"Herr Freyer--I am extremely sorry, and can understand how it must wound you, yet you must see yourself that we cannot instantly give a man who voluntarily, not to say _wilfully_, deserted us and remained absent so long that he has become a stranger, the most important part in the Play when want forces him to again seek a livelihood in Ammergau."

"I am become a stranger because I remained absent ten years? May G.o.d forgive you, Herr Burgomaster. We must both render an account to Him of our fulfilment of His sacred mission--He will then decide which of us treasured His image more deeply in his heart--you here--or I in the world outside."

"That is very beautiful and sounds very n.o.ble--but, Herr Freyer, you _prove_ nothing by your appeal to G.o.d, He is patient and the day which must bring this decision is, I hope, still far distant from you and myself!"

"It is perhaps nearer to me than you suppose, Herr Burgomaster!"

"Such phrases touch women, but not men, Herr Freyer!"

Freyer straightened himself like a bent bush which suddenly shakes off the snow that burdened it. "I have not desired to touch any one, my conscience is clear, and I do not need to appeal to your compa.s.sion. A person may be ill and feeble enough to long for sympathy, without intending to profit by it. I thought that I might let my heart speak, that I should be understood here. I was mistaken. It is not _I_ who have become estranged from my home--home has grown alienated from me and you, as the ruling power in the community, who might mediate between us, sever the last bond which united me to it. Answer for it one day to Ammergau, if you expel those who would shed their heart"s blood for you, and to whom the cause of the Pa.s.sion Play is still an earnest one."

"Oh, Herr Freyer, it would be sad indeed if we were compelled to seek earnest supporters of our cause in the ranks of the deserters--who abandoned us from selfish motives."

"Herr Burgomaster!--" Freyer reflected a moment--it was difficult to fathom what was pa.s.sing in his mind--it seemed as if he were gathering strength from the inmost depths of his heart to answer this accusation.

"It is a delicate matter to speak in allegories, where deeds are concerned--you began it out of courtesy to me--and I will continue from the same motive, though figurative language is not to my taste--we strike a mark in life without having aimed! But to keep to your simile: I have only deserted in my own person, if you choose to call it so, and have now voluntarily returned--But you, Herr Burgomaster, how have you guarded, in my absence, the fortress entrusted to your care?"

The burgomaster flushed crimson, but his composure remained unshaken: "Well?"

"You have opened your gates to the most dangerous foes, to everything which cannot fail to destroy the good old Ammergau customs; you have done everything to attract strangers and help Ammergau in a business way--it was well meant in the material sense--but not in the ideal one which you emphasize so rigidly in my case! The more you open Ammergau to the influences of the outside world, the more the simplicity, the piety, the temperance will vanish, without which no great work of faith like the Pa.s.sion Play is possible. The world has a keen appreciation of truth--the world believes in us because we ourselves believe in it--as soon as we progress so far in civilization that it becomes a farce to our minds, we are lost, for then it will be a farce to the world also.

You intend to secure in the Landrath the cutting of a road through the Ettal Mountain. That would be a great feat--one might say: "Faith removes mountains," for on account of the Pa.s.sion Play consent would perhaps be granted, then your name, down to the latest times, would be mentioned in the history of Ammergau with grat.i.tude and praise. But do you know what you will have done? You will have let down the drawbridge to the mortal foe of everything for which you battle, removed the wall which protected the individuality of Ammergau and amid all the changes of the times, the equalizing power of progress, has kept it that miracle of faith to which the world makes pilgrimages. For a time the world will come in still greater throngs by the easier road--but in a few decades it will no longer find the Ammergau it seeks--its flood will have submerged it, washed it away, and a new, prosperous, politic population will move upon the ruins of a vanished time and a buried tradition.

"Freyer!" The burgomaster was evidently moved: "You see the matter in too dark colors--we are still the old people of Ammergau and G.o.d will help us to remain so."

"No, you are so no longer. Already there are traces of a different, more practical view of life--of so-called progress. I read to-day at Ludwig"s the play-bills of the practise theatre which you have established during the last ten years since the Pa.s.sion Play! Herr Burgomaster, have you kept in view the seriousness of the mission of Ammergau when you made the actors of the Pa.s.sion buffoons?"

"Freyer!" The burgomaster drew himself up haughtily.

"Well, Herr Burgomaster, have you performed no farces, or at least comic popular plays? Was the Carver of Ammergau--which for two years you had _publicly_ performed on the consecrated ground of the Pa.s.sion Theatre, adapted to keep the impression of the Pa.s.sion Play in the souls of the people of Ammergau? No--the last tear of remembrance which might have lingered would be dried by the exuberant mirth, which once roused would only too willingly exchange the uncomfortable tiara for the lighter fool"s cap! And you gave the world this spectacle, Herr Burgomaster, you showed the personators of the story of our Lord and Saviour"s sufferings in this guise to the strangers, who came, still full of reverence, to see the altar--on which the sacred fire had smouldered into smoke! I know you will answer that you wished to give the people a little breathing s.p.a.ce after the terrible earnestness of the Pa.s.sion Play and, from your standpoint, this was prudent, for you will be the gainer if the community is cheerful under your rule. Happy people are more easily governed than grave, thoughtful ones! I admit that you have no other desire than to make the people happy according to your idea, and that your whole ambition is to leave Ammergau great and rich. But, Herr Burgomaster, you cannot harmonize the two objects of showing the world, with convincing truth, the sublime religion of pain and resignation, and living in ease and careless frivolity. The divine favor cannot be purchased without the sacrifice of pleasure and personal comfort, otherwise we are merely performing a puppet show with G.o.d, and His blessing will be withdrawn."

Freyer paused and stood gazing into vacancy with folded arms.

The burgomaster watched him calmly a long time. "I have listened to you quietly because your view of the matter interested me. It is the idea of an enthusiast, a character becoming more and more rare in our prosaic times. But pardon me--I can give it only a subjective value.

According to your theory, I must keep Ammergau, as a bit of the Middle Ages, from any contact with the outside world, rob it of every aid in the advancement of its industrial and material interests in order, as it were, to prepare the unfortunate people, by want and trouble, to be worthy representatives of the Pa.s.sion. This would be admirable if, instead of Burgomaster of Ammergau, I were Grand Master of an Order for the practice of spiritual asceticism--and Ammergau were a Trappist monastery. But as burgomaster of a secular community, I must first of all provide for its prosperity, and that this would produce too much luxury there is not, as yet, unfortunately, the slightest prospect! My task as chief magistrate of a place is first to render it as great, rich, and happy as possible, that is a direct obligation to the village and an indirect one to the State. Not until I have satisfied _this_ can I consider the more ideal side of my office--in my capacity as director of the Pa.s.sion Play. But even there I have no authority to exercise any moral constraint in the sense of your n.o.ble--but fanatical and unpractical view. You must have had bitter experiences, Herr Freyer, that you hold earthly blessings so cheap, and you must not expect to convert simple-hearted people, who enjoy their lives and their work, to these pessimistic views, as if we could serve our G.o.d only with a troubled mind. We must let a people, as well as a single person, retain its individuality. I want to rear no hypocrites, and I cannot force martyrdom on any one, in order to represent the Pa.s.sion Play more naturally. Such things cannot be enforced."

"For that very reason you need people who will do them voluntarily! And though, thank Heaven, they still exist in Ammergau, you have not such an over supply that you need repel those who would fain increase the little band. Believe me, I have lived in closer communion with my home in the outside world than if I had remained here and been swayed by the various opposing streams of our brothers" active lives! Do you know where the idea of the Pa.s.sion Play reveals itself in its full beauty?

Not here in Ammergau--but in the world outside--as the gas does not give its light where it is prepared, but at a distance. Therefore, I think you ought not to measure a son of Ammergau"s claim according to the time he has spent here, but according to the feeling he cherishes for Ammergau, and in this sense even _the stranger_ may be a better representative of Ammergau than the natives of the village themselves."

"Yes, Freyer, you are right--but--_one_ frank word deserves another.

You have surprised and touched me--but although I am compelled to make many concessions to circ.u.mstances and the spirit of the times, which are in contradiction to my own views and involve me in conflicts with myself, of which you younger men probably have no idea--nothing in the world will induce me to be faithless to my principles in matters connected with the Pa.s.sion. Forgive the harsh words, Freyer, but I must say it: Your actions do not agree with the principles you have just uttered, and you cannot make this contradiction appear plausible to any one. Who will credit the sincerity of your moral rigor after you have lived nine years in an equivocal relation with the lady with whom you left us? Freyer, a man who has done _that_--can no longer personate the Christ."

Freyer stood silent as a statue.

The burgomaster held out his hand--"You see that I cannot act otherwise; do you not? Rather let the Play die out utterly than a Christus on whom rests a stain. So long as you cannot vindicate yourself--"

Freyer drew himself proudly: "And that I will never do!"

"You must renounce it."

"Yes, I must renounce it. Farewell, Herr Burgomaster!"

Freyer bowed and left the room--he was paler than when he entered, but no sound betrayed the mortal anguish gnawing at his heart. The burgomaster, too, was painfully moved. His poor head was burning--he was sorry for Freyer, but he could not do otherwise.

Just as Freyer reached the door, a man hurried in with a letter, Freyer recognized the large well-known chirography on the envelope as he pa.s.sed--Countess Wildenau"s handwriting. His brain reeled, and he was compelled to cling to the door post. The burgomaster noticed it.

"Please sit down a moment, Herr Freyer--the letter is addressed to me, but will probably concern you."

The man retired. Freyer stood irresolute.

The burgomaster read the contents of the note at a glance, then handed it to Freyer.

"Thank you--I do not read letters which are not directed to me."

"Very well, then I must tell you. The Countess Wildenau, not having your address, requests me to take charge of a considerable sum of money which I am to invest for you in landed property or in stocks, according to my own judgment. You were not to hear of it until the gift had been legally attested. But I deem it my duty to inform you of this."

Freyer stood calmly before him, with a clear, steadfast gaze. "I cannot be forced to accept a gift if I do not desire it, can I?"

"Certainly not."

"Then please write to the countess that I can accept neither gifts nor any kind of a.s.sistance from--strangers, and that you, as well as I, will positively decline every attempt to show her generosity in this way."

"Freyer!" cried the burgomaster, "will you not some day repent the pride which rejects a fortune thus flung into your lap?"

"I am not proud--I begged my bread on my way here, Herr Burgomaster--and if there were no other means of livelihood, I would not be ashamed to accept the crust the poorest man would share with me--but from Countess Wildenau I will receive nothing--I would rather starve."

The burgomaster sprang from his chair and approached him. His gaunt figure was trembling with emotion, his weary eyes flashed with enthusiasm, he extended his arms: "Freyer--now you belong to us once more--_now_ you shall again play the Christus."

Silently, in unutterable, mournful happiness, Freyer sank upon the burgomaster"s breast.

His home was appeased.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

AT DAISENBERGER"s GRAVE.

It was high noon. The children were at school, the grown people had gone to their work. The village was silent and no one stopped Freyer as he hurried down the broad old "Ausserga.s.se," as the main street of the place was called, with its painted houses, toward the graveyard and the church.

In the cemetery beside the church stands a simple monument with a bronze bust. An unlovely head with all sorts of lines, as if nature had intentionally given this soul an ugly husk, out of wrath that it was not to be hers, that she could not have as much power over it as over other dust-born mortals--for this soul belonged to Heaven, earth had no share in it. But no matter how nature strove to disfigure it, its pure beauty shone through the physical covering so radiantly that even mortal eyes perceived only the beauty and overlooked the ugliness.

This soul, which might also be called the soul of Ammergau, for it cherished the whole population of the village, lived for the people, gave them all and kept nothing for itself--this n.o.ble spirit, to whom the grat.i.tude of the survivors, and they embraced the whole community, had created a monument, was Alois Daisenberger--the reformer of the Pa.s.sion Play.

It is a peculiar phenomenon that the people of Ammergau, in contrast to all others, are grateful only for intellectual gifts while they punish physical benefits with scorn. It offends their pride to be compelled to accept such trifling donations and they cherish a suspicion that the donor may boast of his benefits. Whoever has not the self-denial to allay this suspicion by enduring all sorts of humiliations and affronts must not try to aid the Ammergau villagers. He who has done any _good_ deed has accomplished _nothing_--not until he has atoned for it, as though it were something evil, does he lend it its proper value and appease the offended pride of the recipient.

This was the case with Daisenberger. He bore with saintly patience all the angularities and oddities of these strange characters--and they honored him as a saint for it. He had the eye of genius for the natural talent, a heart for the sufferings, appreciation of the intellectual grandeur of these people. And he gave security for it--for no worldly honor, no bishopric which was offered could lure him away. What was it that outweighed everything with which church and government desired to honor him? Whoever stands in the quiet graveyard, fanned by the keen mountain air which brings from the village stray notes of a requiem that is being practised, surrounded by snow-clad mountain-peaks gazing dreamily down on the little mound with its tiny cross, whoever gazes at the monument with its ma.s.sive head, looking down upon the village from beneath a garland of fresh blue gentians, is overwhelmed by a mournful suspicion that here is concealed a secret in which a great intellect could find the satisfaction of its life! But it seems as if the key rested in Daisenberger"s grave.

To this grave Freyer hastened. The first errand of the returned personator of Christ was to his author! The solitary grave lay forgotten by the world. It is a genuine work of faith and love when the author vanishes in his creation and leaves the honor to G.o.d. The whole world flocks to the Pa.s.sion Play--but no one thinks of him who created for it the form which renders it available for the present time. It is the "Oberammergau," not the "Daisenberger" Pa.s.sion Play.