things else hinders men from good understanding, is pride. It makes a
man a hedgehog, wounding everyone he touches. Let us speak first of the
pride of the great.

What offends me in this rich man passing in his carriage, is not his
equipage, his dress, or the number and splendor of his retinue: it is
his contempt. That he possesses a great fortune does not disturb me,
unless I am badly disposed: but that he splashes me with mud, drives
over my body, shows by his whole attitude that I count for nothing in
his eyes because I am not rich like himself--this is what disturbs me,
and righteously. He heaps suffering upon me needlessly. He humiliates
and insults me gratuitously. It is not what is vulgar within me, but
what is noblest that asserts itself in the face of this offensive pride.
Do not accuse me of envy; I feel none; it is my manhood that is wounded.
We need not search far to illustrate these ideas. Every man of any
acquaintance with life has had numerous experiences which will justify
our dictum in his eyes. In certain communities devoted to material
interests, the pride of wealth dominates to such a degree that men are
quoted like values in the stock market. The esteem in which a man is
held is proportionate to the contents of his strong box. Here "Society"
is made up of big fortunes, the middle class of medium fortunes. Then
come people who have little, then those who have nothing. All
intercourse is regulated by this principle. And the relatively rich man
who has shown his disdain for those less opulent, is crushed in turn by
the contempt of his superiors in fortune. So the madness of comparison
rages from the summit to the base. Such an atmosphere is ready to
perfection for the nurture of the worst feeling; yet it is not wealth,
but the spirit of the wealthy that must be arraigned.

Many rich men are free from this gross conception--especially is this
true of those who from father to son are accustomed to ease--yet they
sometimes forget that there is a certain delicacy in not making
contrasts too marked. Suppose there is no wrong in enjoying a large
superfluity: is it indispensable to display it, to wound the eyes of
those who lack necessities, to flaunt one's magnificence at the doors of
poverty? Good taste and a sort of modesty always hinder a well man from
talking of his fine appetite, his sound sleep, his exuberance of
spirits, in the presence of one dying of consumption. Many of the rich
do not exercise t