"Perhaps," said Colonel Manners, "knowledge of all kinds may be like the fabled cup, whose influence entirely depended upon those who drank from it--to some it was death, to others immortal life; wisdom to some, and foolishness to others. And thus I should think a great acquaintance with any art, in some instances--where the taste was good and the mind was strong--would refine the taste and give humility to the mind, by showing what an unfathomable mine of undiscovered things every study presents; while in other cases--where the taste was null and the mind weak--the result would be the vanity of ill-digested knowledge, and an idle gabble of unmeaning terms." "And how often would the latter be the case when compared with the former?" said De Vaux. "Answer me, my dear colonel." "I am afraid, indeed, nine hundred and ninety-nine times out of a thousand," replied Colonel Manners: "and what, I must confess, is worse still, the proportion of those who would bow to the vanity of ill-digested knowledge, and give implicit credit to the gabble of unmeaning terms, would be still greater; while taste, and genius, and mind would be forced to content themselves with the poor thousandth part of those whom they addressed." "Then how is it, Colonel Manners," said Marian, "that we are told that what is really good has always ultimate success, notwithstanding this terrific array of folly against it?" "Because truth is permanent in its very essence; and falsehood--of every kind, as well false tastes as false statements--is evanescent," replied Colonel Manners. "Such is, I suppose, the broad reason; but, to examine it more curiously, we shall find the progress of the thing somewhat amusing: for even the ultimate establishment of truth and wisdom is, in a great measure, owing to the voice of the false and foolish. Here is a fine picture or a fine statue, of that chaste but not attractive kind which ensures the admiration of those who can feel beauty, but does not win the attention of the crowd. A man without taste sees a man of taste gazing at it; hears him praise its beauties; and, as there is nothing so servile or so vain as folly, instantly affects to perceive the beauties which he never saw, and goes forth to trumpet them as things of his own discovery. Others come to see, and, as one fool will never be outdone by another, each sings its praises in the same vociferous tone, each gains his little stock of self-complacency from praising what others praise, and the reputation of the thing is established."