A Tramp Abroad - The Original Classic Edition. Twain Mark

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ "Bravo, bravo! More thunder! more lightning! turn on more rain!"

       The thunder boomed, the lightning glared, the storm-winds raged, the deluge poured down. The mimic royalty on the stage, with their soaked satins clinging to their bodies, slopped about ankle-deep in water, warbling their sweetest and best, the fiddlers under the eaves of the

       stage sawed away for dear life, with the cold overflow spouting down the

       backs of their necks, and the dry and happy King sat in his lofty box and wore his gloves to ribbons applauding.

       "More yet!" cried the King; "more yet--let loose all the thunder, turn on all the water! I will hang the man that raises an umbrella!"

       When this most tremendous and effective storm that had ever been produced in any theater was at last over, the King's approbation was measureless. He cried:

       "Magnificent, magnificent! ENCORE! Do it again!"

       But the manager succeeded in persuading him to recall the encore, and

       said the company would feel sufficiently rewarded and complimented in the mere fact that the encore was desired by his Majesty, without fatiguing him with a repetition to gratify their own vanity.

       During the remainder of the act the lucky performers were those whose

       79

       parts required changes of dress; the others were a soaked, bedraggled, and uncomfortable lot, but in the last degree picturesque. The stage scenery was ruined, trap-doors were so swollen that they wouldn't work

       for a week afterward, the fine costumes were spoiled, and no end of

       minor damages were done by that remarkable storm.

       It was a royal idea--that storm--and royally carried out. But observe

       the moderation of the King; he did not insist upon his encore. If he had been a gladsome, unreflecting American opera-audience, he probably would have had his storm repeated and repeated until he drowned all those

       people.

       CHAPTER XI

       [I Paint a "Turner"]

       The summer days passed pleasantly in Heidelberg. We had a skilled trainer, and under his instructions we were getting our legs in the right condition for the contemplated pedestrian tours; we were well

       satisfied with the progress which we had made in the German language,

       [1. See Appendix D for information concerning this fearful tongue.] and more than satisfied with what we had accomplished in art. We had had the best instructors in drawing and painting in Germany--Haemmerling, Vogel, Mueller, Dietz, and Schumann. Haemmerling taught us landscape-painting. Vogel taught us figure-drawing, Mueller taught us to do still-life,

       80

       and Dietz and Schumann gave us a finishing course in two

       specialties--battle-pieces and shipwrecks. Whatever I am in Art I owe to these men. I have something of the manner of each and all of them; but they all said that I had also a manner of my own, and that it

       was conspicuous. They said there was a marked individuality about my style--insomuch that if I ever painted the commonest type of a dog, I should be sure to throw a something into the aspect of that dog which would keep him from being mistaken for the creation of any other artist. Secretly I wanted to believe all these kind sayings, but I could not; I

       was afraid that my masters' partiality for me, and pride in me, biased their judgment. So I resolved to make a test. Privately, and unknown to any one, I painted my great picture, "Heidelberg Castle Illuminated"--my

       first really important work in oils--and had it hung up in the midst

       of a wilderness of oil-pictures in the Art Exhibition, with no name attached to it. To my great gratification it was instantly recognized as mine. All the town flocked to see it, and people even came from neighboring localities to visit it. It made more stir than any other

       work in the Exhibition. But the most gratifying thing of all was, that chance strangers, passing through, who had not heard of my picture, were not only drawn to it, as by a lodestone, the moment they entered the gallery, but always took it for a "Turner."

       Apparently nobody had ever done that. There were ruined castles on the overhanging cliffs and crags all the way; these were said to have their legends, like those on the Rhine, and what was better still, they had

       never been in print. There was nothing in the books about that lovely region; it had been neglected by the tourist, it was virgin soil for the

       literary pioneer.

       81

       Meantime the knapsacks, the rough walking-suits and the stout

       walking-shoes which we had ordered, were finished and brought to us.

       A Mr. X and a young Mr. Z had agreed to go with us. We went around one evening and bade good-by to our friends, and afterward had a little

       farewell banquet at the hotel. We got to bed early, for we wanted to make an early start, so as to take advantage of the cool of the morning.

       We were out of bed at break of day, feeling fresh and vigorous, and took a hearty breakfast, then plunged down through the leafy arcades of the Castle grounds, toward the town. What a glorious summer morning it was, and how the flowers did pour out their fragrance, and how the birds did sing! It was just the time for a tramp through the woods and mountains.

       We were all dressed alike: broad slouch hats, to keep the sun off; gray knapsacks; blue army shirts; blue overalls; leathern gaiters buttoned tight from knee down to ankle; high-quarter coarse shoes snugly laced.

       Each man had an opera-glass, a canteen, and a guide-book case slung over his shoulder, and carried an alpenstock in one hand and a sun-umbrella

       in the other. Around our hats were wound many folds of soft white muslin, with the ends hanging and flapping down our backs--an idea brought from the Orient and used by tourists all over Europe. Harris

       carried the little watch-like machine called a "pedometer," whose

       office is to keep count of a man's steps and tell how far he has walked. Everybody stopped to admire our costumes and give us a hearty "Pleasant march to you!"

       82

       When we got downtown I found that we could go by rail to within five

       miles of Heilbronn. The train was just starting, so we jumped aboard and went tearing away in splendid spirits. It was agreed all around that we

       had done wisely, because it would be just as enjoyable to walk DOWN the

       Neckar as up it, and it could not be needful to walk both ways. There

       were some nice German people in our compartment. I got to talking some pretty private matters presently, and Harris became nervous; so he

       nudged me and said:

       "Speak in German--these Germans may understand English."

       I did so, it was well I СКАЧАТЬ