is the "Calais Harbor" in the Liber Studiorum: that
is what he saw just as he was going into the harbor--a heavy brig
warping out, and very likely to get in his way or run against the pier,
and bad weather coming on. Then there is the "Calais Pier," a large
painting, engraved some years ago by Mr. Lupton:[37] that is what he saw
when he had landed, and ran back directly to the pier to see what had
become of the brig. The weather had got still worse, the fishwomen were
being blown about in a distressful manner on the pier head, and some
more fishing-boats were running in with all speed. Then there is the
"Fortrouge," Calais: that is what he saw after he had been home to
Dessein's, and dined, and went out again in the evening to walk on the
sands, the tide being down. He had never seen such a waste of sands
before, and it made an impression on him. The shrimp girls were all
scattered over them too, and moved about in white spots on the wild
shore; and the storm had lulled a little, and there was a sunset--such a
sunset!--and the bars of Fortrouge seen against it, skeleton-wise. He
did not paint that directly; thought over it--painted it a long while
afterwards.

213. Then there is the vignette in the illustrations to Scott. That is
what he saw as he was going home, meditatively; and the revolving
lighthouse came blazing out upon him suddenly, and disturbed him. He
did not like that so much; made a vignette of it, however, when he was
asked to do a bit of Calais, twenty or thirty years afterwards, having
already done all the rest.

Turner never told me all this, but anyone may see it if he will compare
the pictures. They might, possibly, not be impressions of a single day,
but of two days or three; though, in all human probability, they were
seen just as I have stated them;[38] but they _are_ records of
successive impressions, as plainly written as ever traveler's diary. All
of them pure veracities. Therefore immortal.

214. I could multiply these series almost indefinitely from the rest of
his works. What is curious, some of them have a kind of private mark
running through all the subjects. Thus, I know three drawings of
Scarborough, and all of them have a starfish in the foreground: I do not
remember any others of his marine subjects which have a starfish.

The other kind of repetition--the recurrence to one early
impression--is, however, still more remarkable. In the collection of F.
H. Bale, Esq., there is a small