This little court is the Vatican of England. Here reigns a pope, self-nominated, self-consecrated – ay, and much stranger too – self-believing! – a pope, whom, if you cannot obey him, I would advise you to disobey as silently as possible… It is a fact amazing to ordinary mortals that the Jupiter is never wrong. With what endless care, with what unsparing labour, do we not strive to get together for our great national council the men most fitting to compose it And how we fail! Parliament is always wrong: look at the Jupiter, and see how futile are their meetings… Were it not well for us in our ignorance that we confided all things to the Jupiter? Would it not be wise in us to abandon useless talking, idle thinking and profitless labour? Away with majorities in the House of Commons, with verdicts from judicial bench given after much delay, with doubtful laws, and the fallible attempts of humanity! Does not the Jupiter, coming forth daily with fifty thousand impressions full of unerring decision on every mortal subject, set all matters sufficiently at rest?

 Anthony Trollope, “The Warden”.

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