Return to J. M. W. Turner
About 1800, shipwreck imagery figured prominently in both art and literature, often serving as a metaphor for human vulnerability before the forces of nature. With this painting, Turner, whose early reputation was made largely through marine pictures, was likely recalling the recent sinking of the Earl of Abergavenny off the coast of Weymouth in 1805. The painting's topicality, then, might have led to Turner's decision to have it engraved—his first oil to be reproduced in this fashion.
Turner's biblical subject, the death of all first-born sons in Egypt as punishment for the enslavement of the Israelites, represents his essay into the Sublime mode of historical landscape, as embodied in the work of Nicolas Poussin (1594–1665). An engraving of this composition later served to illustrate the category of "Historical Sublime" in Turner's Liber Studiorum (1807–19), a compendium of landscape imagery.
In this ambitious work, ancient and modern history converge in the context of the Sublime landscape. Turner depicted the Carthaginian general Hannibal and his army in a skirmish with local tribesmen in 218 B.C., as recorded by Livy. This image of Hannibal's Alpine crossing would have resonated in the context of recent events, as Napoleon had crossed the Alps when he invaded Italy in 1800; when the painting was exhibited in 1812, England was at war with Napoleonic France. Critics praised the work's naturalism as well as its intellectual underpinning: "The moral and physical elements are here in powerful unison blended by a most masterly hand, awakening emotions of awe and grandeur."
This painting commemorates the death of Lord Nelson on the deck of his flagship HMS Victory, during the Battle of Trafalgar on October 21, 1805. Nelson's body lies to the left of center, and the smoking gun of the French sniper is visible in the rigging at the upper right. The work is based on sketches that Turner made on board Nelson's ship, which returned with the admiral's body to England in December 1805. Critics praised the originality of Turner's depiction of the naval battle, which secured Britain's dominance of the seas for the remainder of the Napoleonic Wars: "Mr. Turner f has detailed the death of his hero, while he has suggested the whole of a great naval victory, which we believe has never before been successfully accomplished, if it has been before attempted, in a single picture."
Turner's largest painting, this work was commissioned by King George IV about eighteen years after the event it depicts—the British defeat under Admiral Nelson of a combined French and Spanish fleet at the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805. The conflation of different moments in the battle—the peak of the fighting alongside the sinking of the French ship Redoutable, which happened the next day—was controversial. A captain who witnessed Nelson's death aboard the HMS Victory, shown at the center of the composition, found Turner's painting to be "more like a street scene than a battle."
The defeat of Napoleon by Allied armies at Waterloo on June 18, 1815, ended more than two decades of conflict. Turner, who visited the battle site in 1817, imagines its bloody aftermath in this image, inspired by a passage on Waterloo from Byron's Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (1812–18) that concludes, "Friend, foe, in one red burial blent!" The painting elicited a mixed response from critics when it was shown at the Royal Academy in 1818: one reviewer compared the scene to "the representation of a drunken hubbub on illumination night" while another praised it as "a terrific representation of the effects of war."
Turner visited Raby Castle in autumn 1817, having received a commission from the third Earl of Darlington to paint a view of his country home. He based this painting on one of his sketches from this visit. The work was not well received by the critics when Turner exhibited it at the Royal Academy the following year along with The Field of Waterloo—"the still more detestable fox hunting picture, which we consider a disgrace to his talents," wrote one. X-radiographs of this painting reveal that the foreground was dominated by a large fox-hunting scene, which Turner painted over at the earl's request.
Turner repeatedly drew on the history of the ancient state of Carthage, in North Africa, for pictorial motifs. This work, a pendant to Dido Building Carthage; or, the Rise of the Carthaginian Empire (National Gallery, London), depicts an episode from the Punic Wars in which the Carthaginians bid farewell to their sons as the departing Roman fleet carries them into slavery. The conflict between Rome and Carthage would have resonated in Turner's day in the context of the struggle between England and France during the Napoleonic Wars. The compositional dominance of the sun reflects Turner's emulation of the harbor scenes of Claude Lorrain (ca. 1604–1682).
Turner had sketched the Bay of Baie, west of Naples, during his 1819 tour of Italy. This painting, though, represents an idealized view of the site, owing more to the landscapes of Claude Lorrain than to nature as directly observed—a fact that was not lost on Turner's contemporaries. When the painting was first exhibited in 1823, Turner's friend the artist George Jones (1786–1869) playfully wrote on the frame, SPLENDIDE MENDAX ("splendid lie")—allegedly, Turner never removed it.
Turner painted two complementary views of the estate of William Moffatt (ca. 1754–1831) at Mortlake, west of London. One, exhibited in 1826, looks downriver toward Moffatt's Neoclassical residence; the painting shown here, exhibited in 1827, is based on a vantage point from within the house, looking in the opposite direction toward Kew. Both works share a yellow tonality, which prompted a contemporary critic to suggest that Turner was "desperately afflicted" with "what we may call a yellow fever." The black dog, silhouetted on the terrace, was painted on a sheet of paper that had been affixed to the canvas—an intervention variously ascribed to Turner and to the artist Edwin Landseer, who was said to have acted during Turner's absence on Varnishing Day.
In this work, begun in Rome in 1828, Turner returns to the theme of Carthage. Here, he recounts the fate of Marcus Atilius Regulus (d. 250 B.C.), the Roman general whose eyelids were cut off by his captors before he was exposed to the blinding rays of the sun (Regulus is the man in white in the lower right corner). Turner emphasized the narrative significance of light while reworking the canvas on the eve of the opening of the 1837 British Institution exhibition. A witness described its transformation: "The picture gradually became wonderfully effective, just the effect of brilliant sunshine absorbing everything and throwing a misty haze over every object. Standing sideways of the canvas, I saw that the sun was a lump of white standing out like the boss of a shield."
John Ruskin, Turner's great champion, called this work "the central picture in Turner's career." Turner based this image on Alexander Pope's translation of Homer's Odyssey; his portrayal of the one-eyed Cyclops Polyphemus alludes to Pope's description of the giant as "the lone mountain's monstrous growth." Beyond its narrative content, the painting reveals Turner's preoccupation with light—from the smoking glow of the volcanic fire to the marine phosphorescence at the prow of Ulysses' ship and the celestial light of the sun, as symbolized by Apollo's chariot. Turner's critics, though, found his use of color excessive—"colouring run mad," complained one—though Ruskin thought the sky "beyond comparison the finest that exists in Turner's oil-paintings."
Crichton Castle, begun in the late fourteenth century, inspired the setting of Sir Walter Scott's poem Marmion (1808). This watercolor is one of ten that Turner produced to illustrate Scott's Provincial Antiquities of Scotland (1818–26); the watercolor was published as an engraving in 1819. Turner executed two preparatory studies for this watercolor, one of which is displayed in the exhibition.
This view of the Dart River, in southwestern England, is based on sketches that Turner made during his travels in this region in 1811 and 1813. It served as the basis for a line engraving published in the first installment of the series Picturesque Views in England and Wales (1827–38).
The industrial city of Newcastle was the center of Britain's coal trade in the nineteenth century. Turner elevates this image of its commercial wharf to the realm of history painting by modeling his composition on that of a Claudian seaport. His nocturnal light effects struck one contemporary critic as "neither night nor day." He painted this scene as a pendant to Venice: The Dogana and San Giorgio Maggiore (on view in the exhibition); the pair has been read as a commentary on the ascendancy of Britain and the corresponding decline of Venice.
Turner included subtle references to the city's glorious past in his scenes of modern Venice. He also deliberately evoked artistic tradition, especially Canaletto's views of Venice in the eighteenth century, which appealed to British collectors. On the whole, critics responded favorably to his Venetian pictures. When this painting was sold in 1860, an effort was made to purchase it for the Louvre, which did not acquire its first oil by Turner until 1967.
Following its rediscovery in 1772 by Sir Joseph Banks (1744–1820), Fingal's Cave, on the remote island of Staffa, became a pilgrimage destination for Romantic tourists. This geological curiosity featured in Sir Walter Scott's 1815 poem The Lord of the Isles and inspired Felix Mendelssohn's Hebridean overture of 1830. This canvas records Turner's journey via steamboat to this island off the western coast of Scotland; the artist recalled: "The sun getting towards the horizon, burst through the rain cloud, angry, and for wind."Staffa, Fingal's Cave was the first painting by Turner to enter an American collection, though its owner, New Yorker James Lenox (1800–1880), initially was dismayed by the "indistinctness" of the artist's style.
This unfinished canvas, which Turner never exhibited, has recently been convincingly identified as Turner's response to the destruction of the female convict ship Amphitrite off the coast of France in 1833, which resulted in the deaths of more than one hundred women and children. The topicality of Turner's subject recalls Géricault's Raft of the Medusa, which similarly records a contemporary atrocity. Turner likely saw Géricault's painting in London, where its exhibition in 1820 created a sensation.
This work is the first of two oils that Turner painted of the catastrophic fire that destroyed the Houses of Parliament on the night of October 16, 1834. Although Turner witnessed the event and filled two sketchbooks in response, he possibly based this composition on the account published in the Times the following day: "The light reflected from the flames of the fire f and every place in the neighborhood was visible." This description might have influenced Turner's rendering of the sky, which prompted the critics' complaint that it was too light a blue for a nocturnal scene. A fellow artist described the picture as "a mere dab of several colours," which Turner, working almost entirely with a palette knife, transformed over the course of a morning on one of the Varnishing Days at the British Institution, where it was first exhibited in 1835.
In 1842 Turner exhibited this painting at the Royal Academy as a pendant to War. The Exile and the Rock Limpet (Tate, London), which shows Napoleon in captivity. Critics scorned the pair as "two round blotches of rouge et noire"—the latter referring to this canvas, which commemorates the burial off Gibraltar of Turner's friend and occasional rival the Scottish painter Sir David Wilkie (1785–1841). Although the critic John Ruskin would regret the "funereal and unnatural blackness" of the ship's sails, Turner reportedly expressed his desire "to make them blacker," attesting to the expressive role of color.
John Ruskin proclaimed this work to be "one of the very grandest statements of sea-motion, mist and light, that has ever been put on canvas, even by Turner." Turner's enigmatic title, which confers a documentary quality on the painting, has led scholars to search for a steamboat called Ariel and to consider whether the artist could have witnessed such a storm, as he claims. Turner, stung by the criticism the work received at the 1842 Royal Academy exhibition, allegedly responded, "I did not paint it to be understood, but I wished to show what such a scene was like."
Following Turner's 1839 visit to the newly independent Grand Duchy of Luxembourg, he made thirty pages of sketches that resulted in a series of about twenty gouaches on blue paper. Turner may have recorded this view of the skyline, dominated by the Citadel of the Holy Spirit, with an eye toward future commissions.
Turner visited the Swiss village of Arth, near Lucerne, in the summers of 1841 and 1842. The pencil outlines in this study likely were made on site, while the watercolor was applied later. Turner may have conceived this view as a pendant to Goldau, its cool tonality contrasting with the vivid red hues of the sky in that image.
This work belongs to a set of six Swiss views from 1843. A comparison with its preliminary study (see previous image) reveals greater emphasis on the shadows, which Turner consolidated with tiny flecks of his brush. The critic John Ruskin long coveted this work, which he eventually acquired from its original owner, the Scotsman Munro of Novar (1797–1864), who found it "too blue."
The boulders in the foreground and the vivid hues of the sky, whose "scarlet" clouds symbolized destruction, according to John Ruskin, allude to the landslide that devastated the Swiss village of Goldau in 1806. This watercolor is one of seven that Ruskin and his father commissioned from Turner between 1842 and 1845. Assessing Turner's late Swiss and German watercolors, Ruskin considered this work "on the whole the mightiest drawing of his final time."
This work has been associated with Turner's whaling scenes of about 1845–46. The putative sea monsters of its title, which is a twentieth-century invention, are likely a stylized amalgam of two or three fish—possibly gurnards or mackerel—that Turner had sketched.
Like Europa and the Bull (on view in the exhibition), this unfinished view of Norham Castle represents a reworking of an earlier mezzotint published in Turner's Liber Studiorum in 1816. Over nearly fifty years, Turner produced six finished watercolors of this castle along the Scottish border, attesting to the endurance of the motif. In 1906, when this painting was first exhibited along with Turner's other late unfinished oils, critics were struck by what they perceived as their precocious abstraction: "We have never seen Turner before!"
As Turner's first exhibited oil painting at the Royal Academy, this marine piece marks a departure from the topographical subjects of his earlier watercolors, for which he was becoming known, and signals his artistic ambitions. Capitalizing on the contemporary vogue for moonlit imagery, Turner juxtaposed the effects of both moonlight and firelight, prefiguring his later work. A contemporary review praised the picture's naturalism.
The Pass of St. Gotthard, ca. 1803–4. Oil on canvas; Birmingham Museums and Art Gallery. Presented by the Public Picture Gallery Fund, 1935
Turner assumed a vantage point from the center of the Devil's Bridge near the top of the Gotthard pass, offering a vertiginous view into the valley below. Silhouetted against the clouds in the middle distance, a solitary figure prays before a cross at a wayside altar. A nineteenth-century guidebook describes this treacherous crossing: "At a place called the Devil's Bridge f a wind created by the fall blows and whirls around with a force that nearly lifts one from his feet."