cleverness and smart cynicism, which has been in vogue for the last
period, will have had its day, that the perpetrators of such literature
will be, measurably speaking, without audience at the conclusion of the
War.

The philosophy of complacency, at least, will be at an end, and the
world will face with new earnestness the problem of life. This
generation will be tired, perhaps exhausted, by the titanic struggle;
but youth comes on, fresh and eager, with exhaustless vital energy, and
the generations to come will take the heritage and work out the new
philosophy. As Nature quickly and quietly covers the worst scars we
make in her breast, so Man has a power of recovery, beyond all that we
could dream. It is to that we must look, across the time of demoniac
destruction.

We may even dare to hope that the next half-century will see a great
development of noble literature in our own land. War for liberty,
justice and humanity always tends to create such a productive period in
literature and the other fine arts. The struggle with Persia was behind
the Periclean age in Athens. It was the conflict of England with the
overshadowing might of Spain that so vitalized the Elizabethan period.
The Revolution was behind the one important school of literature our own
country has produced hitherto.

Since this War is waged on a scale far more colossal than any other in
human history, and since liberty and democracy are at stake, not only in
one land, but throughout the world and for the entire future of
humanity, it is reasonable to expect that the stimulation to the
creation of art and literature will be far greater than that following
any previous struggle. Where the sacrifice for high aims has been