1885 LETTERS FROM ROME 97 



Hotel Victoria, Rome, Via dei due Macelli, 

 Jan. 18, 1885. 



My dear Donnelly — Official sentence of exile for two 

 months more (up to May 12) arrived yesterday. So if my lords 

 will be so kind as to concur I shall be able to disport myself with 

 a clear conscience. I hope their lordships won't think that I 

 am taking things too easy in not making a regular application, 

 and I will do so if you think it better. But if it had rested with 

 me I think I should have got back in February and taken my 

 chance. That energetic woman that owns me, and Michael 

 Foster, however, have taken the game out of my hands, and I 

 have nothing to do but to submit. 



On the whole I feel it is wise. I shall have more chance if I 

 escape not only the cold but the bother of London for a couple 

 of months more. 



I was very bad a week ago, but I have taken to dosing myself 

 with quinine, and either that or something else has given me a 

 spurt for the last two days, so that I have been more myself than 

 any time since I left, and begin to think that there is life in the old 

 dog yet. If one could only have some fine weather ! To-day there 

 is the first real sunshine we have been favoured with for a week. 



We are just back from a great function at St. Peter's. It is 

 the festa of St. Peter's chair, and the ex-dragoon Cardinal How- 

 ard has been fugleman in the devout adorations addressed to 

 that venerable article of furniture, which, as you ought to know, 

 but probably don't, is inclosed in a bronze double and perched up 

 in a shrine of the worst possible taste in the Tribuna of St. 

 Peter's. The display of man-millinery and lace was enough to 

 fill the lightest-minded woman with envy, and a general concert 

 — some of the music very good— prevented us from feeling dull, 

 while the ci-devant guardsman — big, burly, and bullet-headed 

 — made God and then eat him.* I must have a strong strain of 

 Puritan blood in me somewhere, for I am possessed with a desire 

 to arise and slay the whole brood of idolators whenever I assist 

 at one of these ceremonies. You will observe that I am decid- 

 edly better, and have a capacity for a good hatred still. 



The last news about Gordon is delightful. The chances are 

 he will rescue Wolseley yet. 



With our love — Ever yours, T. H. Huxley. 



* A reminiscence of Browning in " The Bishop Orders his Tomb " : — 



And then how I shall lie through centuries, 

 And hear the blessed mutter of the mass, 

 And see God made and eaten all day long. 

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