 without
        seeing that he has come of good stock and is likely to throw good stock
        himself, this is the desiderandum. And the same with a woman. The
        greatest number of these well-bred men and women and the greatest
        happiness of these well-bred men and women, this is the highest good;
        towards this all government, all social conventions, all art, literature
        and science should directly or indirectly tend. Holy men and holy women
        are those who keep this unconsciously in view at all times, whether of
        work or pastime.«
 
If Ernest had published this work in his own name I should think it would have
fallen still-born from the press - but the form he had chosen was calculated at
that time to arouse curiosity, and as I have said he had wickedly dropped a few
hints which the reviewers did not think anyone would have been impudent enough
to do if he were not a bishop, or at any rate very high in authority. A
well-known judge was spoken of as being another of the writers, and the idea
spread ere long that six or seven of the leading bishops and judges had laid
their heads together to produce a volume which should at once outbid Essays and
Reviews and counteract the influence of that then still famous work.
    Reviewers are men of like passions with ourselves, and with them as with
everyone else omne ignotum pro magnifico. The book was really an able one and
abounded with humour, just satire, and good sense. It struck a new note, and the
speculation which for some time was rife concerning its authorship made many
turn to it who would never have looked at it otherwise. One of the most gushing
weeklies had a fit over it, and declared it to be the finest thing that had been
done since the Provincial Letters of Pascal. Once a month or so that weekly
always found some picture which was the finest that had been done since the old
masters, or some satire that was the finest that had appeared since Swift or
some something which was incomparably the finest that had appeared since
something else. If Ernest had put his name to the book and the writer had known
that it was by a nobody - he would doubtless have written in a very different
strain. Reviewers like to think that for aught they know they are patting a duke
or even a prince of the blood upon the back, and lay it on thick till they find
they have been only praising Brown, Jones or Robinson. Then they are
disappointed, and as a general rule will pay Brown, Jones or Robinson out.
    Ernest was not so much up
