s, underneath, making them white all through, as the water is
under a great cataract; and their masses, being thus half water and half
air, are torn to pieces by the wind whenever they rise, and carried away
in roaring smoke, which chokes and strangles like actual water. Add to
this, that when the air has been exhausted of its moisture by long rain,
the spray of the sea is caught by it as described above, (Section III.
Chapter VI. Sec. 13,) and covers its surface not merely with the smoke of
finely divided water, but with boiling mist; imagine also the low
rain-clouds brought down to the very level of the sea, as I have often
seen them, whirling and flying in rags and fragments from wave to wave;
and finally, conceive the surges themselves in their utmost pitch of
power, velocity, vastness, and madness, lifting themselves in precipices
and peaks, furrowed with their whirl of ascent, through all this chaos;
and you will understand that there is indeed no distinction left between
the sea and air; that no object, nor horizon, nor any landmark or
natural evidence of position is left; that the heaven is all spray, and
the ocean all cloud, and that you can see no farther in any direction
than you could see through a cataract. Suppose the effect of the first
sunbeam sent from above to show this annihilation to itself, and you
have the sea picture of the Academy, 1842--the Snowstorm, one of the
very grandest statements of sea-motion, mist, and light that has ever
been put on canvas, even by Turner. Of course it was not understood; his
finest works never are; but there was some apology for the public's not
comprehending this, for few people have had the opportunity of seeing
the sea at such a time, and when they have, cannot face it. To hold by a
mast or a rock, and watch it, is a prolonged endurance of drowning which
few people have courage to go through. To those who have, it is one of
the noblest lessons of nature.

Sec. 39. Turner's noblest work, the deep open sea in the Slave Ship.

But, I think, the noblest sea that Turner has ever painted, and, if so,
the noblest certainly ever painted by man, is that of the Slave Ship,
the chief Academy picture of the Exhibition of 1840. It is a sunset on
the Atlantic after prolonged storm; but the storm is partially lulled,
and the torn and streaming rain-clouds are moving in scarlet lines to
lose themselves in the hollow of the night. The whole surface of sea
included in the picture