I did not hear the argument, but I heard Vincent say to Father Payne:  “Of course I couldn’t do that - it would have been so inconsistent.”

“Oh! consistency’s a very cheap affair,” said Father Payne; “it is mostly a blend of vanity and slow intelligence.”

“But one must stick to something,” said Vincent.  “There’s nothing so tiresome as never knowing how a man is going to behave.”

“Of course,” said Father Payne, “inconsistency isn’t a virtue - it is generally the product of a quick and confused intelligence.  But consistency ought not to be a principle of thought or action - you ought not to do or think a thing simply because you have thought it before - that is mere laziness!  What one wants is a consistent sort of progress - you ought not to stay still.”

“But you must have principles,” said Vincent.

“Yes, but you must expect to change them,” said Father Payne.  “Principles are only deductions after all:  and to remain consistent as a rule only means that you have ceased to do anything with your experience, or else it means that you have taken your principles second-hand.  They ought to be living things, yielding fruits of increase.  I don’t mean that you should be at the mercy of a persuasive speaker, or of the last book you have read - but, on the other hand, to meet an interesting man or to read a suggestive book ought to modify your views a little.  You ought to be elastic.  The only thing that is never quite the same is opinion; and to be holding a ten years’ old opinion simply means that you are stranded.  There’s nothing worse than to be high and dry.”

“But isn’t it worse still,” said Vincent, “to see so many sides to a question that you can’t take a definite part?”

“I don’t feel sure,” said Father Payne.  “I know that the all-round sympathiser is generally found fault with in books; but it is an uncommon temperament, and means a great power of imagination.  I am not sure that the faculty of taking a side is a very valuable one.  People say that things get done that way; but a great many things get done wrong, and have to be undone.  There is no blessing on the palpably one-sided people.  Besides, there is a great movement in the world now towards approximation.  Majorities don’t want to bully minorities.  Persecution has gone out.  People are beginning to see that principles are few and interpretations many.  I believe, as a matter of fact, that we ought always to be simplifying our principles, and getting them under a few big heads.  Besides, you do not convert people by hammering away at principles.  I always like the story of the Frenchman who said to his opponent, ’Come, let us go for a little walk, and see if we can disagree.’”

“I don’t exactly see what he meant,” said Vincent.

“Why, he meant,” said Father Payne, “that if they could bring their minds together, they would find that there wasn’t very much to quarrel about.  But I don’t believe in arguing.  I don’t think opinion changes in that way.  I fancy it has tides of its own, and that ideas appear in numbers of minds all over the world, like flowers in spring.

“But how is one ever to act at all,” said Vincent, “if one is always to be feeling that a principle may turn out to be nonsense after all?”

“Well, I think action is mainly a matter of instinct,” said Father Payne.  “But I don’t really believe in taking too diffuse a view of things in general.  Very few of us are strong enough and wise enough, let me say, to read the papers with any profit.  The newspapers emphasize the disunion of the world, and I believe in its solidarity.  Come, I’ll tell you how I think people ought really to live, if you like.  I think a man ought to live his own life, without attempting too much reference to what is going on in the world.  I think it becomes pretty plain to most of us, by the time we reach years of discretion, what we can do and what we cannot.  I don’t mean that life ought to be lived in blank selfishness, without reference to anyone else.  Most of us can’t do that, anyhow - it requires extraordinary concentration of will.  But I think that our lives ought to be intensive - that is to say, I don’t think we ought to concern ourselves with getting rid of our deficiencies, so much as by concentrating and emphasizing our powers and faculties.  We ought all of us to have a certain circle in mind - I believe very much in circles.  We are very much limited, and our power of affecting people for good and evil is very small; our chance of helping is small.  The moment we try to extend our circle very much, to widen our influence, we become like a juggler who keeps a dozen plates spinning all at once - it is mere legerdemain.  But we most of us live really with about a score of people.  We can’t choose our circle altogether, and there are generally certain persons in it whom we should wish away.  I think we ought to devote ourselves to our work, whatever it is, and outside of that to getting a real, intimate, and vital understanding with the people round us.  That is a problem which is amply big enough for most of us.  Then I think we ought to go seriously to work, not arguing or finding fault, not pushing or shoving people about, but just living on the finest lines we can.  The only real chance of converting other people to our principles or own ideas, is to live in such a way that it is obvious that our ideas bring us real and vital happiness.  You may depend upon it, that is the only way to live - the positive way.  We simply must not quarrel with our associates:  we must be patient and sympathetic and imaginative.”

“But are there no exceptions?” said I.  “I have heard you say that a man must be prepared to lose friends on occasions.”

“Yes,” said Father Payne, “the circle shifts and changes a little, no doubt.  I admit that it becomes clear occasionally that you cannot live with a particular person.  But if you have alienated him or her by your censoriousness and your want of sympathy, you have to be ashamed of yourself.  If it is the other way, and you are being tyrannised over, deflected, hindered, then it may be necessary to break away - though, mind you, I think it is finer still if you do not break away.  But you must have your liberty, and I don’t believe in sacrificing that, because then you live an unreal life - and, whatever happens, you must not do that.”

“But what is to be done when people are tied up by relationships, and can’t get away?” said I.

“Yes, there are such cases,” said Father Payne; “I don’t deny it.  If there is really no escape possible, then you must tackle it, and make the finest thing you can out of the situation.  Fulness of life, that is what we must aim at.  Of course people are hemmed in in other ways too - by health, poverty, circumstances of various kinds.  But, however small your saucepan is, it ought to be on the boil.”

“But can people make themselves active and hopeful?” I said.  “Isn’t that just the most awful problem of all, the listlessness which falls on many of us, as the limitations draw round and the net encloses us?”

“You must kick out for all you are worth,” said Father Payne.  “I fully admit the difficulty.  But one of the best things in life is the fact that you can always do a little better than you expect.  And then - you mustn’t forget God.”

“But a conscious touch with God?” I said.  “Isn’t that a rare thing?”

“It need not be,” said Father Payne, very seriously.  “If there is one thing which experience has taught me, it is this - that if you make a signal to God, it is answered.  I don’t say that troubles roll away, or that you are made instantly happy.  But you will find that you can struggle on.  People simply don’t try that experiment.  The reason why they do not is, I honestly believe, because of our services, where prayer is made so ceremoniously and elaborately that people get a false sense of dignity and reverence.  It is a very natural instinct which made the disciples say, ‘Teach us to pray,’ and I do not think that ecclesiastical systems do teach people to pray - at least the examples they give are too intellectual, too much concerned with good taste.  A prayer need not be a verbal thing - the best prayers are not.  It is the mute glance of an eye, the holding out of a hand.  And if you ask me what can make people different, I say it is not will, but prayer.”