the master. But I can not work this miracle. Can those other uninspired

visitors do it, or do they only happily imagine they do?

After reading so much about it, I am satisfied that the Last Supper was a

very miracle of art once. But it was three hundred years ago.

It vexes me to hear people talk so glibly of "feeling," "expression,"

tone," and those other easily acquired and inexpensive technicalities of

art that make such a fine show in conversations concerning pictures.

There is not one man in seventy-five hundred that can tell what a

pictured face is intended to express. There is not one man in five

hundred that can go into a court-room and be sure that he will not

mistake some harmless innocent of a juryman for the black-hearted

assassin on trial. Yet such people talk of "character" and presume to

interpret "expression" in pictures. There is an old story that Matthews,

the actor, was once lauding the ability of the human face to express the

passions and emotions hidden in the breast. He said the countenance

could disclose what was passing in the heart plainer than the tongue

could.

Now," he said, "observe my face--what does it express?"

Despair!"

Bah, it expresses peaceful resignation! What does this express?"

216

The Innocents Abroad