murder is murder, the vilest sin in the world, and that that crime
had been committed before my very eyes. By my presence and non-
interference, I had lent my approval to that crime, and had taken
part in it. So now, at the sight of this hunger, cold, and
degradation of thousands of persons, I understood not with my mind,
but with my heart and my whole being, that the existence of tens of
thousands of such people in Moscow, while I and other thousands dined
on fillets and sturgeon, and covered my horses and my floors with
cloth and rugs,--no matter what the wise ones of this world might say
to me about its being a necessity,--was a crime, not perpetrated a
single time, but one which was incessantly being perpetrated over and
over again, and that I, in my luxury, was not only an accessory, but
a direct accomplice in the matter. The difference for me between
these two impressions was this, that I might have shouted to the
assassins who stood around the guillotine, and perpetrated the
murder, that they were committing a crime, and have tried with all my
might to prevent the murder. But while so doing I should have known
that my action would not prevent the murder. But here I might not
only have given sbiten and the money which I had with me, but the
coat from my back, and every thing that was in my house. But this I
had not done; and therefore I felt, I feel, and shall never cease to
feel, myself an accomplice in this constantly repeated crime, so long
as I have superfluous food and any one else has none at all, so long
as I have two garments while any one else has not even one.] {5}



CHAPTER III.