THE FAR-SEEING EYE

An endless snowy plain. A distant traveler moves on it like a little black dot. May be, and most likely, his goal is quite ordinary. Probably he walks in deep snow from one habitation to another, or maybe he is returning home, complaining at the difficulty in walking. But from afar he seems somehow unusual on this snowy plain. The imagination is ready to adorn him with most extraordinary qualities and, mentally, to give him quite a special mission. The imagination is even ready to envy him, walking free in the fresh air, far beyond the limits of a city full of poison.

Somehow this distant figure seen from a train window remained especially clearly impressed in the memory of a bygone day when, after the winter holidays, the time had come to go back to school in the city. Many years later, in the vistas of Asia, a similar sensation arose more than once when glimpsing some distant travelers ascending the ridge of a hill or fading into the enfoldment of a valley. Each such wayfarer, who looked like a giant dwarfed by the distance, invited all kinds of conjectures within the caravan. It was discussed: Was he a man of peace? Why is his path off the road? Why is he hurrying, and why does he travel alone?

The long ear of Asia, that one which at times acts faster than the telegraph, listens carefully. The eye accustomed to the distant horizon, searchingly watches each moving point. Let us not think that this happens only because of cautiousness, tearfulness, or mistrust. The traveler in Asia is provident and armed, and ready for any rencontre. Watchfulness is generated not only because of dangers. An attentive eye will certainly be an experienced eye. It will also be accustomed to a great deal that is unusual. The eye of an experienced traveler knows that unusual things happen not only at midnight. They may take place at midday, in the bright sun, precisely when they are least expected. Inexperience, or rather heedlessness, is ready to let even something remarkable slip by, "like a goat looking at a new gate," not noticing anything special or making any deductions.

An experienced traveler in Asia is always ready for something special. He has experience in watching the weather. He will prudently consider an unexpected horse's trail which crosses the road. He will distinguish the trail of the horsemen from that of a load. The appearance of various animals or birds also will be prudently noted. An experienced traveler appreciates it when his companions understand why he turns around, or becomes thoughtful, or senses the wind on a wet hand, or anxiously looks at the horse's ears, or observes a peculiarity of gait.

Truly, when this experience in the school of life is recorded and evaluated, it is evident that it is more sensible, as well as jollier, not to travel alone. And instead of absurd superstitions there arise before you pages of original and often very refined knowledge. It is deplorable to observe how at times this knowledge is rashly and carelessly effaced. Often one had to notice how an experienced, authoritative traveler who had begun, or was about ready, to narrate something truly significant, upon looking into the eyes of those present became silent, shaking his head or hand. "No use to scatter pearls — anyhow, they will not want to understand and may even put a wrong construction on one's words." Thus, the experienced traveler will always prefer to remain silent rather than scatter knowledge to the unworthy.

How many songs and unrepeatable tales one listens to on the desert byways! Secrets are revealed that are tightly shut in the turmoil of the cities. Often I had occasion to meet former desert traveling companions in city surroundings, and it was always amazing to observe that they appeared different, less important. Their keen ears and vigilant, searching eyes were dulled, as it were, by the dust of the city. They seemed quite ordinary people. Their remarkable knowledge and breadth of horizon seemed chained by something. This is why special details of the travels are indelibly imprinted in our memories.

There are many stories about the unusual speed of transmission of news in most remote parts of Asia and Africa. I recall a story of our friend Louis Marin. In Paris on one occasion a telegram was received about the successful arrival on a certain day of a French expedition to one of the most remote parts of Africa. When friends began to calculate how much time was needed to send this news in the usual way, to their dismay, they felt convinced that this information was obviously wrong, because it could never have been transmitted in such a short time. But later it became clear that the news was correct, and the fact that it had taken such a short time was due only to the peculiar local customs. Over great distances news was transmitted by the natives, in the nighttime, by means of prearranged drumbeats oh drums or on dry wood. Such transmission has existed since ancient times among the tribes, and certain European settlers have also used it.

What romance is contained in these mysterious night Bounds, which send urgent messages from some unknown source! Just as speedily did the "Flowers of Tamerlan," the watchtowers, transmit by prearranged fires the most urgent communications.

The heart resounds to all that is unusual, and sharply stamps these most valued impressions upon the consciousness. When we see a distant traveler upon an endless snowy plain, we think that he makes his difficult journey not by chance and not without purpose. Probably he carries important news and is expected by those who will understand the signs of the future.

Peking

December 25, 1934

CULTURE, THE VICTORIOUS

And so you like my definition of culture and civilization. One should note with justice that in India and China such a definition of the concepts of culture and civilization was understood quite readily and welcomed as something entirely natural.

But it was not thus everywhere. Sometimes it was proposed that I exclude altogether the word culture, because civilization fully expressed both concepts, as it were. I had to take down from the bookshelves various dictionaries in order to prove, at least formally, the difference between these two words. Of course my opponents did not convince me, and I am not certain that I convinced them. Maybe because of certain prejudices they still consider civilization as something tangible and culture as something abstract, ephemeral. Maybe, in spite of all proofs, some still think that the presence of a starched collar or a stylish dress is a guarantee not only of a sound civilization but also of culture. So often purely external, conventional signs are light-mindedly taken for an unquestionable achievement.

But in culture there is no place for light-mindedness. Culture is verily conscious cognition, spiritual refinement and convincingness, whereas the conventional forms of civilization depend entirely upon the passing fashion. Culture, when it arises and is affirmed, becomes indestructible. There may be various degrees and methods of its manifestation, but in its essence it is invincible, and it lives primarily in the human heart. The mind from which haphazard phrases spring up can be satisfied with mechanical civilization, whereas an enlightened consciousness can breathe only through culture. It seems, as was said long ago, that culture is that refuge in which the human spirit finds ways for religion and for everything uplifting and beautiful.

Culture is a guarantee of the impossibility of retreat. If you hear somewhere about some kinds of festivals and holidays dedicated to culture, and later learn that on the very next day something anti-cultural took place there, then do not attach much importance to these festivals. They consisted only of vain talk and falsehoods. They only defiled the luminous concept of culture. At present official days of culture are frequently observed on which people swear to each other that they will not permit any more acultural manifestations. Devotion to everything cultural is solemnly avowed, and everything coarse, negative, corrupt is denied. How good it would be if all these oaths were sincere and immutable! But shortly afterward look at the pages of the very same newspapers and you will be shocked to see that the usage of expressions and strivings not only is not purified but became somewhat more false and abominable. Does it not mean that many of those who but recently proclaimed publicly their participation in culture did not even understand the true meaning of this lofty concept? After all, taking an oath to culture imposes an obligation. One should not utter big words in vain or with evil intent. Advisedly did the apostle remind the Ephesians: "Neither filthiness, nor foolish talking, nor jesting, which are not convenient, but rather giving of thanks." "Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice…" And he also warned: "Redeeming the time, because the days are evil."

How ugly it is to utter obscenity near the concept of culture. There cannot be any vindication for this. No matter how one may try to forget the very word culture and limit it with the concept of civilization, nevertheless, even upon the lowest steps of civilized society, all coarseness is definitely excluded. Someone sorrowfully remarks about the existence of civilized savages. Of course, different forms of savagery are possible. On the one hand, one can see that at times people who were compelled to remain in the most complete solitude not only did not lose but, on the contrary, uplifted their own humanness. On the other hand, quite often, even among the so-called civilized forms of life, people have fallen into unsocial customs, info an animal-like state. Let us not cite examples, although there are plenty of them.

All this only proves the extent of the frailty of the signs of civilization, and how necessary it is to be reminded of the principles of culture. And not for pseudo-days of culture, but for the establishment of its foundations in daily life. One should not delay any longer the establishment of real days of culture. Otherwise the pseudo-festivals may become sufficient for some people. The repetition alone of the word culture does not mean that the basis of this concept is being applied.

There exist many anecdotes about the ridiculous application of various scientific terms. It is also unfitting to profane that great concept which should improve and illuminate the twilight of contemporary existence. If the lights of the cinema signs are glaring, if newspaper reports are blaring the appraisal of the blows of a prize fight, this does not mean that the days of culture are nearer.

Young people often have every right to ask their elders about the extent to which culture enters into their free time. This is not to be regarded as some impermissible rebellion of youth. This will be simply a question about a beautiful yell-ordered structure of life. Often it merely shows a young blind striving keenly beyond the limitations of conventional civilization. Children often have an insatiable desire to learn that about which they usually receive such meager formal answers from their elders. And at times there may be added ergo bibamus — let us have a drink. And thus is Underscored a complete bankruptcy of thinking.

Life, in all its new aspects, is outgrowing the concept of conventional civilization. The problems of life, growing daily, insistently propel people toward higher decisions, in the making of which it is impossible to shift the blame in conventional outworn ways. Either all the newly found possibilities are to be blended into a beautiful, truly cultural decision, or the survivals of civilization will drag the weak-willed into a savage state. And then no pseudo-festivals of culture will inspire, nor will they hold back falsehood and destruction.

But, even if in the minority, even if persecuted as in the days of old, let a few gather; and in true festivals of culture, without sophistry, without pompous twaddle, they will firmly swear to each other to follow only the paths of culture, the paths of spiritual perfectment. It should be heart is beating.

Peking

December 27, 1934

SELF-DESTRUCTION

In the middle of the seventeenth century Stepanov reported to the Yakut chieftains "…and because of the Uprisings of these people, life on the great river Amur has become hard and unbearable." Such reports and the local "chronicles related in detail the difficulties with which the building up of this frontier country proceeded, not so much because of the foreigners and members of other tribes, but precisely because of various strange internal rebellions. He breaking out of these rebellions usually is not described, but there are recounted most distressing irreparable consequences. And the result was that because of the internal disorders blows were dealt to values, of external Significance.

Was it because of a lack of vision and imagination that these aimless, self-destructive flare-ups took place? And now, are we not witnessing the same kind of logically unexplainable clashes, which are taking place with the very fine impermissible coarseness, just as in remote ages? Does not middle-of-the-road thinking, as one of the reasons, lie at the very core? There are inexpressible words in the beats of the human heart as it strives toward something better; but the mind deprived of wings limits itself by the conditions of today only. It is indignant in the face of these chance happenings; but precisely through them, and not in any other way, does it wish to find a solution.

The most complicated controversies, the piling up of newly invented complicated terminology as a seeming token of erudition — all this does not lead to, but draws away from, the needs of existence. And yet now the simple, hearty word is so needed. Not a three-storied cumbersome term, but a particle of an illumined life of fulfillment is awaited. People, ordinary folk, wish to live. They wish to adorn life as much as possible. We see how ancient tribes under even the most meager circumstances aspired and found original ways for such adornment. The masses wish to learn. The people understand very well that knowledge is not by any means an arbitrarily piled up incomprehension, but something that can be imparted in very simple, clear, not snarling, not malice-bearing words.

Everyone who has had occasion to talk to people, even in very remote localities, of course knows of this quite sensible striving toward the simplest expression. We ourselves in recalling our school and university years turn with especial warmth to those teachers who taught clearly and simply. It matters not what the subject was, whether higher mathematics, or philosophy, or history, or geography — absolutely everything could be, and was, presented in clear terms by the gifted instructors. Only the limited and the untalented became entangled in their own verbal accumulations, and often, to the secret amusement of the students, tried painfully to get out of the difficulties which they themselves had created. Frequently such ill-fated pedagogues ended their meandering explanations with a tragic, "Well, you understand." And precisely because of this lack of clarity offensive nicknames were created, uncontrollable jeering spouted forth, and an internal split resulted.

Precisely now many fields are overloaded with newly invented complications. And yet at present people are pass-Site through a particularly responsible period. No one is now satisfied with the middle-of-the-road thinking of recent years. On the one hand, nets are cast into the future, at times hurled ungovernably. And on the other hand, consciousness is directing thought to those primary sources whence the keen ear catches a great deal that unexpectedly corresponds to the latest theories. A period wherein this combination of the newest with the most ancient occurs is a responsible one. Strange as it may seem, the nineteenth century, with its many researches, appears to be one of the least convincing. The very primitive structures of nihilism in this century render it unconvincing. Each negation, every insistence on the void and non-existence are already rejected. They are rejected not only by philosophy and studies of antiquity, but also by the latest discoveries in the physical sciences. Leading scientists quite calmly speak about their religious and philosophical views, of which their fathers often would not have dared to speak openly, even for the sake of preserving their "scientific integrity." In this way, the moves that easily turn into achievement become indisputable. Truly, an achievement, in its essence, cannot be limited. Precisely in an achievement the most ancient wisdom as well as the answer to the most modern problem are easily accessible. And besides, we will be evaluating something not only in regard to its antiquity. We shall study it fully, conscientiously, and with good will. And only these honestly unlimited investigations will enable us to retrieve that which can be most concretely applied to the problems of the future. Again, if someone insists that he will take only just a bit from ancient wisdom, he will reveal himself as a hypocrite; because this "bit" can be applied only after an all embracing true study. And he who wants to put any negation into the foundation of a structure will thus mix into his cement a poisonous, corroding substance.

Many new discoveries have been given to people in recent years. And many times because of them one becomes convinced of the indescribable link of ancient times with our problems. If clear words can be found about the possibility of life and progress, the dark rebellions will recede into the realm of legends. People reading about them will only regret the lost opportunities and rejoice that the new boundaries of knowledge will help them restrain themselves from self-destruction. Clarity and simplicity — these are what the heart is waiting for.

Peking

December 28, 1934

BENEVOLENCE

How odd that things which are both benevolent and significant so often remain unrecorded anywhere! Just today we heard that the Russian Ecclesiastical Mission in Peking was saved only by the personal intercession of the Tashi Lama. In the history of religions such a sign of benevolence should be carefully preserved. It is regrettable that around religions too much evidence of coldness and negativity has accumulated. And so when one hears, in old Peking, a beautiful story of how a body of priests and religious societies once went to the Tashi Lama to beg him to help preserve the most worthy Russian Orthodox Mission in Peking, which had guarded many fine traditions for so long, and how benevolently he responded to this plea, one in sincerely glad. And not only was this plea accepted benevolently, but desirable results followed, and this significant act of high benevolence has entered into the history of the Russian Mission in Peking.

When humanity is possessed by the devils of malice and mutual destruction, every token of affirmativeness and mutual help is especially valuable. True, a great deal is known about the good acts and magnanimity of the Tashi Lama. But it is one thing when his countrymen relate it and quite another when strangers also bear good testimony about it.

People often do not realize and reflect about how valuable is the inculcation of good signs. There are certain kinds of persons who warn against all enthusiasm and even against speaking a good word out loud. Naturally, with such a way of thinking all submerges if not into total darkness then at best into greyish twilight. Antagonists of any kind of enthusiasm would like to have people respond to nothing, react to nothing, and remain shamefully indifferent to both good and evil.

In our anxious days there are quite many such grey dwellers. In great measure the responsibility for the confusion deeply imbedded in the social structure lies with them. This shocking and, at the same time, vacillating confusion is nothing but formlessness and ugliness. The very words confusion and perplexity are not far from distortion, doubt, and fear. In confusion vague insinuations are engendered. It also gives birth to all manner of anonymous calumnies. When the heart loses the tremor of exaltation, it can become prey to the tremor of confusion. And just as the tremor of exaltation impels upward and toward the beautiful, so will the tremor of confusion be limiting, depressing, frightening. What could be uglier than the spectacle of fear? The very highest concepts — honor, dignity, devotion, love, achievement — can, after all, be violated and mutilated precisely through fear. Because of fear people keep silent, renounce, and betray. And what a mass of silent disavowals and cowardly silences are revealed in daily life!

For disavowals no high words or beautiful surroundings are needed. Usually, disavowals, silence, belittlement are more suitable to the dusk. They live in a grey atmosphere wherein clear-cut forms are blurred by twilight and everything becomes indefinite. Vagueness of thoughts, indecisiveness is in reality confusion. Confusion does not sing, or mold beautiful forms, but distorts everything in trembling reflections. Thus, a bird flying over the water lightly touches the calm surface, and long afterward the forms which before had been beautifully reflected will be atremble.

One should cure oneself of confusion and fear. As one should undergo lengthy restoration of one's strength after many illnesses, so also a recovery from confusion is needed. One should not allow the confusion to become corrupt in boils and abscesses. New strong thoughts and powerful actions will be salutary and can carry the spirit out of confusion into a renewed condition. Naturally, by a change of location alone or of the living conditions, confusion will not be conquered. The potentiality of the spirit, the consciousness, roust be struck by something, and still better, should become enraptured by something.

It is impermissible to say that rapture, or to use another word, enthusiasm, cannot be accessible even to confused souls. For there are such actions, such conditions in the world as will transport the heart and thus enable it to con-1faer disturbing tremors. Beautiful creativeness, lofty knowledge, and finally the pure heart's striving to the Heavenly World — all these miracles, of which there are so many in earthly life, can easily lead even a drooping spirit into the gardens of rapture.

If people were to attempt to erase from their existence the words enthusiasm and rapture, at times ridiculed by them, how would they fill up this frightful void in their consciousness? In such desolate hearts anguish and lack of faith begin to dwell, and there appears that deadly mustiness which is found in abandoned, empty places. Entering an abandoned house, people say, "It will take a long time to make it livable." And truly such neglect even threatens with physical ailments.

To make a dwelling place livable does not mean simply to light a fire. Precisely the human presence is needed, in other words, the beat of the human heart, in order to enliven and spiritualize the arrested life.

One of the simplest examples of spiritualization will be each news about some good, unusual, and benevolent action. Thus, let us rejoice at each benevolence; for it dispels someone's confusion and replaces ugliness with beauty.

Peking

December 29, 1934

THE UNREPEATABLE

Rasmo — kropo — go — dilos!"

"No, colleague, not right!

"Rasmo — kropo — godilos!

"But this is only Vanka; he simply wrote, "Rasmokropogodilos!"

There was such a joke long ago about the Radlov Expedition for research and study of inscriptions upon the rocks and stones of Siberia. It was a joke not only because the inscriptions were undecipherable for quite some time but because people in general smirked, not understanding the significance of archaeology. The destiny of antiquities, particularly Russian antiquities, describes a tortuous path.

When there was opportunity to sketch the cross-sections of the tumuli, then it was especially painful to notice the trenches left by marauders. And often these marauders were practically the contemporaries of that very same tumulus or grave. Often the trench was dug with evident knowledge of the details of the burial, showing understanding of the value of all the objects placed there. In Egypt, in Asia, in the southern steppes of Russia the marauders frequently followed on the heels of the burial. And how many professional treasure hunters, mound diggers, tumuli seekers irreparably hindered scientific deductions.

In the chronicles of Siberian history, for example, we read: "In spite of all the dangers connected with the pursuit of this trade, some tumuli diggers turned it into a means of livelihood; they acquired such skill that from the exterior view alone of the tumuli they could determine their relative antiquity and the contents of precious metals in them. Since many of the tumuli were of considerable size, and some were also covered with heavy stones weighing from 400 to 800 pounds, the tumuli diggers organized companies of from 200 to 300 people and made a business of "mounding"".

In the eighteenth century one such company of 150 men found a tumulus along the midstream of the Irtysh and dug from it upwards of 50 pounds of gold in various forms. True, not all Siberian tumuli were so rich, yet there was so much "grave" gold and silver in circulation that in Krasnoyarsk, in the chief market of tumuli jewels, in the eighteenth century the "grave" gold was sold at 50 to 90 kopecks per zolotnik (96th part of a Russian pound). These valuables in their time formed an important part of trading in the Irbit Fair, where they were readily bought by Russians and strangers, and were widely spread beyond the Urals.

The same destiny also overtook those monuments of Siberian antiquity from which some usefulness could have been derived. The remnants of the ancient structures —  "stone babas"¹ and tombstones — often covered with the most curious inscriptions and images, were used up to recent times as grindstones or simply as material for new structures, of course without any consideration for the scientific significance of the monuments of antiquity which 'had thus been destroyed.

Hand in hand with marauding and greediness were encountered the most insufferable evidences of vandalism. Many beautiful cave frescos and carvings were destroyed by fanatics. And yet — seek closer. Do not lull yourself with the thought that such destruction took place only long ago. Do not blame only those long since moldered vandals.

Fanaticism still flourishes, and in what ingenious garments! Either it is directed by religious delusions or, in contrast, it is inspired by godlessness. The plundering of the tumuli marauders pales before the savage sweep of fanaticism.

Sometimes out of the pilferer's hands an object would come into good hands. But the rage of fanaticism knows only destruction and mutilation. Is it not terrible to think that fanaticism exists even today? Often during the hours of lectures about monuments of art and ways of life these very monuments are actually being destroyed. Say after this that the destiny of creativeness is safeguarded! Dare to insist that all is well!

Only ignorance will lull a just watchfulness. Conventional behavior will say, "Let us not disturb the orderliness of the gathering with unpleasant news." But the real danger is great. One cannot become reconciled to the knowledge that fanaticism exists in a very extensive, ugly variety.

Whether the marauder breaks an amphora, or a jeweller melts down a Cellini goblet into mere metal, whether a priceless statue be destroyed by a fanatic, or a monument by an ignoramus — in all this there is an abysmal savagery. Next to this destruction there stands also the mutilation of the beautiful creations of antiquity! Crude structural additions, patchwork, and quasi-restorations kill the soul of a monument.

After the hand of the fanatic comes the hand of the hypocrite, the haughty, and the ignoramus, each of whom in his own way changes the finest creations. As a rule, senselessly, without feeling, these often irreparable sacrileges take place. The lost beauty becomes forever frozen in a grimace of distortion. A pitiful, repulsive aspect replaces the original enchantment.

Leaving a valuable monument in the desert, we often asked the guide, "Will it be safe?" And, wise in experience, he would shake his head, "May be from beasts, but hardly from people."

Sorrowful is such a remark from a person of experience. Yet many problems are solved through opposition. Let precisely this contrariety help the benevolently minded co-workers to gather in courageous defense of all that is sacredly beautiful.

Chiefly, know more. Harken, love to read, and discuss reality. There is too much ignorance.

Peking January 1, 1935

¹ Stone sculptures of women.

continuation