words of simple dialogue are put into the mouths
of the chief personages, by the compiler of the
drama. Otherwise they speak the language
of the Evangelists. It is to be observed,
however, that in no single instance is any word
spoken by Jesus, save those to be found in
Scripture. He speaks invariably in the texts
with which we are all familiar, and utters no
syllable else. In a spectacle of which the naïve
and audacious realism is astounding, this fact
is significant and worth recording.

But now the wailing music dies away. A
hush of expectancy falls on the audience. Every
face is addressed towards the proscenium. On
to the stage in front of the curtain, step forth
some five-and-twenty girls who represent
angels. They are dressed in white robes reaching
to the ankle, and trimmed with gold tinsel; and
wear a drapery of blue or crimson cloth also
glittering with gold. They have each a golden
fillet round the head, and wear red or blue
morocco boots according to the colour of their
draperies. They are carefully graduated in
size; the tallest—a stout country lass of
apparently about seventeen years old—standing
in the centre to form the apex, whilst the
others range themselves in line across the
proscenium facing the audience, diminishing
regularly on either hand, down to the height
of a child of nine or ten years, who finishes
the line at each extremity. The centre angel
announces the argument of the forthcoming
"representation," and, her speech being at an
end, the chorus of angels divides, half going
to the right and half to the left, so as to
leave the centre of the scene open to the view
of the spectators. A bell tingles, and the
heavy rudely painted canvas curtain rises and
discloses the first picture. It is a complex
one, containing three distinct subjects. On
the right, are Adam and Eve eating the fatal
fruit beneath the forbidden tree. On the left,
is Abraham with uplifted hand about to slay
Isaac, who lies bound upon a pile of fagots
before him. In the centre, is a tall cross draped
with black gauze, which angels surround in
contemplation. For a short time the pictures
remain motionless. The angelic chorus on
either hand point with outstretched forefinger
to the scene. The stage is surprisingly spacious;
more so than in many theatres of European
fame; and very large numbers are able to
move and group upon it without confusion
or crowding. Suddenly, at a signal given by
the soft sounding of a small bell, the tableau
changes. A cherubim with flaming sword
drives forth our first parents, who cower
abashed from his presence. A heavenly
messenger appears to stay the hand of Abraham,
who releases his son and fondly embraces him.
Lastly, the sombre drapery drops away from
the cross, and the surrounding angels fall on
their knees and worship. On this, the chorus
disappear and the curtain falls. It rises again
almost immediately and shows a scene which
displays the whole depth and breadth of the
stage. It represents a street in Jerusalem. The
painting is of the coarsest, but it suffices to
convey the meaning of the scene. The stage at
first is empty, but loud cries and shouts of joy
are heard drawing nearer and nearer. Presently
there emerges a little knot of children clad iii
bright-hued Oriental robes, and bearing long
green branches in their .hands. They are
followed by men and women, old and young, and
by a group of poorly dressed men whom we
recognise as being copied from the conventional
types of the old painters. Peter, with
bald head and reverend grey beard; John, with
long womanish curls; Judas, with red hair
and beard, and yellow garments. More
populace all shouting "Hosanna to the Son of
David! Hail to him who cometh in the name
of the Lord!" And then——; the sensation
is indescribable with which we beheld the
entrance of that meek figure seated on an ass,
before whom the people cast down their
garments and strewed branches in the way! No
abstract conviction respecting the undesirability
of the spectacle, no theoretical objection to the
teaching and spirit of which such a spectacle
was the outcome, could avail to lessen the
profound and almost painfully intense impression
of that moment. None the less—perhaps even
the more—does our objection remain in force.
But the Passion-Play at Brixlegg was intended
to appeal solely to the emotional part of human
nature, and certainly did not appeal in vain.

Jesus was represented as a sad, pale, gentle,
man, with flowing hair and beard, clad in a long
plain robe of a rich blue colour; he had bare
feet bound with sandals, and trod with a
certain simple dignity, very marvellous and note-
worthy, remembering that the representative
was a mere ignorant uncultured peasant. A man
who laboured hard with plough or spade for his
daily bread, and who had required much careful
instruction before his tongue was able to
modify its habitual dialect so as to speak the
words of his part in fairly well-pronounced
German.

After the entry into Jerusalem, came the
driving of the money-changers from the Temple,
and the answer respecting the tribute-money,
"Render unto Cæsar, the things which are
Cæsar's." Jesus with his disciples then left
the Temple, and the chief priests and pharisees
took counsel together how they might destroy
him. The representation ended. with a fierce
cry of "Vengeance, vengeance! We will have
bloody vengeance!" In this the discomfited
money-changers, who had been driven from
the Temple, joined eagerly. And on this the
curtain fell.

Of a performance which lasted so long, and
which contained sixteen of such "representations"
each consisting of rhyming prologue,
dumb tableau, and dramatic action, it would,
of course, be impossible to give a detailed
account in the space at our command. But we
will select a few striking points for description.

First in numerical order comes the angel
chorus. These angels are not very interesting
personages, it must be owned. They stand square-