Weekly Mail

ATTHEPASSION PLAY. Acting the Story that Trans- formed the World. |~ 1!Y ZKTCS.] ARTICLE 1. No play, be the subject of it ever so lovely, can presume to take a place by the side of one, the subject of which is the story that transformed the world"; whilst what hero, however sublime and pure an ideal in the eyes of man, can be found worthy to be mentioned in the same breath as the life-giving hero of all time—Jesus of Nazareth? It has been said that- No good was ever wrought Without beginning of good thought," And it would be uncharitable to suppose that the Passion Play at Oberammergau did not originate u of good thought," Still, any- thing and everything in which the Saviour of the World is made to assume an earthly character—as, for example, in a stage play, no matter in how beautiful a manner it may be done-is revolting to the senses of, let us hope, the majority of Christians. Ever since the Passion Play began probably everyone who has taken any interest in it has debated the question, Is it right to perform it or witness it ?" Many who at first vehemently pro- tested are now, it would appear, converts in its favour. Archdeacon Farrar, I have been informed, denounced the whole thing from his pulpit on Good Friday last. He had not then seen the play. He has since witnessed it, and writes in a satisfied tone concerning what he saw. No one who has been to Ammergaucan come away with any other conviction than that, as far as earthly propriety can go, everything is beauti- fully and devoutly done, so far as it is possible to judge from an outside standpoint. It was my privilege to be present at a recent representation of the play, which, being a decennial institution, is made the more attrac- tive. Ammergau is a charmingly situated village towards the frontier of the Bavarian Tyrol. The nearest city is Munich, which is within six hours of the celebrated village. In order to secure sleeping accommodation it is necessary, or at least advisable, to be at Ammergau on the Friday preceding the Sun- day on which you propose to attend the play. Uougbly speaking, there are about 300 bouses in the place, all of which are practically uni- form in size and design, a peculiarity which at once strikes the visitor. The nearest railway station is Oberbr.u. Here conveyances are in waiting, ready to take pilgrims to Ammergau -a two hours' drive. Since 1880. when the play was last performed, a very fine winding road haa been hewn out of a rocky slope, ex- tending a great part of the distance from the station to Ammergau—altogether a romantic drive.Thenew road, doubtless, owes its creation to the Passion Play. As we ascend this roadway, on one side of which is a continuous preci- pice and on the other the steep mountain side, a change of atmosphere becomes apparent, for by the time we reach the highest point prior to descending upon Ammergau it is necessary to assume overcoats, so cold has it grown. As soon as the plains are again reached the air resumes its baking nature, I The effects produced on the skin and consti- tution of the tourist by these sudden alterna- tions of cold and heat have recently formed the subject of some interest- ing disclosures in the Daily Telegraph. Oar destination—the village-is, of course, characterised by much that is foreign to the English eye. We are in a fertile valley, walled in on our left by rocky pine-clad moun- tains, at the foot of which the ground gently undulates, and on the right by grassy hills, i on which sheep are grazing in contentment, close to where He who was led as a Lamb to the slaughter is to be typified on the morrow. Through the centre of the valley runs the Ammer, one of the sweetest little fresh water rivers imaginable. As you walk along- its brink peasant women, in pretty Tyrolese dress, pop in and out of their doors. Numerous little piers jut on into the water, from which the busy house- wife stoops to give the clothes she is engaged: in washing a final dip in the crystalline stream running noiselessly at her door. The scene is picturesque, and a Carlisle artist, the daughter of a distinguished painter in water colours, stops to receive a good impression in order to afterwards work from memory. The stooping woman is oblivious of the interest that is being taken in her. Right above, on the summit of the highest point of the frowning Alpine range, is a cross, the first thing to attract attention on reaching Ammergau, Inquiry elicits the information that when the famine and pestilence occurred, in 1633, the oross was erected as a pledge of the vow then made by a portion of the inhabitants that thenceforth they would perform in every tenth year the Passion of Christ in a saored play. Here, then, we have the origin of the Passion Play aa far as Ammergau is concerned -the thing of all others which is to-day claiming such universal attention. In a huge crevice of a rock the unsuspecting wanderer comes across another novelty. A life-size figure of our Lord has been inserted, and appears as if in the act of walking out of the cave. Here and there, also, on the roadside, in the middle of cornfields, and in aequea- tered spots, are erected wooden shrines, resem- bling finger-posts, containing a crucifix or an image of the Virgin Mary. These are charac- teristics of this part of the world. The whole of the surroundings are in keeping with the sacred character of the entertainment to be witnessed. Let us hope that this out- ward show is a true reflex of the deep reli- gious feeling attributed to the people who are so daring as to pourtray the awful tragedy on Calvary. The wonted quietude of the village has for a time disappeared. Thousands of people from all parts of the civilised world are pouring in. There is a perpetual stream of vehicles, loaded with all sorts and condi- tions of men and women, some bent on pleasure or curiosity, others im-1 bued with a proper feeling of awe. It is evident that the theatre, capable though it is of accommodating,000' people, will be too small, and that hundreds— perhaps thousands—must inevitably be dis- appointed. Our own minds are at ease on this point, as good seats have been secured by our I host, who is Lazarus in the play. It is towards evening, and the roadways aw inoon- veniently crowded, so we betake ourselves to the gently-rising slopes just outside the village. From this elevation the scene brings vividly to mind a picture of Jerusalem with the hills round about. The village-for it is nothing more— although boasting of a burgomaster and a town-hall, is a rudely arranged mass of dwarf- like gabled houses, the root's of which are in many cases kept down by means of large atones placed here and there upon the tiles The whole of the windows have wooden out- side shutters on hinges, and thes< being all painted green, look quaintly pretty. Con- spicuous above all else is the church, with its mosque-like tower. To the extreme left is the theatre, the interior of which is visible, 1 for it is half rootless. Whilst soliloquising here the strains of a bras* band llor.i through the air. Being the eve of a r> presentation of the play, the village band, in accordance with custom, parades the streets after sunset. On our way back to the house of Lazarus we meet and pass Tyrolese men and boys, whose long hair attraots attention. These are they who on the morrow are to appear on the stage. It is quite easy to recognise some of the principal characters, as they have already become familiar through the medium of their photographs. The most striking is probably St. John the Divine, a youth of, perhaps, 20, who is regarded as likely to be the Christus in 1900, should the play then be repeated. He is a Divine-looking young man, his long, glossy hair surpassing in its effeminate sweetness all the others. if his manner in the street is somewhat important, can it be wondered at, when he probably knows that be is regarded as the gem of the play, and that his portrait is to be found all over the world, though he is only a Bavarian peasant boy? Passing on, we see several little fellows of about ten. They tell us, in reply to the inquiry of my linguistic fellow- pilgrim (whose assistance as interpreter is gratefully acknowledged), that they are angels. Then we see, standing on his doorstep, Judas Iscariot, of whom more anon. "Whilst at supper in one of the little restaurants, or, as they are somewhat comically designated in Germany, "restaurations," a busy little man with long hair is flitting about attending upon people. In answer to a question, the waiter says he is Josef Mayer, the Christus. Interest was, of course, awakened, and although there was in the features a little likeness to the portraits, I could not get myself to believe that he was Josef Mayer. Surely the waiter must have misunderstood the question. In an hour afterwards our minds were at ease. He was not the Christus, only one of the chorus, and was apparently the proprietor of the {¡ restanration," where we had just been charged four shillings for two small trout, two shillings for a pot of tea, and a shilling for the little bread and but- ter we ate. Under the circumstances, we were agreeably disappointed to lind that mine host was not Mayer. It is at length ten o'clock, and as the lights in the upper windows suggest that everyone seems to be retiring to bed, we also do so, though reluctantly, as our quarters are-but I will postpone for the present any closer reference to this branch. ARTICLE II. 'Tis Sunday morning. The roar of cannon tells the sleepy that it is five o'clock, the regu- lation hour for rising on the days of the play. It is useless trying to slumber on. A peep out of the little casement proves that Lazurus' wife, our barefooted hostess, last night belied the weather, that lady having foretold a wet day, whereas the morning reveals a cloudless sky, with a sun blinding in its brilliancy. It appears there have been but few dry Sundays at Oberam- mergau during the progress of the Passion Play. The superstitious say that the rain is a Divine protest. To-day is to be evidently one of the driest of days still, there is dis- satisfaction, foi, the dreadful forebodings to be heard on all sides as to the suffocating qualities in store at the theatre have actually provoked a wail because it is not wet Oh the sadness of ingratitude. When at Cook's tourist office in Ludgate Circus prior to leaving England I espied a gratuitous bit of advice written and posted up by a lady, advi- sing intending visitors to Ammergau to be sure and take goloshes in view of mud and slush, "as it is nearly always raining there." Would anyone but a, confirmed spinster be so careful or thoughtful of those to follow ? In a very short time after the cannon have ceased all is again bustle and confusion in the village. At six o'clock the chief players are to attend mass at the Church. Like everyone else, we stroll thitherwards, and find the sacred edifice crammed, chiefly by people who have turned up at the service &s being part of the day's programme. The celebrant is a Koman Catholic bishop who has come to see the play, and whom we encountered last night in the restauration." It is a high celebration, the music being simple and generally effee-, tive, though some of the stops in the organ are so atrociously screechy and out of tune that the singers are not heard to the best advantage. Close to the principal entrance is* the grave of the much-lamented Father Daisinberger, formerly parish priest of Ammergau—the man who, during his lifetime, did much to purify the play. The tombstone is surmounted by a black bust of the deceased, whose memory is cherished by every villager. It is now approaching eight o'clock, and as we walk to the theatre the fruit and other stalls are besieged by people who anticipate hunger! during the performance. The theatre, wherein we are at length j comfortably seated, is a temporary wooden structure, the auditorium being almost square and with a sloping floor, so that everyone can see, provided ladies will take their towering bonnets off. The front portion of the auditorium has no roof, neither has the greater portion of the stage. The only part of the latter which is covered, and apparently permanently built, is the centre—the part concealed in our ordinary theatres by the curtain. On either side of this proscenium are two accessory places, j narrower, but of considerable length, arched over in front and arranged and painted to resemble streets. These have no drop cur- I tains, so that whilst an act is proceeding in what one might call the chief procsenium you have also the by-play of those who, for the present, are not engaged in the primary scene. Then, in addition, there is Pilate's house on the left and Annas house on the right, both of which are approached by a flight of steps,whilst,also adjoining,are pillared corri- dors, used only by the members of the chorus, The prosoenium is, therefore, a sevenfold one, and altogether an arrangement worth copying. The seating of the vast audience is managed without the slightest difficulty or commotion, every seat being numbered. There is no crowding, as only the number of tickets for which there are seats have been sold. The most expensive places are those under cover, tbe prices of which range from ten to five shillings, the cheaper seats being in front, The occupants of the front seats, although being well-positioned for hearing, are exposed to the weather, which is either roasting hot or drenchingly wet and cold. They, moreover, do not get the fascinating view of the hills: behind the stage, which are seen by those in the covered seats, the idea which gives the whole thing its uniqueness and pastoral beauty. Prom ply at eight o clock, and amidst dead silence, the strains of the orchestic are heard. the players, who are concealed somewhere under the front of the stage, are. of course, all villagers. The combination is evident) v small, and of the rudest kind. In a few minutes there emerges from the side cor- ridors the chorus of "2-4—twelve from each side., one-third of which are women. The Nvhole. arrayed in (lowing dresses of the most delight- fill colours, arrange themselves in a ;lightly- curved line across theentire width of the stage, and with the morning sun pouring upon them in its resplendency, the effect is at once fine. The leader of the chorus, who stands in the centre, introduces by means of a recitative, followed by a chorus, the first tableau — viz.. the expulsion of Adam and Kve from Kden. It should be said that during the progress of the piav proper, a magnificent set of tableaux vivants are given,1 the subjects being drawn from Old Testament i history, and embodying events in some way I typical (jl utive of the life of Christ, As the ohorus finish their prologue they t gracefully withdraw themselves to either side of the proscenium whilst the tableau is being shown. Each one is seen for only half a minute. It will be as well to enumerate at once the whole of the tableaux* all of which are introduced by the ohoragu* in the manner indicated. The first symbo- lises the Fall, after which comes the Adora- tion of the Cross the conspiracy to kill Joseph the departure of Tobias (taken from the Apocrypha); the lament of the bride io the Song of Solomon the Court of Aha". suerus wlietTexposing Vas £ ti and welcoming Esther; the gathering of the manna; the return of the spies from the Promised Land; the sale of Joseph; Adam under the curse; Joab's assassination of Amasa preceded by A friendly kiss Micaiah being smitten by Zede- kiah the stoning of Naboth the sufferings of Job; the despair of Cain; Daniel before the King Samson pulling down the temple the bringing of Joseph's coat to Jacob the sacrifice of Isaac the acclamation of Joseph as governor of Egypt; the choice of the soape- goat Isaac carrying the wood to Mounfc Moriah aud Moses raising the brazen ser* pent. These tableaux obviously form a large and very important feature of the entire plaft which, without them. might be performed half the time it now takes-from eight a.m. to about half-past five, the only intermission being an hour for refection at noon. They are veritable living pictures. being perfect specimens of the art. In somd cases, such as in the raising of the serpent, when there is quite a nissi of humanity on the stage, the grouping i* little abort of marvellous, when it is con- sidered that the actors are of the humbte3* of folk. Everything connected with the tableaux is so still that the figures might be taken for wax. There is no doubt that tbi* feature of the production has necessitated most patient study, combined with great artistic taste, on the part of the guiding mind. The first scene is the Temple, wherein are the traders. From the accessory on the leftther* is slowly emerging a singing crowd. Presently we see Jesus in the midst riding on an asS. led by the Apostle John, who carries a long staff. It is the triumphal entry into .Jerusalem. Seeing the desecration of tW Temple, Jesus proceeds to turn ont tbe traders, upsetting their tables and adminis- tering the Well-known rebuke as to their making His house a den of thieves. After long altercation between Christ and the defilers of the Temple, the amazed throng proclaim Blessed be He that cometh in the name of the Lord. Then they are addressed by the priests and Pharisees, who succeed io getting the crowd to believe that He is false teacher, and if they wish to remain the chosen people He must be put down. Thigs of course, they desired, and the crowd who a few minutes ago erlei Hosanna are now clamouring (of I Revenge." The traders whose goods hal" I been upset are promised satisfaction b1 Nathaniel, a leading member of ¡bl Sanhedrim. The next scene exposes the Sanhedrim in council. Caiaphas preside They are all in a state of turmoil over doings of the Galilean. A deputation is announced from the traders, whose case if ably put by Nathaniel. There is a long and tedioos discussion as to the steps necessary tO be taken in order to secure the object of their wrath. At length Dathan undertakes expedite an arrest, as he knows one of 111' followers who, for a sufficient reward, woulcJ, doubtless, give information as to His where- abouts. Good news T They all adjoint exclaiming, ff Praised be the God of Abrah«n»; Isaac, and Jacob," for victory is nigh. The next scene, and, to my mind, the most touching of all, depicts the leave-taking Si Bethany. The Master has foretold bl" forthcoming fate, and they are all sorrowful as well they might be. Arrived at the hoOle of Martha and Mary, we see, amongst othet acts, that roving one in which Mary 96 tenderly pours the precious ointment on head. No one but Judas objects to this extravagance, as he calls it. Jesus calmly rebukes him, by saying, The poor ye always with you, but Me ye have not." ThIS act from beginning to end is so full of tended pathos, intensified by the presence of the holy women, that if there is a dry eye in tIJ:Ø assemblage of 0,000 who are looking upon It that person must surely be destitute of noblest of human passions—love. Who has read the story of the little incident .i Bethany, where Jesus wept over the grave Of Lazarus, can say that he has been able to c10se the chapter without feeling as if his heart were in his mouth ? The act in questio11 has, indeed, proved more than enough for ttko hardest of hearts. Passing on, we see 10 another scene Peter and John ordering | Passover. Mean while, Judas Iscariot h^ j temporarily left his fellows, and we see bif in negotiation with Dathan, who succeeds JfJ bargaining for the betrayal in return for 30 pieces of silver. Then follows another lovelf scene—the Last Supper. All are present including Judas, who, knowing what he arranged to do, sits sullen, and does not stif until he fears his conduct might be notice"- So he, too, asks, Is it Iand upon being indicated as the faithless one seizes the first opportunity to slink off. Later on he is seefl at the Sanhedrim completing his contract I and eagerly receiving the price of blood. ln | striking contrast is the Garden of Getheemeney | which follows, whither the other Apostles hav0 followed their Master, Who, whilst they slumber, undergoes the crux of lils agony. No sooner is it over than .TudaØ appears at the head of the army, to whom be betrays Jesus. The Apostles desert H uU. Now follows a somewhat tedious period during which Jesus is arrainged, first before Annas and then Caiaphas. Meanwhile, wtJ see, in another part of the stage. Judas in th" direst despair, whilst, in the Judginent-bfll, Peter is denying his Master. Succeeding scenes reveal Christ before Herod and Pilate j Judas hanging himself, and the scourging rl and crown of thorns. The whole retinue Of nearly 400 are now outside Pilate's hoose clamouring for his long-delayed edict. The chosen Barabbas is released, and Jesus is, at length, condemned amidst roars of approval* In a few minutes appears the awful procession to Calvary emerging from the right accessor^- Jesus is bearing His Cross, followed by tM jeering multitude. In the left accessory at" His little band of lovers, including the Virgil and St. John. As soon as Mary recognises bef son, helpless, under the weight of Cross, her bitter cry sends a thrill through 6,000 persons. It is excruciating. In If little while the sacrifice has been offered,^ < Christ is hanging on the Cross, together witP the two thieves. The broken-hearted iiiothet and disciples stand gazing afar off, bu* subsequently drawing near. The spearing Of the side looks so real that everyone shudders' at the appearance of blood. in due courØØ follows the descent from the cross and thfJ burial in Joseph of Arimathpas tomb. l'be." the Resurrection, and, finally, a table**1 'w vividly representing the Ascension. Hallelujah Chorus" by the musicians tt ruinates the wonderful performance. ( 7 () be continued.)