Vermilion School of Agriculture - Yearbook (Vermilion, Alberta Canada)

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Oberammergau By W. G. Malaher in a level valley on the northern fringe of the great mass of mountains which separate the flat lands of Germany from the plains of Italy, nestled under the shade of the surrounding hills, lies the homely, simple unspoiled village of Oberammergau. Like others who had been attracted to this picturesque Bavarian village I must confess that it was largely curiosity which drew me there one bright, warm day last August. Yet not altogether curiosity, for with it was a genuine desire to witness a per¬ formance which was being warmly discussed throughout the whole of Christendom, -a per¬ formance which, save for a few interruptions due to war, has been given regularly for the past three hundred years. For bringing me to Oberammergau I feel grateful to Casper Schisler. Poor Casper Schisler! He deserves well of posterity although he played a scurvy trick on his contemporaries for which the fates promptly exacted capital punishment. The story is a long one, yet you must know that Casper Schisler was a humble laborer of Oberammergau just about the time the Pilgrim Fathers settled in America. As one of the remote consequences of a thirty years’ war a great plague was ravaging Bavaria, scattering death in its wake. Ober¬ ammergau had been spared this visitation, yet not for long; for, urged by a natural desire to see his wife and children, this good man who was working in the plague striken village of Eschenlohe, evaded the quarantine and brought death upon himself and his fellow men. Helpless in their plight, the villagers assembled to discuss the situation and it was then that a vow was made, in token of their penitence, to hold a Passion Play in the village every ten years. From that moment, the chronicler tells us, the hand of death was stayed. It remained, later, for the parish priest. Daisem- berger, a born dramatist who saw the opportunity the performance offered, to strip the play of all that was farcial, and to produce a wonderfully faithful dramatic rendering of the Gospel Story. So much I learn from the trusty guide book as, in a wooden-seated compartment, we rattle and jerk along the fifteen miles that separate Murneau from Oberammergau. As we step out onto the platform, we feel, those of us who have not been here before, that we have set foot in another world, that we are living in another age. On every side of us, ready to carry our baggage to its destination, are men and youths whose long hair and beards strike us as curiously archaic. Custom decrees that none shall cut the hair or beard, and Nature has fashioned in these hardy Tyrolese mountaineers a type that is made all the more striking by their flowing locks. We seem to see in them already the Bible characters of old. As we pass through the main street all is astir in preparation for the morrow. The train has emptied its load of visitors who are finding their way to their billets for the night. Already the village has cast its spell upon us. We are tempted to linger and admire the clean white houses with their painted fronts and richly carved exteriors, to eye with envy these stalwart mountaineers as in their picturesque costume they stroll laughing down the street. Yet our good Bavarian friend has others to care for and we must hasten on. We are fortunate for we are to stay at the Pension Alois Lang who plays the part of Christus. A welcome awaits us here and it is not long before we are enjoying a meal the like of which, I venture to say, only the good housewife of Oberammergau knows how to prepare. A fine type of man, our host, hospitable, re¬ fined, proud of his home, his occupation, his village. And with good reason. Indeed, the student of social economics might do worse than observe how life goes on with the villagers of Oberammergau. They are more like the Swiss than Germans and have most of the characteristics of the mountaineers, who, whether they be called Swiss or Tyrolese, are one of the most respectworthy species of the human race. The traditional art of the village is woodcarving, and our host is a master carver. Apart from his profession his most beloved hobby, and one of which he loves to talk, is the keeping of bees. Isolation begets independence and this little community develops the most simple and sound system of democratic government. Nearly every man is a landowner, the poorest with about three acres and the richest about sixty. But over and above that they have the inestimable privilege of pasturage on the Alp. Talk about three acres and a cow! That ideal has been more than realized ever so long at Oberammergau. Never was there such a place for cows. The population is not more than 1600, but among them they own more than 600-700 cows. Thus they make a living; but the one event for which they live is the Passion Play. It is said that these people keep on talking for five years of the play that is past and for an¬ other five years of the play that is to come. Be this as it may, innumerable are the preparations necessary before the play is ready for present¬ ation. In order to keep the players in practice, a play is performed each year on a stage that is specially designed for that purpose. About two years before the performance all the citizens are called to the communal council where the mayor reminds them of their sacred vow. Now is the time when life in Oberammergau gets busier every day, the time when the whole village is in readiness for the big event which concerns so many: The Election of the Performers. Altogether 685 persons take part in the play and actually come on to the stage. Of these 125 speaking roles have to be elected. Naturally, it is the repu tation of the candidate that weighs heavily but no less im¬ portant is a good figure, a gocd audible voice, and a pronounced talent for impersonating. It is a point of honor to obtain one of the great roles and the prospect serves, during the course of many years, as a moral guide to the majority of young folk. Yet there is a wide choice of suit¬ able performers among that little group of artists for they have been accustomed to plays and recitations since childhocd, they have been brought up in the atmosphere of the play, and they have developed a [ Page ten ]

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ove for self-expression which is, in truth, a part of their very nature. Small wonder, then, that we find in our host a man with poise, dignity and charm, for has not the greatest honor that it is possible to confer been conferred on him? Time is precious and, supper over, we set forth on foot to explore this village which has so much to offer us. The streets are crowded, mostly with American and English visitors. The villagers themselves, accustomed to this periodical invasion from the outside world, seem little disturbed by it. Still more visitors arrive by bus and we begin to wonder where they will find a home for the night. The difficulty is apparently solved, for by I I o’clock the streets are almost deserted. People have gone to bed. We follow, for a full day is ahead of us; the performance is to start at 8 o’clock. It is not difficult to find the theatre. It stands at the far end of the town in the Passion meadow. As we view it for the fi rst time we wonder what the villagers of 1600 A.D. would have thought of this massive building, accustomed as they were to performing the play in the church itself and in the churchyard. Indeed, it was not until about the year 1830 that the play was held in a rough open air theatre on the present site. No makeshift building this, but commodious, well planned, and so designed that any one of the five thousand people in it can follow the play without difficulty. The stage itself represents the city of Jerusalem. On either side stand the houses of Pilate and Herod with broad steps leading up to them, and in the centre, the covered middle stage designed to house the living pictures as well as those scenes which take place in a closed room. Between the spectators and the fore-stage is placed the orchestra. Save for the central portion, the stage is open so that above the streets of Jerusalem the blue sky appears, and the forests of Kirchegg and Mount Horndle for a back¬ ground the rugged natural beauty of which gives a most impressive setting. There is a chill to the early morning air, and, with a four hour sitting ahead of us (the whole play lasts eight hours with a two hour interval for lunch), we wrap our rugs closely around us. It is eight o’clock. One by one the chorus file onto the stage and take up their places on either side, leaving the central stage exposed to view. There are twenty-six female and nineteen male singers and, but for the difference in stature, it is difficult at a distance to tell them apart. With the chorus is Anton Lang, the impersonator of Christ for the past two decades, who during the 1930 performance is to speak the prologue. After a short prelude the curtain is drawn aside and the first of the twenty-four tableaux which occur at the beginning of each act, is before us. It is emblematic of the Fall of Man and shows the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden. As in many of the tableaux which follow, the figures are so motionless that we can scarcely believe them to be living men and women. The Prologue, a second tableau, and then, of a sudden, a noise of singing and joyful acclamation. Down the narrow street past Pilate’s house comes a multitude of people singing “Hosannah to the Son of David,’ and strewing palms in the way of Christ, as riding on the side of an ass’ colt, He enters Jerusalem. How quickly is the scene to change! One by one the incidents in the life of Christ are presented with a vividness and reality that, lor a group of humble artisans, is truly amazing. Every word is spoken in German, but such is the artistic skill of the actors ' , so faithful is their interpretation, so full of meaning is their every gesture, that we have no difficulty in following the English translation of the play. A description of the play and players is, of course, impossible here; indeed, such is not the purpose of this article. Suffice it to mention one or two of the most remarkable scenes in the play. Of these, the two tableaux which foreshadow the Last Supper are marvellous displays of grouping hundreds of persons in a comparatively small space. The first is the gathering of manna in the wilderness; the second the return of the spies from the promised land with a bunch of grapes so colossal as to cause two strong men to stagger beneath its weight. The whole of the stage is a mosaic of heads and hands. Four hundred per¬ sons, including 150 children, are grouped into these two living pictures and so motionless are they that you might almost imagine them to be a group in colored marble. In the second division of the play Christ is condemned to death by the High Council, Peter denies his master, Judas distracted by remorse hangs himself in the Potter’s field, and Christ appears in the judgment hall before Pilate who, anxious to be relieved of the jurisdiction sends him to King Herod. There follows a scene that will live in the minds of the spectators long after other details of the play may be forgotten. Of a sudden the city of Jerusalem is in an uproar. Traders and priests run everywhere, crowds muster in front of the Sanhedrin, and finally one tumultuous mob comes pouring down the street to Pilate s house to demand the release of Barabbas and the crucifixion of Christ. Worked up to a frenzied pitch, the crowd with their persistent cries of, “Crucify Him! Crucify Him! ’’ override Pilate who, washing his hands of the matter yields to their demands. As a mass scene this is without parallel; as a climax to the second division of the play it can never be forgotten. The last division portrays the Way to the Cross, the Crucifixion and the Resurrection. Much might be said of the faithful rendering of the part of “Christus’’ by Alois Lang—a part that must call for a very close study of the life of the Master and for great physical endurance. Much, also, of Anni Rutz and Hansi Preisenger who take the parts of Mary and Mary Magdalene with such understanding. In the earlier part of the play, of Guido Mayr who with such dramatic zeal portrays Judas, and of Hanns Lang the youthful impersonator of John. Neither time nor space permits. In the last tableau Christ ascends to heaven. The last jubilant song of the angels, “ Hallelujah, ” fills the hall. The Passion Play is over. ( Continued on page 39) [ Page eleven ]