You insist so much on my not neglecting my drawing, that it would be as
well for me to say nothing as to confess how little I have lately done.
I never felt happier, I never understood nature better, even down to the
veriest stem or smallest blade of grass; and yet I am unable to express
myself: my powers of execution are so weak, everything seems to swim
and float before me, so that I cannot make a clear, bold outline. But
I fancy I should succeed better if I had some clay or wax to model. I
shall try, if this state of mind continues much longer, and will take to
modelling, if I only knead dough.
I have commenced Charlotte's portrait three times, and have as often
disgraced myself. This is the more annoying, as I was formerly very
happy in taking likenesses. I have since sketched her profile, and must
content myself with that.