no proper soul. The spirit of the upper classes was Western, and the lower had brought in with them the soul of the countryside. Between the two worlds there was no reciprocal comprehension, no communication, no charity. To understand the two spokesmen and victims of the pseudomorphosis, it is enough that Dostoyevski is the peasant, and Tolstoi the man of Western society. The one could never in his soul get away from the land; the other, in spite of his desperate efforts, could never get near it. _Tolstoi is the former Russia, Dostoyevski the coming Russia._ The inner Tolstoi is tied to the West. He is the great spokesman of Petrinism even when he is denying it. The West is never without a negative--the guillotine, too, was a true daughter of Versailles--and rage as he might against Europe, Tolstoi could never shake it off. Hating it, he hates himself and so becomes the father of Bolshevism. The utter powerlessness of this spirit, and “its” 1917 revolution, stands confessed in his posthumously published _A Light Shines in the Darkness_. This hatred Dostoyevski does not know. His passionate power of living is comprehensive enough to embrace all things Western as well--“I have two fatherlands, Russia and Europe.” He has passed beyond both Petrinism and revolution, and from _his_ future he looks back over them as from afar. His soul is apocalyptic, yearning, desperate, but of this future _certain_. “I will go to Europe,” says Ivan Karamazov to his brother, Alyosha; “I know well enough that I shall be going only to a churchyard, but I know too that that churchyard is dear, very dear to me. Beloved dead lie buried there, every stone over them tells of a life so ardently lived, so passionate a belief in its own achievements, its own truth, its own battle, its own knowledge, that I know--even now I know--I shall fall down and kiss these stones and weep over them.” Tolstoi, on the contrary, is essentially a great understanding, “enlightened” and “socially minded.” All that he sees about him takes the Late-period, megalopolitan, and Western form of a _problem_, whereas Dostoyevski does not even know what a problem is. Tolstoi is an event within and of Western Civilization. He stands midway between Peter and Bolshevism, and neither he nor these managed to get within sight of Russian earth. The thing they are fighting against reappears, recognizable, in the very form in which they fight. Their kind of opposition is not apocalyptic but intellectual. Tolstoi’s hatred of property is an economist’s, his hatred of society a social reformer’s, his hatred of the State a political theorist’s. Hence his immense effect upon the West--he belongs, in one respect as in another, to the band of Marx, Ibsen, and Zola.