doctrine enough, I should think, but which Mr. Gibson can scarcely be
said to practise. . . . . The difference between the Pre-Raphaelites and
himself is deep and genuine, they being literalists and realists, in a
certain sense, and he a pagan idealist. Methinks they have hold of the
best end of the matter.


March 18th.--To-day, it being very bright and mild, we set out, at noon,
for an expedition to the Temple of Vesta, though I did not feel much
inclined for walking, having been ill and feverish for two or three days
past with a cold, which keeps renewing itself faster than I can get rid
of it. We kept along on this side of the Corso, and crossed the Forum,
skirting along the Capitoline Hill, and thence towards the Circus
Maximus. On our way, looking down a cross street, we saw a heavy arch,
and, on examination, made it out to be the Arch of Janus Quadrifrons,
standing in the Forum Boarium. Its base is now considerably below the
level of the surrounding soil, and there is a church or basilica close
by, and some mean edifices looking down upon it. There is something
satisfactory in this arch, from the immense solidity of its structure.
It gives the idea, in the first place, of a solid mass constructed of
huge blocks of marble, which time can never wear away, nor earthquakes
shake down; and then this solid mass is penetrated by two arched
passages, meeting in the centre. There are empty niches, three in a row,
and, I think, two rows on each face; but there seems to have been very
little effort to make it a beautiful object. On the top is some
brickwork, the remains of a mediaeval fortress built by the Frangipanis,
looking very frail and temporary being brought thus in contact with the
antique strength of the arch.

A few yards off, across the street, and close beside the basilica, is