Part 3 (1/2)
In Zwink's conception, Judas is a man full of ambition, but without enthusiasm. He is attracted by the power of Christ, from which he expects great results. But Christ seems to care little for his own mighty works. ”My mission,” he says, ”is not to command, but to serve.” So Judas becomes impatient and dissatisfied. The eager enthusiasm of Peter and the tender devotion of John alike bore and disgust him. So the emissaries of Caiaphas find him half-prepared for their mission. He admits that he has made a mistake in joining his fortunes to those of an unpractical and sorrowful prophet who lets great opportunities slip from his grasp, and who wastes a fortune in precious ointment with no more thought than if it had been water.
”There has of late been a coolness between him and me,” he confesses.
”I am tired,” he says, ”of hoping and waiting, with nothing before me except poverty, humiliation, perhaps even torture and the prison.” He is especially ill at ease when the Master speaks of his approaching death. ”If thou givest up thy life,” he says, ”what will become of us?” And so Judas reasons with himself that he can afford to be prudent. If his Master fail, then he must be a false prophet, and there is no use in following him. If he succeed, as with his mighty power he can hardly fail to do, then, says Judas, ”I will throw myself at his feet. He is such a good man; never have I seen him cast a penitent away. But I fear to face the Master. His sharp look goes through and through me. Still at the most I shall only tell the priests where my Master is.” And thus the good and bad impulses struggle for the mastery, giving to this character the greatest tragic interest. He visibly shrinks before the words of Christ, ”One of you shall betray me.” In the High Council he cringes under the scorching reproach of Nicodemus. ”Dost thou not blush,” Nicodemus says, ”to sell thy Lord and Master? This blood-money calls to heaven for revenge.
Some day it will burn hot in thine avarice-sunken soul.”
But the High Priest says, ”Come, Judas, take the silver, and be a man.”
And when the thirty pieces are counted out to him, he cannot resist the temptation, but clutches them with a miser's grasp and hurries off to intercept the Master on his way through the Garden of Gethsemane.
Meanwhile, after a tender farewell from his mother, Christ leaves the house of Simon of Bethany, and, with his disciples, takes the road to Jerusalem.
The part of Mary the mother of Christ is admirably taken by Rosa Lang.
In dress and mien, she seems to have stepped down from some picture-frame of Raphael or Murillo. The Mary of Rosa Lang is in every respect a worthy companion of Mayr's Christus.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Rosa Lang as Mary.]
The various scenes in which the Apostles appear are modeled more or less after the great religious paintings, especially those of the Bavarian artist, Albrecht Durer. The Last Supper is a living representation of the famous painting of Leonardo da Vinci in the refectory at Milan. Peter and Judas are here brought into sharp contrast. Next to Christ, is the slender figure of the beloved disciple. The characters of the different Apostles are placed in bold relief. We are at once interested in the fine face of Andreas Lang, the Apostle Thomas, critical and questioning, but altogether loyal.
The Apostle Philip looks for signs and visions, and would see the Father coming in His glory from the skies, not in the common every-day scenes of life into which the Master led them. ”Have I been so long time with thee, and yet hast thou not known me, Philip?”
Next comes the night scene in the Garden of Gethsemane on the Mount of Olives. The tired Apostles rest upon the gra.s.sy bank, and one by one they fall asleep. Even Peter, who is nearest the Master, can keep awake no longer. Christ kneels upon the rocks above the sleeping Peter. ”O Father, if it be possible, let this cup pa.s.s from me.” He looks back to his disciples. ”Are your eyes so heavy that ye cannot watch? The weight of G.o.d's justice lies upon me. The sins of the fallen world weigh me down. O Father, if it is not possible that this hour go by, then may thy holy will be done.”
Suddenly a great tumult is heard. The faint light of the morning is reflected from the clanging armor and from glittering spears. The Apostles are rudely awakened. Judas comes forth and greets the Master with a kiss. At this signal, the Master is seized by the soldiers and roughly bound. Then he is carried away, first to Annas, and afterwards to the house of Caiaphas.
Of the scenes that immediately follow, the most striking is that of the denial of Peter. Peter, as represented by the s.e.xton of the church, Jacob Hitt, is an old man with a young heart, eager and impulsive. He dreams of the n.o.ble part he will take while standing by the Master's side before kings and priests, but behaves very humanly when he is brought face to face with an unexpected test.
The scenes of the night have crowded thick and fast. The Apostles have been scattered by the soldiers. The Master had been bound, and carried away they know not whither. Peter had tried to defend him, but was told to ”put away his useless sword.” In forlorn agony Peter and John wander about in the dark, seeking news of Jesus. They meet a servant who tells them that he has been carried before the High Priest, and that the whole brood of his followers is to be rooted out.
Near the house of the High Priest Annas we see a sort of inn occupied by rough soldiers. The night is damp and cold. A maid has kindled a fire in the courtyard, and Peter approaches it to warm his hands, and, if possible, to gain some further news of the Master. He hears the soldiers talking of Malchus, one of their number who had had his ear cut off. They boast of what they will do with the culprit, if he should ever fall into their power. ”An ear for an ear,” he hears them say. Suddenly the maid turns towards Peter and says, ”Yes, you, surely you were with the Nazarene Jesus.” Peter hesitates. Should he confess, he would have his own ears cut off, an ear for an ear--and most likely his head, too, while his body would be thrown out on the rubbish heap behind the inn. Peter had said that he would die for the Master; and so he would on the field of battle, or in any way where he might have a glorious death. He would die for the Master, but not then and there. The death of a martyr has its pleasures, no doubt, but not the death of a dog.
While Peter stood thus considering these matters, one and then another of the servants insisted that he had surely been seen with the Nazarene Jesus. Again and again Peter refused all knowledge of the Master.
When the c.o.c.k crew once more he had denied his Master thrice. While Peter still insisted, the door opened and the Master came forth under the High Priest's sentence of death. ”And the Lord turned and looked upon Peter, and Peter went out and wept bitterly.” ”Oh, Master,” he says in the play:
”Oh, Master, how have I fallen!
I have denied thee, how can it be possible?
Three times denied thee! Oh, thou knowest, Lord, I was resolved to follow thee to death.”
Meanwhile Judas hears the story of what has happened. He is at once filled with agony and remorse, for he had not expected it. He was sure that the great power of the Master would bring him through safely at last. In helpless agony, he rushes before the Council and makes an ineffective protest. ”No peace for me forevermore; no peace for you,”
he says. ”The blood of the innocent cries aloud for justice.” He is repulsed with cold indifference. ”Will it or not,” says the High Priest, ”he must die, and it would be well for thee to look out for thyself.”
In fury he cries out, ”If he dies, then am I a traitor. May ten thousand devils tear me in pieces! Here, ye bloodhounds, take back your curse!” And flinging the blood-money at the feet of the priests, he flies from their presence, pursued by the specter of his crime.
The next scene shows us the field of blood--a wind-swept desert, with one forlorn tree in the foreground. We see the wretched Judas before the tree. He tears off his girdle, ”a snake,” he calls it, and places it about his neck, snapping off a branch of the tree in his haste to fasten it. ”Here, accursed life, I end thee; let the most miserable of all fruit hang upon this tree.” In the action we feel that Judas is not so much wicked as weak. He has little faith and little imagination, and his folly of avarice hurries him into betrayal. Those who see the play feel as the actors feel, that Christ knows the weakness of man. He would have forgiven Judas, just as he forgave Peter.
In the early morning Christ is brought before Pontius Pilate. The Roman governor, admirably represented by Thomas Rendl, appears in the balcony and talks down to Caiaphas, who sends up his accusations from the street below. His clear sense of justice makes Pilate at first more than a match for the conspirators. With magnificent scorn he tells Caiaphas that he is ”astounded at his sudden zeal for Caesar.”
Of Christ he says: ”He seems to me a wise man--so wise that these dark men cannot bear the light from his wisdom.” Learning that Jesus is from Galilee, he throws the whole matter into the hands of Herod, the governor of that province.