On the 24th of January 1899, when the work had been sold to Marx, and the question of allowing or not allowing any copyright in Russia or elsewhere was being discussed, he said in a letter to the present writer: "In this whole business there is something indefinite, confused, and seemingly discordant with the principles we profess. Sometimes-in bad moments - this acts on me, too, and I wish to get rid of the affair as quickly as I can, but when I am in a good, serious frame of mind I am even glad of the unpleasantness bound up with it. I know that my motives were, - if not good, at least quite innocent; and therefore if in men's eyes it makes me appear inconsistent, or even something still worse, it is all good for me, teaching me to act quite independently of men's judgment, and in accord only with conscience. One should prize such experiences. They are rare, and very useful."

When the work was drawing toward its close, and he was fagged out with the distasteful task of having to correct the weekly instalment by a fixed date, and he was approaching the very severe illness that showed itself in an acute attack on the 24th of December 1900, he wrote to another friend: "I am much absorbed in my work. And, regularly, as soon as I see the proof-sheets from Marx I feel sick and have pain. . . I am so occupied with writing the book that I spend my whole strength on it.

Other movements of the and, thank God, I see the

soul go on within me; light, and see it more and more. More and more

often I feel myself not the master of my life, but a labourer. . . .

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When the work was at last finished, he wrote on the 27th December 1899: "All that money business that I undertook, and of which I now repent, has been so tormentingly painful that now when it is over I have decided to have nothing more to do with the matter, but to return to my former attitude toward the publication of my writings - that is, while letting others do as they please with them, to stand quite aside from the business myself."

While quoting from Tolstoy's recent letters, I should like to mention the frequent and reckless mis-statements that have appeared about him of late in the press. Tolstoy was very ill-at death's door, in fact-in December 1900, and this was correctly reported in the papers; but they have frequently credited him with serious illnesses from which he never suffered; and have made the Emperor consult him about his peace proposals and pay him a friendly visit which never took place. Then, after passing an imaginary sentence of banishment upon him, they proceeded to make him a pro-Boer, eager for Boer victories. When this was pointed out to Tolstoy, he replied, on the 8th February 1900:

"Of course I could not have said, and did not say, what is attributed to me. What really took place was this: A newspaper correspondent came to me as an author wishing to present me with

a copy of his book. In answering a question of his as to my attitude toward the war, I mentioned that I had been shocked during my illness to catch myself wishing to find news of Boer successes, and that I was therefore glad to have an opportunity, in a letter to V., to express my real relation to the matter, which is that I cannot sympathise with any military achievements, not even with a David opposed to ten Goliaths; but that I sympathise only with those who destroy the cause of war: the prestige of gold, of wealth, of military glory, and, above all (the cause of all the evil), the prestige of patriotism, with its pseudojustification of the murder of our brother men,"

and added: "I do not think it is worth while replying to opinions falsely attributed to me in the papers. 'You can't salute everyone that sneezes (a Russian proverb). "For instance, I have lately received letters from America, in some of which I am reproached and in others praised for having repudiated all my convictions. Is it worth replying when to-morrow twenty more such items may be produced to fill up the columns of the newspapers and the pockets of the editors? However, do as you like about it."

But is Tolstoy satisfied with Resurrection now that it is completed?

Not altogether. In What is Art? he has shown us how necessary it is to view every work of art in two aspects: considering it in relation to (1) Form, and to (2) Subject-matter.

K

Resurrection deals undoubtedly with feelings deeply experienced by the author, and re-evoked by him in order to infect others and cause them to share these feelings with him and with each other. In reply to the question, Does it infect us?—is the form such as to produce the intended effect?-I feel no hesitation in replying for myself that it does. But its intention is to influence as many people as possible, and to influence them as much as possible; to what extent does it succeed in this attempt?

Granting that it has all the signs of genuine art -that it is sincere, and possesses both individuality and clearness-how far does it reach? A dozen versions have appeared already, and more are coming; tens of thousands of copies have been sold already, but will it reach the people? Will it, like that ancient Egyptian novel, the story of Joseph, pass from age to age, reaching rich and poor, young and old, learned and simple? No; we must admit that, to a certain extent, it is "exclusive" art: art not confined to, but chiefly suited to, leisured and cultured people, to whom a novel of over five hundred pages is not a heavy burden. Compared with other novels, especially compared to Tolstoy's former novels, and allowing for the tremendous amount of matter in it, it is not lacking in compression. The indictment against it is one which well-nigh all novels must share, but no doubt it is to some extent weighted with superfluous details, and lacking in that simplicity, brevity, and compression essential

to the form of any story that aims at becoming "universal art."

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On the 29th of December 1899, Tolstoy wrote:

... the day before yesterday I sent off the last chapters of Resurrection; I am dissatisfied with them, but feel that that task is ended, and with joy and hope I waver in the choice of my next work." Some readers complain that the hero, Nekhlúdoff, did not achieve tangible results-did not reform society, found a colony, influence the Tsar, or do something that the newspapers would take notice of. But Tolstoy is describing life as he has seen and known it. He perceives that the principles of Jesus condemn the Prince of this World, and that society, as we know it, is as certainly doomed to pass away as was imperial Rome and the slaveworld of two thousand years ago. But he knows, too, by experience, that for men to be willing co-workers with Jesus in establishing a better order of society, the first condition must be a re-birth, a change of the inner man. We must learn to see things as they are; to discern good from evil; to distinguish the real from the apparent, and to know the true purpose of human life. External changes in the form and structure of society will (as they always have done) follow and depend upon the character of the men who form the society.

We live in a time of transition, when men hardly know in which direction they wish to advance. Some believe in imperialism and the reign of force, a few believe in non-resistance and the