life surrounding me, have suddenly become clear; and my position in
the midst of these phenomena, which was formerly strange and
burdensome, has become, all at once, natural, and easy to bear.

In this new position, my activity was defined with perfect accuracy;
not at all as it had previously presented itself to me, but as a new
and much more peaceful, loving, and joyous activity. The very thing
which had formerly terrified me, now began to attract me. Hence I
think, that the man who will honestly put to himself the question,
"What is to be done?" and, replying to this query, will not lie to
himself, but will go whither his reason leads, has already solved
the problem.

There is only one thing that can hinder him in his search for an
issue,--an erroneously lofty idea of himself and of his position.
This was the case with me; and then another, arising from the first
answer to the question: "What is to be done?" consisted for me in
this, that it was necessary for me to repent, in the full sense of
that word,--i.e., to entirely alter my conception of my position and
my activity; to confess the hurtfulness and emptiness of my
activity, instead of its utility and gravity; to confess my own
ignorance instead of culture; to confess my immorality and harshness
in the place of my kindness and morality; instead of my elevation,
to acknowledge my lowliness. I say, that in addition to not lying
to myself, I had to repent, because, although the one flows from the
other, a false conception of my lofty importance had so grown up
with me, that, until I sincerely repented and cut myself free from
that false estimate which I had formed of myself, I did not perceive
the greater part of the lie of which I had been guilty to myself.
Only when I had repented, that is to say, when I had ceased to look