e universal presence of it in those of Turner. The
conclusions which may be arrived at from it.

Sec. 25. The multiplication of objects, or increase of their size, will not
give the impression of infinity, but is the resource of novices.

For instance, in the picture of Salvator before noticed, No. 220 in the
Dulwich Gallery, as we see at once that the two masses of cloud
absolutely repeat each other in every one of their forms, and that each
is composed of about twelve white sweeps of the brush, all forming the
same curve, and all of the same length; and as we can count these, and
measure their common diameter, and by stating the same to anybody else,
convey to him a full and perfect idea and knowledge of that sky in all
its parts and proportions,--as we can do this, we may be absolutely
certain, without reference to the real sky, or to any other part of
nature, without even knowing what the white things were intended for, we
may be certain that they cannot possibly resemble _anything_; that
whatever they were meant for, they can be nothing but a violent
contradiction of all nature's principles and forms. When, on the other
hand, we take up such a sky as that of Turner's Rouen, seen from St.
Catherine's Hill, in the Rivers of France, and find, in the first place,
that he has given us a distance over the hills in the horizon, into
which, when we are tired of penetrating, we must turn and come back
again, there being not the remotest chance of getting to the end of it;
and when we see that from this measureless distance up to the zenith,
the whole sky is one ocean of alternate waves of cloud and light, so
blended together that the eye cannot rest on any one without being
guided to the next, and so to a hundred more, till it is lost over and
over again in every wreath--that if it divides the sky into quarters of
inches, and tries to count or comprehend the component parts of any
single one of those divisions, it is still as utterly defied and
defeated by the part as by the whole--that there is not one line out of
the millions there which repeats another, not one which is unconnected
with another, not one which does not in itself convey histories of
distance and space, and suggest new and changeful form; then we may be
all but certain, though these forms are too mysterious and too delicate
for us to analyze--though all is so crowded and so connected that it is
impossible to test any single part by particula