I am convinced that that writer is a lost man who betrays the things of the spirit by refusing to face and decide for himself the human problem, put, as it is to-day, in political terms. He will inevitably be stunted. And not alone will his work suffer, his talent decline, until he is incapable of giving life to anything he produces—no, even his earlier work, created before he thus rendered himself culpable, and once good and living, will cease to be so, it will crumble to dust before men's eyes. Such is my belief. I have such cases in mind.