he two--trees still
drawn leaf by leaf, wholly formal; but beautiful mist coming gradually
into the distance. Well, then, last, here is Turner's; Greek-school of
the highest class; and you define his art, absolutely, as first the
displaying intensely, and with the sternest intellect, of natural form
as it is, and then the envelopment of it with cloud and fire. Only,
there are two sorts of cloud and fire. He knows them both. There's
one, and there's another--the "Dudley" and the "Flint." That's what
the cloud and flame of the dragon mean: now, let me show you what the
dragon means himself.

92. I go back to another perfect landscape of the living Gothic
school. It is only a pencil outline, by Edward Burne-Jones, in
illustration of the story of Psyche; it is the introduction of Psyche,
after all her troubles, into heaven.

Now in this of Burne-Jones, the landscape is clearly full of light
everywhere, color or glass light: that is, the outline is prepared
for modification of color only. Every plant in the grass is set
formally, grows perfectly, and may be realized completely. Exquisite
order, and universal, with eternal life and light, this is the faith
and effort of the schools of Crystal; and you may describe and
complete their work quite literally by taking any verses of Chaucer in
his tender mood, and observing how he insists on the clearness and
brightness first, and then on the order. Thus, in Chaucer's "Dream":

"Within an yle me thought I was,
Where wall and yate was all of glasse,
And so was closed round about
That leavelesse none come in ne out,
Uncouth and straunge to beholde,
For every yate of fine golde
A thousand fanes, aie turning,
Entuned had, and briddes singing
Divers, and on each fane a paire
With open mouth again here;
And of a sute were all the toures
Subtily corven after floures,
Of uncouth colors during aye
That never been none seene in May."

93. Next to this drawing of Psyche I place two of Turner's most
beautiful classical landscapes. At once you are out of the open
daylight, either in sunshine admitted partially through trembling
leaves, or in the last rays of its setting, scarcely any more warm on
the darkness of the ilex wood. In both, the vegetation, though
beautiful, is absolutely wild and uncared for, as it seems, either by
human or by higher powers, which, having appointed for it the laws of
its being, leave it