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turn an interesting thief into a tedious honest man was not his
aim。 He would have thought little of the Prisoners' Aid Society
and other modern movements of the kind。 The conversion of a
publican into a Pharisee would not have seemed to him a great
achievement。 But in a manner not yet understood of the world he
regarded sin and suffering as being in themselves beautiful holy
things and modes of perfection。
It seems a very dangerous idea。 It is … all great ideas are
dangerous。 That it was Christ's creed admits of no doubt。 That it
is the true creed I don't doubt myself。
Of course the sinner must repent。 But why？ Simply because
otherwise he would be unable to realise what he had done。 The
moment of repentance is the moment of initiation。 More than that：
it is the means by which one alters one's past。 The Greeks thought
that impossible。 They often say in their Gnomic aphorisms； 'Even
the Gods cannot alter the past。' Christ showed that the commonest
sinner could do it； that it was the one thing he could do。 Christ；
had he been asked； would have said … I feel quite certain about it
… that the moment the prodigal son fell on his knees and wept； he
made his having wasted his substance with harlots； his swine…
herding and hungering for the husks they ate； beautiful and holy
moments in his life。 It is difficult for most people to grasp the
idea。 I dare say one has to go to prison to understand it。 If so；
it may be worth while going to prison。
There is something so unique about Christ。 Of course just as there
are false dawns before the dawn itself； and winter days so full of
sudden sunlight that they will cheat the wise crocus into
squandering its gold before its time； and make some foolish bird
call to its mate to build on barren boughs； so there were
Christians before Christ。 For that we should be grateful。 The
unfortunate thing is that there have been none since。 I make one
exception； St。 Francis of Assisi。 But then God had given him at
his birth the soul of a poet； as he himself when quite young had in
mystical marriage taken poverty as his bride： and with the soul of
a poet and the body of a beggar he found the way to perfection not
difficult。 He understood Christ； and so he became like him。 We do
not require the Liber Conformitatum to teach us that the life of
St。 Francis was the true IMITATIO CHRISTI； a poem compared to which
the book of that name is merely prose。
Indeed； that is the charm about Christ； when all is said： he is
just like a work of art。 He does not really teach one anything；
but by being brought into his presence one becomes something。 And
everybody is predestined to his presence。 Once at least in his
life each man walks with Christ to Emmaus。
As regards the other subject； the Relation of the Artistic Life to
Conduct； it will no doubt seem strange to you that I should select
it。 People point to Reading Gaol and say； 'That is where the
artistic life leads a man。' Well； it might lead to worse places。
The more mechanical people to whom life is a shrewd speculation
depending on a careful calculation of ways and means； always know
where they are going； and go there。 They start with the ideal
desire of being the parish beadle； and in whatever sphere they are
placed they succeed in being the parish beadle and no more。 A man
whose desire is to be something separate from himself； to be a
member of Parliament； or a successful grocer； or a prominent
solicitor； or a judge； or something equally tedious； invariably
succeeds in being what he wants to be。 That is his punishment。
Those who want a mask have to wear it。
But with the dynamic forces of life； and those in whom those
dynamic forces become incarnate； it is different。 People whose
desire is solely for self…realisation never know where they are
going。 They can't know。 In one sense of the word it is of course
necessary； as the Greek oracle said； to know oneself： that is the
first achievement of knowledge。 But to recognise that the soul of
a man is unknowable； is the ultimate achievement of wisdom。 The
final mystery is oneself。 When one has weighed the sun in the
balance； and measured the steps of the moon； and mapped out the
seven heavens star by star； there still remains oneself。 Who can
calculate the orbit of his own soul？ When the son went out to look
for his father's asses； he did not know that a man of God was
waiting for him with the very chrism of coronation； and that his
own soul was already the soul of a king。
I hope to live long enough and to produce work of such a character
that I shall be able at the end of my days to say； 'Yes！ this is
just where the artistic life leads a man！' Two of the most perfect
lives I have come across in my own experience are the lives of
Verlaine and of Prince Kropotkin： both of them men who have passed
years in prison： the first； the one Christian poet since Dante；
the other； a man with a soul of that beautiful white Christ which
seems coming out of Russia。 And for the last seven or eight
months； in spite of a succession of great troubles reaching me from
the outside world almost without intermission； I have been placed
in direct contact with a new spirit working in this prison through
man and things； that has helped me beyond any possibility of
expression in words： so that while for the first year of my
imprisonment I did nothing else； and can remember doing nothing
else； but wring my hands in impotent despair； and say； 'What an
ending； what an appalling ending！' now I try to say to myself； and
sometimes when I am not torturing myself do really and sincerely
say； 'What a beginning； what a wonderful beginning！' It may really
be so。 It may become so。 If it does I shall owe much to this new
personality that has altered every man's life in this place。
You may realise it when I say that had I been released last May； as
I tried to be； I would have left this place loathing it and every
official in it with a bitterness of hatred that would have poisoned
my life。 I have had a year longer of imprisonment； but humanity
has been in the prison along with us all； and now when I go out I
shall always remember great kindnesses that I have received here
from almost everybody； and on the day of my release I shall give
many thanks to many people； and ask to be remembered by them in
turn。
The prison style is absolutely and entirely wrong。 I would give
anything to be able to alter it when I go out。 I intend to try。
But there is nothing in the world so wrong but that the spirit of
humanity； which is the spirit of love； the spirit of the Christ who
is not in churches； may make it； if not right； at least possible to
be borne without too much bitterness of heart。
I know also that much is waiting for me outside that is very
delightful； from what St。 Francis of Assisi calls 'my brother the
wind； and my sister the rain；' lovely things both of them； down to
the shop…windows and sunsets of great cities。 If I made a list of
all that still remains to me； I don't know where I should stop：
for； indeed； God made the world just as much for me as for any one
else。 Perhaps I may go out with something that I had not got
before。 I need not tell you that to me reformations in morals are
as meaningless and vulgar as Reformations in theology。 But while
to propose to be a better man is a piece of unscientific cant； to
have become a deeper man is the privilege of those who have
suffered。 And such I think I have become。
If after I am free a friend of mine gave a feast； and did not
invite me to it； I should not mind a bit。 I can be perfectly happy
by myself。 With freedom； flowers； books； and the moon； who could
not be perfectly happy？ Besides； feasts are not for me any more。
I have given too many to care about them。 That side of life is
over for me； very fortunately； I dare say。 But if after I am free
a friend of mine had a sorrow and refused to allow me to share it；
I should feel it most bitterly。 If he shut the doors of the house
of mourning against me； I would come back again and again and beg
to be admitted； so that I might share in what I was entitled to
share in。 If he thought me unworthy； unfit to weep with him； I
should feel it as the most poignant humiliation； as the most
terrible mode in which disgrace could be inflicted on me。 But that
could not be。 I have a right to share in sorrow； and he who can
look at the loveliness of the world and share its sorrow； and
realise something of the wonder of both； is in immediate contact
with divine things； and has got as near to God's secret as any one
can get。
Perhaps there may come into my art also； no less than into my life；
a still deeper note； one of greater unity of passion； and
direc