| Leasehold interests to be purchased in the Old Bailey from the Mason’s Yard to Newgate, and some houses opposite thereto | £6000 |
| N.B.—The old materials will pay for taking down and clearing away the rubbish to the surface of the streets. | |
| The new prison, to answer the present Sessions’ House and to contain distinct wards for the men and women debtors, the men and women felons, transports, and convicts, a chapel, a keeper’s house, tap-houses, sutlery, yards, area, ponds of water, will require 160 square yards of new building, which, on account of the requisite strength per square, will cost £250 per square | £40,000 |
| Salaries and gratuities to the surveyor, the committee clerk, the chamberlain’s clerks, &c. | 2,750 |
| Incidental Expenses | 1,250 |
| £50,000 |
The sum of £50,000 already referred to, and raised under the powers granted by the 7 Geo. III., was not found sufficient to complete the gaol, after the manner of building estimates, which too often mislead all those who are beguiled into expenditure upon bricks and mortar. The foundations cost £19,000. It was necessary to sink them a depth of forty feet, as the site was that of the ditch of the old London Wall, besides which the neighbouring houses had to be shored. Ten years later, when the building was still incomplete, another Act of Parliament became necessary to increase the funds at the disposal of the Corporation. This Act, the 18 Geo. III. cap. 48, authorized the city to raise £40,000 for Newgate buildings upon the credit of the surpluses of a fund known as the Orphans’ Fund. It set forth that the Corporation had “proceeded in the erection of a new, spacious, and commodious gaol, and for that purpose have given up to the public the freehold of a very large and extensive tract of ground;” moreover, that they had already laid out £50,000 on this new gaol, as well as £15,000 on a new Sessions’ House, and £6,250 to buy several houses in the Old Bailey, “in order to make the new gaol more healthy and the avenues thereto more convenient.” The Act then goes on to say, that as the new prison still lacks an infirmary, which if built would “greatly contribute to the health of the prisoners, and thereby be of great public utility,” that the Corporation are in possession of a piece of ground quite handy and suitable for the purpose, and that as a sum of £20,000 would build it, while another £20,000 would complete the gaol, the Corporation are empowered to raise the money in the manner already mentioned, by the issue of bonds at 4½ per cent. interest.
The first stone of the new gaol was laid on the 31st May, 1770, by the Lord Mayor, William Beckford, Esquire, the founder of that family.
Within a year or two of its completion, the new Newgate had to pass through an ordeal which nearly threatened its existence. Its boasted strength as a place of durance was boldly set at naught, and almost for the first and last time in this country this gaol, with others in the metropolis, was sacked and its imprisoned inmates set free. The occasion grew out of the so-called Lord George Gordon Riots in 1780. These well-known disturbances had their origin in the relaxation of the penal laws against the Roman Catholics. Such concessions raised fanatical passion to fever pitch. Ignorance and intolerance went hand in hand, and the malcontents, belonging mainly to the lowest strata of society, found a champion in a weak-minded and misguided cadet of the ducal house of Gordon. Lord George Gordon,[194] who was a member of the House of Commons, showed signs of eccentricity soon after he took his seat, but it was at first more ridiculous than mischievous. Lord George became more dangerously meddlesome when the anti-Catholic agitation began. It was to him that the Protestant association looked for countenance and support, and when Lord North at his instance refused to present a petition from that society to Parliament, Lord George Gordon promised to do so in person, provided it was backed by a multitude not less than 20,000 strong.
This led to the great gathering in St. George’s Fields on the 2nd June, 1780, when thousands organized themselves into three columns, and proceeded to the House of Commons across the three bridges, Westminster, Blackfriars, and London Bridge. Lord George headed the Westminster procession, and all three concentrated at St. Stephens between two and three in the afternoon. There the mob filled every avenue and approach; crowds overflowed the lobbies, and would have pushed into the body of the House. Lord George went ahead with the monster petition, which bore some 120,000 signatures or “marks,” and which the Commons by a negative vote of 192 to 6 refused to receive. After this the rioters, at the instigation of their leader, hastened en masse to destroy the chapels of the foreign ambassadors. This was followed by other outrages. While some of their number attacked and rifled the dwellings of persons especially obnoxious to them, others set fire to public buildings, and ransacked the taverns. The military had been called out early in the day, and had made many arrests. As the prisoners were taken to Newgate, the fury of the populace was attracted to this gaol, and a large force, computed at quite two-thirds of the rioters, proceeded thither, determined to force open its gates. This mob was composed of the lowest scum of the town, roughs brutal and utterly reckless, having a natural loathing for prisons, their keepers, and all the machinery of the law. Many already knew, and but too well, the inside of Newgate, many dreaded to return there, either as lodgers or travellers bound on the fatal road to Tyburn. One wild fierce desire was uppermost with all, one thought possessed their minds to the exclusion of all others—to destroy the hateful prison-house and raze it to the ground.
On arriving at the Old Bailey in front of the stone façade, as grim and solid as that of any fortress, the mob halted and demanded the gaoler, Mr. Akerman, who appeared at a window, some say on the roof, of his house, which forms the centre of the line of buildings facing Newgate street. When he appeared the mob called on him to release their confederates and surrender the place unconditionally. Mr. Akerman distinctly and without hesitation refused, and then, dreading what was coming, he made the best of his way to the sheriffs, “in order to know their pleasure.” As the front of the prison was beset by the densely-packed riotous assemblage, Mr. Akerman probably made use of the side wicket and passage which leads direct from Newgate into the Sessions’ House. The magistrates seemed to have been in doubt how to act; and for some time did nothing. “Their timidity and negligence,” says Boswell, helped the almost incredible exertions of the mob. And he is of opinion, that had proper aid been given to Mr. Akerman, the sacking of Newgate would certainly have been prevented. While the magistrates hesitated the mob were furiously active; excited to frenzy, they tried to beat down the gate with sledge-hammers, and vainly sought to make some impression on the massive walls. A portion of the assailants forced their way into the governor’s house, and laying hands upon his furniture, with all other combustibles, dragged them out and made a great pile in front of the obdurate door, which still resisted force. The heap of wood, having been anointed with rosin and turpentine, was kindled, and soon fanned into a mighty blaze. The door, heavily barred and bolted, and strongly bound with iron, did not ignite quite readily, but presently it took fire and burnt steadily, though slowly. Meanwhile the rioters fed the flames with fresh fuel, and snatching burning brands from the fire, cast them on to the roof and over the external wall into the wards and yards within. The prisoners inside, who had heard without fully understanding the din, and saw the flames without knowing whether they promised deliverance or foreboded a dreadful death, suffered the keenest mental torture, and added their agonized shouts to the general uproar.
Charles Dickens has drawn an awful picture of the scene, based upon contemporary and authentic accounts. He has described in glowing language the yielding of the door.
“A shout! Another! another yet, though few knew why, or what it meant. But those around the gate had seen it slowly yield and drop from its topmost hinge. It hung on that side by but one, but it was upright still because of the bar, and of its having sunk of its own weight into the heap of ashes at its foot. There was now a gap at the top of the doorway, through which could be descried a gloomy passage, cavernous and dark. Pile up the fire!
“It burnt fiercely. The door was red hot and the gap wider. They vainly tried to shield their faces with their hands, and standing as if in readiness for a spring, watched the place. Dark figures, some crawling on their hands and knees, some carried in the arms of others, were seen to pass along the roof. It was plain the gaol could hold out no longer. The keeper and his officers and their wives and children were escaping. Pile up the fire!