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  • Sept. 22, 1860
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The Freemasons' Monthly Magazine, Sept. 22, 1860: Page 7

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    Article THE TWO BOYHOODS.* ← Page 2 of 4 →
Page 7

Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.

The Two Boyhoods.*

' AVith such circumstances round him in youth , let us note what necessary effects followed upon the boy . I assume him to have Giorgiono's sensibility ( and more than Giorgione's , if that be possible ) to colour and form . I tell you father , and this fact you may receive trustfully , that is sensibility to human affection and distress was no less keen than even his sense for natural beauty—heartsight deep as eye-sight . Consequently , he attaches himself with the faithfullest child-love

to everything that bears an image of the place he was born in . No matter how ugly it is , —has it anything about it like Maiden-lane , or like Thames' shore ? If so , it shall be painted for their sake . Hence , to the very close of life , Turner could endure uglinesses ivhich no one else , of the same sensibility , would have borne with for an instant . Dead brick walls , blank square windows , old cloths , market-womanly types of humanity—anything fishy and muddy , like Billingsgate or Hungerford Market , had great attraction for him ; black barges , patched sales , ancl every possible condition of fog .

You will find these tolerations and affections guiding or sustaining 'him to the last- hour of his life ; the notablest of all such endurances being that of dirt . No Venetian ever draws anything foul ; but-Turner devoted picture after picture to the illustration of effects of ¦ dii-giness , smoke , soot , dust , and dusty texture ; old sides of boots , weedy roadside vegetation , dung-hills , straw-yards , and all the soilings and stains of every common labour . And more than thishe not onlcoulcl endurebut enjoyed and

, y , 'looked for litter , like Covent Garden wreck after the market . His pictures ave often full of it , from side to side : their foregrounds differ from all others in the natural way that things have of lying about in them . Even the richest vegetation , in ideal work , is confused ; ancl he delights in shingle , debris , ancl heaps of fallen stones . The last words he ever spoke to me about a picture were in gentle exultation about his St . Gothard ; "that litter of stones which I

endeavoured to represent . " The second great result of this Covent Garden training was , understanding of and regard for the poor , whom the Venetians , we saw despised ; whom , contrarily , Turner loved , and more than loved —understood . He got no romantic sight of them , but an infallible one , as he prowled about the end of his lane , watching night effects in the wintry streets ; nor sight of the poor alone , hut cf the poor

in direct relations with the rich . Ho knew , in good and evil , what both classes thought of ) and how they dealt with , each other . Heynohls and Gainsborough , bred in country villages , learned there the country boy's reverential theory of "the squire /' •and kept it . They painted the squire ancl the squire ' s lady as centres of the movements of the universe , to the end of their lives . Hut Turner perceived the younger squire in other aspects about

his lane , occurring prominently in its night scenery , as a dark figure , or one of two , against the moonlight . He saw also the working of city commerce , from endless warehouses , towering over Thames , to the back shop in the lane , with its stale herrings—highly interesting these last ; one of father's best friends , whom he often afterwards •visited affectionately at Bristol , being a fishmonger and glue-boiler ; which ives us a friendlturn of mind towards herring-fishing

g y , whalihg , Calais poissardes , and many other of our choicest subjects in after life ; all this being connected with that mysterious forest below London ISridge on one side;—and , on the other , with these masses of human power and national wealth which weigh upon us , at Covent Garden here , with strange compression , and crush us into narrow Hand-court .

"That mysterious forest below London Bridge" —better for the boy than wood of pine or grove of myrtle . How he must have tormented the watermen , beseeching them to let him crouch anywhere ; in the bows , quiet as a log , so only that lie might get floated down there among the ships , and round and round the ships , ° and with the ships and by the ships , and under the ships , staring , and clambering —these the only quite beautiful things he can see in all the world , except the sk hue thesewhen the sun is on their sailsfilling 01

y ; , , falling endlessly disordered by sway of tide and stress of anchorage , ¦ beautiful unspeakably , ¦ which ships also are inhabited by glorious creatures—red-faced sailors , with pipes , appearing over the gunwales , true knights , over their castle parapets—the most angelic beings in the whole compass of London world . And Trafalgar happening long before we can draw ships , we , nevertheless , coax , all current stories out of the wounded sailors , do our best at jiresent to show Nelson

' s funeral streaming up the Thames , and vow that Trafal gar shall have its tribute of memory some day . "Which , accordingly , is accomplished—once , ivith all our might / for its death ; twice with all our might , for its victory ; thrice , in pensive farewell to the old Tcmcraire , and , with it , to that order of tilings . _ Now , this fond companying with sailors must have divided his time , it appears to me , pretty equally between Covent Garden and Wapping ( allowing for incidental excursions to Chelsea on one side ,

and Greenwich on the other ) ivhich time he ivould spend pleasantly , but not magnificently , being limited iu pocket-money , ancl leading a kind of " Poor . Tack" life ou the river . In some respects , no life could be better for a lad . P-ut it was not calculated to make his ear fine to the niceties of language , nor form his moralities on an entirely regular standard . Picking up his first scraps of vigorous English chiefly at Deptford and in the markets , and his first ideas of female tenderness and beautamolig hs

y nymp ofthe barge and the barrow , another boy might , perhaps , have become what people usually term ' - ' vulgar . " Hut the original make and frame of Turner ' s mind being not vulgar , but as nearly as possible a combination of the minds of Keats and Dante , joining capricious waywardness , and intense openness to every fine pleasure of sense , and hot defiance of format precedent , with a quite infinite tenderness , generosity , and desire of justice and truth—this kind of

mind did not become vulgar , but very tolerant of vulgarity , even fond of it in some forms ; and , on the outside , visibly infected by it , deeply enough ; the curious result , in its combination of elements , being to most people wholly incomprehensible . It was as if a cable had been woven of blood-crimson silk , and then tarred on the outside . People handled it , and the tar came off on their hands ; red gleams were seen through the black , underneath , at the places where it had been strained . Was it ochre ?—said the world—or red lead ?

Schooled thus in manners , literature , and general moral principles at Chelsea and Wapping , we have finally to inquire concerning- the most important point of all . We have seen the princijial differences between this boy and Giorgione , as respects sight of the beautiful , understanding of poverty , of commerce , and of order of battle ; then follows another cause of difference in our training—not slight—the aspect of religion , namely , in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden . I say the aspect ; for that was all the lad could judge bDisposed

y . , for the most part , to learn chielly hy his eyes , in this special matter he finds there is really no other way of learning . His father taught him " to lay one penny upon another . " Of mother ' s teaching , we hear of none ; ' of parish pastoral teaching , the reader may guess how much .

I chose Giorgione rather than A eroiicse to help mc in carrying out this parallel ; because I do not find in Giorgione ' s ivork any o the early Venetian monachi ' st element . He seems to me to have belonged more to an abstract contemplative school . I may b wrong in this ; it is no matter;—suppose it were so , and that h came down to A eniee somewhat recusant , or insentient , concei-nin the usual priestly doctrines of his day—how ivould the Venetian re lig-ion , from an outer intellectual standing-point , have looked to him

He would have seen it to be a religion indisputably powerful in human affairs ; often very harmfully so ; sometimes devouring widows' houses , and consuming the strongest and fairest from among the young ; freezing into merciless bigotry the policy ofthe old ; also , on the other hand , animating national courage , and raisingsouls otherwise sordid , into heroism : on tiie whole , always a real and great jiower ; served with daily sacrifice of gold , time , and

thought ; putting forth its claims , if hypocritically , at least in bold hypocrisy , not waiving any atom of them in doubt or fear ; and , assuredly , in large measure , sincere , believing- in itself ) and believed .-a goodly system , moreover , in asjiect ; gorgeous , harmonious , mysterious : —a thing which had either to be obeyed or combated , but could not he scorned . A religion towering over all the city—manybuttressed—luminous in marble st . itelii . es .- -, as tho dome of our Lady of Safety shines over the sea ; many-voiced also , giving , overall the eastern seas , to the sentinel his watchman , to the soldier his war-cry ; and , on the lips of all who died for Venice , shaping the whisper of death .

I suppose the boy Turner to have regarded the . religion of his citj also from an external intellectual standing-point . What did ho see in Maiden-lane ? Let not the reader bo offended with me ; I am willing to let him describe , at his own jileasui-c , what Turner saw there ; but to me it seems to havo been this . A religion maintained occasionally , even the whole length of the laneat jioint of constable's stall ' butat

, ; , other times , placed under the custody of the beadle , within certain black and unstately iron railings of St . Paul ' s , Covent Garden . Among the wheelbarrows and over the vegetables , no jiei-cejitible dominance of religion ; in the narrow , disquieted streets , none ; in the tongues , deeds , daily ways of Maiden-lane , little . Some honesty , indeed , and English industry , and kindness of heart , and general idea of justice ; but faithof any national kindshut up from one

, , Sunday to the next , not artistically beautiful , even in those Sabbatical exhibitions ; its paraphernalia being chiefly of high pews , heavy elocution , and cold grimness of behaviour . AVhat chiaroscuro belongs to it — ( dependent mostly on candle light)—we will , however , draw , considerately ; no goodliness of escutcheon , nor other respectability being omitted , ancl the best of

“The Freemasons' Monthly Magazine: 1860-09-22, Page 7” Masonic Periodicals Online, Library and Museum of Freemasonry, 8 June 2025, django:8000/periodicals/mmr/issues/mmr_22091860/page/7/.
  • List
  • Grid
Title Category Page
CLASSICAL THEOLOGY.—XXXIII. Article 1
MASTER-PIECES OF THE ARCHITECTURE OF DIFFERENT NATIONS. Article 2
NON-AFFILIATED MASONS. Article 3
ARCHITECTURE AND ARCHÆOLOGY. Article 4
MASONIC RAMBLES. Article 6
THE TWO BOYHOODS.* Article 6
MASONIC NOTES AND QUERIES. Article 9
CANADIAN MEDAL. Article 10
Literature. Article 11
CORRESPONDENCE. Article 12
NOTES ON LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART. Article 13
THE MASONIC MIRROR. Article 14
METROPOLITAN. Article 14
PROVINCIAL. Article 14
MARK MASONRY. Article 15
IRELAND. Article 17
CAPE OF GOOD HOPE. Article 18
AMERICA. Article 18
THE WEEK. Article 19
NOTES ON MUSIC AND THE DRAMA. Article 20
TO CORRESPONDENTS. Article 20
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Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.

The Two Boyhoods.*

' AVith such circumstances round him in youth , let us note what necessary effects followed upon the boy . I assume him to have Giorgiono's sensibility ( and more than Giorgione's , if that be possible ) to colour and form . I tell you father , and this fact you may receive trustfully , that is sensibility to human affection and distress was no less keen than even his sense for natural beauty—heartsight deep as eye-sight . Consequently , he attaches himself with the faithfullest child-love

to everything that bears an image of the place he was born in . No matter how ugly it is , —has it anything about it like Maiden-lane , or like Thames' shore ? If so , it shall be painted for their sake . Hence , to the very close of life , Turner could endure uglinesses ivhich no one else , of the same sensibility , would have borne with for an instant . Dead brick walls , blank square windows , old cloths , market-womanly types of humanity—anything fishy and muddy , like Billingsgate or Hungerford Market , had great attraction for him ; black barges , patched sales , ancl every possible condition of fog .

You will find these tolerations and affections guiding or sustaining 'him to the last- hour of his life ; the notablest of all such endurances being that of dirt . No Venetian ever draws anything foul ; but-Turner devoted picture after picture to the illustration of effects of ¦ dii-giness , smoke , soot , dust , and dusty texture ; old sides of boots , weedy roadside vegetation , dung-hills , straw-yards , and all the soilings and stains of every common labour . And more than thishe not onlcoulcl endurebut enjoyed and

, y , 'looked for litter , like Covent Garden wreck after the market . His pictures ave often full of it , from side to side : their foregrounds differ from all others in the natural way that things have of lying about in them . Even the richest vegetation , in ideal work , is confused ; ancl he delights in shingle , debris , ancl heaps of fallen stones . The last words he ever spoke to me about a picture were in gentle exultation about his St . Gothard ; "that litter of stones which I

endeavoured to represent . " The second great result of this Covent Garden training was , understanding of and regard for the poor , whom the Venetians , we saw despised ; whom , contrarily , Turner loved , and more than loved —understood . He got no romantic sight of them , but an infallible one , as he prowled about the end of his lane , watching night effects in the wintry streets ; nor sight of the poor alone , hut cf the poor

in direct relations with the rich . Ho knew , in good and evil , what both classes thought of ) and how they dealt with , each other . Heynohls and Gainsborough , bred in country villages , learned there the country boy's reverential theory of "the squire /' •and kept it . They painted the squire ancl the squire ' s lady as centres of the movements of the universe , to the end of their lives . Hut Turner perceived the younger squire in other aspects about

his lane , occurring prominently in its night scenery , as a dark figure , or one of two , against the moonlight . He saw also the working of city commerce , from endless warehouses , towering over Thames , to the back shop in the lane , with its stale herrings—highly interesting these last ; one of father's best friends , whom he often afterwards •visited affectionately at Bristol , being a fishmonger and glue-boiler ; which ives us a friendlturn of mind towards herring-fishing

g y , whalihg , Calais poissardes , and many other of our choicest subjects in after life ; all this being connected with that mysterious forest below London ISridge on one side;—and , on the other , with these masses of human power and national wealth which weigh upon us , at Covent Garden here , with strange compression , and crush us into narrow Hand-court .

"That mysterious forest below London Bridge" —better for the boy than wood of pine or grove of myrtle . How he must have tormented the watermen , beseeching them to let him crouch anywhere ; in the bows , quiet as a log , so only that lie might get floated down there among the ships , and round and round the ships , ° and with the ships and by the ships , and under the ships , staring , and clambering —these the only quite beautiful things he can see in all the world , except the sk hue thesewhen the sun is on their sailsfilling 01

y ; , , falling endlessly disordered by sway of tide and stress of anchorage , ¦ beautiful unspeakably , ¦ which ships also are inhabited by glorious creatures—red-faced sailors , with pipes , appearing over the gunwales , true knights , over their castle parapets—the most angelic beings in the whole compass of London world . And Trafalgar happening long before we can draw ships , we , nevertheless , coax , all current stories out of the wounded sailors , do our best at jiresent to show Nelson

' s funeral streaming up the Thames , and vow that Trafal gar shall have its tribute of memory some day . "Which , accordingly , is accomplished—once , ivith all our might / for its death ; twice with all our might , for its victory ; thrice , in pensive farewell to the old Tcmcraire , and , with it , to that order of tilings . _ Now , this fond companying with sailors must have divided his time , it appears to me , pretty equally between Covent Garden and Wapping ( allowing for incidental excursions to Chelsea on one side ,

and Greenwich on the other ) ivhich time he ivould spend pleasantly , but not magnificently , being limited iu pocket-money , ancl leading a kind of " Poor . Tack" life ou the river . In some respects , no life could be better for a lad . P-ut it was not calculated to make his ear fine to the niceties of language , nor form his moralities on an entirely regular standard . Picking up his first scraps of vigorous English chiefly at Deptford and in the markets , and his first ideas of female tenderness and beautamolig hs

y nymp ofthe barge and the barrow , another boy might , perhaps , have become what people usually term ' - ' vulgar . " Hut the original make and frame of Turner ' s mind being not vulgar , but as nearly as possible a combination of the minds of Keats and Dante , joining capricious waywardness , and intense openness to every fine pleasure of sense , and hot defiance of format precedent , with a quite infinite tenderness , generosity , and desire of justice and truth—this kind of

mind did not become vulgar , but very tolerant of vulgarity , even fond of it in some forms ; and , on the outside , visibly infected by it , deeply enough ; the curious result , in its combination of elements , being to most people wholly incomprehensible . It was as if a cable had been woven of blood-crimson silk , and then tarred on the outside . People handled it , and the tar came off on their hands ; red gleams were seen through the black , underneath , at the places where it had been strained . Was it ochre ?—said the world—or red lead ?

Schooled thus in manners , literature , and general moral principles at Chelsea and Wapping , we have finally to inquire concerning- the most important point of all . We have seen the princijial differences between this boy and Giorgione , as respects sight of the beautiful , understanding of poverty , of commerce , and of order of battle ; then follows another cause of difference in our training—not slight—the aspect of religion , namely , in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden . I say the aspect ; for that was all the lad could judge bDisposed

y . , for the most part , to learn chielly hy his eyes , in this special matter he finds there is really no other way of learning . His father taught him " to lay one penny upon another . " Of mother ' s teaching , we hear of none ; ' of parish pastoral teaching , the reader may guess how much .

I chose Giorgione rather than A eroiicse to help mc in carrying out this parallel ; because I do not find in Giorgione ' s ivork any o the early Venetian monachi ' st element . He seems to me to have belonged more to an abstract contemplative school . I may b wrong in this ; it is no matter;—suppose it were so , and that h came down to A eniee somewhat recusant , or insentient , concei-nin the usual priestly doctrines of his day—how ivould the Venetian re lig-ion , from an outer intellectual standing-point , have looked to him

He would have seen it to be a religion indisputably powerful in human affairs ; often very harmfully so ; sometimes devouring widows' houses , and consuming the strongest and fairest from among the young ; freezing into merciless bigotry the policy ofthe old ; also , on the other hand , animating national courage , and raisingsouls otherwise sordid , into heroism : on tiie whole , always a real and great jiower ; served with daily sacrifice of gold , time , and

thought ; putting forth its claims , if hypocritically , at least in bold hypocrisy , not waiving any atom of them in doubt or fear ; and , assuredly , in large measure , sincere , believing- in itself ) and believed .-a goodly system , moreover , in asjiect ; gorgeous , harmonious , mysterious : —a thing which had either to be obeyed or combated , but could not he scorned . A religion towering over all the city—manybuttressed—luminous in marble st . itelii . es .- -, as tho dome of our Lady of Safety shines over the sea ; many-voiced also , giving , overall the eastern seas , to the sentinel his watchman , to the soldier his war-cry ; and , on the lips of all who died for Venice , shaping the whisper of death .

I suppose the boy Turner to have regarded the . religion of his citj also from an external intellectual standing-point . What did ho see in Maiden-lane ? Let not the reader bo offended with me ; I am willing to let him describe , at his own jileasui-c , what Turner saw there ; but to me it seems to havo been this . A religion maintained occasionally , even the whole length of the laneat jioint of constable's stall ' butat

, ; , other times , placed under the custody of the beadle , within certain black and unstately iron railings of St . Paul ' s , Covent Garden . Among the wheelbarrows and over the vegetables , no jiei-cejitible dominance of religion ; in the narrow , disquieted streets , none ; in the tongues , deeds , daily ways of Maiden-lane , little . Some honesty , indeed , and English industry , and kindness of heart , and general idea of justice ; but faithof any national kindshut up from one

, , Sunday to the next , not artistically beautiful , even in those Sabbatical exhibitions ; its paraphernalia being chiefly of high pews , heavy elocution , and cold grimness of behaviour . AVhat chiaroscuro belongs to it — ( dependent mostly on candle light)—we will , however , draw , considerately ; no goodliness of escutcheon , nor other respectability being omitted , ancl the best of

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