Side by side, in the heart of every free man, and every free people, are the two instincts struggling for the mastery, called by the same name, but bearing the same relation to each other as Marsyas to Apollo, the Satyr to the God. Marsyas and Apollo, the base and the noble, are, as in the old Greek legend, contending for the prize. And the prize is no less a one than all free people of this planet. In proportion as that nobler idea conquers, and men unite in the equality of mutual respect and mutual service, they move one step farther towards realising on earth that Kingdom of God of which it is written: "The despots of the nations exercise dominion over them, and they that exercise authority over them are called benefactors. But he that will be great among you let him be the servant of all." And in proportion as that base idea conquers, and selfishness, not self- sacrifice, is the ruling spirit of a State, men move on, one step forward, towards realising that kingdom of the devil upon earth, "Every man for himself and the devil take the hindmost." Only, alas! in that evil equality of envy and hate, there is no hindmost, and the devil takes them all alike. And so is a period of discontent, revolution, internecine anarchy, followed by a tyranny endured, as in old Rome, by men once free, because tyranny will at least do for them what they were too lazy and greedy and envious to do for themselves. And all because they have forgot What 'tis to be a man--to curb and spurn. The tyrant in us: the ignobler self Which boasts, not loathes, its likeness to the brute; And owns no good save ease, no ill save pain, No purpose, save its share in that wild war In which, through countless ages, living things Compete in internecine greed. Ah, loving God, Are we as creeping things, which have no lord? That we are brutes, great God, we know too well; Apes daintier-featured; silly birds, who flaunt Their plumes, unheeding of the fowler's step; Spiders, who catch with paper, not with webs; Tigers, who slay with cannon and sharp steel, Instead of teeth and claws:--all these we are. Are we no more than these, save in degree? Mere fools of nature, puppets of strong lusts, Taking the sword, to perish by the sword Upon the universal battle-field, Even as the things upon the moor outside?