"Unless," said De Vaux, "one of the learned fools we were talking of should step in; and as his vanity is always of the pugnacious kind--the vanity that will lead, instead of being led--he of course condemns what others have been praising; declares that the statue has no contour--that the picture wants breadth, force, chiar' oscuro. All the others cry out that it is evident it does so; wonder they could have admired it; and poor patient merit is kicked back into the shade." "But still, the same process takes place again," rejoined Colonel Manners. "The learned fool and his generation die off; but still, the merit of the thing remains till some one again rescues it from oblivion, and its reputation is finally established." "Indeed, now, Colonel Manners," said Mrs. Falkland, "I think that you have admitted Marian's maxim with too little limitation. That what is really good may always have ultimate success, is true, undoubtedly, when spoken of transcendent merit or of superexcellent qualities; but this transcendent merit only appears once, perhaps, in a century; and the world shows that, in the great mass of worldly things, the every-day virtues, the every-day exertions, the every-day characters which surround us in this busy existence, virtue and merit are not always ultimately successful. The religious, the political, the scientific charlatan often carries all before him; while the man of modest talent and unassuming virtue plods on his way unnoticed, and dies forgotten. So much, indeed, is this the case, that do not we daily see that many a shrewd man of real talent feels obliged to mix a little charlatanism with his other qualities for the sake of ensuring success? If Marian had said that things which are intrinsically immortal--which have in themselves inherent permanence--must have ultimate success when they are really good, and condemnation when they are bad, I would have granted it at once; but in all lesser things--and the world is made up of them--I sincerely believe that success depends upon accident or impudence." Colonel Manners smiled, and abandoned, or at least modified, his theory, admitting that Mrs. Falkland was right; for he was one of those men who, having generally reason on their side, can be candid without fear. But there was also something more than this in his candour: it sprung from his heart--it was a part of his character; and though it may seem unnatural to the greater part of mankind, it is no less a fact, that he was so great a lover of truth that, when once he was convinced, he never dreamed of contending against his conviction. He therefore gave up the position, that merit would always be ultimately successful, limiting it according to Mrs. Falkland's showing.