There is no error so monstrous that it fails to find defenders among the ablest men. Imagine a congress of eminent celebrities such as More, Bacon, Grotius, Pascal, Cromwell, Bossuet, Montesquieu, Jefferson, Napoleon, Pitt, etc. The result would be an Encyclopedia of Error.

Acton’s remark is a warning against the prestige of intellect and reputation as a substitute for truth. Even the most “monstrous” errors—moral, political, or intellectual—can attract brilliant advocates, because great minds are still shaped by interests, loyalties, ideology, and the limits of their time. By imagining an assembly of celebrated figures from different eras and persuasions, Acton underscores that authority is plural and often contradictory; collecting eminent opinions does not yield certainty but a compendium of competing rationalizations. The line anticipates modern concerns about expert disagreement and the rhetorical power of genius to dignify falsehood, urging readers to judge claims by evidence and principle rather than by illustrious names.