up in my room to collect my scattered wits a little.


Tuesday, January 4th, 1876.

Yesterday Mamma wrote to B----, the brother of the empress's
physician, and to-day he came to our house. He devotes himself to
painting. After this visit, we went out. Oh! the ugly city, the
impure air! What a deplorable mixture of ancient magnificence and
modern filth!

We went through the Corso, the Via Gregoriana, the Forum of Hadrian,
the Forum of Rome, we saw the gates of Septimus Severus, and
Constantine, the Via Pia, the Coliseum, but everything is still
vague, I don't recognise myself. The drive on the Pincio is
charming, the band was playing, but there were not many people when
we were there. Statues, statues everywhere. What would Rome be
without statues? From the summit of the Pincio we looked at the dome
of St. Peter and also the whole city. I am glad to find it is not
over large, it will be easier to know.

On the drive we were amused to meet the S----'s, A----, and P---- of
Rome. The sun did not appear, and the weather was dull and dreary.

On arriving in Rome, I had no artistic feeling. It is Rome that
opened my mind, so I have worshipped her since. I don't want to
visit anything before we are settled. The evening was spent in
consulting the cards and in writing letters.

This stay in Rome seems an exile and it is with unequalled joy that