[2] The regret I expressed in the third volume at Turner's not having been educated under the influence of Gothic art was, therefore, mistaken; I had not then had access to his earlier studies. He _was_ educated under the influence of Gothic architecture; but, in more advanced life, his mind was warped and weakened by classical architecture. Why he left the one for the other, or how far good influences were mingled with evil in the result of the change, I have not yet been able to determine. [3] They may be referred to with ease in Boone's Catalogue of Turner's Pictures, 1857. [4] Smith's Dictionary of Greek and Roman Geography. Art. "Cyrenaica." [5] Her name is also that of the Hesperid nymph; but I give the Hesperid her Greek form of name, to distinguish her from the goddess. The Hesperid Arethusa has the same subordinate relation to Ceres; and Erytheia, to Venus. Æglé signifies especially the spirit of brightness or cheerfulness including even the subordinate idea of household neatness or cleanliness. [6] It is merely a sketch on the steel, like the illustrations before given of composition; but it marks the points needing note. Perhaps some day I may be able to engrave it of the full size. CHAPTER XI. THE HESPERID ÆGLÉ. § 1. Five years after the Hesperides were painted, another great mythological subject appeared by Turner's hand. Another dragon--this time not triumphant, but in death-pang; the Python, slain by Apollo. Not in a garden, this slaying, but in a hollow, among wildest rocks, beside a stagnant pool. Yet, instead of the sombre coloring of the Hesperid hills, strange gleams of blue and gold flit around the mountain peaks, and color the clouds above them. The picture is at once the type, and the first expression of a great change which was passing in Turner's mind. A change, which was not clearly manifested in all its results until much later in his life; but in the coloring of this picture are the first signs of it; and in the subject of this picture, its symbol. § 2. Had Turner died early, the reputation he would have left, though great and enduring, would have been strangely different from that which ultimately must now attach to his name. He would have been remembered as one of the severest of painters; his iron touch and positive form would have been continually opposed to the delicacy of Claude and richness of Titian; he would have been spoken of, popularly, as a man who had no eye for color. Perhaps here and there a watchful critic might have shown this popular idea to be false; but no conception could have been formed by any one of the man's real disposition or capacity. It was only after the year 1820 that these were determinable, and his peculiar work discerned.