r to know what
is good for man, it is necessary to be on humane, i.e., on friendly terms
with him. And therefore, in order to do good, it is not money that is
necessary, but, first of all, a capacity for detaching ourselves, for a
time at least, from the conditions of our own life. It is necessary that
we should not be afraid to soil our boots and clothing, that we should
not fear lice and bedbugs, that we should not fear typhus fever,
diphtheria, and small-pox. It is necessary that we should be in a
condition to seat ourselves by the bunk of a tatterdemalion and converse
earnestly with him in such a manner, that he may feel that the man who is
talking with him respects and loves him, and is not putting on airs and
admiring himself. And in order that this may be so, it is necessary that
a man should find the meaning of life outside himself. This is what is
requisite in order that good should be done, and this is what it is
difficult to find.

When the idea of assisting through the medium of the census occurred to
me, I discussed the matter with divers of the wealthy, and I saw how glad
the rich were of this opportunity of decently getting rid of their money,
that extraneous sin which they cherish in their hearts. "Take three
hundred--five hundred rubles, if you like," they said to me, "but I
cannot go into those dens myself." There was no lack of money. Remember
Zaccheus, the chief of the Publicans in the Gospel. Remember how he,
because he was small of stature, climbed into a tree to see Christ, and
how when Christ announced that he was going to his house, having
understood but one thing, that the Master did not approve of riches, he
leaped headlong from the tree, ran home and arranged his feast. And how,
as soon as Christ entered, Zaccheus instantly declared that he gave the
half of his goods to the poor, and if he had wronged any man, to him he
would restore fourfold. And remember how all of us, when we read the
Gospel, set but little store on this Zaccheus, and involuntarily look
with scorn on this half of his goods, and fourfold restitution. And our
feeling is correct. Zaccheus, according to his lights, performed a great
deed. He had not even begun to do good. He had only begun in some small
measure to purify himself from evil, and so Christ told him.

He merely said to him: "To-day is salvation come nigh unto this house."

What if the Moscow Zaccheuses were to do the same that he did? Assuredly,