But I did not feel equal
then to speaking of the things of Rome, and shall not, till better
acquaintance has steadied my mind. It is a matter of conscience with
me not to make use of crude impressions, and what they call here
"coffee-house intelligence," as travellers generally do. I prefer
skimming over the surface of things, till I feel solidly ready to
write.
Milan I left with great regret, and hope to return. I knew there a
circle of the aspiring youth, such as I have not in any other city.
I formed many friendships, and learned a great deal. One of the young
men, Guerrieri by name, (and of the famous Gonzaga family,) I really
love. He has a noble soul, the quietest sensibility, and a brilliant
and ardent, though not a great, mind. He is eight-and-twenty. After
studying medicine for the culture, he has taken law as his profession.
His mind and that of Hicks, an artist of our country now here, a
little younger, are two that would interest you greatly. Guerrieri
speaks no English; I speak French now as fluently as English, but
incorrectly. To make use of it, I ought to have learned it earlier.
Arriving here, Mr. Mozier, an American, who from a prosperous merchant
has turned sculptor, come hither to live, and promises much excellence
in his profession, urged me so much to his house, that I came.
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