A TRAMP ABROAD By Mark Twain

that is divine and unapproachable about the Old Master,

and that there is no arguing the fact away by any system of

reasoning whatsoever.

I can believe that. There are women who have an

indefinable charm in their faces which makes them

beautiful to their intimates, but a cold stranger

who tried to reason the matter out and find this beauty

would fail. He would say to one of these women: This

chin is too short, this nose is too long, this forehead

is too high, this hair is too red, this complexion is

too pallid, the perspective of the entire composition

is incorrect; conclusion, the woman is not beautiful.

But her nearest friend might say, and say truly,

“Your premises are right, your logic is faultless,

but your conclusion is wrong, nevertheless; she is an Old

Master–she is beautiful, but only to such as know her;

it is a beauty which cannot be formulated, but it is there, just

the same.”

I found more pleasure in contemplating the Old Masters

this time than I did when I was in Europe in former years,

but still it was a calm pleasure; there was nothing

overheated about it. When I was in Venice before,

I think I found no picture which stirred me much,

but this time there were two which enticed me to the Doge’s

palace day after day, and kept me there hours at a time.

One of these was Tintoretto’s three-acre picture in the

Great Council Chamber. When I saw it twelve years ago I

was not strongly attracted to it–the guide told me it

was an insurrection in heaven–but this was an error.

The movement of this great work is very fine. There are

ten thousand figures, and they are all doing something.

There is a wonderful “go” to the whole composition.

Some of the figures are driving headlong downward,

with clasped hands, others are swimming through the

cloud-shoals–some on their faces, some on their backs–great

processions of bishops, martyrs, and angels are pouring swiftly

centerward from various outlying directions–everywhere

is enthusiastic joy, there is rushing movement everywhere.

There are fifteen or twenty figures scattered here and there,

with books, but they cannot keep their attention on

their reading–they offer the books to others, but no

one wishes to read, now. The Lion of St. Mark is there

with his book; St. Mark is there with his pen uplifted;

he and the Lion are looking each other earnestly in the face,

disputing about the way to spell a word–the Lion

looks up in rapt admiration while St. Mark spells.

This is wonderfully interpreted by the artist.

It is the master-stroke of this imcomparable painting.

[Figure 10]

I visited the place daily, and never grew tired of

looking at that grand picture. As I have intimated,

the movement is almost unimaginable vigorous; the figures

are singing, hosannahing, and many are blowing trumpets.

So vividly is noise suggested, that spectators who become

absorbed in the picture almost always fall to shouting

comments in each other’s ears, making ear-trumpets of their

curved hands, fearing they may not otherwise be heard.

One often sees a tourist, with the eloquent tears pouring

down his cheeks, funnel his hands at his wife’s ear,

and hears him roar through them, “OH, TO BE THERE AND

AT REST!”

None but the supremely great in art can produce effects

like these with the silent brush.

Twelve years ago I could not have appreciated this picture.

One year ago I could not have appreciated it. My study

of Art in Heidelberg has been a noble education to me.

All that I am today in Art, I owe to that.

The other great work which fascinated me was Bassano’s

immortal Hair Trunk. This is in the Chamber of the Council

of Ten. It is in one of the three forty-foot pictures

which decorate the walls of the room. The composition

of this picture is beyond praise. The Hair Trunk is not

hurled at the stranger’s head–so to speak–as the chief

feature of an immortal work so often is; no, it is

carefully guarded from prominence, it is subordinated,

it is restrained, it is most deftly and cleverly held

in reserve, it is most cautiously and ingeniously led up to,