taneously in the most widely scattered parts of Russia. Connections were immediately established with the central organization. And, as if at the waving of a magic wand, the country was dotted with organizations of the relief commit

tee.

At some points these organizations assumed at once such a prestige in the eyes of the population that the local Bolshevist authorities turned over their functions to them, even though the committees did not ask for it. Such was the case at Riazan, where the local Bolsheviki-notwithstanding the committee's refusal-insisted that it assume their authority. They said they were powerless to cope with the situation. This spirit was spreading to such an extent that the Bolsheviki became terrorstricken and arrested quickly all the members of the committee at Moscow. They dispersed all local branches and accused them of conspiracies that had never existed. Numerous such examples could be cited, but this will suffice.

It has already been shown above how quickly the hitherto secret organization came out into the open during the revolution of 1917. Now, however, it is bound to manifest itself with still greater force. For, while it is true that the five years which have elapsed since 1917 have brought the Russian people severe trials and profound sufferings, it is also true that these years have brought in their wake a wealth of experience, teaching the people stern but valuable lessons, and arousing in them a desire for an enlightened, free, and well-ordered existence. Not only have the Russian people suffered, but they have also grown. This process of growth is highly significant. I shall dwell upon this phase in considering the next question-to wit, whether reaction is possible in Russia after the fall of the Bolsheviki.

Fear of reaction following the overthrow of the Bolsheviki is just as unreasonable as the fear of anarchy. In this case, too, people who talk about reaction betray either their ignorance of

the meaning and significance of the revolution, or their lack of real knowledge of the Russian people. In the first instance, they simplify the problem unduly by saying: "The people are yearning for order and a firm government. They want nothing more. This a tsar can give them. Hence it follows that they will stand for a tsar." Secondly, they visualize the Russian people, after the manner of some French writers, as nothing but big children who adore their tsar and call him fondly their "little father."

Lest I be misunderstood, let me qualify this statement. Reactionary attempts are possible and likely after the fall of the Bolsheviki. These attempts are liable to cause for a time new devastations and bloodshed, again retarding Russia's normal progress. The Russian reactionary elements abroad are now organizing themselves very energetically, recruiting their forces among the reactionary officers of the former White Guard armies in exile. They have at their disposal also considerable material resources, derived partly from foreign reactionary and imperialistic organizations, as, for instance, those of Germany. They are keeping their powder dry. At the moment when Bolshevism collapses they will attempt to jump into the gap to seize the reins of power. Such an attempt, I repeat, may cost Russia more bloodshed, chaos, and disaster, and it may delay the process of recuperation. But its result will prove the same as that which attended the movement of Wrangel and others like him with this one difference: it will be still more ephemeral and end still more ingloriously. It will not bring any enduring reaction, and no reactionary régime will follow.

If we are to understand fully why no reaction is possible in Russia, we have to elucidate the deep significance of the Russian revolution, its social raison d'être.

The bulk of Russia's population is the peasantry. It constitutes about 85 per cent of the total population. This is the force which will determine the final issue, ments in Russia. The peasantry supported the revolution, accepted it, and carried it forward with a single purpose -abolition of land feudalism in Russia. It demanded the abolition of large landholdings, the elimination of the class of land barons, and the transfer of all the land to the peasants. All the other demands of the revolution were closely bound up with this fundamental one, either arising from or merging into it. This remained the basic, principal, and determining factor. Many of the achievements gained through the revolution may even be curtailed or nullified altogether, but the land has been gained forever. Therefore, any attempt to rob the peasantry of the fruits of this victory will be the signal for a new revolution. But there is no power strong enough to do that.

It is this specific character of the Russian revolution that precludes the possibility of reaction and makes the restoration of the monarchy impossible. Monarchy in Russia has always been based upon the system of landholdings in the hands of the land barons, and cannot be of any other type. The social class interested in the restoration of the monarchy is the same. It stands for the restoration of the old, prerevolutionary feudal land system with all its privileges. The peasantry is perfectly well aware that in the wake of a monarch the former land barons are bound to follow, as well as the old forms of administration and police rule which go hand in hand with them. They will never permit that. And not only do they know this by instinct, but also by repeated experience which they have had with the socalled White Guard generals. They saw these White movements rapidly assuming a reactionary drift. And inevitably there followed in the wake of political reaction and monarchistic aspirations the land baron with his old, feudal administration. The two were linked inseparably.

It was precisely this fact that caused

to the Bolshevist armies is due the credit of delivering the heaviest and most fatal blows against the reactionaries. Not without good reason did Denikin say that his struggle with the Bolsheviki resolved itself merely into the question which side would disintegrate the sooner. The real victor in this conflict was the Russian peasantry which fought the White armies both passively and actively. Of the two evils with which they found themselves confronted-Bolshevism or the reaction of monarchism— the peasants chose the lesser, Bolshevism. For the Bolsheviki left the land to them and did not restore the feudal barons. Once the peasantry had thus decided, the White generals were doomed. Four times their experiment was repeated, and four times the result was-defeat.

It is important for the prognosis of Russia's future to find out whether the experiences of the years of revolution have been turned to good account by the Russian people. What changes have occurred during this period in the popular psychology? It is of particular importance to gain a clear conception of this change as regards the bulk of the Russian population, the peasants.

In Russia, which is pre-eminently an agricultural country, the peasantry has always played a prominent part in the economic life of the state. And now this role has come to be the dominating and paramount feature in the whole situation. In present-day Russia the peasantry is the only productive element. It is the only class that has retained, and even strengthened, its social position in the state. It stands to-day unchallenged. The feudal system of large estates has been overthrown forever. Industry and the classes dependent upon it-labor and the bourgeoisie-are, at least for the time being, crushed, weakened, and unproductive. In the future they will, of course, play an important part. For the moment, however, they are helpless.

This condition is reflected in psychological changes also. The peasants now clearly see that all the strands of life are gathered in their hands. If the peasant will furnish bread, the city, the army, and the government officials will live; if he refuses they will perish. The former psychology of semiserfdom is now making room for a new consciousness in the peasant-that of being the real master and ruler of the country, the real "boss" of his own Russia. The peasant is now undergoing a process of self-discovery as a citizen. To dispose freely of this destiny, of his heritage, of his own self, and to build the edifice of his existence as a free and sovereign citizen-these are the practical lessons derived by the Russian peasant from the school of revolution.

The revolution has brought about still other favorable changes in the psychology of the peasantry. Driven by hunger, the more cultured city population was forced to seek bread in the villages, creating there new interests and demands. Having no money to give for its bread, the city has had to barter, bringing to the village new articles unknown there before. This has inevitably created entirely new wants among the peasantry. Century-old relationships, traditional forms and molds, have been destroyed by the revolution. That which had previously seemed to be simple and preestablished, to be accepted without question, is now subjected to analysis and explanation; hence a tremendous increase in the demand for knowledge on subjects political, scientific, and technical. "The thirst for learning is overwhelming!" says a report of the Commissariat of Education. "In southern Russia peasant children have now made their appearance in the intermediary schools, making up in some cases as much as 40 to 60 per cent of all pupils. Formerly there were none. In a large number of provinces private schools have been opened which are being maintained by the peasants at their own expense, all contributing to the upkeep." People who have the opportunity to observe

..

this process on the spot say that "the face of new, dawning Russia may be perceived in this movement of the peasantry toward light and knowledge."

Another great gain has been made as a result of four years of sore trial. These difficult years have not only awakened a keen and vital sense of citizenship, but they have also forced the people to live through and feel intensely, and to realize clearly, the need for statehood, for the unity of the state.

The Russian people-builders of one of the greatest empires of the worldhave often been accused of failure to appreciate sufficiently the importance of the state, of lack of patriotism. But the Bolshevist anarchy has forced the people to realize and understand that the violation of the functions of the state spells the ruin of all social life in all its forms and manifestations. The thirst for social and political order has been aroused by life itself and will not rest until it is satisfied.

The civil war, which split Russia into isolated sections and domestic battle fronts, was equally responsible for awakening an active desire for unity. People began to realize clearly what had not been felt before that Russia is not a mere mechanical conglomeration of individual parts, but a single political and economic organism, held together by a network of railways, ports, and other common bonds. The same stern lessons of life have intensified also the meaning of "country," have made that term a tangible reality. The disintegration of the state, its losses and calamities, the national dishonor which had to be endured more than once-all this could not fail to cause a keen realization of the vital importance and significance of a native country, of a motherland.

Finally, the destruction of economie and cultural values, the senseless experimentation of the Bolsheviki, the impossibility of creative work-all this has tended to arouse an irresistible desire for creative, productive work, for the healing of the wounds dealt to the country and its economic life by the mad and destructive policy of the Bolsheviki. The thirst for vital and fruitful activity is on the increase.

I have spoken of the peasantry, for it is this class that is ultimately bound to shape Russia's destiny. A sound, mature peasantry is the economic and social foundation of the whole edifice of the Russian state. Upon this solid foundation, after the passing of the present evil days, will be reared a sound and free industrial system, with sound and prosperous classes of labor and bourgeoisie. The spiritual and intellectual formulation of this fact will be supplied by the "brains" of the nation, the intelligentsia. And no matter how much these classes of the population have been crushed down, they are already in many respects undergoing the same evolution as the peasantry-a process of spiritual and political growth.

To-day Russia is prepared for democratic, creative effort more than ever before. In her sufferings Russia is developing a new fortitude. And of her-this truly national Russia-it may be said in the words of Russia's greatest poet, Pushkin:

A heavy sledge
May shatter glass,

But also forge the sword.

Under the sledge-hammer blows of seemingly unendurable affliction Russia has not been shattered like fragile glass. Russia has merely learned to forge a new, indomitable will, her liberty and her glorious future.

Notwithstanding all her vicissitudes, Russia will recover economically faster than may appear possible at first sight. In this respect we may apply to Russia that old Russian proverb, "There would have been no good luck if ill luck had not helped."

Russia's misfortune prior to the revolution consisted in the poor development of her productive resources, of her industry. But it is due to this very fact that

Russia's chief resources are not on the surface, but still in the bowels of the earth. Destruction, therefore, has failed to reach the most important economic resources of the country-her mineral wealth, boundless forests, and most fertile sections of land. The exploitation of all this wealth is left to the future. And therein-combined with the energy of the people and a rational system of work -lies the possibility of the rapid recovery of that richest of countries. Under conditions of free labor and individual initiative, and with the vigorous cooperation of the whole nation, Russia will be able to march forward on the road of economic evolution in seven-league boots.

Of course, an indispensable condition of such quick progress and rapid healing of wounds must be close co-operation with foreign capital. Foreign capital should prove beneficial to Russian labor as well as to a proper utilization of natural resources. Given these conditions, it is possible that Russia may see a development comparable to that of the United States after the Civil War. Foreign capital played a most important part in American reconstruction.

Such co-operation on the part of American capital would be particularly welcomed by democratic Russia. In the first place, American capital is at the present moment the most powerful. In the second place, America has been throughout Russia's period of revolutionary trials exceptionally well-meaning and unselfish. The United States has always been, just as she is to-day, the champion of Russian democracy and of the integrity of Russia's territorial and sovereign rights. It is America that has come to the relief of Russia's dying, famine-stricken population. This will never be forgotten by future Russia. It establishes a solid basis for peaceful cooperation of both countries in the domain of world politics as well as economics.

the doors of the big red house for more than an hour. Well dressed, eager, discreetly jocular, even, over its democratic curiosity that kept it waiting in the chill drizzle of an autumn evening to catch sight of a prince.

Except in the matter of lingering on the red carpet-impressive as the roll of a trumpet-the police were conspicuously human. From time to time a serving man whose natural habitat should have been the stage came from the house and brushed up the scarlet strip with the melancholy resignation of the well trained.

Guests were beginning to arrive; important-looking men in penguinlike evening clothes; officers with captive rainbows on their sober khaki chests; women magnificently glittering as the cast skin of snakes, ermine and sables trailing, nothing left but to melt a pearl, like Cleopatra. At last came the princesimplest of the lot-fair, boyish, appealingly conscious as his hand shot up in acknowledgment of the cheer of welcome. The oaken doors swung in. Presumably the peepshow was over.

Down the street, murderous in its onrush, sped a taxi; out fell a girl, pale as if she had been dragged from a sick bed. For a moment the crowd drank its fill of the lovely creature who broke all the polite commandments by arriving after royalty. Traces of tears were plainly visible to those favored with a "closeup." Here was real drama. Again the crowd took root.

With nervous fingers the girl pressed the bell; the oaken doors did not yield. Again she rang; no response from within. She reached for the big brass knocker and hammered; breathless, the crowd

virgin. In despair she motioned to the taxi-breathingeasier now and preparing to depart-not to go. Then the doors opened a grudging inch or two. Was she, perchance, a prying newspaper person?

"I'm expected to dinner," she gasped, and gave the name. Forlorn on the peninsula of red carpet-separating the favored within from the spectators without - she stood while the footman arrived at the most momentous decision of his life. Would a guest have the temerity to arrive after the prince? Beauty won. The footman opened the door wide enough for her to slip through. The crowd began to melt, buzzing bits of her family history which had been lived a good deal in headlines.

The girl did not know how she managed to drag herself up the flight of stairs that led to the drawing-room. Her own identity slipped, she was watching the plight of some one named Phyllis Brandon.

Her hostess, on the way to the dining room with the guest of honor, saw her and "registered" the feelings of one confronted by a "situation." The equerry's coaching had not touched on such a contingency; it was unthinkable anyone could be late.

The blond young man about whom the spectacle turned appeared to be a person of infinite resource. He acknowledged the belated one's curtsy-one felt that the tremendous contretemps rather amused him. The hostess, despite an impulse to murder, said the right word. A sixth sense, working automatically, sent the queue of celebrities to the dining room with an exhilarating sense of adventure.