The Horror of Newgate Prison

There are places in London where the past seems to cling to the stones, whispering reminders of the city’s more brutal chapters. Newgate is one of those places. Even today, as the traffic rolls past the Central Criminal Court on Old Bailey, it takes little effort to imagine the weight of history beneath the pavement. For centuries, Newgate was a name spoken with dread. It meant trial, despair, and for many, death. Yet woven through its grim reputation are stories of folklore, survival, rebellion, and a haunting said to have stalked the prisoners through the darkest nights.

The Birth of a Prison That Became a Legend

Newgate began in 1188 during the reign of Henry II as a small cluster of holding cells built above the “New Gate” in the old London City Walls. The idea was straightforward: a place to keep prisoners while they waited for trial before the Royal Judges. The reality, however, swiftly descended into something far more frightening. Over time the jail grew into a sprawling, disease ridden complex where the poorest languished in filth and the wealthiest bribed their way into slightly less miserable quarters.

Newgate at the turn of the century.

Its location did little to improve the mood. The building stood near Smithfield, a place of livestock markets, public burnings, and hangings. Smoke, blood, shouting crowds and the constant smell of slaughter must have made Newgate feel like a purgatory between the world of the living and the world of the condemned.

Robbers, pickpockets, debtors, and those guilty of even the mildest wrongdoing could find themselves inside. Famous prisoners added a kind of dark glamour. Ben Jonson spent time in Newgate, as did the adventurer and writer Casanova. Yet nothing softened the place. Newgate remained a symbol of despair throughout the medieval and early modern periods.

Drawing of the Black Dog of Newgate, 1638

A Famine, a Scholar, and a Cannibal Curse

During the reign of Henry III, England was struck by a severe famine. Food shortages hit the poorest first and hardest, and nowhere were conditions more desperate than behind the walls of Newgate. Rumours circulated of inmates driven to extremes. One popular tale tells of a scholar imprisoned for witchcraft who was thrown into the jail among starving men. Desperation led the inmates to overpower and kill him, and then, horrifyingly, to eat him.

Had the story ended there, it would be grim enough, but legend rarely settles for simplicity. According to 13th century lore, the scholar’s death unleashed something unnatural. A monstrous coal black dog, said to be a demonic manifestation of the scholar himself, appeared inside the prison. It stalked the corridors, slipped through locked doors, and picked off the cannibalistic inmates one by one.

Terrified, a few prisoners managed to flee, yet the dog followed them into the streets of London. The story claims that none escaped its vengeance. Though impossible to verify, tales of the Black Dog of Newgate circulated for centuries, retold in alehouses and printed in chapbooks. A 1638 illustration even shows the spectral animal looming over panicked prisoners. Whether supernatural warning or commentary on the savagery of prison life, the story reflects something very real about Newgate’s reputation. It was a place where hope was thin, suffering abundant, and fear a daily companion.

Crime, Poverty and a City on the Edge

For many Londoners surviving on the margins, petty crime was less a moral failing and more a consequence of poverty. Stealing bread, failing to repay debts, or taking a chance on picking a pocket might mean the difference between starving and staying alive. The line between survival and criminality was easily crossed.

Perhaps this is why figures like the celebrated thief Jack Sheppard captured the public imagination. Born into poverty, trained as a carpenter, and tempted by the relative glamour of criminal life, Sheppard became a folk hero. His escapes from custody were astonishing feats of ingenuity and courage and offered the public the thrill of seeing an underdog outwit those in power.

Jack Sheppard: Newgate’s Most Notorious Escape Artist

Sheppard escaped from prison four times, twice from Newgate itself, and each time his legend grew.

His first escape from Newgate reads almost like a comic adventure. By loosening an iron bar in the window, he squeezed through the gap, lowered himself with a knotted sheet and fled the prison disguised in women’s clothing. Londoners loved it.

A cell and the galleries at Newgate in 1896

His second escape was even more daring. Locked in a cell considered escape proof, Sheppard scaled the chimney into the room above, broke through six locked doors, and reached the prison chapel. From there he found a route to the roof. Using only a blanket to help him cross to a neighbouring building, he slipped into a private residence, crept down the stairs, and walked calmly out the back door. The neighbours slept on, unaware that an infamous outlaw had just passed through their hallway.

Jack Sheppard in Newgate Prison

Daniel Defoe, who had spent time in Newgate himself, was so impressed by Sheppard’s feats that he wrote an account celebrating his resourcefulness.

Yet Sheppard’s luck eventually ran out. In 1724 he was caught once more and this time did not escape his fate. On 16/11/1724 he was taken to Tyburn where crowds gathered to see the end of a folk hero. His body danced on the rope, but the story of his daring courage lived on.

The Bloody Code and Newgate as a Theatre of Death

As the eighteenth century progressed, the British legal system hardened. The so called Bloody Code listed more than two hundred offences punishable by death. Stealing a sheep or cutting down a tree in an aristocrat’s garden could result in hanging. Transportation to the colonies became a common alternative, but many still climbed the scaffold.

When public executions were moved to Newgate, the prison became a grim theatre. A large wooden platform was erected outside what is now Old Bailey. Crowds filled the surrounding streets. Some accounts estimate thousands packed into the area on execution mornings.

Those with money secured the best views. The Magpie and Stump pub, directly opposite the prison, offered upstairs rooms where patrons could enjoy breakfast while watching the condemned walk the final steps along Dead Man’s Walk. As prisoners received a final measure of rum, spectators raised glasses of brandy or claret. This macabre fusion of entertainment and punishment remained part of London’s social calendar well into the nineteenth century.

Public hanging outside Newgate, early 1800s

From Public Spectacle to Private Ritual

By the 1860s attitudes had begun to shift. Public executions were considered unseemly, even barbaric, and London saw its final outdoor hanging at Newgate in 1868. After that all executions took place inside the prison walls, invisible to the crowds that once gasped and cheered.

The Magpie and Stump still stands today. Though the spectacle has long ended, the upstairs rooms still attract curious visitors. Instead of spectators awaiting the fall of a rope, the pub now hosts detectives, lawyers and journalists awaiting verdicts from the courtrooms across the street. The roar of the old crowds has simply been replaced by the chatter of television crews.

Newgate’s End and What Remains

In 1904 Newgate Prison was demolished. Seven centuries of misery vanished in clouds of brick dust. Yet London rarely erases its past entirely. Walk along Newgate Street today and you will see the stones of the old prison embedded into the walls of the Central Criminal Court. They sit quietly, holding stories no renovation could ever fully silence.

Across the road stands the church of St Sepulchre, long associated with the rituals of death carried out at Newgate. Inside, displayed in a glass case, is the Newgate execution bell. It was rung in the small hours before a hanging, echoing through the prison as a bleak reminder that someone’s final sunrise was approaching. As one contemporary wrote, it was “a warning that ended for all in a permanent sleep.”

Even without the cells and chains, the spirit of Newgate lingers. Its stories of famine, haunting, courage, injustice, and desperate survival continue to fascinate. London is often celebrated for its grand architecture and sweeping history, yet it is places like Newgate that reveal the city’s darker undercurrents. The stones may be gone, but the memories they held remain stubbornly alive.

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Sources:

1. “The History of Newgate Prison” – by Raymond Wright ISBN: 9780711020909A detailed historical account covering Newgate from medieval beginnings to its demolition.

2. “The London Hanged: Crime and Civil Society in the Eighteenth Century” – by Peter LinebaughISBN: 9781859846384Provides social context for Newgate, public executions, and the Bloody Code.

3. “Jack Sheppard: A Tale of London” – by William Ainsworth (originally 1839) ISBN: 9780140439048A fictionalised but extensively researched narrative reflecting contemporary views of Sheppard’s life.

4. “The History of the Remarkable Life of John Sheppard” – by Daniel Defoe ISBN: 9781534975691Originally published anonymously in 1724. Often attributed to Defoe and one of the earliest biographies of Sheppard.

5. “Crime and Society in England 1750 to 1900” – by Clive Emsley ISBN: 9780582473513Covers the penal system, the Bloody Code, and the shift away from public execution.

6. “Tyburn: London’s Fatal Tree” – by Alan Brooke and David Brandon ISBN: 9780750946226A deep exploration of London’s execution culture, including Newgate’s role.

7. “London: The Biography” – by Peter Ackroyd ISBN: 9780099422587Includes rich narrative material on Newgate, Smithfield, and medieval London life.

8. “Legends of the Black Dog” – by Eleanor Parker (chapter in broader folklore studies) ISBN: 9780859895335 Provides context for spectral black dog tales, including the Newgate variation.

9. “Public Punishment and the Urban Crowd in Eighteenth Century London” – Journal of British StudiesAuthor: V. A. C. GatrellJSTOR stable reference number available in most university libraries.Analysis of execution rituals, crowd behaviour, and Newgate’s theatre of death.

10. “Jack Sheppard and the Art of Escape” – The Historical Journal Author: Lincoln FallerExplores Sheppard’s real escapes, public reception, and cultural impact.

11. “Folklore of Urban Fear: The Black Dog of Newgate” – Folklore Journal Author: Owen DaviesAcademic evaluation of black dog legends and their association with prisons.

12. Museum of London Collection – Newgate Prison Artifacts Catalogue Reference: M.1927.2Includes stones, keys, and restraints recovered from the prison site.

13. St Sepulchre’s Church – Newgate Execution Bell Catalogue Reference: Parish Record SPSEP/CH/45Documented in the parish archives relating to its use before executions.

14. The National Archives – Criminal Court Records and Newgate Calendars Record Group: HO 26 and HO 27Contains registers of prisoners awaiting execution or transportation.

15. British Museum – “The Black Dog of Newgate” 1638 Woodcut Catalogue Reference: BM 1868,0328.1230A surviving early print depicting the legendary spectral dog.

16. London Metropolitan Archives – Plans and Demolition Papers for Newgate Prison Collection Code: CLA/047/EMIncludes architectural drawings and documentation from the 1904 demolition.

17. Old Bailey Court Records – Newgate Associated TrialsReference: The Old Bailey Proceedings, 1674 to 1913, microfilm collectionHeld in the London Metropolitan Archives reading room.

18. Guildhall Library – Newgate Prison Calendars and Execution BroadsidesCatalogue Reference: BROADSIDES PRISON 01