Many years ago I was discussing with Father M. a fairly obscure point of Catholic scholarship, and, rather out of my depth, asked him what Ronald Knox had had to say on the subject. ‘Ah, well’, he replied, ‘Ronnie Knox is of course hors de concours.’

And something slipshod in my mental French translation left me surprised at hearing Monsignor Knox spoken of as hors de combat! Later, amused at my mistake, I passed it on to Monsignor himself, thinking it would amuse him too; and ‘I expect I will be hors de combat next Wednesday’, he remarked; ‘I’m flying for the first time, out to Uganda.’

And I have since wondered what his mind did with that description of himself as hors de concours, for it was certainly by no visible act of diffidence that his comment had left it discarded on the floor. I was still to learn that this great prelate of modem times, this famous wit and scholar, was celled with humility like honey in the comb; an innate humility; he could no more keep it concealed than some people can conceal their innate arrogance. Yet by some spiritual poise he was likewise immune from having to supply those tiresome protestations of inferiority which Freud forgot to remove sharply into a wholly separate classification; true humility exists in its own air of freedom, and when we are in its presence perhaps we remark ‘there must be humility in the room’ as we might say ‘there must be violets in the room’. . .. But an inferiority complex is a miserable sandwich-man with boards front and back; and if their announcements are blatant, the person has an extrovert inferiority-complex: but if the sandwich boards get lugged about with their message turned inwards so that we cannot see what it is, they have an introvert inferiority-complex, just as tiresome.