hoarseness and every other evil; it would never do for me to imagine that that little song was his best composition; it was merely his first; he must try to read me a little of L'Abuglo, a few verses of Francouneto;' - You will be charmed,' said he; but if I were well, and you would give me the pleasure of your company for some time, if you were not merely running through Agen, I would kill you with weeping,-I would make you die with distress for my poor Margarido, my pretty Francouneto!' "He caught up two copies of his book, from a pile lying on the table, and making us sit close to him, he pointed out the French translation on one side, which he told us to follow while he read in Gascon. He began in a rich soft voice, and, as he advanced, the surprise of Hamlet on hearing the player-king recite the disasters of Hecuba was but a type of ours to find ourselves carried away by his enthusiasm. His eyes swam in tears; he became pale and red; he trembled; he recovered himself; his face was now joyous, now exulting, gay, jocose;-in fact, he wast wenty actors in one; he rang the changes from Rachel to Bouffé; and he finished by delighting us, besides beguiling us of our tears, and overwhelming us with astonishment. tered by this recollection, but soon found it was less on my own account that I was thus welcomed, than because a circumstance had occurred to the poet which he thought I could perhaps explain. He produced several French newspapers, in which he pointed out to me an article headed Jasmin à Londres;' being a translation of certain notices of himself which had appeared in a leading English literary journal. He had, he said, been informed of the honour done him by numerous friends, and assured me his fame had been much spread by this means; and he was so delighted on the occasion that he had resolved to learn English in order that he might judge of the translations from his works, which he had been told were well done. I enjoyed his surprise, while I informed him that I knew who was the reviewer and translator, and explained the reason for the verses giving pleasure in an English dress to be the superior simplicity of the English language over modern French, for which he has a great contempt, as unfitted for lyrical composition. He inquired of me respecting Burns, to whom he had been likened; and begged me to tell him something of Moore. The delight of himself and his wife was amusing at having discovered a secret which had puzzled them so long. "He had a thousand things to tell me ; in particular, that he had only the day before received a letter from the Duchess of Orleans, informing him that she had ordered a medal of her late husband to be struck, the first of which would be sent to him; she also announced to him the agreeable news of the king having granted him a pension of a thousand francs. He smiled and wept by turns, as he told all this; and declared, much as he was elated at the possession of a sum which made him a rich man for life, the kindness of the Duchess gratified him even "He would have been a treasure on the stage; for he is still, though his first youth is past, remarkably good-looking and striking; with black sparkling eyes, of intense expression; a fine, ruddy complexion; a countenance of wondrous mobility; a good figure, and action full of fire and grace; he has handsome hands, which he uses with infinite effect; and, on the whole, he is the best actor of the kind I ever saw. I could now quite understand what a troubadour or jongleur might be, and I look upon Jasmin as a revived specimen of that extinct race. Such as he is might have been Gaucelm Faidit, of Avignon, the friend of Coeur-de-Lion, who lamented the death of the hero in such moving strains; such might have been Bernard de Ventadour, who sang the praises of Queen Elinore's beauty; such Geoffrey Rudel, of Blaye, on his own Garonne; such the wild Vidal; certain it is, that none of these troubadours of old could more move, by their singing or reciting, than Jasmin, in whom all their long-smothered fire and tradi-swered impatiently, Nonsense!-don't you see tional magic seems re-illumined. more. "He then made us sit down while he read us two new poems, both charming and full of grace and naivete, and one very affecting, being an address to the king, alluding to the death of his son. As he read, his wife stood by, and fearing we did not quite comprehend his language, she made a remark to that effect: to which he anthey are in tears? This was unanswerable, and we were allowed to hear the poem to the end; and I certainly never listened to anything more feelingly and energetically delivered. "We had much conversation, for he was anxious to detain us, and in the course of it he told me that he had been by some accused of vanity. Oh,' he rejoined, what would you have! I am a child of nature, and cannot conceal my feelings; the only difference between me and a man of refinement is, that he knows how to conceal his vanity and exultation at success, which I let everybody see.' 919 "We found we had stayed hours instead of minutes with the poet; but he would not hear of any apology,-only regretted that his voice was so out of tune, in consequence of a violent cold, under which he was really labouring, and hoped to see us again. He told us our countrywomen of Pau had laden him with kindness and attention, and spoke with such enthusiasm of the beauty of certain misses,' that I feared his little wife would feel somewhat piqued; but, on the contrary, she stood by, smiling and happy, and enjoying the stories of his triumphs. I remarked that he had restored the poetry of the troubadours; asked him if he knew their songs; and said he was worthy to stand at their head. I am, indeed, a troubadour,' said he, with energy; but I am far beyond them all; they were but beginners: they never composed a poem like my Françouneto! there are no poets in France now-there cannot be; the language does not admit of it; where is the fire, the spirit, the tenderness, the force of the Gascon? French is but the ladder to reach to the first floorings by the fireside, those carols whose invariof Gascon, how can you get up to a height, except by a ladder ?' "I returned by Agen, after an absence in the Pyrenees of some months, and renewed my acquaintance with Jasmin and his dark-eyed wife. I did not expect that I should be recognised; but the moment I entered the little shop I was hailed as an old friend. Ah!' cried Jasmin, enfin la voilà encore ! I could not be flat A Christmas Carol.-p. 121. The following description of Christmas in Burgundy is from M. Fertiault's "Coup d'œil sur les Noels en Bourgogne," prefixed to the Paris edition of Les Noels Bourguignons de Bernard de la Monnoye (Gui Barazai), 1842:" "Every year, at the approach of Advent, people refresh their memories, clear their throats, and begin preluding in the long even able and eternal theme is the coming of the Messiah. They take from old closets pamphlets, little collections begrimed with dust and smoke, to which the press, and sometimes the pen, has consigned these songs, and as soon as the first Sunday of Advent sounds, they gossip, they gad about, they sit together by the fireside, sometimes at one house, Sometimes at another, taking turns in paying for the chestnuts and white wine, and singing with one common voice the grotesque praises of the Little Jesus. There are few villages even, which, during all the evenings of Advent, do not hear some of these curious canticles shouted in their streets to the nasal drone of bagpipes. In this case the minstrel comes as a reinforcement to the singers at the fireside, he brings and adds his dose of joy (spontaneous or mercenary, it matters little which) to the joy which breathes around the hearthstone; and when the voices vibrate and resound, one voice more is always welcome. There, it is not the purity of the notes which makes the concert, but the quantity, non qualitas, sed quantitas; then (to finish at once with the minstrel), when the Saviour has at length been born in the manger, and the beautiful Christmas Eve is passed, the rustic piper makes his round among the houses, where every one compliments and thanks him, and, moreover, gives him in small coin the price of the shrill notes with which he has enlivened the evening's entertainments. · "More or less, until Christmas Eve, all goes on in this way among our devout singers, with the difference of some gallons of wine or some hundreds of chestnuts. But this famous eve once come, the scale is pitched upon a higher key, the closing evening must be a memorable one. The toilet is begun at nightfall; then comes the hour of supper, admonishing divers appetites; and groups as numerous as possible are formed to take together this comfortable evening repast. The supper finished, a circle gathers around the hearth, which is arranged and set in order this evening after a particular fashion, and which at a later hour of the night is to become the object of special interest to the children. On the burning brands an enormous log has been placed. This log assuredly does not change its nature, but it changes its name during this evening: it is called the suche (the yule-log). Look you,' say they to the children, if you are good this evening, Noel (for with children one must always personify) will rain down sugar-plums in the night.' And the children sit demurely, keeping as quiet as their turbulent little natures will permit. The groups of older persons, not always as orderly as the children, seize this good opportunity to surrender themselves with merry nearts and boisterous voices to the chanted worship of the miraculous Noel. For this final solemnity they have kept the most powerful, the most enthusiastic, the most electrifying carols. Noel! Noel! Noel! This magic word resounds on all sides; it seasons every sauce-it is served up with every course. Of the thousands of canticles which are heard on this famous eve, ninety-nine in a hundred begin and end with this word, which is, one may say, their Alpha and Omega, their crown and footstool. This last evening, the merry-making is prolonged. Instead of retiring at ten or eleven o'clock, as is generally done on all the preceding evenings, they wait for the stroke of midnight; this word sufficiently proclaims to what cercmony they are going to repair. For ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, the bells have been calling the faithful with a triple bob-major; and each one, furnished with a little taper streaked with various colours (the Christmas-candle), goes through the crowded streets, where the Lanterns are dancing like will-o'-the-wisps, at the impatient summons of the multitudinous chimes. It is the midnight mass. Once inside the church, they hear with more or less piety the mass, emblematic of the coming of the Messiah. Then in tumult and great haste they return homeward, always in numerous groups; they salute the yule-log; they pay homage to the hearth; they sit down at table; and, amid songs which reverberate louder than ever, make this meal of after-Christmas, so long looked for, so cherished, so joyous, so noisy, and which it has been thought fit to call, we hardly know why, rossignon. The supper eaten at nightfall is no impediment, as you may imagine, to the appetite's returning, above all, if the going to and from church has made the devout eaters feel some little shafts of the sharp and biting north wind. Rossignon then goes on merrilysometimes far into the morning hours; but, nevertheless, gradually throats grow hoarse, stomachs are filled, the yule-log burns out, and at last the hour arrives when each one, as best he may, regains his domicile and his bed, and puts with himself between the sheets the material for a good sore throat, or a good indigestion, for the morrow. Previous to this, care has been taken to place in the slippers, or wooden shoes, of the children, the sugar-plums, which shall be for them, on their waking, the welcome fruits of the Christmas log." In the "Glossary," the suche, or yule-log, is thus defined: "This is a huge log, which is placed on the fire on Christmas Eve, and which in Burgundy is called, on this account, la Suche de Noel. Then the father of the family, particularly among the middle classes, sings solemnly Christmas carols with his wife and children, the smallest of whom he sends into the corner to pray that the yulelog may bear him some sugar-plums. Meanwhile, little parcels of them are placed under each end of the log, and the children come and pick them up, believing, in good faith, that the great log has borne them." The gold of the Busné.-p. 127. Busné is the name given by the Gipsies to all who are not of their race. Count of the Calés.-p. 127. The Gipsies call themselves Calés. See Borrow's valuable and extremely interesting werk, "The Zincali; or, an Account of the Gipsies in Spain." London, 1841. And amen! said my Cid Campeador.—p. 128. A line from the ancient "Poema del Cid." The river of his thoughts.-p. 128. This expression is from Dante. Byron has likewise used the expression; though I do not recollect in which of his poems. Mari Franca.-p. 129. A common Spanish proverb, used to turn aside a question one does not wish to answer. Ay, soft, emerald eyes.-p. 129. The Spaniards, with good reason, consider this colour of the eye as beautiful, and celebrate it in song. The Avenging Child.-p. 129. See the ancient ballads of "El Infante Vengador," and "Calaynos," All are sleeping, weary heart.-p. 129. From the Spanish. Good night.-p. 132. From the Spanish; as are likewise the songs immediately following, and that which commences the first scene of Act III. The evil eye.-p. 136. "In the Gitano language, casting the evil eye is called querelar nasula, which simply means making sick, and which, according to the commonest superstitions, is accomplished by casting an evil look at people, especially children, who, from the tenderness of their constitution, are supposed to be more easily blighted than those of a more mature age. After receiving the evil glance, they fall sick and die in a few hours. "The Spaniards have very little to say respecting the evil eye, though the belief in it is very prevalent, especially in Andalusia, amongst the lower orders. A stag's horn is considered a good safeguard, and on that account a small horn tipped with silver is frequently attached to the children's necks by means of a cord braided from the hair of a black mare's tail. Should the evil glance be cast, it is imagined that the horn receives it, and instantly snaps asunder. Such horns may be purchased in some of the silversmiths' shop at Seville. "The Gitanos have nothing more to say on this species of sorcery than the Spaniards, which can cause but little surprise, when we consider that they have no traditions, and can give no rational account of themselves, nor of the country from which they came. "Some of the women, however, pretend to have the power of casting it, though if questioned how they accomplished it, they can return no answer. They will likewise sell remedies for the evil eye, which need not be particularized, as they consist of any drugs which they may happen to possess or be acquainted with; the prescribers being perfectly reckless as to the effect produced on the patient, provided they receive their paltry reward. "I have known these beings offer to cure the glanders in a horse (an incurable disorder) with the very same powder which they offer as a specific for the evil eye."-Borrow's Zincalı, vol. i. ch. 9. On the top of a mountain I stand.-p. 136. This and the following scraps of song are from Borrow's" Zincali; or, an Account of the Gipsies in Spain." The gipsy words in the same scene may be thus interpreted:John-Dorados, pieces of Hermit, highway-robgold. Pigeon, a simpleton. Morocco, In your stripped. Dove, sheets. Moon, a shirt. Chirelin, a thief. Murcigalleras, those who steal at nightfall. Rastilleros, foot-pads. ber. the Planets, candles. If thou art sleeping, marden.-p. 138. wonderful thing, I venture to publish it for a thing as undoubted as 'tis wonderful." And the Emperor but a Macho!-p. 142. Macho, in Spanish, signifies a mule. Golondrina is the feminine form of Golondrino, a swallow, and also a cant name for a deserter." OLIVER BASSELIN.-p. 143. Oliver Basselin, the "Père joyeux du Vaudeville," flourished in the fifteenth century, and gave to his convivial songs the name of his native valleys, in which he sang them, Vaux-deVire. This name was afterwards corrupted into modern Vaudeville. VICTOR GALBRAITH.-p. 144. This poem is founded on fact. Victor Galbraith was a bugler in a company of volunteer cavalry; and was shot in Mexico for some breach of discipline. It is a common superstition among soldiers, that no balls will kill them unless their names are written on them. The old proverb says, "Every bullet has its billet." I remember the sea-fight far away.-p. 144. This was the engagement between the Enterprise and Boxer, off the harbour of Portland, in which both captains were slain. They were buried side by side, in the cemetery on Mountjoy. SANTA FILOMENA.-P. 146. "At Pisa, the church of San Francisco contains a chapel dedicated lately to Santo Filcmena; over the altar is a picture, by Sabatelli, representing the Saint as a beautiful nymph-like figure, floating down from neaven, attended by two angels bearing the lily, palm, and javelin, and beneath in the foreground the sick and the maimed, who are healed by her intercession."Mrs. Jameson's Sacred and Legendary Art, ii, 298. THE GOLDEN LEGEND.-p. 150. The old Legenda Aurea, or Golden Legend, was originally written in Latin, in the thirteenth century, by Jacobus de Voragine, a Dominican friar, who afterwards became Archbishop of Genoa, and died in 1292. He called his book simply, "Legends of the Saints." The epithet of Golden was given by his admirers; for, as Winkin de Worde says, "Like as passeth gold in value all other metals, so this Legend exceedeth all other books." But Edward Leigh, in much distress of mind, calls it "a book written by a man of a leaden heart for the baseness of the errors, that are without wit or reason, and of a brazen forehead, for his impudent boldness in reporting things so fabulous and incredible." This work, the great storehouse of the legendary lore of the Middle Ages, was translated into French in the fourteenth century by Jean de Vignay, and in the fifteenth into English by William Caxton. It has lately been made more From the Spanish: as is likewise the song of accessible by a French translation: "La Légende the Contrabandista on pp. 236-237. That of our vices we can frame A ladder.-p. 140. The words of St. Augustine are, "De vitiis nostris scalam nobis facemus, si vitia ispa calcumas."-Sermon iii. De Ascensione. THE PHANTOM SHIP.-p. 141. A detailed account of this "apparition of a Ship in the Air" is given by Cotton Mather, in hisMagnalia Christi," Book I, Chap. VI. It is contained in a letter from the Rev. James Pierpont, Pastor of New Haven. To this account Mather adds these words: "Reader, there being yet living so many credible gentlemen, that were eye-witnesses of this Dorée, traduite du Latin," par M. G. B. Paris 1850. There is a copy of the original, with the "Gesta Lombardorum" appended, in the Harvard College Library, Cambridge, printed at Strasburg, 1496. The litle-page is wanting; and the volume begins with the "Tabula Legendorum." I have called this poem the Golden Legend, because the story upon which it is founded seems to me to surpass all other legends in beauty and significance. It exhibits, amid the corruptions of the Middle Ages, the virtue of disinterestedness and self-sacrifice, and the power of Faith, Hope, and Charity, sufficient for all the exigencies of life and death. The story is told, and perhaps invented, by Hartmann von der Aue, a Minnesinger of the telfth century. The original may be found in Lailath's "Alt Deutshe Geditchte, with a modern German version. There is also one in Marbabh's "Volksbilcher," Mo. 32. LUX, DUX, LEX, REX.-P. 150. On the northern wall of the church of St. Pierre is sculptured a simple Greek cross, with this inscription. It represents the Cross as the light and guide, and law and ruler, of the world. These all centre in the Cross, and radiate from it. See Didron, "Iconographie," p. 408; Millington's Translation, I. 399. All the thunders Here are harmless! For these bells have been anointed, They defy our utmost power.—p. 150. The Consecration and Baptism of Bells is one of the most curious ceremonies of the Church in the Middle Ages. The Council of Cologne ordained as follows: "Let the bells be blessed, as the trumpets of the Church militant, by which the people are assembled to hear the word of God; the clergy to announce his mercy by day, and his truth in their nocturnal vigils: that by their sound the faithful may be invited to prayers, and that the spirit of devotion in them may be increased. The fathers have also maintained that demons affrighted by the sound of bells calling Christians to prayers, would flee away; and when they fled, the persons of the faithful would be secure; that the destruction of lightnings and whirlwinds would be averted, and the spirits of the storm defeated."-Edinburgh Encyclopædia. Art. Bells. See also Scheible's Kloster," vi. 776. And a Friar who is preaching to the crowd, In a voice so deep and clear and loud. That, if we listen, and give good heed. His lowest words will reach the ear.-p. 161. In giving this sermon of Friar Cuthbert as a specimen of the Risus Pas chales, or street-preaching of the monks at Easter, I have exaggerated nothing. This very anecdote, offensive as it is, comes from a discourse of Father Barletta, á Dominican friar of the fifteenth century, whose fame as a popular preacher was very great. "Among the abuses introduced in this century," says Tiraboschi, "was that of exciting from the pulpit the laughter of the hearers; as if that were the same thing as converting them. We have examples of this, not only in Italy, but also in France, where the sermons of Menot and Maillard, and of others, who would make a better appearance on the stage than in the pulpit, are still celebrated for such follies." Mysteries were founded on the historic parts of the Old and New Testaments, and the MiraclePlays on the Lives of Saints; a distinction not always observed, however-for in Mr. Wright's "Early Mysteries and other Latin Poems of the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries," the Resurrection of Lazarus is called a Miracle, and not a Mystery. The Moralities were plays, in which the Virtues and Vices were personified. The earliest religious play which has been preserved is the "Christos Paschon" of Gregory Nazianzen, written in Greek, in the fourth century. Next to this come the remarkable Latin Plays of Roswitha, the Nun of Gandersheim, in the tenth century, which, though crude, and wanting in artistic construction, are marked by a good deal of dramatic power and interest. A handsome edition of these plays, with French translation, has been lately published, entitled, "Théâtre de Rosvitha, Religieuse Allemande du Xe Siecle. Par Charles Magnin. Paris, 1845. The most important collections of English Mysteries and Miracle-Plays are those known as the Townley, the Chester, and the Coventry Plays. The first of these collections has been published by the Surtees Society, and the other two by the Shakspere Society. In his introduction to the Coventry Mysteries, the editor, Mr. Halliwell, quotes the following passage from Dugdale's" Antiquities of Warwickshire:"-. Before the suppression of the monasteries, this city was very famous for the pageants, that were played therein, upon Corpus-Christi day; which, occasioning very great confluence of people thither, from far and near, was of no small benefit thereto; which pageants being acted with mighty state and reverence by the friars of this house, had theatres for the several scenes, very large and high, piaced upon wheels, and drawn to all the eminent parts of the city, for the better advantage of spectators; and contained the story of the New Testament, composed into old English rhythm, as appeareth by ancient MS., intituled Ludus Corporis Christi," or "Ludus Conventriæ." I have been told by some old people, who in their younger years were eye-witnesses of these pageants so acted, that the yearly confluence of people to see that show was extraordinarily great, and yielded no small advantage to this city.' an The representation of religious plays has not yet been wholly discontinued by the Roman Church. At Ober-Ammergau, in the Tyrol, a grand spectacle of this kind is exhibited once in ten years. A very graphic, description of that which took place in the year 1850 is given by Miss Anna Mary Howitt, in her "Art-Student in Munich," vol. i. chap. iv. She says: "The first view of Ober Ammergau somewhat disappointed us. It lies in a smiling green valley free-surrounded by hills rather than mountains, and, excepting for the architecture of the cottages and certain rugged lines of peaks and cliffs telling of Alpine origin, might have passed for a retired Derbyshire dale. If the reader is curious to see how far the dom of speech was carried in these popular sermons, he is referred to Scheible's "Kloster," vol. i, where he will find extracts from Abraham à Sancta Clara, Sebastian Frank, and others; and in particular, an anonymous discourse called Der Gräuel der Verwüstung. The Abomination of Desolation, preached at Ottakring, a village west of Vienna, November 25, 1782, in which the license of language is carried to its utmost limit. My authority for the spiritual interpretation of bell-ringing, which follows, is Durandus, as cited by Hone, in the Addenda to his "Ancient Mysteries Described." THE NATIVITY, a Miracle-Play.-p. 162 A singular chapter in the History of the Middle Ages, is that which gives account of the early Christian Drama, the Mysteries, Moralities, and Miracle-Plays, which were at first performed in churches: and afterwards in the street, on fixed or movable stages. For the most part, the "We had brought from our friend, Professor R., a letter to the peasant, Tobias Flunger, who performed the character of Christ, and this circumstance won for us good respect among our fellow-travellers. The stell-wagen drove up to his house, which is the second in the village, and surrounded by a gay little garden. Tobias Flunger came out to receive us, and you may imagine our surprise, when, instead of a peasant, as we had imagined, we beheld a gentleman to all appearance, in a grey sort of undress coat, with a scarlet fez on his head. He was certainly handsome, and welcomed us with a calm yet warm-hearted courtesy. As he removed his fez we saw his dark glossy hair parted above the centre of his brow, and falling in rich waves upon his shoulders, and that his melancholy dark eyes, his pale brow, his emaciated features, his short, black beard,-all bore the most strange and startling resemblance to the heads of the Saviour as represented by the early Italian painters. "There was something to my mind almost fearful in this resemblance, and Tobias Flunger seemed to act and speak like one filled with a mysterious awe. If this be an act of worship in him, this personation of our Lord, what will be its effect upon him in after-life? There was a something so strange, so unspeakably melancholy in his emaciated countenance, that I found my imagination soon busily speculating upon the true reading of its expression. will towards men; they sang of God's infinite love in sending among men His blessed Son; and their voices rose towards heaven, and echoed among the hills. And whilst they thus sang, our hearts were strangely touched, and our eyes wandered away from those singular peasant angels and their peasant audience, up to the deep, cloudless blue sky above their heads: you heard the rustle of green trees around you, and caught glimpses of mountains, and all seemed a strange, fantastical, poetical dream. "But now the chorus retired, and the curtain slowly rose. There is a tread of feet, a hum of voices, a crowd approaches, children shout, "At the door we were also met by his wife wave palm-branches, and scatter flowers. In and little daughter, themselves peasants in ap- the centre of the multitude on the stage, riding pearance, but cheerful and kind in their wel- upon an ass, sits a majestic figure clothed in a come, as if we had been old friends. The whole long violet-coloured robe, the heavy folds of a cottage was in harmony with its inhabitants, crimson mantle falling around him. His hands bright, cheerful, and filled with traces of a are laid across his breast; his face is meekly simple, pious, beautiful existence. We were raised towards heaven, with an adoring love. taken into a little room, half chamber, half Behind solemnly follows a group of grave men, study; upon the walls were several well-chosen staves in their hands, ample drapery sweeping engravings, after Hess and Overbeck; and old- the ground; you recognise John in the handfashioned cabinet, fronted with glass, contained I some, almost feminine youth, clothed in the various quaint drinking-glasses and exquisite green and scarlet robes, and with flowing locks; specimens of carving in wood, an art greatly and there is Peter with his eager countenance; practised in the village. On one side of the and that man with the brooding look, and wrapt cabinet hung a violin, and above it and another in a flame-coloured mantle, that must be Jucabinet were arranged casts of hands and feet. das! The children shout and wave their palmOn noticing these things to the wife, she said branches, and the procession moves on,-and that her husband was a carver in wood by pro- that fatal triumphal entry is made into Jérusafession, and had brought these with him from Munich to assist him in his art. "He is a great carver of crucifixes and Madonnas,' she continued: you must see his work.' He was an artist, then, this Tobias Flunger, with his grave, sad countenance, his air of superiority; yes, much was now explained. And no doubt his artist-feeling had been brought into operation for the benefit of the MiraclePlay, in the same manner that the schoolmaster of Ober-Ammergau had taxed his musical skill for the production of the music. "It was now seven o'clock; and as yet it wanted an hour till the commencement of the play, our kind artistic host, with that strange, melancholy, awe-inspiring countenance of his, insisted upon accompanying us through the village, and showing us specimens of the woodcarving. There was yet plenty of time,' he said, for him to prepare the play.' "At the sound of a small cannon, the motley crowd hastened towards the theatre, which was a large, unsightly, wooden enclosure, erected on a broad green meadow, within a stone's throw of the village. A few poplars growing on either side of the enclosure, no doubt, mark from one ten years to another, the precise spot. The brightly-painted pediment of the proscenium rose above the rude wooden fence: crowds of people already thronged the hastily-crowded flights of steps leading to the different entrances. A few moments more, and we are seated in the boxes precisely opposite the front of the stage. "With the first feeble notes from the orchestra, and very feeble at first they were, a dead silence sunk down upon the assembled mnltitude; as people say, you might have heard a pin drop.' All was breathless expectation. And soon, beneath the blue dome of heaven, and with God's sunlight showering down upon them, a fantastic vision passed across the stage; their white tunics glanced in the light, their crimson, violet, and azure mantles swept the ground, their plumed head-dresses waved in the breeze; they looked like some strange flight of fabulous birds. This was the chorus, attired to represent angels. Like the antique chorus, they sang the argument of the play. With waving hands and solemn music, their united voices pealed forth words of blessing, of 'Peace on earth, and good lem. "Again appears that tall majestic figure in his violet robe; his features are lit up with a holy indignation; a scourge is in his hand; he overturns the tables of the money-changers, and drives before him a craven, avaricious crowd! An excited assembly of aged men, with long and venerable beards falling on their breasts, their features inflamed with rage, with gestures of vengeance, horror, and contempt, plot and decide upon his death! He meantime sits calmly at Bethany among his friends; and a woman, with beautiful long hair falling around her, kisses his feet, and anoints them with precious ointment from her alabaster vase. And now he sits at a long table, his friends on either hand. John leans upon his breast; he breaks the bread. Judas, seized by his evil thought, rises from the table, wraps himself closely in his mantle, bows his head, and passes out. Again the scene changes; it is a garden. That sad, grave man, gazes with disappointed love upon his sleeping friends; he turns away and prays, bowed in agony. There is a tumult! That figure, wrapped in its flame-coloured robe, again appears! There is an encounter; a flash of swords; and the majestic, melancholy, violetrobed figure, with meekly bowed head, is borne away! And thus ends the first act of this saddest of all tragedies. "We had come expecting to feel our souls revolt at so material a representation of Christ, as any representation of him we naturally imagined must be in a peasant's Miracle-Play. Yet so far, strange to confess, neither horror, dis gust, nor contempt was excited in our minds. Such an earnest solemnity and simplicity breathed throughout the whole of the performance, that, to me, at least, anything like anger or a perception of the ludicrous, would have seemed more irreverent on my part than was this simple, childlike rendering of the sublime Christian tragedy. We felt at times as though the figures of Cimabue's, Giotto's, and Perugino's pictures had become animated, and were moving before us; there was the simple arrangement and brilliant colour of drapery; the same earnest quiet dignity about the heads, whilst the entire absence of all theatrical effect wonderfully increased the illusion. There were scenes and groups so extraordinarily like the |