L — Luxe

For two thousand years people have declaimed against luxury in verse and prose, and have always loved it.

What has not been said of the early Romans! When those brigands ravaged and plundered their neighbors’ harvests, when, to enlarge their poor village, they destroyed the poor villages of the Volscians and Samnites, they were disinterested and virtuous men! They had not yet been able to steal gold, silver, or jewels, because there were none in the villages they sacked. Their woods and marshes produced neither partridges nor pheasants, and their temperance is praised.

When, advancing little by little, they had plundered and stolen everything from the head of the Adriatic Gulf to the Euphrates, and had sense enough to enjoy the fruits of their robbery for seven or eight hundred years; when they cultivated all the arts, tasted every pleasure, and even let the conquered taste them, then, we are told, they ceased to be wise and honest men.

All these declamations amount to proving that a thief must never eat the dinner he has taken, wear the coat he has stolen, or adorn himself with the ring he has pilfered. All this, we are told, should have been thrown into the river so that they could live as honest men. Say instead that they should not have stolen. Condemn the brigands when they plunder, but do not call them mad when they enjoy their gains in good faith. When a great many English sailors grew rich at the capture of Pondicherry and Havana, were they wrong to enjoy themselves afterward in London as the reward for their hardship in the depths of Asia and America?

Would the declaimers have people bury the wealth amassed by the fortunes of war, agriculture, commerce, and industry? They cite Lacedaemon; why not cite the Republic of San Marino as well? What good did Sparta do Greece? Did it ever have its Demostheneses, Sophocleses, Apelleses, and Phidiases? The luxury of Athens produced great men in every field. Sparta had a few commanders, and fewer even of those than other cities. But by all means let so small a republic as Lacedaemon preserve its poverty. We reach death just as surely by lacking everything as by enjoying what can make life pleasant. The savage of Canada subsists and reaches old age like the English citizen with an income of fifty thousand guineas. But who will ever compare the country of the Iroquois with England?

Let the Republic of Ragusa and the canton of Zug make sumptuary laws; they are right: the poor must not spend beyond their means. But I have read somewhere:

Know above all that luxury enrichesA great state, though it ruins a small one.

If by luxury you mean excess, everyone knows that excess is harmful in every sphere, in abstinence as in gluttony, in thrift as in liberality. I do not know how it has happened that in my villages, where the soil is unforgiving, taxes heavy, and the ban on exporting the grain one has sown intolerable, there is nevertheless scarcely a farmer without a good cloth coat, good shoes, and good food. If this farmer plows in his fine coat, in white linen, with his hair curled and powdered, that is certainly the greatest luxury and the most absurd. But if a citizen of Paris or London appears at the theater dressed like this peasant, that is the coarsest and most ridiculous stinginess.

There is a measure in things; there are, in short, fixed bounds,Beyond or short of which right cannot stand.

When scissors were invented, which certainly do not date from the remotest antiquity, what was not said against the first people to trim their nails and cut off some of the hair falling over their noses? No doubt they were called fops and spendthrifts, paying dearly for an instrument of vanity to spoil the creator’s work. What an enormous sin, to shorten the horn God makes grow at the ends of our fingers! It was an outrage against the divinity. Things were far worse when shirts and slippers were invented. We know how furiously the old councilors, who had never worn them, cried out against the young magistrates who indulged in this fatal luxury.

People have spent two thousand years attacking luxury in poems and prose. They’ve always loved it all the same.

Think of all the praise for the early Romans. Those bandits wrecked and stole their neighbors’ crops. They destroyed the Volscians’ and Samnites’ poor villages to enlarge their own poor village. Such selfless, virtuous men! They hadn’t yet managed to steal gold, silver, or jewels. The towns they sacked had none. Their woods and marshes supplied no partridges or pheasants. Yet people praise their restraint.

Little by little, they robbed and plundered everything from the head of the Adriatic Gulf to the Euphrates. They had the sense to enjoy their loot for seven to eight hundred years. They developed every art and sampled every pleasure, even sharing those pleasures with the conquered. That’s when, people say, they stopped being wise and good.

All these attacks boil down to this. A thief mustn’t eat the dinner he’s taken, wear the coat he’s stolen, or put on the ring he’s stolen. To live honestly, they say, he should’ve thrown it all in the river. Say instead that he shouldn’t have stolen it. Condemn robbers for robbing. But don’t call them fools for enjoying their gains with a clear conscience. Many English sailors got rich when Pondicherry and Havana were captured. Were they wrong to enjoy themselves afterward in London? Wasn’t that their reward for their hardships in distant Asia and America?

Do these critics want people to bury their wealth? They may have gained it through war, farming, trade, or industry. The critics point to Lacedaemon. Why not point to the republic of San Marino too? What did Sparta ever do for Greece? Did it produce men like Demosthenes, Sophocles, Apelles, and Phidias? Luxury in Athens produced great men in every field. Sparta produced a few military commanders, fewer even than other cities. Still, let a republic as small as Lacedaemon stay poor, by all means. We reach death whether we lack everything or enjoy what makes life pleasant. A savage in Canada survives to old age. So does an English citizen whose income is fifty thousand guineas. But who’d ever compare Iroquois country with England?

Let Ragusa’s republic and Zug’s canton pass laws restricting spending. They’re right to do so: poor people mustn’t spend more than they can afford. But I’ve read somewhere:

Remember above all: luxury enrichesA large state, though it ruins a small one.

If you mean excess by luxury, we know excess always does harm. That goes for going without as much as overeating, and for saving as much as giving. I don’t know how it’s happened in my villages. The soil is poor, taxes are high, and the ban on exporting the grain people have sown is unbearable. Yet almost every farmer has a good wool coat, decent shoes, and enough to eat. Suppose he plows in that fine coat, with clean white linen and curled, powdered hair. That would certainly be the most extreme, most foolish luxury. But suppose a citizen of Paris or London goes to the theater dressed like that peasant. That would be the crudest, most ridiculous penny-pinching.

Things have their proper measure; there are fixed limits:What’s right can’t lie beyond them or fall short of them.

Scissors certainly aren’t among the oldest inventions. When they were invented, imagine the attacks on the first people to trim their nails and cut back the hair falling over their noses. No doubt people called them dandies and spendthrifts. They’d paid dearly for a tool of vanity, just to spoil the Creator’s work! What a dreadful sin to cut short the horn God grows on our fingertips! It was an insult to God. Shirts and slippers made things much worse when they were invented. We know how furiously old councilors who’d never worn them protested. The young magistrates had taken up this disastrous luxury.