CHAPTER II.

PRIVATE CONSUMPTION.

§ 1. Luxury.

IN the eighteenth century there was much discussion on the subject of luxury. When a financier asserted that it was the support of states, an economist replied, "Yes, as the hangman's rope supports a criminal;" and the economist was right.

To be an object of luxury a thing must be at once costly and superfluous, i.e. it must satisfy a purely artificial want and have cost many days of labour. This sacrifice of the fruit of much labour to an idle enjoyment can never be other than an evil. It must be remembered, however, that what was a luxury yesterday will cease to be one to-morrow. A shirt for the body and a chimney in the house were great luxuries in the middle ages; to-day they are necessities even for the poorest.

Ancient philosophers and Christian moralists have vied with each other in their condemnation of luxury. Their instinct for the right opened their eyes to the fact which economic science has since fully demonstrated. Luxury is a source of trouble and wickedness to those who indulge in it, and of misery to every one else.

Luxury has its root in three natural inclinations, of which two are vicious, the third almost a virtue. The first of these inclinations is sensuality, which leads us to seek the most exquisite pleasures; the second, vanity. Of these sensuality owns some limits; vanity none. "Heliogabalus," says Lampridius, " used to feed the officers of his household on the entrails of barbels, the brains of pheasants and thrushes, partridge eggs, and the heads of parrots." Claudius Esopus caused dishes to be served of the tongues of birds that had been taught to speak. It was not sensuality, but vanity that recommended these dishes so insensate in their costliness.

The crown of luxury consists in doing violence to nature, and to this effect Seneca says in speaking of Caligula, "Nihil tam efficere concupiscebat quam quod posse effici negaretur. Hoc est luxuriae propositum gaudere perversis." "He desired nothing so much as what seemed impossible, for the main point of luxury is its delight in the perverse."

The savage is full of vanity, and uses tattooing before clothing. When more civilised, men still seek distinction, but seek it by simplicity of attire and brilliancy of genius. On the one hand, luxury nourishes the vanity from which it was born, on the other hand, it gives rise to envy; it is thus a double source of a moral poison, the only antidote to which is a high cultivation of the intelligence and heart.

The third feeling which gives rise to luxury is the

taste for the beautiful and instinct for ornamentation

Happily this richness of

out of which have sprung the fine arts. instinct is best satisfied not by the materials, but by the perfection of form. A natural flower is a more charming ornament than an imitation of it in precious stones, however much these may have cost; and a statuette in terra-cotta from Tanagra is a thousand times more delightful than an idol of pure gold encrusted with diamonds. In any case it is by public, as opposed to private, luxury that the taste for beauty and ornament should chiefly be satisfied.

Is it not deplorable that mankind should, almost everywhere, waste so large a portion of its time in manufacturing useless objects, while so many men and women still lack necessaries? If all the forces that at present are thus squandered were but employed to satisfy essential needs, human welfare would indeed be increased!

Luxury has often been defended, not as good in itself but as supporting trade and industry, and supplying workmen with work. This error, though there could be no greater one, has been shared in by men of the highest genius, and even by eminent economists. The prejudice is universal. Thus in La Fontaine (liv. viii. 9), the rich man says :—

"Je ne sais d'homme nécessaire
Que celui dont le luxe épand beaucoup de bien.
Nous en usons, Dieu sait! Notre plaisir occupe
L'artisan, le vendeur."

"Fashions," says Montesquieu," are of the greatest importance. In the effort to gain the favour of empty heads, all branches of trade are continually being extended." Emptyheadedness, however, cannot promote prosperity. Rather, J. B. Say is right when he says, "The swift succession of fashions impoverishes the state both by what it does and by what it does not consume."

Voltaire in Le Mondain expresses the same idea as Montesquieu :

"Sachez surtout que le luxe enrichit

Un grande état s'il s'en perd un petit.
Le pauvre y vit des vanités des grands."

M. de Sismondi is still more precise. In his Nouveaux Principles d'Économie politique (bk. ii. ch. ii.), he writes, "If the wealthy class suddenly took the resolution to live as the poor does, by its labours, and add the whole of its income to the capital, workmen would be reduced to starvation and despair.” This is exactly the vulgar prejudice, which arises from a defective analysis. In the case instanced by Sismondi, the rich are made to add their income to the capital, but they can only do this by transforming this income into machines, or agricultural and industrial improvements, i.e. by employing a number of workmen. Fifty pounds squandered on a fashion will maintain fewer workmen than would be needed to clear an estate, inasmuch as manual labour is less highly paid in the country than in the towns.

The creation of capital always involves the

employment of labour, and tends at the same. time to increase wages; since fresh capital requires fresh labourers, and the increased demand for these will cause them to be better paid.

To maintain that luxury supports labour is to assert that every destruction of wealth involves an increase of welfare. J. B. Say tells a story of his paying Sunday visits while at college, to an uncle who was both fond of good living, and at the same time a philanthropist. At dessert, after finishing his bottle this uncle used to break the glasses, exclaiming the while, "It's only fair every one should live." Here we have the popular error crystallised; if the uncle had broken all his crockery and gutted his house, it is to be supposed that he would have fed still more mouths. On this reasoning, Nero burning Rome is a benefactor of the race, and incendiarism a source of wealth!

To set forth the truth: if with the money employed in replacing the broken glasses Say's uncle had planted trees, he would have rewarded the same number of hours of labour. Not only then would he have saved his glasses, but he would also have had trees which when grown, cut down, sawn, and made into furniture would have brought him in an income, supplied others with the means of furnishing their houses, and benefited workmen by an increased demand for their labours.

Historians and moralists agree in the assertion that luxury accompanies the downfall of empires. The