The 

 Human 

 Harvest 



[22] 



like them are called to this day. It was the 

 weakling and the slave who was crowded to 

 the wall ; the man of courage begat descend- 

 ants. In each generation and from genera- 

 tion to generation the human harvest was 

 good. And the great wise king who ruled 

 them ; but here my story halts — for there 

 was no king. There could be none. For 

 it was written, men fit to be called men, men 

 who are vires, '^ are too self-willed, too inde- 

 pendent, and too self-centred to be ruled by 

 anybody but themselves.'* Kings are for 

 weaklings, not for men. Men free-born con- 

 trol their own destinies. " The fault is not 

 in our stars, but in ourselves that we are 

 underlings." For it was later said of these 

 same days : " There was a Brutus once, who 

 would have brooked the Eternal Devil to 

 take his seat in Rome, as easily as a king." 

 And so there was no king to cherish and con- 

 trol these men his subjects. The spirit of 

 freedom was the only ruler they knew, and 

 this spirit being herself metaphoric, called 

 to her aid the four great genii which create 

 and recreate nations. Variation was ever at 

 work, while heredity held fast all that she 



