never make a soldier. I love being in a rage--no one more--it has all the
advantages and none of the disadvantages of getting drunk. But I can't do
it on the word of command."

"Isn't that what is called hedonism?" said Lestrange.

"You must not get in the way of calling names!" said Father Payne;
"hedonism is a word invented by Puritans to discourage the children of
light. It is not a question of doing what you like, but of liking what you
do. Of course everyone has got to choose--you can't gratify all your
impulses, because they thwart each other; but if you freely gratify your
finer impulses, you will have much less temptation to indulge your baser
inclinations. It is more important to have the steam up and to use the
brake occasionally, than never to have the steam up at all."

XXXII

OF HUMILITY

We had been listening to a paper by Kaye--a beautiful and fanciful piece of
work; when he finished, Father Payne said: "That's a charming thing,
Kaye--a little sticky in places, but still beautiful."

"It's not so good as I had hoped," said Kaye mildly.

"Oh, don't be humble," said Father Payne; "that's the basest of the
virtues, because it vanishes the moment you realise it! Make your bow like
a man. It may not be as good as you hoped--nothing ever is--but surely it
is better than you expected?"

Kaye blushed, and said, "Well, yes, it is."

"Now let me say generally," said Father Payne, "that in art you ought never
to undervalue your own work. You ought all to be able to recognise how far
you have done what you intended. The big men, like Tennyson and Morris,
were always quite prepared to praise their own work. They did it quite
modestly, more as if some piece of good fortune had befallen them than as
if they deserved credit. There's no such thing as taking credit to oneself
in art. What you try to do is always bound to be miles ahead of what you
can do--that is where the humility comes in. But a man who can't admire his
own work on occasions, can't admire anyone's work. If you do a really good
thing, you ought to feel as if you had been digging for diamonds and had
found a big one. Hang it, you _intend_ to make a fine thing! You are
not likely to be conceited about it, because you can't make a beautiful
thing every day; and the humiliation comes in when, after turning out a
good thing, you find yourself turning out a row of bad ones. The only
artists who are conceited are those who can't distinguish betw