Dark underground cells, rusting chains and prisoners abandoned beneath a castle have become familiar images of the Middle Ages. But how much of the medieval dungeon is genuine history, and how much was created by later writers, tourists and popular entertainment?
The Dungeon of Popular Imagination
A scene from an 1829 edition of Ivanhoe by Eugène Delacroix – Wikimedia Commons
When most people imagine a dungeon inside a medieval castle, they picture an underground chamber: cold, damp and almost completely dark. Prisoners are chained to stone walls while their guards prepare instruments of torture nearby. It is one of the most familiar images of the Middle Ages, appearing repeatedly in novels, films, television programmes and video games. One influential description presents precisely this kind of dungeon:
the floor of which was deep beneath the level of the ground, and very damp, being lower than even the moat itself. The only light was received through one or two loop-holes far above the reach of the captive’s hand. These apertures admitted, even at mid-day, only a dim and uncertain light, which was changed for utter darkness long before the rest of the castle had lost the blessing of day. Chains and shackles, which had been the portion of former captives, from whom active exertions to escape had been apprehended, hung rusted and empty on the walls of the prison, and in the rings of one of those sets of fetters there remained two mouldering bones, which seemed to have been once those of the human leg, as if some prisoner had been left not only to perish there, but to be consumed to a skeleton.
This description sounds like an account of medieval imprisonment, but it comes from Walter Scott’s novel Ivanhoe, first published in 1819. The enormous popularity of Scott’s work helped shape how later generations imagined the Middle Ages. Other novels, films and games reinforced the same picture until the underground dungeon became an almost essential feature of the medieval castle.
Medieval castles certainly held prisoners. What is much harder to find is evidence for the purpose-built subterranean chambers filled with chains and torture equipment that popular culture has taught us to expect. Many rooms now identified as dungeons were originally used for entirely different purposes.
Was “Little Ease” Really a Dungeon?
Illustration from “Memorials of the Tower of London” by Lieut. -Gen. Lord De Ros, 1866.
The Tower of London provides a revealing example. Numerous books, websites and videos refer to “Little Ease,” supposedly a cramped prison cell beneath the White Tower in which captives could neither stand upright nor lie down comfortably.
Photographs show what appears to be a doorway leading into a very small room, almost resembling a closet. According to the traditional story, the name “Little Ease” reflected the suffering of prisoners confined inside it. The Royal Collection Trust, a charity connected with several important historic sites, although not responsible for the Tower of London, offers this description:
The infamous torture cell was so-called due to its tiny size: it measured a mere 1.2m square. Its cramped size prevented prisoners from settling in any bearable position: they were unable to stand, sit or lie down. Furthermore, the windowless cell was in constant blackness. The inhabitant was forced to crouch in solitary confinement for days or even a week, before being released for interrogation and torture. It is likely that such torture cells were ubiquitous in Europe’s prisons at this time.
The architecture of the room tells a less dramatic story. Examination of the space indicates that its back wall was once another doorway. Rather than being designed as a prison cell, it originally served as a short passage between two rooms. At an unknown date, one entrance was blocked, leaving behind the confined space visible today. “Little Ease” may therefore be an architectural remnant created by one of the many alterations made to the White Tower over the centuries.
A photo of Little Ease in the Tower of London from 1890 – Wikimedia Commons
The best-known story associated with the room concerns Edmund Campion, a Jesuit priest executed in 1581. Accounts of his life often claim that he spent four days in Little Ease. The ultimate source, however, appears to be a history of the Jesuits written by Daniello Bartoli in 1667, nearly a century after Campion’s imprisonment.
Bartoli states that Campion spent four days in the Tower of London in a place called “Liteleas,” which he describes as “closed and dark, that there was no air or light to enter it, and so narrow and low, which could not hold itself upright, nor to lie there other than huddled.”
There are reasons to treat this account cautiously. Bartoli was writing in Italy decades after the event, and his purpose was to celebrate the suffering of Jesuit martyrs. His description also does not identify the location of “Liteleas” within the White Tower. Even if Campion was confined in a place bearing that name, it does not necessarily follow that it was the small room now shown as Little Ease.
The White Tower’s use during this period raises further questions. By the fourteenth century, it was occasionally used as a residence but served mainly as a repository for royal records. By the middle of the sixteenth century, it had become the country’s principal gunpowder store and was even attracting visitors. This makes it an unlikely location for the regular confinement of prisoners.
Little Ease may have received its name during the seventeenth century, when visitors encountered the blocked passage and speculated about its original purpose. A strange, unexplained space gradually became an imaginary dungeon. As the story was repeated, it became attached not only to Campion but also to the medieval history of the White Tower.
Similar traditions developed at castles across Europe. Storerooms, cellars, ice chambers, latrines and other unfamiliar spaces were identified as dungeons because later visitors could no longer understand their original functions. The dungeon story was invariably more memorable than the architectural reality.
Where Medieval Prisoners Were Actually Held
The White Tower of The Tower of London. Photo by Medievalists.net
Rejecting the familiar dungeon does not mean that medieval castles never contained prisoners. Captured enemies, political opponents and valuable hostages were frequently held inside them. The important difference is that these captives were not necessarily placed in underground cells.
In many cases, prisoners were confined in towers or ordinary rooms. Their treatment depended heavily on their wealth, social status and political importance. Noble captives could expect accommodation appropriate to their rank, particularly if they were likely to be exchanged or ransomed. Some retained servants, received suitable food and enjoyed considerable freedom within the castle, although they remained under guard.
The fate of Gruffydd ap Llywelyn illustrates where an important medieval captive might be held. Gruffydd, a Welsh prince and political hostage, was imprisoned high inside the Tower of London rather than beneath it. In 1244, he attempted to escape by lowering himself from the tower with a makeshift rope. The rope failed, and he fell 90 feet to his death.
Castles were primarily fortified residences, military strongholds and administrative centres. They could also hold prisoners, but this did not mean that every castle contained a permanent prison complex. Rooms could be adapted for confinement whenever they were needed.
Imprisonment itself also served a different role in medieval justice than it does in modern legal systems. Long prison sentences were not the standard punishment for most crimes. People might be detained while awaiting trial, payment, transfer, ransom or another punishment, but maintaining large prison populations for many years was uncommon.
In The Medieval Prison: A Social History, Guy Geltner explains that the practice of imprisoning larger numbers of people for extended periods began to develop during the later Middle Ages. It became far more widespread in the centuries that followed. The image of the dungeon therefore combines genuine medieval captivity with prison systems and punishments that became more characteristic of later periods.
How Castles Became Dungeons
This room in Warwick Castle is said to be a dungeon – they have even added a gibbet for more authenticity. However, it is more likely that this was a latrine for the castle – photo by Chensiyuan / Wikimedia Commons
The history of the word itself helps explain the confusion. In his article “Our Own Dark Hearts: Re-Evaluating the Medieval Dungeon,” Chris Bishop traces how the meaning of dungeon changed over time.
The English word began appearing in the fourteenth century and was derived from the Old French donjon. A donjon was not originally an underground prison. It was the principal tower or keep of a castle, often one of its largest, strongest and most prestigious buildings.
The term may also have become associated with the Old English word dung, referring to an underground dwelling. By the end of the Middle Ages, dungeon could have an ambiguous meaning. During the sixteenth century, however, it increasingly came to signify a place of confinement. As Bishop observes, “the dungeon had taken on an almost universally negative connotation.”
This linguistic transformation occurred alongside major changes in the function of castles. Gunpowder weapons reduced the military effectiveness of many traditional fortifications. Some castles were abandoned or dismantled, while others were converted into residences, administrative buildings, warehouses or prisons.
Once governments began using obsolete castles to incarcerate people, the distinction between a castle and a dungeon became increasingly blurred. Buildings originally constructed for medieval warfare acquired new identities as early modern prisons. Their age and imposing architecture encouraged people to assume that they had always served this purpose.
As Bishop writes:
Castles became dungeons only after the age of the cannon dawned, and it was at this time too, that dungeons began to figure so prominently not just in our creative literature, but in the historical record as well.
The dungeon was therefore not entirely invented. Rather, it emerged from the changing use of medieval buildings after their original military purpose had declined. Later generations projected those new uses backwards, making imprisonment appear to have been an essential feature of castles from the beginning.
How Tourism Preserved the Dungeon Myth
The Lochgefängnisse, or Medieval Hole Prison, in Nuremberg – photo by Janericloebe / Wikimedia Commons
Tourism completed the transformation. During the nineteenth century, castles, ruined abbeys and old civic buildings were increasingly preserved and promoted as historic attractions. Their owners and local authorities needed compelling stories that would encourage people to visit.
A storeroom or latrine offered little excitement. A dungeon associated with imprisonment, torture and mysterious deaths was much easier to market. Guidebooks and local traditions consequently turned unexplained chambers into places of suffering, often without strong historical evidence.
Bishop explains:
Keen to turn their castles and town halls (and even derelict abbeys) into tourist attractions, private owners and civic councils produced ready guides and foldable maps that celebrated the dark past of these monuments. Historical accuracy, of course, took a back seat to sensationalism, and the tourist literature abounded with stories of bloody murders, fearsome torture, and revenant ghosts.
This process continues. Visitors to Nuremberg’s city hall can tour the Lochgefängnisse, or Medieval Hole Prison, complete with a torture chamber. In London, the popular London Dungeon attraction promises a recreation of the Tower of London’s torture chamber, described as the “home of incarceration, humiliation and pain…” The attraction is not located at the Tower itself but beside the London Eye and the Sea Life Aquarium.
These attractions reflect what modern audiences expect medieval history to look like. The dungeon has become so firmly connected with castles that its absence may seem more surprising than its presence.
Dungeons will probably remain part of the popular image of the Middle Ages. Medieval castles did hold prisoners, and some of those captives endured harsh conditions. Yet the evidence does not support the idea that castles routinely contained the underground chambers found in modern fiction.
When a sign points visitors towards a castle’s “medieval dungeon,” it is therefore worth looking more closely. The room may once have held a prisoner, but it may just as easily have stored wine, weapons or food—or served as the castle latrine.
Dark underground cells, rusting chains and prisoners abandoned beneath a castle have become familiar images of the Middle Ages. But how much of the medieval dungeon is genuine history, and how much was created by later writers, tourists and popular entertainment?
The Dungeon of Popular Imagination
When most people imagine a dungeon inside a medieval castle, they picture an underground chamber: cold, damp and almost completely dark. Prisoners are chained to stone walls while their guards prepare instruments of torture nearby. It is one of the most familiar images of the Middle Ages, appearing repeatedly in novels, films, television programmes and video games. One influential description presents precisely this kind of dungeon:
the floor of which was deep beneath the level of the ground, and very damp, being lower than even the moat itself. The only light was received through one or two loop-holes far above the reach of the captive’s hand. These apertures admitted, even at mid-day, only a dim and uncertain light, which was changed for utter darkness long before the rest of the castle had lost the blessing of day. Chains and shackles, which had been the portion of former captives, from whom active exertions to escape had been apprehended, hung rusted and empty on the walls of the prison, and in the rings of one of those sets of fetters there remained two mouldering bones, which seemed to have been once those of the human leg, as if some prisoner had been left not only to perish there, but to be consumed to a skeleton.
This description sounds like an account of medieval imprisonment, but it comes from Walter Scott’s novel Ivanhoe, first published in 1819. The enormous popularity of Scott’s work helped shape how later generations imagined the Middle Ages. Other novels, films and games reinforced the same picture until the underground dungeon became an almost essential feature of the medieval castle.
Medieval castles certainly held prisoners. What is much harder to find is evidence for the purpose-built subterranean chambers filled with chains and torture equipment that popular culture has taught us to expect. Many rooms now identified as dungeons were originally used for entirely different purposes.
Was “Little Ease” Really a Dungeon?
The Tower of London provides a revealing example. Numerous books, websites and videos refer to “Little Ease,” supposedly a cramped prison cell beneath the White Tower in which captives could neither stand upright nor lie down comfortably.
Photographs show what appears to be a doorway leading into a very small room, almost resembling a closet. According to the traditional story, the name “Little Ease” reflected the suffering of prisoners confined inside it. The Royal Collection Trust, a charity connected with several important historic sites, although not responsible for the Tower of London, offers this description:
The infamous torture cell was so-called due to its tiny size: it measured a mere 1.2m square. Its cramped size prevented prisoners from settling in any bearable position: they were unable to stand, sit or lie down. Furthermore, the windowless cell was in constant blackness. The inhabitant was forced to crouch in solitary confinement for days or even a week, before being released for interrogation and torture. It is likely that such torture cells were ubiquitous in Europe’s prisons at this time.
The architecture of the room tells a less dramatic story. Examination of the space indicates that its back wall was once another doorway. Rather than being designed as a prison cell, it originally served as a short passage between two rooms. At an unknown date, one entrance was blocked, leaving behind the confined space visible today. “Little Ease” may therefore be an architectural remnant created by one of the many alterations made to the White Tower over the centuries.
The best-known story associated with the room concerns Edmund Campion, a Jesuit priest executed in 1581. Accounts of his life often claim that he spent four days in Little Ease. The ultimate source, however, appears to be a history of the Jesuits written by Daniello Bartoli in 1667, nearly a century after Campion’s imprisonment.
Bartoli states that Campion spent four days in the Tower of London in a place called “Liteleas,” which he describes as “closed and dark, that there was no air or light to enter it, and so narrow and low, which could not hold itself upright, nor to lie there other than huddled.”
There are reasons to treat this account cautiously. Bartoli was writing in Italy decades after the event, and his purpose was to celebrate the suffering of Jesuit martyrs. His description also does not identify the location of “Liteleas” within the White Tower. Even if Campion was confined in a place bearing that name, it does not necessarily follow that it was the small room now shown as Little Ease.
The White Tower’s use during this period raises further questions. By the fourteenth century, it was occasionally used as a residence but served mainly as a repository for royal records. By the middle of the sixteenth century, it had become the country’s principal gunpowder store and was even attracting visitors. This makes it an unlikely location for the regular confinement of prisoners.
Little Ease may have received its name during the seventeenth century, when visitors encountered the blocked passage and speculated about its original purpose. A strange, unexplained space gradually became an imaginary dungeon. As the story was repeated, it became attached not only to Campion but also to the medieval history of the White Tower.
Similar traditions developed at castles across Europe. Storerooms, cellars, ice chambers, latrines and other unfamiliar spaces were identified as dungeons because later visitors could no longer understand their original functions. The dungeon story was invariably more memorable than the architectural reality.
Where Medieval Prisoners Were Actually Held
Rejecting the familiar dungeon does not mean that medieval castles never contained prisoners. Captured enemies, political opponents and valuable hostages were frequently held inside them. The important difference is that these captives were not necessarily placed in underground cells.
In many cases, prisoners were confined in towers or ordinary rooms. Their treatment depended heavily on their wealth, social status and political importance. Noble captives could expect accommodation appropriate to their rank, particularly if they were likely to be exchanged or ransomed. Some retained servants, received suitable food and enjoyed considerable freedom within the castle, although they remained under guard.
The fate of Gruffydd ap Llywelyn illustrates where an important medieval captive might be held. Gruffydd, a Welsh prince and political hostage, was imprisoned high inside the Tower of London rather than beneath it. In 1244, he attempted to escape by lowering himself from the tower with a makeshift rope. The rope failed, and he fell 90 feet to his death.
Castles were primarily fortified residences, military strongholds and administrative centres. They could also hold prisoners, but this did not mean that every castle contained a permanent prison complex. Rooms could be adapted for confinement whenever they were needed.
Imprisonment itself also served a different role in medieval justice than it does in modern legal systems. Long prison sentences were not the standard punishment for most crimes. People might be detained while awaiting trial, payment, transfer, ransom or another punishment, but maintaining large prison populations for many years was uncommon.
In The Medieval Prison: A Social History, Guy Geltner explains that the practice of imprisoning larger numbers of people for extended periods began to develop during the later Middle Ages. It became far more widespread in the centuries that followed. The image of the dungeon therefore combines genuine medieval captivity with prison systems and punishments that became more characteristic of later periods.
How Castles Became Dungeons
The history of the word itself helps explain the confusion. In his article “Our Own Dark Hearts: Re-Evaluating the Medieval Dungeon,” Chris Bishop traces how the meaning of dungeon changed over time.
The English word began appearing in the fourteenth century and was derived from the Old French donjon. A donjon was not originally an underground prison. It was the principal tower or keep of a castle, often one of its largest, strongest and most prestigious buildings.
The term may also have become associated with the Old English word dung, referring to an underground dwelling. By the end of the Middle Ages, dungeon could have an ambiguous meaning. During the sixteenth century, however, it increasingly came to signify a place of confinement. As Bishop observes, “the dungeon had taken on an almost universally negative connotation.”
This linguistic transformation occurred alongside major changes in the function of castles. Gunpowder weapons reduced the military effectiveness of many traditional fortifications. Some castles were abandoned or dismantled, while others were converted into residences, administrative buildings, warehouses or prisons.
Once governments began using obsolete castles to incarcerate people, the distinction between a castle and a dungeon became increasingly blurred. Buildings originally constructed for medieval warfare acquired new identities as early modern prisons. Their age and imposing architecture encouraged people to assume that they had always served this purpose.
As Bishop writes:
Castles became dungeons only after the age of the cannon dawned, and it was at this time too, that dungeons began to figure so prominently not just in our creative literature, but in the historical record as well.
The dungeon was therefore not entirely invented. Rather, it emerged from the changing use of medieval buildings after their original military purpose had declined. Later generations projected those new uses backwards, making imprisonment appear to have been an essential feature of castles from the beginning.
How Tourism Preserved the Dungeon Myth
Tourism completed the transformation. During the nineteenth century, castles, ruined abbeys and old civic buildings were increasingly preserved and promoted as historic attractions. Their owners and local authorities needed compelling stories that would encourage people to visit.
A storeroom or latrine offered little excitement. A dungeon associated with imprisonment, torture and mysterious deaths was much easier to market. Guidebooks and local traditions consequently turned unexplained chambers into places of suffering, often without strong historical evidence.
Bishop explains:
Keen to turn their castles and town halls (and even derelict abbeys) into tourist attractions, private owners and civic councils produced ready guides and foldable maps that celebrated the dark past of these monuments. Historical accuracy, of course, took a back seat to sensationalism, and the tourist literature abounded with stories of bloody murders, fearsome torture, and revenant ghosts.
This process continues. Visitors to Nuremberg’s city hall can tour the Lochgefängnisse, or Medieval Hole Prison, complete with a torture chamber. In London, the popular London Dungeon attraction promises a recreation of the Tower of London’s torture chamber, described as the “home of incarceration, humiliation and pain…” The attraction is not located at the Tower itself but beside the London Eye and the Sea Life Aquarium.
These attractions reflect what modern audiences expect medieval history to look like. The dungeon has become so firmly connected with castles that its absence may seem more surprising than its presence.
Dungeons will probably remain part of the popular image of the Middle Ages. Medieval castles did hold prisoners, and some of those captives endured harsh conditions. Yet the evidence does not support the idea that castles routinely contained the underground chambers found in modern fiction.
When a sign points visitors towards a castle’s “medieval dungeon,” it is therefore worth looking more closely. The room may once have held a prisoner, but it may just as easily have stored wine, weapons or food—or served as the castle latrine.
Further Reading:
Walter George Bell, The Tower of London (John Lane, 1921)
Chris Bishop, “Our Own Dark Hearts: Re-Evaluating the Medieval Dungeon,” in JAEMA: Journal of the Australian Early Medieval Association, Vol. 15 (2019), 105-126.
Guy Geltner, The Medieval Prison: A Social History (Princeton University Press, 2008)
Top Image: An illustration from an 1897 copy of The innocents abroad – Wikimedia Commons
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