the Olympians, and for art, Dionysus, the son of a mortal woman to
whom the moment of his birth had proved also the moment of her
death.

But Life itself from its lowliest and most humble sphere produced
one far more marvellous than the mother of Proserpina or the son of
Semele. Out of the Carpenter's shop at Nazareth had come a
personality infinitely greater than any made by myth and legend,
and one, strangely enough, destined to reveal to the world the
mystical meaning of wine and the real beauties of the lilies of the
field as none, either on Cithaeron or at Enna, had ever done.

The song of Isaiah, 'He is despised and rejected of men, a man of
sorrows and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces
from him,' had seemed to him to prefigure himself, and in him the
prophecy was fulfilled. We must not be afraid of such a phrase.
Every single work of art is the fulfilment of a prophecy: for
every work of art is the conversion of an idea into an image.
Every single human being should be the fulfilment of a prophecy:
for every human being should be the realisation of some ideal,
either in the mind of God or in the mind of man. Christ found the
type and fixed it, and the dream of a Virgilian poet, either at
Jerusalem or at Babylon, became in the long progress of the
centuries incarnate in him for whom the world was waiting.

To me one of the things in history the most to be regretted is that
the Christ's own renaissance, which has produced the Cathedral at
Chartres, the Arthurian cycle of legends, the life of St. Francis
of Assisi, the art of Giotto, and Dante's DIVINE COMEDY, was not
allowed to develop on its own lines, but was interrupted and