LETTER FROM ROME 



In January 1885 he went to Rome, whence he writes :- 



HOTEL VICTORIA, VIA DEI DUE MACELLI, 

 ROME, Jan. 8, 1885. 



MY DEAR FOSTER We have been here a fortnight very well 

 lodged south aspect, fireplace, and all the rest of the essentials 

 except sunshine. Of this last there is not much more than in 

 England, and the grey skies day after day are worthy of our 

 native land. Sometimes it rains cats and dogs all day by way 

 of a change as on Christmas Day but it is not cold. " Quite 

 exceptional weather," they tell us, but that seems to be the rule 

 everywhere. We have done a respectable amount of gallery- 

 slaving, and I have been amusing myself by picking up the 

 topography of ancient Rome. I was going to say Pagan Rome, 

 but the inappropriateness of the distinction strikes me, papal 

 Rome being much more stupidly and childishly pagan than im- 

 perial. I never saw a sadder sight than the kissing a wretched 

 bedizened doll of a Bambino that went on in the Ara Coeli on 

 Twelfth day. Your puritan soul would have longed to arise 

 and slay. . . . 



As to myself, though it is a very unsatisfactory subject and 

 one I am very tired of bothering my friends about, I am like the 

 farmer at the rent-dinner, and don't find myself much " for- 

 rarder." That is to say, I am well for a few days and then all 

 adrift, and have to put myself right by dosing with Clark's pills, 

 which are really invaluable. They will make me believe in those 

 pills I saw advertised in my youth, and which among other 

 things were warranted to cure ' the indecision of juries." I 

 really can't make out my own condition. I walked seven or 

 eight miles this morning over Monte Mario and out on the Cam- 

 .pagna without any particular fatigue, and yesterday I was as 

 miserable as an owl in sunshine. Something perhaps must be 

 put down to the relapse which our poor girl had a week ago, 

 and which became known to us in a terrible way. She had 

 apparently quite recovered, and arrangements were made for 

 their going abroad, and now everything is upset. I warned 

 her husband that this was very likely, but did not sufficiently 

 take the warning to myself. 



You are taking a world of trouble for me, and Donnelly 

 writes I am to do as I like so far as they are concerned. I have 

 heard nothing from the Home Office, and I suppose it would be 

 proper for me to write if I want any more leave. I really hardly 

 know what to do. I can't say I feel very fit for the hurly-burly 



