until I met him. I wondered if he
was self-conscious about his goodness, or if he was a dreamer who
could not get down to the realities of this world, or if he had
been spoiled by flattery, or if piety was part of his profession.

When I finally went from there I felt that I really understood him.
His life has been without an atom of reproach, yet he never poses
as pious. He does not preach, or stand aloof, or try to make you
feel that he is better than you, but down in your heart you know
that he is. He has been honoured by royalty and men of state, yet
he remains simple and unaffected, though quietly dignified in
manner. He is truly Nature's Nobleman, with a mind that is pure
and a face the mirror of his mind.

To play well his role of _Christus_ is the dominating passion of
his life. Not the make-up box, but his own thoughts must mould his
features for the role, which has been his in 1890, 1900 and 1910.

His travels include journeys to Rome and to the Holy Land. He is
well read, an interesting talker, and an interested listener. He
commented upon the great change in the spirit of the people, a
change from the intoxicating enthusiasm of victory to a war-weary
feeling of trying to hold out through a sense of duty. To my
question as to when he thought the war would end, he answered:
"When Great Britain and Germany both realise that each must make
concessions. Neither can crush the other."

The doctrine that "only through hate can the greatest obstacles in
life be overcome" has not reached his home, nor was there hanging
on the wall, as in so many German homes, the famous order of the
day of Crown Prince Rupert of Bavaria, which commences with
"Soldiers of the army! Before you are the English!" in which he
exhorts his troops with all the tricky sophistry of hate.

Anton Lang has worked long hard hours to bring up his family,
rather than accept fabulous offers for a theatrical tour of
America. He refused these offers through no mere caprice.

"I admit that the temptation is great," he said to me. "Here I
must always work hard and remain poor; there I quickly could have
grown rich. But the Passion Play is not a business," he continued
earnestly. "Nearly three hundred years ago, when a terrible plague
raged over the land, the people of Oberammergau vowed to Almighty
God that if He would save their village, they would perform every
ten years in His glory the Passion of His Divine Son. The village
was