misery of being poor.  What Jesus does say is that man reaches his perfection, not through what he has, not even through what he does, but entirely through what he is.  And so the wealthy young man who comes to Jesus is represented as a thoroughly good citizen, who has broken none of the laws of his state, none of the commandments of his religion.  He is quite respectable, in the ordinary sense of that extraordinary word.  Jesus says to him, ‘You should give up private property.  It hinders you from realising your perfection.  It is a drag upon you.  It is a burden.  Your personality does not need it.  It is within you, and not outside of you, that you will find what you really are, and what you really want.’  To his own friends he says the same thing.  He tells them to be themselves, and not to be always worrying about other things.  What do other things matter?  Man is complete in himself.  When they go into the world, the world will disagree with them.  That is inevitable.  The world hates Individualism.  But that is not to trouble them.  They are to be calm and self-centred.  If a man takes their cloak, they are to give him their coat, just to show that material things are of no importance.  If people abuse them, they are not to answer back.  What does it signify?  The things people say of a man do not alter a man.  He is what he is.  Public opinion is of no value whatsoever.  Even if people employ actual violence, they are not to be violent in turn.  That would be to fall to the same low level.  After all, even in prison, a man can be quite free.  His soul can be free.  His personality can be untroubled.  He can be at peace.  And, above all things, they are not to interfere with other people or judge them in any way.  Personality is a very mysterious thing.  A man cannot always be estimated by what he does.  He may keep the law, and yet be worthless.  He may break the law, and yet be fine.  He may be bad, without ever doing anything bad.  He may commit a sin against society, and yet realise through that sin his true perfection.

There was a woman who was taken in adultery.  We are not told the history of her love, but that love must have been very great; for Jesus said that her sins were forgiven her, not because she repented, but because her love was so intense and wonderful.  Later on, a short time before his death, as he sat at a feast, the woman came in and poured costly perfumes on his hair.  His friends tried to interfere with her, and said that it was an extravagance, and that the money that the perfume cost should have been expended on charitable relief of people in want, or something of that kind.  Jesus did not accept that view.  He pointed out that the material needs of Man were great and very permanent, but that the spiritual needs of Man were greater still, and that in one divine moment, and by selecting its own mode of expression, a personality might make itself perfect.  The world worships the woman, even now, as a saint.

Yes; there are suggestive things in Individualism.  Socialism annihilates family life, for instance.  With the abolition of private property, marriage in its present form must disappear.  This is part of the programme.  Individualism accepts this and makes it fine.  It converts the abolition of legal restraint into a form of freedom that will help the full development of personality, and make the love of man and woman more wonderful, more beautiful, and more ennobling.  Jesus knew this.  He rejected the claims of family life, although they existed in his day and community in a very marked form.  ‘Who is my mother?  Who are my brothers?’ he said, when he was told that they wished to speak to him.  When one of his followers asked leave to go and bury his father, ‘Let the dead bury the dead,’ was his terrible answer.  He would allow no claim whatsoever to be made on personality.

And so he who would lead a Christlike life is he who is perfectly and absolutely himself.  He may be a great poet, or a great man of science; or a young student at a University, or one who watches sheep upon a moor; or a maker of dramas, like Shakespeare, or a thinker about God, like Spinoza; or a child who plays in a garden, or a fisherman who throws his net into the sea.  It does not matter what he is, as long as he realises the perfection of the soul that is within him.  All imitation in morals and in life is wrong.  Through the streets of Jerusalem at the present day crawls one who is mad and carries a wooden cross on his shoulders.  He is a symbol of the lives that are marred by imitation.  Father Damien was Christlike when he went out to live with the lepers, because in such service he realised fully what was best in him.  But he was not more Christlike than Wagner when he realised his soul in music; or than Shelley, when he realised his soul in song.  There is no one type for man.  There are as many perfections as there are imperfect men.  And while to the claims of charity a man may yield and yet be free, to the claims of conformity no man may yield and remain free at all.

Individualism, then, is what through Socialism we are to attain to.  As a natural result the State must give up all idea of government.  It must give it up because, as a wise man once said many centuries before Christ, there is such a thing as leaving mankind alone; there is no such thing as governing mankind.  All modes of government are failures.  Despotism is unjust to everybody, including the despot, who was probably made for better things.  Oligarchies are unjust to the many, and ochlocracies are unjust to the few.  High hopes were once formed of democracy; but democracy means simply the bludgeoning of the people by the people for the people.  It has been found out.  I must say that it was high time, for all authority is quite degrading.  It degrades those who exercise it, and degrades those over whom it is exercised.  When it is violently, grossly, and cruelly used, it produces a good effect, by creating, or at any rate bringing out, the spirit of revolt and Individualism that is to kill it.  When it is used with a certain amount of kindness, and accompanied by prizes and rewards, it is dreadfully demoralising.  People, in that case, are less conscious of the horrible pressure that is being put on them, and so go through their lives in a sort of coarse comfort, like petted animals, without ever realising that they are probably thinking other people’s thoughts, living by other people’s standards, wearing practically what one may call other people’s second-hand clothes, and never being themselves for a single moment.  ‘He who would be free,’ says a fine thinker, ‘must not conform.’  And authority, by bribing people to conform, produces a very gross kind of over-fed barbarism amongst us.

With authority, punishment will pass away.  This will be a great gain—a gain, in fact, of incalculable value.  As one reads history, not in the expurgated editions written for school-boys and passmen, but in the original authorities of each time, one is absolutely sickened, not by the crimes that the wicked have committed, but by the punishments that the good have inflicted; and a community is infinitely more brutalised by the habitual employment of punishment, than it is by the occurrence of crime.  It obviously follows that the more punishment is inflicted the more crime is produced, and