The sight of
this bunch of grapes, we are told, astonished the children of
Israel. I can quite understand its doing so. The picture of it
used to astonish me, too, when I was a child.
"The scene of Christ's entry into Jerusalem surrounded by the
welcoming multitude, is a wonderful reproduction of life and
movement, and so also is the scene, towards the end, showing his
last journey up to Calvary. All Jerusalem seems to have turned out
to see him pass and to follow him, the many laughing, the few sad.
The people fill the narrow streets to overflowing, and press round
the spears of the Roman Guard.
"They throng the steps and balconies of every house, they strain to
catch a sight of Christ above each other's heads. They leap up on
each other's backs to gain a better vantage-ground from which to
hurl their jeers at him. They jostle irreverently against their
priests. Each individual man, woman, and child on the stage acts,
and acts in perfect harmony with all the rest.
"Of the chief members of the cast - Maier, the gentle and yet kingly
Christ; Burgomaster Lang, the stern, revengeful High Priest; his
daughter Rosa, the sweet-faced, sweet-voiced Virgin; Rendl, the
dignified, statesman-like Pilate; Peter Rendl, the beloved John,
with the purest and most beautiful face I have ever seen upon a man;
old Peter Hett, the rugged, loving, weak friend, Peter; Rutz, the
leader of the chorus (no sinecure, his post); and Amalie Deschler,
the Magdalen - it would be difficult to speak in terms of too high
praise. Themselves mere peasants - There are those two women again,
spying round our door; I am sure of it!" I exclaim, breaking off,
and listening to the sounds that come from the next room. "I wish
they would go downstairs; I am beginning to get quite nervous."
"Oh, I don't think we need worry," answers B. "They are quite old
ladies, both of them. I met them on the stairs yesterday. I am
sure they look harmless enough."
"Well, I don't know," I reply. "We are all by ourselves, you know.
Nearly everyone in the village is at the theatre, I wish we had got
a dog."
B. reassures me, however, and I continue:
"Themselves mere peasants," I repeat, "they represent some of the
greatest figures in the world's history with as simple a dignity and
as grand a bearing as could ever have been expected from the
originals themselves. There must be a natural inborn nobility in
the character of these highlanders. They could never assume or act
that manner au grand seigneur with which they imbue their parts.
