CHAPTER XVI

1809: AGED THIRTY-FOUR

HE EXHIBITS THE GLOWING 'RIVER SCENE WITH CATTLE,' AND REFUSES TO SELL 'BLIGH SAND'

Turner was an experimentalist, a seeker. If we did not possess the actual dates when most of his pictures were painted or exhibited, it would be difficult to assign a year to many. Some are a recurrent surprise and joy, standing out from their period, swift interpretations of something seen in nature, evocations of colour or decorative harmony. Consider his 'River Scene with Cattle' exhibited in his studio in 1809. For a long time it hung apart from the other Turners at the Tate Gallery, and it was always with a feeling of exhilaration that I encountered the russet cattle standing by this golden river, golden clouds and golden sand, and the two sailing barges gliding down the wide estuary to the sea. The work is harmonious; nothing in it offends. The children wading and playing on the shore are natural; the cattle seen against the sky 'happen' as beasts do in nature, and the whole picture lies bathed in a rich glow.

Equally pleasant to look upon is 'Bligh Sand,' beautiful still, but what must it have been in its first freshness? It was becoming darker in Thornbury's time, which he ascribes to Turner's use of the dangerous sugar of lead. Although painted in 1809 'Bligh Sand' was not exhibited at the Royal Academy until 1815. Sir George Beaumont wished to buy it from the studio, but Turner, having a grudge against Constable's patron for his lack of early appreciation of his works, refused to sell 'Bligh Sand near Sheerness.' Years later, when the Turner Gallery in Queen Anne Street fell into disorder and untidiness, this beautiful picture was placed in front of a broken window and used as a draught protector. The Turnerian cats were able to squeeze past it as they passed to and from the studio.

'London from Greenwich,' a quiet, meditative Turner, was also painted in 1809, and 'Spithead: Boat's Crew Recovering an Anchor,' also the little panel called 'The Garreteer's Petition.' As nobody ever looks at this stupid little picture, I may remark that it represents a poet working in his attic at midnight, that on the walls of the attic are pasted a plan of Parnassus and a table of fasts, and that the catalogue contained these lines, manifestly Turner's, with the words 'long sought' italicised, pathetically sincere coming from Turner:--

'Aid me, ye powers? O bid my thoughts to roll In quick succession, animate my soul; Descend my Muse, and every thought refine, And finish well my long, my _long sought_ line.'

To this year belongs one of the 'Petworth' Sketch-Books with views of the house and the park where he was to spend so many happy days. At Petworth House and at Farnley Hall he was always welcome, and they are still places of pilgrimage for Turnerians eager to see works which have never left the walls for which they were painted.

Farnley Hall has been called Turner's shrine. Two of the modern rooms are consecrated to him. 'One,' says Sir Walter Armstrong, 'is hung round with drawings; in the other, three great oil-pictures "Dordrecht," "Rembrandt's Daughter," and an unnamed "Sea Piece" decorate the walls, while the tables groan under albums and solander cases fitted with smaller things, and those studies of birds which so moved the soul of Ruskin.'

1809 is also memorable as being the initial year of what Ruskin called his 'Yorkshire period,' which continued with various developments until about 1820. Ruskin, in his beautiful prose, describes the characteristics of the Yorkshire drawings:--

'Of all his drawings, I think those of the Yorkshire series have the most heart in them, the most affectionate, simple, unwearied serious finishings of truth. There is in them little seeking after effect, but a strong love of place; little exhibition of the artist's own powers or peculiarities, but intense appreciation of the smallest local minutiæ.... No alpine cloud could efface, no Italian sunshine outshine the memories of the pleasant days of Rokeby and Bolton; and many a simple promontory dim with southern olive, many a lone cliff that stooped unnoticed over some alien wave, was recorded by him with a love and delicate care that were the shadows of old thoughts and long-lost delights, whose charm yet hung like morning mist above the chanting waves of Wharfe and Greta.'

What was Turner like in appearance and dress about this period? Well, the following description has been preserved:--

'The very moral of a master carpenter, with lobster-red face, twinkling staring grey eyes, white tie, blue coat with brass buttons, crab-shell turned up boots, large fluffy hat and enormous umbrella.'

A somewhat rough and rude description. His manners could be rude and rough, too. A year or two later, Thomson of Duddingston invited him to see his pictures. Turner came, and his companion was eager to hear what the great landscape painter would say about his works. He surveyed them carefully, but the only remark he made was: 'You beat me in frames.'