15 FEBRUARY 1879, Page 17

TURNER'S L1BER STUDIORUM.*

TUE Liber Studiorum of Turner is sometimes looked upon as a. central type of his Art when it was in its most admirable style, and as the chief monument by which a far posterity will be cognisant of his power. Without presuming in any way to ven- ture to correct the prevalent and exceptional esteem in which it is held, as being an instance of Turner's totally uninjured work, it has always seemed to us that the despair over the condition of Turner's oil-pictures is an exaggerated one, and partly a. phantom fear. As a matter of fact, there is a very extensive series of his great oil-pictures totally uninjured,—such pictures as the " Falls of Schaffhausen," a most marvellous work, now at the Royal Academy ; or the " Death of Nelson," or " Crossing the Brook." All these series will, no doubt, last like Titian's now, under careful keeping, And of his supreme work, ".Ulysses and Polyphemus," "The Old T6mCraire," and "Rain, Steam, and Speed," to single out a few, have not deteriorated more than the works of other great colourists. It is, of course, to works of great beauty of colour that alteration is so fatal, for indeed there may possibly exist pictures with which Time has dealt so tenderly, that they look better now than when they were young and fresh_ But the mighty painting of Turner will probably leave many of its different phases, even where it spreads into a prismatic aurora, still essentialy unimpaired in the future,—a future which will think of him as having at once attained, through his extra- ordinary originality, what some of his contemporary brethren would be then only gradually gaining,—the lasting appellation of a great master.

The Liber Studiorvin, a name suggested by the Libel. Veritatis of Claude, was probably never intended as a rival to that publi- cation, in the sense that is popularly given to the word " No one knew so well as Turner the radical difference between the two works. Claude's book was a collection of brown-ink sketches, tinted with sepia, of his chief pictures. This collection he called his Libri de Verita, because, by means of it, he could identify his own pictures, in case of forgery. But Turner was not dependent upon such a means of identification, and we must not consider his " Liber," undertaken with totally different technical conditions, to have been meant for a rival, with unfair advantages on its side. To read some of Turner's critics and biographers, one would think that Turner had no perception of matters like this difference between the works, though, no doubt, on all sides of that question he would have been as well versed as a libraryful of us critics. When Turner was young, he had to en- dure a great deal of adverse criticism from certain quarters that were influential in society. Sir George Beaumont, who always carried about a little Claude with him in his carriage, doubtless a sincere man, not only criticised Turner, but ridiculed him. At every turn, Claude was held up to him as a model artist in his Hue of art. Turner was not in the habit either of talking or criticising; it is well known that he was extremely averse to passing judg- ment on artists, and he even extended this feeling to the old painters. But instead of talking criticism, he often set himself to painting it most trenchantly and originally, and we fully- admit that there is no doubt that in the Liber Studiorton, he endeavoured to set before the world specimens of his quality, to compare with the then exceedingly popular reproduction of Liber Veritatis. By framing them in a Claudesque manner, their individual meaning would come out with fresh clearness, and Turner would show that he had as much claim to respect for his grand and scientific creations, as Claude possessed for founding this particular branch of art. Whatever Turner was, he was no man for jealousy. So far as we know, Mr. Hamerton never made a more serious mistake about artists than when he said that it is natural for artists to be jealous of one another. It is an assertion as far as possible removed from being true with respect to real artists. It is an ascertained fact that Turner was particularly free from mean or unkind feelings. The pictures of Turner that he desired to be hung next to those by Claude in the National Gallery, he considered to be in the most honourable company. Yet future ages might see, for • Turner's Libel. Studiorum. A Description and a Catalogue. By W. G. Basun- son. London : Macmillan and Co.

truth's sake, not Turner's, how much greater things had been done in some respects, though at the same time with the necessary sacrifice of other qualities. But for this work—this supple- menting and completing the achievements of Claude—he had endured in his life-time a remarkable amount of criticism, and not a little neglect and ridicule.

It doubtless requires a certain amount of hardihood to carry -through such projects relating to oneself as Turner succeeded in achieving. But we do not believe that any weight whatever should be set down to personal vanity. To get some certainty of his works being seen and honoured, for the sake of the light that was in them, for the sake of that which caused him to be a painter, poor Turner was quite willing to risk for all futurity his good-name for a modest self-estimate. That did not matter. But to read his recent biographers, one might almost believe that he was nothing but an egoistic and single-facultied monster. Mr. Hamerton has again made the worst statement of this kind, in saying that probably every reader of his book will be more of a gentleman, as the world considers that word, than Turner. We sincerely believe this view to be suggested by a hasty and flimsy consideration of some of the anecdotes of Turner's life.

But it should be remembered that this painter, put so low down in the social scale, alike below the casual reader and the cultured critic, saw as fair a vision as has ever been granted to mortal painters. In tenderness, refinement, and in deep and un- searchable sympathy with every melody of light and line and hue, this man stood nearly alone. He was not the man whom Mr. Hamerton has represented. He felt he was somewhat soli- tary, and his whole life was passed more in relation to his ideas and to the truth in art that he believed in, than with reference to his life as a social factor. But this was not a unique phe- nomenon among artists. Among the very greatest, Beethoven was another such man, though probably of higher acquired culture than Turner, through the circumstances of his early life. It seems that we have no valid reason at all to magnify the personal characteristics of these men. Their peculiarities were but the outward signs of a ferment going on within, which, added to the intensest endurance, succeeded in making millions of their fellow-beings happier and lighter-hearted. In reading any criticism on Art, the public should remember that the creative artist had his thoughts, and his difficulties, and his judicial questions to decide in every step of his work ; and though they were never written down, none the less did they constitute a laborious mental preparation for the result, that looks so clear and fine and masterly.

The Liter Stncliorlon was produced at intervals during a period of twelve years,—from 1807, when Turner was thirty-two years old, until 1819. It was to have consisted of one hundred plates, and in Turner's advertisement it is set forth as "intended as an illustration of Landscape Composition, classed as follows :- Historical, Mountainous, Pastoral, Marine, and Architectural. Each number contains five engravings in mezzotint ; one subject of each class." The seventieth plate was reached, but then the publication was stopped. Twenty additional plates of a yet higher quality than almost all of those already published were partly completed, and preparatory sepia designs for the whole series were accomplished. Turner disposed of the numbers at his own house in Queen-Anne Street, stitched in a deep grey-blue wrapper, with his initials written upon it. We must confess to having felt amusement at reading Mr. Hamerton's lament over the want of taste in the getting-up of the publication. He thinks it would have sold better had it been enclosed more ornamentally, and had it had capacious margins. But surely these surround- ings, these trimmings and dressings, are only part of a quite modern fashion, not unfrequently rendered necessary by de- fective work. We never found Michelangelo and Lionardo embellishing their drawings. In our opinion, the simple dark- blue covers and small margins of the Liter by no means de- tracted from its effects, though we say this with some ap- prehension, in such times of decoration as our own. But though we may wander through rooms of most fairy-like grace, their walls enriched and irradiated with deep-coloured peacocks, with spaces allotted for pictures in the midst of an arabesque of barred and faint crimson, it may yet be doubted whether we shall see any better art than in the simple house of Raphael. Chairs, being indeed excellent and interesting articles, are yet, under no circumstances, as we take it, to be looked upon with the feelings that a real work of art should awaken. The present book of Mr. Rawlinson is a very careful and accurate catalogue of the whole series of the Libel', with

references to the different states (or printings) of each plate. The work will be a erne qud non to every one interested in this particular branch of art.

The subjects of the Liter Siudiorum constitute a most varied and comprehensive scheme. To give a few examples of the char- acter of subject, we have instances of the deepest natural beauty, pure inspirations from nature, in the " Dunstanborough Castle," " Blair Athol," " Solway Moss," " Raglan Castle," " Ben Arthur," "The Basle," " Morpeth," "London, from Greenwich," "Inverary Pier," and" Loch Fyne—Early Morning;" these form a series of brilliant and hearty renderings of architecture, and its bearing upon the aspects of busy human life. We find solemn records of the poetry of twilight, and subdued or lonely grandeur, assimilated with enthusiasm from Titian, in the " Jason," the " Rispah," and the " Procris and Cephalus." Again, we are dwelling over simple and homely English sub- jects,—the "Interior of a Church," the " Bridge and Cows," the " Farmyard," " Hedging and Ditching," " Calm," " Pope's Villa, Twickenham," the " Watercress Gatherers," and many more. The historical element—in Turner's time, so essential to high art—is represented by a very few scenes, chiefly from Scripture,—the " Tenth Plague of Egypt," the " Fifth Plague," and a representation of " Christ and the Woman of Samaria." Then there is a series of extraordinarily grand Swiss views, " The Chain of the Alps, from Grenoble to Chamb4ri,' " Watermill on the Grande Chartreuse," " The Mer de Glace," and The Source of the Arveron," to adopt Turner's spelling.

But among the plates that were unfortunately never published occur some of the finest results. " The Sheep-Washing, Windsor," " Stonehenge at Daybreak," with those marvellous morning clouds, and the hurrying stage-coach ; the plate known as " The Stork and Aqueduct ;" " The Lost Sailor," engulfed in a tower- ing abyss, between the rigid, grinding rock and an angry sea of overwhelming volume ; or the precise and calm winter morn- ing's view of " Crowhurst, Sussex,"—these plates can but be looked upon in silent wonder.

In fact, to the true student of Turner, the name Liber Stud/t- ory/in calls up a charm. Between those mellow, pressed leaves he feels the presence of an enchanted world. Should he venture to open it haphazard, he may be startled by coming suddenly upon a subject so vivid that he had lost the right remembrance of it. Those deep and glorious mountain chasms, crossed by the pliant foot-bridge ; or the last dim glimmer of twilight resting in a more silent gorge ; or the beating breath of the salt sea-winds, flapping the flags and the wet canvas violently, and baffling the crowded shipping ; or sunny memories of the meadows and ruins, rendered each in its appropriate poetry, are but a few of the themes that here engage Turner's sympathy.