There are several types of intellect, with innumerable variations and combinations. Some see but do not observe. They note effects but look upon them as facts and never seek a cause. Tides lift and rock their boats but they ask not why. They stand at Niagara and view with some outward evidence of delight a stream of water and an awful abyss, but they lift neither their thoughts nor their eyes towards the invisible current of equal volume passing from Nature’s great evaporator, over Nature’s incomprehensible transportation system, back to the mountains, that the rivers may continue to flow to the sea and yet the sea be not full. That class will find little in this volume to commend, and much to criticise.

A man is not a pessimist who, when he hears the roar and sees the funnel-shaped cloud, directs his children to the pathway leading to the cyclone cellar. He is not a pessimist who, after noting forty years of boastful planning, realizes that war is inevitable, and urges preparedness. But the man is worse than a pessimist—he is a fool—who stands in front of a cyclone, rejoicing in the manifestation of the forces of nature, or faces a world war, expatiating on the greatness of his country and the patriotism and prowess of his countrymen.

It is commonly believed that Nero fiddled while Rome burned. Conceding that he did, it was relatively innocent folly compared to the way many Americans fiddled, and fiddled, and fiddled, and fiddled, until Germany was well on the way to world domination. Coming in at fabulous cost and incalculable waste, and saving the situation at the sixtieth minute of the eleventh hour, we not only claim a full day’s pay but seem to resent that those who toiled longer, with no more at stake, are asking that honors be divided.

We are now facing a far worse danger than the armed hosts of the Central Powers—a frenzied mob each day extending its influence, and multiplying its adherents. Shall we again fiddle and fiddle, and fiddle and fiddle, or shall we both think and act?

For six thousand years the human race has experimented in governments and only China boasts of its antiquity. During this period almost every possible form of government was tried but nothing stood the test of the ages. The few surviving pages of the uncertain history of nations that have existed and are no more, give ample proof that the task of self-government is the severest that God in his wisdom has ever placed upon His children.

When this government was launched the world said it would not endure. It has both existed and prospered for more than a century and a quarter, but there is no thinking man between the seas, and no thinking man beyond the seas, who does not recognize that representative government, in the great republic, is still in its experimental stage. Even Washington declared he dared not hope that what had been accomplished or anything he might say would prevent our Nation from “running the course which has hitherto marked the destiny of nations.”

It is said that when Galusha Grow entered Congress he carried a letter of introduction to Thomas Benton, then just concluding his thirty years of distinguished service. Naturally, Senator Benton was pleased with the brilliant Pennsylvanian, for he said to him: “Young man, you have come too late. All the great problems have been solved.” Ah! they had not been. Mr. Grow lived to help solve some; others have since been solved; more confront us now than ever before in our history, and the sky is lurid with their coming. If we are to continue a great self-governing and self-governed nation, we must spend some time in the study of statecraft, the most involved, the most complex, and, barring human redemption, the most important subject that ever engaged the attention of thinking men.

About the only subject which vitally affects all, and yet to which few give serious thought, is the science of government. Our farms and our factories, our mills and our mines, together with current news, much of it frivolous, and little of it thought-inspiring, engage our attention, but statecraft, as distinguished from partisan politics, is accorded scant consideration. In the first place we are too busy, and, secondly, we do not improve even our available time. A young New Englander was asked how his people spent their long winter evenings. “Oh,” said he, “sometimes we sit by the fire and think, and sometimes we sit by the fire.” It is the hope of the author that the following pages will invite attention to some problems that in his humble judgment must be thought out at the fireside, and must be wisely solved, if we expect to keep our country on the map, and our flag in the sky until the Heavens shall be rolled together as a scroll.

Recent years have demonstrated the abiding patriotism of the American people and their faith in the ever-increasing greatness of America. Few there be who would not gladly die for their country. The only thing they are not willing to do is to think, and then hold their conduct in obedience to their judgment. The future of our blessed land rests with those who can think, who will think, who can and will grasp a major premise, a minor premise and drawing a conclusion therefrom, never desert it.

It has become painfully commonplace to say that the American people can be trusted. While their good intentions can be relied upon, no nation will long exist on good intentions. The nations that have gone from the map have perished in spite of good intentions. The future of America rests not in the purity of motives, nor upon the intelligence, but in the wisdom of its citizens. In the realm of statecraft some of the most dangerous characters in history have been intelligent, pious souls, and some of the safest and wisest have been unlearned.

Socrates taught by asking questions. So far as possible he who is interested enough to read this volume will be expected to draw his own conclusions. The facts stated are historically correct. What deductions I may have drawn therefrom is relatively immaterial. The question of primary importance to you will be, and is, what conclusions you draw. And even your conclusions will be worthless to you and to your country unless your conduct as a citizen is in some degree influenced and controlled thereby.

From the monument that a grateful people had erected to a worthy son I read this extract from a speech he had made in the United States Senate: “He who saves his country, saves himself, saves all things, and all things saved bless him; while he who lets his country perish, dies himself, lets all things die, and all things dying curse him!”

Washington, D.C., March, 1919.