“You long for the rule of the ablest man, everywhere, at all times? To find your ablest man, and then give him power, and obey him—that you hold to be about the highest act of wisdom which a nation can be capable of?” “Yes; and you know you believe that too, Hardy, just as firmly as I do.” “I hope so. But then, how about our universal democracy, and every man having a share in the government of his country?” Tom felt that his flank was turned; in fact, the contrast of his two beliefs had never struck him vividly before, and he was consequently much confused. But Hardy went on tapping a big coal gently with the poker, and gave him time to recover himself and collect his thoughts. “I don’t mean, of course, that every man is to have an actual share in the government,” he said at last. “But every man is somehow to have a share; and, if not an actual one, I can’t see what the proposition comes to.” “I call it having a share in the government when a man has share in saying who shall govern him.” “Well, you’ll own that’s a very different thing. But, let’s see; will that find our wisest governor for us—letting all the foolishest men in the nation have a say as to who he is to be?” “Come now, Hardy, I’ve heard you say that you are for manhood suffrage.” “That’s another question; you let in another idea there. At present we are considering whether the _vox populi_ is the best test for finding your best man. I’m afraid all history is against you.” “That’s a good joke. Now, there I defy you, Hardy.” “Begin at the beginning, then, and let us see.” “I suppose you’ll say, then, that the Egyptian and Babylonian empires were better than the little Jewish republic.” “Republic! well, let that pass. But I never heard that the Jews elected Moses, or any of the judges.” “Well, never mind the Jews; they’re an exceptional case: you can’t argue from them.” “I don’t admit that. I believe just the contrary. But go on.” “Well, then, what do you say to the glorious Greek republics, with Athens at the head of them?” “I say that no nation ever treated their best men so badly. I see I must put on a lecture in Aristophanes for your special benefit. Vain, irritable, shallow, suspicious old Demus, with his two oboli in his cheek, and doubting only between Cleon and the sausage-seller, which he shall choose for his wisest man—not to govern, but to serve his whims and caprices. You must call another witness, I think.” “But that’s a caricature.” “Take the picture, then, out of Thucydides, Plato, Xenophon, how you will—you won’t mend the matter much. You shouldn’t go so fast, Brown; you won’t mind my saying so, I know. You don’t get clear in your own mind before you pitch into every one who comes across you, and so do your own side (which I admit is mostly the right one) more harm than good.”