"It's a pity Saltby looks upon sarcasm in the light of instruction in art. He can paint quite decently himself, but he has no more notion of teaching than a tom cat."
Barnabas remembered that he had turned to look at the speaker, and had seen a dark foreign-looking man standing beside him. The man had looked at him sharply.
"That fellow has worried you," he said. "They're just calling rest. Come along out and have a smoke."
Barnabas remembered following him into the corridor. He remembered the curious feeling of restful strength the man had given him as they walked up and down together.
"I'm going to give you a bit of advice," he had said suddenly. "Remember this, that the opinion of one man, even if he happens to be your master, counts for nothing. The moment you touch any art--painting, sculpture, music, or literature--you're laying yourself open to criticism, and you'll find any amount of it adverse. Don't let it discourage you. If you've got the inner conviction that you can do something, forge ahead and do it. Don't be damped by adverse criticism. If you can learn from it, learn; but don't let it kill the germ of belief in yourself."
"But can't one be mistaken in the belief that one can do something?" Barnabas remembered asking.
"If you are mistaken you'll find it out for yourself," the man had replied earnestly. "My dear boy, the men who can't, and never will, do anything are those who are so cocksure of themselves that they are impervious to sarcasm and every adverse criticism under the sun. It simply doesn't hurt them. It does hurt us. It touches us on the raw. But we've got to go on. You felt like chucking the whole thing just now. I'll be bound it wasn't exactly that your self-vanity was wounded, but because you felt that it had been utterly presumptuous of you ever to have attempted to lift your eyes to the Immortal Goddess. My dear boy, she loves men to look at her and worship her, from however far off. It's those who say they are paying her homage, but who all the time are looking at and worshipping themselves, for whom she has no use. Go on worshipping her. Keep big ideas before you and one day you may get near the foot of her throne. It's not given to many to touch her knees. But to worship at the foot of the throne is something. Why, even to look at her from afar is worth years of struggle. Saltby keeps one eye on her I grant, but he keeps the other on himself, and it makes him the damned conceited and sarcastic ass he is...."