and that the only way to end war was to have but one government for mankind.  He brushed aside all other considerations.  At the very outbreak of the war, so soon as the two capitals of the belligerents had been wrecked, he went to the president in the White House with this proposal.  He made it as if it was a matter of course.  He was fortunate to be in Washington and in touch with that gigantic childishness which was the characteristic of the American imagination.  For the Americans also were among the simple peoples by whom the world was saved.  He won over the American president and the American government to his general ideas; at any rate they supported him sufficiently to give him a standing with the more sceptical European governments, and with this backing he set to work—­it seemed the most fantastic of enterprises—­to bring together all the rulers of the world and unify them.  He wrote innumerable letters, he sent messages, he went desperate journeys, he enlisted whatever support he could find; no one was too humble for an ally or too obstinate for his advances; through the terrible autumn of the last wars this persistent little visionary in spectacles must have seemed rather like a hopeful canary twittering during a thunderstorm.  And no accumulation of disasters daunted his conviction that they could be ended.

For the whole world was flaring then into a monstrous phase of destruction.  Power after Power about the armed globe sought to anticipate attack by aggression.  They went to war in a delirium of panic, in order to use their bombs first.  China and Japan had assailed Russia and destroyed Moscow, the United States had attacked Japan, India was in anarchistic revolt with Delhi a pit of fire spouting death and flame; the redoubtable King of the Balkans was mobilising.  It must have seemed plain at last to every one in those days that the world was slipping headlong to anarchy.  By the spring of 1959 from nearly two hundred centres, and every week added to their number, roared the unquenchable crimson conflagrations of the atomic bombs, the flimsy fabric of the world’s credit had vanished, industry was completely disorganised and every city, every thickly populated area was starving or trembled on the verge of starvation.  Most of the capital cities of the world were burning; millions of people had already perished, and over great areas government was at an end.  Humanity has been compared by one contemporary writer to a sleeper who handles matches in his sleep and wakes to find himself in flames.

For many months it was an open question whether there was to be found throughout all the race the will and intelligence to face these new conditions and make even an attempt to arrest the downfall of the social order.  For a time the war spirit defeated every effort to rally the forces of preservation and construction.  Leblanc seemed to be protesting against earthquakes, and as likely to find a spirit of reason in the crater