his humanitarian theories received a powerful impetus from a diligent study of Rousseau.
In 1851 Tolstoi received fresh impressions from a visit to the Caucasus with his brother Nicholas. After sailing down the Volga through the country of the Calmucks, who then were still fire-worshippers, they settled down on the left bank of the Terek, not far from Kizylar, in the midst of a simple, unaffected people, spending most of their time in shooting pheasants, hunting wild boars, and wandering through fen and forest. The beauty and variety of the Caucasian scenery, where, in a few hours, one passes from the realm of eagles and snow-storms to emerald-green valleys where the dense oak forests are thick with azaleas and laurels, where myrtles and cypresses grow in the open air, and mountain ranges, dominated by the snowy caps of Elbrus and Kazbek, form an impressive background, powerfully affected young Tolstoi. Nor was he without strange adventures and curious experiences. On one occasion he narrowly escaped capture at the hands of the savage mountaineers whilst on an excursion five miles from the nearest Russian outpost, and had to ride for his life. On another occasion he lost so heavily at cards that despairing of ever being able to pay his debts he resorted, in a sudden access of religious fervour, to the desperate expedient of prayer, and while still on his knees was interrupted by the arrival of an unexpected messenger from a friend with a gift of money. It is to this residence in the Caucasus that we owe one of the most brilliant and characteristic of Tolstoi’s earlier works: “Kavkazsky Plyennik” (“The Captive in
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