Again, monopoly destroys pleasure.  Real pleasures are those which we share with the crowd; we lose what we try to keep to ourselves alone.  If the walls I build round my park transform it into a gloomy prison, I have only deprived myself, at great expense, of the pleasure of a walk; I must now seek that pleasure at a distance.  The demon of property spoils everything he lays hands upon.  A rich man wants to be master everywhere, and he is never happy where he is; he is continually driven to flee from himself.  I shall therefore continue to do in my prosperity what I did in my poverty.  Henceforward, richer in the wealth of others than I ever shall be in my own wealth, I will take possession of everything in my neighbourhood that takes my fancy; no conqueror is so determined as I; I even usurp the rights of princes; I take possession of every open place that pleases me, I give them names; this is my park, chat is my terrace, and I am their owner; henceforward I wander among them at will; I often return to maintain my proprietary rights; I make what use I choose of the ground to walk upon, and you will never convince me that the nominal owner of the property which I have appropriated gets better value out of the money it yields him than I do out of his land.  No matter if I am interrupted by hedges and ditches, I take my park on my back, and I carry it elsewhere; there will be space enough for it near at hand, and I may plunder my neighbours long enough before I outstay my welcome.

This is an attempt to show what is meant by good taste in the choice of pleasant occupations for our leisure hours; this is the spirit of enjoyment; all else is illusion, fancy, and foolish pride.  He who disobeys these rules, however rich he may be, will devour his gold on a dung-hill, and will never know what it is to live.

You will say, no doubt, that such amusements lie within the reach of all, that we need not be rich to enjoy them.  That is the very point I was coming to.  Pleasure is ours when we want it; it is only social prejudice which makes everything hard to obtain, and drives pleasure before us.  To be happy is a hundredfold easier than it seems.  If he really desires to enjoy himself the man of taste has no need of riches; all he wants is to be free and to be his own master.  With health and daily bread we are rich enough, if we will but get rid of our prejudices; this is the “Golden Mean” of Horace.  You folks with your strong-boxes may find some other use for your wealth, for it cannot buy you pleasure.  Emile knows this as well as I, but his heart is purer and more healthy, so he will feel it more strongly, and all that he has beheld in society will only serve to confirm him in this opinion.

While our time is thus employed, we are ever on the look-out for Sophy, and we have not yet found her.  It was not desirable that she should be found too easily, and I have taken care to look for her where I knew we should not find her.