On Sunday morning we were awakened by the sound of a cannon planted at
the foot of the Kofel, a sharp, conical, towering mountain, some two
thousand feet above the town, and bearing on its summit a tall gilded
cross. It was cold and rainy, but that made no difference with the
audience or the play. At eight o'clock, when the cannon sounds again,
all are in their places, and the play begins. It lasts for eight
hours--from eight o'clock in the morning to half-past five in the
afternoon, with a single interruption of an hour and a half at noon.
The stage is wide and ample. Its central part is covered, but the
front, which represents the fields and the streets of Jerusalem, is in
the open air. This feature lends the play a special charm. On the
left, across the stage, over which the fitful rain-clouds chase one
another, we can plainly see the long, green slope of Ettal mountain,
dotted from bottom to top with herdmen's huts or _châlets_, and on the
summit a tall pine-tree, standing out alone above all its brethren. On
the other side appear the wild crags of the Kofel, its gilded cross
glistening in the sunshine above the morning mists. Swallows fly in
and out among the painted palm-trees, their twitter sounding sharply
above the music of the chorus. The little birds raise their voices to
make themselves heard to each other.

As the play progresses the intense truthfulness of the people of
Oberammergau steadily grows upon us. For many generations the best
intellects and noblest lives in the town have been devoted to the sole
end of giving a worthy picture of the life and acts of Christ. Each
generation of actors has left this picture more noble than it ever was
before. Their work has been wrought in a spirit of serious
truthfulness, which in itself places the Oberammergau stage in a class
by itself, above and beyond all other theaters. Everything is real,
and stands for what it is. Kings and priests are dressed, not in