longed, after the fourth century, to a poor and insignificant mass of people no longer, but to one sufficiently powerful to make itself regarded and feared by a politically wise prince and ruler. It had, in fact, taken possession of the realm, in order to retain which, Constantine, called the Great, was obliged to adopt, or, at least, protect its doctrines.
The most interesting of the mausoleums was that in which the most ancient Bishops of Rome, Popes Sixtus, Fabianus, and many other martyrs, were buried. The inscriptions on the marble tablets above the niches in the walls which contain the dead, are perfectly well preserved, but consist merely of the names of the dead, and the short addition—Martyr.
One inscription in this chamber—not upon a tomb—by Archbishop Damas, of the fourth century, excellently restored by De Rossi, praises “the men and women who are here interred, because they died for their faith.” “In this chamber,” adds the pious bishop, “should I, Damas, have wished to sleep, but I would not disturb the repose of the martyrs.”
In the mausoleum of Saint Cecilia, you see the empty space of the sarcophagus, which is now to be found in the church of Santa Cecilia di Transtovere, together with a painting representing her with a glory, and uplifted, supplicating hands. Other paintings, also of Christian martyrs, are here; amongst these, one of the bishops who interred Saint Cecilia, and whose name, Urbanus, may be easily spelled out in letters which surround his head, like a frame. The paintings are all in the stiff Byzantine style, with rich costumes and gilding. The countenances are no-
