“Plato by a goodlye similitude declareth,” said Sir Thomas More, “why wise men refraine to medle in the common wealthe. For when they see the people swarme into the streets, and daily wet to the skinne with rayne, and yet cannot persuade them to goe out of the rayne and to take their houses; knowynge wel, that if they should goe out to them they shoulde nothinge prevail, nor wynne ought by it, but with them be wette also in the rayne, they do kepe them selfes within their houses, being content that they be saffe themselves, seinge they cannot remedye the follye of the people.” And so, Plato adds, the wise man “is well content if he can in any way live his life here untainted . . . , and, when the time for his release arrives, take his departure amid bright hopes with cheerfulness and serenity.” To-day, in the countries where it is still possible, more or less, to speak one’s mind, the trouble is this: that while there is surely no ground on which angels are less likely to be ready to tread than the floors of parliaments and chancellories, we for our part are all constrained to rush in, driven no doubt by some kind of epileptic irresponsibility, congenital in human nature; and the upshot is a sort of incessant crossing of the floor of the house of commons; for finding ourselves in violent disagreement with one side we rush incontinent over to the other, where a similar process has been taking place.