Part 15 (1/2)
”The Hereditary Prince of Metten-Barnheim,” said the prince, relieving the countess' embarra.s.sment, and raising his hat.
The drawing-master's delicate tact instantly perceived Prince Emil's generous intention.
”Pardon me,” he said, with a shade of bashfulness, ”I did not know that I was in the presence of a gentleman of such high rank--”
”No, no, you were perfectly right,” interrupted Prince Emil, who was pleased with the man's modest confidence, and immediately entered into conversation with him. He asked various questions, and Ludwig described how he was frequently compelled to get suitable figures for his tableau from the forests and the fields, because the better educated people all had parts a.s.signed to them, and how difficult it was to work with this untrained material; especially as he had barely two or three minutes to arrange a tableau containing three hundred persons.
The countess gazed absently at the motley throngs surging toward the Pa.s.sion Theatre. The fresh morning breeze blew into the carriage. All nature was full of gladness, a festal joy which even the countess'
richly caparisoned horses seemed to share, for they pranced gaily and dashed swiftly on as if they would fain vie with the sun-G.o.d's steeds above. The Bavarian flags on the Pa.s.sion Theatre fluttered merrily against the blue sky, and now another discharge of cannon announced the commencement of the performance. The carriage made its way with much difficulty through the mult.i.tude to the entrance, which was surrounded by natives of Ammergau. Ludwig Gross ordered the driver to stop, and sprang out. All respectfully made way for him, raising their hats: ”Ah, Herr Gross! The drawing-master! Good-day!”
”Good-day,” replied Ludwig Gross, then unceremoniously giving the countess his arm, requested the prince to follow and led them through several side pa.s.sages, to which strangers were not admitted, into the s.p.a.ce reserved for boxes, where two fine-looking young men, also members of the Gross family, the ”ushers” were taking tickets. Ludwig lifted his hat and left them to go to his work. The prince shook hands with him and expressed his thanks. ”A cultured man!” he said, after Ludwig had gone. Meanwhile one of the ushers had conducted the countess to her seat.
There directly before her lay the long-desired goal! A huge amphitheatre built in the Greek style. Between the boxes, which overlooked the whole, and the stage, under the open sky, extended a vast s.p.a.ce, whose seats rose to the height of a house. The orchestra, too, was roofless, as also were the proscenium and the stage, at whose extreme right and left stood the houses of Pilate and Caiaphas, between which stretched the streets of Jerusalem. The chorus was stationed on the proscenium and here all the great scenes in which the populace took part were performed. The main stage, occupying the centre only, as in the Greek theatre, was a temple-like covered building with a curtain, in a certain sense a theatre within a theatre, where the scenes that required a smaller frame were set. Beyond, the whole was surrounded by the amphitheatre of the lofty mountains gazing down in majestic repose, surmounting and crowning all.
The orchestra was playing the last bars of the overture and the surging and hum of the thousands who were finding their seats had at last ceased. The chorus came forward, all the singers clad in the Greek costume, at their head as choragus Johannes Diemer, arrayed in diadem and toga. A majestic figure of true priestly dignity, he moved across the stage, fully imbued with the spirit of the sublime drama which it was his honorable office to open. Deep silence now reigned throughout the audience. It seemed as if nature herself was listening outside, the whispering morning breeze held its breath, and not a single bird-note was heard. The repose of the Sabbath spread its wings protectingly over the whole scene, that nothing should disturb this consecrated mood.
As the stately figures advanced wearing their costly robes with as much dignity as if they had never been clad in any other garments, or would be forced again to exchange them for the coa.r.s.e torn blouse of toil; as they began to display the art acquired with such self-sacrificing devotion after a wearisome day of labor, and the choragus in the purest, n.o.blest intonation began the first lines:
”Sink prostrate, overwhelmed with sacred awe, Oh, human race, bowed by the curse of G.o.d!”
the countess' heart was suddenly stirred by a new emotion and tears filled her eyes.
”Eternal G.o.d, Thy stammering children hear, For children's language, aye, is stammering.”
In these words the devout lips expressed the sacred meaning underlying the childish pastime, and those who heard it feel themselves once more children--children of the one omnipresent Father.
The prologue was over. The curtain of the central stage rolled up, and the first tableau, the expulsion of Adam and Eve from Paradise, was revealed. Countess Madeleine gazed at it with kindly eyes, for Ludwig Gross' refined artistic instinct was visible to her, his firm hand had shaped the rude material into these graceful lines. A second tableau followed--the Adoration of the Cross. An empty cross, steeped in light, stood on a height wors.h.i.+pped by groups of children and angels. The key-note was thus given and the drama began.--The first scene was before the temple at Jerusalem--the Saviour's entry was expected.
Madeleine von Wildenau's heart throbbed heavily. She did not herself know the cause of her emotion--it almost robbed her of breath--will it be _he_ whom she expects, to whom she is bound by some incomprehensible, mysterious spell? Will she find him?
Shouts of ”Hosanna!” echoed from the distance--an increasing tumult was audible. A crowd of people, rejoicing and singing praises, poured out of the streets of Jerusalem--the first heralds of the procession appeared, breathlessly announcing His approach.
An indescribable fear overpowered the countess--but it now seemed to her as if she did not dread the man whom she expected to see, but Him he was to personate. The audience, too, became restless, a vibrating movement ran like a faint whisper through the mult.i.tude: ”He is coming!”
The procession now poured upon the stage, a surging ma.s.s--pa.s.sionately excited people waving palms, and in their midst, mounted on a miserable beast of burden--the Master of the World.
The countess scarcely dared to look, she feared the dismounting, which might shock her aesthetic sense. But lightly as a thought, with scarcely a movement, he had already slipped from the animal, not one of the thousands saw how.
”It is he!” Madeleine's brain whirled, an unspeakable joy overwhelmed her: ”When shall I behold thee face to face!” her own words, spoken the evening before, rang in her ears and--the realization was standing before her.
”The Christ!”--a thrill of reverence stirred the throng. Aye, it was He, from head to foot! He had not uttered a word, yet all hearts sank conquered at his feet. Aye, that was the glance, the dignity, the calmness of a G.o.d! That was the soul which embraced and cherished a world--that was the heart of love which sacrificed itself for man--died upon the cross.
Now the lips parted and, like an airy, winged genius the words soared upward: A voice like an angel's shouting through the universe: ”Peace, peace on earth!”--now clear and resonant as Easter bells, now gentle and tender as a mother's soothing song beside the bed of her sick child. ”Source of love--thou art He!”
Mute, motionless, as if transfigured, the countess gazed at the miracle--and with her thousands in the same mood. But from her a secret bond stretched to him--from her alone among the thousands--a prophetic, divine bond, woven by their yearning souls on that night after she had beheld the face from which the G.o.d so fervently implored now smiled consent.
The drama pursued its course.
Christ looked around and perceived the traders with their wares, and the tables of the money-changers in the court of the temple. As cloud after cloud gradually rises in the blue sky and conceals the sun, n.o.ble indignation darkened the mild countenance, and the eyes flashed with a light which reminded Helios, watching above, of the darts of Zeus.
”My House,” saith the Lord, ”shall be called a house of prayer, but ye have made it a den of thieves!” And as though His wrath was a power, which emanating from Him acted without any movement of His, a hurricane seemed to sweep over the stands of the traders, while not a single vehement motion destroyed the calmness of the majestic figure. The tables were overthrown, the money rolled on the ground, the cages of the doves burst open, and the frightened birds soared with arrowy speed over the heads of the spectators. The traders raged and shrieked, ”My doves, my doves! My money!” and rushed to save the silver coins and scattered wares. But He stood motionless amid the tumult, like the stone of which He said: ”Whosoever shall fall upon that stone shall be broken; but on whomsoever it shall fall, it will grind him to powder.”