Sara Wifeman- Life in 18th Century London

London in the 18th Century

I can not believe that I have been arrested and put in this hell hole, excuse my language, with these people. I am in a great deal of pain, but they will not get me any medical care. I am emotionally void, and they do not care about that either. They just put me in this holding room in Newgate Prison. My Mother and Father are trying to get me out. But, everything in my life lately has been horrible, resulting in miserable pain.  I deceived everyone, and I feel so guilty. I am bleeding profusely and may pass out. That should get me to an infirmary, at least. I had this whole process all planned out, and then it took a different path.

My husband-to-be turned out to be a real “bad boy”. He is participating in the home break-ins and riots that are raging through the country. My parents did not want me to marry him, and now I understand why. There were rumors that he had found a girlfriend who shared his views. She was participating in the protests with him. I do not understand how he could do that when we had plans to get married in a year. During that time, he was still coming to my home regularly. He would sell the stuff he stole and bring me some of the money he got for it.  Father would get really angry. He and Gary would get in a yelling match and then Gary was gone again. We barely had one night together each visit. He would sneak in through a basement window and then come up to my room. We would feast on the desserts and drinks that I had brought up to my room. Later, we would enjoy our time together until someone banged on my door to get me up. Then he would slip away like a thief in the night.

I was very shocked when I realized I was pregnant. I was so afraid of what Father might do. I did everything I could to keep the truth from everyone, but Mother knew. I continued lying to her for a month or so after she questioned me, then finally gave in. We talked about it and she promised she would help me hide it from Father. He is so involved in his Oil and Hops business that it was easy to do. We just did not know what we were going to do when the baby came. At that time, we thought we had about 2 months before the baby arrived.

This week, it all fell apart. The baby had been kicking me viciously, but on Monday, it seemed to settle down. Mother said that was normal. The baby was getting into position for delivery, and I should be prepared for my water to break. That was when she would run next door to get the retired doctor who had agreed to help us. I stayed around home Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. The baby still was not kicking; Mother led me to believe that was normal. I heard that my fiancee was in town, so Wednesday night I went to tell him that he was having a baby. I had walked about 3 blocks when I started having stabbing pains in my stomach and pelvic area. I did not want to be out in the middle of the street, so I went into one of the back alleys. It was so nasty I could not imagine delivering my baby there. I thought this would pass then I could turn around and go back home. I might just go directly to the doctors’ house. 

I slipped off my coat and placed it on the ground so I could lie down for a few minutes. The pain was getting worse. I was afraid because I did not know what was going on. I wished Mother was here with me. I needed her knowledge and her comfort. I thought I was tough, and I could get through delivering a baby with no problems, but I might be wrong. I think the baby is coming now. I get my handkerchief out of my coat pocket and stuff it in my mouth. I move my coat down under me. My head and shoulders were on trash. Crumpled newspapers, empty milk cartons, cigarette packs, liquor bottles, even soup cans lay beneath me. The smells were even worse than what I was lying on. Spoiled milk, cigarette ashes, rotten food, spilled booze, and urine. I could hear rats scurrying through the alley. I hope that the alleys of London are the worse alleys anywhere. This is horrible and certainly not where I wanted to bring my new baby into this world. And I didn’t plan to be alone either. That’s the problem with plans, sometimes they go awry.

The pain is unbearable, Mother did not tell me it would be this bad. I feel like I am blacking out when a huge pain goes through me. It hurts in my stomach, my pelvis, my back, and even my legs. It feels like a lightning bolt hits and then spreads out into my body. Then I have numbness for a minute in all of those places until the next jolt comes. I hope this passes and I can get home to Mother. I don’t care what Father says, yells, growls. I just want to be home. Bite down on the handkerchief, here comes another contraction. I think that’s what Mother called them. It all went dark again. I am so afraid. Tears are streaming down my face and sweat is pouring all over my body. I don’t think I have ever been so afraid and in so much pain ever in my entire life.

This time when I came to, I knew that everything was different. I was still in a lot of pain in my pelvis. But my stomach wasn’t cramping nor did my back feel like there were knives jamming into it. But I was very wet on my legs and bottom and my coat. The first thing I thought of was that Mother will be so angry that I messed up my good coat. I sat up, and there I saw her. It was a very little, beautiful baby. A very little baby that wasn’t breathing. I grabbed her up and tried to blow air in her mouth. She was not responding, and I was petrified. I scooped her up in the coat and ran as fast as I could home. That was not easy with the umbilical cord still attached to both of us.

I burst into our home screaming, “Mother, Mother, the baby is here! Help me, she is not breathing!” She came running down the steps, tripped,  and almost fell down herself. She scooped the baby from me and I screamed, “Mother, we are still connected!” We ran into the kitchen where I lay on the floor and she was trying to help the baby. She warmed a dishtowel in the sink and placed it on the baby’s belly. She kept trying to hold her mouth open and blow into it but nothing worked. “I am going to get Doctor Everett next door, I will be right back”, Mother said as she shoved the baby back to me and ran out the door.

Mother and Doctor Everette came running right back in. Doctor Everette said he would try a technique that a London physician, Marshall Hall, was working with. He lay the baby on her side, raised her arm above her head, then pulls the arm across her chest. He did that several times. The baby was not responding at all. Doctor Everette said that she was not going to breathe. He said he did not think she was born alive. I told him about the 3 days with no movement, and he said he was certain she was stillborn. He was cutting our umbilical cords then. “I don’t know what that means.”, I said. He peeked up over my body and looked at me like I was daft. “It means that the baby was dead before she was born. Stillborn. Exactly like it sounds. There’s nothing else that I can do here. I am going home. “, he said. He seemed angry and I didn’t understand why. Mother thanked him again and again. I was sitting on the floor holding my dead baby. She looked like a doll. She was very small and pale. Her eyes were a beautiful blue, which made it hard to accept that she was dead. Mother and I cleaned up the mess, she just threw my coat away and said she can get me another one. She was talking the entire time, just prattling. She was just talking about several different topics at once and jumping back and forth. She said, “We have to get this mess cleaned up and supper ready before Father gets home. It might be best that the baby did not live, now we don’t have to explain her to Father. What are we going to do with the body? Do not discuss this with anyone. The only people that know about the baby are you and I and Doctor Everette. We must keep it a secret.” “Mother, Stop, Please!! I am going to bed. Please tell Father that I am ill.”, I said. I picked up the baby from the table and went upstairs. I bathed her, found a dress that fit her, and we lay on the bed.

I was jolted awake by Mother screaming. “ No, you can not take her, no” I did not understand what was going on. It had been such a horrible day that I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. When the Police Constable burst into my room, I was so confused. One of the bobbies picked up my baby and wrapped her in a blanket. I started to scream. The Constable took my arm and started leading me to the wagon. Just as we reached the front door, Father arrived home. “What in the world are you doing with my Sara?”, he asked the Constable. ”Your daughter is being charged as an unmarried woman concealing a stillborn. It is a felony punishable by death.”, the Constable responded. The confusion, shock, and betrayal on Fathers’ face broke my heart. “I didn’t know she was pregnant. Are you sure you have the right person?”, Father inquired. “Absolutely!! Your next-door neighbor, Dr. Everett, called me.”, the Constable replied. At least now Mother and I knew how the coppers knew to come to get me. That two-faced doctor acted like he was helping us. “I am so sorry Father, please forgive me.” I cried. The Constable drug me to the wagon and loaded me up. He seemed very happy to be pushing a little girl around.

When we reached Old Bailey, the central criminal court of London, I was very shocked to find there was a judge there. It was after 8:00 PM, and normally no one would still be at the courthouse that late. There was also a man that was assigned to be my lawyer. As soon as Father and Mother arrived, Father sent him away and told the judge there would be a real attorney there tomorrow to defend me. The judge told him that it didn’t matter who defended me, I was going to be hanged for purposely killing my baby. He said that is why it is a death penalty offense. “Young, promiscuous, unmarried girls sleep around with every man they meet, get pregnant, and then kill the babies so their families will not be scorned. These girls do not deserve to live!”, the judge bellowed as he rose from behind the big desk. “Bring her back tomorrow with her attorney, no bail granted.” He exploded. And slammed the gavel on the desk before stomping out of the room. The Constable and his bobbies grabbed me again and took me to some horrible place. They threw me into this tiny room with 2 cots, a post for a bathroom, and another girl in there. I was locked inside a cage. They slammed the doors behind them but I could still hear Mother screaming. “It was not like that, she did not want the baby to die. Sara went into labor in a filthy alley all alone and then ran home to get help. Doctor Everett that called you even said the baby was born dead. We were trying to deal with it when you stormed in our door. Sara was sleeping with her baby in her arms. Does that sound like a mother that wanted her child to die?”, she cried. “It doesn’t matter ma’am. I’m sure she will stay in jail until her day in court.”, the Constable calmly replied, “and then she will get the noose.” His evil smile made Mother start to wail again. He told my parents they had to leave. I never even got to hug them.

So that is where our story started. I needed medical attention and mental help to deal with the trauma I had just undergone. Instead of either of those, I got clanging doors, screaming women, and hateful guards. They told all of the other women prisoners that I had killed my baby on purpose. They all hated me, my parents must hate me, and I hate me. I didn’t care if Gary never came back. But I didn’t mean for baby Grace to die. I wanted her. I always wanted her. I would have someone to love that loved me. Now she is dead and everyone hates me. I sobbed all night long, replaying what had happened in my head over and over again. Was there anything I could have done differently? Why did it have to happen this way? I had a plan, a good plan except for how we were going to convince Father that we found Grace and were going to raise her as our own. He is a very wise man, I honestly do not think we would have been able to fool him. Mother and I thought maybe he would be too busy and not really even care. He had not been paying much attention to either of us for some time now.

The next morning I was again taken to Old Bailey to meet with Father’s attorney and present our case, as he put it, to the judge. Mr. Robinson, my new attorney, said that he thought we might be able to use a  Non-Compose Mentis defense if we got lucky. The judge did not accept the mental disorder defense at the time, but he said Mr. Robinson can try that in front of the jury. I would still have to stay in custody until my trial, but at least I would get a trial. A woman named Mabel Hughes had just been executed for murdering 11-year-old Alexander Knipe. He was a youngster in the workhouse that she supervised. The children enjoyed torturing her, and she sought revenge by beating them. With Alexander, it went too far. She was found guilty of murder and had been executed just last week. This made me very afraid because she was the first execution in the Mayoralty of the Right Honorable Slingsby Bethell, esquire; Lord-Mayor of the City of London. I considered suicide many, many times. But I wanted to clear my name first. I did not want my parents to have to live with the grief of losing Grace and me, plus deal with the embarrassment of having a child that has been accused of murdering her infant.

Fortunately, it did not take very long for my trial to start. Mr. Robinson did an excellent job presenting my case. When I testified, he let the jury see how horrible the entire experience had been for me and how badly I was suffering. The jury saw the pain I was in and understood that I had not planned for Grace to die. I wanted that baby so much. I never got to tell her goodbye. When they took me to jail, they sent her to the medical surgeon’s office to be examined so they could determine if she was alive when she was born. They couldn’t tell for sure, but the doctor did not think that she had any oxygen in her lungs. Even though he was the person that had called the Constable initially; Doctor Everett did testify that he believed Grace was dead before she was delivered. When I recounted the last week before delivery, and the night that I did deliver, the jury knew that I had not planned that outcome. I never got to tell her that I loved her. My parents did not even get to tell her goodbye or pick out her casket or plan her funeral. None of us were ever able to get any closure on our grief. They just stole her away. 

The jury decided that I was innocent of premeditated murder and let me out of jail. This was the first time an unmarried woman with a stillborn had not been hanged for murder. The prosecution did not charge me with any of the lesser offenses, so it was all over. Father, Mother, and I went back to our regular lives. I met another man, fell in love, got married, and had 2 babies. Everything went fine, and we have a beautiful son named William and a daughter named Charity. I will never forget my first daughter Grace or the struggles that I had to go through to clear my name. I had to prove that I loved that baby and never wanted her to die. My heart breaks each time one of my children overcomes an obstacle because I wish I could have done that with Grace first.