188s LETTERS FROM ROME ge 



and try the effect of the more bracing air. The Pincio is the 

 only part of Rome that is fit to live in, and unfortunately the 

 Government does not offer to build me a house there. 



However, I have got a great deal of enjoyment out of ancient 

 Rome — papal Rome is too brutally pagan (and in the worst pos- 

 sible taste too) for me. 



To his Daughter, Mrs. Roller 



Jan. II, 1885. 



We have now had nearly three weeks in Rome. I am sick of 

 churches, galleries, and museums, and meanly make M — ■ — go 

 and see them and tell me about them. As we are one flesh, it 

 is just the same as if I had seen them. 



Since the time of Constantine there has been nothing but 

 tawdry rubbish in the shape of architecture * — the hopeless bad 

 taste of the Papists is a source of continual gratification to me 

 as a good Protestant (and something more). As for the skies, 

 they are as changeable as those of England — the only advantage 

 is the absence of frost and snow — (raining cats and dogs this 

 Sunday morning). 



But down to the time of Constantine, Rome is endlessly in- 

 teresting, and if I were well I should like to spend some months 

 in exploring it. As it is, I do very little, though I have con- 

 trived to pick up all I want to know about Pagan Rome and the 

 Catacombs, which last are my especial weakness. 



My master and physician is bothered a good deal with 

 eczema — otherwise very lively. All the chief collections in 

 Rome are provided with a pair of her spectacles, which she 

 leaves behind. Several new opticians' shops are set up on the 

 strength of the purchases in this line she is necessitated to make. 



I want to be back at work, but I am horribly afraid I should 

 be no good yet. We are thinking of going to Florence at the end 

 of this week to see what the drier and colder air there will do. 



With our dear love to you all — we are wae for a sight of 

 you. — Ever your loving father, T. H. Huxley. 



Hotel Victoria, Via dei due Macelli, 

 Jan. 16, 1885. 

 My dear Foster — It seems to me that I am giving my 

 friends a word of trouble. . . . 



I have had a bad week of it, and the night before last was 



* For his appreciation of the great dome of the Pantheon, see p. 134. 



