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innocent blood that makes him the scarlet figure of history； the
coronation ceremony of sorrow； one of the most wonderful things in
the whole of recorded time； the crucifixion of the Innocent One
before the eyes of his mother and of the disciple whom he loved；
the soldiers gambling and throwing dice for his clothes； the
terrible death by which he gave the world its most eternal symbol；
and his final burial in the tomb of the rich man； his body swathed
in Egyptian linen with costly spices and perfumes as though he had
been a king's son。 When one contemplates all this from the point
of view of art alone one cannot but be grateful that the supreme
office of the Church should be the playing of the tragedy without
the shedding of blood： the mystical presentation； by means of
dialogue and costume and gesture even； of the Passion of her Lord；
and it is always a source of pleasure and awe to me to remember
that the ultimate survival of the Greek chorus； lost elsewhere to
art； is to be found in the servitor answering the priest at Mass。
Yet the whole life of Christ … so entirely may sorrow and beauty be
made one in their meaning and manifestation … is really an idyll；
though it ends with the veil of the temple being rent； and the
darkness coming over the face of the earth； and the stone rolled to
the door of the sepulchre。 One always thinks of him as a young
bridegroom with his companions； as indeed he somewhere describes
himself； as a shepherd straying through a valley with his sheep in
search of green meadow or cool stream； as a singer trying to build
out of the music the walls of the City of God； or as a lover for
whose love the whole world was too small。 His miracles seem to me
to be as exquisite as the coming of spring； and quite as natural。
I see no difficulty at all in believing that such was the charm of
his personality that his mere presence could bring peace to souls
in anguish； and that those who touched his garments or his hands
forgot their pain； or that as he passed by on the highway of life
people who had seen nothing of life's mystery； saw it clearly； and
others who had been deaf to every voice but that of pleasure heard
for the first time the voice of love and found it as 'musical as
Apollo's lute'； or that evil passions fled at his approach； and men
whose dull unimaginative lives had been but a mode of death rose as
it were from the grave when he called them； or that when he taught
on the hillside the multitude forgot their hunger and thirst and
the cares of this world； and that to his friends who listened to
him as he sat at meat the coarse food seemed delicate； and the
water had the taste of good wine； and the whole house became full
of the odour and sweetness of nard。
Renan in his VIE DE JESUS … that gracious fifth gospel； the gospel
according to St。 Thomas； one might call it … says somewhere that
Christ's great achievement was that he made himself as much loved
after his death as he had been during his lifetime。 And certainly；
if his place is among the poets； he is the leader of all the
lovers。 He saw that love was the first secret of the world for
which the wise men had been looking； and that it was only through
love that one could approach either the heart of the leper or the
feet of God。
And above all； Christ is the most supreme of individualists。
Humility； like the artistic； acceptance of all experiences； is
merely a mode of manifestation。 It is man's soul that Christ is
always looking for。 He calls it 'God's Kingdom；' and finds it in
every one。 He compares it to little things； to a tiny seed； to a
handful of leaven； to a pearl。 That is because one realises one's
soul only by getting rid of all alien passions； all acquired
culture； and all external possessions； be they good or evil。
I bore up against everything with some stubbornness of will and
much rebellion of nature； till I had absolutely nothing left in the
world but one thing。 I had lost my name； my position； my
happiness； my freedom； my wealth。 I was a prisoner and a pauper。
But I still had my children left。 Suddenly they were taken away
from me by the law。 It was a blow so appalling that I did not know
what to do； so I flung myself on my knees； and bowed my head； and
wept； and said； 'The body of a child is as the body of the Lord： I
am not worthy of either。' That moment seemed to save me。 I saw
then that the only thing for me was to accept everything。 Since
then … curious as it will no doubt sound … I have been happier。 It
was of course my soul in its ultimate essence that I had reached。
In many ways I had been its enemy； but I found it waiting for me as
a friend。 When one comes in contact with the soul it makes one
simple as a child； as Christ said one should be。
It is tragic how few people ever 'possess their souls' before they
die。 'Nothing is more rare in any man；' says Emerson； 'than an act
of his own。' It is quite true。 Most people are other people。
Their thoughts are some one else's opinions； their lives a mimicry；
their passions a quotation。 Christ was not merely the supreme
individualist； but he was the first individualist in history。
People have tried to make him out an ordinary philanthropist； or
ranked him as an altruist with the scientific and sentimental。 But
he was really neither one nor the other。 Pity he has； of course；
for the poor； for those who are shut up in prisons； for the lowly；
for the wretched； but he has far more pity for the rich； for the
hard hedonists； for those who waste their freedom in becoming
slaves to things； for those who wear soft raiment and live in
kings' houses。 Riches and pleasure seemed to him to be really
greater tragedies than poverty or sorrow。 And as for altruism； who
knew better than he that it is vocation not volition that
determines us； and that one cannot gather grapes of thorns or figs
from thistles？
To live for others as a definite self…conscious aim was not his
creed。 It was not the basis of his creed。 When he says； 'Forgive
your enemies；' it is not for the sake of the enemy； but for one's
own sake that he says so； and because love is more beautiful than
hate。 In his own entreaty to the young man； 'Sell all that thou
hast and give to the poor；' it is not of the state of the poor that
he is thinking but of the soul of the young man； the soul that
wealth was marring。 In his view of life he is one with the artist
who knows that by the inevitable law of self…perfection； the poet
must sing； and the sculptor think in bronze； and the painter make
the world a mirror for his moods； as surely and as certainly as the
hawthorn must blossom in spring； and the corn turn to gold at
harvest…time； and the moon in her ordered wanderings change from
shield to sickle； and from sickle to shield。
But while Christ did not say to men； 'Live for others；' he pointed
out that there was no difference at all between the lives of others
and one's own life。 By this means he gave to man an extended； a
Titan personality。 Since his coming the history of each separate
individual is； or can be made； the history of the world。 Of
course； culture has intensified the personality of man。 Art has
made us myriad…minded。 Those who have the artistic temperament go
into exile with Dante and learn how salt is the bread of others；
and how steep their stairs； they catch for a moment the serenity
and calm of Goethe； and yet know but too well that Baudelaire cried
to God …
'O Seigneur； donnez moi la force et le courage
De contempler mon corps et mon coeur sans degout。'
Out of Shakespeare's sonnets they draw； to their own hurt it may
be； the secret of his love and make it their own； they look with
new eyes on modern life； because they have listened to one of
Chopin's nocturnes； or handled Greek things； or read the story of
the passion of some dead man for some dead woman whose hair was
like threads of fine gold； and whose mouth was as a pomegranate。
But the sympathy of the artistic temperament is necessarily with
what has found expression。 In words or in colours； in music or in
marble； behind the painted masks of an AEschylean play； or through
some Sicilian shepherds' pierced and jointed reeds； the man and his
message must have been revealed。
To the artist； expression is the only mode under which he can
conceive life at all。 To him what is dumb is dead。 But to Christ
it was not so。 With a width and wonder of imagination that fills
one almost with awe； he took the entire world of the inarticulate；
the voiceless world of pain； as his kingdom； and made of himself
its eternal mouthpiece。 Those of whom I have spoken； who are dumb
under oppression； and 'whose silence is heard only of God；' he
chose as his brothers。 He sought to become eyes to