Der Praefekt

his business! he had already
    done the harm, and then stayed his hand when the good which he had in
    view was to be commenced.  How delightful would it have been to have
    employed all his energy in such a cause,—to have been backed by _The
    Jupiter_, and written up to by two of the most popular authors of the
    day!  The idea opened a view into the very world in which he wished
    zu leben. To what might it not have given rise? what delightful
    intimacies,—what public praise,—to what Athenian banquets and rich
    flavour of Attic salt?
     
    This, however, was now past hope.  He had pledged himself to abandon
    the cause; and could he have forgotten the pledge, he had gone too far
    to retreat.  He was now, this moment, sitting in Tom Towers’ room with
    the object of deprecating any further articles in _The Jupiter_, and,
    greatly as he disliked the job, his petition to that effect must be
    hergestellt.
     
    “I couldn’t continue it,” said he, “because I found I was in the
    falsch. “
     
    Tom Towers shrugged his shoulders.  How could a successful man be in
    the wrong!  “In that case,” said he, “of course you must abandon it.”
     
    “And I called this morning to ask you also to abandon it,” said Bold.
     
    “To ask me,” said Tom Towers, with the most placid of smiles, and a
    consummate look of gentle surprise, as though Tom Towers was well
    aware that he of all men was the last to meddle in such matters.
     
    “Yes,” said Bold, almost trembling with hesitation.  “_The Jupiter_,
    you know, has taken the matter up very strongly.  Mr Harding has felt
    what it has said deeply; and I thought that if I could explain to you
    that he personally has not been to blame, these articles might be
    discontinued.”
     
    How calmly impassive was Tom Towers’ face, as this innocent little
    proposition was made!  Had Bold addressed himself to the doorposts in
    Mount Olympus, they would have shown as much outward sign of assent or
    dissent.  His quiescence was quite admirable; his discretion certainly
    more than human.
     
    “My dear fellow,” said he, when Bold had quite done speaking, “I
    really cannot answer for _The Jupiter_.”
     
    “But if you saw that these articles were unjust, I think that You
    would endeavour to put a stop to them.  Of course nobody doubts that
    you could, if you chose.”
     
    “Nobody and everybody are always very kind, but unfortunately are
    generally very wrong.”
     
    “Come, come, Towers,” said Bold, plucking up his courage, and
    remembering that for Eleanor’s sake he was bound to make his best
    exertion; “I have no doubt in my own mind but that you wrote the
    articles yourself, and very well written they were: it will be a great
    favour if you will in future abstain from any personal allusion to
    poor Harding.”
     
    “My dear Bold,” said Tom Towers, “I have a sincere regard for you.
    I have known you for many years, and value your friendship; I hope
    you will let me explain to you, without offence, that none who
    are connected with the public press can with propriety listen to
    interference.”
     
    “Interference!” said Bold, “I don’t want to interfere.”
     
    “Ah, but, my dear fellow, you do; what else is it?  You think that I
    am able to keep certain remarks out of a newspaper.  Your information
    is probably incorrect, as most public gossip on such subjects is; but,
    at any rate, you think I have such power, and you ask me to use it:
    now that is interference.”
     
    “Well, if you choose to call it so.”
     
    “And now suppose for a moment that I had this power, and used it as
    you wish: isn’t it clear that it would be a great abuse?  Certain men
    are employed in writing for the public press; and if they are induced
    either to write or to abstain from writing by private motives,
    surely the public press would soon be of little value.  Look at the
    recognised worth of different newspapers, and see if it does not
    mainly depend on the assurance which the public feel that such a paper
    is, or is not, independent.  You alluded to _The Jupiter_: surely you
    cannot but see that the weight of _The Jupiter_ is too great to be
    moved by any private request, even though it should be made to a much
    more influential person than myself: you’ve only to think of this, and
    you’ll see that I am right.”
     
    The discretion of Tom Towers was boundless: there was no contradicting
    what he said, no arguing against such