I think that all the world's greatest men have had this quality of double-mindedness. Take, for example, the curious paradox of Epicureanism, which counsels a temperate pleasure, and yet condemns the whole of life as being merely the pursuit of an unattainable desire; reconciling us to life by the prospect of death, and to death by showing us the vain efforts and innumerable vexations of life. The same double-mindedness partly explains for us the difference between the Socrates of Plato and the Socrates of Xenophon; though we must not overlook the fundamental difference in the biographers. This elusive and various quality of greatness has not, I think, been sufficiently recognised. There is no more suggestive expression of it than the character of Christ as sketched by Oscar Wilde in "De Profundis," which may be supplemented by the masterly delineation of M. Loisy in his prolegomena to "Les Evangiles Synoptiques."

In the following studies, the principal influence is that of Renan; though I profess I cannot gauge its full extent. The discourse of Protagoras owes some of its principles to the dialogue "Certitudes"; but the pivot, upon which the whole question turns, came directly from a study of the "Theaetetus" and the "Protagoras," so that the debt is scarcely perceptible. Protagoras himself practically does not exist for us, we can only evoke a shadowy image of him from Plato, for whose somewhat reactionary bias full allowance must be made. The result is a vague reflection with blurred outlines, but gracious, and with neither the greed nor the vanity of the other sophists. I do not think that Renan's verdicts have influenced my treatment of St Paul. Renan has a natural prejudice against ce laid petit Juif, with his Rabbinical pseudo-science, and his blindness to the beauty of the Greek spirit, his scorn of the "idols," and his misconception of what was meant by "the unknown God." I do not share this prejudice. I am perfectly willing to take a thing for what it is, and not to grumble at it for not being other than it is. The strength of St Paul was like the strength of one of Michelangelo's unfinished statues; the idea is emerging from the marble, but it is still veiled, rude, scarred by the chisel, and not yet quite free of its material.

Machiavelli said that to renew anything we must return to its origins. It is as true in literature as in life. My aim has been to derive everything from the original source; but it is difficult to avoid being touched by contemporary influences. The majority of these, in my case, have been French. I am indebted for the two characteristic letters of Innocent III. to Achille Luchaire's admirable history of that Pope, which he fortunately lived to finish; and to the always fascinating Gaston Boissier for his various work on Rome. I am under a deep obligation to Mr L. Arthur Burd, as are all English students of Machiavelli. Finally, I am indebted, more than I can say, to M. l'Abbé Houtin for his interest and encouragement, and to Mr Arthur Galton for his example and conversation.

CONTENTS

PAGE
I.THE KING OF URUK[1]
II.AT THE HOUSE OF EURIPIDES[55]
III.THE FRIEND OF PAUL[99]
IV.THE JESTERS OF THE LORD[157]
V.AT SAN CASCIANO[197]
VI.THE PARADISE OF THE DISILLUSIONED[241]

To ARTHUR GALTON

I

THE KING OF URUK