T. De Witt Talmage Part 28

The Dowager Empress was full of remembrances of the Doctor's previous visit to Russia, eight years before.

"How did you like the tea service which my husband sent you?" she asked Dr. Talmage; "I selected it myself. It is exactly like a set we use ourselves."

The informal charm of the Empress's manner was most friendly and kind.

"Do you remember the handful of flowers I picked for you, and asked you to send them to your family?" she said.

"You stood here, my husband there, and I with my smaller children stood here. How well I remember that day; but, oh, what changes!"

The Dowager Empress invited us to come to her palace next day and meet the Queen of Greece, her niece by marriage, and her sister-in-law who was visiting Russia just then, but we were obliged to decline because of previous plans. Very graciously she wrote her autograph for us and promised to send me her photograph, which later on I received. We were driven back to the station in the Imperial carriage, where a representative of the American Emba.s.sy met us and rode back to St.

Petersburg with us.

So ended a day of absorbing interest such as I shall never experience again. There is a touch of humour always to the most important events in life. I shall never forget Dr. Talmage's real distress when he found that the sword which he had borrowed from Mr. Pierce, the Charge d'Affaires of the American Emba.s.sy, had become slightly bent in the course of its royal adventure. I can see his look of anxiety as he tried to straighten it out, and was afraid he couldn't. He always abhorred borrowed things and hardly ever took them. Fortunately, the sword was not seriously damaged.

Our objective point after leaving Russia was Ober-Ammergau, where Dr.

Talmage wanted to witness the Pa.s.sion Play. We travelled in that direction by easy stages, going from St. Petersburg first to Moscow, where we paid a visit to Tolstoi's house. From Moscow we went to Warsaw, and thence to Berlin. The Doctor seemed to have abandoned himself completely to the lure of sightseeing by this time. Churches, picture galleries, museums were our daily diet. While in Berlin we returned from a drive one day to the hotel and found ourselves the objects of unusual solicitude and attention from the hotel proprietor and his servants.

With many obsequious bows we were informed that the Russian Amba.s.sador had called upon us in our absence, and had informed the hotel people that he had a special package from the Czar to deliver to me. He left word that he would be at the hotel at 2 p.m. the following day to carry out his Imperial Master's instructions. At the time appointed the next day the Russian Amba.s.sador called and formally presented to me, in the name of the Emperor, a package that had been sent by special messenger.

I immediately opened it and found a handsome Russian leather case. I opened that, and inside found the autographs of the Emperor and Empress of Russia, written on separate sheets of their royal note paper.

We had a very good time in Berlin. The presence of Sousa and his band there gave it an American flavour that was very delightful. The Doctor's interest was really centred in visiting the little town of Wurttemberg, famous for its Luther history. Dr. d.i.c.key, Pastor of the American Church in Berlin, became our guide on the day we visited the haunts of Luther. One day we went through the Kaiser's Palace at Potsdam, where my daughter managed to use her kodak with good effect.

From Berlin we went to Vienna, and thence to Munich, arriving at the little village of Ober-Ammergau on August 25, 1900.

Dr. Talmage's impressions of the Pa.s.sion Play, which he wrote at Ober-Ammergau on this occasion, were never published in this country, and I herewith include them in these last milestones of his life.

THE Pa.s.sION PLAY AT OBER-AMMERGAU

_By Rev. T. DeWitt Talmage, D.D._

About fifteen years ago the good people of America were shocked at the proposition to put on the theatrical stage of New York the Pa.s.sion Play, or a dramatic representation of the sufferings of Christ. It was to be an imitation of that which had been every ten years, since 1634, enacted in Ober-Ammergau, Germany. Every religious newspaper and most of the secular journals, and all the pulpits, denounced the proposition. It would be an outrage, a sacrilege, a blasphemy. I thought so then; I think so now. The attempt of ordinary play actors amid worldly surroundings, and before gay a.s.semblages, to portray the sufferings of Christ and His a.s.sa.s.sination would have been a horrible indecency that would have defied the heavens and invoked a plague worse than that for the turning back of which the Pa.s.sion Play at Ober-Ammergau was established. We might have suggested for such a scene a Judas, or a Caiaphas, or a Pilate, or a Herod. But who would have been the Christ?

The Continental protest which did not allow the curtain of that exhibition to be hoisted was right, and if a similar attempt should ever be made in America I hope it may be as vehemently defeated. But as certain individuals may have an especial mission which other individuals are not caused to exercise, so neighbourhoods and provinces and countries may have a call peculiar to themselves.

Whether the German village of Ober-Ammergau which I have just been visiting, may have such an especial ordination, I leave others to judge after they have taken into consideration all the circ.u.mstances. The Pa.s.sion Play, as it was proposed for the theatrical stage in New York, would have been as different from the Pa.s.sion Play as we saw it at Ober-Ammergau a few days ago as midnight is different from mid-noon.

Ober-Ammergau is a picture-frame of hills.

The mountains look down upon the village, and the village looks up to the mountains. The river Ammer, running through the village, has not recovered from its race down the steeps, and has not been able to moderate its pace. Like an arrow, it shoots past. Through exaltations and depressions of the rail train, and on ascending and descending grades, we arrived at the place of which we had heard and read so much.

The morning was as glorious as any other morning that was let down out of the heavens. Though many thousands of people from many quarters of the earth had lodged that night in Ober-Ammergau, the place at dawn was as silent as a hunter's cabin in any of the mountains of Bavaria. The Ammergauers are a quiet people. They speak in low tones, and are themselves masters of the art of silence. Their step, as well as their voice, is quiet. Reverence and courtesy are among their characteristics. Though merry enough, and far from being dolorous, I think the most of them feel themselves called to a solemn duty, that in some later time they will be called to take part in absorbing solemnities, for about 700 performers appear in the wonderful performance; there are only about 1,400 inhabitants.

While the morning is still morning, soon after 7 o'clock, hundreds and thousands of people, nearly all on foot, are moving in one direction, so that you do not have to ask for the place of mighty convocation. Through fourteen large double doors the audience enter. Everything in the immense building is so plain that nothing could be plainer, and the seats are cushionless, a fact which becomes thoroughly p.r.o.nounced after you have for eight hours, with only brief intermissions, been seated on them.

All is expectancy!

The signal gun outside the building sounds startlingly. We are not about to witness an experiment, but to look upon something which has been in preparation and gathering force for two hundred and sixty-six years. It was put upon the stage not for financial gain but as a prayer to G.o.d for the removal of a Destroying Angel which had with his wings swept to death other villages, and was then destroying Ober-Ammergau. It was a dying convulsion in which Widowhood and Orphanage and Childlessness vowed that if the Lord should drive back that Angel of Death, then every ten years they would in the most realistic and overwhelming manner show the world what Christ had done to save it.

They would reproduce His groan. They would show the blood-tipped spear.

They would depict the demoniac grin of ecclesiastics who gladly heard perjurers testify against the best Friend the world ever had, but who declined to hear anything in His defence. They would reproduce the spectacle of silence amid wrong; a silence with not a word of protest, or vindication, or beseechment; a silence that was louder than the thunder that broke from the heavens that day when at 12 o'clock at noon was as dark as 12 o'clock at night.

Poets have been busy for many years putting the Pa.s.sion Play into rhythm. The Bavarian Government had omitted from it everything frivolous. The chorus would be that of drilled choirs. Men and women who had never been out of the sight of the mountains which guarded their homes would do with religious themes what the David Garricks and the Macreadys and the Ristoris and the Charlotte Cushmans did with secular themes. On a stage as unpretentious as foot ever trod there would be an impersonation that would move the world. The greatest tragedy of all times would find fit tragedian. We were not there that August morning to see an extemporised performance. As long ago as last December the programme for this stupendous rendering was all made out. No man or woman who had the least thing objectionable in character or reputation might take part.

The Pa.s.sion Council, made up of the pastor of the village church and six devout members, together with the Mayor and ten councillors selected for their moral worth, a.s.sembled. After special Divine service, in which heaven's direction was sought, the vote was taken, and the following persons were appointed to appear in the more important parts of the Pa.s.sion Play: Rochus Lang, _Herod_; John Zwink, _Judas_; Andreas Braun, _Joseph of Arimathea_; Bertha Wolf, _Magdalen_; Sebastian Baur, _Pilate_; Peter Rendi, _John_; William Rutz, _Nicodemus_; Thomas Rendi, _Peter_; Anna Flunger, _Mary_; Anton Lang, _Christ_.

The music began its triumphant roll, and the curtains were divided and pulled back to the sides of the stage. Lest we repeat the only error in the sacred drama, that of prolixity, we will not give in minutiae what we saw and heard. The full text of the play is translated and published by my friend, the Reverend Doctor d.i.c.key, pastor of the American Church of Berlin, and takes up 169 pages, mostly in fine print.

I only describe what most impressed me.

There is a throng of people of all cla.s.ses in the streets of Jerusalem, by look and gesture indicating that something wonderful is advancing.

Acclamations fill the air. The crowd parts enough to allow Christ to pa.s.s, seated on the side of a colt, which was led by the John whom Jesus especially loved. The Saviour's hands are spread above the throng in benediction, while He looks upon them with a kindness and sympathy that win the love of the excited mult.i.tude. Arriving at the door of the Temple, Jesus dismounts and, walking over the palm branches and garments which are strewn and unrolled in His way, He enters the Temple, and finds that parts of that sacred structure are turned into a marketplace, with cages of birds and small droves of lambs and heifers which the dealers would sell to those who wanted to make a "live offering" in the Temple. Indignation gathers on the countenance of Christ where gentleness had reigned. He denounces these merchants, who stood there over-reaching in their bargains and exorbitantly outrageous in their charges. The doors of the cages holding the pigeons are opened, and in their escape they fly over the stage and over the audience. The table on which the exchangers had been gathering unreasonable percentage was thrown down, and the coin rattled over the floor, and the place was cleared of the dishonest invaders, who go forth to plot the ruin and the death of Him who had so suddenly expelled them.

The most impressive character in all the sacred drama is Christ.

The impersonator, Anton Lang, seems by nature far better fitted for this part than was his predecessor, Josef Mayr, who took that part in 1870, 1880, and 1890. Mayr is very tall, brawny, athletic. His hair was black in those days, and his countenance now is severe. He must have done it well, but I can hardly imagine him impersonating gentleness and complete submission to abuse. But Anton Lang, with his blonde complexion, his light hair, blue eyes and delicate mouth, his exquisiteness of form and quietness of manner, is just like what Raphael and many of the old masters present. When we talked with Anton Lang in private he looked exactly as he looked in the Pa.s.sion Play. This is his first year in the Christ character, and his success is beyond criticism. In his trade as a carver of wood he has so much to do in imitating the human countenance that he understands the full power of expression. The way he listens to the unjust charges in the court room, his bearing when the ruffians bind him, and his manner when, by a hand, thick-gloved so as not to get hurt, a crown of thorns was put upon his brow, and the officers with long bands of wood press it down upon the head of the sufferer, all show that he has a talent to depict infinite agony.

No more powerful acting was ever seen on the stage than that of John Zwink, the Judas. In repose there is no honester face in Ober-Ammergau than his. Twenty years ago he appeared in the Pa.s.sion Play as St. John; one would suppose that he would do best in a representation of geniality and mildness. But in the character of Judas he represents, in every wrinkle of his face, and in every curl of his hair, and in every glare of his eye, and in every knuckle of his hand with which he clutches the money bag, hypocrisy and avarice and hate and low strategy and diabolism. The quickness with which he grabs the bribe for the betrayal of the Lord, the villainous leer at the Master while seated at the holy supper, show him to be capable of any wickedness. What a spectacle when the traitorous lips are pressed against the pure cheek of the Immaculate One, the disgusting smack desecrating the holy symbol of love.

But after Judas has done his deadly work then there comes upon him a remorse and terror such as you have never seen depicted unless you have witnessed the Pa.s.sion Play at the foot of the Bavarian mountains. His start at imaginary sounds, his alarm at a creaking door, his fear at nothing, the grinding teeth and the clenched fist indicative of mental torture, the dishevelled hair, the beating of his breast with his hands, the foaming mouth, the implication, the shriek, the madness, the flying here and there in the one attempt to get rid of himself, the horror increased at his every appearance, whether in company or alone, regarded in contrast with the dagger scene of "Macbeth" makes the latter mere child's play. That day, John Zwink, in the character of Judas, preached fifty sermons on the ghastliness of betrayal. The fire-smart of ill-gotten gain, the iron-beaked vulture of an aroused conscience; all the bloodhounds of despair seemed tearing him. Then, when he can endure the anguish no longer, he loosens the long girdle from his waist and addresses that girdle as a snake, crying out:--

"Ha! Come, thou serpent, entwine my neck and strangle the betrayer," and hastily ties it about his neck and tightens it, then rushes up to the branch of a tree for suicide, and the curtain closes before the 4,000 breathless auditors.

Do I approve of the Pa.s.sion Play at Ober-Ammergau?

My only answer is that I was never so impressed in all my life with the greatness of the price that was paid for the redemption of the human race. The suffering depicted was so awful that I cannot now understand how I could have endured looking upon its portrayal. It is amazing that thousands in the audience did not faint into a swoon as complete as that of the soldiers who fell on the stage at the Lord's reanimation from Joseph's mausoleum.

Imagine what it would be to see a soldier seemingly thrust a spear into the Saviour's side, and to see the crimson rush from the laceration.

Would I see it acted again? No. I would not risk my nerves again under the strain of such a horror. One dreams of it nights after.

When Christ carrying His cross falls under it, and you see Him on His hands and knees, His forehead ensanguined with the twisted brambles, and Veronica comes to Him offering a handkerchief to wipe away the tears, and sweat and blood, your own forehead becomes beaded with perspiration.

As the tragedy moves on, solemnity is added to solemnity. Not so much as a smile in the eight hours, except the slight snicker of some fool, such as is sure to be found in all audiences, when the c.o.c.k crew twice after Peter had denied him thrice.

What may seem strange to some, I was as much impressed with Christ's mental agony as with his physical pangs. Oh! what a scene when in Gethsemane He groaned over the sins of the world for which He was making expiation, until the angelic throngs of heaven were so stirred by His impa.s.sioned utterance that one of their white-winged number came out and down to comfort the Angel of the New Covenant!

Some of the tableaux or living pictures between the acts of this drama were graphic and thrilling, such as Adam and Eve expelled from arborescence into homelessness; Joseph, because of his picturesque attire sold into serfdom, from which he mounts to the Prime Minister's chair; the palace gates shut against Queen Vashti because she declines to be immodest; manna snowing down into the hands of the hungry Israelites; grapes of Eshcol so enormous that one cl.u.s.ter is carried by two men on a staff between them; Naboth stoned to death because Ahab wants his vineyard; blind Samson between the pillars of the Temple of Dagon, making very destructive sport for his enemies. These tableaux are chiefly intended as a breathing spell between the acts of the drama. The music rendered requires seven ba.s.ses and seven tenors, ten sopranos and ten contraltos. Edward Lang has worked thirty years educating the musical talent of the village. The Pa.s.sion Play itself is beyond criticism, though it would have been mightier if two hours less in its performance. The subtraction would be an addition.

The drama progresses from the entering into Jerusalem to the condemnation by the Sanhedrim, showing all the world that crime may be committed according to law as certainly as crime against the law.

Oh, the hard-visaged tribunal; countenances as hard as the spears, as hard as the spikes, as hard as the rocks under which the Master was buried! Who can hear the metallic voice of that Caiaphas without thinking of some church court that condemned a man better than themselves? Caiaphas is as hateful as Judas. Blessed is that denomination of religionists which has not more than one Caiaphas!

On goes the scene till we reach the goodby of Mary and Christ at Bethany. Who will ever forget that woman's cry, or the face from which suffering has dried the last tear? Who would have thought that Anna Flunger, the maiden of twenty-five years, could have transformed her fair and happy face into such concentration of gloom and grief and woe?

Mary must have known that the goodbye at Bethany was final, and that the embrace of that Mother and Son was their last earthly embrace. It was the saddest parting since the earth was made, never to be equalled while the earth stands.

What groups of sympathetic women trying to comfort her, as only women can comfort!

On goes the sacred drama till we come to the foot-washing. A few days before, while we were in Vienna, we had explained to us the annual ceremony of foot washing by the Emperor of Austria. It always takes place at the close of Lent. Twelve very old people are selected from the poorest of the poor. They are brought to the palace. At the last foot-washing the youngest of the twelve was 86 years of age, and the oldest 92. The Imperial family and all those in high places gather for this ceremony. An officer precedes the Emperor with a basin of water.

For many days the old people have been preparing for the scene. The Emperor goes down on one knee before each one of these venerable people, puts water on the arch of the foot and then wipes it with a towel. When this is done a rich provision of food and drink is put before each one of the old people, but immediately removed before anything is tasted.

Then the food and the cups and the knives and the forks are put in twelve sacks and each one has his portion allotted him. The old people come to the foot-washing in the Emperor's carriage and return in the same way, and they never forget the honour and splendour of that occasion.