In the days of the ancient Romans, every emperor of good and respectable standing kept a private dungeon for his own use; and he had a good many public ones lying round loose for his friends to occupy. Some emperors kept their dungeons well stocked at all times, with an assorted lot of humanity. They were not particular as to age or sex, as long as they could have their dungeons liberally patronized. Nero did a fine business in the dungeon line, and successfully rivalled many of his competitors. He displayed great ingenuity in starving his prisoners, and occasionally in putting them to death; and so did others of the Roman rulers. Nero was a festive old fraud, and did not mind putting his friends to a good deal of trouble in order to amuse himself. I have elsewhere alluded to his fine array of gridirons, toasting-forks, racks, and thumb-screws with which he used to get up exhibitions of a very select character.
IN THE PRISON OF ST. PAUL.
Many of the old dungeons are now closed, partly for want of business, and partly for the reason that their present proprietors have a delicate regard for the reputation of their ancestors, and do not wish any prominence given to these old prisons. Other dungeons are kept open to visitors, but nobody is confined in them. One of the most celebrated dungeons of Rome, for instance, is that in which St. Paul was involuntarily lodged during a part of his stay in Rome. There are two dungeons, one below the other: the upper one is not altogether uncomfortable, though its space is rather restricted, and does not afford much room for exercise.
When I visited this place the guide pointed out several of its peculiar features: one of them is an impression of a human face in the solid rock, at the side of the staircase; and he related, with great solemnity, that while St. Paul was being led down the stairs his keeper pushed him, and pressed his face against the stone. An ordinary face, he explained, would have been injured by the operation, but a miracle was performed, in the instantaneous softening of the rock, so as to receive the visage of the apostle without injury. The impression thus made remains to this day.
Another curious feature is the spring of water from which St. Paul baptized one of his jailers. It is related that one of the jailers became converted, and desired Paul to baptize him. No water was at hand for the purpose; but a miracle was performed, by the opening of the rock in the floor of the dungeon and the appearance of a spring of water. This spring remains at this day, and contains water apparently fresh and sweet. The keeper of the place dipped a quantity of the water from the spring, and offered it to our party for drinking.
We were about to drink, when the guide who accompanied us shook his head, and intimated that the liquid was not good. We did not taste it; and therefore I cannot speak positively as to its character. A picture has been painted, and is preserved in the room above, showing the miraculous opening of the floor, the water rising like a fountain from the rock, and the apostle engaged in the act of baptizing the jailer, who is kneeling before him.
In the middle ages every owner of a feudal castle had a dungeon about his premises, though it was not always under ground. Sometimes it was hewn out of the solid rock which formed the foundation of the edifice, and sometimes it was in a high tower placed at one corner, where the occupant could look out and enjoy the scenery, though he was debarred from any practical knowledge of it other than what he could obtain through his eyes. Many a person has lived and suffered for years, shut up in a high tower where he could look out on the world around him with the consciousness that he was never more to enjoy his liberty.
“SOTTO PIOMBI.”
The Ducal Palace of Venice was well provided in the dungeon line. There were prisons under the roof of the palace which were known amongst the Italians as the “Sotto Piombi,” or “Under the Leads.” They were so named from their position, directly under the roof. They were hot as ovens in summer, and as cold as refrigerators in winter, and they were connected with the room where the famous Council of Ten used to sit. From these prisons persons accused of crimes against the republic were taken before the Council, whose members sat with their faces covered with masks, and their bodies wrapped in cloaks and mantles, so that it was utterly impossible to identify them. To be dragged before the Council was equivalent to a sentence of death; and generally the trial of an offender would be very brief.