from this wealth. In the country, in the first place, it is
difficult to satisfy all the requirements of rich people, on account
of the sparseness of the population; banks, shops, hotels, every sort
of artisan, and all sorts of social diversions, do not exist there.
In the second place, one of the chief pleasures procured by wealth--
vanity, the desire to astonish and outshine other people--is
difficult to satisfy in the country; and this, again, on account of
the lack of inhabitants. In the country, there is no one to
appreciate elegance, no one to be astonished. Whatever adornments in
the way of pictures and bronzes the dweller in the country may
procure for his house, whatever equipages and toilets he may provide,
there is no one to see them and envy them, and the peasants cannot
judge of them. [And, in the third place, luxury is even disagreeable
and dangerous in the country for the man possessed of a conscience
and fear. It is an awkward and delicate matter, in the country, to
have baths of milk, or to feed your puppies on it, when directly
beside you there are children who have no milk; it is an awkward and
delicate matter to build pavilions and gardens in the midst of people
who live in cots banked up with dung, which they have no means of
warming. In the country there is no one to keep the stupid peasants
in order, and in their lack of cultivation they might disarrange all
this.] {11}

And accordingly rich people congregate, and join themselves to other
rich people with similar requirements, in the city, where the
gratification of every luxurious taste is carefully protected by a
numerous police force. Well-rooted inhabitants of the city of this
sort, are the governmental officials; every description of artisan
and professional man has sprung up around them, and with them the
wealthy join their forces. All that a rich man has to do there is to