osely their manner of life. I quite agree that
these people have every right to live in what manner they choose; but
I, who have been accustomed to a totally different manner of life, who
have been taught to consider existence from a different point of view,
to reverence the higher aims and obey its finer instincts, _I_ should
be acting a lie and violating my own principles were I to remain in
such an atmosphere and live after such a fashion. Here, in this
exalted rank, you are all solitary rings, while we in the lower order
hang together as links of one chain. You are totally independent one
of the other, therefore you follow each one his own inclinations. With
us the pressure of life knits us more closely together, and we call
egotism and generosity by different names from what you do. I am,
therefore, not fit for your circle. I am ashamed to be haughty towards
those upon whom you look down, and I cannot bend before those whom you
delight to honor. I do not recognize the gods whom you adore, neither
can I mock at _my_ God, and ignore Him as you do. In this world of
yours there is a malicious demon who transforms all that is good in
man's nature, and who prompts him to laugh and deny every inclination
to virtue. Who tells his friend or neighbor the truth to his face, and
who cares for any one who is not present? Dear friends race together
over hill and dale; but suppose one makes a false step and breaks his
neck, good-bye to him, the dear friend is gone. Another does not break
his neck in the race, but he dissipates all his fortune; those who are
running with him never say to him, 'Step out of the course; you are
going to the bottom.' All at once he stumbles, and his fortune and the
honors of his ancestors lie tumbled in the dust. Good-bye to him; his
name is struck out of the club-list; that dear friend is no more. It
is true we knew yesterday and the day before yesterday that he would
surely get a bad fall, but no one else knew of it, so we rode with our
dear friend to the last. Now all the world is aware of his tumble in
the dust, therefore we know him no more. If any one wishes to go on
his own way, and live a rational life to himself, oh, then, he is a
coward, a miser, a carpet knight! And how do the women fare in this
world of yours? What about domestic life, and the sweet joys of the
home? What tragedies are enacted inside those splendid mansions, and
outside what fun is made of them by friends and acquaintances!