Newgate Prison (Dickens-era site), London

If you ever found yourself strolling down Old Bailey and thought, “Huh, something grim probably happened here,” you’d be right. The corner of Old Bailey and Newgate Street marks the site of one of London’s most notorious institutions: Newgate Prison. Built in 1188 atop an ancient Roman gate and finally torn down in 1902, this fortress of doom served as the city’s main prison for over 700 years-long enough to outlive kings, empires, and common sense.

You see, Newgate wasn’t just a prison-it was the place to be executed before a crowd. Thousands would gather, snacks in hand, like it was the Glastonbury music festival (but with more gallows and less guitar) to watch justice served with a hangman’s noose.

Charles Dickens, ever the fan of dark corners and grim realities, was both horrified and fascinated by the place. He lobbied hard to move executions inside prison walls, where the spectacle wouldn’t feel like macabre entertainment. In 1868, his wish finally came true. Small win for dignity, proving once again that if Dickens wanted something changed, it got changed... eventually.

Dickens knew Newgate all too well. He visited it multiple times, including on July 6, 1840, when he and his pal William Makepeace Thackeray witnessed the hanging of François Benjamin Courvoisier (a Swiss-born valet who was convicted of murdering his employer Lord William Russell). Yes, two literary titans went to a public execution like it was a little matinee, Victorian-style.

And of course, the prison crept into Dickens' writing like a recurring nightmare. In Sketches by Boz, he penned a chilling guided tour called A Visit to Newgate. In Oliver Twist, poor Fagin spends his final hours pacing a Newgate cell while Oliver gets an unwanted lesson in capital punishment. Barnaby Rudge throws us into Newgate again, post-Gordon Riots, and in Great Expectations, Wemmick drags Pip there for a grim little field trip while Pip waits for his not-so-sweet Estella.

Indeed, Newgate was a fortress of misery, but also a literary goldmine. So next time you're wandering past Old Bailey, remember: you’re walking over seven centuries of ghosts, gallows, and Dickensian dread.