Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1898-12-27


men and young. in their gray and green
costumes and their little hats, trooped
in and occupied the large table near
the inn door. Presently was startled
by the sound Of the xither. They began
to sing songs. The pretty daughter Of
the house came and joined in tho sing.
ing. put down my book.
The old lady who had served me
with my msass Of beer, seeing my in.
terest came over and chatted about her
guests. Oh. no. they were not villagers |;
they came from four hours away. The
slim one was q schoolteacher. and the
dicker was a tenor and sang In the
chorus Of the Passion spiel. The good
looking young man was TO be the st.
John. Passion play prioked up my
ears. When? Where; In their own VII
lage-three days hence-only given
once every ten years-for hundreds and
hundreds Of years Could strangers sec
il: Wha, should strangers want to sec
| il for: But could they see 1t! Gewiss.
This was indeed stroke Of luck. ! bad
always rather wanted to see the Passion
play, but the thought Of the fashion.
, able Obcrammergau made mo sick.
Would l like To BE- vorgestellt! Rather.
1T was not ten minutes after this in
PRODUCTION before had settled To stay
with So. John. and clouds Of good
American tobacco were rising from six
Tyrolese pipes, and many an 'auf lhr
wohl' was busying the pretty Kellner-
inn. They trotted ont all their repertory
Of quaint local songs for my beneft--it
sounded bully, I tell YOU, out there
with the sunlight and the green leave 5
and the rush Of the river-and in this
aroma of beer and brotherhood blessed
my damaged thigh. Three days hencol
Just time for IL to heal. A providenti..i i
world. after all.
"And il was indeed with a buoyant
step and gay heart that set out over
the hills ut sunrise on that memorable
morning. The play was to begin at ~.
and should just be on time. What .
walk! Imagine it! Clear coolnees of
dawn. fresh green sparkling dew, the
road winding up and down. round hills,
up cliffs, along valleys. through woods
where the green branches swayed in the
morning wind and dappled the grass
Enthusiastically with dancing sunlight.
| Aud as fresh ~ the morning was felt
the artistic sensation awaiting me. /
swung round the last hill shoulder, saw
the quaint gables of the first house peep
! ing through the trees, the church spire
rising beyond. then groups Of Tyrolese
converging from all the roads dipped
down the valley. past the quiet lake,
mp the hills beyond. found myself
caught In O stream Of peasants, and,
presto, was sucked from the radiant
day into tho deep gloom Of the barnlike
theater
II don't know how It is done In
Oberammergau, but this Tyrolese thing
was q strange jumble Of art and naivete,
Of talent and stupidity. There was a
full fedged stage and footlights. and
the scenery. some one said, was painted
by man from Munich, but the players
were badly made up the costumes, ii
correct, were i'll fitting; the stage badly
lighted, and the fats didn't 'jine.
Some Of the actors had CLEANS OF artis-
| tic perception. st. Mark was beautiful
70 look ON. Caiaphas had a sense Of elo-
cution, the Virgin was tender and
sweet, and Judas rose powerfully to his
great 20 minutes soliloquy, but the
bulk of the players, though all were
earnest and fervent, were clumsy or
self conscious. The crowds were stiff
and awkward. painfully symmetrical.
like school children ut drill. A chorus OF
10 or i2 ushered in each episode with
song, and man further explained 1t in
bald narrative. The acts Of the play
proper were interrupted by tableaux
sivants of Old Testament scenes from
Adam and Eve onward. There was
much, you see, that was puerile, even
ridiculous. and every now and then
some one would open the door OF the
iusky auditorium and shaft OF sun.
shine would fly 10 from the outside
world to remind me further how un-
real was all this gloomy make believe.
Nay, during the entr'acte / went ont
like everybody else and lunched on
aausages and beer.
"And yet. beneath all this critical
consciousness, beneath even the artistic
consciousness that could not resist jot-
ting down a face or scene In my
sketchbook, something curious was hap.
pening in the depths Of my being. The
play exercised from the very first a
strange magnetic effect on me; despite
oil the primitive humors Of the players.
the simple, sublime tragedy that disen-
gagged itself from their unCouth but
earnest goings OIL began to move and
even oppress my soul. Christ had been
TO me merely theme for artists; my
studies aud travels had familialized me
with every possible conception Of the
Man Of Sorrows. had seen myriads OF
Madonnas nursing him, miles OF Mag
dalenes bewailing him. Yet the sorrows
had never felt Perhaps il was my
Jewish training; perhaps il was that
none of the Christians ! lived with had
ever believed in him. AT any rate. here
for the first time the Christ story came
home TO me as real, living fact; some
thing that had actually happened.
saw this simple son of the people-made
more simple by my knowledge that this
representative was baker-moying
amid the ancient peasant and fisher life
of Galilee. l saw him draw men and
women, saints and sinners, by the magic
of his love, the simple sweetness OF his
inner sunshine; I saw the sunshine
change to lightning as he drove the
money changers from the temple;
watched the clouds deepen as the trage'
dy drew on. ! saw him bid farewell to
his mother; heard suppressed sobs all
around me. Then the heavens were
overcast and il seemed as il earth held
its breath, waiting for the supreme mo.
ment. They dragged him before PLATE
they clothed him in scarlet robe and
plated his crown Of thorns and spat on
him; they gave him vinegar to drink.
mixed with gall, and he 80 divinely
sweet and forgiving through all. A hor.
rible oppression hung over the world.
felt choking; my ribs pressed inward
my heart seemed contracted. He wal
dying for the sins Of the world, be
summed up the whole worlds woe and
pitifulness; the two ideas throbbed and
fused in my troubled soul. And !. .
Jew, had hitherto ignored him. What
would they nay, these simple peasant,
sobbina all around, Il they knew that