THE WATCH-DOG OF KNOWLEDGE

Mordax is an admirable man, ardent in intellectual work,
public-spirited, affectionate, and able to find the right words in
conveying ingenious ideas or elevated feeling. Pity that to all these
graces he cannot add what would give them the utmost finish--the
occasional admission that he has been in the wrong, the occasional frank
welcome of a new idea as something not before present to his mind! But
no: Mordax's self-respect seems to be of that fiery quality which
demands that none but the monarchs of thought shall have an advantage
over him, and in the presence of contradiction or the threat of having
his notions corrected, he becomes astonishingly unscrupulous and cruel
for so kindly and conscientious a man.

"You are fond of attributing those fine qualities to Mordax," said
Acer, the other day, "but I have not much belief in virtues that are
always requiring to be asserted in spite of appearances against them.
True fairness and goodwill show themselves precisely where his are
conspicuously absent. I mean, in recognising claims which the rest of
the world are not likely to stand up for. It does not need much love of
truth and justice in me to say that Aldebaran is a bright star, or Isaac
Newton the greatest of discoverers; nor much kindliness in me to want my
notes to be heard above the rest in a chorus of hallelujahs to one
already crowned. It is my way to apply tests. Does the man who has the
ear of the public use his advantage tenderly towards poor fellows who
may be hindered of their due if he treats their pretensions with scorn?
That is my test of his justice and benevolence."

My answer was, that his system of moral tests might be as delusive as