Think of Raphael and Michael Angelo! (though I know but little of them).—To think that every grand feeling they had they could preserve for centuries! Oh what an influence they must have! Think of the thousands of great thoughts they must have created in people's minds; the millions of sorrow that one great picture (one truly great picture) would calm and comfort. Will that never be painted again? Do you think there will? And when? I am going to see the Dulwich Gallery soon. Is it not glorious? I wish you could see a bit of hawthorn I have here, such colours! I am writing a curious letter; just what comes foremost in my mind. … When I have finished work and go up to tea, if any one is out of spirits, it makes me so; and I feel (do you know what I mean?) a tear in my throat.
July 13th, /53.
To Gertrude.
I write to you because I wish to give you a happier impression of me than you can have from Tuesday. I am all alone; it is so still; and I am very happy; now I will try and account for the strange state I was in last night.
When I got into the country I felt that, if I stayed looking at sky and trees and flowers,[1] my friends would think me dull and become dull themselves and spoil all enjoyment. So all the day my whole energies were "stretched" to be merry and lively. I felt that if I waited one moment to look at anything, I should
- ↑ A party of four people.
