them. Nothing could be more
faithful than the boat which was the principal object in this picture,
in the cut of the sail, the filling of it, the exact height of the boom
above the deck, the quartering of it with color, finally and especially,
the hanging of the fish-baskets about the bows. All these, however, are
comparatively minor merits, (though not the blaze of color which the
artist elicited from the right use of these circumstances,) but the
peculiar power of the picture was the painting of the sea surface, where
there were no reflections to assist it. A stream of splendid color fell
from the boat, but that occupied the centre only; in the distance, the
city and crowded boats threw down some playing lines, but these still
left on each side of the boat a large space of water reflecting nothing
but the morning sky. This was divided by an eddying swell, on whose
continuous sides the local color of the water was seen, pure aquamarine,
(a beautiful occurrence of closely-observed truth,) but still there
remained a large blank space of pale water to be treated, the sky above
had no distinct details and was pure faint gray, with broken white
vestiges of cloud: it gave no help therefore. But there the water lay,
no dead gray flat paint, but downright clear, playing, palpable surface,
full of indefinite hue, and retiring as regularly and visibly back and
far away, as if there had been objects all over it to tell the story by
perspective. Now it is the doing of this which tries the painter, and it
is his having done this which made me say above that "no man had ever
painted the surface of calm water but Turner." The San Benedetto,
looking towards Fusina, contained a similar passage, equally fine; in
one of the Canale della Guidecca the specific green color of the water
is seen in front, with the shadows of the boats thrown on it in purple;
all, as it retires, passing into the pure reflective blue.

Sec. 12. Relation of various circumstances of past agitation, etc., by the
most trifling incidents, as in the Cowes.

But Turner is not satisfied with this. He is never altogether content
unless he can, at the same time that he takes advantage of all the
placidity of repose, tell us something either about the past commotion
of the water, or of some present stirring of tide or current which its
stillness does not show, or give us something or other to think about
and reason upon, as well as to look at. Take a few instanc