old, he says: "and Turner--glorious in
conception--unfathomable in knowledge--solitary in power--with the
elements waiting upon his will, and the night and the morning obedient
to his call, sent as a prophet of God to reveal to men the mysteries
of his universe, standing, like the great angel of the Apocalypse,
clothed with a cloud, and with a rainbow upon his head, and with the
sun and stars given into his hand." Little as we are disposed to laugh
at any such aberrations, we must, to remove from our minds the
greater, the more serious offence, indulge in a small degree of
justifiable ridicule; and ask what will sculptor or painter make of
this description, should the reluctant public be convinced by the
"graduate," and in their penitential reverence order statue or
painting of Mr Turner for the Temple of Fame, which it is presumed
Parliament, in their artistic zeal, mean to erect? How will they
venture to represent Mr Turner looking like an angel--in that dress
which would make any man look like a fool--his cloud nightcap tied
with rainbow riband round his head, calling to night and morning, and
little caring which comes, making "ducks and drakes" of the sun and
the stars, put into his hand for that purpose? We will only suggest
one addition, as it completes the grand idea, and is in some degree
characteristic of Mr Turner's peculiar execution, that, with the sun
and stars, there should be delivered into his hand a comet, whose tail
should serve him for a brush, and supply itself with colour. We do not
see, however, why the moon should have been omitted; sun, moon, and
stars, generally go together. Is the author as jealous as the
"majority of the public" may be suspicious of her influence? And let
not the reader believe that Mr Turner is thus called a prophet in mere
joke, or a fashion of words--his prophetic power is advanced in
another passage, wherein it is asserted that Mr Turner not only tells
us in his works what nature has done in hers, but what she will do.
"In fact," says our author, "the great quality about Mr Turner's
drawings, which more especially proves their transcendant truth, is
the capability they afford us of reasoning on past and future
phenomena." The book teems with extravagant bombastic praise like
this. Mr Turner is more than the Magnus Apollo. Yet other English
artists are brought forward, immediately preceding the above
panegyric; we know not if we do them justice, by noticing what is said
of