MR. STOPFORD BROOKE ON TURNER.• Tins is not a book
which will be of interest to the general reader, but it will be welcomed by those who have a genuine love and admiration of Turner, and who are already in sympathy with Mr. Ruskin, to whose writings Mr. Stopford Brooke acknowledges that he owes chiefly the knowledge and principles which have enabled him to feel the truth and beauty of these drawings. He is proud of trying to follow in the spirit of Mr. Raskin, his object being to tell of the pleasurable thoughts which these drawings have awakened in him, and the things which he seemed to find in them during a com- panionship of many years. This volume has been, to a certain extent, rewritten from notes which were first published with the autotype reproduction of the Liter Sk4diorum,, and which
Beim on the Leber Studioram of P. M. W. Tenser, R.A. By the Rev. atop. ford Brooke, Y.A. London The Autotype Company. London and Manchester Sotheran and Co.
have now been given to the public in this separate form at the request of some of those who possess original plates. Apart from its value as a commentary and ex- planation of Turner's plates, which, it must always be re- membered, constitute its raison d' are (for it is not written to be read straight through), this work may claim some interest from a literary point of view, but more especially from the underlying history of Turner's mind and tone of thought which has been worked out and developed from the drawings, by one who is deeply imbued with his influence. Turner began the Liber, as is well known, in rivalry with the Liber Veritatie of Claude ; but Mr. Brooke deprecates the comparison of the two books. Claude's drawings were slight and harried records of his pictures, and he had nothing to do with the mezzotints, which did not appear till long after his death. Turner's book was made up of carefully drawn original studies intended for the purpose of engraving, and etched on to the copper by himself ; their engraving was carried on under his own eye, and in some cases done by his own hand. He began the series by a plate which is a half imitation of Claude, "The Bridge and Goats ;" but he soon tired of following another mind, and the majority of the plates " are done out of his own heart, and bear his character upon them." As to the method employed :—
"The first thing Turner did was to make a drawing in sepia for the guidance of the engraver. These drawings are in the National Gallery. They are the ghosts of what they were, and are almost in every case, and naturally so, inferior to the prints. The copper was then sent to Turner, who, with few exceptions, etched with the needle the essential lines of the subject, always with a reference in his own mind to the mezzotint which was to be added. When the plate was etched and bitten in, the engraver roughened the whole plate with a multitude of little projecting points of copper made by a special tool. This is the mezzotint, or more properly the bur. All these points catch the ink in printing, and would yield an intense black were they not removed. They are accordingly partially removed with the scraper when lighter darks are required, and the lighter the passage the more the bur is cleared away, till finally, in high lights, it is re- moved altogether, and the plate in these places is burnished. It is plain then that the mezzotint engraver can gradate the light and shade of his plate from absolute black to pure white, or rather from the deepest dark to the highest light,—and no better vehicle could have been chosen for engraving his drawings by an artist who, like Turner, was a master of gradation, and especially careful in develop. ing his whole subject from or towards a dominant light. The engravers were not then left to themselves. Turner had proofs of the plates at various stages of the rubbing-down sent to him, and wrote on them his instructions and advice, following the engraving almost day by day, and sometimes working on the plate with his own hands. A few he mezzotinted and engraved himself, and I have drawn attention to some curious things in these plates."
With regard to the tone of mind that may be traced through the Liber, Mr. Stopford Brooke lays much stress on the contrast between the delight with which Turner dwelt on the story told by Nature, and the one-sided view he often took of the human element he introduced into his drawings. He scarcely ever seemed to feel any but the sterner, ugly, and bitter side of the poverty of the English labourer, and in that way missed completeness of view. To give, as an instance, one example out of many,—in the plate," The Bridge and Cows," we have the dull, naked truth of country life in a district of heavy clay, where the boys are stunted, sickly, and idle, without pleasure even in their play. Yet certainly Turner loved his land, though " often his love was sorrow ;" he pitied the hard labour of the poor ; but he did not attempt to poetise the grim reality, nor had he an eye for It higher type, except, perhaps, when he drew the fisher-lads and sailors of England ; with these he had great sympathy,—he seemed to understand their character, and how their life of con- tinual danger in the changing war and peace of the elements developed a capacity for silent sacrifice, for patient, uncomplaining endurance, together with a pride and joy in their calling, in their ships, and in the overcoming of difficulties. Mr. Brooke especially points out to us that, by the sea-shore, Turner seems to lose the sadness which so much prevails in the Liber Studiorum :—" The fresh wind, the ships, the sailors seem to make him happy, and we feel his pleasure in these things as we look at his drawings of them." He knew and loved all fishing-boats and ships, and thought of them as sailors think of them,—as living beings. This love of sailors and boats showed itself early in life ; his first oil-painting is of men drawing their boats ashore under Rochester Castle in a gale of wind, and his first picture of any importance was a view of fishing-boats scurrying before the wind off the Needles. These pictures were painted when he was about twenty. The publication of the Liber began in 1807, when he was thirty-two years of age, and was carried on at intervals during twelve years, and then it was stopped, for it was at first partially a failure.
There are, again, two other sides of Turner's mind which may be traced in his works,—one side which caused him to draw with the grave joy and truth the stern facts of Nature, the storm, the gigantic masses of rock with the fierce stream roaring round them, the wild break of the waves ; and the other which led him to touch with exquisite love all that was beautiful and tender in Nature,—the grace of the chestnut-trees, the light dancing on the leaves, the calm sunset sky. He felt both aspects of Nature keenly, and with equal intensity. Nothing is greater than his sympathy with the overwhelming power of Nature, except his sympathy with her intense tenderness. Mr. Brooke shows how Turner's moods were various, even as those of Nature herself. For instance, one subject, Norham Castle, in the Liber is in every way differently treated to the same subject in the Rivers of England, though the view is the same, and he only saw Norham once. In each drawing, the time of day, the aspect of Nature and the disposition of the objects, and the sentiment are different. In the Rivers print, the sun is directly behind the castle, and its rays glance through some of the upper windows ; in this drawing there is more life, more movement, more humanity ; but it is commonplace compared to the grave and dignified composition in the Liber. Though Turner has been set down by his bio- graphers as an unbeliever and a sceptic, nothing is absolutely known of his opinions with regard to religion. This is not the place to discuss the question except in so far as his thoughts may be read in his drawings. We may, perhaps, find his feelings towards religion reflected in his representation of an " Interior of a Churih," where the ponderous dullness of the congregation, and the indifference of the clergyman, are curiously contrasted with the humble figures of the old woman and little girl who stand neglected outside the pew. It may be taken as a grim satire on the Church at a period when religious life and vitality seemed to have died out of the nation, leaving behind nothing but cold belief and dull ceremony. " But when he painted Abbey and Church," says Mr. Brooke, " it was the pathetic sadness of the passing away of life and power from religion which affected him, and flowed with his pencil ; it was not the religion itself." We will conclude by one of Mr. Stopford Brooke's illustra- tions to show the completeness of his description (No. xl., " Sunset "):—
" This is a cold autumnal sunset ; the sun is half-veiled by thin vapour, but enough light remains to sparkle on the crests of the waves as they break on the beach. But most of this light in the foreground is due to the reflections from the clouds, and from the pure space of sky above. The sun—a frequent effect in Nature—has thrown back and aside the heavier clouds, and its rays from behind the straight mass of vapour on the horizon strike on their tinder and upper edges, on the wave-like and lighter clouds above, and on the sails and waves below. This suggestion of the sun throwing open the gates of heaven as he passes to his rest, is common with Turner. The composition of the sky is a reversed repetition of the composition of the lines of sea and shore, of boats and waves below. It is this strange arrangement which introduces an element of wildness, even of weirdness, into the impression the picture makes. There has been quiet, chill weather, but the wind has lately risen, and now storm is coming, and the thought of the tempestuous darkness at hand deepens the human anxiety which belongs to this sunset scene. We feel as we look, that all things are vaguely troubled, seeking rest from labour, heating homewards from the treacherous powers of night. Nature herself seems to sympathise with man's desire for shelter, escape, and peace. The sun drops into bis ocean bed. The very wave is tumbling in to finish its life. The seamen drive their fishing-boats to shore. Wife and child run to receive them, and the baby in the mother's arms sees and welcomes its father. Others have beached their boat, and talk and rest beside it. The fisherman with the net is going home. The fishing-boat yet out on the darkening sea increases the impression through contrast, by its loneliness and unquietude. This, then, is one of the few of the Liber Studiorurn which is full of gentle, not tragic, sympathy with simple and kindly humanity. The note is low and sad like the evening, but it is none the less tender ; and perhaps Turner used his anchor to show that all life is anchored best in labour which can return to a well-loved home. Mach might be said of the splendid drawing of the wave on whose crest the boat is being beached. Those who have seen the thing will know its truth. The sails and masts of the lugger seem to spring forward to the shore, and Turner has exaggerated their rake forward on purpose. Throughout the composition, repetition and contrast reign, for peace and movement have both to be suggested. The mother and the running boy are intended to repeat the boat and its forward rush, and to harmonise with them ; but the sharp curve of the anchor towards the right meets in contrast the rise of the logger's bow, and its fixity increases the swiftness of the rush of the lugger. There are few of the Liber Studiorunn in which Turner has made Nature more fully in sympathy with man."
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