espondence,
was caught by the new spirit of optimism and activism, so that he
reflected clearly the new influence in his later works. But while in
Gorky the revolt is chiefly social--manifesting itself through
the world of the submerged tenth, the disinherited masses, _les
miserables_, who, becoming conscious of their wrongs, hurl defiance
at their oppressors, make mock of their civilization, and threaten the
very foundations of the old order--Andreyev transfers his rebellion
to the higher regions of thought and philosophy, to problems that
go beyond the merely better or worse social existence, and asks the
larger, much more difficult questions concerning the general destiny
of man, the meaning of life and the reason for death.

Social problems, it is true, also interest Andreyev. "The Red Laugh"
is an attack on war through a portrayal of the ghastly horrors of the
Russo-Japanese War; "Savva," one of the plays of this volume, is
taken bodily (with a poet's license, of course) from the actual
revolutionary life of Russia; "King Hunger" is the tragedy of the
uprising of the hungry masses and the underworld. Indeed, of the works
written during the conflict and for some time afterward, all centre
more or less upon the social problems which then agitated Russia.
But with Andreyev the treatment of all questions tends to assume a
universal aspect. He envisages phenomena from a broad, cosmic point of
view; he beholds things _sub specie aeternitatis._ The philosophical
tendency of his mind, though amply displayed even in works like
"Savva"--which is purely a character and social drama--manifests
itself chiefly by his strong propensity for such subjects as those
treated in "To the Stars," "The Life of Man," and "Anathema." In these
plays Andreyev plunges into the deepest problems of existence, and
seeks to posit once more and, if possible, to solve in accordance with
the modern spirit and modern knowledge those questions over which the
mightiest brains of man have labored for centuries: Whence? Whither?
What is the significance of man's life? Why is death?

If Spinoza's dictum be true, that "a wise man's meditation is not
of death but of life," then Andreyev is surely not a wise man. Some
philosophers might have written their works even without a guarantee
against immortality, though Schopenhauer, who exercised a influence on
the young Andreyev, was of the opinion that "without death there would
hardly be any philosophy"; but o