A trip to the Newgate

Charles Dickens starts off by recognizing the Newgate Prison as a place that no one dares to glance at, even if they are passing by. As he states, ‘the prison was built like a maze forming a square around the Old Bailey.” (E-text) The women’s portion of the jail was first.  To me he described the cells just like the ones you’ll see on television, a five foot and ten inch room with bars as the door so the inmates can communicate. The way Dickens made it seem, if anything beautiful stayed at Newgate, it would surely transform into something dark and ugly. The women there would scatter like roaches whenever visitors would begin approaching. He began to elaborate on a meeting between a daughter and her imprisoned mother. Dickens noticed the young girl was hurt and was paying her mother the least bit of attention. He felt as if she shouldn’t be that way, and that there were enough of those types of women already there in the prison. Girls with that type of rude attitude and disrespect exist still here in the present. I agree with Dickens, “Heaven knows there is enough of them in prison,” (E-text) no need to spoil the bunch outside those walls.

They moved on passing through the yard to the school. The school was for fourteen year old boys and under. It was tolerable sized room and filled with scattered papers on the floor, writing materials, and copied books. “The little boys were convicted of mainly pick-pocketing, and not one face had even an ounce of honest.”(E-text) They look as if they were happy to be in prison as if they did something good. I can imagine these faces because I’ve known people like this, both male and female. Little kids who’ve committed crimes smiling as if they just rescued an old lady’s dog from a burning building. It’s shameful to see these kids doing what they’re doing but I can only tell them that they are in wrong since I am not around to stop them.

I’ve never been to jail I can proudly say, but I remember being on punishment before for breaking my mother’s vase. Being trapped one afternoon in the house at young age is pure hell. I could see all my friends outside playing football. It broke my heart not being able to go and join in on the fun and games. I felt as if my parents committed a crime for keeping me in the house all afternoon. I still remember myself looking out the window as the sun went down and I began to cry because I felt I would never get another day like that to play. When my parents came in to tell me I can come out my room I was silent as if I just did some hard time.