urden your lives with hatred it might be possible that you
would become happy."

A murmur arose in the meeting, and a voice in opposition called out
loudly. "The fellow is a Jesuit." "Parson's talk," cried another from
the corner of the room. Wilhelm took no notice of the interruption, but
went on.

"Why do you object to the owners of property? On account of their
idleness? That is not just. Many of them work much harder than all of
you, and bear a weight of responsibility which would kill most of you.
But suppose we grant that many rich people waste their lives doing
nothing. Instead of envying these unhappy people, I pity them from the
bottom of my heart. I would prefer death a thousand times to life
without duty and work."

The murmur grew stronger and more threatening.

"I wish," cried Wilhelm, raising his voice, "I wish I were rich and
powerful. Then I would invite those who scorn my words now, to live
quite idly for a year or six months. I would take care that no
employment was possible for them, that their days and weeks should be
quite empty. Then they would see how soon they would raise imploring
hands to those who had condemned them to idleness. Neither guards nor
walls would keep them to the softly-cushioned golden-caged prison of
indolence, they would fly as if for their lives, and go back to the
place where their work was, which they had previously thought like
hell."

"Let us see if we would," cried some with contemptuous laughter.

"In what has the rich man the advantage of you? He lives better, you
say. He can procure more enjoyments for himself. Are you sure that
these so-called enjoyments bring happiness? Your healthy hunger makes
your bread and cheese taste better than the rich dishes at noblemen's
tables, and the suffering which fills every life is more bitter in the
western villa than in the workingman's back room, because there they
have more leisure to endure it in, and every fiber of the soul has its
own torture."

"What do you get for defending the rich man?" called a voice from the
hall.

"I am telling you the penalty of property. You must be just in
everything. Granted that the rich man is a criminal; granted his
idleness is an offense to your activity; granted that his roast meat
and wine make your potatoes taste insipid; it is in the order of things
that you should envy him. But what comes out of this envy? Let us admit
that you could carry through anything you undertook. The rich