government, presenting the singular anomaly of a Republic and an Inquisition existing at the same time.

Happily the knowledge that this frightful tribunal existed in Rome was withheld from the people, otherwise they would most certainly have burned the building and its inmates, in the same manner as their forefathers destroyed the old Inquisition, in the Via Ripetta, about the middle of the sixteenth century. The republican government dealt more mildly; and as our readers may be interested to learn the particulars of the various discoveries that were subsequently made in this ominous building, we subjoin a few extracts from the spirited work of M. Gallois' "Derniers Moments de l'Inquisition de Rome," published at Paris in 1850.

"It was no unusual thing," says M. Gallois, "for some respectable citizen of Rome, or a native of the provinces-it might be a father of a family, a mother, a son, or a daughter—to disappear suddenly from among the haunts of men. The event caused a sensation among the members of their immediate circle; they were

mourned over and forgotten. The government made no inquiry; and as bandits and assassins were known to be lurking within the walls of the city, it was considered by no means improbable they had been murdered, and thrown into the Tiber, which carried their bodies to the

sea.

"The dark veil that shrouded these mysterious disappearances was at length withdrawn during the short-lived Republic of Rome, and revealed to the horror-stricken citizens the fearful machinery of the Inquisition, its horrible dungeons, implements of torture, and decayed remains of its victims; and this, be it remembered, in the nineteenth century, when men believed that every vestige of this fearful tribunal had been destroyed-that it lay, wrapped in its winding-sheet, on the sanguinary fields of bigoted Spain. The discovery that it exercised its fearful power not many years since in Rome, and perhaps up to the flight of Pio Nono, was effected through a very trifling incident.

"By two decrees of the Roman Republic, dated the 5th and 30th of April, 1849, monas

teries and nunneries were abolished in the States of the Republic, and after providing pensions for their inmates, their revenues and tenements became public property. Among other attempts of the reformers to improve the condition of the poorer classes, the vast palace of the Inquisition was appropriated as a house of refuge for the poor, and fifteen days allowed to its inmates, the Dominican monks, to provide themselves another home, and remove their effects.

"In the meantime, when every man capable of bearing arms was preparing to meet the invasion of the French, Austrians, Spaniards. and Neapolitans, the lower offices and court of the palace of the Inquisition were selected as the most convenient depository for the tumbrels and waggons, and as stables for the artillery. While making these arrangements, it was found necessary to effect an entrance through one of the walls, when a Dominican monk, one of the inquisitors, made his appearance; and in the name of religion, the Holy Virgin, the Pope, and the sanctity of the place, forbade the sacrilege.

"The great anxiety manifested by the monk to bar their passage, excited the suspicion of the workmen. What harm could there be in breaking an entrance through a wall? and as they entertained no reverence for the place, the Pope, or his authority, the work of demolition continued, and with pickaxe and crowbar, they soon effected an opening. When lo! they found themselves in a dark dungeon, with no other way of ingress or egress than a trap-door in the massive stone arch, leading to a chamber above, occupied by a Dominican monk. This discovery encouraged further investigation, when a succession of horrible dungeons were found underground, extending to the middle of the vast square-the Piazza San Pietro."

We have not space to follow our author in his description of the various cells; the fearful chambers, where the ministers of the Inquisition held their sittings, and punished offences against the church; the implements of torture, and how they were used; the rows of skeletons here nailed against the walls, and there hanging in

chains; the handsful of hair, both of men and women, torn from the head in the anguish of despair, and found strewn over the floor of the cells; the remnants of clothing, the sandals of monks, and the veils of nuns; the handwriting on the walls, so eloquent of misery; the caves in which the victims in former days were consumed by lime, the position of the bones bearing witness of the horrible struggle between life and death. These and many other frightful objects he describes with the most heart-rending minuteness.

It is sufficient to say that the whole population of Rome were horror-struck, and this discovery nerved many an arm during the sanguinary struggle that ensued, which probably might otherwise have remained inactive; and the building itself would have been razed to the ground, had it not been previously made over by the government to the indigent, as a place of refuge.

No prisoner having been found in the cells, it was impossible to ascertain up to what time this infernal tribunal had exercised its functions but timely notice having been given to the