that a man should not express himself with regard to another man's
wretchedness by interest only; and this will be a good thing. Then
let assistance be rendered to all those unfortunates, of whom there
are not so many as I at first supposed in Moscow, who can easily be
helped by money alone to a great extent. Then let those laborers who
have come to Moscow and have eaten their very clothing from their
backs, and who cannot return to the country, be despatched to their
homes; let the abandoned orphans receive supervision; let feeble old
men and indigent old women, who subsist on the charity of their
companions, be released from their half-famished and dying condition.
(And this is very possible. There are not very many of them.) And
this will also be a very, very great deal accomplished. But why not
think and hope that more and yet more will be done? Why not expect
that that real task will be partially carried out, or at least begun,
which is effected, not by money, but by labor; that weak drunkards
who have lost their health, unlucky thieves, and prostitutes who are
still capable of reformation, should be saved? All evil may not be
exterminated, but there will arise some understanding of it, and the
contest with it will not be police methods, but by inward modes,--by
the brotherly intercourse of the men who perceive the evil, with the
men who do not perceive it because they are a part of it.

No matter what may be accomplished, it will be a great deal. But why
not hope that every thing will be accomplished? Why not hope that we
shall accomplish thus much, that there shall not exist in Moscow a
single person in want of clothing, a single hungry person, a single
human being sold for money, nor a single individual oppressed by the
judgment of man, who shall not know that there is fraternal aid for
him? It is not surprising that this should not be so, but it is
surprising that this should exist side by side with our superfluous