irection my thoughts were compelled to take at the
various crossroads. If anybody detects any sort of consistency in the
choice, this will be only proof positive that wisdom had nothing to do
with it. Whether right or wrong, instinct alone is invariable; a fact
which only adds a deeper shade to its inherent mystery. The appearance
of intellectuality these pieces may present at first sight is merely the
result of the arrangement of words. The logic that may be found there is
only the logic of the language. But I need not labour the point. There
will be plenty of people sagacious enough to perceive the absence of all
wisdom from these pages. But I believe sufficiently in human sympathies
to imagine that very few will question their sincerity. Whatever
delusions I may have suffered from I have had no delusions as to the
nature of the facts commented on here. I may have misjudged their
import: but that is the sort of error for which one may expect a certain
amount of toleration.

The only paper of this collection which has never been published before
is the Note on the Polish problem. It was written at the request of a
friend to be shown privately, and its "Protectorate" idea, sprung from a
strong sense of the critical nature of the situation, was shaped by the
actual circumstances of the time. The time was about a month before the
entrance of Roumania into the war, and though, honestly, I had seen
already the shadow of coming events I could not permit my misgivings to
enter into and destroy the structure of my plan. I still believe that
there was some sense in it. It may certainly be charged with the
appearance of lack of faith and it lays itself open to the throwing of
many stones; but my object was practical and I had to consider warily
the preconceived notions of the people to whom it was implicitly
addressed and also their unjustifiable hopes. They were unjustifiable,
but who was to tell them that? I mean who was wise enough and
convincing enough to show them the inanity of their mental attitude? The
whole atmosphere was poisoned with visions that were not so much false
as simply impossible. They were also the result of vague and unconfessed
fears, and that made their strength. For myself, with a very definite
dread in my heart, I was careful not to allude to their character
because I did not want the Note to be thrown away unread. And then I had
to remember that the impossible has sometimes the trick of coming to
pass