tents or under the guidance of artistic
considerations. But at the close of each essay I have mentioned the
date of original publication, and, wherever possible, the date of
composition.

A few more words of explanation will help the reader to understand my
general design.

_Above the Battle_ and _The Forerunners_ are no more than a part of my
writings on the war, writings composed during the last five years. The
volumes contain those essays only which I have published in Switzerland.
Even so, the collection is far from complete, for I have not been able
to gather together all these writings. Moreover, the most important
materials at my disposal, as to scope and permanent value, are a
register made day by day of the letters, the confidences, the moral
confessions, which I have uninterruptedly received throughout these
years from the free spirits and the persecuted of all nations. Here,
likewise, as soberly as possible, I have recorded my own thoughts and my
own part in the struggle. Unus ex multis. The register is, as it were, a
picture of the untrammelled souls of the world wrestling with the
unchained forces of fanaticism, violence, and falsehood. A long time
must doubtless elapse before it will be judicious to publish this
record. Enough that the documents in question, of which several copies
have been made, will serve in times to come as a witness of our efforts,
our sufferings, our unconquerable faith.

ROMAIN ROLLAND.

PARIS, _June, 1919._

THE FORERUNNERS

I

ARA PACIS

De profundis clamans, out of the abyss of all the hates,
To thee, Divine Peace, will I lift up my song.

The din of the armies shall not drown it.
Imperturbable, I behold the rising flood incarnadine,
Which bears the beauteous body of mutilated Europe,
And I hear the raging wind which stirs the souls of men.

Though I stand alone, I shall be faithful to thee.
I shall not take my place at the sacrilegious communion of blood.
I shall not eat my share of the Son of Man.

I am brother to all, and I love you all,
Men, ephemerals who rob yourselves of your one brief day.

Above the laurels of glory and above the oaks,
May there spring from my heart upon the Holy Mount,
The olive tree, with the sunlight in its boughs, where the cicadas sing.

* * * * *

Sublime Peace who holdest,
Beneath thy sovran sway,
The turmoil of th