de profundis-第6章

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absolutely　himself；　and　had　taken　as　my　types　not　merely　the　

shepherd　on　the　hillside　and　the　prisoner　in　his　cell；　but　also　the　

painter　to　whom　the　world　is　a　pageant　and　the　poet　for　whom　the　

world　is　a　song。　　I　remember　saying　once　to　Andre　Gide；　as　we　sat　

together　in　some　Paris　CAFE；　that　while　meta…physics　had　but　little　

real　interest　for　me；　and　morality　absolutely　none；　there　was　

nothing　that　either　Plato　or　Christ　had　said　that　could　not　be　

transferred　immediately　into　the　sphere　of　Art　and　there　find　its　

complete　fulfilment。



Nor　is　it　merely　that　we　can　discern　in　Christ　that　close　union　of　

personality　with　perfection　which　forms　the　real　distinction　

between　the　classical　and　romantic　movement　in　life；　but　the　very　

basis　of　his　nature　was　the　same　as　that　of　the　nature　of　the　

artist　…　an　intense　and　flamelike　imagination。　　He　realised　in　the　

entire　sphere　of　human　relations　that　imaginative　sympathy　which　in　

the　sphere　of　Art　is　the　sole　secret　of　creation。　　He　understood　

the　leprosy　of　the　leper；　the　darkness　of　the　blind；　the　fierce　

misery　of　those　who　live　for　pleasure；　the　strange　poverty　of　the　

rich。　　Some　one　wrote　to　me　in　trouble；　'When　you　are　not　on　your　

pedestal　you　are　not　interesting。'　　How　remote　was　the　writer　from　

what　Matthew　Arnold　calls　'the　Secret　of　Jesus。'　　Either　would　have　

taught　him　that　whatever　happens　to　another　happens　to　oneself；　and　

if　you　want　an　inscription　to　read　at　dawn　and　at　night…time；　and　

for　pleasure　or　for　pain；　write　up　on　the　walls　of　your　house　in　

letters　for　the　sun　to　gild　and　the　moon　to　silver；　'Whatever　

happens　to　oneself　happens　to　another。'



Christ's　place　indeed　is　with　the　poets。　　His　whole　conception　of　

Humanity　sprang　right　out　of　the　imagination　and　can　only　be　

realised　by　it。　　What　God　was　to　the　pantheist；　man　was　to　Him。　　He　

was　the　first　to　conceive　the　divided　races　as　a　unity。　　Before　his　

time　there　had　been　gods　and　men；　and；　feeling　through　the　

mysticism　of　sympathy　that　in　himself　each　had　been　made　incarnate；　

he　calls　himself　the　Son　of　the　one　or　the　Son　of　the　other；　

according　to　his　mood。　　More　than　any　one　else　in　history　he　wakes　

in　us　that　temper　of　wonder　to　which　romance　always　appeals。　　There　

is　still　something　to　me　almost　incredible　in　the　idea　of　a　young　

Galilean　peasant　imagining　that　he　could　bear　on　his　own　shoulders　

the　burden　of　the　entire　world；　all　that　had　already　been　done　and　

suffered；　and　all　that　was　yet　to　be　done　and　suffered：　　the　sins　

of　Nero；　of　Caesar　Borgia；　of　Alexander　VI。；　and　of　him　who　was　

Emperor　of　Rome　and　Priest　of　the　Sun：　　the　sufferings　of　those　

whose　names　are　legion　and　whose　dwelling　is　among　the　tombs：　　

oppressed　nationalities；　factory　children；　thieves；　people　in　

prison；　outcasts；　those　who　are　dumb　under　oppression　and　whose　

silence　is　heard　only　of　God；　and　not　merely　imagining　this　but　

actually　achieving　it；　so　that　at　the　present　moment　all　who　come　

in　contact　with　his　personality；　even　though　they　may　neither　bow　

to　his　altar　nor　kneel　before　his　priest；　in　some　way　find　that　the　

ugliness　of　their　sin　is　taken　away　and　the　beauty　of　their　sorrow　

revealed　to　them。



I　had　said　of　Christ　that　he　ranks　with　the　poets。　　That　is　true。　　

Shelley　and　Sophocles　are　of　his　company。　　But　his　entire　life　also　

is　the　most　wonderful　of　poems。　　For　'pity　and　terror'　there　is　

nothing　in　the　entire　cycle　of　Greek　tragedy　to　touch　it。　　The　

absolute　purity　of　the　protagonist　raises　the　entire　scheme　to　a　

height　of　romantic　art　from　which　the　sufferings　of　Thebes　and　

Pelops'　line　are　by　their　very　horror　excluded；　and　shows　how　wrong　

Aristotle　was　when　he　said　in　his　treatise　on　the　drama　that　it　

would　be　impossible　to　bear　the　spectacle　of　one　blameless　in　pain。　　

Nor　in　AEschylus　nor　Dante；　those　stern　masters　of　tenderness；　in　

Shakespeare；　the　most　purely　human　of　all　the　great　artists；　in　the　

whole　of　Celtic　myth　and　legend；　where　the　loveliness　of　the　world　

is　shown　through　a　mist　of　tears；　and　the　life　of　a　man　is　no　more　

than　the　life　of　a　flower；　is　there　anything　that；　for　sheer　

simplicity　of　pathos　wedded　and　made　one　with　sublimity　of　tragic　

effect；　can　be　said　to　equal　or　even　approach　the　last　act　of　

Christ's　passion。　　The　little　supper　with　his　companions；　one　of　

whom　has　already　sold　him　for　a　price；　the　anguish　in　the　quiet　

moon…lit　garden；　the　false　friend　coming　close　to　him　so　as　to　

betray　him　with　a　kiss；　the　friend　who　still　believed　in　him；　and　

on　whom　as　on　a　rock　he　had　hoped　to　build　a　house　of　refuge　for　

Man；　denying　him　as　the　bird　cried　to　the　dawn；　his　own　utter　

loneliness；　his　submission；　his　acceptance　of　everything；　and　along　

with　it　all　such　scenes　as　the　high　priest　of　orthodoxy　rending　his　

raiment　in　wrath；　and　the　magistrate　of　civil　justice　calling　for　

water　in　the　vain　hope　of　cleansing　himself　of　that　stain　of　

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　a