Turner's Golden Visions

by C. Lewis Hind

Plate XLII. Lake of Brienz. Water colour (about 1843) Victoria and Albert Museum

There was the railed-in roof, crowning the 'Cremorne Cottage,' that in Turner's time had green sward to the edge of the river: the house with three windows only, one in the basement, and one each on the first and second floors. In the room on the second floor, where he painted his last four pictures, he died. I remembered what I had read of the talk of the undertaker's men about the shabbiness of the place, and the narrowness of the staircase, so circumscribed, that to carry the coffin up was impossible: they were obliged to convey the body down to the coffin.

Then my thoughts turned to Turner the artist, the poet in paint, and I recalled what his great contemporary, Constable, had said of him: that one of Turner's early pictures, 'a canal with numerous boats making thousands of beautiful shapes,' was 'the most complete work of genius' he had ever seen; that 'Turner's light, whether it emanates from sun or moon, is exquisite'; that 'he seems to paint with tinted steam, so evanescent and so airy'; and then I repeated the passage about the golden visions glorious and beautiful, only visions, but pictures to live and die with.

So I mused, turning from that sad little house, now so cheerful, to gaze upon the Thames beloved by Turner. He was born near the river; he chose his rural retreats at Hammersmith and Twickenham because they were by the banks; and Wapping was the scene of his later jaunts. Almost his first oil picture, 'Moonlight at Millbank,' was painted by the riverside; one of his earliest drawings was 'The Archbishop's Palace at Lambeth.' I rarely pass the wharves south of the Houses of Parliament without seeing him, as in a vision, squatting on his heels, and gazing for half an hour at a time at the ripples. The magnificent new home of his pictures is by the Thames at Millbank, and his last journey but one was from the Thames: his last journey was to the crypt of St. Paul's on the hill above the river: there he was rendered to the mould:—

'Under the cross of gold
That shines over city and river,
There he shall rest for ever
Among the wise and the bold.'

There, in the crypt, he was buried as he desired, by the side of Sir Joshua Reynolds, and his funeral, as he desired and stipulated in his will, cost one thousand pounds.

When I returned home from musing before the Turner Cottage, I re-read the story of the last years of his life, how his hiding-place was discovered, and so on to the end, and after. The true facts were revealed through the pertinacity of John Pye the engraver, who 'left certain memoranda of events connected with "Admiral Booth's" tenancy of the Cremorne Cottage, and death under its roof, which are of extraordinary interest.' Pye's memoranda were summarised by Sir Walter Armstrong in his volume on Turner, partly from a copy made by the late Sir Frederic Burton, and partly from information supplied to Sir Walter by Mr. J. L. Roget, through whose hands the whole of Pye's manuscripts passed.

But first a few words of connecting events before Turner's hiding-place was discovered. His last appearance in public seems to have been at the private view of the Royal Academy in 1851: 'he was shaky; he was feeble; he was no longer the sturdy, dogged, strange being.' After that appearance, as he had ceased to attend the council meetings, David Roberts wrote saying how sorry his brother painters were not to see him, trusting that if he were ill, they would be allowed to visit him, and promising, that if he desired it, the secret of his dwelling-place should not be disclosed. Turner made no answer to the letter, but two weeks later he visited Roberts's studio in Fitzroy Square looking 'sadly broken and ailing.' Turner was much affected by the letter he had received, and said to Roberts: 'You must not ask me; but whenever I come to town I will always come to see you.' 'I tried to cheer him up,' says Roberts, 'but he laid his hand upon his heart and replied, "No, no! There is something here which is all wrong." Roberts noticed that his small eyes were as brilliant as those of a child, eyes which some called grey and some blue. Probably they were grey-blue.