The highest ordainments proclaim that the human spirit is eternal and cannot be harmed. The wise heart convinces the brain that fear is the most absurd invention. But what has a striving, honest man to fear?Īll the lightning and thunder of the Universe teach us that there is nothing to fear-one has but to know. There was created an entire cult of horror. The inexperienced youth and grey wiseacres in sinister unison began to sing the hymn of fear. Only he was aware that they knew no more and could say nothing else.”Īre not all horrible words like this gabbling of birds? And is not the terrible bear but a rotten tree stem? And are not the ghostly snakes but twigs in the grass? And who are these mysterious wizards who teach the gospel of fear? Who was the primogenious being who, in a language unknown to us, for the first time uttered the cursed word “fear”? And was this first fright a real horror, or was it a ghastly mirage? But millenniums and cruel atavism embodied this first cry of horror into generations. And the wizard smiled he listened to the birds and they brought no fear to him. And the wanderers became frightened and pale, hearing this horrible judgment of the birds. And he caught birds with ingenious traps. “Under the enchanted rock, an unknown wizard had settled. What else, if not a bear, could that black spot be? And these flashing lights are not fireflies but also something horrible. It seemed as if all the snakes rose from the grass-no help, no escape! And on the path there was standing the bear himself. “How many fears! From the earth, from the trees, from the sky-whistling, crackling, and hissing. Let us rush to tell them!”Īnd even the peaceful bullfinch squeaked: “It is bad, very bad!” The magpie gossiped as if in the bazaar: “Let us rush to tell them. Pity.”Īnd the woodpecker persisted: “Let him, let him!” The oriole whistled: “Oh, you poor fellow!”įrom the top of the tree appeared a starling that took pity: “A good lad is lost. The thrush above screamed: “Terrible! Terrible!” “The crane hurried into the meadow and gabbled: “Beware, beware!” and disappeared behind the trees.Īnd above, in the foliage, the raven croaked: “ Finis! Finis!” Look, what a terrible face the forest shows! The ravines became pitch black and the boulders protruded like huge skulls. The crowns of old oaks appeared as monstrous silhouettes. Our special thanks go to White Mountain Education Association, particularly to Joleen Dianne DuBois and Kathryn Agrell, who worked so assiduously on editing the texts. We would like to thank all those who helped in the preparation of this book, and without whom its publication would not have been possible. Here, he proves himself to be a thought leader in the philosophy of culture and its place in our society.Īs his work continues to resonate with people from all over the world, we hope that this book will find its way on to the shelves and libraries of readers who care about art, culture and their fate in future generations. Roerich remains ever hopeful, which speaks to the strength of his convictions despite the uncertainty and conflict of this time. The entire upbuilding-all enlightenment, all spiritual inspiration, all happiness and salvation-will be born upon the foundation of cultural treasures.-Nicholas RoerichĪmong the many ideas Roerich discusses in this book are: the power of beauty and wisdom, the importance of respecting all living beings, and the need for creating art with limitless potential. Without exaggeration, the treasures of culture are the stronghold of a nation. His most fundamental message, one that weaves its way throughout all of his work, both on the page and on the canvas, is this: that culture-its celebration and preservation-is the basis for creating a better future for all mankind. Yet his perspective focuses on the universal and his messages resonate today just as powerfully as they did when he first wrote them. Roerich wrote the essays in this book during the 1930s and 40s, an era that now seems far removed from our own. You may wonder if it is still relevant after all these years. Readers and followers of Roerich’s prodigious output of written texts can now enjoy a new book in the series, Nicholas Roerich: Collected Writings. After many decades, the manuscript was discovered in our archive, and we are pleased and honored to be able to publish it at long last. But the economic difficulties following the Second World War, coupled with Roerich’s passing in 1947, halted its immediate publication. After Nicholas Roerich compiled Heroica in 1946, he sent it off to an Indian publishing house. The fate of this book is unusual, and the book has followed a somewhat long and winding path to publication.
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