t do that. They
live contentedly in a circle which combines with its admiration for the
hero a comfortable feeling that, if other people knew what they know, they
wouldn't feel genius to be quite so extraordinary as is commonly believed.
And we must remember, too, that most great men seem greater afterwards than
they did at the time. More of a treat and a privilege, I mean."

"Do you think one ought to try to catch a sight of great men who are
contemporaries?" said I.

"Yes, a sight, I think," said Father Payne. "It's a pleasant thing to
realise how your big man sits and looks and talks, what his house is like,
and so forth. I have often rather regretted I haven't had the curiosity to
get a sight of the giants. It helps you to understand them. I remember a
pleasant old gentleman, Vinter by name, who lived in London. Vinter the
novelist was his son. When young Vinter became famous for a bit, and people
wanted to know him, old Vinter made a glorious rule. He told his son that
he might invite any well-known person he liked to the house, to luncheon or
dinner--but that unless he made a special exception in any one's favour,
they were not to be invited again. There's a fine old Epicurean! He liked
to realise what the bosses looked like, but he wasn't going to be bothered
by having to talk respectfully to them time after time."

"But that's rather tame," said Vincent. "The point surely would be to get
to know a big man well."

"Why, yes," said Father Payne, "but Vinter was a wise _old_ man; now I
should say to any _young_ man who had a chance of really having a
friendship with a great man, 'Of course, take it and thank your stars!' But
I shouldn't advise any young man to make a collection of celebrities, or to
go about hunting them. In fact I think for an original young man, it is apt
to be rather dangerous to have a real friendship with a great man. There's
a danger of being diverted from your own line, and of being drawn into
imitative worship. A very moderate use of great men in person should
suffice anyone. Your real friends ought to be people with whom you are
entirely at ease, not people whom you reverence and defer to. It's better
to learn to bark than to wag your tail. I don't think the big men
themselves often begin by being disciples."

"Then who _is_ worth seeing?" said Vincent. "There must be somebody!"

"Why, to be frank," said Father Payne, "agreeable men like me, who haven't
got too much authority, and are