第10章

HereinMilan，inanancienttumble—downruinofachurch，isthemournfulwreckof，themostcelebratedpaintingintheworld——"TheLastSupper，"

byLeonardodaVinci。Wearenotinfalliblejudgesofpictures，butofcoursewewenttheretoseethiswonderfulpainting，oncesobeautiful，alwayssoworshippedbymastersinart，andforevertobefamousinsongandstory。AndthefirstthingthatoccurredwastheinflictiononusofaplacardfairlyreekingwithwretchedEnglish。Takeamorselofit:Bartholomew（thatisthefirstfigureonthelefthandsideatthespectator）uncertainanddoubtfulaboutwhathethinkstohaveheard，anduponwhichhewantstobeassuredbyhimselfatChristandbynoothers。Good，isn\'tit？AndthenPeterisdescribedas"argumentinginathreateningandangrilyconditionatJudasIscariot。"

Thisparagraphrecallsthepicture。"TheLastSupper"ispaintedonthedilapidatedwallofwhatwasalittlechapelattachedtothemainchurchinancienttimes，Isuppose。Itisbatteredandscarredineverydirection，andstainedanddiscoloredbytime，andNapoleon\'shorseskickedthelegsoffmostthediscipleswhenthey（thehorses，notthedisciples）werestabledtheremorethanhalfacenturyago。

Irecognizedtheoldpictureinamoment——theSaviourwithbowedheadseatedatthecenterofalong，roughtablewithscatteringfruitsanddishesuponit，andsixdisciplesoneithersideintheirlongrobes，talkingtoeachother——thepicturefromwhichallengravingsandallcopieshavebeenmadeforthreecenturies。PerhapsnolivingmanhaseverknownanattempttopainttheLord\'sSupperdifferently。Theworldseemstohavebecomesettledinthebelief，longago，thatitisnotpossibleforhumangeniustooutdothiscreationofdaVinci\'s。Isupposepainterswillgooncopyingitaslongasanyoftheoriginalisleftvisibletotheeye。

Therewereadozeneaselsintheroom，andasmanyartiststransferringthegreatpicturetotheircanvases。Fiftyproofsofsteelengravingsandlithographswerescatteredaround，too。Andasusual，Icouldnothelpnoticinghowsuperiorthecopiesweretotheoriginal，thatis，tomyinexperiencedeye。WhereveryoufindaRaphael，aRubens，aMichelangelo，aCarracci，oradaVinci（andweseethemeveryday），youfindartistscopyingthem，andthecopiesarealwaysthehandsomest。Maybetheoriginalswerehandsomewhentheywerenew，buttheyarenotnow。

Thispictureisaboutthirtyfeetlongandtenortwelvehigh，Ishouldthink，andthefiguresareatleastlife—size。ItisoneofthelargestpaintingsinEurope。

Thecolorsaredimmedwithage;thecountenancesarescaledandmarred，andnearlyallexpressionisgonefromthem;thehairisadeadbluruponthewall，andthereisnolifeintheeyes。Onlytheattitudesarecertain。

Peoplecomeherefromallpartsoftheworldandglorifythismasterpiece。

Theystandentrancedbeforeitwithbatedbreathandpartedlips，andwhentheyspeak，itisonlyinthecatchyejaculationsofrapture:

"Oh，wonderful！"

"Suchexpression！"

"Suchgraceofattitude！"

"Suchdignity！"

"Suchfaultlessdrawing！"

"Suchmatchlesscoloring！"

"Suchfeeling！"

"Whatdelicacyoftouch！"

"Whatsublimityofconception！"

"Avision！Avision！"

Ionlyenvythesepeople;Ienvythemtheirhonestadmiration，ifitbehonest——theirdelight，iftheyfeeldelight。Iharbornoanimositytowardanyofthem。Butatthesametimethethoughtwillintrudeitselfuponme:Howcantheyseewhatisnotvisible？Whatwouldyouthinkofamanwholookedatsomedecayed，blind，toothless，pock—markedCleopatraandsaid:"Whatmatchlessbeauty！Whatsoul！Whatexpression！"Whatwouldyouthinkofamanwhogazeduponadingy，foggysunsetandsaid:"Whatsublimity！

Whatfeeling！Whatrichnessofcoloring！"Whatwouldyouthinkofamanwhostaredinecstasyuponadesertofstumpsandsaid:"Oh，mysoul，mybeatingheart，whatanobleforestishere！"

Youwouldthinkthatthosemenhadanastonishingtalentforseeingthingsthathadalreadypassedaway。ItwaswhatIthoughtwhenIstoodbefore"TheLastSupper"andheardmenapostrophizingwondersandbeautiesandperfectionswhichhadfadedoutofthepictureandgoneahundredyearsbeforetheywereborn。Wecanimaginethebeautythatwasonceinanagedface;wecanimaginetheforestifweseethestumps;butwecannotabsolutelyseethesethingswhentheyarenotthere。Iamwillingtobelievethattheeyeofthepracticedartistcanrestupon"TheLastSupper"andrenewalusterwhereonlyahintofitisleft，supplyatintthathasfadedaway，restoreanexpressionthatisgone;patchandcolorandaddtothedullcanvasuntilatlastitsfiguresshallstandbeforehimaglowwiththelife，thefeeling，thefreshness，yea，withallthenoblebeautythatwastheirswhenfirsttheycamefromthehandofthemaster。ButI

cannotworkthismiracle。Canthoseotheruninspiredvisitorsdoit，ordotheyonlyhappilyimaginetheydo？

Afterreadingsomuchaboutit，Iamsatisfiedthat\'TheLastSupper"

wasaverymiracleofartonce。Butitwasthreehundredyearsago。

Itvexesmetohearpeopletalksogliblyof"feeling，""expression，"

"tone，"andthoseothereasilyacquiredandinexpensivetechnicalitiesofartthatmakesuchafineshowinconversationsconcerningpictures。

Thereisnotoneaninseventy—fivehundredthatcantellwhatapicturedfaceisintendedtoexpress。Thereisnotonemaninfivehundredthatcangointoacourtroomandbesurethathewillnotmistakesomeharmlessinnocentofajurymanfortheblack—heartedassassinontrial。

Yetsuchpeopletalkof"character"andpresumetointerpret"expression"

inpictures。ThereisanoldstorythatMatthews，theactor，wasoncelaudingtheabilityofthehumanfacetoexpressthepassionsandemotionshiddeninthebreast。Hesaidthecountenancecoulddisclosewhatwaspassingintheheartplainerthanthetonguecould。

"Now，"hesaid，"observemyface——whatdoesitexpress？"

"Despair！"

"Bah，itexpressespeacefulresignation！Whatdoesthisexpress？"

"Rage！"

"Stuff！Itmeansterror！This！"

"Imbecility！"

"Fool！Itissmotheredferocity！Nowthis！"

"Joy！"

"Oh，perdition！Anyasscanseeitmeansinsanity！"

Expression！PeoplecoollypretendtoreaditwhowouldthinkthemselvespresumptuousiftheypretendedtointerpretthehieroglyphicsontheobelisksofLuxor——yettheyarefullyascompetenttodotheonethingastheother。

IhaveheardtwoveryintelligentcriticsspeakofMurillo\'s"ImmaculateConception"（nowinthemuseumatSeville）withinthepastfewdays。Onesaid:

"Oh，theVirgin\'sfaceisfulloftheecstasyofajoythatiscomplete——thatleavesnothingmoretobedesiredonearth！"

Theothersaid:

"Ah，thatwonderfulfaceissohumble，sopleading——itsaysasplainlyaswordscouldsayit:\'Ifear;Itremble;Iamunworthy。ButThywillbedone;sustainThouThyservant！\'"

Thereadercanseethepictureinanydrawingroom;itcanbeeasilyrecognized:theVirgin（theonlyyoungandreallybeautifulVirginthatwaseverpaintedbyoneoftheoldmasters，someofusthink）standsinthecrescentofthenewmoon，withamultitudeofcherubshoveringabouther，andmorecoming;herhandsarecrosseduponherbreast，anduponherupliftedcountenancefallsagloryoutoftheheavens。Thereadermayamusehimself，ifhechooses，intryingtodeterminewhichofthesegentlemenreadtheVirgin\'s"expression"arightorifeitherofthemdidit。

Anyonewhoisacquaintedwiththeoldmasterswillcomprehendhowmuch"TheLastSupper"isdamagedwhenIsaythatthespectatorcannotreallytellnowwhetherthedisciplesareHebrewsorItalians。Theseancientpaintersneversucceededindenationalizingthemselves。TheItalianartistspaintedItalianVirgins，theDutchpaintedDutchVirgins，theVirginsoftheFrenchpainterswereFrenchwomen——noneofthemeverputintothefaceoftheMadonnathatindescribablesomethingwhichproclaimstheJewess，whetheryoufindherinNewYork，inConstantinople，inParis，Jerusalem，orintheempireofMorocco。IsawintheSandwichIslands，once，apicturecopiedbyatalentedGermanartistfromanengravinginoneoftheAmericanillustratedpapers。Itwasanallegory，representingMr。Davisintheactofsigningasecessionactorsomesuchdocument。OverhimhoveredtheghostofWashingtoninwarningattitude，andinthebackgroundatroopofshadowysoldiersinContinentaluniformwerelimpingwithshoeless，bandagedfeetthroughadrivingsnowstorm。ValleyForgewassuggested，ofcourse。Thecopyseemedaccurate，andyettherewasadiscrepancysomewhere。AfteralongexaminationIdiscoveredwhatitwas——theshadowysoldierswereallGermans！JeffDaviswasaGerman！EventhehoveringghostwasaGermanghost！Theartisthadunconsciouslyworkedhisnationalityintothepicture。Totellthetruth，IamgettingalittleperplexedaboutJohntheBaptistandhisportraits。

InFranceIfinallygrewreconciledtohimasaFrenchman;hereheisunquestionablyanItalian。Whatnext？CanitbepossiblethatthepaintersmakeJohntheBaptistaSpaniardinMadridandanIrishmaninDublin？

WetookanopenbaroucheanddrovetwomilesoutofMilanto"seezeecho，"astheguideexpressedit。Theroadwassmooth，itwasborderedbytrees，fields，andgrassymeadows，andthesoftairwasfilledwiththeodorofflowers。Troopsofpicturesquepeasantgirls，comingfromwork，hootedatus，shoutedatus，madeallmannerofgameofus，andentirelydelightedme。Mylong—cherishedjudgmentwasconfirmed。Ialwaysdidthinkthosefrowzy，romantic，unwashedpeasantgirlsIhadreadsomuchaboutinpoetrywereaglaringfraud。

Weenjoyedourjaunt。Itwasanexhilaratingrelieffromtiresomesightseeing。

Wedistressedourselvesverylittleabouttheastonishingechotheguidetalkedsomuchabout。Weweregrowingaccustomedtoencomiumsonwondersthattoooftenprovednowondersatall。Andsoweweremosthappilydisappointedtofindinthesequelthattheguidehadevenfailedtorisetothemagnitudeofhissubject。

WearrivedatatumbledownoldrookerycalledthePalazzoSimonetti——amassivehewn—stoneaffairoccupiedbyafamilyofraggedItalians。Agood—lookingyounggirlconductedustoawindowonthesecondfloorwhichlookedoutonacourtwalledonthreesidesbytallbuildings。Sheputherheadoutatthewindowandshouted。Theechoansweredmoretimesthanwecouldcount。

Shetookaspeakingtrumpetandthroughitsheshouted，sharpandquick，asingle"Ha！"Theechoanswered:

"Ha！——————ha！—————ha！———ha！——ha！—ha！ha！h—a—a—a—a—a！"andfinallywentoffintoarollickingconvulsionofthejolliestlaughterthatcouldbeimagined。Itwassojoyful——solongcontinued——soperfectlycordialandheartythateverybodywasforcedtojoinin。Therewasnoresistingit。

Thenthegirltookagunandfiredit。Westoodreadytocounttheastonishingclatterofreverberations。Wecouldnotsayone，two，three，fastenough，butwecoulddotournotebookswithourpencilpointsalmostrapidlyenoughtotakedownasortofshorthandreportoftheresult。Mypagerevealedthefollowingaccount。Icouldnotkeepup，butIdidaswellasIcould。

Isetdownfifty—twodistinctrepetitions，andthentheechogottheadvantageofme。Thedoctorsetdownsixty—four，andthenceforththeechomovedtoofastforhimalso。Aftertheseparateconcussionscouldnolongerbenoted，thereverberationsdwindledtoawild，long—sustainedclatterofsoundssuchasawatchman\'srattleproduces。Itislikelythatthisisthemostremarkableechointheworld。

Thedoctor，injest，offeredtokisstheyounggirl，andwastakenalittleabackwhenshesaidhemightforafranc！Thecommonestgallantrycompelledhimtostandbyhisoffer，andsohepaidthefrancandtookthekiss。Shewasaphilosopher。Shesaidafrancwasagoodthingtohave，andshedidnotcareanythingforonepaltrykiss，becauseshehadamillionleft。Thenourcomrade，alwaysashrewdbusinessman，offeredtotakethewholecargoatthirtydays，butthatlittlefinancialschemewasafailure。

Chapter20

WeleftMilanbyrail。Thecathedralsixorsevenmilesbehindus;vast，dreamy，bluish，snow—cladmountainstwentymilesinfrontofus——theseweretheaccentedpointsinthescenery。Themoreimmediatesceneryconsistedoffieldsandfarmhousesoutsidethecarandamonster—headeddwarfandamoustachedwomaninsideit。Theselatterwerenotshowpeople。Alas，deformityandfemalebeardsaretoocommoninItalytoattractattention。

Wepassedthrougharangeofwild，picturesquehills，steep，wooded，cone—shaped，withruggedcragsprojectinghereandthere，andwithdwellingsandruinouscastlesperchedawayuptowardthedriftingclouds。WelunchedatthecuriousoldtownofComo，atthefootofthelake，andthentookthesmallsteamerandhadanafternoon\'spleasureexcursiontothisplace——Bellaggio。

Whenwewalkedashore，apartyofpolicemen（peoplewhosecockedhatsandshowyuniformswouldshamethefinestuniforminthemilitaryserviceoftheUnitedStates）putusintoalittlestonecellandlockedusin。

Wehadthewholepassengerlistforcompany，buttheirroomwouldhavebeenpreferable，fortherewasnolight，therewerenowindows，noventilation。

Itwascloseandhot。Weweremuchcrowded。ItwastheBlackHoleofCalcuttaonasmallscale。Presentlyasmokeroseaboutourfeet——asmokethatsmelledofallthedeadthingsofearth，ofalltheputrefactionandcorruptionimaginable。

Weweretherefiveminutes，andwhenwegotoutitwashardtotellwhichofuscarriedthevilestfragrance。

Thesemiserableoutcastscalledthat"fumigating"us，andthetermwasatameoneindeed。Theyfumigatedustoguardthemselvesagainstthecholera，thoughwehailedfromnoinfectedport。Wehadleftthecholerafarbehindusallthetime。However，theymustkeepepidemicsawaysomehoworother，andfumigationischeaperthansoap。Theymusteitherwashthemselvesorfumigateotherpeople。Someofthelowerclasseshadratherdiethanwash，butthefumigationofstrangerscausesthemnopangs。Theyneednofumigationthemselves。Theirhabitsmakeitunnecessary。Theycarrytheirpreventivewiththem;theysweatandfumigateallthedaylong。ItrustIamahumbleandaconsistentChristian。Itrytodowhatisright。Iknowitismydutyto"prayforthemthatdespitefullyuseme";andtherefore，hardasitis，Ishallstilltrytoprayforthesefumigating，maccaroni—stuffingorgan—grinders。

Ourhotelsitsatthewater\'sedge——atleastitsfrontgardendoes——andwewalkamongtheshrubberyandsmokeattwilight;welookafaroffatSwitzerlandandtheAlpsandfeelanindolentwillingnesstolooknocloser;

wegodownthestepsandswiminthelake;wetakeashapelylittleboatandsailabroadamongthereflectionsofthestars，lieonthethwartsandlistentothedistantlaughter，thesinging，thesoftmelodyofflutesandguitarsthatcomesfloatingacrossthewaterfrompleasuringgondolas;

weclosetheeveningwithexasperatingbilliardsononeofthosesameoldexecrabletables。Amidnightluncheoninouramplebedchamber;afinalsmokeinitscontractedverandafacingthewater，thegardens，andthemountains;asummingupoftheday\'sevents。Thentobed，withdrowsybrainsharassedwithamadpanoramathatmixesuppicturesofFrance，ofItaly，oftheship，oftheocean，ofhome，ingrotesqueandbewilderingdisorder。

Thenameltingawayoffamiliarfaces，ofcities，andoftossingwaves，intoagreatcalmofforgetfulnessandpeace。

Afterwhich，thenightmare。

Breakfastinthemorning，andthenthelake。

Ididnotlikeityesterday。IthoughtLakeTahoewasmuchfiner。

Ihavetoconfessnow，however，thatmyjudgmenterredsomewhat，thoughnotextravagantly。IalwayshadanideathatComowasavastbasinofwater，likeTahoe，shutinbygreatmountains。Well，theborderofhugemountainsishere，butthelakeitselfisnotabasin。Itisascrookedasanybrook，andonlyfromone—quartertotwo—thirdsaswideastheMississippi。Thereisnotayardoflowgroundoneithersideofit——nothingbutendlesschainsofmountainsthatspringabruptlyfromthewater\'sedgeandtowertoaltitudesvaryingfromathousandtotwothousandfeet。Theircraggysidesareclothedwithvegetation，andwhitespecksofhousespeepoutfromtheluxuriantfoliageeverywhere;theyareevenpercheduponjuttingandpicturesquepinnaclesathousandfeetaboveyourhead。

Again，formilesalongtheshores，handsomecountryseats，surroundedbygardensandgroves，sitfairlyinthewater，sometimesinnookscarvedbyNatureoutofthevine—hungprecipices，andwithnoingressoregresssavebyboats。Somehavegreatbroadstonestaircasesleadingdowntothewater，withheavystonebalustradesornamentedwithstatuaryandfancifullyadornedwithcreepingvinesandbright—coloredflowers——foralltheworldlikeadropcurtaininatheater——andlackingnothingbutlong—waisted，high—heeledwomenandplumedgallantsinsilkentightscomingdowntogoserenadinginthesplendidgondolainwaiting。

AgreatfeatureofComo\'sattractivenessisthemultitudeofprettyhousesandgardensthatclusteruponitsshoresandonitsmountainsides。

Theylooksosnugandsohomelike，andateventide，wheneverythingseemstoslumberandthemusicofthevesperbellscomesstealingoverthewater，onealmostbelievesthatnowhereelsethanonthelakeofComocantherebefoundsuchaparadiseoftranquilrepose。

FrommywindowhereinBellaggioIhaveaviewoftheothersideofthelakenow，whichisasbeautifulasapicture。Ascarredandwrinkledprecipicerisestoaheightofeighteenhundredfeet;onatinybenchhalfwayupitsvastwallsitsalittlesnowflakeofachurch，nobiggerthanamartinboxapparently;skirtingthebaseofthecliffareahundredorangegrovesandgardens，fleckedwithglimpsesofthewhitedwellingsthatareburiedinthem;infront，threeorfourgondolaslieidleuponthewater——andintheburnishedmirrorofthelake，mountain，chapel，houses，groves，andboatsarecounterfeitedsobrightlyandsoclearlythatonescarceknowswheretherealityleavesoffandthereflectionbegins！

Thesurroundingsofthispicturearefine。Amileawayagrove—plumedpromontoryjutsfarintothelakeandglassesitspalaceinthebluedepths;

inmidstreamaboatiscuttingtheshiningsurfaceandleavingalongtrackbehindlikearayoflight;themountainsbeyondareveiledinadreamypurplehaze;farintheoppositedirectionatumbledmassofdomesandverdantslopesandvalleysbarsthelake，andhereindeeddoesdistancelendenchantmenttotheview——foronthisbroadcanvas，sunandcloudsandtherichestofatmosphereshaveblendedathousandtintstogether，andoveritssurfacethefilmylightsandshadowsdrift，hourafterhour，andglorifyitwithabeautythatseemsreflectedoutofheavenitself。

Beyondallquestion，thisisthemostvoluptuousscenewehaveyetlookedupon。

Lastnightthescenerywasstrikingandpicturesque。Ontheothersidecragsandtreesandsnowyhouseswerereflectedinthelakewithawonderfuldistinctness，andstreamsoflightfrommanyadistantwindowshotfarabroadoverthestillwaters。Onthisside，nearathand，greatmansions，whitewithmoonlight，glaredoutfromthemidstofmassesoffoliagethatlayblackandshapelessintheshadowsthatfellfromthecliffabove——anddowninthemarginofthelakeeveryfeatureoftheweirdvisionwasfaithfullyrepeated。

Todaywehaveidledthroughawonderofagardenattachedtoaducalestate——butenoughofdescriptionisenough，Ijudge。Isuspectthatthiswasthesameplacethegardener\'ssondeceivedtheLadyofLyonswith，butIdonotknow。Youmayhaveheardofthepassagesomewhere:Adeepvale，ShutoutbyAlpinehillsfromtherudeworld，NearaclearlakemarginedbyfruitsofgoldAndwhisperingmyrtles:

Glassingsoftestskies，cloudless，Savewithrareandroseateshadows;

Apalace，liftingtoeternalheavenitsmarbledwalls，Fromoutaglossybowerofcoolestfoliagemusicalwithbirds。Thatisallverywell，exceptthe"clear"partofthelake。Itcertainlyisclearerthanagreatmanylakes，buthowdullitswatersarecomparedwiththewonderfultransparenceofLakeTahoe！IspeakofthenorthshoreofTahoe，whereonecancountthescalesonatroutatadepthofahundredandeightyfeet。Ihavetriedtogetthisstatementoffatparhere，butwithnosuccess;soIhavebeenobligedtonegotiateitatfiftypercentdiscount。AtthisrateIfindsometakers;perhapsthereaderwillreceiveitonthesameterms——ninetyfeetinsteadofonehundredandeighty。Butletitberememberedthatthoseareforcedterms——sheriffssaleprices。

AsfarasIamprivatelyconcerned，Iabatenotajotoftheoriginalassertionthatinthosestrangelymagnifyingwatersonemaycountthescalesonatrout（atroutofthelargekind）atadepthofahundredandeightyfeet——mayseeeverypebbleonthebottom——mightevencountapaperofdraypins。

PeopletalkofthetransparentwatersoftheMexicanBayofAcapulco，butinmyownexperienceIknowtheycannotcomparewiththoseIamspeakingof。IhavefishedfortroutinTahoe，andatameasureddepthofeighty—fourfeetIhaveseenthemputtheirnosestothebaitandIcouldseetheirgillsopenandshut。Icouldhardlyhaveseenthetroutthemselvesatthatdistanceintheopenair。

AsIgobackinspiritandrecallthatnoblesea，reposingamongthesnowpeakssixthousandfeetabovetheocean，theconvictioncomesstronguponmeagainthatComowouldonlyseemabedizenedlittlecourtierinthataugustpresence。

SorrowandmisfortuneovertakethelegislaturethatstillfromyeartoyearpermitsTahoetoretainitsunmusicalcognomen！Tahoe！Itsuggestsnocrystalwaters，nopicturesqueshores，nosublimity。Tahoeforaseaintheclouds:aseathathascharacterandassertsitinsolemncalmsattimes，attimesinsavagestorms;aseawhoseroyalseclusionisguardedbyacordonofsentinelpeaksthatlifttheirfrostyfrontsninethousandfeetabovethelevelworld;aseawhoseeveryaspectisimpressive，whosebelongingsareallbeautiful，whoselonelymajestytypestheDeity！

Tahoemeansgrasshoppers。Itmeansgrasshoppersoup。ItisIndianandsuggestiveofIndians。TheysayitisPaiute——possiblyitisDigger。I

amsatisfieditwasnamedbytheDiggers——thosedegradedsavageswhoroasttheirdeadrelatives，thenmixthehumangreaseandashesofboneswithtarand"gaum"itthickallovertheirheadsandforeheadsandears，andgocaterwaulingaboutthehillsandcallitmourning。Thesearethegentrythatnamedthelake。

PeoplesaythatTahoemeans"silverlake"——"limpidwater"——"fallingleaf。"Bosh。Itmeansgrasshoppersoup，thefavoritedishoftheDiggertribe，——andofthePaiutesaswell。Itisn\'tworthwhile，inthesepracticaltimes，forpeopletotalkaboutIndianpoetry——thereneverwasanyinthem——exceptintheFenimoreCooperIndians。Buttheyareanextincttribethatneverexisted。IknowtheNobleRedMan。IhavecampedwiththeIndians;

Ihavebeenonthewarpathwiththem，takenpartinthechasewiththem——forgrasshoppers;helpedthemstealcattle;Ihaveroamedwiththem，scalpedthem，hadthemforbreakfast。IwouldgladlyeatthewholeraceifIhadachance。

ButIamgrowingunreliable。Iwillreturntomycomparisonofthelakes。

ComoisalittledeeperthanTahoe，ifpeopleheretellthetruth。Theysayitiseighteenhundredfeetdeepatthispoint，butitdoesnotlookadeadenoughblueforthat。Tahoeisonethousandfivehundredandtwenty—fivefeetdeepinthecenter，bythestategeologist\'smeasurement。Theysaythegreatpeakoppositethistownisfivethousandfeethigh，butIfeelsurethatthreethousandfeetofthatstatementis——agoodhonestlie。

Thelakeisamilewidehereandmaintainsat>outthatwidthfromthispointtoitsnorthernextremity——whichisdistantsixteenmiles，fromheretoitssouthernextremity——sayfifteenmiles——itisnotoverhalfamilewideinanyplace，Ishouldthink。Itssnow—cladmountainsonehearssomuchaboutareonlyseenoccasionally，andtheninthedistance，theAlps。

Tahoeisfromtentoeighteenmileswide，anditsmountainsshutitinlikeawall。Theirsummitsareneverfreefromsnowtheyearround。Onethingaboutitisverystrange:itneverhasevenaskimoficeuponitssurface，althoughlakesinthesamerangeofmountains，lyinginalowerandwarmertemperature，freezeoverinwinter。

Itischeerfultomeetashipmateintheseout—of—the—wayplacesandcomparenoteswithhim。Wehavefoundoneofourshere——anoldsoldierofthewar，whoisseekingbloodlessadventuresandrestfromhiscampaignsinthesesunnylands。*

*ColonelJ。HeronFoster，editorofaPittsburghjournal，andamostestimablegentleman。AsthesesheetsarebeingpreparedforthepressI

ampainedtolearnofhisdeceaseshortlyafterhisreturnhome——M。T。

Chapter21

WEvoyagedbysteamerdowntheLagodiLecco，throughwildmountainscenery，andbyhamletsandvillas，anddisembarkedatthetownofLecco。

Theysaiditwastwohours，bycarriagetotheancientcityofBergamo，andthatwewouldarrivethereingoodseasonfortherailwaytrain。Wegotanopenbaroucheandawild，boisterousdriver，andsetout。Itwasdelightful。Wehadafastteamandaperfectlysmoothroad。Thereweretoweringcliffsonourleft，andtheprettyLagodiLeccoonourright，andeverynowandthenitrainedonus。Justbeforestarting，thedriverpickedup，inthestreet，astumpofacigaraninchlong，andputitinhismouth。Whenhehadcarrieditthusaboutanhour，IthoughtitwouldbeonlyChristiancharitytogivehimalight。Ihandedhimmycigar，whichIhadjustlit，andheputitinhismouthandreturnedhisstumptohispocket！Ineversawamoresociableman。AtleastIneversawamanwhowasmoresociableonashortacquaintance。

WesawinteriorItaly，now。Thehouseswereofsolidstone，andnotofteningoodrepair。Thepeasantsandtheirchildrenwereidle，asageneralthing，andthedonkeysandchickensmadethemselvesathomeindrawing—roomandbed—chamberandwerenotmolested。Thedriversofeachandeveryoneoftheslow—movingmarket—cartswemetwerestretchedinthesunupontheirmerchandise，soundasleep。Everythreeorfourhundredyards，itseemedtome，wecameupontheshrineofsomesaintorother——arudepictureofhimbuiltintoahugecrossorastonepillarbytheroad—side。——SomeofthepicturesoftheSaviourwerecuriositiesintheirway。Theyrepresentedhimstretcheduponthecross，hiscountenancedistortedwithagony。Fromthewoundsofthecrownofthorns;fromthepiercedside;fromthemutilatedhandsandfeet;fromthescourgedbody——fromeveryhandbreadthofhispersonstreamsofbloodwereflowing！Suchagory，ghastlyspectaclewouldfrightenthechildrenoutoftheirsenses，Ishouldthink。Thereweresomeuniqueauxiliariestothepaintingwhichaddedtoitsspiritedeffect。Theseweregenuinewoodenandironimplements，andwereprominentlydisposedroundaboutthefigure:abundleofnails;thehammertodrivethem;thesponge;

thereedthatsupportedit;thecupofvinegar;theladderfortheascentofthecross;thespearthatpiercedtheSaviour\'sside。Thecrownofthornswasmadeofrealthorns，andwasnailedtothesacredhead。InsomeItalianchurch—paintings，evenbytheoldmasters，theSaviourandtheVirginwearsilverorgildedcrownsthatarefastenedtothepicturedheadwithnails。

Theeffectisasgrotesqueasitisincongruous。

Hereandthere，onthefrontsofroadsideinns，wefoundhuge，coarsefrescoesofsufferingmartyrslikethoseintheshrines。Itcouldnothavediminishedtheirsufferingsanytobesouncouthlyrepresented。Wewereintheheartandhomeofpriestcraft——ofahappy，cheerful，contentedignorance，superstition，degradation，poverty，indolence，andeverlastingunaspiringworthlessness。Andwesaidfervently，Itsuitsthesepeopleprecisely;

letthemenjoyit，alongwiththeotheranimals，andHeavenforbidthattheybemolested。Wefeelnomalicetowardthesefumigators。

Wepassedthroughthestrangest，funniest，undreampt—ofoldtowns，weddedtothecustomsandsteepedinthedreamsoftheelderages，andperfectlyunawarethattheworldturnsround！Andperfectlyindifferent，too，astowhetheritturnsaroundorstandsstill。Theyhavenothingtodobuteatandsleepandsleepandeat，andtoilalittlewhentheycangetafriendtostandbyandkeepthemawake。Theyarenotpaidforthinking——theyarenotpaidtofretabouttheworld\'sconcerns。

Theywerewerenotrespectablepeople——theywerenotworthypeople——theywerenotlearnedandwiseandbrilliantpeople——butintheirbreasts，alltheirstupidliveslong，restethapeacethatpassethunderstanding！Howcanmen，callingthemselvesmen，consenttobesodegradedandhappy。

Wewhiskedbymanyagrayoldmedievalcastle，cladthickwithivythatswungitsgreenbannersdownfromtowersandtur—retswhereoncesomeoldCrusader\'sflaghadfloated。Thedriverpointedtooneoftheseancientfortresses，andsaid，（Itranslate）:

"Doyouseethatgreatironhookthatprojectsfromthewalljustunderthehighestwindowintheruinedtower？"

Wesaidwecouldnotseeitatsuchadistance，buthadnodoubtitwasthere。

"Well，"hesaid;"thereisalegendconnectedwiththatironhook。Nearlysevenhundredyearsago，thatcastlewasthepropertyofthenobleCountLuigiGennaroGuidoAlphonsodiGenova——"

"Whatwashisothername？"saidDan。

"Hehadnoothername。ThenameIhavespokenwasallthenamehehad。

Hewasthesonof——"

"Poorbuthonestparents——thatisallright——nevermindtheparticulars——goonwiththelegend。"THELEGEND。Well，then，alltheworld，atthattime，wasinawildexcitementabouttheHolySepulchre。AllthegreatfeudallordsinEuropewerepledgingtheirlandsandpawningtheirplatetofitoutmen—at—armssothattheymightjointhegrandarmiesofChristendomandwinrenownintheHolyWars。