THE SUNDAY , OREGONIAX, PORTLAND, NOVEMBER 5, 1922
11
CURRENT HAPPENINGS PICTORIALLY PRESENTED BY DARLING
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HEM EMBER EILU.NG OUR O'WNCELJLAR WITH COAL ISN'T ALL WE HAVE TO DO TO GET
ttEADV KOR WINTER.
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THE "PROSPECTS" FOR 1924 ARE ALREADY COMING IN.
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HOW MANY OF US STOP TO CONSIDER AT WHAT A DREADFUL COST OF ANGUISH AND
SUFFERING WE ARE ENJOYING THE! PROTRACTED WARM WEATHER.
WHY THE FAKKER SOMETIMES MAT SEEM DISCONTENTED.
AT THIS SEASON PEOPLE DON'T KNOW WHERE THEIR FENCES ARE AT ALL.
WHERE THE CANDIDATES ARE STANDING.
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N V-iiJlirvS I KCNIC OF THE
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AJHD WlTNDA'VS. toESOav -NEDNriDMS.
THURSDAYS PRitJAVi SATUWOA"
AND SlXPAVS
1
THE MARRIED LIFE OF HELEN AND WARREN
BY MABEL HERBERT URNER.
Gray, Rainy Day Adds to Somber Solemnity of Passion Play; It was all Part of Primitive Life of Village, Yet It was Isolated Mountain Peo
ple Who Inspired Production.
EVERY seat In the great amphi
theater was filled, yet so silent
and reverential the - audience
that the crowing of a cock in a
distant barnyard was curiously distinct.
Four thousand spectators, pilgrims
to Oberammergau from all parts of
the world, awaited with hushed ex
pectancy the opening scene of the
Passion Play.
With a strange sense of unreality,
Helen looked down upon the open-
air stage, beyond which loomed the
bleak Bavarian Alps, the peaks now
shrouded with menacing clouds.
through the night a beating
rain' had drenched the village.
AwaJcened by the downpour on the
cottage roof, Helen had twice stole
to the window to peer through the
rain-veiled darkness, with a word
less prayer that the morning would
be clear.
Up at daybreak In the barren,
primitive room, she was too excited
to worry over Warren's grumblings
at the cold and lack of hot water to
shave.
A simple breakfast by candle
light, and at. seven they joined the
throng tn the muddy road, trudging
through the chill mist toward the
amphitheater.
Now, promptly at eight, with the
last settling stir, came the opening
bars oX ,the overture from the or
chestra in the sunken pit beneath I
the stage.
The chorus of 24i in majestic
Greek, robes, filed out.
Still singing, they moved aside in
a" semi-circle, as the purple curtains
behind them parted on the first
tableau the "Expulsion of Adam
and Eve from the Garden of Eden."
Following this came the first
scene of Act I "A street in Jeru
salem." Helen caught her breath at the
wealth of realism of the stage set
tings. Shouts of "Hosanna" from the dis
tance, and the mob of over 700, wav
ing palms, heralded "Shrist's en
trance into Jerusalem."
The rabble parted as far down the
street .appeared the small donkey
bearing the figure upon which all
eyes were riveted.
A thrilled stir as the audience
recognized the face familiarized by
centuries of religious paintings. The
same long fair hair, finely chiseled
features, sensitive mouth, and eyes
of compassionate tenderness.
His hands outstretched in bless
ing, with gentle dignity he passed
through the parting multitude, fol
lowed by his disciples.
Helen felt that this scene alone
was worth the journey to Oberam
mergau. It seemed incredible that
these simple peasants, most of them
wood-carvers, could produce so mar
velous a spectacle.
But scene after scene followed, all
masterfully staged, and played with
a sympathy, and reverence that no
dramatic school could have taught. '
So vivid was the pantomime that
Helen rarely referred to the trans
lated text in her hand.
In the temple scene, Christ, de
nouncing the traders and money
lenders, freed the doves exposed for
sale. The birds, set at liberty, flew
out toward the mountains, an exam
ple of the realism which marked the
whole performance.
Mary Magdalene anointing the
feet of Christ was exquisitely por
trayed. The long luxuriant hair
with which she dried the ointment
was her own, for no wigs or make
up were allowed to mar the beauty
and sincerity of the Passion Play.
The last supper, with Christ and
his disciples at the long table, was
di Vinci's famous painting vitalized.
The tension was momentarily re
lieved by a portly cat who strolled
out on the stage, brushed against
one of the disciples, and then trotted
off, serenely unconscious of the
amused consternation that rippled
through the audience.
- Flawlessly presented were the
next two scene Jesus on the
Mount of Olives and ' his lonely
watch In the Garden of Gethsemane.
An absorbing moment for those
Interested in spiritual healing was
where the Nazarene instantaneously
healed the wounded Roman soldier.
It was on Christ's betrayal by
Judas that the curtain fell for the
midday intermission.
For over four hours 4000 people
had been held enthralled. Now re
luctant; to break the spellf they
silently poured from the huge
auditorium.
In subdued groups they walked
back to the cottages for the noon
day meal, served by those who had
taken part in the performance, for
almost all of the villagers were in
the play..
"Dear, how could they do it? How
could these simple mountain people
produce that play?" marveled Helen
as they filed along the rain-soaked
path.
"Look out for that puddle!"
gruffed Warren, ignoring her ques
tion. . Plainlyhe did not want to dis
cuss the play. ,. As always when
deeply stirred he took refuge in
silence. -
Even at luncheon the conversa
tion was subdued. The only one in
clined to talk was a voluble woman
journalist, an American, who had
witnessed the performance last
week and had stayed over for addi
tional atmosphere.
She told of her introduction to
Anton Lang, the Christus, and of
his simplicity and reserve. How he
secluded himself before and after
the play. These two hours at mid
day he spent in prayer' in his bare
dressing room, to be better fitted
for the ordeal of the afternoon.
The doctor from Philadelphia, who
sat opposite Warren, spoke of the
physical endurance needed for the
crucifixion. The 20 minutes sus
pended from the cross was a peril
ous strain on 'the heart. A medical
journal had. commented on the dan
ger of the circulation being so long
impaired.
After luncheon Helen stole up to
their room to pour over, the trans-s
lated text of the second part. But
Warren soon came up with the dis
cordant announcement that it was
time to "mosey along."
At a quarter of 2 Jhe 4000 spec
tators were again in their seats
awaiting the continuance of the
drama.
Through Warren's field glasses
Helen studied the faces of the chorus
as they again rued out across me
proscenium. Not a trace of paint or
even powder. -
"It must be, this mountain air
that makes their skins so clear. And
what wonderful hair!" for the flow
ing hair of all the women fell below
their knees. " .
"Yes, your beauty parlors with
their skin foods and permanent
waves wouldn't have a look-in
here!" Then, as though his own
slang grated, he nudged her to
silence with a stern "Don't talk!"
Part II opened on Christ's ar
raignment before Annas. Through
the scenes of persecution that fol
lowed, the Nazarene moved with ex
alted patience. 1 .
With sublime forbearance he sub
mitted to the abuse and humilia
tion of the blood-thirsty mob that
dragged him from one tribunal to
another. . 1 ' '
Pilot, warned by a dream of his
wife not to condemn this righteous
man, sent him to Herod. The king
also refusing to sentence him, he
was dragged back to Pilot,who,
yielding to the clamorous mob, re
luctantly decreed his death.
As the cruel decree was pro
nounced a sparrow, encircling the
stage, lit on the stone column by
which Christ, bound with ropes, was
standing.
The curtaips closed on the "Road
to Calvary," 'Christ stumbling on
ward under the weight of the cross.
When the chorus again "appeared
their rich, colorful robes were re
placed by somber mourning.
As they sorrowfully sung the
dirge of the crucifixion, from be-'
hind the curtains came the ominous
sound of hammering. - '
A tremor ran through the audi
ence when the curtains slowly
parted, revealing the prostrate cross
on which was nailed the body of
Christ.
A final spike fastened the in
scription above his head.
The brawny executioners strug
glingly erected the ponderous cross,
planting it firmly between the two
thieves already bound to smaller
crosses.
"When Mary Magdalene and a few
of the faithful pushed their way
through the mob to the foot of the
cross the emotional tension was al
most unbearable.
It was here that a strange thing
occurred. All afternoon the clouds
had been gathering, and now a rum
ble of thunder added to the terrify
ing solemnity.
From out of the-'deepening gloom
came Christ's final prayer. Even in
the foreign language the supreme
words were unmistakable.
When at last the thorn-crowned
head dropped in the limpness of
death, so marvelous was the imper
sonation that his tortured body
seemed to collapse.
To satisfy the rabble that life was
extinct, one of the eoldiers pierced
Christ's side with the spear. The
brutal thrust brought a stream of
blood. At this heart-breaking real
ism, a stifled sob swept the audi
ence. .
It was raining, the very clouds
were weeping when the little group
of mourners, with infinite tender
ness, lowered the Nazarene irom the
cross. ' .
A ladder was placed at the back of
the cross. The cruel nails drawn out
gently, with long strips of linen.
the lifeless body was lifted down
wondrous visualization of Ruben's
"Descent From the Cross."
The Resurrection, wher the sep
ulchre opened and .Christ appeared
to Mary Magdalene, brought a solac
ing glow to the tearful audience.
The Ascension, a remarkable tab
leau, and the swelling chorus
triumphantly closed the marvelous
all-day production.
It was almost dusk when they
came out in the misting rain. -
Once more the thrilled reverential
crowd made their way back to their
cottage lodgings. Tomorrow they
would leave for all parts of the
world, but tonight, while still ttnder
the spell of the play, they would
sleep in the village.
Helen was thankful that this was
so. Eight hours following the life
of Christ made her shrink from an
abrupt return to the outer world.
Warren, striding ahead, was
wholly unmindful of h!s closed umbrella.
She did not ask him to raise it
The emotional lump still in her
throat, she could cot trust her voice
just yet.
Pressing nearer the fence, they
made way for a herd of cows being
driven back to pasture.
The lights were coming out in
the cottages. The moist night air
blew down from the Alps. An 6x
cart" lumbered past. From a near
by barn 'came the clucking dissent
of roosting chickens.
It was all part of the primitive
life of the village. Yet it was these
isolated mountain people who haa
been Inspired to conceive and pro
duce the Passion Play.
(Copyright, 1922, by Mabel Herbert
Harper.
Next week They arrive In Holland.-
Introducing: Himself.
'Tin a little stiff from lacrosse."
"Oh, Wisconsin?"
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