‘The common sense of this plan is the great recommendation of it. You have a great intelligent class to enfranchise, and by lowering the franchise in great cities you will enfranchise it. But in the mass of the boroughs there is no such class. Where, as the Times justly asked, is “there in Thetford the instructed, intelligent political class that our reformers speak of?” Why, then, touch Thetford? We wish to lower the franchise because we wish to give votes to a special class. In the mass of boroughs that class is not to be found; why, then, alter the franchise in the mass of boroughs? A great argument for this plan, too, is that which Mr Buxton put so happily in his letter to the Times,—“a Parliament composed of human beings might vote for it.” He found, he said, that the indiscriminate adoption of the minority principle, as it is called—of the permission, that is, to concentrate his votes on any candidate he likes—would change so many seats at the next election, that it could never be got through the House of Commons. So many people would feel they were voting for their own destruction. We rather fear that the same objection would apply to the plan which Mr Buxton proceeded to suggest, the giving a greater number of votes to the rich than to the poor. This, too, being a great diffused change affecting all constituencies, and affecting them much, would be very difficult to pass. Everybody would feel “that may hurt me in my borough. It is an unknown element. I am in now, but after this newfangled thing is introduced I may not come in.” We fear the universal action of selfish fear upon every member for every seat.

‘But, according to the plan we have put forward, the great mass of seats and boroughs would not be touched at all. Their members would say, “This is a good Bill; this does not ‘touch us.’ ” Of course, the members for the places from which seats were to be taken would be sure to complain, and perhaps the places where the constituency was to be augmented might also complain. But the virtuous indignation of an uninjured majority would soon tread down the selfishness of these few. Mr Roebuck would rise and ask “If the selfishness of a small minority was to be despotic in this country?” And the vast majority, happy to escape being hurt themselves, would feel a pleasant patriotism in the necessary immolation of the selected few.

‘As we said, we propose this plan—saying that it includes an anomaly, and even because it includes an anomaly. Nothing, as we before proved at length, which does not include an extraordinary uncommon element will achieve the work which there is to do. We concede the exceptional nature of our scheme, but we believe that something exceptional is necessary and that this is the minimum of exception.’

I do not know whether such a scheme as this is now possible. Perhaps the passions of men have become too excited, and a more commonplace plan is all which can be hoped for. But I am sure it was possible when the above article was written, and that it would have saved us from many evils.