not--of whatever country they may be.

Furthermore, if I were to set about writing an Introduction in the light
of all that we see and feel now, after the Great War, and, still more,
of what we foresee and forefeel, I should be led into writing yet
another book. And that is a thing to be done with deliberation and only
after having better digested this terrible peace, which is nothing else
but the war's painful convalescence.

As for many years my spirit has been nourished upon the very core of
English literature--evidence of which the reader may discover in the
following pages--the translator, in putting my _Sentimiento Trágico_
into English, has merely converted not a few of the thoughts and
feelings therein expressed back into their original form of expression.
Or retranslated them, perhaps. Whereby they emerge other than they
originally were, for an idea does not pass from one language to another
without change.

The fact that this English translation has been carefully revised here,
in my house in this ancient city of Salamanca, by the translator and
myself, implies not merely some guarantee of exactitude, but also
something more--namely, a correction, in certain respects, of the
original.

The truth is that, being an incorrigible Spaniard, I am naturally given
to a kind of extemporization and to neglectfulness of a filed niceness
in my works. For this reason my original work--and likewise the Italian
and French translations of it--issued from the press with a certain
number of errors, obscurities, and faulty references. The labour which
my friend Mr. J.E. Crawford Flitch fortunately imposed upon me in making