them insensible to the less immediate restraints of a religious character.  These phenomena are not unusual concomitants of protracted wars.  History records numerous examples of the homecoming soldiery turning the weapons destined for the foreign foe against political parties or social classes in their own country.  In other European communities for some time previously a tendency toward root-reaching and violent change was perceptible, but as the state retained its hold on the army it remained a tendency.  In the case of Russia—­the country where the state, more than ordinarily artificial and ill-balanced, was correspondingly weak—­Fate had interpolated a blood-stained page of red and white terror in the years 1906-08.  Although fitful, unorganized, and abortive, that wild splutter was one of the foretokens of the impending cataclysm, and was recognized as such by the writer of these pages.  During the foregoing quarter of a century he had watched with interest the sowing of the dragon’s teeth from which was one day to spring up a race of armed and frenzied men.  Few observers, however, even in the Tsardom, gaged the strength or foresaw the effects of the anarchist propaganda which was being carried on suasively and perseveringly, oftentimes unwittingly, in the nursery, the school, the church, the university, and with eminent success in the army and the navy.  Hence the widespread error that the Russian revolution was preceded by no such era of preparation as that of the encylopedists in France.

Recently, however, publicists have gone to the other extreme and asserted that Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Gorky, and a host of other Russian writers were apostles of the tenets which have since received the name of Bolshevism, and that it was they who prepared the Russian upheaval just as it was the authors of the “Encyclopedia” who prepared the French Revolution.  In this sweeping form the statement is misleading.  Russian literature during the reigns of the last three Tsars—­with few exceptions, like the writings of Leskoff—­was unquestionably a vehicle for the spread of revolutionary ideas.  But it would be a gross exaggeration to assert that the end deliberately pursued was that form of anarchy which is known to-day as Bolshevism, or, indeed, genuine anarchy in any form.  Tolstoy and Gorky may be counted among the forerunners of Bolshevism, but Dostoyevsky, whom I was privileged to know, was one of its keenest antagonists.  Nor was it only anarchism that he combated.  Like Leskoff, he was an inveterate enemy of political radicalism, and we university students bore him a grudge in consequence.  In his masterly delineation[273] of a group of “reformers,” in particular of Verkhovensky—­whom psychic tendency, intellectual anarchy, and political crime bring under the category of Bolshevists—­he foreshadowed the logical conclusion, and likewise the political consummation, of the corrosive doctrines which in those days were associated with the name of Bakunin.  In the year 1905-06, when the upshot