Political discourses: By David Hume Esq.

DISCOURSE II. Of Luxury.

LUXURY is a word of a very uncertain signi|fication, and may be taken in a good as well as a bad sense. In general, it means great refine|ment in the gratification of the senses; and any de|gree of it may be innocent or blameable, according to the age or country or condition of the person. The bounds betwixt the virtue and the vice can|not here be fixt exactly, more than in other moral subjects. To imagine, that the gratifying any of the senses, or the indulging any delicacy in meats, drinks, or apparel is, of itself, a vice, can never en|ter into any head, that is not disorder'd by the frenzies of a fanatical enthusiasm. I have, indeed, heard of a monk abroad, who, because the win|dows of his cell open'd upon a very noble pro|spect, made a covenant with his eyes never to turn that way, or receive so sensual a gratification. And such is the crime of drinking Champagne or Bur|gundy, preferably to small beer or porter. These indulgences are only vices, when they are pursu'd at the expence of some virtue, as liberality or cha|rity: In like manner, as they are follies, when for them a man ruins his fortune, and reduces himself to want and beggary. Where they entrench upon

no virtue, but leave ample subject, whence to pro|vide for friends, family, and every proper object of generosity or compassion, they are entirely inno|cent, and have in every age been acknowledg'd such by almost all moralists. To be entirely oc|cupy'd with the luxury of the table, for instance, without any relish for the pleasures of ambition, stu|dy or conversation, is a mark of gross stupidity, and is incompatible with any vigour of temper or ge|nius. To confine one's expence entirely to such a gratification, without regard to friends or family, is an indication of a heart entirely devoid of huma|nity or benevolence. But if a man reserve time sufficient for all laudable pursuits, and money suf|ficient for all generous purposes, he is free from e|very shadow of blame or reproach.

SINCE luxury may be consider'd, either as in|nocent or blameable, one may be surpris'd at those preposterous opinions, which have been entertain'd concerning it; while men of libertine principles bestow praises even on vitious luxury, and repre|sent it as highly advantageous to society; and on the other hand, men of severe morals blame even the most innocent luxury, and represent it as the source of all the corruptions, disorders, and facti|ons, incident to civil government. We shall here endeavour to correct both these extremes, by prov|ing, first, that the ages of refinement and luxury are both the happiest and most virtuous; secondly,

that wherever luxury ceases to be innocent, it also ceases to be beneficial, and when carry'd a degree too far, is a quality pernicious, tho' perhaps not the most pernicious, to political society.

To prove the first point, we need but consider the effects of luxury both on private and on public life. Human happiness, according to the most re|ceiv'd notions, seems to consist in three ingredients, action, pleasure, and indolence; and tho' these in|gredients ought to be mixt in different proportions, according to the particular dispositions of the per|son, yet no one ingredient can be entirely want|ing, without destroying, in some measure, the re|lish of the whole composition. Indolence or re|pose, indeed, seems not, of itself, to contribute much to our enjoyment; but like sleep, is requisite as an indulgence to the weakness of human nature, which cannot support an uninterrupted course of business or pleasure. That quick march of the spirits, which takes a man from himself, and chief|ly gives satisfaction, does in the end exhaust the mind, and requires some intervals of repose, which, tho' agreeable for a moment, yet, if prolong'd, be|get a languor and lethargy, that destroy all enjoy|ment. Education, custom, and example have a mighty influence in turning the mind to any of these pursuits; and it must be own'd, that, where they promote a relish for action and pleasure, they are so far favourable to human happiness. In times,

when industry and arts flourish, men are kept in perpetual occupation, and enjoy, as their reward, the occupation itself, as well as those pleasures, which are the fruits of their labour. The mind acquires new vigour; enlarges its powers and facul|ties; and by an affiduity in honest industry, both satisfies its natural appetites, and prevents the growth of unnatural ones, which commonly spring up, when nourish'd with ease and idleness. Banish those arts from society, you deprive men both of action and of pleasure; and leaving nothing but indolence in their place, you even destroy the relish of indo|lence, which never is agreeable, but when it suc|ceeds to labour, and recruits the spirits, exhausted by too much application and fatigue.

ANOTHER advantage of industry and of refine|ments in the mechanical arts is, that they com|monly produce some refinements in the liberal arts; nor can the one be carried to perfection, without being accompany'd, in some degree, with the other. The same age, which produces great philosophers and politicians, renown'd generals and poets, usu|ally abounds with skilful weavers and ship-carpen|ters. We cannot reasonably expect, that a piece of woolen cloth will be wrought to perfection in a nation, that is ignorant of astronomy, or where ethics are neglected. The spirit of the age affects all the arts; and the minds of men, being once rous'd from their lethargy, and put into a fermen|tation,

turn themselves on all fides, and carry im|provements into every art and science. Profound ignorance is totally banish'd, and men enjoy the privilege of rational creatures, to think as well as to act, to cultivate the pleasures of the mind as well as those of the body.

THE more these refin'd arts advance, the more sociable do men become; nor is it possible, that, when enrich'd with science, and possest of a fund of conversation, they should be contented to re|main in solitude, or live with their fellow citizens in that distant manner, which is peculiar to igno|rant and barbarous nations. They flock into ci|ties; love to receive and communicate knowledge; to show their wit or their breeding; their taste in conversation or living, in cloaths or furniture. Cu|riosity allures the wise: Vanity the foolish: And pleasure both. Particular clubs and societies are every where form'd: Both sexes meet in an easy and sociable manner, and mens tempers, as well as behaviour, refine a-pace. So that beside the im|provements they receive from knowledge and the liberal arts, 'tis impossible but they must feel an increase of humanity, from the very habit of con|versing together, and contributing to each other's pleasure and entertainment. Thus industry, know|ledge, and humanity are linkt together by an indis|soluble chain, and are found, from experience as

well as reason, to be peculiar to the more polish'd and luxurious ages.

NOR are these advantages attended with disad|vantages, that bear any proportion to them. The more men refine upon pleasure, the less will they indulge in excesses of any kind; because nothing is more destructive to true pleasure than such exces|ses. One may safely affirm, that the Tartars are oftner guilty of beastly gluttony, when they feast on their dead horses, than European courtiers with all their refinements of cookery. And if libertine love, or even infidelity to the marriage-bed, be more fre|quent in polite ages, when it is often regarded on|ly as a piece of gallantry, drunkenness, on the other hand, is much less common: A vice more odious and more pernicious both to mind and body. And in this matter I would appeal not only to an Ovid or a Petronius, but to a Seneca or a Cato. We know, that Caesar, during Cataline's conspiracy, being necessitated to put into Cato's hands a billet|doux, which discover'd an intrigue with Servilia, Cato's own sister, that stern philosopher threw it back to him with indignation, and in the bitterness of his wrath gave him the appellation of drunkard, as a term more opprobrious than that with which he cou'd more justly have reproach'd him.

BUT industry, knowledge, and humanity are not advantageous in private life alone: They diffuse their beneficial influence on the Public, and render

the government as great and flourishing as they make individuals happy and prosperous. The en|crease and consumption of all the commodities, which serve to the ornament and pleasure of life, are advantageous to society; because at the same time that they multiply those innocent gratifications to individuals, they are a kind of store-house of labour, which, in the exigencies of state, may be turn'd to the public service. In a nation, where there is no demand for such superfluities, men sink into indo|lence, lose all the enjoyment of life, and are useless to the public, which cannot maintain nor support its fleets and armies, from the industry of such sloth|ful members.

THE bounds of all the European kingdoms are, at present, pretty near the same they were two hundred years ago: But what a difference is there in the power and grandeur of those king|doms? Which can be ascrib'd to nothing but the encrease of art and industry. When Charles the VIII. of France invaded Italy, he carry'd with him about 20,000 men: And yet this arma|ment so exhausted the nation, as we learn from Guicciardin, that for some years it was not able to make so great an effort. The late king of France, in time of war, kept in pay above 400,000 men;* 1.1 tho' from Mazarine's death to his own he was en|gag'd in a course of wars, that lasted near thirty years.

THIS industry is much promoted by the know|ledge, inseparable from the ages of arts and luxury; as on the other hand, this knowledge enables the public to make the best advantage of the industry of its subjects. Laws, order, police, discipline; these can never be carry'd to any degree of perfec|tion, before human reason has refin'd itself by ex|ercise, and by an application to the more vulgar arts, at least, of commerce and manufactures. Can we expect, that a government will be well model'd by a people, who know not how to make a spin|ning wheel, or to employ a loom to advantage? Not to mention, that all ignorant ages are infest|ed with superstition, which throws the government off its bias, and disturbs men in the pursuit of their interest and happiness.

KNOWLEDGE in the arts of government natur|ally begets mildness and moderation, by instruct|ing men in the advantages of humane maxims a|bove rigour and severity, which drive subjects in|to rebellion, and render the return to submission impracticable, by cutting off all hopes of pardon. When mens temper is soften'd as well as their knowledge improv'd, this humanity appears still more conspicuous, and is the chief characteristic, that distinguishes a civiliz'd age from times of bar|barity and ignorance. Factions are then less invete|rate; revolutions less tragical; authority less severe;

and seditions less frequent. Even foreign wars a|bate of their cruelty; and after the field of battle, where honour and interest steel men against com|passion as well as fear, the combatants divest them|selves of the brute, and resume the man.

NOR need we fear, that men, by losing their ferocity, will lose their martial spirit, or become less undaunted and vigorous in defence of their country or their liberty. The arts have no such effect in enervating either the mind or body. On the contrary, industry, their inseparable attendant, adds new force to both. And if anger, which is said to be the whetstone of courage, loses somewhat of its asperity, by politeness and refinement; a sense of honour, which is a stronger, more constant, and more governable principle, acquires fresh vigour by that elevation of genius, which arises from knowledge and a good education. Add to this, that courage can neither have any duration, nor be of any use, when not accompany'd with discip|line and martial skill, which are seldom found a|mong a barbarous people. The antients remark'd that Datames was the only barbarian that ever knew the art of war. And Pyrrhus seeing the Romans marshal their army with some art and skill, said with surprize These barbarians have no|thing barbarous in their discipline! 'Tis observable, that as the old Romans, by applying themselves solely to war, were the only unciviliz'd people that

ever possest military discipline; so the modern I|talians are the only civiliz'd people, among Euro|peans, that ever wanted courage and a martial spirit. Those who wou'd ascribe this effeminacy of the I|talians to their luxury or politeness, or application to the arts, need but consider the French and Eng|lish, whose bravery is as uncontestable as their love of luxury, and their assiduity in commerce. The Italian historians give us a more satisfactory reason for this degeneracy of their countrymen. They shew us how the sword was dropt at once by all the Italian sovereigns; while the Venetian aristo|cracy was jealous of its subjects, the Florentine de|mocracy apply'd itself entirely to commerce; Rome was govern'd by priests, and Naples by women. War then became the business of soldiers of for|tune, who spar'd one another, and to the astonish|ment of the world, cou'd engage a whole day in what they call'd a battle, and return at night to their camps without the least bloodshed.

WHAT has chiefly induc'd severe moralists to declaim against luxury and refinement in pleasure is the example of antient Rome, which, joining, to its poverty and rusticity, virtue and public spirit, rose to such a surprising height of grandeur and liberty; but having learn'd from its conquer'd pro|vinces the Grecian and Asiatic luxury, fell into e|very kind of corruption; whence arose sedition and civil wars, attended at last with the total loss of li|berty.

All the Latin classics, whom we peruse in our infancy, are full of these sentiments, and uni|versally ascribe the ruin of their state to the arts and riches imported from the East: insomuch that Sal|lust represents a taste for painting as a vice no less than lewdness and drinking. And so popular were these sentiments during the latter ages of the re|public, that this author abounds in praises of the old rigid Roman virtue, tho' himself the most egregi|ous instance of modern luxury and corruption; speaks contemptuously of Grecian eloquence, tho' the most elegant writer in the world; nay, employs preposterous digressions and declamations to this purpose, tho' a model of taste and correctness.

BUT it would be easy to prove, that these writ|ers mistook the cause of the disorders in the Ro|man state, and ascrib'd to luxury and the arts what really proceeded from an ill model'd government, and the unlimited extent of conquests. Luxury or refinement on pleasure has no natural tendency to beget venality and corruption. The value, which all men put upon any particular pleasure, depends on comparison and experience; nor is a porter less greedy of money, which he spends on bacon and brandy, than a courtier, who purchases champagne and ortolans. Riches are valuable at all times and to all men, because they always purchase pleasures, such as men are accustom'd to and desire; nor can any thing restrain or regulate the love of money but

a sense of honour and virtue; which, if it be not nearly equal at all times, will naturally abound most in ages of luxury and knowledge.

OF all European kingdoms, Poland seems the most defective in the arts of war as well as peace, mechanical as well as liberal; and yet 'tis there that venality and corruption do most prevail. The nobles seem to have preserv'd their crown elective for no other purpose, but regularly to sell it to the highest bidder. This is almost the only species of commerce, with which that people are acquainted.

THE liberties of England, so far from decaying since the origin of luxury and the arts, have ne|ver flourish'd so much as during that period. And tho' corruption may seem to encrease of late years; this is chiefly to be ascrib'd to our establish'd liberty, when our princes have found the impossibility of governing without parliaments, or of terrifying par|liaments by the fantom of prerogative. Not to mention, that this corruption or venality prevails infinitely more among the electors than the elect|ed; and therefore cannot justly be ascrib'd to any refinements in luxury.

IF we consider the matter in a proper light, we shall find, that luxury and the arts are rather fa|vourable to liberty, and have a natural tendency to preserve, if not produce a free government. In

rude unpolish'd nations, where the arts are neglect|ed, all the labour is bestow'd on the cultivation of the ground; and the whole society divides into two classes, proprietors of land, and their vassals or tenants. The latter are necessarily dependent and fitted for slavery and subjection; especially where they possess no riches, and are not valu'd for their knowledge in agriculture; as must always be the case where the arts are neglected. The former naturally erect themselves into petty tyrants; and must either submit to an absolute master for the sake of peace and order; or if they will preserve their independency, like the Gothic barons, they must fall into feuds and contests amongst them|selves, and throw the whole society into such con|fusion as is perhaps worse than the most despotic government. But where luxury nourishes com|merce and industry, the peasants, by a proper culti|vation of the land, become rich and independent; while the tradesmen and merchants acquire a share of the property, and draw authority and consider|ation to that middling rank of men; who are the best and firmest basis of public liberty. These sub|mit not to slavery, like the poor peasants, from po|verty and meanness of spirit; and having no hopes of tyrannizing over others, like the barons, they are not tempted, for the sake of that gratification, to submit to the tyranny of their sovereign. They covet equal laws, which may secure their proper|ty,

and preserve them from monarchical, as well as aristocratical tyranny.

THE house of commons is the support of our popular government; and all the world acknow|ledge, that it ow'd its chief influence and consider|ation to the encrease of commerce, which threw such a balance of property into the hands of the commons. How inconsistent, then, is it to blame so violently luxury, or a refinement in the arts, and to represent it as the bane of liberty and public spirit!

TO declaim against present times, and magnify the virtue of remote ancestors, is a propensity al|most inherent in human nature; and as the senti|ments and opinions of civiliz'd ages alone are transmitted to posterity, hence it is that we meet with so many severe judgments pronounc'd a|gainst luxury and even science, and hence it is that at present we give so ready an assent to them. But the fallacy is easily perceiv'd from comparing dif|ferent nations that are contemporaries; where we both judge more impartially, and can better set in opposition those manners with which we are sufficiently acquainted. Treachery and cruelty, the most pernicious and most odious of all vi|ces, seem peculiar to unciviliz'd ages; and by the refin'd Greeks and Romans were ascrib'd to all the barbarous nations, which surrounded them. They

might justly, therefore, have presum'd, that their own ancestors, so highly celebrated, possest no greater virtue, and were as much inferior to their posterity in honour and humanity as in taste and science. An antient Frank or Saxon may be high|ly extoll'd: But I believe every man would think his life or fortune much less secure in the hands of a Moor or Tartar, than in those of a French or English gentleman, the rank of men the most civiliz'd, in the most civiliz'd nations.

WE come now to the second position, which we propos'd to illustrate, viz. that as innocent luxury or a refinement in pleasure is advantageous to the public; so wherever luxury ceases to be innocent, it also ceases to be beneficial, and when carry'd a degree farther, begins to be a quality pernicious, tho', perhaps, not the most pernicious, to political society.

LET us consider what we call vicious luxury. No gratification, however sensual, can, of itself, be esteem'd vicious. A gratification is only vici|ous, when it engrosses all a man's expence, and leaves no ability for such acts of duty and genero|sity as are requir'd by his situation and fortune. Suppose, that he correct the vice, and employ part of his expence in the education of his children, in the support of his friends, and in relieving the poor; would any prejudice result to society? On the con|trary,

the same consumption would arise; and that labour, which, at present, is employ'd only in pro|ducing a slender gratification to one man, would relieve the necessitous, and bestow satisfaction on hundreds. The same care and toil, which raise a dish of peas at Christmas, would give bread to a whole family during six months. To say, that, without a vicious luxury, the labour would not have been employ'd at all, is only to say, that there is some other defect in human nature, such as indo|lence, selfishness, inattention to others, for which luxury, in some measure, provides a remedy; as one poison may be an antidote to another. But virtue, like wholesome food, is better than poisons, however corrected.

SUPPOSE the same number of men, that are, at present, in Britain, with the same soil and climate; I ask, is it not possible for them to be happier, by the most perfect way of life, that can be imagin'd, and by the greatest reformation, which omnipo|tence itself could work in their temper and dispo|sition? To assert, that they cannot, appears evi|dently ridiculous. As the land is able to maintain more than all its inhabitants, they cou'd never, in such an Utopian state, feel any other ills, than those which arise from bodily sickness; and these are not the half of human miseries. All other ills spring from some vice, either in ourselves or others; and even many of our diseases proceed from the same

origin. Remove the vices, and the ills follow. You must only take care to remove all the vices. If you remove part, you may render the matter worse. By banishing vicious luxury, without cur|ing sloth and an indifference to others, you only diminish industry in the state, and add nothing to mens charity or their generosity. Let us, there|fore, rest contented with asserting, that two oppo|site vices in a state may be more advantageous than either of them alone; but let us never pronounce vice, in it self, advantageous. Is it not very in|consistent for an author to assert in one page, that moral distinctions are inventions of politicians for public interest; and in the next page maintain, that vice is advantageous to the public?* 1.2 And in|deed, it seems, upon any system of morality, little less than a contradiction in terms, to talk of a vice, that is in general beneficial to society.

I THOUGHT this reasoning necessary, in order to give some light to a philosophical question, which has been much disputed in Britain. I call it a phi|losophical question, not a political one. For what|ever may be the consequence of such a miracu|lous transformation of mankind, as would endow them with every species of virtue, and free them from every vice, this concerns not the magistrate, who aims only at possibilities. He cannot cure e|very vice, by substituting a virtue in its place. Ve|ry

often he can only cure one vice by another; and in that case, he ought to prefer what is least per|nicious to society. Luxury, when excessive, is the source of many ills; but is in general prefer|able to sloth and idleness, which wou'd commonly succeed in its place, and are more pernicious both to private persons and to the public. When sloth reigns, a mean uncultivated way of life prevails a|mongst individuals, without society, without enjoy|ment. And if the sovereign, in such a situation, demands the service of his subjects, the labour of the state suffices only to furnish the necessaries of life to the labourers, and can afford nothing to those, who are employ'd in the public service.

Notes

• * 1.1

  The inscription on the Place-de-Vendome says 440,000.
• * 1.2

  Fable of the hees.