HARLEY STREET, DEVONSHIRE, HAMMERSMITH, AND TWICKENHAM.
1800 TO 1820.
During the first ten years of this period we have very little
intelligence respecting Turner’s life. He moved from Hand Court, Maiden
Lane, to 64, Harley Street, in 1799 or 1800, and it is not improbable
that he bought the house, as No. 64 and the house next to it in Harley
Street, and the house in Queen Anne Street, all belonged to him at the
time of his death. There was communication between the three houses at
the back, although the corner house fronting both streets did not belong
to him. In 1801, 1802, 1803, and 1804, his address in the Royal Academy
Catalogue is 75, Norton Street, Portland Road; but in 1804 it is again
64, Harley Street. In 1808[29] it is 64, Harley Street, and West End,
Upper Mall, Hammersmith; and this double address is given till 1811,
when it is West End, Upper Mall, Hammersmith, only. In and after 1812 it
is always Queen Anne Street West, with the addition, from 1814 to 1826,
of his house at Twickenham, called Solus Lodge in 1814, and Sandycombe
Lodge from 1815 to 1826. It is remarkable that in the Catalogue of the
British Institution for 1814 his address is given as Harley Street,
Cavendish Square, showing that he had not then given up his house in
this street, and this is good evidence that it belonged to him.
The war which broke out with Bonaparte in 1803,[30] and was not finally
closed till 1815, prevented him from pursuing his studies of Continental
scenery, and he seems during this time to have devoted himself
principally to the composition of his great rival pictures, and the
“Liber Studiorum,” about which we have already written: he stayed
occasionally with his friends, Mr. Fawkes at Farnley, where he studied
the storm for _Hannibal Crossing the Alps_, and Lord Egremont at
Petworth, where he painted _Apuleia and Apuleius_. Almost the only
glimpse that we get of his house in Harley Street, though it is very
doubtful to what period it belongs, was sent to Mr. Thornbury by Mr.
Rose of Jersey:--
“Two ladies, Mrs. R---- and Mrs. H---- once paid him a visit in
Harley Street, an extremely rare (in fact, if not the only)
occasion of such an occurrence, for it must be known he was not
fond of parties prying, as he fancied, into the secrets of his
_ménage_. On sending in their names, after having ascertained that
he was at home, they were politely requested to walk in, and were
shown into a large sitting room without a fire. This was in the
depth of winter; and lying about in various places were several
cats without tails. In a short time our talented friend made his
appearance, asking the ladies if they felt cold. The youngest
replied in the negative; her companion, more curious, wished she
had stated otherwise, as she hoped they might have been shown into
his sanctum or studio. After a little conversation he offered them
wine and biscuits, which they partook of for the novelty, such an
event being almost unprecedented in his house. One of the ladies
bestowing some notice upon the cats, he was induced to remark that
he had seven, and that they came from the Isle of Man.”[31]
Whatever is the proper date of this story, it is to be feared that he
had good reason for not wishing persons to pry into the secrets of his
_ménage_. We ourselves have no wish to pry into those secrets; but the
fact that Turner had for the greater part of his life a home of which he
was ashamed, is sufficient to explain a great deal of his want of
hospitality, his churlishness to visitors, and his confirmed habits of
secrecy and seclusion.
There is no doubt that he habitually lived with a mistress. Hannah
Danby, who entered his service, a girl of sixteen, in the year 1801, and
was his housekeeper in Queen Anne Street at his death, is generally
considered to have been one; and Sophia Caroline Booth, with whom he
spent his last years in an obscure lodging in Chelsea, another. There
are many who have lived more immoral lives, and have done more harm to
others by their immorality; but he chose a kind of illegal connection
which was particularly destructive to himself. He made his home the
scene of his irregularities, and, by entering into ultimate relations
with uneducated women, cut himself off from healthy social influences
which would have given daily employment to his naturally warm heart, and
prevented him from growing into a selfish, solitary man. Not to be able
to enjoy habitually the society of pure educated women, not to be able
to welcome your friend to your hearth, could not have been good for a
man’s character, or his art, or his intellect.
His uninterrupted privacy possibly enabled him to produce more, and to
develop his genius farther in one direction; but we could have well
spared many of his pictures for a few works graced with a wider culture
and a healthier sentiment. He could paint, and paint, perhaps, better
for his isolation--
“The light that never was on sea or land,
The consecration and the Poet’s dream.”
But it would have been better for him, and, we think, for his art also,
if he could have said:--
“Farewell, farewell, the heart that lives alone
Housed in a dream, at distance from the kind!
Such happiness, wherever it be known,
Is to be pitied; for ’tis surely blind.”[32]
It was not from any scorn of the conventions of society that he
disregarded them, for there is no trace of any feeling of this sort in
his pictures or his reported conversations, and in his will he required
that the “Poor and Decayed Male Artists,” for whom he intended to found
a charitable institution (“Turner’s Gift”), should be “of _lawful
issue_.” One reason why he never married may have been his shyness and
consciousness of his want of address and personal attraction. Mr. Cyrus
Redding, from whom we have one of the brightest and best glimpses of
Turner as a man, says:--
“He was aware that he could not hope to gain credit in the world
out of his profession. I believe that his own ordinary person was,
in his clear-mindedness, somewhat considered in estimating his
career in life. He was once at a party where there were several
beautiful women. One of them struck him much with her charms and
captivating appearance; and he said to a friend, in a moment of
unguarded admiration, ‘If she would marry me, I would give her a
hundred thousand.’”
This, and the increasing absorption in his art of all of himself that
could be so absorbed; his desire to economize both his time and his
money; his innate hatred of interference with his liberty; his aversion
from undertaking any obligation, the consequences of which he could not
calculate--all tended to keep him from matrimony, and to make him
content with the most unromantic amours.
That he in 1811 or thereabouts could be hospitable and a good companion
away from home, is shown by Mr. Redding in his pleasant volume, from
which we have just quoted. He met Turner on what appears to have been
his first visit to the county to which his family belonged--Devonshire.
He met him first, Mr. Redding thinks, at the house of Mr. Collier (the
father of Sir Robert Collier), an eminent merchant of Plymouth, and
accompanied him on many excursions. On one of these Turner actually gave
a picnic “in excellent taste” at a seat on the summit of the hill,
overlooking the Sound and Cawsand Bay.
“Cold meats, shell fish, and good wines were provided on that
delightful and unrivalled spot. Our host was agreeable, but terse,
blunt, and almost epigrammatic at times. Never given to waste his
words, nor remarkably choice in their arrangement, they were always
in their right place, and admirably effective.”[33]
This last sentence sounds somewhat paradoxical, but for that reason is
probably all the more accurately descriptive of Turner’s art in words.
Further on, when defending the great painter, we get a portrait of him
as a “plain figure” with “somewhat bandy legs,” and “dingy complexion.”
On another excursion, Redding spent a night at a small country inn with
Turner, about three miles from Tavistock, as the artist had a great
desire to see the country round at sunrise. The rest of the party, Mr.
Collier and two friends, who had spent the day with them on the shores
of the Tamar with a scanty supply of provisions, preferred to pass the
night at Tavistock.
“Turner was content with bread and cheese and beer, tolerably good,
for dinner and supper in one. I contrived to feast somewhat less
simply on bacon and eggs, through an afterthought inspiration. In
the little sanded room we conversed by the light of an attenuated
candle, and some aid from the moon, until nearly midnight, when
Turner laid his head upon the table, and was soon sound asleep. I
placed two or three chairs in a line, and followed his example at
full recumbency. In this way three or four hours’ rest were (_sic_)
obtained, and we were both fresh enough to go out, as soon as the
sun was up, to explore the scenery in the neighbourhood, and get a
humble breakfast, before our friends rejoined us from Tavistock. It
was in that early morning Turner made a sketch of the picture
(_Crossing the Brook_)to which I have alluded, and which he invited
me to his gallery to see.”
Another of these excursions was to Burr or Borough Island, in Bigbury
Bay, “To eat hot lobsters fresh from the sea.”
“The morning was squally, and the sea rolled boisterously into the
Sound. As we ran out, the sea continued to rise, and off Stake’s
point became stormy. Our Dutch boat rode bravely over the furrows,
which in that low part of the Channel roll grandly in unbroken
ridges from the Atlantic.”
[Illustration: IVY BRIDGE.
_Water-colour in National Gallery._]
Two of the party were ill; one, an officer in the army, wanted to throw
himself overboard, and they “were obliged to keep him down among the
rusty iron ballast, with a spar across him.”
“Turner was all the while quiet, watching the troubled scene, and
it was not unworthy his notice. The island, the solitary hut upon
it, the bay in the bight of which it lay, and the long gloomy Bolt
Head to sea-ward, against which the waves broke with fury, seemed
to absorb the entire notice of the artist, who scarcely spoke a
syllable. While the fish were getting ready, Turner mounted nearly
to the highest point of the island rock, _and seemed writing rather
than drawing_. The wind was almost too violent for either purpose;
what he particularly noted he did not say.”
These reminiscences of Mr. Redding contain the most graphic picture of
Turner we possess. His carelessness of comfort, his devotion to his art,
his power of continuous observation in despite of tumult and discomfort,
his love of the sun and the sea, his habit of sketching from a high
point of view, his ability to take “pictorial memoranda” in a violent
wind, are all striking and essential peculiarities.
It is interesting to learn also from Mr. Redding, that “early in the
morning before the rest were up, Turner and myself walked to Dodbrooke,
hard by the town, to see the house that had belonged to Dr. Walcot
(_sic_), Peter Pindar, and where he was born. Walcot sold it, and there
had been a house erected there since; of this the artist took a sketch.”
Turner probably appreciated Peter’s “Advice to Landscape Painters.”
One piece of Turner’s conversation is also worthy of record, if only on
account of its rarity.
“He was looking at a seventy-four gun ship, which lay in the shadow
under Saltash. The ship seemed one dark mass.
“‘I told you that would be the effect,’ said Turner, referring to
some previous conversation. ‘Now, as you observe, it is all shade.’
“‘Yes, I perceive it; and yet the ports are there.’
“‘We can only take what is visible--no matter what may be there.
There are people in the ship; we don’t see them through the
planks.’”
This reads like a speech of Dr. Johnson.
We have another account of this same visit to Devonshire from Sir
Charles Eastlake, which bears testimony to the hospitality which he
received. Miss Pearce, an aunt of Sir Charles, appears to have been his
hostess, and her cottage at Calstock the centre of his excursions. A
landscape painter, Mr. Ambrose Johns, of great merit, according to Sir
Charles, fitted up a small portable painting box, which was of much use
to Turner in affording him ready appliances for sketching in oil.
“Turner seemed pleased when the rapidity with which these sketches
were done was talked of; for departing from his habitual reserve in
the instance of his pencil sketches, he made no difficulty in
showing them. On one occasion, when, on his return after a
sketching ramble to a country residence belonging to my father,
near Plympton, the day’s work was shown, he himself remarked that
one of the sketches (and perhaps the best) was done in less than
half an hour.... On my inquiring what had become of these sketches,
Turner replied that they were worthless, in consequence, as he
supposed, of some defects in the preparation of the paper; all the
grey tints, he observed, had nearly disappeared. Although I did not
implicitly rely on that statement, I do not remember to have seen
any of them afterwards.”[34]
Mr. Johns’s devotion was not rewarded till long afterwards, when the
great painter sent him a small oil sketch in a letter. Mr. Redding
obtained at the time a rough sketch, and these seem to have been the
only returns he made for the kindness that was shown to him at Plymouth,
though many years afterwards he spoke to Mr. Redding “of the reception
he met with on this tour, in a strain that exhibited his possession of a
mind not unsusceptible or forgetful of kindness.”
The date of this tour is given by Mr. Redding as probably 1811, and by
Eastlake 1813 or 1814. The principal pictorial results of it were
_Crossing the Brook_ (exhibited in 1815), and various drawings for
Cooke’s _Southern Coast_, which commenced in 1814. It seems probable
that his engagement on this work determined his visit to Cornwall and
Devonshire, but this is uncertain, as is also whether he paid more than
one visit to the locality.
This tour is also interesting from its being the only occasion on which
Turner is known to have visited his kinsfolk. We are enabled to state on
the authority of one of his family that he went to Barnstaple and called
upon his relations there, and a gentleman, late of the Chancery Bar, has
kindly supplied us with the following extract of a memorandum made by
him in 1853, from facts sworn to in suits instituted to administer
Turner’s estate.
“Price Turner, an uncle of the painter’s, having some idea of
educating his son, Thomas Price Turner (now (1853) living at North
Street, in the parish of St. Kerrian, Exeter, Professor of Music)
as a painter, T. P. T. made, at the request of William Turner, the
great artist’s father, two drawings as specimens of his ability,
one a view of the city of Exeter, taken from the south side, and
the other a view of Rougemont Castle, and sent them by Wm. Turner
to his son. Shortly after, he (T. P. T.) received a number of water
colour drawings, sketches, &c. Some of these were afterwards sent
for again, one of which, a water colour view of Redcliffe Church,
Bristol, Thomas Price Turner previously copied, which copy,
together with the residue of Turner’s drawings, are still in his
cousin’s possession.
“J. M. W. Turner called at Price Turner’s house at Exeter about
forty years ago (about 1813), and, saying that he called at his
father’s request, had a conversation with Price Turner and his son
and daughter. Thomas Price Turner went to London in 1834 to attend
the Royal Musical Festival in commemoration of Handel, in which he
was engaged as a chorus singer. He called three times on his
cousin, and the third time saw him, but though he (J. M. W. T.)
immediately recognized him, the painter gave him a cool reception,
never so much as asking him to sit down.”
It is probable that Turner’s father removed with him to Harley Street in
1800. The powder tax of 1795 is said to have destroyed his trade, and he
lived with his son till he died in 1830. He used to strain his son’s
canvasses and varnish his pictures, “which made Turner say that his
father began and finished his pictures for him.” As early as 1809,
Turner “was in the habit of privately exhibiting such pictures as he did
not sell, and the small accumulation he had at Harley Street in 1809 was
already dignified with the name of the “Turner Gallery.”[35] This
gallery Turner’s father attended to, showing in visitors &c., and when
they stayed at Twickenham he came up to town every morning to open it.
Thornbury says that the cost of this weighed upon his spirits until he
made friends with a market-gardener, who for a glass of gin a-day,
brought him up in his cart on the top of the vegetables. This is said to
have been after Turner removed from Harley Street, and was very well off
if not rich, for he had built his house in Queen Anne Street and his
lodge at Twickenham,[36] both of which belonged to him, as well as the
land at Twickenham, and (probably) the house in Harley Street. Turner’s
father made great exertions to add to his son’s estate at Sandycombe, by
running out little earthworks in the road and then fencing them round.
At one time there was a regular row of these fortifications, which used
to be called “Turner’s Cribs.” One day, however, they were ruthlessly
swept away by some local authority. If, however, both father and son
were very “saving” and eccentric in their ways, they were devoted to
one another from the beginning to the end, to an extent very touching
and beautiful, however strange in its manifestation.
Of Turner’s life at West End, Upper Mall, Hammersmith, we have only the
following glimpse in a communication to Thornbury by “a friend.”
“The garden, which ran down to the river, terminated in a
summer-house; and here, out in the open air, were painted some of
his best pictures. It was there that my father, who then resided at
Kew, became first acquainted with him; and expressing his surprise
that Turner could paint under such circumstances, he remarked that
lights and room were absurdities, and that a picture could be
painted anywhere. His eyes were remarkably strong. He would throw
down his water-colour drawings on the floor of the summer-house,
requesting my father not to touch them, as he could see them there,
and they would be drying at the same time.”
It may have been when at Hammersmith that he became acquainted with Mr.
Trimmer, for in a letter to Mr. Wyatt of Oxford respecting two pictures
of that city, which is dated “West End, Upper Mall, Hammersmith, Feb. 4,
1810,” he says, “Pray tell me likewise of a gentleman of the name of
Trimmer, who has written to you to be a subscriber for the print.” This
gentleman was the Rev. Henry Scott Trimmer, Vicar of Heston, who was one
of Turner’s best and most intimate friends till his death. It is said
that he first went to Hammersmith to be near De Loutherbourg, and it is
probable that one of his reasons for building on his free--hold at
Twickenham was to be nearer Mr. Trimmer. De Loutherbourg died in 1812.
Sandycombe Lodge, first called Solus Lodge, is on the road from
Twickenham to Isleworth, and is built on low lying ground and damp. The
original structure has been added to, but the additions being built of
brick, it is easy to see how it looked in Turner’s time--a small
semi-Italian villa covered with plaster and decorated with iron
balustrades and steps. It is within walking distance (4 miles) of
Heston. We are able by the kindness of Mr. F. E. Trimmer, the youngest
son of Turner’s friend, to correct some false impressions conveyed by
Thornbury’s garbled account of what he was told by the eldest son.
The Rev. Henry Scott Trimmer, the son of the celebrated Mrs. Trimmer,
and father of the Rev. Henry Syer Trimmer, who gave Thornbury his
information, was about the same age as Turner, and very much interested
in art. As an amateur painter he attained considerable skill, having a
wonderful faculty for catching the manner of other artists. His great
knowledge of pictures, and his continual experiments in the way of
mediums, colours, and devices for obtaining effects, made his
acquaintance specially interesting and valuable to Turner, and Turner’s
to him. No better proof of his ability can be found than the two
following stories:--
There is a picture at Heston before which Turner would frequently stand
studying. It is a sea-piece with the sun behind a mist, and with a
golden hazy effect not unlike Turner’s famous _Sun rising in a Mist_,
but the sea washes up to the frame. One day Turner said to Mr. Trimmer,
“I like that picture; there’s a good deal in it. Where did you get it?”
(Or words to this effect.) “I painted it,” was the reply; upon which the
artist turned away without a word, and never looked at the picture
again.
The true story of the picture, supposed to be by Sir Joshua Reynolds, to
which Mr. Trimmer added a background, is this.[37] He purchased it in an
unfinished condition of a dealer in Holborn, and finished it himself,
and it remained in his possession till his death, when his son (Mr. F.
E. Trimmer), knowing its history, kept it out of the sale at Christie’s
of his father’s fine collection, and sold it, among other less valuable
and genuine productions, at Heston. The dealer who bought it (for £6)
thought he had made a great catch, and inquired of Mr. Trimmer’s son the
history of the picture, which he considered a splendid Sir Joshua,
speaking especially of the background as being a proof of its
authenticity. When Mr. Trimmer told him that his father had bought it in
his own shop and had finished it himself, he would not believe it for a
long time.
Of the other stories of Turner’s connection with Heston, and of his
power to assist others in the composition of their pictures, the
following is perhaps the most interesting:--[38]
Once when Howard (R.A.) was staying at the vicarage, painting a portrait
of Mr. Trimmer’s second son, the Rev. Barrington James Trimmer, Turner
was always finding fault with the work in progress. It was a full-size
and full-length portrait of a boy of three years old, dressed in a white
frock and red morocco shoes. One day Howard, annoyed at Turner’s
frequent objections, told him that he had better do it himself, on which
Turner said, “This is what I should do,” and taking up the cat he
wrapped its body in his red pocket handkerchief, and put it under the
boy’s arm. The effect of this, as may still be seen in the picture at
the house of Mr. Trimmer’s son at Heston, was excellent. The cat gave an
interest to the figure which it wanted, the red morocco shoes were no
longer isolated patches of bright colour at the bottom of the picture,
the blank expanse of white frock was varied and lightened up by the red
handkerchief and pussy’s tabby face, and the work, which was on the
brink of failure, was a decided success. Parts of the cat, handkerchief,
and landscape were put in by Turner.
Sketching with oils on a large canvas in a boat, driving out on little
sketching excursions in his gig with his ill-tempered nag Crop Ear, said
to have been immortalized in his picture of the _Frosty Morning_ (which
was, however, painted before he went to Twickenham), fishing for trout
in the Old Brent, or for roach in the Thames, with Mr. Trimmer’s sons,
digging his pond in his garden and planting it round with weeping
willows and alders, the picture of Turner’s life at Twickenham is a
pleasant and healthy one. At Heston he drew his _Interior of a Church_
for the “Liber,” and actually gave away two of his drawings to Mrs.
Trimmer, one of a Gainsborough, which they had seen together on an
excursion to Osterley House, and one of a woman gathering watercresses,
whom they had met on their way. But these gifts were asked for by the
lady, and Turner would not let them go without making _replicas_. He
once stood with a long rod two whole days in a pouring rain under an
umbrella fishing in a small pond in the vicarage garden, without even a
nibble.
In connection with the Trimmers we get other instances of his rare and
bare hospitality, which showed that he never altered his manner of
living after he left Maiden Lane. We must refer the reader to Mr.
Thornbury’s life for the remainder of these varied, interesting, and on
the whole pleasant reminiscences.
Space, however, we must spare for a letter, very incorrectly given by
Thornbury, the only record of his second attachment, the object of
which was the sister of the Rev. H. Scott Trimmer, who was at that time
being courted by her future husband:--
“_Tuesday. Aug. 1. 1815._
“QUEEN ANNE ST.
“MY DEAR SIR,
“I lament that all hope of the pleasure of seeing you or getting to
Heston--must for the present wholly vanish. My father told me on
Saturday last when I was as usual compelled to return to town the
same day, that you and Mrs. Trimmer would leave Heston for Suffolk
as tomorrow Wednesday, in the first place, I am glad to hear that
her health is so far established as to be equal to the journey, and
believe me your utmost hope, for her benefitting by the sea air
being fully realized will give me great pleasure to hear, and the
earlier the better.
“After next Tuesday--if you have a moments time to spare, a line
will reach me at Farnley Hall, near Otley Yorkshire, and for some
time, as Mr. Fawkes talks of keeping me in the north by a trip to
the Lakes &c. until November therefore I suspect I am not to see
Sandycombe. Sandycombe sounds just now in my ears as an act of
folly, when I reflect how little I have been able to be there this
year, and less chance (perhaps) for the next in looking forward to
a Continental excursion, & poor Daddy seems as much plagued with
weeds as I am with disapointments, that if Miss ---- would but wave
bashfulness, or--in other words--make an offer instead of expecting
one--the same might change occupiers--but not to teaze you further,
allow with most sincere respects to Mrs. Trimmer and family, to
consider myself
“Your most truly (or sincerely) obliged
“J. M. TURNER.”
But for the assurance of the present Mr. Trimmer, of Heston, that this
attachment of Turner to Miss Trimmer was undoubted, and that this letter
has always been considered in the family as a declaration thereof, we
should have thought that the offer he wanted was one for Sandycombe
Lodge and not for his hand. It is, however, past doubt that Turner was
violently smitten, and though forty years old, felt it much.
The above letter was the only one known to have been written by Turner
to his friend the Vicar of Heston, and it is quite untrue, as asserted
by Thornbury, that the Vicar’s letters were burnt in sackfuls by his
son. His large correspondence was patiently gone through--a task which
took some years. Thornbury was probably thinking of the destruction of
the celebrated Mrs. Trimmer’s correspondence by her daughter, in which
it is true that sackfuls of interesting letters perished.
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