JUNE 11.
Say what you will, I can remain here no longer. Why should I remain? Time
hangs heavy upon my hands. The prince is as gracious to me as any one could
be, and yet I am not at my ease. There is, indeed, nothing in common between
us. He is a man of understanding, but quite of the ordinary kind. His
conversation affords me no more amusement than I should derive from the
perusal of a well-written book. I shall remain here a week longer, and then start
again on my travels. My drawings are the best things I have done since I came
here. The prince has a taste for the arts, and would improve if his mind were not
fettered by cold rules and mere technical ideas. I often lose patience, when, with
a glowing imagination, I am giving expression to art and nature, he interferes
with learned suggestions, and uses at random the technical phraseology of
artists.
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