The travellers admitted that it did seem as if they had been there a good many hours; and as they came up stairs, saw the sun rising, and saw the movements of the people indicating that it was morning, they perceived how they had been treated. Without heeding the request of the guide to be paid for his trouble, they kicked him from the door of the Ducal Palace half away across the piazzetta, and left him to go home without any fee for his day’s services, and with the impression of an English and an American boot painfully evident on his person.
DUNGEON ON THE BANKS OF THE NEVA.
On the banks of the Neva, in St. Petersburg, there are some famous dungeons in which prisoners of state have been confined. Peter the Great ordered one of his sons imprisoned there, and treated him with great severity. Peter was a hard-hearted monarch, and with his love for Russia, he was as ready to visit punishment upon the members of his own family as upon any one else. The Empress Catherine is also said to have shut up some of her relatives in these prisons; but her cruelty never quite came up to that of Peter, who is said to have caused his son to be put to torture in his own presence, and to have stood calmly by and witnessed his dying agonies. But then she was a woman, and a good deal must be allowed to her in the way of womanly feelings.
A pleasant feature of these dungeons at St. Petersburg is that they are located under the level of the river. St. Petersburg was built originally on a marsh. There is not a hill in the whole city, and the level of the street is only a few feet above the banks of the Neva at high-water mark. Once or twice in a century, the city is inundated, and in such cases the prisoners in these underground cells are quietly drowned; at any rate, such has been their fate on two or three occasions. It is true they might have been saved, had the officers in charge of the prison been willing to open the doors, and allow them to leave their cells; but no one thought of an inundation, and as the prison-keepers had strict orders to keep the prisoners in their cells, unless otherwise commanded by their superiors, and as the superiors were away at the time of the flood, the poor victims were drowned like rats in cages.
There is a thrilling story about one of these dungeons, or rather about one of the prisoners confined there.
A Russian adventuress, said to be a princess, of great beauty and accomplishments, about the year 1822, was in the south of Europe, and claimed a relationship to the emperor’s family. Some persons at this day insist that her claim was well founded, while others say that it was purely fictitious. At any rate she made a great stir, and created so much trouble to the emperor and the Russian government, that an attempt was made to bring her back to the empire, where she could be properly dealt with.
A PRINCESS DECOYED.
Various traps were set, and various plans were laid, but none of them were successful, until one day—I think it was at Genoa or Leghorn—she was invited to visit some ships lying at anchor in the harbor. A party had been made up, and every one, including the princess, whose name I do not now recall, had partaken liberally of champagne.
A Russian officer in civilian dress was of the party, and adroitly managed to induce her to go on board a Russian ship of war then in the harbor. The instant she touched the deck the anchor was lifted, and she was invited below. The rest of the party were put ashore, and the ship sailed for Cronstadt.
She was kept in close confinement during the voyage, and on her arrival at St. Petersburg was consigned to one of the dungeons. There she was kept a close prisoner in the hands of the government to which she owed allegiance, and which she had deeply offended. While she was still in this dungeon there came the great inundation of 1824. The prison where she was kept was flooded, and the unhappy princess was drowned.