“Now that may not be a sympathetic or even Christian way of doing things,” he went on presently, “but for all that, I do love to see the force of life, the intentness of living.  I like our friend the beech a little better, because he is helping his friends, though he doesn’t know it, and the thistle is only helping himself.  But I am sure that it is the right way to go at it!  We mustn’t be always standing aside and making room:  we mustn’t obliterate ourselves.  We have a right to our joy in life, and we mustn’t be afraid of it.  If we give away what we have got, it must cost us something—­it must not be a mere relinquishing.”

“It is rather hard to combine the two principles,” I said—­“the living of life, I mean, and the giving away of life.”

“Well, I think that devotion is better than self-sacrifice,” said Father Payne.  “On the whole I mistrust weakness more than I mistrust strength.  It’s easy to dislike violence—­but I rather worship vitality.  I would almost rather see a man forcing his way through with some callousness, than backing out, smiling and apologising.  You can convert strength, you can’t do anything with weakness.  Take the sort of work you fellows do.  I always feel I can chasten and direct exuberance:  what I can’t do is to impart vigour.  If a man says his essay is short because he can’t think of anything to write, I feel inclined to say, ‘Then for goodness’ sake hold your tongue!’ It’s the people who can’t hold their tongue, who go on roughly pointing things out, and commenting, and explaining, and thrusting themselves in front of the show, who do something.  Of course force has to be kept in order, but there it is—­it lives, it must have its say.  What you have to learn is to insinuate yourself into life, like ivy, but without spoiling other people’s pleasure.  That’s liberty!  The old thistle has no respect for liberty, and that is why he is rooted up.  But it’s rather sad work doing it, because he does so very much want to be alive.  But it isn’t liberty simply to efface yourself, because you may interfere with other people.  The thing is to fit in, without disorganising everything about you.”

He mused for a little in silence; then he said, “It’s like almost everything else—­it’s a weighing of claims!  I don’t want you fellows to be either tyrannical or slavish.  It’s tyrannical to bully, it’s slavish to defer.  The thing is to have a firm opinion, not to be ashamed of it or afraid of it; to say it reasonably and gently, and to stick to it amiably.  Good does not attack, though if it is attacked it can slay.  Good fights evil, but it knows what it is fighting, while evil fights good and evil alike.  I think that is true.  I don’t want you people to be controversial or quarrelsome in what you write, and to go in for picking holes in others’ work.  If you want to help a man to do better, criticise him privately—­don’t slap him in public, to show how hard you can lay on.  Make your own points, explain if you like, but don’t