lint Irto.
THE TURNERS AT THE NATIONAL GALLERY.
To enter the room in the National Gallery now occupied by the Turner pictures, after looking at the old Italian, Flemish, and Spanish works, is like emerging into the jewelled light of a cathedral nave after groping in the sombre crypt. Upwards of a hundred pro- ductions from that mighty hand form a dazzling blaze of light and colour that bewilders the eye and disables the judgment, and it is only after accustoming himself to the novel aspect of the room that one is at length enabled to consider carefully the treasures it con- tains. Never before has such an opportunity occurred of comparing on so large a scale the works of our great landscape painter with those by masters whose reputation has been acknowledged for ages, and well does Tuner stand the ordeal. In these pictures, marking as they do every gradation of feeling, each period of study and style of execution, we may see the gradual growth and ripening of the painter's mind from the unpretentious little study of "lifoonlight at Millbank," with its wafer-like moon, to the latest aberrations of de- cluing power; from the quiet calm of the "Frosty Morning," to the awful grandeur of the "Ship on Fire," or the " Shipwreck ;" from the time when, working in quiet greys and browns, he painted with more or less reference to some painter who had. preceded him, to that when, giving reins to his imagination, he pro- duced works of the highest ideality and matchless brilliancy of hue, or when, abandoning the ideal, he reproduced his own impressions of nature, invested with his deepest emotions. Through the painter's benevolence we possess, of oil pictures alone, more than a third of the total number ever exhibited by him. Their very number is, in some measure, an inconvenience in their present position, as not more than half can be fairly seen, while, owing to their crowded state, one picture often interferes with its neighbour, more especially when painted in a totally opposite key of colour. In the limits of the present article it would be scarcely possible, even were it altogether necessary, to give any detailed account of these works, or to add any- thing new to what has already been written upon them. The follow- ing random notes have been strung together after a morning's visit to the collection.
"Calais Pier" must be considered one of the best of Turner's earlier pictures, despite the Vandervelde sky with the space of hard blue breaking through its cloudy surface. The sweeping surge of the waves is grandly given. The sea tosses the packet-boat as she enters the harbour, and washes wildly over the jetty where the fishermen sort their fish, while others put out to sea. I strong breeze bellies out the sails of the vessels, and adds to the animation, the hurry, and confusion of the scene. Heavy in touch, and some- what dry in execution, there is, notwithstanding, most masterlike power of hand shown in every part, and those who are unaware of Turner's humorouspowers—which, though seldom exhibited, were none the less genuine—should mark the fisherman's wife handing down to her husband in the boat a bottle of brandy, but which, being only half filled, causes the old salt to shake his fist in anger at his spouse. Another instance of Turner's facetiousness may be men- tioned, en passant, in "The Garreteer's Petition," where a lean poet is at work in his attic, on the walls of which are pasted a plan of Parnassus and a table of fasts.—How wet-looking and how delicately graduated are the flat fish lying about the jetty in this "Calais Pier!' Was it in front of this picture that Turner stood, and, in allusion to the detractions of his rivals, pointing to a fish in the corner, ex- claimed, with a chuckle, "They say that Turner can't colour!" and then turned on his heel ? "The Shipwreck," painted two years later, in addition to its many marvellous qualities as a powerful embodiment of a tragic scene, seems to me to furnish a convincing proof of the falsity of the assertion that Turner could not draw the figure. The group of shipwrecked people huddled together in one of the boats is not only admirably composed, but the expression of emotion, varied from anxiety to fright and the anguish of despair, could scarcely be better given. In the later pictures it must be confessed that the figures are often absurdly wrong, the " Phryne" and the "Bacchus and Ariadne" being great failures in this respect, though in very few instances do they detract from the merits of the work as a whole. People too readily forget that at the distance at which it would be possible to embrace within the circle of vision the extensive scenes which
Turner paints, it would be impossible to see defined lines or lags. The form of each feature in a face can be distinctly traced at
a distance of two yards, but increase that distance to thirty, and the face itself becomes a confused blot of different tones ; the remark will hold good also in the respect of figures. In a uncle figure on the scale of the "Apollo slaying the _Python," Turner's want of anatomical knowledge is felt, because it is A prominent object in the immediate foreground; but this Apollo is a magnificent creation compared with one to be found in the "Apollo and DaplrnV'—a much later work—where a little Ditch-proportioned doll dees duty for the god whose addresses an equally dumpy Daphne persists in rejecting. "The Blacksmith's op" affords a very happy instance of successful figure painting, as well as testifying to the versatile powers of its author. Painted, it is said, in emulation of Wilkie's "Village Politicians," exhibited the previous year at the Academy, it supplies evidence that Turner, though not, as might be expected, so successful as a man who made the human form his chief study, has come out of the trial of skill with no mean honours. There is character in the brawny-limbed blacksmith, who pauses in his work to dispute with the country butcher about the price of iron, and the other figures are fairly proportioned and animated in expres- sion. The still life, the various tools and implements, the fowls, &c., are painted with an unobtrusive truth, very different from what oue finds in many modern pictures in which such objects detract from the figures, and arrogate to themselves priority of attention. Examples of expressive action will be found in the "Death of Nelson," one of the best being a marine who has just received a shot, falling back with outstretched arms and distorted features. As far as con- ception goes, Turner's figures appear always to be right and doing the right thing at the right moment. His great invention, however, is testified as much in his subordinate groups as in the pictures themselves, and it is no exaggeration to say that a figure painter might glean many a subject for his pencil by carefully looking through the incidents embodied in Turner's landscapes, and if proof were wanting of happy fancy in the disposition, or appropriate action in the figures, it might be found, among numerous others, in the boys launching their paper-boats in the "Building of Carthage" (in- dicative of that city's future maritime power), the women searching for plunder by torchlight on the "Field of Waterloo," or in the wreck of the "Orange Merchantman," where fishermen are picking up the salvage, while a boy slyly pockets some of the fruit for his own benefit.
"The Frosty Morning" was one of Turner's favourite pictures, and no one can long look without becoming enamoured of it, or retaining a vivid remembrance of its beauty. We may admire the works painted in the ideal Claude manner, but here is one to love, it is so thoroughly English, and seems so much more characteristic of Turner than his classical works. It is wonderfully simple in its materials. The wintry sun casts a pale glow over the roadsid , at which two men, with a pair-horse cart, are at work; to the left stand a gamekeeper and a girl, the latter carrying a hare ; beyond is a boy sliding, and in the distance appears a stage-coach. It is a wonderful piece of truthful realization—no striving after effect—all is simply, straight- forwardly told. The hard rats of the road, the hoar-frost still spark- ling where the sun-beams have not penetrated, the leafless trees and the calm cloudless sky, capitally convey the impression intended. It is a reminiscence of a scene sketched by Turner en route when travelling by coach in Yorkshire. The horses, it is said, were painted from Turner's "Crop-ear." In perfect contrast to the "Frosty Morning," stands the "Ulysses deriding Polyphemus." Both pictures are sunrises, but in every other respect how totally different. The former represents a scene, the every-day truth of which can. be appreciated by all. In the "Polyphemus," the painter grandly grapples with a most imaginative theme, and soars to the highest flights of pictorial fancy. The colour is wondrous in its varied richness and brilliancy, "innumerable stains and splendid dyes ;" the crimson, angry glare of the morning sky; the golden galleys with their cream-coloured sails; the purple rocks, and the deep blue of the hori- zon; the phosphoresence of the limpid waves, beneath which one can trace the forms of the sea-nymphs urging on the vessel of Ulysses, nothing is wanting to this gorgeous whole, which, in the telling of the story, the effeet of colour, and light and shade, or composition, must be regarded as a masterpiece of poetical painting. Poetical, too, is "The old Temeraire tugged to her last Berth," and though equally fine in conception as the "Polyphemus," the nature of the subject does not admit of such imaginative treatment, yet it is im- bued with strong pathetic feeling. Mr. Ruskin considers this pic- ture, painted in 1839, as the last executed with Turner's entire and perfect power, as the "Polyphemus," painted in 1829, marks the be- ginning of his central and best period of ten years. The same authority alludes to Turner's practice of associating death or ruin with a scarlet sky. "The colour of blood gives the leading tones to the storm clouds in the 'Slave Ship," Polyphemus," Napoleon at St. Helena,' and subdued by softer tones in the 'Old Temeraire.' " It is probable that some idea of intimating the sympathy of in- animate nature with human affairs induced Tamer to blacken the hull and sails of the Oriental steamer in the "Burial of Wilkie." To others I would leave the task of defending Turner's latest works. They may have had a "foundation of truth," and it is just possible that "had his earlier pictures been purchased by the public, he would have avoided eccentricities in his art." Looking at them in the mildest way, it must be said that Turner's last pictures are the experiments of a man trying to paint the impossible—the dreams of an enthusiast—and it cannot be matter of wonder, though it may be for regret, that the public and the critics, ignorant possibly of the painter's former greatness, should have derided these mysterious productions of the failing mind and hand. Compared with earlier works they appear false and meretricious in every respect, from the
florid and often inharmonious colour to the tricky execution and exaggerated effects. After 1844 Turner began to be incom- prehensible. "Rain, Steam, and Speed — The Great Western Railway," marks, perhaps, the utmost limit to which the patience of ordinary connoisseurs will stretch. There is a certain gran- deur about the rainy mottled sky through which a solitary sun- beam finds its way and lights the foliage that flanks the viaduct, over which the train passes. Looking down into the river, we can see a patient fisherman (always a favourite with Turner) sitting in a punt with an umbrella over his head. In front of the train a hare is running, and I have heard the son of the late Mr. Leslie say how, when a little boy, he remembers being taken by his father to the "varnishing days" at the Academy, and seeing Turner, with his nose close to the canvas, working on this very picture. Always kind and attentive to children, Turner explained his picture to the boy and when he had painted the hare, said, " There ! that's speed," and then, as if the motto, "Speed the plough," had just occurred to him, proceeded with a few touches to introduce the plough and team in the field to the right.
The varied range of Turner's powers is strikingly exhibited here-. He touches the beautiful and the terrible, the sad or joyous side of Nature, with equal skill and knowledge. No theme is too simple, none too vast, for him to undertake. He paints now with the simplicity of the child, and now with the aspiring intellect of the man. He can be great in a confined space, or lead the unwearied imagination over miles of endless distance. No painter has expressed light, air, or in- finitude so well as he. His execution is subtle and mysterious, and it is as impossible to divine how certain portions of his pictures are ' painted, as it is to follow with the eye the infinite variety of form and surface in natural scenery. His pictures have the admirable quality of suggestiveness, they are no cold literal transcripts executed with the frightful naivete of the photograph; they breathe the soul, the sen- timent of nature, and. without departinlur truth, speak of the invisible as well as the actual. When Turner commenced the art, it was trammelled with rigorous, but now happily effete, conven- tionalities; the orthodox laws, derived not from nature, but from pictures, were set before the student. Claude and classicality were everything ; the "brown tree" must have its recognized position; grass should resemble in tone the colour of an old Cremona violin, and every picture must have its three lights. Through these and other debasing dogmas, the trath-searchin,g Turner gradually broke, and has left to us, and to those who come after us, the results of his experience in the shape of works which have never been surpassed
in any age or country. DRY aura.
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