grace, and majesty of some of
the figures; it was, however, too dark to see the 'Last
Judgment.' I ended by St. Peter's again, where there were many
devout Catholics praying round the illuminated tomb of the
Apostle, and many foolish English poking into it to stare and ask
questions, the answers to which they did not understand. I have
but one fault to find, and that is with the Glory, a miserable
transparency in the great window opposite the entrance, throwing
a yellow light upon the Dove, which has the most paltry effect,
and is utterly unworthy of the grandeur of such a place.

April 1st, 1830 {p.305}

Yesterday morning at nine o'clock went with Edward Cheney and
George Hamilton to Frascati to dine with Henry Fox, who has got a
villa there. As soon as we arrived Cheney and I walked over to
Grotta Ferrata to see Domenichino's frescoes. The convent is
about a mile and a half off, large, formerly rich, full of monks,
and a fortress; also the scene of various miracles performed by
St. Nilo, the founder and patron saint; now tenanted by a few
beggarly friars, and part of it let to Prince Gagarin, the
Russian Minister, as a villa. Domenichino sought and found an
asylum there in consequence of some crime he had committed or
debt he had incurred; he stayed there two years, and in return
for the hospitality of the monks adorned their chapel with (some
think) the finest frescoes in the world. They are splendid
pictures, and all painted by his own hand.

At dinner we had Hortense, the ex-Queen of Holland, her son,
Prince Louis Napoleon, her lady in waiting, Lady Sandwich and her
daughter, Cheney, Hamilton, Lord Lovaine, and Fordwich. We
dined in the garden, but there was too much wind for a _fete
champetre_. Hortense is not near so ugly as I expected, very
unaffected and gay, and gives herself no royal airs. The only
difference between her and anybody else was that, after dinner,
when she rose from table, her own servant presented her with a
finger-glass and water, which nobody else had. She is called
Madame.

We returned by moonlight, and though I did not go into the
Coliseum, because the moon was not full enough, it looked fine,
and the light shining through the lower arches had a beautiful
effect. This morning went a long round of sights--Caesar's
Palace, of which there are no remains but fragments of walls; it
really does 'grovel on earth in indistinct decay.' Caracalla's
Baths, which are stupendous; the _custode