greatest　happiness　of　all　would　be　that　I　should　marry　a　very　rich
  girl　and　so　become　possessed　of　as　many　serfs　as　possible。
  I　cannot　think　of　those　years　without　horror；　loathing　and
  heartache。　　I　killed　men　in　war　and　challenged　men　to　duels　in
  order　to　kill　them。　　I　lost　at　cards；　consumed　the　labor　of　the
  peasants；　sentenced　them　to　punishments；　lived　loosely；　and
  deceived　people。　　Lying；　robbery；　adultery　of　all　kinds；
  drunkenness；　violence；　murder　　there　was　no　crime　I　did　not
  commit；　and　in　spite　of　that　people　praised　my　conduct　and　my
  contemporaries　considered　and　consider　me　to　be　a　comparatively
  moral　man。
  So　I　lived　for　ten　years。
  During　that　time　I　began　to　write　from　vanity；　covetousness；
  and　pride。　　In　my　writings　I　did　the　same　as　in　my　life。　　to　get
  fame　and　money；　for　the　sake　of　which　I　wrote；　it　was　necessary　to
  hide　the　good　and　to　display　the　evil。　　and　I　did　so。　　How　often　in
  my　writings　I　contrived　to　hide　under　the　guise　of　indifference；　or
  even　of　banter；　those　strivings　of　mine　towards　goodness　which　gave
  meaning　to　my　life！　　And　I　succeeded　in　this　and　was　praised。
  At　twenty…six　years　of　age　＇Footnote：　He　was　in　fact　27　at　the
  time。＇　I　returned　to　Petersburg　after　the　war；　and　met　the　writers。
  They　received　me　as　one　of　themselves　and　flattered　me。　　And　before
  I　had　time　to　look　round　I　had　adopted　the　views　on　life　of　the　set
  of　authors　I　had　come　among；　and　these　views　completely　obliterated
  all　my　former　strivings　to　improve　　they　furnished　a　theory　which
  justified　the　dissoluteness　of　my　life。
  The　view　of　life　of　these　people；　my　comrades　in　authorship；
  consisted　in　this：　that　life　in　general　goes　on　developing；　and　in
  this　development　we　　men　of　thought　　have　the　chief　part；　and
  among　men　of　thought　it　is　we　　artists　and　poets　　who　have　the
  greatest　influence。　　Our　vocation　is　to　teach　mankind。　　And　lest
  the　simple　question　should　suggest　itself：　What　do　I　know；　and　what
  can　I　teach？　it　was　explained　in　this　theory　that　this　need　not　be
  known；　and　that　the　artist　and　poet　teach　unconsciously。　　I　was
  considered　an　admirable　artist　and　poet；　and　therefore　it　was　very
  natural　for　me　to　adopt　this　theory。　　I；　artist　and　poet；　wrote　and
  taught　without　myself　knowing　what。　　For　this　I　was　paid　money；　I
  had　excellent　food；　lodging；　women；　and　society；　and　I　had　fame；
  which　showed　that　what　I　taught　was　very　good。
  this　faith　in　the　meaning　of　poetry　and　in　the　development　of
  life　was　a　religion；　and　I　was　one　of　its　priests。　　To　be　its
  priest　was　very　pleasant　and　profitable。　　And　I　lived　a
  considerable　time　in　this　faith　without　doubting　its　validity。　　But
  in　the　second　and　still　more　in　the　third　year　of　this　life　I　began
  to　doubt　the　infallibility　of　this　religion　and　to　examine　it。　　My
  first　cause　of　doubt　was　that　I　began　to　notice　that　the　priests　of
  this　religion　were　not　all　in　accord　among　themselves。　　Some　said：
  We　are　the　best　and　most　useful　teachers；　we　teach　what　is　needed；
  but　the　others　teach　wrongly。　　Others　said：　No！　we　are　the　real
  teachers；　and　you　teach　wrongly。　　and　they　disputed；　quarrelled；
  abused；　cheated；　and　tricked　one　another。　　There　were　also　many
  among　us　who　did　not　care　who　was　right　and　who　was　wrong；　but　were
  simply　bent　on　attaining　their　covetous　aims　by　means　of　this
  activity　of　ours。　　All　this　obliged　me　to　doubt　the　validity　of　our
  creed。
  Moreover；　having　begun　to　doubt　the　truth　of　the　authors'
  creed　itself；　I　also　began　to　observe　its　priests　more　attentively；
  and　I　became　convinced　that　almost　all　the　priests　of　that
  religion；　the　writers；　were　immoral；　and　for　the　most　part　men　of
  bad；　worthless　character；　much　inferior　to　those　whom　I　had　met　in
  my　former　dissipated　and　military　life；　but　they　were　self…
  confident　and　self…satisfied　as　only　those　can　be　who　are　quite
  holy　or　who　do　not　know　what　holiness　is。　　These　people　revolted
  me；　I　became　revolting　to　myself；　and　I　realized　that　that　faith
  was　a　fraud。
  But　strange　to　say；　though　I　understood　this　fraud　and
  renounced　it；　yet　I　did　not　renounce　the　rank　these　people　gave　me：
  the　rank　of　artist；　poet；　and　teacher。　　I　naively　imagined　that　I
  was　a　poet　and　artist　and　could　teach　everybody　without　myself
  knowing　what　I　was　teaching；　and　I　acted　accordingly。
  From　my　intimacy　with　these　men　I　acquired　a　new　vice：
  abnormally　developed　pride　and　an　insane　assurance　that　it　was　my
  vocation　to　teach　men；　without　knowing　what。
  To　remember　that　time；　and　my　own　state　of　mind　and　that　of
  those　men　（though　there　are　thousands　like　them　today）；　is　sad　and
  terrible　and　ludicrous；　and　arouses　exactly　the　feeling　one
  experiences　in　a　lunatic　asylum。
  We　were　all　then　convinced　that　it　was　necessary　for　us　to
  speak；　write；　and　print　as　quickly　as　possible　and　as　much　as
  possible；　and　that　it　was　all　wanted　for　the　good　of　humanity。　　And
  thousands　of　us；　contradicting　and　abusing　one　another；　all　printed
  and　wrote　　teaching　others。　　And　without　noticing　that　we　knew
  nothing；　and　that　to　the　simplest　of　life's　questions：　What　is　good
  and　what　is　evil？　we　did　not　know　how　to　reply；　we　all　talked　at
  the　same　time；　not　listening　to　one　another；　sometimes　seconding
  and　praising　one　another　in　order　to　be　seconded　and　praised　in
  turn；　sometimes　getting　angry　with　one　another　　just　as　in　a
  lunatic　asylum。
  Thousands　of　workmen　laboured　to　the　extreme　limit　of　their
  strength　day　and　night；　setting　the　type　and　printing　millions　of
  words　which　the　post　carried　all　over　Russia；　and　we　still　went　on
  teaching　and　could　in　no　way　find　time　to　teach　enough；　and　were
  always　angry　that　sufficient　attention　was　not　paid　us。
  It　was　terribly　strange；　but　is　now　quite　comprehensible。　　Our
  real　innermost　concern　was　to　get　as　much　money　and　praise　as
  possible。　　To　gain　that　end　we　could　do　nothing　except　write　books
  and　papers。　　So　we　did　that。　　But　in　order　to　do　such　useless　work
  and　to　feel　assured　that　we　were　very　important　people　we　required
  a　theory　justifying　our　activity。　　And　so　among　us　this　theory　was
  devised：　　〃All　that　exists　is　reasonable。　　All　that　exists
  develops。　　And　it　all　develops　by　means　of　Culture。　　And　Culture　is
  measured　by　the　circulation　of　books　and　newspapers。　　And　we　are
  paid　money　and　are　respected　because　we　write　books　and　newspapers；
  and　therefore　we　are　the　most　useful　and　the　best　of　men。〃　　This
  theory　would　have　been　all　very　well　if　we　had　been　unanimous；　but
  as　every　thought　expressed　by　one　of　us　was　always　met　by　a
  diametrically　opposite　thought　expressed　by　another；　we　ought　to
  have　been　driven　to　reflection。　　But　we　ignored　this；　people　paid
  us　money　and　those　on　our　side　praised　us；　so　each　of　us　considered
  himself　justified。
  It　is　now　clear　to　me　that　this　was　just　as　in　a　lunatic
  asylum；　but　then　I　only　dimly　suspected　this；　and　like　all
  lunatics；　simply　called　all　men　lunatics　except　myself。
  III
  So　I　lived；　abandoning　myself　to　this　insanity　for　another　six
  years；　till　my　marriage。　　During　that　time　I　went　abroad。　　Life　in
  Europe　and　my　acquaintance　with　leading　and　learned　Europeans
  ＇Footnote：　　Russians　generally　make　a　distinction　between　Europeans
  and　Russians。　　A。M。＇　confirmed　me　yet　more　in　the　faith　of
  striving　after　perfection　in　which　I　believed；　for　I　found　the　same
  faith　among　them。　　That　faith　took　with　me　the　common　form　it
  assumes　with　the　majority　of　educated　people　of　our　day。　　It　was
  expressed　by　the　word　〃progress〃。　　It　then　appeared　to　me　that　this
  word　meant　something。　　I　did　not　as　yet　understand　that；　being
  tormented　（like　every　vital　man）　by　the　question　how　it　is　best　for
  me　to　live；　in　my　answer；　〃Live　in　conformity　with　progress〃；　I　was
  like　a　man　in　a　boat　who　when　carried　along　by　wind　and　waves
  should　reply　to　what　for　him　is　the　chief　and　only　question。
  〃whither　to　steer〃；　by　saying；　〃We　are　being　carried　somewhere〃。
  I　did　not　then　notice　this。　　Only　occasionally　　not　by
  reason　but　by　instinct　　I　revolted　against　this　superstition　so
  common　in　our　day；　by　which　people　hide　from　themselves　their　lack
  of　understanding　of　life。。。。So；　for　instance；　during　my　stay　in
  Paris；　the　sight　of　an　execution　revealed　to　me　the　instability　of
  my　superstitious　belief　in　progress。　　When　I　saw　the　head　part　from
  the　body　and　how　they　thumped　separately　into　the　box；　I
  understood；　not　with　my　mind　but　with　my　whole　being；　that　no
  theory　of　the　reasonableness　of　our　present　progress　could　justify
  this　deed；　and　that　though　everybody　from　the　creation　of　the　world
  had　held　it　to　be　necessary；　on　whatever　theory；　I　knew　it　to　be
  unnecessary　and　bad；　and　therefore　the　arbiter　of　what　is　good　and
  evil　is　not　what　people　say　and　do；　nor　is　it　progress；　but　it　is
  my　heart　and　I。　　Another　instance　of　a　realization　that　the
  superstitious　belief　in　progress　is　i