TosingleoutdetailsfromthegreatdreamofRomanChurches，wouldbethewildestoccupationintheworld。ButSt。StefanoRotondo，adamp，mildewedvaultofanoldchurchintheoutskirtsofRome，willalwaysstruggleuppermostinmymind，byreasonofthehideouspaintingswithwhichitswallsarecovered。TheserepresentthemartyrdomsofsaintsandearlyChristians；andsuchapanoramaofhorrorandbutcherynomancouldimagineinhissleep，thoughheweretoeatawholepigraw，forsupper。Grey-beardedmenbeingboiled，fried，grilled，crimped，singed，eatenbywildbeasts，worriedbydogs，buriedalive，tornasunderbyhorses，choppedupsmallwithhatchets:womenhavingtheirbreaststornwithironpinchers，theirtonguescutout，theirearsscrewedoff，theirjawsbroken，theirbodiesstretchedupontherack，orskinneduponthestake，orcrackledupandmeltedinthefire:theseareamongthemildestsubjects。Soinsistedon，andlabouredat，besides，thateverysufferergivesyouthesameoccasionforwonderaspooroldDuncanawoke，inLadyMacbeth，whenshemarvelledathishavingsomuchbloodinhim。
ThereisanupperchamberintheMamertineprisons，overwhatissaidtohavebeen-andverypossiblymayhavebeen-thedungeonofSt。Peter。Thischamberisnowfittedupasanoratory，dedicatedtothatsaint；anditlives，asadistinctandseparateplace，inmyrecollection，too。Itisverysmallandlow-roofed；
andthedreadandgloomoftheponderous，obdurateoldprisonareonit，asiftheyhadcomeupinadarkmistthroughthefloor。
Hangingonthewalls，amongtheclusteredvotiveofferings，areobjects，atoncestrangelyinkeeping，andstrangelyatvariance，withtheplace-rustydaggers，knives，pistols，clubs，diversinstrumentsofviolenceandmurder，broughthere，freshfromuse，andhunguptopropitiateoffendedHeaven:asiftheblooduponthemwoulddrainoffinconsecratedair，andhavenovoicetocrywith。Itisallsosilentandsoclose，andtomb-like；andthedungeonsbelowaresoblackandstealthy，andstagnant，andnaked；
thatthislittledarkspotbecomesadreamwithinadream:andinthevisionofgreatchurcheswhichcomerollingpastmelikeasea，itisasmallwavebyitself，thatmeltsintonootherwave，anddoesnotflowonwiththerest。