Rose told a story one night which amused Father Payne immensely.  He had been up in town, and had sate next a Minister’s wife, who had been very confidential.  She had said to Rose that her husband had just been elected into a small dining-club well known in London, where the numbers were very limited, the society very choice, and where a single negative vote excluded a candidate.  “I don’t think,” said the good lady, “that my husband has ever been so pleased at anything that has befallen him, not even when he was first given office—­such a distinguished club—­and so exclusive!” Father Payne laughed loud and shrill.  “That’s human nature at its nakedest!” he said.  “It’s like Miss Tox, in Dombey and Son, you know, who, when Dombey asked her if the school she recommended was select, said, ’It’s exclusion itself!’ What people love is the power of being able to exclude—­not necessarily disagreeable people, or tiresome people, but simply people who would like to be inside—­

  “‘Loving not, hating not, just choosing so.’

“Those are the two great forces of society, you know—­the exclusive force, and the inclusive force:  the force that says, ’We few, we happy few, we band of brothers’; and the force which says, ‘The more the merrier.’  The exclusive force is represented by caste and class, by gentility and donnishness, by sectarianism and nationalism, and even by patriotism—­and the inclusive force is represented by Walt Whitmanism and Christianity.”

“But what about St. Paul’s words,” said Lestrange, “’Honour all men:  love the brotherhood’?”

“That’s an attempt to recognise both,” said Father Payne, smiling.  “Of course you can’t love everyone equally—­that’s the error of democracy—­democracy is really one of the exclusive forces, because it excludes the heroes—­it is ’mundus contra Athanasium,’—­it is best illustrated by what the American democrat said to Charles Kingsley, ’My principle is “whenever you see a head above the crowd, hit it."’ Democracy is, at its worst, the jealousy of the average man for the superior man.”

“But which is the best principle?” said Vincent.

“Both are necessary,” said Father Payne.  “One must aim at inclusiveness, of course:  and we must be quite certain that we exclude on the ground of qualities, and not on the ground of superficial differences.  The best influences in the world arise not from individuals but from groups—­and there is no sort of reason why groups should spoil their intensive qualities by trying to admit outsiders.  The strength of a group lies in the fact that one gets the sense of fellowship and common purpose, of sympathy and encouragement.  A man who has to fight a battle single-handed is always tempted to wonder whether, after all, it is worth all the trouble and misunderstanding.  But, on the other hand, you are at liberty to mistrust the men who say that they don’t want to know people.  Do you remember how Charles Lamb once said, ‘I do hate the Trotters!’