fronting, rigid, painfully conscientious in the
matter of keeping their blue or red-booted feet
at the same angle, heel to heel. They speak in
a high pitched strained voice, and raise their
arms stiffly at certain rhetorical points in the
jingling measure. They have been laboriously
and assiduously drilled in every turn of the
hand, every glance of the eye, every inflection
of the voice. The sole good resulting, is, that
they are one and all distinct and audible in
their speech. Nay, perhaps, that may not be
the sole good resulting; seeing that they are
peasant children, ignorant, awkward, uncouth, in
their every-day demeanour, one other excellent
result of the pains bestowed upon them has been
to suppress a great deal in voice, manner, and
gesture, which would otherwise have proved
offensive or ludicrous. Even as it is, it is
curious to observe how the natural inequalities
of intelligence among these girls reveal
themselves unmistakeably. One little maid, the
last of the line, and consequently one of the
smallest children there, recites her verse when
it comes to her turn, with a fervour and feeling
that break through the parrot stiffness and
uniformity. True, she raises her eyes, and
stretches her arms, and clasps her little hands
precisely as her instructor has bidden her to do.
But the difference between this little one and
her companions is, that whilst with them every
gesture appears to be caused from without, as
though an invisible wire pulled them hither and
thither, her Iimbs are manifestly moved by some
spirit within.

Next in order come the tableaux vivants.
Of these it may be said that the grouping is
almost always picturesque and good, and that
the costumes are very fairly accurate—with
one very notable exception; a king Ahasuerus,
whose Turkish trousers and preposterous
turban are not to be contemplated with gravity.
The performers, if not especially graceful, are
commendably still and firm in their attitudes.
Among the best pictures, were the sale of
Joseph by his brethren (a really pretty
pastoral picture, simple and effective); Manna
descending for the Israelites in the wilderness;
and the boy Isaac laden with wood for the
burnt-offering, ascending the mountain. The
scene of the rain of manna was a very varied
and well imagined picture. There must have
been, at least, two hundred persons on the
stage; and to group these in an effective manner
so as to avoid both confusion and monotony
would have been no easy task for the professional
director of a great theatre. Not to
mention that the materials in the hand of the
latter would be practised performers, well used
to the business of the scene, and not peasants,
artizans, and agricultural labourers.

In the acted drama, the shortcomings of the
actors, their ignorance, their awkwardness, and
their inexperience, were naturally most glaring
and noticeable. But it was also in this portion
of the performance that they gave proof of a
great amount of feeling, imitative faculty, and
good taste arising from singleminded earnestness
devoid of self-conscious mauvaise honte.
One of us had witnessed a religious play many
years ago, in Britany. But there it was defiled
by detestable bucolic buffoonery and ribaldry.
Here among these peasants of North Tyrol all
was grave, simple, serious. The performance
was marked by a startling and audacious
realism; but a realism wholly devoid of
irreverence. The washing of the disciples' feet by
Jesus, the anointing of the Lord's head by
Mary Magdalene, the crowing of the cock after
St. Peter had denied his Master; all were
rendered with matter-of-fact accuracy. To witness
these things portrayed by persons without a
profound faith in them—persons who did not
literally believe in the truth of every detail—
would have been intolerable. As it was,
although many parts of the Passion-Play were
intensely painful, it was impossible to feel
either disgust or contempt. Disapproval we
might and did feel. But the truth is, that
the whole spectacle was invested with the
moral dignity of sincerity. In the little
pamphlet already alluded to, mention is made of
the short, the very short, time at disposal for
the preparation of so great an undertaking.
From the end of March to the beginning of June.
Two short months in which to prepare a drama
that was to last through nearly the whole day, to
employ three hundred performers, to contain
upwards of twenty complex groups, and sixteen
acts, to be accompanied by music and singing,
and to be presented in appropriate costume,
and with scenery and machinery! Add to this
that the actors being all hard-working people
could only assemble for instruction and
rehearsal, on Sundays and holidays, and that in
the first week of April no trace of the spacious
solid wooden theatre had as yet appeared on the
village green of Brixlegg.

The writer of the pamphlet, whose childlike
naïveté, and unaffected admiration for the great
achievements have an old world freshness and
simplicity that remind one of the tone of some
of Shakespeare's characters, concludes thus
solemnly: "Good will, and love, and the trust
that honour would be done to the dear God,
these were the mighty levers which heaved
aside a mountain of difficulties, and brought
the incredible to pass, truly to the honour of
God and the wondering joy of men!" The actors
looked forward with trembling anxiety to the
day of the first performance. And although
they had given proof of the most conscientious
study, the most unwearying labour, and the
purest zeal, yet they relied only upon the
assistance of God. "He will help us," they
would exclaim readily and often. "He will
help us. Otherwise all were in vain."

It was in this spirit that the Brixlegg
Passion-Play was conducted from first to last.
The director, a priest named Winkler (to give
him his due style and title, the Reverend
Co-operator Winkler of Brixlegg) must have gone
through enormous labour in the drilling of his
inexperienced flock. From time to time we,
sitting in our balcony, caught a glimpse of the