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Title: The Theory of the Leisure Class*

Author: Thorstein Veblen

March, 1997  [Etext #833]
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The Theory of the Leisure Class

by Thorstein Veblen





Chapter One

Introductory


The institution of a leisure class is found in its best
development at the higher stages of the barbarian culture; as,
for instance, in feudal Europe or feudal Japan. In such
communities the distinction between classes is very rigorously
observed; and the feature of most striking economic significance
in these class differences is the distinction maintained between
the employments proper to the several classes. The upper classes
are by custom exempt or excluded from industrial occupations, and
are reserved for certain employments to which a degree of honour
attaches. Chief among the honourable employments in any feudal
community is warfare; and priestly service is commonly second to
warfare. If the barbarian community is not notably warlike, the
priestly office may take the precedence, with that of the warrior
second. But the rule holds with but slight exceptions that,
whether warriors or priests, the upper classes are exempt from
industrial employments, and this exemption is the economic
expression of their superior rank. Brahmin India affords a fair
illustration of the industrial exemption of both these classes.
In the communities belonging to the higher barbarian culture
there is a considerable differentiation of sub-classes within
what may be comprehensively called the leisure class; and there
is a corresponding differentiation of employments between these
sub-classes. The leisure class as a whole comprises the noble and
the priestly classes, together with much of their retinue. The
occupations of the class are correspondingly diversified; but
they have the common economic characteristic of being
non-industrial. These non-industrial upper-class occupations may
be roughly comprised under government, warfare, religious
observances, and sports.

At an earlier, but not the earliest, stage of barbarism, the
leisure class is found in a less differentiated form. Neither the
class distinctions nor the distinctions between leisure-class
occupations are so minute and intricate. The Polynesian islanders
generally show this stage of the development in good form, with
the exception that, owing to the absence of large game, hunting
does not hold the usual place of honour in their scheme of life.
The Icelandic community in the time of the Sagas also affords a
fair instance. In such a community there is a rigorous
distinction between classes and between the occupations peculiar
to each class. Manual labour, industry, whatever has to do
directly with the everyday work of getting a livelihood, is the
exclusive occupation of the inferior class. This inferior class
includes slaves and other dependents, and ordinarily also all the
women. If there are several grades of aristocracy, the women of
high rank are commonly exempt from industrial employment, or at
least from the more vulgar kinds of manual labour. The men of the
upper classes are not only exempt, but by prescriptive custom
they are debarred, from all industrial occupations. The range of
employments open to them is rigidly defined. As on the higher
plane already spoken of, these employments are government,
warfare, religious observances, and sports. These four lines of
activity govern the scheme of life of the upper classes, and for
the highest rank -- the kings or chieftains -- these are the only
kinds of activity that custom or the common sense of the
community will allow. Indeed, where the scheme is well developed
even sports are accounted doubtfully legitimate for the members
of the highest rank. To the lower grades of the leisure class
certain other employments are open, but they are employments that
are subsidiary to one or another of these typical leisure-class
occupations. Such are, for instance, the manufacture and care of
arms and accoutrements and of war canoes, the dressing and
handling of horses, dogs, and hawks, the preparation of sacred
apparatus, etc. The lower classes are excluded from these
secondary honourable employments, except from such as are plainly
of an industrial character and are only remotely related to the
typical leisure-class occupations.

If we go a step back of this exemplary barbarian culture, into
the lower stages of barbarism, we no longer find the leisure
class in fully developed form. But this lower barbarism shows the
usages, motives, and circumstances out of which the institution
of a leisure class has arisen, and indicates the steps of its
early growth. Nomadic hunting tribes in various parts of the
world illustrate these more primitive phases of the
differentiation. Any one of the North American hunting tribes may
be taken as a convenient illustration. These tribes can scarcely
be said to have a defined leisure class. There is a
differentiation of function, and there is a distinction between
classes on the basis of this difference of function, but the
exemption of the superior class from work has not gone far enough
to make the designation "leisure class" altogether applicable.
The tribes belonging on this economic level have carried the
economic differentiation to the point at which a marked
distinction is made between the occupations of men and women, and
this distinction is of an invidious character. In nearly all
these tribes the women are, by prescriptive custom, held to those
employments out of which the industrial occupations proper
develop at the next advance. The men are exempt from these vulgar
employments and are reserved for war, hunting, sports, and devout
observances. A very nice discrimination is ordinarily shown in
this matter.

This division of labour coincides with the distinction between
the working and the leisure class as it appears in the higher
barbarian culture. As the diversification and specialisation of
employments proceed, the line of demarcation so drawn comes to
divide the industrial from the non-industrial employments. The
man's occupation as it stands at the earlier barbarian stage is
not the original out of which any appreciable portion of later
industry has developed. In the later development it survives only
in employments that are not classed as industrial, -- war,
politics, sports, learning, and the priestly office. The only
notable exceptions are a portion of the fishery industry and
certain slight employments that are doubtfully to be classed as
industry; such as the manufacture of arms, toys, and sporting
goods. Virtually the whole range of industrial employments is an
outgrowth of what is classed as woman's work in the primitive
barbarian community.

The work of the men in the lower barbarian culture is no less
indispensable to the life of the group than the work done by the
women. It may even be that the men's work contributes as much to
the food supply and the other necessary consumption of the group.
Indeed, so obvious is this "productive" character of the men's
work that in the conventional economic writings the hunter's work
is taken as the type of primitive industry. But such is not the
barbarian's sense of the matter. In his own eyes he is not a
labourer, and he is not to be classed with the women in this
respect; nor is his effort to be classed with the women's
drudgery, as labour or industry, in such a sense as to admit of
its being confounded with the latter. There is in all barbarian
communities a profound sense of the disparity between man's and
woman's work. His work may conduce to the maintenance of the
group, but it is felt that it does so through an excellence and
an efficacy of a kind that cannot without derogation be compared
with the uneventful diligence of the women.

At a farther step backward in the cultural scale -- among savage
groups -- the differentiation of employments is still less
elaborate and the invidious distinction between classes and
employments is less consistent and less rigorous. Unequivocal
instances of a primitive savage culture are hard to find. Few of
these groups or communities that are classed as "savage" show no
traces of regression from a more advanced cultural stage. But
there are groups -- some of them apparently not the result of
retrogression -- which show the traits of primitive savagery with
some fidelity. Their culture differs from that of the barbarian
communities in the absence of a leisure class and the absence, in
great measure, of the animus or spiritual attitude on which the
institution of a leisure class rests. These communities of
primitive savages in which there is no hierarchy of economic
classes make up but a small and inconspicuous fraction of the
human race. As good an instance of this phase of culture as may
be had is afforded by the tribes of the Andamans, or by the Todas
of the Nilgiri Hills. The scheme of life of these groups at the
time of their earliest contact with Europeans seems to have been
nearly typical, so far as regards the absence of a leisure class.
As a further instance might be cited the Ainu of Yezo, and, more
doubtfully, also some Bushman and Eskimo groups. Some Pueblo
communities are less confidently to be included in the same
class. Most, if not all, of the communities here cited may well
be cases of degeneration from a higher barbarism, rather than
bearers of a culture that has never risen above its present
level. If so, they are for the present purpose to be taken with
the allowance, but they may serve none the less as evidence to
the same effect as if they were really "primitive" populations.

These communities that are without a defined leisure class
resemble one another also in certain other features of their
social structure and manner of life. They are small groups and of
a simple (archaic) structure; they are commonly peaceable and
sedentary; they are poor; and individual ownership is not a
dominant feature of their economic system. At the same time it
does not follow that these are the smallest of existing
communities, or that their social structure is in all respects
the least differentiated; nor does the class necessarily include
all primitive communities which have no defined system of
individual ownership. But it is to be noted that the class seems
to include the most peaceable -- perhaps all the
characteristically peaceable -- primitive groups of men. Indeed,
the most notable trait common to members of such communities is a
certain amiable inefficiency when confronted with force or fraud.

The evidence afforded by the usages and cultural traits of
communities at a low stage of development indicates that the
institution of a leisure class has emerged gradually during the
transition from primitive savagery to barbarism; or more
precisely, during the transition from a peaceable to a
consistently warlike habit of life. The conditions apparently
necessary to its emergence in a consistent form are: (1) the
community must be of a predatory habit of life (war or the
hunting of large game or both); that is to say, the men, who
constitute the inchoate leisure class in these cases, must be
habituated to the infliction of injury by force and stratagem;
(2) subsistence must be obtainable on sufficiently easy terms to
admit of the exemption of a considerable portion of the community
from steady application to a routine of labour. The institution
of leisure class is the outgrowth of an early discrimination
between employments, according to which some employments are
worthy and others unworthy. Under this ancient distinction the
worthy employments are those which may be classed as exploit;
unworthy are those necessary everyday employments into which no
appreciable element of exploit enters.

This distinction has but little obvious significance in a modern
industrial community, and it has, therefore, received but slight
attention at the hands of economic writers. When viewed in the
light of that modern common sense which has guided economic
discussion, it seems formal and insubstantial. But it persists
with great tenacity as a commonplace preconception even in modern
life, as is shown, for instance, by our habitual aversion to
menial employments. It is a distinction of a personal kind -- of
superiority and inferiority. In the earlier stages of culture,
when the personal force of the individual counted more
immediately and obviously in shaping the course of events, the
element of exploit counted for more in the everyday scheme of
life. Interest centred about this fact to a greater degree.
Consequently a distinction proceeding on this ground seemed more
imperative and more definitive then than is the case to-day. As a
fact in the sequence of development, therefore, the distinction
is a substantial one and rests on sufficiently valid and cogent
grounds.

The ground on which a discrimination between facts is habitually
made changes as the interest from which the facts are habitually
viewed changes. Those features of the facts at hand are salient
and substantial upon which the dominant interest of the time
throws its light. Any given ground of distinction will seem
insubstantial to any one who habitually apprehends the facts in
question from a different point of view and values them for a
different purpose. The habit of distinguishing and classifying
the various purposes and directions of activity prevails of
necessity always and everywhere; for it is indispensable in
reaching a working theory or scheme of life. The particular point
of view, or the particular characteristic that is pitched upon as
definitive in the classification of the facts of life depends
upon the interest from which a discrimination of the facts is
sought. The grounds of discrimination, and the norm of procedure
in classifying the facts, therefore, progressively change as the
growth of culture proceeds; for the end for which the facts of
life are apprehended changes, and the point of view consequently
changes also. So that what are recognised as the salient and
decisive features of a class of activities or of a social class
at one stage of culture will not retain the same relative
importance for the purposes of classification at any subsequent
stage.

But the change of standards and points of view is gradual only,
and it seldom results in the subversion or entire suppression of
a standpoint once accepted. A distinction is still habitually
made between industrial and non-industrial occupations; and this
modern distinction is a transmuted form of the barbarian
distinction between exploit and drudgery. Such employments as
warfare, politics, public worship, and public merrymaking, are
felt, in the popular apprehension, to differ intrinsically from
the labour that has to do with elaborating the material means of
life. The precise line of demarcation is not the same as it was
in the early barbarian scheme, but the broad distinction has not
fallen into disuse.

The tacit, common-sense distinction to-day is, in effect, that
any effort is to be accounted industrial only so far as its
ultimate purpose is the utilisation of non-human things. The
coercive utilisation of man by man is not felt to be an
industrial function; but all effort directed to enhance human
life by taking advantage of the non-human environment is classed
together as industrial activity. By the economists who have best
retained and adapted the classical tradition, man's "power over
nature" is currently postulated as the characteristic fact of
industrial productivity. This industrial power over nature is
taken to include man's power over the life of the beasts and over
all the elemental forces. A line is in this way drawn between
mankind and brute creation.

In other times and among men imbued with a different body of
preconceptions this line is not drawn precisely as we draw it
to-day. In the savage or the barbarian scheme of life it is drawn
in a different place and in another way. In all communities under
the barbarian culture there is an alert and pervading sense of
antithesis between two comprehensive groups of phenomena, in one
of which barbarian man includes himself, and in the other, his
victual. There is a felt antithesis between economic and
non-economic phenomena, but it is not conceived in the modern
fashion; it lies not between man and brute creation, but between
animate and inert things.

It may be an excess of caution at this day to explain that the
barbarian notion which it is here intended to convey by the term
"animate" is not the same as would be conveyed by the word
"living". The term does not cover all living things, and it does
cover a great many others. Such a striking natural phenomenon as
a storm, a disease, a waterfall, are recognised as "animate";
while fruits and herbs, and even inconspicuous animals, such as
house-flies, maggots, lemmings, sheep, are not ordinarily
apprehended as "animate" except when taken collectively. As here
used the term does not necessarily imply an indwelling soul or
spirit. The concept includes such things as in the apprehension
of the animistic savage or barbarian are formidable by virtue of
a real or imputed habit of initiating action. This category
comprises a large number and range of natural objects and
phenomena. Such a distinction between the inert and the active is
still present in the habits of thought of unreflecting persons,
and it still profoundly affects the prevalent theory of human
life and of natural processes; but it does not pervade our daily
life to the extent or with the far-reaching practical
consequences that are apparent at earlier stages of culture and
belief.

To the mind of the barbarian, the elaboration and utilisation of
what is afforded by inert nature is activity on quite a different
plane from his dealings with "animate" things and forces. The
line of demarcation may be vague and shifting, but the broad
distinction is sufficiently real and cogent to influence the
barbarian scheme of life. To the class of things apprehended as
animate, the barbarian fancy imputes an unfolding of activity
directed to some end. It is this teleological unfolding of
activity that constitutes any object or phenomenon an "animate"
fact. Wherever the unsophisticated savage or barbarian meets with
activity that is at all obtrusive, he construes it in the only
terms that are ready to hand -- the terms immediately given in
his consciousness of his own actions. Activity is, therefore,
assimilated to human action, and active objects are in so far
assimilated to the human agent. Phenomena of this character --
especially those whose behaviour is notably formidable or
baffling -- have to be met in a different spirit and with
proficiency of a different kind from what is required in dealing
with inert things. To deal successfully with such phenomena is a
work of exploit rather than of industry. It is an assertion of
prowess, not of diligence.

Under the guidance of this naive discrimination between the inert
and the animate, the activities of the primitive social group
tend to fall into two classes, which would in modern phrase be
called exploit and industry. Industry is effort that goes to
create a new thing, with a new purpose given it by the fashioning
hand of its maker out of passive ("brute") material; while
exploit, so far as it results in an outcome useful to the agent,
is the conversion to his own ends of energies previously directed
to some other end by an other agent. We still speak of "brute
matter" with something of the barbarian's realisation of a
profound significance in the term.

The distinction between exploit and drudgery coincides with a
difference between the sexes. The sexes differ, not only in
stature and muscular force, but perhaps even more decisively in
temperament, and this must early have given rise to a
corresponding division of labour. The general range of activities
that come under the head of exploit falls to the males as being
the stouter, more massive, better capable of a sudden and violent
strain, and more readily inclined to self assertion, active
emulation, and aggression. The difference in mass, in
physiological character, and in temperament may be slight among
the members of the primitive group; it appears, in fact, to be
relatively slight and inconsequential in some of the more archaic
communities with which we are acquainted -- as for instance the
tribes of the Andamans. But so soon as a differentiation of
function has well begun on the lines marked out by this
difference in physique and animus, the original difference
between the sexes will itself widen. A cumulative process of
selective adaptation to the new distribution of employments will
set in, especially if the habitat or the fauna with which the
group is in contact is such as to call for a considerable
exercise of the sturdier virtues. The habitual pursuit of large
game requires more of the manly qualities of massiveness,
agility, and ferocity, and it can therefore scarcely fail to
hasten and widen the differentiation of functions between the
sexes. And so soon as the group comes into hostile contact with
other groups, the divergence of function will take on the
developed form of a distinction between exploit and industry.

In such a predatory group of hunters it comes to be the
able-bodied men's office to fight and hunt. The women do what
other work there is to do -- other members who are unfit for
man's work being for this purpose classed with women. But the
men's hunting and fighting are both of the same general
character. Both are of a predatory nature; the warrior and the
hunter alike reap where they have not strewn. Their aggressive
assertion of force and sagacity differs obviously from the
women's assiduous and uneventful shaping of materials; it is not
to be accounted productive labour but rather an acquisition of
substance by seizure. Such being the barbarian man's work, in its
best development and widest divergence from women's work, any
effort that does not involve an assertion of prowess comes to be
unworthy of the man. As the tradition gains consistency, the
common sense of the community erects it into a canon of conduct;
so that no employment and no acquisition is morally possible to
the self respecting man at this cultural stage, except such as
proceeds on the basis of prowess -- force or fraud. When the
predatory habit of life has been settled upon the group by long
habituation, it becomes the able-bodied man's accredited office
in the social economy to kill, to destroy such competitors in the
struggle for existence as attempt to resist or elude him, to
overcome and reduce to subservience those alien forces that
assert themselves refractorily in the environment. So tenaciously
and with such nicety is this theoretical distinction between
exploit and drudgery adhered to that in many hunting tribes the
man must not bring home the game which he has killed, but must
send his woman to perform that baser office.

As has already been indicated, the distinction between exploit
and drudgery is an invidious distinction between employments.
Those employments which are to be classed as exploit are worthy,
honourable, noble; other employments, which do not contain this
element of exploit, and especially those which imply subservience
or submission, are unworthy, debasing, ignoble. The concept of
dignity, worth, or honour, as applied either to persons or
conduct, is of first-rate consequence in the development of
classes and of class distinctions, and it is therefore necessary
to say something of its derivation and meaning. Its psychological
ground may be indicated in outline as follows.

As a matter of selective necessity, man is an agent. He is, in
his own apprehension, a centre of unfolding impulsive activity --
"teleological" activity. He is an agent seeking in every act the
accomplishment of some concrete, objective, impersonal end. By
force of his being such an agent he is possessed of a taste for
effective work, and a distaste for futile effort. He has a sense
of the merit of serviceability or efficiency and of the demerit
of futility, waste, or incapacity. This aptitude or propensity
may be called the instinct of workmanship. Wherever the
circumstances or traditions of life lead to an habitual
comparison of one person with another in point of efficiency, the
instinct of workmanship works out in an emulative or invidious
comparison of persons. The extent to which this result follows
depends in some considerable degree on the temperament of the
population. In any community where such an invidious comparison
of persons is habitually made, visible success becomes an end
sought for its own utility as a basis of esteem. Esteem is gained
and dispraise is avoided by putting one's efficiency in evidence.
The result is that the instinct of workmanship works out in an
emulative demonstration of force.

During that primitive phase of social development, when the
community is still habitually peaceable, perhaps sedentary, and
without a developed system of individual ownership, the
efficiency of the individual can be shown chiefly and most
consistently in some employment that goes to further the life of
the group. What emulation of an economic kind there is between
the members of such a group will be chiefly emulation in
industrial serviceability. At the same time the incentive to
emulation is not strong, nor is the scope for emulation large.

When the community passes from peaceable savagery to a predatory
phase of life, the conditions of emulation change. The
opportunity and the incentive to emulate increase greatly in
scope and urgency. The activity of the men more and more takes on
the character of exploit; and an invidious comparison of one
hunter or warrior with another grows continually easier and more
habitual. Tangible evidences of prowess -- trophies -- find a
place in men's habits of thought as an essential feature of the
paraphernalia of life. Booty, trophies of the chase or of the
raid, come to be prized as evidence of pre-eminent force.
Aggression becomes the accredited form of action, and booty
serves as prima facie evidence of successful aggression. As
accepted at this cultural stage, the accredited, worthy form of
self-assertion is contest; and useful articles or services
obtained by seizure or compulsion, serve as a conventional
evidence of successful contest. Therefore, by contrast, the
obtaining of goods by other methods than seizure comes to be
accounted unworthy of man in his best estate. The performance of
productive work, or employment in personal service, falls under
the same odium for the same reason. An invidious distinction in
this way arises between exploit and acquisition on the other
hand. Labour acquires a character of irksomeness by virtue of the
indignity imputed to it.

With the primitive barbarian, before the simple content of the
notion has been obscured by its own ramifications and by a
secondary growth of cognate ideas, "honourable" seems to connote
nothing else than assertion of superior force. "Honourable" is
"formidable"; "worthy" is "prepotent". A honorific act is in the
last analysis little if anything else than a recognised
successful act of aggression; and where aggression means conflict
with men and beasts, the activity which comes to be especially
and primarily honourable is the assertion of the strong hand. The
naive, archaic habit of construing all manifestations of force in
terms of personality or "will power" greatly fortifies this
conventional exaltation of the strong hand. Honorific epithets,
in vogue among barbarian tribes as well as among peoples of a
more advance culture, commonly bear the stamp of this
unsophisticated sense of honour. Epithets and titles used in
addressing chieftains, and in the propitiation of kings and gods,
very commonly impute a propensity for overbearing violence and an
irresistible devastating force to the person who is to be
propitiated. This holds true to an extent also in the more
civilised communities of the present day. The predilection shown
in heraldic devices for the more rapacious beasts and birds of
prey goes to enforce the same view.

Under this common-sense barbarian appreciation of worth or
honour, the taking of life -- the killing of formidable
competitors, whether brute or human -- is honourable in the
highest degree. And this high office of slaughter, as an
expression of the slayer's prepotence, casts a glamour of worth
over every act of slaughter and over all the tools and
accessories of the act. Arms are honourable, and the use of them,
even in seeking the life of the meanest creatures of the fields,
becomes a honorific employment. At the same time, employment in
industry becomes correspondingly odious, and, in the common-sense
apprehension, the handling of the tools and implements of
industry falls beneath the dignity of able-bodied men. Labour
becomes irksome.

It is here assumed that in the sequence of cultural
evolution primitive groups of men have passed from an initial
peaceable stage to a subsequent stage at which fighting is the
avowed and characteristic employment of the group. But it is not
implied that there has been an abrupt transition from unbroken
peace and good-will to a later or higher phase of life in which
the fact of combat occurs for the first time. Neither is it
implied that all peaceful industry disappears on the transition
to the predatory phase of culture. Some fighting, it is safe to
say, would be met with at any early stage of social development.
Fights would occur with more or less frequency through sexual
competition. The known habits of primitive groups, as well as the
habits of the anthropoid apes, argue to that effect, and the
evidence from the well-known promptings of human nature enforces
the same view.

It may therefore be objected that there can have been no such initial
stage of peaceable life as is here assumed. There is no point in
cultural evolution prior to which fighting does not occur.  But the
point in question is not as to the occurrence of combat, occasional or
sporadic, or even more or less frequent and habitual; it is a question
as to the occurrence of an habitual; it is a question as to the
occurrence of an habitual bellicose frame of mind -- a prevalent habit
of judging facts and events from the point of view of the fight. The
predatory phase of culture is attained only when the predatory
attitude has become the habitual and accredited spiritual attitude for
the members of the group; when the fight has become the dominant note
in the current theory of life; when the common-sense appreciation of
men and things has come to be an appreciation with a view to combat.

The substantial difference between the peaceable and the
predatory phase of culture, therefore, is a spiritual difference,
not a mechanical one. The change in spiritual attitude is the
outgrowth of a change in the material facts of the life of the
group, and it comes on gradually as the material circumstances
favourable to a predatory attitude supervene. The inferior limit
of the predatory culture is an industrial limit. Predation can
not become the habitual, conventional resource of any group or
any class until industrial methods have been developed to such a
degree of efficiency as to leave a margin worth fighting for,
above the subsistence of those engaged in getting a living. The
transition from peace to predation therefore depends on the
growth of technical knowledge and the use of tools. A predatory
culture is similarly impracticable in early times, until weapons
have been developed to such a point as to make man a formidable
animal. The early development of tools and of weapons is of
course the same fact seen from two different points of view.

The life of a given group would be characterised as
peaceable so long as habitual recourse to combat has not brought
the fight into the foreground in men's every day thoughts, as a
dominant feature of the life of man. A group may evidently attain
such a predatory attitude with a greater or less degree of
completeness, so that its scheme of life and canons of conduct
may be controlled to a greater or less extent by the predatory
animus. The predatory phase of culture is therefore conceived to
come on gradually, through a cumulative growth of predatory
aptitudes habits, and traditions this growth being due to a
change in the circumstances of the group's life, of such a kind
as to develop and conserve those traits of human nature and those
traditions and norms of conduct that make for a predatory rather
than a peaceable life.

The evidence for the hypothesis that there has been such a
peaceable stage of primitive culture is in great part drawn from
psychology rather than from ethnology, and cannot be detailed
here. It will be recited in part in a later chapter, in
discussing the survival of archaic traits of human nature under
the modern culture.




Chapter Two

Pecuniary Emulation

In the sequence of cultural evolution the emergence of a leisure
class coincides with the beginning of ownership. This is
necessarily the case, for these two institutions result from the
same set of economic forces. In the inchoate phase of their
development they are but different aspects of the same general
facts of social structure.

It is as elements of social structure -- conventional facts --
that leisure and ownership are matters of interest for the
purpose in hand. An habitual neglect of work does not constitute
a leisure class; neither does the mechanical fact of use and
consumption constitute ownership. The present inquiry, therefore,
is not concerned with the beginning of indolence, nor with the
beginning of the appropriation of useful articles to individual
consumption. The point in question is the origin and nature of a
conventional leisure class on the one hand and the beginnings of
individual ownership as a conventional right or equitable claim
on the other hand.

The early differentiation out of which the distinction between a
leisure and a working class arises is a division maintained
between men's and women's work in the lower stages of barbarism.
Likewise the earliest form of ownership is an
ownership of the women by the able bodied men of the community.
The facts may be expressed in more general terms, and truer to
the import of the barbarian theory of life, by saying that it is
an ownership of the woman by the man.

There was undoubtedly some appropriation of useful articles
before the custom of appropriating women arose. The usages of
existing archaic communities in which there is no ownership of
women is warrant for such a view. In all communities the members,
both male and female, habitually appropriate to their individual
use a variety of useful things; but these useful things are not
thought of as owned by the person who appropriates and consumes
them. The habitual appropriation and consumption of certain
slight personal effects goes on without raising the question of
ownership; that is to say, the question of a conventional,
equitable claim to extraneous things.

The ownership of women begins in the lower barbarian stages of
culture, apparently with the seizure of female captives. The
original reason for the seizure and appropriation of women seems
to have been their usefulness as trophies. The practice of
seizing women from the enemy as trophies, gave rise to a form of
ownership-marriage, resulting in a household with a male head.
This was followed by an extension of slavery to other captives
and inferiors, besides women, and by an extension of
ownership-marriage to other women than those seized from the
enemy. The outcome of emulation under the circumstances of a
predatory life, therefore, has been on the one hand a form of
marriage resting on coercion, and on the other hand the custom of
ownership. The two institutions are not distinguishable in the
initial phase of their development; both arise from the desire of
the successful men to put their prowess in evidence by exhibiting
some durable result of their exploits. Both also minister to that
propensity for mastery which pervades all predatory communities.
From the ownership of women the concept of ownership extends
itself to include the products of their industry, and so there
arises the ownership of things as well as of persons.

In this way a consistent system of property in goods is gradually
installed. And although in the latest stages of the development,
the serviceability of goods for consumption has come to be the
most obtrusive element of their value, still, wealth has by no
means yet lost its utility as a honorific evidence of the owner's
prepotence.

Wherever the institution of private property is found, even in a
slightly developed form, the economic process bears the character
of a struggle between men for the possession of goods. It has
been customary in economic theory, and especially among those
economists who adhere with least faltering to the body of
modernised classical doctrines, to construe this struggle for
wealth as being substantially a struggle for subsistence. Such
is, no doubt, its character in large part during the earlier and
less efficient phases of industry. Such is also its character in
all cases where the "niggardliness of nature" is so strict as to
afford but a scanty livelihood to the community in return for
strenuous and unremitting application to the business of getting
the means of subsistence. But in all progressing communities an
advance is presently made beyond this early stage of
technological development. Industrial efficiency is presently
carried to such a pitch as to afford something appreciably more
than a bare livelihood to those engaged in the industrial
process. It has not been unusual for economic theory to speak of
the further struggle for wealth on this new industrial basis as a
competition for an increase of the comforts of life, -- primarily
for an increase of the physical comforts which the consumption of
goods affords.

The end of acquisition and accumulation is conventionally held to
be the consumption of the goods accumulated -- whether it is
consumption directly by the owner of the goods or by the
household attached to him and for this purpose identified with
him in theory. This is at least felt to be the economically
legitimate end of acquisition, which alone it is incumbent on the
theory to take account of. Such consumption may of course be
conceived to serve the consumer's physical wants -- his physical
comfort -- or his so-called higher wants -- spiritual, aesthetic,
intellectual, or what not; the latter class of wants being served
indirectly by an expenditure of goods, after the fashion familiar
to all economic readers.

But it is only when taken in a sense far removed from its naive
meaning that consumption of goods can be said to afford the
incentive from which accumulation invariably proceeds. The motive
that lies at the root of ownership is emulation; and the same
motive of emulation continues active in the further development
of the institution to which it has given rise and in the
development of all those features of the social structure which
this institution of ownership touches. The possession of wealth
confers honour; it is an invidious distinction. Nothing equally
cogent can be said for the consumption of goods, nor for any
other conceivable incentive to acquisition, and especially not
for any incentive to accumulation of wealth.

It is of course not to be overlooked that in a community where
nearly all goods are private property the necessity of earning a
livelihood is a powerful and ever present incentive for the
poorer members of the community. The need of subsistence and of
an increase of physical comfort may for a time be the dominant
motive of acquisition for those classes who are habitually
employed at manual labour, whose subsistence is on a precarious
footing, who possess little and ordinarily accumulate little; but
it will appear in the course of the discussion that even in the
case of these impecunious classes the predominance of the motive
of physical want is not so decided as has sometimes been assumed.
On the other hand, so far as regards those members and classes of
the community who are chiefly concerned in the accumulation of
wealth, the incentive of subsistence or of physical comfort never
plays a considerable part. Ownership began and grew into a human
institution on grounds unrelated to the subsistence minimum. The
dominant incentive was from the outset the invidious distinction
attaching to wealth, and, save temporarily and by exception, no
other motive has usurped the primacy at any later stage of the
development.

Property set out with being booty held as trophies of the
successful raid. So long as the group had departed and so long as
it still stood in close contact with other hostile groups, the
utility of things or persons owned lay chiefly in an invidious
comparison between their possessor and the enemy from whom they
were taken. The habit of distinguishing between the interests of
the individual and those of the group to which he belongs is
apparently a later growth. Invidious comparison between the
possessor of the honorific booty and his less successful
neighbours within the group was no doubt present early as an
element of the utility of the things possessed, though this was
not at the outset the chief element of their value. The man's
prowess was still primarily the group's prowess, and the
possessor of the booty felt himself to be primarily the keeper of
the honour of his group. This appreciation of exploit from the
communal point of view is met with also at later stages of social
growth, especially as regards the laurels of war.

But as soon as the custom of individual ownership begins to gain
consistency, the point of view taken in making the invidious
comparison on which private property rests will begin to change.
Indeed, the one change is but the reflex of the other. The
initial phase of ownership, the phase of acquisition by naive
seizure and conversion, begins to pass into the subsequent stage
of an incipient organization of industry on the basis of private
property (in slaves); the horde develops into a more or less
self-sufficing industrial community; possessions then come to be
valued not so much as evidence of successful foray, but rather as
evidence of the prepotence of the possessor of these goods over
other individuals within the community. The invidious comparison
now becomes primarily a comparison of the owner with the other
members of the group. Property is still of the nature of trophy,
but, with the cultural advance, it becomes more and more a trophy
of successes scored in the game of ownership carried on between
the members of the group under the quasi-peaceable methods of
nomadic life.

Gradually, as industrial activity further displaced
predatory activity in the community's everyday life and in men's
habits of thought, accumulated property more and more replaces
trophies of predatory exploit as the conventional exponent of
prepotence and success. With the growth of settled industry,
therefore, the possession of wealth gains in relative importance
and effectiveness as a customary basis of repute and esteem. Not
that esteem ceases to be awarded on the basis of other, more
direct evidence of prowess; not that successful predatory
aggression or warlike exploit ceases to call out the approval and
admiration of the crowd, or to stir the envy of the less
successful competitors; but the opportunities for gaining
distinction by means of this direct manifestation of superior
force grow less available both in scope and frequency. At the
same time opportunities for industrial aggression, and for the
accumulation of property, increase in scope and availability. And
it is even more to the point that property now becomes the most
easily recognised evidence of a reputable degree of success as
distinguished from heroic or signal achievement. It therefore
becomes the conventional basis of esteem. Its possession in some
amount becomes necessary in order to any reputable standing in
the community. It becomes indispensable to accumulate, to acquire
property, in order to retain one's good name. When accumulated
goods have in this way once become the accepted badge of
efficiency, the possession of wealth presently assumes the
character of an independent and definitive basis of esteem. The
possession of goods, whether acquired aggressively by one's own
exertion or passively by transmission through inheritance from
others, becomes a conventional basis of reputability. The
possession of wealth, which was at the outset valued simply as an
evidence of efficiency, becomes, in popular apprehension, itself
a meritorious act. Wealth is now itself intrinsically honourable
and confers honour on its possessor. By a further refinement,
wealth acquired passively by transmission from ancestors or other
antecedents presently becomes even more honorific than wealth
acquired by the possessor's own effort; but this distinction
belongs at a later stage in the evolution of the pecuniary
culture and will be spoken of in its place.

Prowess and exploit may still remain the basis of award of the
highest popular esteem, although the possession of wealth has
become the basis of common place reputability and of a blameless
social standing. The predatory instinct and the consequent
approbation of predatory efficiency are deeply ingrained in the
habits of thought of those peoples who have passed under the
discipline of a protracted predatory culture. According to
popular award, the highest honours within human reach may, even
yet, be those gained by an unfolding of extraordinary predatory
efficiency in war, or by a quasi-predatory efficiency in
statecraft; but for the purposes of a commonplace decent standing
in the community these means of repute have been replaced by the
acquisition and accumulation of goods. In order to stand well in
the eyes of the community, it is necessary to come up to a
certain, somewhat indefinite, conventional standard of wealth;
just as in the earlier predatory stage it is necessary for the
barbarian man to come up to the tribe's standard of physical
endurance, cunning, and skill at arms. A certain standard of
wealth in the one case, and of prowess in the other, is a
necessary condition of reputability, and anything in excess of
this normal amount is meritorious.

Those members of the community who fall short of this, somewhat
indefinite, normal degree of prowess or of property suffer in the
esteem of their fellow-men; and consequently they suffer also in
their own esteem, since the usual basis of self-respect is the
respect accorded by one's neighbours. Only individuals with an
aberrant temperament can in the long run retain their self-esteem
in the face of the disesteem of their fellows. Apparent
exceptions to the rule are met with, especially among people with
strong religious convictions. But these apparent exceptions are
scarcely real exceptions, since such persons commonly fall back
on the putative approbation of some supernatural witness of their
deeds.

So soon as the possession of property becomes the basis of
popular esteem, therefore, it becomes also a requisite to the
complacency which we call self-respect. In any community where
goods are held in severalty it is necessary, in order to his own
peace of mind, that an individual should possess as large a
portion of goods as others with whom he is accustomed to class
himself; and it is extremely gratifying to possess something more
than others. But as fast as a person makes new acquisitions, and
becomes accustomed to the resulting new standard of wealth, the
new standard forthwith ceases to afford appreciably greater
satisfaction than the earlier standard did. The tendency in any
case is constantly to make the present pecuniary standard the
point of departure for a fresh increase of wealth; and this in
turn gives rise to a new standard of sufficiency and a new
pecuniary classification of one's self as compared with one's
neighbours. So far as concerns the present question, the end
sought by accumulation is to rank high in comparison with the
rest of the community in point of pecuniary strength. So long as
the comparison is distinctly unfavourable to himself, the normal,
average individual will live in chronic dissatisfaction with his
present lot; and when he has reached what may be called the
normal pecuniary standard of the community, or of his class in
the community, this chronic dissatisfaction will give place to a
restless straining to place a wider and ever-widening pecuniary
interval between himself and this average standard. The invidious
comparison can never become so favourable to the individual
making it that he would not gladly rate himself still higher
relatively to his competitors in the struggle for pecuniary
reputability.

In the nature of the case, the desire for wealth can scarcely be
satiated in any individual instance, and evidently a satiation of
the average or general desire for wealth is out of the question.
However widely, or equally, or "fairly", it may be distributed,
no general increase of the community's wealth can make any
approach to satiating this need, the ground of which approach to
satiating this need, the ground of which is the desire of every
one to excel every one else in the accumulation of goods.  If, as
is sometimes assumed, the incentive to accumulation were the want
of subsistence or of physical comfort, then the aggregate
economic wants of a community might conceivably be satisfied at
some point in the advance of industrial efficiency; but since the
struggle is substantially a race for reputability on the basis of
an invidious comparison, no approach to a definitive attainment
is possible.

What has just been said must not be taken to mean that there are
no other incentives to acquisition and accumulation than this
desire to excel in pecuniary standing and so gain the esteem and
envy of one's fellow-men. The desire for added comfort and
security from want is present as a motive at every stage of the
process of accumulation in a modern industrial community;
although the standard of sufficiency in these respects is in turn
greatly affected by the habit of pecuniary emulation. To a great
extent this emulation shapes the methods and selects the objects
of expenditure for personal comfort and decent livelihood.

Besides this, the power conferred by wealth also affords a motive
to accumulation. That propensity for purposeful activity and that
repugnance to all futility of effort which belong to man by
virtue of his character as an agent do not desert him when he
emerges from the naive communal culture where the dominant note
of life is the unanalysed and undifferentiated solidarity of the
individual with the group with which his life is bound up. When
he enters upon the predatory stage, where self-seeking in the
narrower sense becomes the dominant note, this propensity goes
with him still, as the pervasive trait that shapes his scheme of
life. The propensity for achievement and the repugnance to
futility remain the underlying economic motive. The propensity
changes only in the form of its expression and in the proximate
objects to which it directs the man's activity. Under the regime
of individual ownership the most available means of visibly
achieving a purpose is that afforded by the acquisition and
accumulation of goods; and as the self-regarding antithesis
between man and man reaches fuller consciousness, the propensity
for achievement -- the instinct of workmanship -- tends more and
more to shape itself into a straining to excel others in
pecuniary achievement. Relative success, tested by an invidious
pecuniary comparison with other men, becomes the conventional end
of action. The currently accepted legitimate end of effort
becomes the achievement of a favourable comparison with other
men; and therefore the repugnance to futility to a good extent
coalesces with the incentive of emulation. It acts to accentuate
the struggle for pecuniary reputability by visiting with a
sharper disapproval all shortcoming and all evidence of
shortcoming in point of pecuniary success. Purposeful effort
comes to mean, primarily, effort directed to or resulting in a
more creditable showing of accumulated wealth. Among the motives
which lead men to accumulate wealth, the primacy, both in scope
and intensity, therefore, continues to belong to this motive of
pecuniary emulation.

In making use of the term "invidious", it may perhaps be
unnecessary to remark, there is no intention to extol or
depreciate, or to commend or deplore any of the phenomena which
the word is used to characterise. The term is used in a technical
sense as describing a comparison of persons with a view to rating
and grading them in respect of relative worth or value -- in an
aesthetic or moral sense -- and so awarding and defining the
relative degrees of complacency with which they may legitimately
be contemplated by themselves and by others. An invidious
comparison is a process of valuation of persons in respect of
worth.




Chapter Three

Conspicuous Leisure

If its working were not disturbed by other economic forces or
other features of the emulative process, the immediate effect of
such a pecuniary struggle as has just been described in outline
would be to make men industrious and frugal. This result actually
follows, in some measure, so far as regards the lower classes,
whose ordinary means of acquiring goods is productive labour.
This is more especially true of the labouring classes in a
sedentary community which is at an agricultural stage of
industry, in which there is a considerable subdivision of
industry, and whose laws and customs secure to these classes a
more or less definite share of the product of their industry.
These lower classes can in any case not avoid labour, and the
imputation of labour is therefore not greatly derogatory to them,
at least not within their class. Rather, since labour is their
recognised and accepted mode of life, they take some emulative
pride in a reputation for efficiency in their work, this being
often the only line of emulation that is open to them. For those
for whom acquisition and emulation is possible only within the
field of productive efficiency and thrift, the struggle for
pecuniary reputability will in some measure work out in an
increase of diligence and parsimony. But certain secondary
features of the emulative process, yet to be spoken of, come in
to very materially circumscribe and modify emulation in these
directions among the pecuniary inferior classes as well as among
the superior class.

But it is otherwise with the superior pecuniary class, with which
we are here immediately concerned. For this class also the
incentive to diligence and thrift is not absent; but its action
is so greatly qualified by the secondary demands of pecuniary
emulation, that any inclination in this direction is practically
overborne and any incentive to diligence tends to be of no
effect. The most imperative of these secondary demands of
emulation, as well as the one of widest scope, is the requirement
of abstention from productive work. This is true in an especial
degree for the barbarian stage of culture. During the predatory
culture labour comes to be associated in men's habits of thought
with weakness and subjection to a master. It is therefore a mark
of inferiority, and therefore comes to be accounted unworthy of
man in his best estate. By virtue of this tradition labour is
felt to be debasing, and this tradition has never died out. On
the contrary, with the advance of social differentiation it has
acquired the axiomatic force due to ancient and unquestioned
prescription.

In order to gain and to hold the esteem of men it is not
sufficient merely to possess wealth or power. The wealth or power
must be put in evidence, for esteem is awarded only on evidence.
And not only does the evidence of wealth serve to impress one's
importance on others and to keep their sense of his importance
alive and alert, but it is of scarcely less use in building up
and preserving one's self-complacency. In all but the lowest
stages of culture the normally constituted man is comforted and
upheld in his self-respect by "decent surroundings" and by
exemption from "menial offices". Enforced departure from his
habitual standard of decency, either in the paraphernalia of life
or in the kind and amount of his everyday activity, is felt to be
a slight upon his human dignity, even apart from all conscious
consideration of the approval or disapproval of his fellows.

The archaic theoretical distinction between the base and the
honourable in the manner of a man's life retains very much of its
ancient force even today. So much so that there are few of the
better class who are no possessed of an instinctive repugnance
for the vulgar forms of labour. We have a realising sense of
ceremonial uncleanness attaching in an especial degree to the
occupations which are associated in our habits of thought with
menial service. It is felt by all persons of refined taste that a
spiritual contamination is inseparable from certain offices that
are conventionally required of servants. Vulgar surroundings,
mean (that is to say, inexpensive) habitations, and vulgarly
productive occupations are unhesitatingly condemned and avoided.
They are incompatible with life on a satisfactory spiritual plane
__ with "high thinking". From the days of the Greek philosophers
to the present, a degree of leisure and of exemption from contact
with such industrial processes as serve the immediate everyday
purposes of human life has ever been recognised by thoughtful men
as a prerequisite to a worthy or beautiful, or even a blameless,
human life. In itself and in its consequences the life of leisure
is beautiful and ennobling in all civilised men's eyes.

This direct, subjective value of leisure and of other evidences
of wealth is no doubt in great part secondary and derivative. It
is in part a reflex of the utility of leisure as a means of
gaining the respect of others, and in part it is the result of a
mental substitution. The performance of labour has been accepted
as a conventional evidence of inferior force; therefore it comes
itself, by a mental short-cut, to be regarded as intrinsically
base.

During the predatory stage proper, and especially during the
earlier stages of the quasi-peaceable development of industry
that follows the predatory stage, a life of leisure is the
readiest and most conclusive evidence of pecuniary strength, and
therefore of superior force; provided always that the gentleman
of leisure can live in manifest ease and comfort. At this stage
wealth consists chiefly of slaves, and the benefits accruing from
the possession of riches and power take the form chiefly of
personal service and the immediate products of personal service.
Conspicuous abstention from labour therefore becomes the
conventional mark of superior pecuniary achievement and the
conventional index of reputability; and conversely, since
application to productive labour is a mark of poverty and
subjection, it becomes inconsistent with a reputable standing in
the community. Habits of industry and thrift, therefore, are not
uniformly furthered by a prevailing pecuniary emulation. On the
contrary, this kind of emulation indirectly discountenances
participation in productive labour. Labour would unavoidably
become dishonourable, as being an evidence indecorous under the
ancient tradition handed down from an earlier cultural stage. The
ancient tradition of the predatory culture is that productive
effort is to be shunned as being unworthy of able-bodied men, and
this tradition is reinforced rather than set aside in the passage
from the predatory to the quasi-peaceable manner of life.

Even if the institution of a leisure class had not come in with
the first emergence of individual ownership, by force of the
dishonour attaching to productive employment, it would in any
case have come in as one of the early consequences of ownership.
And it is to be remarked that while the leisure class existed in
theory from the beginning of predatory culture, the institution
takes on a new and fuller meaning with the transition from the
predatory to the next succeeding pecuniary stage of culture. It
is from this time forth a "leisure class" in fact as well as in
theory. From this point dates the institution of the leisure
class in its consummate form.

During the predatory stage proper the distinction between the
leisure and the labouring class is in some degree a ceremonial
distinction only. The able bodied men jealously stand aloof from
whatever is in their apprehension, menial drudgery; but their
activity in fact contributes appreciably to the sustenance of the
group. The subsequent stage of quasi-peaceable industry is
usually characterised by an established chattel slavery, herds of
cattle, and a servile class of herdsmen and shepherds; industry
has advanced so far that the community is no longer dependent for
its livelihood on the chase or on any other form of activity that
can fairly be classed as exploit. From this point on, the
characteristic feature of leisure class life is a conspicuous
exemption from all useful employment.

The normal and characteristic occupations of the class in this
mature phase of its life history are in form very much the same
as in its earlier days. These occupations are government, war,
sports, and devout observances. Persons unduly given to difficult
theoretical niceties may hold that these occupations are still
incidentally and indirectly "productive"; but it is to be noted
as decisive of the question in hand that the ordinary and
ostensible motive of the leisure class in engaging in these
occupations is assuredly not an increase of wealth by productive
effort. At this as at any other cultural stage, government and
war are, at least in part, carried on for the pecuniary gain of
those who engage in them; but it is gain obtained by the
honourable method of seizure and conversion. These occupations
are of the nature of predatory, not of productive, employment.
Something similar may be said of the chase, but with a
difference. As the community passes out of the hunting stage
proper, hunting gradually becomes differentiated into two
distinct employments. On the one hand it is a trade, carried on
chiefly for gain; and from this the element of exploit is
virtually absent, or it is at any rate not present in a
sufficient degree to clear the pursuit of the imputation of
gainful industry. On the other hand, the chase is also a sport
-- an exercise of the predatory impulse simply. As such it does
not afford any appreciable pecuniary incentive, but it contains a
more or less obvious element of exploit. It is this latter
development of the chase -- purged of all imputation of
handicraft -- that alone is meritorious and fairly belongs in the
scheme of life of the developed leisure class.

Abstention from labour is not only a honorific or meritorious
act, but it presently comes to be a requisite of decency. The
insistence on property as the basis of reputability is very naive
and very imperious during the early stages of the accumulation of
wealth. Abstention from labour is the convenient evidence of
wealth and is therefore the conventional mark of social standing;
and this insistence on the meritoriousness of wealth leads to a
more strenuous insistence on leisure. Nota notae est nota rei
ipsius. According to well established laws of human nature,
prescription presently seizes upon this conventional evidence of
wealth and fixes it in men's habits of thought as something that
is in itself substantially meritorious and ennobling; while
productive labour at the same time and by a like process becomes
in a double sense intrinsically unworthy. Prescription ends by
making labour not only disreputable in the eyes of the community,
but morally impossible to the noble, freeborn man, and
incompatible with a worthy life.

This tabu on labour has a further consequence in the industrial
differentiation of classes. As the population increases in
density and the predatory group grows into a settled industrial
community, the constituted authorities and the customs governing
ownership gain in scope and consistency. It then presently
becomes impracticable to accumulate wealth by simple seizure,
and, in logical consistency, acquisition by industry is equally
impossible for high minded and impecunious men. The alternative
open to them is beggary or privation. Wherever the canon of
conspicuous leisure has a chance undisturbed to work out its
tendency, there will therefore emerge a secondary, and in a sense
spurious, leisure class -- abjectly poor and living in a
precarious life of want and discomfort, but morally unable to
stoop to gainful pursuits. The decayed gentleman and the lady who
has seen better days are by no means unfamiliar phenomena even
now. This pervading sense of the indignity of the slightest
manual labour is familiar to all civilized peoples, as well as to
peoples of a less advanced pecuniary culture. In persons of a
delicate sensibility who have long been habituated to gentle
manners, the sense of the shamefulness of manual labour may
become so strong that, at a critical juncture, it will even set
aside the instinct of self-preservation. So, for instance, we are
told of certain Polynesian chiefs, who, under the stress of good
form, preferred to starve rather than carry their food to their
mouths with their own hands. It is true, this conduct may have
been due, at least in part, to an excessive sanctity or tabu
attaching to the chief's person. The tabu would have been
communicated by the contact of his hands, and so would have made
anything touched by him unfit for human food. But the tabu is
itself a derivative of the unworthiness or moral incompatibility
of labour; so that even when construed in this sense the conduct
of the Polynesian chiefs is truer to the canon of honorific
leisure than would at first appear. A better illustration, or at
least a more unmistakable one, is afforded by a certain king of
France, who is said to have lost his life through an excess of
moral stamina in the observance of good form. In the absence of
the functionary whose office it was to shift his master's seat,
the king sat uncomplaining before the fire and suffered his royal
person to be toasted beyond recovery. But in so doing he saved
his Most Christian Majesty from menial contamination.  Summum
crede nefas animam praeferre pudori, Et propter vitam vivendi
perdere causas.

It has already been remarked that the term "leisure", as here
used, does not connote indolence or quiescence. What it connotes
is non-productive consumption of time. Time is consumed
non-productively (1) from a sense of the unworthiness of
productive work, and (2) as an evidence of pecuniary ability to
afford a life of idleness. But the whole of the life of the
gentleman of leisure is not spent before the eyes of the
spectators who are to be impressed with that spectacle of
honorific leisure which in the ideal scheme makes up his life.
For some part of the time his life is perforce withdrawn from the
public eye, and of this portion which is spent in private the
gentleman of leisure should, for the sake of his good name, be
able to give a convincing account. He should find some means of
putting in evidence the leisure that is not spent in the sight of
the spectators. This can be done only indirectly, through the
exhibition of some tangible, lasting results of the leisure so
spent -- in a manner analogous to the familiar exhibition of
tangible, lasting products of the labour performed for the
gentleman of leisure by handicraftsmen and servants in his
employ.

The lasting evidence of productive labour is its material product
-- commonly some article of consumption. In the case of exploit
it is similarly possible and usual to procure some tangible
result that may serve for exhibition in the way of trophy or
booty. At a later phase of the development it is customary to
assume some badge of insignia of honour that will serve as a
conventionally accepted mark of exploit, and which at the same
time indicates the quantity or degree of exploit of which it is
the symbol. As the population increases in density, and as human
relations grow more complex and numerous, all the details of life
undergo a process of elaboration and selection; and in this
process of elaboration the use of trophies develops into a system
of rank, titles, degrees and insignia, typical examples of which
are heraldic devices, medals, and honorary decorations.

As seen from the economic point of view, leisure,
considered as an employment, is closely allied in kind with the
life of exploit; and the achievements which characterise a life
of leisure, and which remain as its decorous criteria, have much
in common with the trophies of exploit. But leisure in the
narrower sense, as distinct from exploit and from any ostensibly
productive employment of effort on objects which are of no
intrinsic use, does not commonly leave a material product. The
criteria of a past performance of leisure therefore commonly take
the form of "immaterial" goods. Such immaterial evidences of past
leisure are quasi-scholarly or quasi-artistic accomplishments and
a knowledge of processes and incidents which do not conduce
directly to the furtherance of human life. So, for instance, in
our time there is the knowledge of the dead languages and the
occult sciences; of correct spelling; of syntax and prosody; of
the various forms of domestic music and other household art; of
the latest properties of dress, furniture, and equipage; of
games, sports, and fancy-bred animals, such as dogs and
race-horses. In all these branches of knowledge the initial
motive from which their acquisition proceeded at the outset, and
through which they first came into vogue, may have been something
quite different from the wish to show that one's time had not
been spent in industrial employment; but unless these
accomplishments had approved themselves as serviceable evidence
of an unproductive expenditure of time, they would not have
survived and held their place as conventional accomplishments of
the leisure class.

These accomplishments may, in some sense, be classed as branches
of learning. Beside and beyond these there is a further range of
social facts which shade off from the region of learning into
that of physical habit and dexterity. Such are what is known as
manners and breeding, polite usage, decorum, and formal and
ceremonial observances generally. This class of facts are even
more immediately and obtrusively presented to the observation,
and they therefore more widely and more imperatively insisted on
as required evidences of a reputable degree of leisure. It is
worth while to remark that all that class of ceremonial
observances which are classed under the general head of manners
hold a more important place in the esteem of men during the stage
of culture at which conspicuous leisure has the greatest vogue as
a mark of reputability, than at later stages of the cultural
development. The barbarian of the quasi-peaceable stage of
industry is notoriously a more high-bred gentleman, in all that
concerns decorum, than any but the very exquisite among the men
of a later age. Indeed, it is well known, or at least it is
currently believed, that manners have progressively deteriorated
as society has receded from the patriarchal stage. Many a
gentleman of the old school has been provoked to remark
regretfully upon the under-bred manners and bearing of even the
better classes in the modern industrial communities; and the
decay of the ceremonial code -- or as it is otherwise called, the
vulgarisation of life -- among the industrial classes proper has
become one of the chief enormities of latter-day civilisation in
the eyes of all persons of delicate sensibilities. The decay
which the code has suffered at the hands of a busy people
testifies -- all depreciation apart -- to the fact that decorum
is a product and an exponent of leisure class life and thrives in
full measure only under a regime of status.

The origin, or better the derivation, of manners is no doubt, to
be sought elsewhere than in a conscious effort on the part of the
well-mannered to show that much time has been spent in acquiring
them. The proximate end of innovation and elaboration has been
the higher effectiveness of the new departure in point of beauty
or of expressiveness. In great part the ceremonial code of
decorous usages owes its beginning and its growth to the desire
to conciliate or to show good-will, as anthropologists and
sociologists are in the habit of assuming, and this initial
motive is rarely if ever absent from the conduct of well-mannered
persons at any stage of the later development. Manners, we are
told, are in part an elaboration of gesture, and in part they are
symbolical and conventionalised survivals representing former
acts of dominance or of personal service or of personal contact.
In large part they are an expression of the relation of status,
-- a symbolic pantomime of mastery on the one hand and of
subservience on the other. Wherever at the present time the
predatory habit of mind, and the consequent attitude of mastery
and of subservience, gives its character to the accredited scheme
of life, there the importance of all punctilios of conduct is
extreme, and the assiduity with which the ceremonial observance
of rank and titles is attended to approaches closely to the ideal
set by the barbarian of the quasi-peaceable nomadic culture. Some
of the Continental countries afford good illustrations of this
spiritual survival. In these communities the archaic ideal is
similarly approached as regards the esteem accorded to manners as
a fact of intrinsic worth.

Decorum set out with being symbol and pantomime and with having
utility only as an exponent of the facts and qualities
symbolised; but it presently suffered the transmutation which
commonly passes over symbolical facts in human intercourse.
Manners presently came, in popular apprehension, to be possessed
of a substantial utility in themselves; they acquired a
sacramental character, in great measure independent of the facts
which they originally prefigured. Deviations from the code of
decorum have become intrinsically odious to all men, and good
breeding is, in everyday apprehension, not simply an adventitious
mark of human excellence, but an integral feature of the worthy
human soul. There are few things that so touch us with
instinctive revulsion as a breach of decorum; and so far have we
progressed in the direction of imputing intrinsic utility to the
ceremonial observances of etiquette that few of us, if any, can
dissociate an offence against etiquette from a sense of the
substantial unworthiness of the offender. A breach of faith may
be condoned, but a breach of decorum can not. "Manners maketh
man."

None the less, while manners have this intrinsic utility, in the
apprehension of the performer and the beholder alike, this sense
of the intrinsic rightness of decorum is only the proximate
ground of the vogue of manners and breeding. Their ulterior,
economic ground is to be sought in the honorific character of
that leisure or non-productive employment of time and effort
without which good manners are not acquired. The knowledge and
habit of good form come only by long-continued use. Refined
tastes, manners, habits of life are a useful evidence of
gentility, because good breeding requires time, application and
expense, and can therefore not be compassed by those whose time
and energy are taken up with work. A knowledge of good form is
prima facie evidence that that portion of the well-bred person's
life which is not spent under the observation of the spectator
has been worthily spent in acquiring accomplishments that are of
no lucrative effect. In the last analysis the value of manners
lies in the fact that they are the voucher of a life of leisure.
Therefore, conversely, since leisure is the conventional means of
pecuniary repute, the acquisition of some proficiency in decorum
is incumbent on all who aspire to a modicum of pecuniary decency.

So much of the honourable life of leisure as is not spent in the
sight of spectators can serve the purposes of reputability only
in so far as it leaves a tangible, visible result that can be put
in evidence and can be measured and compared with products of the
same class exhibited by competing aspirants for repute. Some such
effect, in the way of leisurely manners and carriage, etc.,
follows from simple persistent abstention from work, even where
the subject does not take thought of the matter and
studiously acquire an air of leisurely opulence and mastery.
Especially does it seem to be true that a life of leisure in this
way persisted in through several generations will leave a
persistent, ascertainable effect in the conformation of the
person, and still more in his habitual bearing and demeanour. But
all the suggestions of a cumulative life of leisure, and all the
proficiency in decorum that comes by the way of passive
habituation, may be further improved upon by taking thought and
assiduously acquiring the marks of honourable leisure, and then
carrying the exhibition of these adventitious marks of exemption
from employment out in a strenuous and systematic discipline.
Plainly, this is a point at which a diligent application of
effort and expenditure may materially further the attainment of a
decent proficiency in the leisure-class properties. Conversely,
the greater the degree of proficiency and the more patent the
evidence of a high degree of habituation to observances which
serve no lucrative or other directly useful purpose, the greater
the consumption of time and substance impliedly involved in their
acquisition, and the greater the resultant good repute. Hence
under the competitive struggle for proficiency in good manners,
it comes about that much pains in taken with the cultivation of
habits of decorum; and hence the details of decorum develop into
a comprehensive discipline, conformity to which is required of
all who would be held blameless in point of repute. And hence, on
the other hand, this conspicuous leisure of which decorum is a
ramification grows gradually into a laborious drill in deportment
and an education in taste and discrimination as to what articles
of consumption are decorous and what are the decorous methods of
consuming them.

In this connection it is worthy of notice that the
possibility of producing pathological and other idiosyncrasies of
person and manner by shrewd mimicry and a systematic drill have
been turned to account in the deliberate production of a cultured
class -- often with a very happy effect. In this way, by the
process vulgarly known as snobbery, a syncopated evolution of
gentle birth and breeding is achieved in the case of a goodly
number of families and lines of descent. This syncopated gentle
birth gives results which, in point of serviceability as a
leisure-class factor in the population, are in no wise
substantially inferior to others who may have had a longer but
less arduous training in the pecuniary properties.

There are, moreover, measureable degrees of conformity to the
latest accredited code of the punctilios as regards decorous
means and methods of consumption. Differences between one person
and another in the degree of conformity to the ideal in these
respects can be compared, and persons may be graded and scheduled
with some accuracy and effect according to a progressive scale of
manners and breeding. The award of reputability in this regard is
commonly made in good faith, on the ground of conformity to
accepted canons of taste in the matters concerned, and without
conscious regard to the pecuniary standing or the degree of
leisure practised by any given candidate for reputability; but
the canons of taste according to which the award is made are
constantly under the surveillance of the law of conspicuous
leisure, and are indeed constantly undergoing change and revision
to bring them into closer conformity with its requirements. So
that while the proximate ground of discrimination may be of
another kind, still the pervading principle and abiding test of
good breeding is the requirement of a substantial and patent
waste of time. There may be some considerable range of variation
in detail within the scope of this principle, but they are
variations of form and expression, not of substance.

Much of the courtesy of everyday intercourse is of course a
direct expression of consideration and kindly good-will, and this
element of conduct has for the most part no need of being traced
back to any underlying ground of reputability to explain either
its presence or the approval with which it is regarded; but the
same is not true of the code of properties. These latter are
expressions of status. It is of course sufficiently plain, to any
one who cares to see, that our bearing towards menials and other
pecuniary dependent inferiors is the bearing of the superior
member in a relation of status, though its manifestation is often
greatly modified and softened from the original expression of
crude dominance. Similarly, our bearing towards superiors, and in
great measure towards equals, expresses a more or less
conventionalised attitude of subservience. Witness the masterful
presence of the high-minded gentleman or lady, which testifies to
so much of dominance and independence of economic circumstances,
and which at the same time appeals with such convincing force to
our sense of what is right and gracious. It is among this highest
leisure class, who have no superiors and few peers, that decorum
finds its fullest and maturest expression; and it is this highest
class also that gives decorum that definite formulation which
serves as a canon of conduct for the classes beneath. And there
also the code is most obviously a code of status and shows most
plainly its incompatibility with all vulgarly productive work. A
divine assurance and an imperious complaisance, as of one
habituated to require subservience and to take no thought for the
morrow, is the birthright and the criterion of the gentleman at
his best; and it is in popular apprehension even more than that,
for this demeanour is accepted as an intrinsic attribute of
superior worth, before which the base-born commoner delights to
stoop and yield.

As has been indicated in an earlier chapter, there is reason to
believe that the institution of ownership has begun with the
ownership of persons, primarily women. The incentives to
acquiring such property have apparently been: (1) a propensity
for dominance and coercion; (2) the utility of these persons as
evidence of the prowess of the owner; (3) the utility of their
services.

Personal service holds a peculiar place in the economic
development. During the stage of quasi-peaceable industry, and
especially during the earlier development of industry within the
limits of this general stage, the utility of their services seems
commonly to be the dominant motive to the acquisition of property
in persons. Servants are valued for their services. But the
dominance of this motive is not due to a decline in the absolute
importance of the other two utilities possessed by servants. It
is rather that the altered circumstance of life accentuate the
utility of servants for this last-named purpose. Women and other
slaves are highly valued, both as an evidence of wealth and as a
means of accumulating wealth. Together with cattle, if the tribe
is a pastoral one, they are the usual form of investment for a
profit. To such an extent may female slavery give its character
to the economic life under the quasi-peaceable culture that the
women even comes to serve as a unit of value among peoples
occupying this cultural stage -- as for instance in Homeric
times. Where this is the case there need be little question but
that the basis of the industrial system is chattel slavery and
that the women are commonly slaves. The great, pervading human
relation in such a system is that of master and servant. The
accepted evidence of wealth is the possession of many women, and
presently also of other slaves engaged in attendance on their
master's person and in producing goods for him.

A division of labour presently sets in, whereby personal service
and attendance on the master becomes the special office of a
portion of the servants, while those who are wholly employed in
industrial occupations proper are removed more and more from all
immediate relation to the person of their owner. At the same time
those servants whose office is personal service, including
domestic duties, come gradually to be exempted from productive
industry carried on for gain.

This process of progressive exemption from the common run of
industrial employment will commonly begin with the exemption of
the wife, or the chief wife. After the community has advanced to
settled habits of life, wife-capture from hostile tribes becomes
impracticable as a customary source of supply. Where this
cultural advance has been achieved, the chief wife is ordinarily
of gentle blood, and the fact of her being so will hasten her
exemption from vulgar employment. The manner in which the concept
of gentle blood originates, as well as the place which it
occupies in the development of marriage, cannot be discussed in
this place. For the purpose in hand it will be sufficient to say
that gentle blood is blood which has been ennobled by protracted
contact with accumulated wealth or unbroken prerogative. The
women with these antecedents is preferred in marriage, both for
the sake of a resulting alliance with her powerful relatives and
because a superior worth is felt to inhere in blood which has
been associated with many goods and great power. She will still
be her husband's chattel, as she was her father's chattel before
her purchase, but she is at the same time of her father's gentle
blood; and hence there is a moral incongruity in her occupying
herself with the debasing employments of her fellow-servants.
However completely she may be subject to her master, and however
inferior to the male members of the social stratum in which her
birth has placed her, the principle that gentility is
transmissible will act to place her above the common slave; and
so soon as this principle has acquired a prescriptive authority
it will act to invest her in some measure with that prerogative
of leisure which is the chief mark of gentility. Furthered by
this principle of transmissible gentility the wife's exemption
gains in scope, if the wealth of her owner permits it, until it
includes exemption from debasing menial service as well as from
handicraft. As the industrial development goes on and property
becomes massed in relatively fewer hands, the conventional
standard of wealth of the upper class rises. The same tendency to
exemption from handicraft, and in the course of time from menial
domestic employments, will then assert itself as regards the
other wives, if such there are, and also as regards other
servants in immediate attendance upon the person of their master.
The exemption comes more tardily the remoter the relation in
which the servant stands to the person of the master.

If the pecuniary situation of the master permits it, the
development of a special class of personal or body servants is
also furthered by the very grave importance which comes to attach
to this personal service. The master's person, being the
embodiment of worth and honour, is of the most serious
consequence. Both for his reputable standing in the community and
for his self-respect, it is a matter of moment that he should
have at his call efficient specialised servants, whose attendance
upon his person is not diverted from this their chief office by
any by-occupation. These specialised servants are useful more for
show than for service actually performed. In so far as they are
not kept for exhibition simply, they afford gratification to
their master chiefly in allowing scope to his propensity for
dominance. It is true, the care of the continually increasing
household apparatus may require added labour; but since the
apparatus is commonly increased in order to serve as a means of
good repute rather than as a means of comfort, this qualification
is not of great weight. All these lines of utility are better
served by a larger number of more highly specialised servants.
There results, therefore, a constantly increasing differentiation
and multiplication of domestic and body servants, along with a
concomitant progressive exemption of such servants from
productive labour. By virtue of their serving as evidence of
ability to pay, the office of such domestics regularly tends to
include continually fewer duties, and their service tends in the
end to become nominal only. This is especially true of those
servants who are in most immediate and obvious attendance upon
their master. So that the utility of these comes to consist, in
great part, in their conspicuous exemption from productive labour
and in the evidence which this exemption affords of their
master's wealth and power.

After some considerable advance has been made in the practice of
employing a special corps of servants for the performance of a
conspicuous leisure in this manner, men begin to be preferred
above women for services that bring them obtrusively into view.
Men, especially lusty, personable fellows, such as footmen and
other menials should be, are obviously more powerful and more
expensive than women. They are better fitted for this work, as
showing a larger waste of time and of human energy. Hence it
comes about that in the economy of the leisure class the busy
housewife of the early patriarchal days, with her retinue of
hard-working handmaidens, presently gives place to the lady and
the lackey.

In all grades and walks of life, and at any stage of the economic
development, the leisure of the lady and of the lackey differs
from the leisure of the gentleman in his own right in that it is
an occupation of an ostensibly laborious kind. It takes the form,
in large measure, of a painstaking attention to the service of
the master, or to the maintenance and elaboration of the
household paraphernalia; so that it is leisure only in the sense
that little or no productive work is performed by this class, not
in the sense that all appearance of labour is avoided by them.
The duties performed by the lady, or by the household or domestic
servants, are frequently arduous enough, and they are also
frequently directed to ends which are considered extremely
necessary to the comfort of the entire household. So far as these
services conduce to the physical efficiency or comfort of the
master or the rest of the household, they are to be accounted
productive work. Only the residue of employment left after
deduction of this effective work is to be classed as a
performance of leisure.

But much of the services classed as household cares in modern
everyday life, and many of the "utilities" required for a
comfortable existence by civilised man, are of a ceremonial
character. They are, therefore, properly to be classed as a
performance of leisure in the sense in which the term is here
used. They may be none the less imperatively necessary from the
point of view of decent existence: they may be none the less
requisite for personal comfort even, although they may be chiefly
or wholly of a ceremonial character. But in so far as they
partake of this character they are imperative and requisite
because we have been taught to require them under pain of
ceremonial uncleanness or unworthiness. We feel discomfort in
their absence, but not because their absence results directly in
physical discomfort; nor would a taste not trained to
discriminate between the conventionally good and the
conventionally bad take offence at their omission. In so far as
this is true the labour spent in these services is to be classed
as leisure; and when performed by others than the economically
free and self-directed head of the establishment, they are to be
classed as vicarious leisure.

The vicarious leisure performed by housewives and menials, under
the head of household cares, may frequently develop into
drudgery, especially where the competition for reputability is
close and strenuous. This is frequently the case in modern life.
Where this happens, the domestic service which comprises the
duties of this servant class might aptly be designated as wasted
effort, rather than as vicarious leisure. But the latter term has
the advantage of indicating the line of derivation of these
domestic offices, as well as of neatly suggesting the substantial
economic ground of their utility; for these occupations are
chiefly useful as a method of imputing pecuniary reputability to
the master or to the household on the ground that a given amount
of time and effort is conspicuously wasted in that behalf.

In this way, then, there arises a subsidiary or derivative
leisure class, whose office is the performance of a vicarious
leisure for the behoof of the reputability of the primary or
legitimate leisure class. This vicarious leisure class is
distinguished from the leisure class proper by a characteristic
feature of its habitual mode of life. The leisure of the master
class is, at least ostensibly, an indulgence of a proclivity for
the avoidance of labour and is presumed to enhance the master's
own well-being and fulness of life; but the leisure of the
servant class exempt from productive labour is in some sort a
performance exacted from them, and is not normally or primarily
directed to their own comfort. The leisure of the servant is not
his own leisure. So far as he is a servant in the full sense, and
not at the same time a member of a lower order of the leisure
class proper, his leisure normally passes under the guise of
specialised service directed to the furtherance of his master's
fulness of life. Evidence of this relation of subservience is
obviously present in the servant's carriage and manner of life.
The like is often true of the wife throughout the protracted
economic stage during which she is still primarily a servant --
that is to say, so long as the household with a male head remains
in force. In order to satisfy the requirements of the leisure
class scheme of life, the servant should show not only an
attitude of subservience, but also the effects of special
training and practice in subservience. The servant or wife should
not only perform certain offices and show a servile disposition,
but it is quite as imperative that they should show an acquired
facility in the tactics of subservience -- a trained conformity
to the canons of effectual and conspicuous subservience. Even
today it is this aptitude and acquired skill in the formal
manifestation of the servile relation that constitutes the chief
element of utility in our highly paid servants, as well as one of
the chief ornaments of the well-bred housewife.

The first requisite of a good servant is that he should
conspicuously know his place. It is not enough that he knows how
to effect certain desired mechanical results; he must above all,
know how to effect these results in due form. Domestic service
might be said to be a spiritual rather than a mechanical
function. Gradually there grows up an elaborate system of good
form, specifically regulating the manner in which this vicarious
leisure of the servant class is to be performed. Any departure
from these canons of form is to be depreciated, not so much
because it evinces a shortcoming in mechanical efficiency, or
even that it shows an absence of the servile attitude and
temperament, but because, in the last analysis, it shows the
absence of special training. Special training in personal service
costs time and effort, and where it is obviously present in a
high degree, it argues that the servant who possesses it, neither
is nor has been habitually engaged in any productive occupation.
It is prima facie evidence of a vicarious leisure extending far
back in the past. So that trained service has utility, not only
as gratifying the master's instinctive liking for good and
skilful workmanship and his propensity for conspicuous dominance
over those whose lives are subservient to his own, but it has
utility also as putting in evidence a much larger consumption of
human service than would be shown by the mere present conspicuous
leisure performed by an untrained person. It is a serious
grievance if a gentleman's butler or footman performs his duties
about his master's table or carriage in such unformed style as to
suggest that his habitual occupation may be ploughing or
sheepherding. Such bungling work would imply inability on the
master's part to procure the service of specially trained
servants; that is to say, it would imply inability to pay for the
consumption of time, effort, and instruction required to fit a
trained servant for special service under the exacting code of
forms. If the performance of the servant argues lack of means on
the part of his master, it defeats its chief substantial end; for
the chief use of servants is the evidence they afford of the
master's ability to pay.

What has just been said might be taken to imply that the offence
of an under-trained servant lies in a direct suggestion of
inexpensiveness or of usefulness. Such, of course, is not the
case. The connection is much less immediate. What happens here is
what happens generally. Whatever approves itself to us on any
ground at the outset, presently comes to appeal to us as a
gratifying thing in itself; it comes to rest in our habits of
though as substantially right. But in order that any specific
canon of deportment shall maintain itself in favour, it must
continue to have the support of, or at least not be incompatible
with, the habit or aptitude which constitutes the norm of its
development. The need of vicarious leisure, or conspicuous
consumption of service, is a dominant incentive to the keeping of
servants. So long as this remains true it may be set down without
much discussion that any such departure from accepted usage as
would suggest an abridged apprenticeship in service would
presently be found insufferable. The requirement of an expensive
vicarious leisure acts indirectly, selectively, by guiding the
formation of our taste, -- of our sense of what is right in these
matters, -- and so weeds out unconformable departures by
withholding approval of them.

As the standard of wealth recognized by common consent advances,
the possession and exploitation of servants as a means of showing
superfluity undergoes a refinement. The possession and
maintenance of slaves employed in the production of goods argues
wealth and prowess, but the maintenance of servants who produce
nothing argues still higher wealth and position. Under this
principle there arises a class of servants, the more numerous the
better, whose sole office is fatuously to wait upon the person of
their owner, and so to put in evidence his ability unproductively
to consume a large amount of service. There supervenes a division
of labour among the servants or dependents whose life is spent in
maintaining the honour of the gentleman of leisure. So that,
while one group produces goods for him, another group, usually
headed by the wife, or chief, consumes for him in conspicuous
leisure; thereby putting in evidence his ability to sustain large
pecuniary damage without impairing his superior opulence.

This somewhat idealized and diagrammatic outline of the
development and nature of domestic service comes nearest being
true for that cultural stage which was here been named the
"quasi-peaceable" stage of industry. At this stage personal
service first rises to the position of an economic institution,
and it is at this stage that it occupies the largest place in the
community's scheme of life. In the cultural sequence, the
quasi-peaceable stage follows the predatory stage proper, the two
being successive phases of barbarian life. Its characteristic
feature is a formal observance of peace and order, at the same
time that life at this stage still has too much of coercion and
class antagonism to be called peaceable in the full sense of the
word. For many purposes, and from another point of view than the
economic one, it might as well be named the stage of status. The
method of human relation during this stage, and the spiritual
attitude of men at this level of culture, is well summed up under
the term. But as a descriptive term to characterise the
prevailing methods of industry, as well as to indicate the trend
of industrial development at this point in economic evolution,
the term "quasi-peaceable" seems preferable. So far as concerns
the communities of the Western culture, this phase of economic
development probably lies in the past; except for a numerically
small though very conspicuous fraction of the community in whom
the habits of thought peculiar to the barbarian culture have
suffered but a relatively slight disintegration.

Personal service is still an element of great economic
importance, especially as regards the distribution and
consumption of goods; but its relative importance even in this
direction is no doubt less than it once was. The best development
of this vicarious leisure lies in the past rather than in the
present; and its best expression in the present is to be found in
the scheme of life of the upper leisure class. To this class the
modern culture owes much in the way of the conservation of
traditions, usages, and habits of thought which belong on a more
archaic cultural plane, so far as regards their widest acceptance
and their most effective development.

In the modern industrial communities the mechanical
contrivances available for the comfort and convenience of
everyday life are highly developed. So much so that body
servants, or, indeed, domestic servants of any kind, would now
scarcely be employed by anybody except on the ground of a canon
of reputability carried over by tradition from earlier usage. The
only exception would be servants employed to attend on the
persons of the infirm and the feeble-minded. But such servants
properly come under the head of trained nurses rather than under
that of domestic servants, and they are, therefore, an apparent
rather than a real exception to the rule.

The proximate reason for keeping domestic servants, for instance,
in the moderately well-to-do household of to-day, is (ostensibly)
that the members of the household are unable without discomfort
to compass the work required by such a modern
establishment. And the reason for their being unable to
accomplish it is (1) that they have too many "social duties", and
(2) that the work to be done is too severe and that there is too
much of it. These two reasons may be restated as follows: (1)
Under the mandatory code of decency, the time and effort of the
members of such a household are required to be ostensibly all
spent in a performance of conspicuous leisure, in the way of
calls, drives, clubs, sewing-circles, sports, charity
organisations, and other like social functions. Those persons
whose time and energy are employed in these matters privately
avow that all these observances, as well as the incidental
attention to dress and other conspicuous consumption, are very
irksome but altogether unavoidable. (2) Under the requirement of
conspicuous consumption of goods, the apparatus of living has
grown so elaborate and cumbrous, in the way of dwellings,
furniture, bric-a-brac, wardrobe and meals, that the consumers of
these things cannot make way with them in the required manner
without help. Personal contact with the hired persons whose aid
is called in to fulfil the routine of decency is commonly
distasteful to the occupants of the house, but their presence is
endured and paid for, in order to delegate to them a share in
this onerous consumption of household goods. The presence of
domestic servants, and of the special class of body servants in
an eminent degree, is a concession of physical comfort to the
moral need of pecuniary decency.

The largest manifestation of vicarious leisure in modern life is
made up of what are called domestic duties. These duties are fast
becoming a species of services performed, not so much for the
individual behoof of the head of the household as for the
reputability of the household taken as a corporate unit -- a
group of which the housewife is a member on a footing of
ostensible equality. As fast as the household for which they are
performed departs from its archaic basis of ownership-marriage,
these household duties of course tend to fall out of the category
of vicarious leisure in the original sense; except so far as they
are performed by hired servants. That is to say, since vicarious
leisure is possible only on a basis of status or of hired
service, the disappearance of the relation of status from human
intercourse at any point carries with it the disappearance of
vicarious leisure so far as regards that much of life. But it is
to be added, in qualification of this qualification, that so long
as the household subsists, even with a divided head, this class
of non-productive labour performed for the sake of the household
reputability must still be classed as vicarious leisure, although
in a slightly altered sense. It is now leisure performed for the
quasi-personal corporate household, instead of, as formerly, for
the proprietary head of the household.




Chapter Four

Conspicuous Consumption

In what has been said of the evolution of the vicarious leisure
class and its differentiation from the general body of the
working classes, reference has been made to a further
division of labour, -- that between the different servant
classes. One portion of the servant class, chiefly those persons
whose occupation is vicarious leisure, come to undertake a new,
subsidiary range of duties -- the vicarious consumption of goods.
The most obvious form in which this consumption occurs is seen in
the wearing of liveries and the occupation of spacious servants'
quarters. Another, scarcely less obtrusive or less effective form
of vicarious consumption, and a much more widely prevalent one,
is the consumption of food, clothing, dwelling, and furniture by
the lady and the rest of the domestic establishment.

But already at a point in economic evolution far antedating the
emergence of the lady, specialised consumption of goods as an
evidence of pecuniary strength had begun to work out in a more or
less elaborate system. The beginning of a differentiation in
consumption even antedates the appearance of anything that can
fairly be called pecuniary strength. It is traceable back to the
initial phase of predatory culture, and there is even a
suggestion that an incipient differentiation in this respect lies
back of the beginnings of the predatory life. This most primitive
differentiation in the consumption of goods is like the later
differentiation with which we are all so intimately familiar, in
that it is largely of a ceremonial character, but unlike the
latter it does not rest on a difference in accumulated wealth.
The utility of consumption as an evidence of wealth is to be
classed as a derivative growth. It is an adaption to a new end,
by a selective process, of a distinction previously existing and
well established in men's habits of thought.

In the earlier phases of the predatory culture the only economic
differentiation is a broad distinction between an honourable
superior class made up of the able-bodied men on the one side,
and a base inferior class of labouring women on the other.
According to the ideal scheme of life in force at the time it is
the office of the men to consume what the women produce. Such
consumption as falls to the women is merely incidental to their
work; it is a means to their continued labour, and not a
consumption directed to their own comfort and fulness of life.
Unproductive consumption of goods is honourable, primarily as a
mark of prowess and a perquisite of human dignity; secondarily it
becomes substantially honourable to itself, especially the
consumption of the more desirable things. The consumption of
choice articles of food, and frequently also of rare articles of
adornment, becomes tabu to the women and children; and if there
is a base (servile) class of men, the tabu holds also for them.
With a further advance in culture this tabu may change into
simple custom of a more or less rigorous character; but whatever
be the theoretical basis of the distinction which is maintained,
whether it be a tabu or a larger conventionality, the features of
the conventional scheme of consumption do not change easily. When
the quasi-peaceable stage of industry is reached, with its
fundamental institution of chattel slavery, the general
principle, more or less rigorously applied, is that the base,
industrious class should consume only what may be necessary to
their subsistence. In the nature of things, luxuries and the
comforts of life belong to the leisure class. Under the tabu,
certain victuals, and more particularly certain beverages, are
strictly reserved for the use of the superior class.

The ceremonial differentiation of the dietary is best seen in the
use of intoxicating beverages and narcotics. If these articles of
consumption are costly, they are felt to be noble and honorific.
Therefore the base classes, primarily the women, practice an
enforced continence with respect to these stimulants, except in
countries where they are obtainable at a very low cost. From
archaic times down through all the length of the patriarchal
regime it has been the office of the women to prepare and
administer these luxuries, and it has been the perquisite of the
men of gentle birth and breeding to consume them. Drunkenness and
the other pathological consequences of the free use of stimulants
therefore tend in their turn to become honorific, as being a
mark, at the second remove, of the superior status of those who
are able to afford the indulgence. Infirmities induced by
over-indulgence are among some peoples freely recognised as manly
attributes. It has even happened that the name for certain
diseased conditions of the body arising from such an origin has
passed into everyday speech as a synonym for "noble" or "gentle".
It is only at a relatively early stage of culture that the
symptoms of expensive vice are conventionally accepted as marks
of a superior status, and so tend to become virtues and command
the deference of the community; but the reputability that
attaches to certain expensive vices long retains so much of its
force as to appreciably lesson the disapprobation visited upon
the men of the wealthy or noble class for any excessive
indulgence. The same invidious distinction adds force to the
current disapproval of any indulgence of this kind on the part of
women, minors, and inferiors. This invidious traditional
distinction has not lost its force even among the more advanced
peoples of today. Where the example set by the leisure class
retains its imperative force in the regulation of the
conventionalities, it is observable that the women still in great
measure practise the same traditional continence with regard to
stimulants.

This characterisation of the greater continence in the use of
stimulants practised by the women of the reputable classes may
seem an excessive refinement of logic at the expense of common
sense. But facts within easy reach of any one who cares to know
them go to say that the greater abstinence of women is in some
part due to an imperative conventionality; and this
conventionality is, in a general way, strongest where the
patriarchal tradition -- the tradition that the woman is a
chattel -- has retained its hold in greatest vigour. In a sense
which has been greatly qualified in scope and rigour, but which
has by no means lost its meaning even yet, this tradition says
that the woman, being a chattel, should consume only what is
necessary to her sustenance, -- except so far as her further
consumption contributes to the comfort or the good repute of her
master. The consumption of luxuries, in the true sense, is a
consumption directed to the comfort of the consumer himself, and
is, therefore, a mark of the master. Any such consumption by
others can take place only on a basis of sufferance. In
communities where the popular habits of thought have been
profoundly shaped by the patriarchal tradition we may
accordingly look for survivals of the tabu on luxuries at least
to the extent of a conventional deprecation of their use by the
unfree and dependent class. This is more particularly true as
regards certain luxuries, the use of which by the dependent class
would detract sensibly from the comfort or pleasure of their
masters, or which are held to be of doubtful legitimacy on other
grounds. In the apprehension of the great conservative middle
class of Western civilisation the use of these various stimulants
is obnoxious to at least one, if not both, of these objections;
and it is a fact too significant to be passed over that it is
precisely among these middle classes of the Germanic culture,
with their strong surviving sense of the patriarchal proprieties,
that the women are to the greatest extent subject to a qualified
tabu on narcotics and alcoholic beverages. With many
qualifications -- with more qualifications as the patriarchal
tradition has gradually weakened -- the general rule is felt to
be right and binding that women should consume only for the
benefit of their masters. The objection of course presents itself
that expenditure on women's dress and household paraphernalia is
an obvious exception to this rule; but it will appear in the
sequel that this exception is much more obvious than substantial.
During the earlier stages of economic development,
consumption of goods without stint, especially consumption of the
better grades of goods, -- ideally all consumption in excess of
the subsistence minimum, -- pertains normally to the leisure
class. This restriction tends to disappear, at least formally,
after the later peaceable stage has been reached, with private
ownership of goods and an industrial system based on wage labour
or on the petty household economy. But during the earlier
quasi-peaceable stage, when so many of the traditions through
which the institution of a leisure class has affected the
economic life of later times were taking form and consistency,
this principle has had the force of a conventional law. It has
served as the norm to which consumption has tended to conform,
and any appreciable departure from it is to be regarded as an
aberrant form, sure to be eliminated sooner or later in the
further course of development.

The quasi-peaceable gentleman of leisure, then, not only consumes
of the staff of life beyond the minimum required for subsistence
and physical efficiency, but his consumption also undergoes a
specialisation as regards the quality of the goods consumed. He
consumes freely and of the best, in food, drink, narcotics,
shelter, services, ornaments, apparel, weapons and accoutrements,
amusements, amulets, and idols or divinities. In the process of
gradual amelioration which takes place in the articles of his
consumption, the motive principle and proximate aim of innovation
is no doubt the higher efficiency of the improved and more
elaborate products for personal comfort and well-being. But that
does not remain the sole purpose of their consumption. The canon
of reputability is at hand and seizes upon such innovations as
are, according to its standard, fit to survive. Since the
consumption of these more excellent goods is an evidence of
wealth, it becomes honorific; and conversely, the failure to
consume in due quantity and quality becomes a mark of inferiority
and demerit.

This growth of punctilious discrimination as to qualitative
excellence in eating, drinking, etc. presently affects not only
the manner of life, but also the training and intellectual
activity of the gentleman of leisure. He is no longer simply the
successful, aggressive male, -- the man of strength, resource,
and intrepidity. In order to avoid stultification he must also
cultivate his tastes, for it now becomes incumbent on him to
discriminate with some nicety between the noble and the ignoble
in consumable goods. He becomes a connoisseur in creditable
viands of various degrees of merit, in manly beverages and
trinkets, in seemly apparel and architecture, in weapons, games,
dancers, and the narcotics. This cultivation of aesthetic faculty
requires time and application, and the demands made upon the
gentleman in this direction therefore tend to change his life of
leisure into a more or less arduous application to the business
of learning how to live a life of ostensible leisure in a
becoming way. Closely related to the requirement that the
gentleman must consume freely and of the right kind of goods,
there is the requirement that he must know how to consume them in
a seemly manner. His life of leisure must be conducted in due
form. Hence arise good manners in the way pointed out in an
earlier chapter. High-bred manners and ways of living are items
of conformity to the norm of conspicuous leisure and conspicuous
consumption.

Conspicuous consumption of valuable goods is a means of
reputability to the gentleman of leisure. As wealth accumulates
on his hands, his own unaided effort will not avail to
sufficiently put his opulence in evidence by this method. The aid
of friends and competitors is therefore brought in by resorting
to the giving of valuable presents and expensive feasts and
entertainments. Presents and feasts had probably another origin
than that of naive ostentation, but they required their utility
for this purpose very early, and they have retained that
character to the present; so that their utility in this respect
has now long been the substantial ground on which these usages
rest. Costly entertainments, such as the potlatch or the ball,
are peculiarly adapted to serve this end. The competitor with
whom the entertainer wishes to institute a comparison is, by this
method, made to serve as a means to the end. He consumes
vicariously for his host at the same time that he is witness to
the consumption of that excess of good things which his host is
unable to dispose of single-handed, and he is also made to
witness his host's facility in etiquette.

In the giving of costly entertainments other motives, of more
genial kind, are of course also present. The custom of festive
gatherings probably originated in motives of conviviality and
religion; these motives are also present in the later
development, but they do not continue to be the sole motives. The
latter-day leisure-class festivities and entertainments may
continue in some slight degree to serve the religious need and in
a higher degree the needs of recreation and conviviality, but
they also serve an invidious purpose; and they serve it none the
less effectually for having a colorable non-invidious ground in
these more avowable motives. But the economic effect of these
social amenities is not therefore lessened, either in the
vicarious consumption of goods or in the exhibition of difficult
and costly achievements in etiquette.

As wealth accumulates, the leisure class develops further in
function and structure, and there arises a differentiation within
the class. There is a more or less elaborate system of rank and
grades. This differentiation is furthered by the inheritance of
wealth and the consequent inheritance of gentility. With the
inheritance of gentility goes the inheritance of obligatory
leisure; and gentility of a sufficient potency to entail a life
of leisure may be inherited without the complement of wealth
required to maintain a dignified leisure. Gentle blood may be
transmitted without goods enough to afford a reputably free
consumption at one's ease. Hence results a class of impecunious
gentlemen of leisure, incidentally referred to already. These
half-caste gentlemen of leisure fall into a system of
hierarchical gradations. Those who stand near the higher and the
highest grades of the wealthy leisure class, in point of birth,
or in point of wealth, or both, outrank the remoter-born and the
pecuniarily weaker. These lower grades, especially the
impecunious, or marginal, gentlemen of leisure, affiliate
themselves by a system of dependence or fealty to the great ones;
by so doing they gain an increment of repute, or of the means
with which to lead a life of leisure, from their patron. They
become his courtiers or retainers, servants; and being fed and
countenanced by their patron they are indices of his rank and
vicarious consumer of his superfluous wealth. Many of these
affiliated gentlemen of leisure are at the same time lesser men
of substance in their own right; so that some of them are
scarcely at all, others only partially, to be rated as vicarious
consumers. So many of them, however, as make up the retainer and
hangers-on of the patron may be classed as vicarious consumer
without qualification. Many of these again, and also many of the
other aristocracy of less degree, have in turn attached to their
persons a more or less comprehensive group of vicarious consumer
in the persons of their wives and children, their servants,
retainers, etc.

Throughout this graduated scheme of vicarious leisure and
vicarious consumption the rule holds that these offices must be
performed in some such manner, or under some such circumstance or
insignia, as shall point plainly to the master to whom this
leisure or consumption pertains, and to whom therefore the
resulting increment of good repute of right inures. The
consumption and leisure executed by these persons for their
master or patron represents an investment on his part with a view
to an increase of good fame. As regards feasts and largesses this
is obvious enough, and the imputation of repute to the host or
patron here takes place immediately, on the ground of common
notoriety. Where leisure and consumption is performed
vicariously by henchmen and retainers, imputation of the
resulting repute to the patron is effected by their residing near
his person so that it may be plain to all men from what source
they draw. As the group whose good esteem is to be secured in
this way grows larger, more patent means are required to indicate
the imputation of merit for the leisure performed, and to this
end uniforms, badges, and liveries come into vogue. The wearing
of uniforms or liveries implies a considerable degree of
dependence, and may even be said to be a mark of servitude, real
or ostensible. The wearers of uniforms and liveries may be
roughly divided into two classes-the free and the servile, or the
noble and the ignoble. The services performed by them are
likewise divisible into noble and ignoble. Of course the
distinction is not observed with strict consistency in practice;
the less debasing of the base services and the less honorific of
the noble functions are not infrequently merged in the same
person. But the general distinction is not on that account to be
overlooked. What may add some perplexity is the fact that this
fundamental distinction between noble and ignoble, which rests on
the nature of the ostensible service performed, is traversed by a
secondary distinction into honorific and humiliating, resting on
the rank of the person for whom the service is performed or whose
livery is worn. So, those offices which are by right the proper
employment of the leisure class are noble; such as government,
fighting, hunting, the care of arms and accoutrements, and the
like -- in short, those which may be classed as ostensibly
predatory employments. On the other hand, those employments which
properly fall to the industrious class are ignoble; such as
handicraft or other productive labor, menial services and the
like. But a base service performed for a person of very high
degree may become a very honorific office; as for instance the
office of a Maid of Honor or of a Lady in Waiting to the Queen,
or the King's Master of the Horse or his Keeper of the Hounds.
The two offices last named suggest a principle of some general
bearing. Whenever, as in these cases, the menial service in
question has to do directly with the primary leisure employments
of fighting and hunting, it easily acquires a reflected honorific
character. In this way great honor may come to attach to an
employment which in its own nature belongs to the baser sort.
In the later development of peaceable industry, the usage of
employing an idle corps of uniformed men-at-arms gradually
lapses. Vicarious consumption by dependents bearing the insignia
of their patron or master narrows down to a corps of liveried
menials. In a heightened degree, therefore, the livery comes to
be a badge of servitude, or rather servility. Something of a
honorific character always attached to the livery of the armed
retainer, but this honorific character disappears when the livery
becomes the exclusive badge of the menial. The livery becomes
obnoxious to nearly all who are required to wear it. We are yet
so little removed from a state of effective slavery as still to
be fully sensitive to the sting of any imputation of servility.
This antipathy asserts itself even in the case of the liveries or
uniforms which some corporations prescribe as the distinctive
dress of their employees. In this country the aversion even goes
the length of discrediting -- in a mild and uncertain way --
those government employments, military and civil, which require
the wearing of a livery or uniform.

With the disappearance of servitude, the number of vicarious
consumers attached to any one gentleman tends, on the whole, to
decrease. The like is of course true, and perhaps in a still
higher degree, of the number of dependents who perform vicarious
leisure for him. In a general way, though not wholly nor
consistently, these two groups coincide. The dependent who was
first delegated for these duties was the wife, or the chief wife;
and, as would be expected, in the later development of the
institution, when the number of persons by whom these duties are
customarily performed gradually narrows, the wife remains the
last. In the higher grades of society a large volume of both
these kinds of service is required; and here the wife is of
course still assisted in the work by a more or less numerous
corps of menials. But as we descend the social scale, the point
is presently reached where the duties of vicarious leisure and
consumption devolve upon the wife alone. In the communities of
the Western culture, this point is at present found among the
lower middle class.

And here occurs a curious inversion. It is a fact of common
observance that in this lower middle class there is no pretense
of leisure on the part of the head of the household. Through
force of circumstances it has fallen into disuse. But the
middle-class wife still carries on the business of vicarious
leisure, for the good name of the household and its master. In
descending the social scale in any modern industrial community,
the primary fact-the conspicuous leisure of the master of the
household-disappears at a relatively high point. The head of the
middle-class household has been reduced by economic circumstances
to turn his hand to gaining a livelihood by occupations which
often partake largely of the character of industry, as in the
case of the ordinary business man of today. But the derivative
fact-the vicarious leisure and consumption rendered by the wife,
and the auxiliary vicarious performance of leisure by
menials-remains in vogue as a conventionality which the demands
of reputability will not suffer to be slighted. It is by no means
an uncommon spectacle to find a man applying himself to work with
the utmost assiduity, in order that his wife may in due form
render for him that degree of vicarious leisure which the common
sense of the time demands.

The leisure rendered by the wife in such cases is, of course, not
a simple manifestation of idleness or indolence. It almost
invariably occurs disguised under some form of work or household
duties or social amenities, which prove on analysis to serve
little or no ulterior end beyond showing that she does not occupy
herself with anything that is gainful or that is of substantial
use. As has already been noticed under the head of manners, the
greater part of the customary round of domestic cares to which
the middle-class housewife gives her time and effort is of this
character. Not that the results of her
attention to household matters, of a decorative and mundificatory
character, are not pleasing to the sense of men trained in
middle-class proprieties; but the taste to which these effects of
household adornment and tidiness appeal is a taste which has been
formed under the selective guidance of a canon of propriety that
demands just these evidences of wasted effort. The effects are
pleasing to us chiefly because we have been taught to find them
pleasing. There goes into these domestic duties much solicitude
for a proper combination of form and color, and for other ends
that are to be classed as aesthetic in the proper sense of the
term; and it is not denied that effects having some substantial
aesthetic value are sometimes attained. Pretty much all that is
here insisted on is that, as regards these amenities of life, the
housewife's efforts are under the guidance of traditions that
have been shaped by the law of conspicuously wasteful expenditure
of time and substance. If beauty or comfort is achieved-and it is
a more or less fortuitous circumstance if they are-they must be
achieved by means and methods that commend themselves to the
great economic law of wasted effort. The more reputable,
"presentable" portion of middle-class household paraphernalia
are, on the one hand, items of conspicuous consumption, and on
the other hand, apparatus for putting in evidence the vicarious
leisure rendered by the housewife.

The requirement of vicarious consumption at the hands of the wife
continues in force even at a lower point in the pecuniary scale
than the requirement of vicarious leisure. At a point below which
little if any pretense of wasted effort, in ceremonial cleanness
and the like, is observable, and where there is
assuredly no conscious attempt at ostensible leisure, decency
still requires the wife to consume some goods conspicuously for
the reputability of the household and its head. So that, as the
latter-day outcome of this evolution of an archaic institution,
the wife, who was at the outset the drudge and chattel of the
man, both in fact and in theory -- the producer of goods for him
to consume -- has become the ceremonial consumer of goods which
he produces. But she still quite unmistakably remains his chattel
in theory; for the habitual rendering of vicarious leisure and
consumption is the abiding mark of the unfree servant.

This vicarious consumption practiced by the household of the
middle and lower classes can not be counted as a direct
expression of the leisure-class scheme of life, since the
household of this pecuniary grade does not belong within the
leisure class. It is rather that the leisure-class scheme of life
here comes to an expression at the second remove. The leisure
class stands at the head of the social structure in point of
reputability; and its manner of life and its standards of worth
therefore afford the norm of reputability for the community. The
observance of these standards, in some degree of approximation,
becomes incumbent upon all classes lower in the scale. In modern
civilized communities the lines of demarcation between social
classes have grown vague and transient, and wherever this happens
the norm of reputability imposed by the upper class extends its
coercive influence with but slight hindrance down through the
social structure to the lowest strata. The result is that the
members of each stratum accept as their ideal of decency the
scheme of life in vogue in the next higher stratum, and bend
their energies to live up to that ideal. On pain of forfeiting
their good name and their self-respect in case of failure, they
must conform to the accepted code, at least in appearance.
The basis on which good repute in any highly organized industrial
community ultimately rests is pecuniary strength; and the means
of showing pecuniary strength, and so of gaining or retaining a
good name, are leisure and a conspicuous consumption of goods.
Accordingly, both of these methods are in vogue as far down the
scale as it remains possible; and in the lower strata in which
the two methods are employed, both offices are in great part
delegated to the wife and children of the household. Lower still,
where any degree of leisure, even ostensible, has become
impracticable for the wife, the conspicuous consumption of goods
remains and is carried on by the wife and children. The man of
the household also can do something in this direction, and
indeed, he commonly does; but with a still lower descent into the
levels of indigence -- along the margin of the slums -- the man,
and presently also the children, virtually cease to consume
valuable goods for appearances, and the woman remains virtually
the sole exponent of the household's pecuniary decency. No class
of society, not even the most abjectly poor, forgoes all
customary conspicuous consumption. The last items of this
category of consumption are not given up except under stress of
the direst necessity. Very much of squalor and discomfort will be
endured before the last trinket or the last pretense of pecuniary
decency is put away. There is no class and no country that has
yielded so abjectly before the pressure of physical want as to
deny themselves all gratification of this higher or spiritual
need.

From the foregoing survey of the growth of conspicuous leisure
and consumption, it appears that the utility of both alike for
the purposes of reputability lies in the element of waste that is
common to both. In the one case it is a waste of time and effort,
in the other it is a waste of goods. Both are methods of
demonstrating the possession of wealth, and the two are
conventionally accepted as equivalents. The choice between them
is a question of advertising expediency simply, except so far as
it may be affected by other standards of propriety, springing
from a different source. On grounds of expediency the preference
may be given to the one or the other at different stages of the
economic development. The question is, which of the two methods
will most effectively reach the persons whose
convictions it is desired to affect. Usage has answered this
question in different ways under different circumstances.

So long as the community or social group is small enough and
compact enough to be effectually reached by common notoriety
alone that is to say, so long as the human environment to which
the individual is required to adapt himself in respect of
reputability is comprised within his sphere of personal
acquaintance and neighborhood gossip -- so long the one method is
about as effective as the other. Each will therefore serve about
equally well during the earlier stages of social growth. But when
the differentiation has gone farther and it becomes necessary to
reach a wider human environment, consumption begins to hold over
leisure as an ordinary means of decency. This is especially true
during the later, peaceable economic stage. The means of
communication and the mobility of the population now expose the
individual to the observation of many persons who have no other
means of judging of his reputability than the display of goods
(and perhaps of breeding) which he is able to make while he is
under their direct observation.

The modern organization of industry works in the same direction
also by another line. The exigencies of the modern industrial
system frequently place individuals and households in
juxtaposition between whom there is little contact in any other
sense than that of juxtaposition. One's neighbors, mechanically
speaking, often are socially not one's neighbors, or even
acquaintances; and still their transient good opinion has a high
degree of utility. The only practicable means of impressing one's
pecuniary ability on these unsympathetic observers of one's
everyday life is an unremitting demonstration of ability to pay.
In the modern community there is also a more frequent attendance
at large gatherings of people to whom one's everyday life is
unknown; in such places as churches, theaters, ballrooms, hotels,
parks, shops, and the like. In order to impress these transient
observers, and to retain one's self-complacency under their
observation, the signature of one's pecuniary strength should be
written in characters which he who runs may read. It is evident,
therefore, that the present trend of the development is in the
direction of heightening the utility of conspicuous consumption
as compared with leisure.

It is also noticeable that the serviceability of consumption as a
means of repute, as well as the insistence on it as an element of
decency, is at its best in those portions of the community where
the human contact of the individual is widest and the mobility of
the population is greatest. Conspicuous
consumption claims a relatively larger portion of the income of
the urban than of the rural population, and the claim is also
more imperative. The result is that, in order to keep up a decent
appearance, the former habitually live hand-to-mouth to a greater
extent than the latter. So it comes, for instance, that the
American farmer and his wife and daughters are notoriously less
modish in their dress, as well as less urbane in their manners,
than the city artisan's family with an equal income. It is not
that the city population is by nature much more eager for the
peculiar complacency that comes of a conspicuous consumption, nor
has the rural population less regard for pecuniary decency. But
the provocation to this line of evidence, as well as its
transient effectiveness, is more decided in the city. This method
is therefore more readily resorted to, and in the struggle to
outdo one another the city population push their normal standard
of conspicuous consumption to a higher point, with the result
that a relatively greater expenditure in this direction is
required to indicate a given degree of pecuniary decency in the
city. The requirement of conformity to this higher conventional
standard becomes mandatory. The standard of decency is higher,
class for class, and this requirement of decent appearance must
be lived up to on pain of losing caste.

Consumption becomes a larger element in the standard of living in
the city than in the country. Among the country
population its place is to some extent taken by savings and home
comforts known through the medium of neighborhood gossip
sufficiently to serve the like general purpose of Pecuniary
repute. These home comforts and the leisure indulged in -- where
the indulgence is found -- are of course also in great part to be
classed as items of conspicuous consumption; and much the same is
to be said of the savings. The smaller amount of the savings laid
by by the artisan class is no doubt due, in some measure, to the
fact that in the case of the artisan the savings are a less
effective means of advertisement, relative to the environment in
which he is placed, than are the savings of the people living on
farms and in the small villages. Among the latter, everybody's
affairs, especially everybody's pecuniary status, are known to
everybody else. Considered by itself simply -- taken in the first
degree -- this added provocation to which the artisan and the
urban laboring classes are exposed may not very seriously
decrease the amount of savings; but in its cumulative action,
through raising the standard of decent expenditure, its deterrent
effect on the tendency to save cannot but be very great.

A felicitous illustration of the manner in which this canon of
reputability works out its results is seen in the practice of
dram-drinking, "treating," and smoking in public places, which is
customary among the laborers and handicraftsmen of the towns, and
among the lower middle class of the urban population generally
Journeymen printers may be named as a class among whom this form
of conspicuous consumption has a great vogue, and among whom it
carries with it certain well-marked consequences that are often
deprecated. The peculiar habits of the class in this respect are
commonly set down to some kind of an ill-defined moral deficiency
with which this class is credited, or to a morally deleterious
influence which their occupation is supposed to exert, in some
unascertainable way, upon the men employed in it. The state of
the case for the men who work in the composition and press rooms
of the common run of printing-houses may be summed up as follows.
Skill acquired in any printing-house or any city is easily turned
to account in almost any other house or city; that is to say, the
inertia due to special training is slight. Also, this occupation
requires more than the average of intelligence and general
information, and the men employed in it are therefore ordinarily
more ready than many others to take advantage of any slight
variation in the demand for their labor from one place to
another. The inertia due to the home feeling is consequently also
slight. At the same time the wages in the trade are high enough
to make movement from place to place relatively easy. The result
is a great mobility of the labor employed in printing; perhaps
greater than in any other equally well-defined and considerable
body of workmen. These men are constantly thrown in contact with
new groups of acquaintances, with whom the relations established
are transient or ephemeral, but whose good opinion is valued none
the less for the time being. The human proclivity to ostentation,
reenforced by sentiments of good-fellowship, leads them to spend
freely in those directions which will best serve these needs.
Here as elsewhere prescription seizes upon the custom as soon as
it gains a vogue, and incorporates it in the accredited standard
of decency. The next step is to make this standard of decency the
point of departure for a new move in advance in the same
direction -- for there is no merit in simple spiritless
conformity to a standard of dissipation that is lived up to as a
matter of course by everyone in the trade.

The greater prevalence of dissipation among printers than among
the average of workmen is accordingly attributable, at least in
some measure, to the greater ease of movement and the more
transient character of acquaintance and human contact in this
trade. But the substantial ground of this high requirement in
dissipation is in the last analysis no other than that same
propensity for a manifestation of dominance and pecuniary decency
which makes the French peasant-proprietor parsimonious and
frugal, and induces the American millionaire to found colleges,
hospitals and museums. If the canon of conspicuous consumption
were not offset to a considerable extent by other features of
human nature, alien to it, any saving should logically be
impossible for a population situated as the artisan and laboring
classes of the cities are at present, however high their wages or
their income might be.

But there are other standards of repute and other, more or less
imperative, canons of conduct, besides wealth and its
manifestation, and some of these come in to accentuate or to
qualify the broad, fundamental canon of conspicuous waste. Under
the simple test of effectiveness for advertising, we should
expect to find leisure and the conspicuous consumption of goods
dividing the field of pecuniary emulation pretty evenly between
them at the outset. Leisure might then be expected gradually to
yield ground and tend to obsolescence as the economic development
goes forward, and the community increases in size; while the
conspicuous consumption of goods should gradually gain in
importance, both absolutely and relatively, until it had absorbed
all the available product, leaving nothing over beyond a bare
livelihood. But the actual course of development has been
somewhat different from this ideal scheme. Leisure held the first
place at the start, and came to hold a rank very much above
wasteful consumption of goods, both as a direct exponent of
wealth and as an element in the standard of decency, during the
quasi-peaceable culture. From that point onward, consumption has
gained ground, until, at present, it unquestionably holds the
primacy, though it is still far from absorbing the entire margin
of production above the subsistence minimum.

The early ascendency of leisure as a means of reputability is
traceable to the archaic distinction between noble and ignoble
employments. Leisure is honorable and becomes imperative partly
because it shows exemption from ignoble labor. The archaic
differentiation into noble and ignoble classes is based on an
invidious distinction between employments as honorific or
debasing; and this traditional distinction grows into an
imperative canon of decency during the early quasi-peaceable
stage. Its ascendency is furthered by the fact that leisure is
still fully as effective an evidence of wealth as consumption.
Indeed, so effective is it in the relatively small and stable
human environment to which the individual is exposed at that
cultural stage, that, with the aid of the archaic tradition which
deprecates all productive labor, it gives rise to a large
impecunious leisure class, and it even tends to limit the
production of the community's industry to the subsistence
minimum. This extreme inhibition of industry is avoided because
slave labor, working under a compulsion more vigorous than that
of reputability, is forced to turn out a product in excess of the
subsistence minimum of the working class. The subsequent relative
decline in the use of conspicuous leisure as a basis of repute is
due partly to an increasing relative effectiveness of consumption
as an evidence of wealth; but in part it is traceable to another
force, alien, and in some degree antagonistic, to the usage of
conspicuous waste.

This alien factor is the instinct of workmanship. Other
circumstances permitting, that instinct disposes men to look with
favor upon productive efficiency and on whatever is of human use.
It disposes them to deprecate waste of substance or effort. The
instinct of workmanship is present in all men, and asserts itself
even under very adverse circumstances. So that however wasteful a
given expenditure may be in reality, it must at least have some
colorable excuse in the way of an ostensible purpose. The manner
in which, under special circumstances, the instinct eventuates in
a taste for exploit and an invidious discrimination between noble
and ignoble classes has been indicated in an earlier chapter. In
so far as it comes into conflict with the law of conspicuous
waste, the instinct of workmanship expresses itself not so much
in insistence on substantial usefulness as in an abiding sense of
the odiousness and aesthetic impossibility of what is obviously
futile. Being of the nature of an instinctive affection, its
guidance touches chiefly and immediately the obvious and apparent
violations of its requirements. It is only less promptly and with
less constraining force that it reaches such substantial
violations of its requirements as are appreciated only upon
reflection.

So long as all labor continues to be performed exclusively or
usually by slaves, the baseness of all productive effort is too
constantly and deterrently present in the mind of men to allow
the instinct of workmanship seriously to take effect in the
direction of industrial usefulness; but when the quasi-peaceable
stage (with slavery and status) passes into the peaceable stage
of industry (with wage labor and cash payment) the instinct comes
more effectively into play. It then begins aggressively to shape
men's views of what is meritorious, and asserts itself at least
as an auxiliary canon of self-complacency. All extraneous
considerations apart, those persons (adult) are but a vanishing
minority today who harbor no inclination to the accomplishment of
some end, or who are not impelled of their own motion to shape
some object or fact or relation for human use. The propensity may
in large measure be overborne by the more immediately
constraining incentive to a reputable leisure and an avoidance of
indecorous usefulness, and it may therefore work itself out in
make-believe only; as for instance in "social duties," and in
quasi-artistic or quasi-scholarly accomplishments, in the care
and decoration of the house, in sewing-circle activity or dress
reform, in proficiency at dress, cards, yachting, golf, and
various sports. But the fact that it may under stress of
circumstances eventuate in inanities no more disproves the
presence of the instinct than the reality of the brooding
instinct is disproved by inducing a hen to sit on a nestful of
china eggs.

This latter-day uneasy reaching-out for some form of
purposeful activity that shall at the same time not be
indecorously productive of either individual or collective gain
marks a difference of attitude between the modern leisure class
and that of the quasi-peaceable stage. At the earlier stage, as
was said above, the all-dominating institution of slavery and
status acted resistlessly to discountenance exertion directed to
other than naively predatory ends. It was still possible to find
some habitual employment for the inclination to action in the way
of forcible aggression or repression directed against hostile
groups or against the subject classes within the group; and this
sewed to relieve the pressure and draw off the energy of the
leisure class without a resort to actually useful, or even
ostensibly useful employments. The practice of hunting also sewed
the same purpose in some degree. When the community developed
into a peaceful industrial organization, and when fuller
occupation of the land had reduced the opportunities for the hunt
to an inconsiderable residue, the pressure of energy seeking
purposeful employment was left to find an outlet in some other
direction. The ignominy which attaches to useful effort also
entered upon a less acute phase with the disappearance of
compulsory labor; and the instinct of workmanship then came to
assert itself with more persistence and consistency.

The line of least resistance has changed in some measure, and the
energy which formerly found a vent in predatory activity, now in
part takes the direction of some ostensibly useful end.
Ostensibly purposeless leisure has come to be deprecated,
especially among that large portion of the leisure class whose
plebeian origin acts to set them at variance with the tradition
of the otium cum dignitate. But that canon of reputability which
discountenances all employment that is of the nature of
productive effort is still at hand, and will permit nothing
beyond the most transient vogue to any employment that is
substantially useful or productive. The consequence is that a
change has been wrought in the conspicuous leisure practiced by
the leisure class; not so much in substance as in form. A
reconciliation between the two conflicting requirements is
effected by a resort to make-believe. Many and intricate polite
observances and social duties of a ceremonial nature are
developed; many organizations are founded, with some specious
object of amelioration embodied in their official style and
title; there is much coming and going, and a deal of talk, to the
end that the talkers may not have occasion to reflect on what is
the effectual economic value of their traffic. And along with the
make-believe of purposeful employment, and woven inextricably
into its texture, there is commonly, if not invariably, a more or
less appreciable element of purposeful effort directed to some
serious end.

In the narrower sphere of vicarious leisure a similar change has
gone forward. Instead of simply passing her time in visible
idleness, as in the best days of the patriarchal regime, the
housewife of the advanced peaceable stage applies herself
assiduously to household cares. The salient features of this
development of domestic service have already been indicated.
Throughout the entire evolution of conspicuous expenditure,
whether of goods or of services or human life, runs the obvious
implication that in order to effectually mend the consumer's good
fame it must be an expenditure of superfluities. In order to be
reputable it must be wasteful. No merit would accrue from the
consumption of the bare necessaries of life, except by comparison
with the abjectly poor who fall short even of the subsistence
minimum; and no standard of expenditure could result from such a
comparison, except the most prosaic and unattractive level of
decency. A standard of life would still be possible which should
admit of invidious comparison in other respects than that of
opulence; as, for instance, a comparison in various directions in
the manifestation of moral, physical, intellectual, or aesthetic
force. Comparison in all these directions is in vogue today; and
the comparison made in these respects is commonly so inextricably
bound up with the pecuniary comparison as to be scarcely
distinguishable from the latter. This is especially true as
regards the current rating of expressions of intellectual and
aesthetic force or proficiency' so that we frequently interpret
as aesthetic or intellectual a difference which in substance is
pecuniary only.

The use of the term "waste" is in one respect an unfortunate one.
As used in the speech of everyday life the word carries an
undertone of deprecation. It is here used for want of a better
term that will adequately describe the same range of motives and
of phenomena, and it is not to be taken in an odious sense, as
implying an illegitimate expenditure of human products or of
human life. In the view of economic theory the expenditure in
question is no more and no less legitimate than any other
expenditure. It is here called "waste" because this expenditure
does not serve human life or human well-being on the whole, not
because it is waste or misdirection of effort or expenditure as
viewed from the standpoint of the individual consumer who chooses
it. If he chooses it, that disposes of the question of its
relative utility to him, as compared with other forms of
consumption that would not be deprecated on account of their
wastefulness. Whatever form of expenditure the consumer chooses,
or whatever end he seeks in making his choice, has utility to him
by virtue of his preference. As seen from the point of view of
the individual consumer, the question of wastefulness does not
arise within the scope of economic theory proper. The use of the
word "waste" as a technical term, therefore, implies no
deprecation of the motives or of the ends sought by the consumer
under this canon of conspicuous waste.

But it is, on other grounds, worth noting that the term "waste"
in the language of everyday life implies deprecation of what is
characterized as wasteful. This common-sense implication is
itself an outcropping of the instinct of workmanship. The popular
reprobation of waste goes to say that in order to be at peace
with himself the common man must be able to see in any and all
human effort and human enjoyment an enhancement of life and
well-being on the whole. In order to meet with unqualified
approval, any economic fact must approve itself under the test of
impersonal usefulness -- usefulness as seen from the point of view
of the generically human. Relative or competitive advantage of
one individual in comparison with another does not satisfy the
economic conscience, and therefore competitive expenditure has
not the approval of this conscience.

In strict accuracy nothing should be included under the head of
conspicuous waste but such expenditure as is incurred on the
ground of an invidious pecuniary comparison. But in order to
bring any given item or element in under this head it is not
necessary that it should be recognized as waste in this sense by
the person incurring the expenditure. It frequently happens that
an element of the standard of living which set out with being
primarily wasteful, ends with becoming, in the apprehension of
the consumer, a necessary of life; and it may in this way become
as indispensable as any other item of the consumer's habitual
expenditure. As items which sometimes fall under this head, and
are therefore available as illustrations of the manner in which
this principle applies, may be cited carpets and tapestries,
silver table service, waiter's services, silk hats, starched
linen, many articles of jewelry and of dress. The
indispensability of these things after the habit and the
convention have been formed, however, has little to say in the
classification of expenditures as waste or not waste in the
technical meaning of the word. The test to which all expenditure
must be brought in an attempt to decide that point is the
question whether it serves directly to enhance human life on the
whole-whether it furthers the life process taken impersonally.
For this is the basis of award of the instinct of workmanship,
and that instinct is the court of final appeal in any question of
economic truth or adequacy. It is a question as to the award
rendered by a dispassionate common sense. The question is,
therefore, not whether, under the existing circumstances of
individual habit and social custom, a given expenditure conduces
to the particular consumer's gratification or peace of mind; but
whether, aside from acquired tastes and from the canons of usage
and conventional decency, its result is a net gain in comfort or
in the fullness of life. Customary expenditure must be classed
under the head of waste in so far as the custom on which it rests
is traceable to the habit of making an invidious pecuniary
comparison-in so far as it is conceived that it could not have
become customary and prescriptive without the backing of this
principle of pecuniary reputability or relative economic success.
It is obviously not necessary that a given object of
expenditure should be exclusively wasteful in order to come in
under the category of conspicuous waste. An article may be useful
and wasteful both, and its utility to the consumer may be made up
of use and waste in the most varying proportions. Consumable
goods, and even productive goods, generally show the two elements
in combination, as constituents of their utility; although, in a
general way, the element of waste tends to predominate in
articles of consumption, while the contrary is true of articles
designed for productive use. Even in articles which appear at
first glance to serve for pure ostentation only, it is always
possible to detect the presence of some, at least ostensible,
useful purpose; and on the other hand, even in special machinery
and tools contrived for some particular industrial process, as
well as in the rudest appliances of human industry, the traces of
conspicuous waste, or at least of the habit of ostentation,
usually become evident on a close scrutiny. It would be hazardous
to assert that a useful purpose is ever absent from the utility
of any article or of any service, however obviously its prime
purpose and chief element is conspicuous waste; and it would be
only less hazardous to assert of any primarily useful product
that the element of waste is in no way concerned in its value,
immediately or remotely.




Chapter Five

The Pecuniary Standard of Living

For the great body of the people in any modern community, the
proximate ground of expenditure in excess of what is required for
physical comfort is not a conscious effort to excel in the
expensiveness of their visible consumption, so much as it is a
desire to live up to the conventional standard of decency in the
amount and grade of goods consumed. This desire is not guided by
a rigidly invariable standard, which must be lived up to, and
beyond which there is no incentive to go. The standard is
flexible; and especially it is indefinitely extensible, if only
time is allowed for habituation to any increase in pecuniary
ability and for acquiring facility in the new and larger scale of
expenditure that follows such an increase. It is much more
difficult to recede from a scale of expenditure once adopted than
it is to extend the accustomed scale in response to an accession
of wealth. Many items of customary expenditure prove on analysis
to be almost purely wasteful, and they are therefore honorific
only, but after they have once been incorporated into the scale
of decent consumption, and so have become an integral part of
one's scheme of life, it is quite as hard to give up these as it
is to give up many items that conduce directly to one's physical
comfort, or even that may be necessary to life and health. That
is to say, the conspicuously wasteful honorific expenditure that
confers spiritual well-being may become more indispensable than
much of that expenditure which ministers to the "lower" wants of
physical well-being or sustenance only. It is notoriously just as
difficult to recede from a "high" standard of living as it is to
lower a standard which is already relatively low; although in the
former case the difficulty is a moral one, while in the latter it
may involve a material deduction from the physical comforts of
life.

But while retrogression is difficult, a fresh advance in
conspicuous expenditure is relatively easy; indeed, it takes
place almost as a matter of course. In the rare cases where it
occurs, a failure to increase one's visible consumption when the
means for an increase are at hand is felt in popular apprehension
to call for explanation, and unworthy motives of miserliness are
imputed to those who fall short in this respect. A prompt
response to the stimulus, on the other hand, is accepted as the
normal effect. This suggests that the standard of expenditure
which commonly guides our efforts is not the average, ordinary
expenditure already achieved; it is an ideal of consumption that
lies just beyond our reach, or to reach which requires some
strain. The motive is emulation -- the stimulus of an invidious
comparison which prompts us to outdo those with whom we are in
the habit of classing ourselves. Substantially the same
proposition is expressed in the commonplace remark that each
class envies and emulates the class next above it in the social
scale, while it rarely compares itself with those below or with
those who are considerably in advance. That is to say, in other
words, our standard of decency in expenditure, as in other ends
of emulation, is set by the usage of those next above us in
reputability; until, in this way, especially in any community
where class distinctions are somewhat vague, all canons of
reputability and decency, and all standards of consumption, are
traced back by insensible gradations to the usages and habits of
thought of the highest social and pecuniary class -- the wealthy
leisure class.

It is for this class to determine, in general outline, what
scheme of Life the community shall accept as decent or honorific;
and it is their office by precept and example to set forth this
scheme of social salvation in its highest, ideal form. But the
higher leisure class can exercise this quasi-sacerdotal office
only under certain material limitations. The class cannot at
discretion effect a sudden revolution or reversal of the popular
habits of thought with respect to any of these ceremonial
requirements. It takes time for any change to permeate the mass
and change the habitual attitude of the people; and especially it
takes time to change the habits of those classes that are
socially more remote from the radiant body. The process is slower
where the mobility of the population is less or where the
intervals between the several classes are wider and more abrupt.
But if time be allowed, the scope of the discretion of the
leisure class as regards questions of form and detail in the
community's scheme of life is large; while as regards the
substantial principles of reputability, the changes which it can
effect lie within a narrow margin of tolerance. Its example and
precept carries the force of prescription for all classes below
it; but in working out the precepts which are handed down as
governing the form and method of reputability -- in shaping the
usages and the spiritual attitude of the lower classes -- this
authoritative prescription constantly works under the selective
guidance of the canon of conspicuous waste, tempered in varying
degree by the instinct of workmanship. To those norms is to be
added another broad principle of human nature -- the predatory
animus -- which in point of generality and of psychological
content lies between the two just named. The effect of the latter
in shaping the accepted scheme of life is yet to be discussed.
The canon of reputability, then, must adapt itself to the
economic circumstances, the traditions, and the degree of
spiritual maturity of the particular class whose scheme of life
it is to regulate. It is especially to be noted that however high
its authority and however true to the fundamental requirements of
reputability it may have been at its inception, a specific formal
observance can under no circumstances maintain itself in force if
with the lapse of time or on its transmission to a lower
pecuniary class it is found to run counter to the ultimate ground
of decency among civilized peoples, namely, serviceability for
the purpose of an invidious comparison in pecuniary success.
It is evident that these canons of expenditure have much to say
in determining the standard of living for any community and for
any class. It is no less evident that the standard of living
which prevails at any time or at any given social altitude will
in its turn have much to say as to the forms which honorific
expenditure will take, and as to the degree to which this
"higher" need will dominate a people's consumption. In this
respect the control exerted by the accepted standard of living is
chiefly of a negative character; it acts almost solely to prevent
recession from a scale of conspicuous expenditure that has once
become habitual.

A standard of living is of the nature of habit. It is an habitual
scale and method of responding to given stimuli. The difficulty
in the way of receding from an accustomed standard is the
difficulty of breaking a habit that has once been formed. The
relative facility with which an advance in the standard is made
means that the life process is a process of unfolding activity
and that it will readily unfold in a new direction whenever and
wherever the resistance to self-expression decreases. But when
the habit of expression along such a given line of low resistance
has once been formed, the discharge will seek the accustomed
outlet even after a change has taken place in the environment
whereby the external resistance has appreciably risen. That
heightened facility of expression in a given direction which is
called habit may offset a considerable increase in the resistance
offered by external circumstances to the unfolding of life in the
given direction. As between the various habits, or habitual modes
and directions of expression, which go to make up an individual's
standard of living, there is an appreciable difference in point
of persistence under counteracting circumstances and in point of
the degree of imperativeness with which the discharge seeks a
given direction.

That is to say, in the language of current economic theory, while
men are reluctant to retrench their expenditures in any
direction, they are more reluctant to retrench in some directions
than in others; so that while any accustomed consumption is
reluctantly given up, there are certain lines of consumption
which are given up with relatively extreme reluctance. The
articles or forms of consumption to which the consumer clings
with the greatest tenacity are commonly the so-called necessaries
of life, or the subsistence minimum. The subsistence minimum is
of course not a rigidly determined allowance of goods, definite
and invariable in kind and quantity; but for the purpose in hand
it may be taken to comprise a certain, more or less definite,
aggregate of consumption required for the maintenance of life.
This minimum, it may be assumed, is ordinarily given up last in
case of a progressive retrenchment of expenditure. That is to
say, in a general way, the most ancient and ingrained of the
habits which govern the individual's life -- those habits that
touch his existence as an organism -- are the most persistent and
imperative. Beyond these come the higher wants -- later-formed
habits of the individual or the race -- in a somewhat irregular
and by no means invariable gradation. Some of these higher wants,
as for instance the habitual use of certain stimulants, or the
need of salvation (in the eschatological sense), or of good
repute, may in some cases take precedence of the lower or more
elementary wants. In general, the longer the habituation, the
more unbroken the habit, and the more nearly it coincides with
previous habitual forms of the life process, the more
persistently will the given habit assert itself. The habit will
be stronger if the particular traits of human nature which its
action involves, or the particular aptitudes that find exercise
in it, are traits or aptitudes that are already largely and
profoundly concerned in the life process or that are intimately
bound up with the life history of the particular racial stock.
The varying degrees of ease with which different habits are
formed by different persons, as well as the varying degrees of
reluctance with which different habits are given up, goes to say
that the formation of specific habits is not a matter of length
of habituation simply. Inherited aptitudes and traits of
temperament count for quite as much as length of habituation in
deciding what range of habits will come to dominate any
individual's scheme of life. And the prevalent type of
transmitted aptitudes, or in other words the type of temperament
belonging to the dominant ethnic element in any community, will
go far to decide what will be the scope and form of expression of
the community's habitual life process. How greatly the
transmitted idiosyncrasies of aptitude may count in the way of a
rapid and definitive formation of habit in individuals is
illustrated by the extreme facility with which an all-dominating
habit of alcoholism is sometimes formed; or in the similar
facility and the similarly inevitable formation of a habit of
devout observances in the case of persons gifted with a special
aptitude in that direction. Much the same meaning attaches to
that peculiar facility of habituation to a specific human
environment that is called romantic love.

Men differ in respect of transmitted aptitudes, or in respect of
the relative facility with which they unfold their life activity
in particular directions; and the habits which coincide with or
proceed upon a relatively strong specific aptitude or a
relatively great specific facility of expression become of great
consequence to the man's well-being. The part played by this
element of aptitude in determining the relative tenacity of the
several habits which constitute the standard of living goes to
explain the extreme reluctance with which men give up any
habitual expenditure in the way of conspicuous
consumption. The aptitudes or propensities to which a habit of
this kind is to be referred as its ground are those aptitudes
whose exercise is comprised in emulation; and the propensity for
emulation -- for invidious comparison -- is of ancient growth and
is a pervading trait of human nature. It is easily called into
vigorous activity in any new form, and it asserts itself with
great insistence under any form under which it has once found
habitual expression. When the individual has once formed the
habit of seeking expression in a given line of honorific
expenditure -- when a given set of stimuli have come to be
habitually responded to in activity of a given kind and direction
under the guidance of these alert and deep-reaching propensities
of emulation -- it is with extreme reluctance that such an
habitual expenditure is given up. And on the other hand, whenever
an accession of pecuniary strength puts the individual in a
position to unfold his life process in larger scope and with
additional reach, the ancient propensities of the race will
assert themselves in determining the direction which the new
unfolding of life is to take. And those propensities which are
already actively in the field under some related form of
expression, which are aided by the pointed suggestions afforded
by a current accredited scheme of life, and for the exercise of
which the material means and opportunities are readily available
-- these will especially have much to say in shaping the form and
direction in which the new accession to the individual's
aggregate force will assert itself. That is to say, in concrete
terms, in any community where conspicuous consumption is an
element of the scheme of life, an increase in an individual's
ability to pay is likely to take the form of an expenditure for
some accredited line of conspicuous consumption.

With the exception of the instinct of self-preservation, the
propensity for emulation is probably the strongest and most alert
and persistent of the economic motives proper. In an industrial
community this propensity for emulation expresses itself in
pecuniary emulation; and this, so far as regards the Western
civilized communities of the present, is virtually equivalent to
saying that it expresses itself in some form of conspicuous
waste. The need of conspicuous waste, therefore, stands ready to
absorb any increase in the community's industrial efficiency or
output of goods, after the most elementary physical wants have
been provided for. Where this result does not follow, under
modern conditions, the reason for the discrepancy is commonly to
be sought in a rate of increase in the individual's wealth too
rapid for the habit of expenditure to keep abreast of it; or it
may be that the individual in question defers the conspicuous
consumption of the increment to a later date -- ordinarily with a
view to heightening the spectacular effect of the aggregate
expenditure contemplated. As increased industrial efficiency
makes it possible to procure the means of livelihood with less
labor, the energies of the industrious members of the community
are bent to the compassing of a higher result in conspicuous
expenditure, rather than slackened to a more comfortable pace.
The strain is not lightened as industrial efficiency increases
and makes a lighter strain possible, but the increment of output
is turned to use to meet this want, which is indefinitely
expansible, after the manner commonly imputed in economic theory
to higher or spiritual wants. It is owing chiefly to the presence
of this element in the standard of living that J. S. Mill was
able to say that "hitherto it is questionable if all the
mechanical inventions yet made have lightened the day's toil of
any human being." The accepted standard of expenditure in the
community or in the class to which a person belongs largely
determines what his standard of living will be. It does this
directly by commending itself to his common sense as right and
good, through his habitually contemplating it and assimilating
the scheme of life in which it belongs; but it does so also
indirectly through popular insistence on conformity to the
accepted scale of expenditure as a matter of propriety, under
pain of disesteem and ostracism. To accept and practice the
standard of living which is in vogue is both agreeable and
expedient, commonly to the point of being indispensable to
personal comfort and to success in life. The standard of living
of any class, so far as concerns the element of conspicuous
waste, is commonly as high as the earning capacity of the class
will permit -- with a constant tendency to go higher. The effect
upon the serious activities of men is therefore to direct them
with great singleness of purpose to the largest possible
acquisition of wealth, and to discountenance work that brings no
pecuniary gain. At the same time the effect on consumption is to
concentrate it upon the lines which are most patent to the
observers whose good opinion is sought; while the inclinations
and aptitudes whose exercise does not involve a honorific
expenditure of time or substance tend to fall into abeyance
through disuse.

Through this discrimination in favor of visible consumption it
has come about that the domestic life of most classes is
relatively shabby, as compared with the éclat of that overt
portion of their life that is carried on before the eyes of
observers. As a secondary consequence of the same discrimination,
people habitually screen their private life from observation. So
far as concerns that portion of their consumption that may
without blame be carried on in secret, they withdraw from all
contact with their neighbors, hence the exclusiveness of people,
as regards their domestic life, in most of the industrially
developed communities; and hence, by remoter derivation, the
habit of privacy and reserve that is so large a feature in the
code of proprieties of the better class in all communities. The
low birthrate of the classes upon whom the requirements of
reputable expenditure fall with great urgency is likewise
traceable to the exigencies of a standard of living based on
conspicuous waste. The conspicuous consumption, and the
consequent increased expense, required in the reputable
maintenance of a child is very considerable and acts as a
powerful deterrent. It is probably the most effectual of the
Malthusian prudential checks.

 The effect of this factor of the standard of living, both in the
way of retrenchment in the obscurer elements of consumption that
go to physical comfort and maintenance, and also in the paucity
or absence of children, is perhaps seen at its best among the
classes given to scholarly pursuits. Because of a presumed
superiority and scarcity of the gifts and attainments that
characterize their life, these classes are by convention subsumed
under a higher social grade than their pecuniary grade should
warrant. The scale of decent expenditure in their case is pitched
correspondingly high, and it consequently leaves an exceptionally
narrow margin disposable for the other ends of life. By force of
circumstances, their habitual sense of what is good and right in
these matters, as well as the expectations of the community in
the way of pecuniary decency among the learned, are excessively
high -- as measured by the prevalent degree of opulence and
earning capacity of the class, relatively to the non-scholarly
classes whose social equals they nominally are. In any modern
community where there is no priestly monopoly of these
occupations, the people of scholarly pursuits are unavoidably
thrown into contact with classes that are pecuniarily their
superiors. The high standard of pecuniary decency in force among
these superior classes is transfused among the scholarly classes
with but little mitigation of its rigor; and as a consequence
there is no class of the community that spends a larger
proportion of its substance in conspicuous waste than these.




Chapter Six

Pecuniary Canons of Taste

The caution has already been repeated more than once, that while
the regulating norm of consumption is in large part the
requirement of conspicuous waste, it must not be understood that
the motive on which the consumer acts in any given case is this
principle in its bald, unsophisticated form. Ordinarily his
motive is a wish to conform to established usage, to avoid
unfavorable notice and comment, to live up to the accepted canons
of decency in the kind, amount, and grade of goods consumed, as
well as in the decorous employment of his time and effort. In the
common run of cases this sense of prescriptive usage is present
in the motives of the consumer and exerts a direct constraining
force, especially as regards consumption carried on under the
eyes of observers. But a considerable element of prescriptive
expensiveness is observable also in consumption that does not in
any appreciable degree become known to outsiders -- as, for
instance, articles of underclothing, some articles of food,
kitchen utensils, and other household apparatus designed for
service rather than for evidence. In all such useful articles a
close scrutiny will discover certain features which add to the
cost and enhance the commercial value of the goods in question,
but do not proportionately increase the serviceability of these
articles for the material purposes which alone they ostensibly
are designed to serve.

Under the selective surveillance of the law of conspicuous waste
there grows up a code of accredited canons of consumption, the
effect of which is to hold the consumer up to a standard of
expensiveness and wastefulness in his consumption of goods and in
his employment of time and effort. This growth of prescriptive
usage has an immediate effect upon economic life, but it has also
an indirect and remoter effect upon conduct in other respects as
well. Habits of thought with respect to the expression of life in
any given direction unavoidably affect the habitual view of what
is good and right in life in other directions also. In the
organic complex of habits of thought which make up the substance
of an individual's conscious life the economic interest does not
lie isolated and distinct from all other interests. Something,
for instance, has already been said of its relation to the canons
of reputability.

The principle of conspicuous waste guides the formation of habits
of thought as to what is honest and reputable in life and in
commodities. In so doing, this principle will traverse other
norms of conduct which do not primarily have to do with the code
of pecuniary honor, but which have, directly or incidentally, an
economic significance of some magnitude. So the canon of
honorific waste may, immediately or remotely, influence the sense
of duty, the sense of beauty, the sense of utility, the sense of
devotional or ritualistic fitness, and the scientific sense of
truth.

It is scarcely necessary to go into a discussion here of the
particular points at which, or the particular manner in which,
the canon of honorific expenditure habitually traverses the
canons of moral conduct. The matter is one which has received
large attention and illustration at the hands of those whose
office it is to watch and admonish with respect to any departures
from the accepted code of morals. In modern communities, where
the dominant economic and legal feature of the community's life
is the institution of private property, one of the salient
features of the code of morals is the sacredness of property.
There needs no insistence or illustration to gain assent to the
proposition that the habit of holding private property inviolate
is traversed by the other habit of seeking wealth for the sake of
the good repute to be gained through its conspicuous consumption.
Most offenses against property, especially offenses of an
appreciable magnitude, come under this head. It is also a matter
of common notoriety and byword that in offenses which result in a
large accession of property to the offender he does not
ordinarily incur the extreme penalty or the extreme obloquy with
which his offenses would be visited on the ground of the naive
moral code alone. The thief or swindler who has gained great
wealth by his delinquency has a better chance than the small
thief of escaping the rigorous penalty of the law and some good
repute accrues to him from his increased wealth and from his
spending the irregularly acquired possessions in a seemly manner.
A well-bred expenditure of his booty especially appeals with
great effect to persons of a cultivated sense of the proprieties,
and goes far to mitigate the sense of moral turpitude with which
his dereliction is viewed by them. It may be noted also -- and it
is more immediately to the point -- that we are all inclined to
condone an offense against property in the case of a man whose
motive is the worthy one of providing the means of a "decent"
manner of life for his wife and children. If it is added that the
wife has been "nurtured in the lap of luxury," that is accepted
as an additional extenuating circumstance. That is to say, we are
prone to condone such an offense where its aim is the honorific
one of enabling the offender's wife to perform for him such an
amount of vicarious consumption of time and substance as is
demanded by the standard of pecuniary decency. In such a case the
habit of approving the accustomed degree of conspicuous waste
traverses the habit of deprecating violations of ownership, to
the extent even of sometimes leaving the award of praise or blame
uncertain. This is peculiarly true where the dereliction involves
an appreciable predatory or piratical element.

This topic need scarcely be pursued further here; but the remark
may not be out of place that all that considerable body of morals
that clusters about the concept of an inviolable ownership is
itself a psychological precipitate of the traditional
meritoriousness of wealth. And it should be added that this
wealth which is held sacred is valued primarily for the sake of
the good repute to be got through its conspicuous consumption.
The bearing of pecuniary decency upon the scientific spirit or
the quest of knowledge will be taken up in some detail in a
separate chapter. Also as regards the sense of devout or ritual
merit and adequacy in this connection, little need be said in
this place. That topic will also come up incidentally in a later
chapter. Still, this usage of honorific expenditure has much to
say in shaping popular tastes as to what is right and meritorious
in sacred matters, and the bearing of the principle of
conspicuous waste upon some of the commonplace devout observances
and conceits may therefore be pointed out.

Obviously, the canon of conspicuous waste is accountable for a
great portion of what may be called devout consumption; as, e.g.,
the consumption of sacred edifices, vestments, and other goods of
the same class. Even in those modern cults to whose divinities is
imputed a predilection for temples not built with hands, the
sacred buildings and the other properties of the cult are
constructed and decorated with some view to a reputable degree of
wasteful expenditure. And it needs but little either of
observation or introspection -- and either will serve the turn --
to assure us that the expensive splendor of the house of worship
has an appreciable uplifting and mellowing effect upon the
worshipper's frame of mind. It will serve to enforce the same
fact if we reflect upon the sense of abject shamefulness with
which any evidence of indigence or squalor about the sacred place
affects all beholders. The accessories of any devout observance
should be pecuniarily above reproach. This requirement is
imperative, whatever latitude may be allowed with regard to these
accessories in point of aesthetic or other serviceability.
It may also be in place to notice that in all communities,
especially in neighborhoods where the standard of pecuniary
decency for dwellings is not high, the local sanctuary is more
ornate, more conspicuously wasteful in its architecture and
decoration, than the dwelling houses of the congregation. This is
true of nearly all denominations and cults, whether Christian or
Pagan, but it is true in a peculiar degree of the older and
maturer cults. At the same time the sanctuary commonly
contributes little if anything to the physical comfort of the
members. Indeed, the sacred structure not only serves the
physical well-being of the members to but a slight extent, as
compared with their humbler dwelling-houses; but it is felt by
all men that a right and enlightened sense of the true, the
beautiful, and the good demands that in all expenditure on the
sanctuary anything that might serve the comfort of the worshipper
should be conspicuously absent. If any element of comfort is
admitted in the fittings of the sanctuary, it should be at least
scrupulously screened and masked under an ostensible austerity.
In the most reputable latter-day houses of worship, where no
expense is spared, the principle of austerity is carried to the
length of making the fittings of the place a means of mortifying
the flesh, especially in appearance. There are few persons of
delicate tastes, in the matter of devout consumption to whom this
austerely wasteful discomfort does not appeal as intrinsically
right and good. Devout consumption is of the nature of vicarious
consumption. This canon of devout austerity is based on the
pecuniary reputability of conspicuously wasteful consumption,
backed by the principle that vicarious consumption should
conspicuously not conduce to the comfort of the vicarious
consumer.

The sanctuary and its fittings have something of this austerity
in all the cults in which the saint or divinity to whom the
sanctuary pertains is not conceived to be present and make
personal use of the property for the gratification of luxurious
tastes imputed to him. The character of the sacred paraphernalia
is somewhat different in this respect in those cults where the
habits of life imputed to the divinity more nearly approach those
of an earthly patriarchal potentate -- where he is conceived to
make use of these consumable goods in person. In the latter case
the sanctuary and its fittings take on more of the fashion given
to goods destined for the conspicuous consumption of a temporal
master or owner. On the other hand, where the sacred apparatus is
simply employed in the divinity's service, that is to say, where
it is consumed vicariously on his account by his servants, there
the sacred properties take the character suited to goods that are
destined for vicarious consumption only.

In the latter case the sanctuary and the sacred apparatus are so
contrived as not to enhance the comfort or fullness of life of
the vicarious consumer, or at any rate not to convey the
impression that the end of their consumption is the consumer's
comfort. For the end of vicarious consumption is to enhance, not
the fullness of life of the consumer, but the pecuniary repute of
the master for whose behoof the consumption takes place.
Therefore priestly vestments are notoriously expensive, ornate,
and inconvenient; and in the cults where the priestly servitor of
the divinity is not conceived to serve him in the capacity of
consort, they are of an austere, comfortless fashion. And such it
is felt that they should be.

It is not only in establishing a devout standard of decent
expensiveness that the principle of waste invades the domain of
the canons of ritual serviceability. It touches the ways as well
as the means, and draws on vicarious leisure as well as on
vicarious consumption. Priestly demeanor at its best is aloof,
leisurely, perfunctory, and uncontaminated with suggestions of
sensuous pleasure. This holds true, in different degrees of
course, for the different cults and denominations; but in the
priestly life of all anthropomorphic cults the marks of a
vicarious consumption of time are visible.

The same pervading canon of vicarious leisure is also visibly
present in the exterior details of devout observances and need
only be pointed out in order to become obvious to all beholders.
All ritual has a notable tendency to reduce itself to a rehearsal
of formulas. This development of formula is most noticeable in
the maturer cults, which have at the same time a more austere,
ornate, and severe priestly life and garb; but it is perceptible
also in the forms and methods of worship of the newer and fresher
sects, whose tastes in respect of priests, vestments, and
sanctuaries are less exacting. The rehearsal of the service (the
term "service" carries a suggestion significant for the point in
question) grows more perfunctory as the cult gains in age and
consistency, and this perfunctoriness of the rehearsal is very
pleasing to the correct devout taste. And with a good reason, for
the fact of its being perfunctory goes to say pointedly that the
master for whom it is performed is exalted above the vulgar need
of actually proficuous service on the part of his servants. They
are unprofitable servants, and there is an honorific implication
for their master in their remaining
unprofitable. It is needless to point out the close analogy at
this point between the priestly office and the office of the
footman. It is pleasing to our sense of what is fitting in these
matters, in either case, to recognize in the obvious
perfunctoriness of the service that it is a pro forma execution
only. There should be no show of agility or of dexterous
manipulation in the execution of the priestly office, such as
might suggest a capacity for turning off the work.

In all this there is of course an obvious implication as to the
temperament, tastes, propensities, and habits of life imputed to
the divinity by worshippers who live under the tradition of these
pecuniary canons of reputability. Through its pervading men's
habits of thought, the principle of conspicuous waste has colored
the worshippers' notions of the divinity and of the relation in
which the human subject stands to him. It is of course in the
more naive cults that this suffusion of pecuniary beauty is most
patent, but it is visible throughout. All peoples, at whatever
stage of culture or degree of enlightenment, are fain to eke out
a sensibly scant degree of authentic formation
regarding the personality and habitual surroundings of their
divinities. In so calling in the aid of fancy to enrich and fill
in their picture of the divinity's presence and manner of life
they habitually impute to him such traits as go to make up their
ideal of a worthy man. And in seeking communion with the divinity
the ways and means of approach are assimilated as nearly as may
be to the divine ideal that is in men's minds at the time. It is
felt that the divine presence is entered with the best grace, and
with the best effect, according to certain accepted methods and
with the accompaniment of certain material circumstances which in
popular apprehension are peculiarly consonant with the divine
nature. This popularly accepted ideal of the bearing and
paraphernalia adequate to such occasions of communion is, of
course, to a good extent shaped by the popular apprehension of
what is intrinsically worthy and beautiful in human carriage and
surroundings on all occasions of dignified intercourse. It would
on this account be misleading to attempt an analysis of devout
demeanor by referring all evidences of the presence of a
pecuniary standard of reputability back directly and baldly to
the underlying norm of pecuniary emulation. So it would also be
misleading to ascribe to the divinity, as popularly conceived, a
jealous regard for his pecuniary standing and a habit of avoiding
and condemning squalid situations and surroundings simply because
they are under grade in the pecuniary respect.

And still, after all allowance has been made, it appears that the
canons of pecuniary reputability do, directly or
indirectly, materially affect our notions of the attributes of
divinity, as well as our notions of what are the fit and adequate
manner and circumstances of divine communion. It is felt that the
divinity must be of a peculiarly serene and leisurely habit of
life. And whenever his local habitation is pictured in poetic
imagery, for edification or in appeal to the devout fancy, the
devout word-painter, as a matter of course, brings out before his
auditors' imagination a throne with a profusion of the insignia
of opulence and power, and surrounded by a great number of
servitors. In the common run of such presentations of the
celestial abodes, the office of this corps of servants is a
vicarious leisure, their time and efforts being in great measure
taken up with an industrially unproductive rehearsal of the
meritorious characteristics and exploits of the divinity; while
the background of the presentation is filled with the shimmer of
the precious metals and of the more expensive varieties of
precious stones. It is only in the crasser expressions of devout
fancy that this intrusion of pecuniary canons into the devout
ideals reaches such an extreme. An extreme case occurs in the
devout imagery of the Negro population of the South. Their
word-painters are unable to descend to anything cheaper than
gold; so that in this case the insistence on pecuniary beauty
gives a startling effect in yellow -- such as would be unbearable
to a soberer taste. Still, there is probably no cult in which
ideals of pecuniary merit have not been called in to supplement
the ideals of ceremonial adequacy that guide men's conception of
what is right in the matter of sacred apparatus.

Similarly it is felt -- and the sentiment is acted upon -- that
the priestly servitors of the divinity should not engage in
industrially productive work; that work of any kind -- any
employment which is of tangible human use -- must not be carried
on in the divine presence, or within the precincts of the
sanctuary; that whoever comes into the presence should come
cleansed of all profane industrial features in his apparel or
person, and should come clad in garments of more than everyday
expensiveness; that on holidays set apart in honor of or for
communion with the divinity no work that is of human use should
be performed by any one. Even the remoter, lay dependents should
render a vicarious leisure to the extent of one day in seven.
In all these deliverances of men's uninstructed sense of what is
fit and proper in devout observance and in the relations of the
divinity, the effectual presence of the canons of
pecuniary reputability is obvious enough, whether these canons
have had their effect on the devout judgment in this respect
immediately or at the second remove.

These canons of reputability have had a similar, but more
far-reaching and more specifically determinable, effect upon the
popular sense of beauty or serviceability in consumable goods.
The requirements of pecuniary decency have, to a very appreciable
extent, influenced the sense of beauty and of utility in articles
of use or beauty. Articles are to an extent preferred for use on
account of their being conspicuously wasteful; they are felt to
be serviceable somewhat in proportion as they are wasteful and
ill adapted to their ostensible use.

The utility of articles valued for their beauty depends closely
upon the expensiveness of the articles. A homely
illustration will bring out this dependence. A hand-wrought
silver spoon, of a commercial value of some ten to twenty
dollars, is not ordinarily more serviceable -- in the first sense
of the word -- than a machine-made spoon of the same material. It
may not even be more serviceable than a machine-made spoon of
some "base" metal, such as aluminum, the value of which may be no
more than some ten to twenty cents. The former of the two
utensils is, in fact, commonly a less effective contrivance for
its ostensible purpose than the latter. The objection is of
course ready to hand that, in taking this view of the matter, one
of the chief uses, if not the chief use, of the costlier spoon is
ignored; the hand-wrought spoon gratifies our taste, our sense of
the beautiful, while that made by machinery out of the base metal
has no useful office beyond a brute efficiency. The facts are no
doubt as the objection states them, but it will be evident on
rejection that the objection is after all more plausible than
conclusive. It appears (1) that while the different materials of
which the two spoons are made each possesses beauty and
serviceability for the purpose for which it is used, the material
of the hand-wrought spoon is some one hundred times more valuable
than the baser metal, without very greatly excelling the latter
in intrinsic beauty of grain or color, and without being in any
appreciable degree superior in point of mechanical
serviceability; (2) if a close inspection should show that the
supposed hand-wrought spoon were in reality only a very clever
citation of hand-wrought goods, but an imitation so cleverly
wrought as to give the same impression of line and surface to any
but a minute examination by a trained eye, the utility of the
article, including the gratification which the user derives from
its contemplation as an object of beauty, would immediately
decline by some eighty or ninety per cent, or even more; (3) if
the two spoons are, to a fairly close observer, so nearly
identical in appearance that the lighter weight of the spurious
article alone betrays it, this identity of form and color will
scarcely add to the value of the machine-made spoon, nor
appreciably enhance the gratification of the user's "sense of
beauty" in contemplating it, so long as the cheaper spoon is not
a novelty, ad so long as it can be procured at a nominal cost.
The case of the spoons is typical. The superior
gratification derived from the use and contemplation of costly
and supposedly beautiful products is, commonly, in great measure
a gratification of our sense of costliness masquerading under the
name of beauty. Our higher appreciation of the superior article
is an appreciation of its superior honorific character, much more
frequently than it is an unsophisticated appreciation of its
beauty. The requirement of conspicuous wastefulness is not
commonly present, consciously, in our canons of taste, but it is
none the less present as a constraining norm selectively shaping
and sustaining our sense of what is beautiful, and guiding our
discrimination with respect to what may legitimately be approved
as beautiful and what may not.

It is at this point, where the beautiful and the honorific meet
and blend, that a discrimination between serviceability and
wastefulness is most difficult in any concrete case. It
frequently happens that an article which serves the honorific
purpose of conspicuous waste is at the same time a beautiful
object; and the same application of labor to which it owes its
utility for the former purpose may, and often does, give beauty
of form and color to the article. The question is further
complicated by the fact that many objects, as, for instance, the
precious stones and the metals and some other materials used for
adornment and decoration, owe their utility as items of
conspicuous waste to an antecedent utility as objects of beauty.
Gold, for instance, has a high degree of sensuous beauty very
many if not most of the highly prized works of art are
intrinsically beautiful, though often with material
qualification; the like is true of some stuffs used for clothing,
of some landscapes, and of many other things in less degree.
Except for this intrinsic beauty which they possess, these
objects would scarcely have been coveted as they are, or have
become monopolized objects of pride to their possessors and
users. But the utility of these things to the possessor is
commonly due less to their intrinsic beauty than to the honor
which their possession and consumption confers, or to the obloquy
which it wards off.

Apart from their serviceability in other respects, these objects
are beautiful and have a utility as such; they are valuable on
this account if they can be appropriated or
monopolized; they are, therefore, coveted as valuable
possessions, and their exclusive enjoyment gratifies the
possessor's sense of pecuniary superiority at the same time that
their contemplation gratifies his sense of beauty. But their
beauty, in the naive sense of the word, is the occasion rather
than the ground of their monopolization or of their commercial
value. "Great as is the sensuous beauty of gems, their rarity and
price adds an expression of distinction to them, which they would
never have if they were cheap." There is, indeed, in the common
run of cases under this head, relatively little incentive to the
exclusive possession and use of these beautiful things, except on
the ground of their honorific character as items of conspicuous
waste. Most objects of this general class, with the partial
exception of articles of personal adornment, would serve all
other purposes than the honorific one equally well, whether owned
by the person viewing them or not; and even as regards personal
ornaments it is to be added that their chief purpose is to lend
éclat to the person of their wearer (or owner) by comparison
with other persons who are compelled to do without. The aesthetic
serviceability of objects of beauty is not greatly nor
universally heightened by possession.

The generalization for which the discussion so far affords ground
is that any valuable object in order to appeal to our sense of
beauty must conform to the requirements of beauty and of
expensiveness both. But this is not all. Beyond this the canon of
expensiveness also affects our tastes in such a way as to
inextricably blend the marks of expensiveness, in our
appreciation, with the beautiful features of the object, and to
subsume the resultant effect under the head of an appreciation of
beauty simply. The marks of expensiveness come to be accepted as
beautiful features of the expensive articles. They are pleasing
as being marks of honorific costliness, and the pleasure which
they afford on this score blends with that afforded by the
beautiful form and color of the object; so that we often declare
that an article of apparel, for instance, is "perfectly lovely,"
when pretty much all that an analysis of the aesthetic value of
the article would leave ground for is the declaration that it is
pecuniarily honorific.

This blending and confusion of the elements of expensiveness and
of beauty is, perhaps, best exemplified in articles of dress and
of household furniture. The code of reputability in matters of
dress decides what shapes, colors, materials, and general effects
in human apparel are for the time to be accepted as suitable; and
departures from the code are offensive to our taste, supposedly
as being departures from aesthetic truth. The approval with which
we look upon fashionable attire is by no means to be accounted
pure make-believe. We readily, and for the most part with utter
sincerity, find those things pleasing that are in vogue. Shaggy
dress-stuffs and pronounced color effects, for instance, offend
us at times when the vogue is goods of a high, glossy finish and
neutral colors. A fancy bonnet of this year's model
unquestionably appeals to our sensibilities today much more
forcibly than an equally fancy bonnet of the model of last year;
although when viewed in the perspective of a quarter of a
century, it would, I apprehend, be a matter of the utmost
difficulty to award the palm for intrinsic beauty to the one
rather than to the other of these structures. So, again, it may
be remarked that, considered simply in their physical
juxtaposition with the human form, the high gloss of a
gentleman's hat or of a patent-leather shoe has no more of
intrinsic beauty than a similarly high gloss on a threadbare
sleeve; and yet there is no question but that all well-bred
people (in the Occidental civilized communities) instinctively
and unaffectedly cleave to the one as a phenomenon of great
beauty, and eschew the other as offensive to every sense to which
it can appeal. It is extremely doubtful if any one could be
induced to wear such a contrivance as the high hat of civilized
society, except for some urgent reason based on other than
aesthetic grounds.

By further habituation to an appreciative perception of the marks
of expensiveness in goods, and by habitually identifying beauty
with reputability, it comes about that a beautiful article which
is not expensive is accounted not beautiful. In this way it has
happened, for instance, that some beautiful flowers pass
conventionally for offensive weeds; others that can be cultivated
with relative ease are accepted and admired by the lower middle
class, who can afford no more expensive luxuries of this kind;
but these varieties are rejected as vulgar by those people who
are better able to pay for expensive flowers and who are educated
to a higher schedule of pecuniary beauty in the florist's
products; while still other flowers, of no greater intrinsic
beauty than these, are cultivated at great cost and call out much
admiration from flower-lovers whose tastes have been matured
under the critical guidance of a polite environment.

The same variation in matters of taste, from one class of society
to another, is visible also as regards many other kinds of
consumable goods, as, for example, is the case with furniture,
houses, parks, and gardens. This diversity of views as to what is
beautiful in these various classes of goods is not a diversity of
the norm according to which the unsophisticated sense of the
beautiful works. It is not a constitutional difference of
endowments in the aesthetic respect, but rather a difference in
the code of reputability which specifies what objects properly
lie within the scope of honorific consumption for the class to
which the critic belongs. It is a difference in the traditions of
propriety with respect to the kinds of things which may, without
derogation to the consumer, be consumed under the head of objects
of taste and art. With a certain allowance for variations to be
accounted for on other grounds, these traditions are determined,
more or less rigidly, by the pecuniary plane of life of the
class.

Everyday life affords many curious illustrations of the way in
which the code of pecuniary beauty in articles of use varies from
class to class, as well as of the way in which the
conventional sense of beauty departs in its deliverances from the
sense untutored by the requirements of pecuniary repute. Such a
fact is the lawn, or the close-cropped yard or park, which
appeals so unaffectedly to the taste of the Western peoples. It
appears especially to appeal to the tastes of the well-to-do
classes in those communities in which the dolicho-blond element
predominates in an appreciable degree. The lawn unquestionably
has an element of sensuous beauty, simply as an object of
apperception, and as such no doubt it appeals pretty directly to
the eye of nearly all races and all classes; but it is, perhaps,
more unquestionably beautiful to the eye of the dolicho-blond
than to most other varieties of men. This higher appreciation of
a stretch of greensward in this ethnic element than in the other
elements of the population, goes along with certain other
features of the dolicho-blond temperament that indicate that this
racial element had once been for a long time a pastoral people
inhabiting a region with a humid climate. The close-cropped lawn
is beautiful in the eyes of a people whose inherited bent it is
to readily find pleasure in contemplating a well-preserved
pasture or grazing land.

For the aesthetic purpose the lawn is a cow pasture; and in some
cases today -- where the expensiveness of the attendant
circumstances bars out any imputation of thrift -- the idyl of
the dolicho-blond is rehabilitated in the introduction of a cow
into a lawn or private ground. In such cases the cow made use of
is commonly of an expensive breed. The vulgar suggestion of
thrift, which is nearly inseparable from the cow, is a standing
objection to the decorative use of this animal. So that in all
cases, except where luxurious surroundings negate this
suggestion, the use of the cow as an object of taste must be
avoided. Where the predilection for some grazing animal to fill
out the suggestion of the pasture is too strong to be suppressed,
the cow's place is often given to some more or less inadequate
substitute, such as deer, antelopes, or some such exotic beast.
These substitutes, although less beautiful to the pastoral eye of
Western man than the cow, are in such cases preferred because of
their superior expensiveness or futility, and their consequent
repute. They are not vulgarly lucrative either in fact or in
suggestion.

Public parks of course fall in the same category with the lawn;
they too, at their best, are imitations of the pasture. Such a
park is of course best kept by grazing, and the cattle on the
grass are themselves no mean addition to the beauty of the thing,
as need scarcely be insisted on with anyone who has once seen a
well-kept pasture. But it is worth noting, as an
expression of the pecuniary element in popular taste, that such a
method of keeping public grounds is seldom resorted to. The best
that is done by skilled workmen under the supervision of a
trained keeper is a more or less close imitation of a pasture,
but the result invariably falls somewhat short of the artistic
effect of grazing. But to the average popular apprehension a herd
of cattle so pointedly suggests thrift and usefulness that their
presence in the public pleasure ground would be intolerably
cheap. This method of keeping grounds is comparatively
inexpensive, therefore it is indecorous.

Of the same general bearing is another feature of public grounds.
There is a studious exhibition of expensiveness coupled with a
make-believe of simplicity and crude serviceability. Private
grounds also show the same physiognomy wherever they are in the
management or ownership of persons whose tastes have been formed
under middle-class habits of life or under the upper-class
traditions of no later a date than the childhood of the
generation that is now passing. Grounds which conform to the
instructed tastes of the latter-day upper class do not show these
features in so marked a degree. The reason for this difference in
tastes between the past and the incoming generation of the
well-bred lies in the changing economic situation. A similar
difference is perceptible in other respects, as well as in the
accepted ideals of pleasure grounds. In this country as in most
others, until the last half century but a very small proportion
of the population were possessed of such wealth as would exempt
them from thrift. Owing to imperfect means of communication, this
small fraction were scattered and out of effective touch with one
another. There was therefore no basis for a growth of taste in
disregard of expensiveness. The revolt of the well-bred taste
against vulgar thrift was unchecked. Wherever the unsophisticated
sense of beauty might show itself sporadically in an approval of
inexpensive or thrifty surroundings, it would lack the "social
confirmation" which nothing but a considerable body of
like-minded people can give. There was, therefore, no effective
upper-class opinion that would overlook evidences of possible
inexpensiveness in the management of grounds; and there was
consequently no appreciable divergence between the leisure-class
and the lower middle-class ideal in the physiognomy of pleasure
grounds. Both classes equally constructed their ideals with the
fear of pecuniary disrepute before their eyes.

Today a divergence in ideals is beginning to be apparent. The
portion of the leisure class that has been consistently exempt
from work and from pecuniary cares for a generation or more is
now large enough to form and sustain opinion in matters of taste.
Increased mobility of the members has also added to the facility
with which a "social confirmation" can be attained within the
class. Within this select class the exemption from thrift is a
matter so commonplace as to have lost much of its utility as a
basis of pecuniary decency. Therefore the latter-day upper-class
canons of taste do not so consistently insist on an unremitting
demonstration of expensiveness and a strict exclusion of the
appearance of thrift. So, a predilection for the rustic and the
"natural" in parks and grounds makes its appearance on these
higher social and intellectual levels. This predilection is in
large part an outcropping of the instinct of workmanship; and it
works out its results with varying degrees of consistency. It is
seldom altogether unaffected, and at times it shades off into
something not widely different from that make-believe of
rusticity which has been referred to above.

A weakness for crudely serviceable contrivances that
pointedly suggest immediate and wasteless use is present even in
the middle-class tastes; but it is there kept well in hand under
the unbroken dominance of the canon of reputable futility.
Consequently it works out in a variety of ways and means for
shamming serviceability -- in such contrivances as rustic fences,
bridges, bowers, pavilions, and the like decorative features. An
expression of this affectation of serviceability, at what is
perhaps its widest divergence from the first promptings of the
sense of economic beauty, is afforded by the cast-iron rustic
fence and trellis or by a circuitous drive laid across level
ground.

The select leisure class has outgrown the use of these
pseudo-serviceable variants of pecuniary beauty, at least at some
points. But the taste of the more recent accessions to the
leisure class proper and of the middle and lower classes still
requires a pecuniary beauty to supplement the aesthetic beauty,
even in those objects which are primarily admired for the beauty
that belongs to them as natural growths.

The popular taste in these matters is to be seen in the prevalent
high appreciation of topiary work and of the
conventional flower-beds of public grounds. Perhaps as happy an
illustration as may be had of this dominance of pecuniary beauty
over aesthetic beauty in middle-class tastes is seen in the
reconstruction of the grounds lately occupied by the Columbian
Exposition. The evidence goes to show that the requirement of
reputable expensiveness is still present in good vigor even where
all ostensibly lavish display is avoided. The artistic effects
actually wrought in this work of reconstruction diverge somewhat
widely from the effect to which the same ground would have lent
itself in hands not guided by pecuniary canons of taste. And even
the better class of the city's population view the progress of
the work with an unreserved approval which suggests that there is
in this case little if any discrepancy between the tastes of the
upper and the lower or middle classes of the city. The sense of
beauty in the population of this representative city of the
advanced pecuniary culture is very chary of any departure from
its great cultural principle of conspicuous waste.

The love of nature, perhaps itself borrowed from a
higher-class code of taste, sometimes expresses itself in
unexpected ways under the guidance of this canon of pecuniary
beauty, and leads to results that may seem incongruous to an
unreflecting beholder. The well-accepted practice of planting
trees in the treeless areas of this country, for instance, has
been carried over as an item of honorific expenditure into the
heavily wooded areas; so that it is by no means unusual for a
village or a farmer in the wooded country to clear the land of
its native trees and immediately replant saplings of certain
introduced varieties about the farmyard or along the streets. In
this way a forest growth of oak, elm, beech, butternut, hemlock,
basswood, and birch is cleared off to give room for saplings of
soft maple, cottonwood, and brittle willow. It is felt that the
inexpensiveness of leaving the forest trees standing would
derogate from the dignity that should invest an article which is
intended to serve a decorative and honorific end.

The like pervading guidance of taste by pecuniary repute is
traceable in the prevalent standards of beauty in animals. The
part played by this canon of taste in assigning her place in the
popular aesthetic scale to the cow has already been spokes of.
Something to the same effect is true of the other domestic
animals, so far as they are in an appreciable degree industrially
useful to the community -- as, for instance, barnyard fowl, hogs,
cattle, sheep, goats, draught-horses. They are of the nature of
productive goods, and serve a useful, often a lucrative end;
therefore beauty is not readily imputed to them. The case is
different with those domestic animals which ordinarily serve no
industrial end; such as pigeons, parrots and other cage-birds,
cats, dogs, and fast horses. These commonly are items of
conspicuous consumption, and are therefore honorific in their
nature and may legitimately be accounted beautiful. This class of
animals are conventionally admired by the body of the upper
classes, while the pecuniarily lower classes -- and that select
minority of the leisure class among whom the rigorous canon that
abjures thrift is in a measure obsolescent -- find beauty in one
class of animals as in another, without drawing a hard and fast
line of pecuniary demarcation between the beautiful and the ugly.
In the case of those domestic animals which are honorific and are
reputed beautiful, there is a subsidiary basis of merit that
should be spokes of. Apart from the birds which belong in the
honorific class of domestic animals, and which owe their place in
this class to their non-lucrative character alone, the animals
which merit particular attention are cats, dogs, and fast horses.
The cat is less reputable than the other two just named, because
she is less wasteful; she may eves serve a useful end. At the
same time the cat's temperament does not fit her for the
honorific purpose. She lives with man on terms of equality, knows
nothing of that relation of status which is the ancient basis of
all distinctions of worth, honor, and repute, and she does not
lend herself with facility to an invidious comparison between her
owner and his neighbors. The exception to this last rule occurs
in the case of such scarce and fanciful products as the Angora
cat, which have some slight honorific value on the ground of
expensiveness, and have, therefore, some special claim to beauty
on pecuniary grounds.

The dog has advantages in the way of uselessness as well as in
special gifts of temperament. He is often spoken of, in an
eminent sense, as the friend of man, and his intelligence and
fidelity are praised. The meaning of this is that the dog is
man's servant and that he has the gift of an unquestioning
subservience and a slave's quickness in guessing his master's
mood. Coupled with these traits, which fit him well for the
relation of status -- and which must for the present purpose be
set down as serviceable traits -- the dog has some
characteristics which are of a more equivocal aesthetic value. He
is the filthiest of the domestic animals in his person and the
nastiest in his habits. For this he makes up is a servile,
fawning attitude towards his master, and a readiness to inflict
damage and discomfort on all else. The dog, then, commends
himself to our favor by affording play to our propensity for
mastery, and as he is also an item of expense, and commonly
serves no industrial purpose, he holds a well-assured place in
men's regard as a thing of good repute. The dog is at the same
time associated in our imagination with the chase -- a
meritorious employment and an expression of the honorable
predatory impulse. Standing on this vantage ground, whatever
beauty of form and motion and whatever commendable mental traits
he may possess are conventionally acknowledged and magnified. And
even those varieties of the dog which have been bred into
grotesque deformity by the dog-fancier are in good faith
accounted beautiful by many. These varieties of dogs -- and the
like is true of other fancy-bred animals -- are rated and graded
in aesthetic value somewhat in proportion to the degree of
grotesqueness and instability of the particular fashion which the
deformity takes in the given case. For the purpose in hand, this
differential utility on the ground of grotesqueness and
instability of structure is reducible to terms of a greater
scarcity and consequent expense. The commercial value of canine
monstrosities, such as the prevailing styles of pet dogs both for
men's and women's use, rests on their high cost of production,
and their value to their owners lies chiefly in their utility as
items of conspicuous consumption. In directly, through reflection
Upon their honorific expensiveness, a social worth is imputed to
them; and so, by an easy substitution of words and ideas, they
come to be admired and reputed beautiful. Since any attention
bestowed upon these animals is in no sense gainful or useful, it
is also reputable; and since the habit of giving them attention
is consequently not deprecated, it may grow into an habitual
attachment of great tenacity and of a most benevolent character.
So that in the affection bestowed on pet animals the canon of
expensiveness is present more or less remotely as a norm which
guides and shapes the sentiment and the selection of its object.
The like is true, as will be noticed presently, with respect to
affection for persons also; although the manner in which the norm
acts in that case is somewhat different.

The case of the fast horse is much like that of the dog. He is on
the whole expensive, or wasteful and useless -- for the
industrial purpose. What productive use he may possess, in the
way of enhancing the well-being of the community or making the
way of life easier for men, takes the form of exhibitions of
force and facility of motion that gratify the popular aesthetic
sense. This is of course a substantial serviceability. The horse
is not endowed with the spiritual aptitude for servile dependence
in the same measure as the dog; but he ministers effectually to
his master's impulse to convert the "animate" forces of the
environment to his own use and discretion and so express his own
dominating individuality through them. The fast horse is at least
potentially a race-horse, of high or low degree; and it is as
such that he is peculiarly serviceable to his owner. The utility
of the fast horse lies largely in his efficiency as a means of
emulation; it gratifies the owner's sense of aggression and
dominance to have his own horse outstrip his neighbor's. This use
being not lucrative, but on the whole pretty consistently
wasteful, and quite conspicuously so, it is honorific, and
therefore gives the fast horse a strong presumptive position of
reputability. Beyond this, the race-horse proper has also a
similarly non-industrial but honorific use as a gambling
instrument.

The fast horse, then, is aesthetically fortunate, in that the
canon of pecuniary good repute legitimates a free
appreciation of whatever beauty or serviceability he may possess.
His pretensions have the countenance of the principle of
conspicuous waste and the backing of the predatory aptitude for
dominance and emulation. The horse is, moreover, a beautiful
animal, although the race-horse is so in no peculiar degree to
the uninstructed taste of those persons who belong neither in the
class of race-horse fanciers nor in the class whose sense of
beauty is held in abeyance by the moral constraint of the horse
fancier's award. To this untutored taste the most beautiful horse
seems to be a form which has suffered less radical alteration
than the race-horse under the breeder's selective development of
the animal. Still, when a writer or speaker -- especially of
those whose eloquence is most consistently commonplace wants an
illustration of animal grace and serviceability, for rhetorical
use, he habitually turns to the horse; and he commonly makes it
plain before he is done that what he has in mind is the
race-horse.

It should be noted that in the graduated appreciation of
varieties of horses and of dogs, such as one meets with among
people of even moderately cultivated tastes in these matters,
there is also discernible another and more direct line of
influence of the leisure-class canons of reputability. In this
country, for instance, leisure-class tastes are to some extent
shaped on usages and habits which prevail, or which are
apprehended to prevail, among the leisure class of Great Britain.
In dogs this is true to a less extent than in horses. In horses,
more particularly in saddle horses -- which at their best serve
the purpose of wasteful display simply -- it will hold true in a
general way that a horse is more beautiful in proportion as he is
more English; the English leisure class being, for purposes of
reputable usage, the upper leisure class of this country, and so
the exemplar for the lower grades. This mimicry in the methods of
the apperception of beauty and in the forming of judgments of
taste need not result in a spurious, or at any rate not a
hypocritical or affected, predilection. The predilection is as
serious and as substantial an award of taste when it rests on
this basis as when it rests on any other, the difference is that
this taste is and as substantial an award of taste when it rests
on this basis as when it rests on any other; the difference is
that this taste is a taste for the reputably correct, not for the
aesthetically true.

The mimicry, it should be said, extends further than to the sense
of beauty in horseflesh simply. It includes trappings and
horsemanship as well, so that the correct or reputably beautiful
seat or posture is also decided by English usage, as well as the
equestrian gait. To show how fortuitous may sometimes be the
circumstances which decide what shall be becoming and what not
under the pecuniary canon of beauty, it may be noted that this
English seat, and the peculiarly distressing gait which has made
an awkward seat necessary, are a survival from the time when the
English roads were so bad with mire and mud as to be virtually
impassable for a horse travelling at a more comfortable gait; so
that a person of decorous tastes in horsemanship today rides a
punch with docked tail, in an uncomfortable posture and at a
distressing gait, because the English roads during a great part
of the last century were impassable for a horse travelling at a
more horse-like gait, or for an animal built for moving with ease
over the firm and open country to which the horse is indigenous.
It is not only with respect to consumable goods -- including
domestic animals -- that the canons of taste have been colored by
the canons of pecuniary reputability. Something to the like
effect is to be said for beauty in persons. In order to avoid
whatever may be matter of controversy, no weight will be given in
this connection to such popular predilection as there may be for
the dignified (leisurely) bearing and poly presence that are by
vulgar tradition associated with opulence in mature men. These
traits are in some measure accepted as elements of personal
beauty. But there are certain elements of feminine beauty, on the
other hand, which come in under this head, and which are of so
concrete and specific a character as to admit of itemized
appreciation. It is more or less a rule that in communities which
are at the stage of economic development at which women are
valued by the upper class for their service, the ideal of female
beauty is a robust, large-limbed woman. The ground of
appreciation is the physique, while the conformation of the face
is of secondary weight only. A well-known instance of this ideal
of the early predatory culture is that of the maidens of the
Homeric poems.

This ideal suffers a change in the succeeding development, when,
in the conventional scheme, the office of the high-class wife
comes to be a vicarious leisure simply. The ideal then includes
the characteristics which are supposed to result from or to go
with a life of leisure consistently enforced. The ideal accepted
under these circumstances may be gathered from
descriptions of beautiful women by poets and writers of the
chivalric times. In the conventional scheme of those days ladies
of high degree were conceived to be in perpetual tutelage, and to
be scrupulously exempt from all useful work. The resulting
chivalric or romantic ideal of beauty takes cognizance chiefly of
the face, and dwells on its delicacy, and on the delicacy of the
hands and feet, the slender figure, and especially the slender
waist. In the pictured representations of the women of that time,
and in modern romantic imitators of the chivalric thought and
feeling, the waist is attenuated to a degree that implies extreme
debility. The same ideal is still extant among a considerable
portion of the population of modern industrial communities; but
it is to be said that it has retained its hold most tenaciously
in those modern communities which are least advanced in point of
economic and civil development, and which show the most
considerable survivals of status and of predatory institutions.
That is to say, the chivalric ideal is best preserved in those
existing communities which are substantially least modern.
Survivals of this lackadaisical or romantic ideal occur freely in
the tastes of the well-to-do classes of Continental countries.
In modern communities which have reached the higher levels of
industrial development, the upper leisure class has
accumulated so great a mass of wealth as to place its women above
all imputation of vulgarly productive labor. Here the status of
women as vicarious consumers is beginning to lose its place in
the sections of the body of the people; and as a consequence the
ideal of feminine beauty is beginning to change back again from
the infirmly delicate, translucent, and hazardously slender, to a
woman of the archaic type that does not disown her hands and
feet, nor, indeed, the other gross material facts of her person.
In the course of economic development the ideal of beauty among
the peoples of the Western culture has shifted from the woman of
physical presence to the lady, and it is beginning to shift back
again to the woman; and all in obedience to the changing
conditions of pecuniary emulation. The exigencies of emulation at
one time required lusty slaves; at another time they required a
conspicuous performance of vicarious leisure and consequently an
obvious disability; but the situation is now beginning to outgrow
this last requirement, since, under the higher efficiency of
modern industry, leisure in women is possible so far down the
scale of reputability that it will no longer serve as a
definitive mark of the highest pecuniary grade.

Apart from this general control exercised by the norm of
conspicuous waste over the ideal of feminine beauty, there are
one or two details which merit specific mention as showing how it
may exercise an extreme constraint in detail over men's sense of
beauty in women. It has already been noticed that at the stages
of economic evolution at which conspicuous leisure is much
regarded as a means of good repute, the ideal requires delicate
and diminutive bands and feet and a slender waist. These
features, together with the other, related faults of structure
that commonly go with them, go to show that the person so
affected is incapable of useful effort and must therefore be
supported in idleness by her owner. She is useless and expensive,
and she is consequently valuable as evidence of pecuniary
strength. It results that at this cultural stage women take
thought to alter their persons, so as to conform more nearly to
the requirements of the instructed taste of the time; and under
the guidance of the canon of pecuniary decency, the men find the
resulting artificially induced pathological features attractive.
So, for instance, the constricted waist which has had so wide and
persistent a vogue in the communities of the Western culture, and
so also the deformed foot of the Chinese. Both of these are
mutilations of unquestioned repulsiveness to the untrained sense.
It requires habituation to become reconciled to them. Yet there
is no room to question their attractiveness to men into whose
scheme of life they fit as honorific items sanctioned by the
requirements of pecuniary reputability. They are items of
pecuniary and cultural beauty which have come to do duty as
elements of the ideal of womanliness.

The connection here indicated between the aesthetic value and the
invidious pecuniary value of things is of course not present in
the consciousness of the valuer. So far as a person, in forming a
judgment of taste, takes thought and reflects that the object of
beauty under consideration is wasteful and
reputable, and therefore may legitimately be accounted beautiful;
so far the judgment is not a bona fide judgment of taste and does
not come up for consideration in this connection. The connection
which is here insisted on between the reputability and the
apprehended beauty of objects lies through the effect which the
fact of reputability has upon the valuer's habits of thought. He
is in the habit of forming judgments of value of various
kinds-economic, moral, aesthetic, or reputable concerning the
objects with which he has to do, and his attitude of commendation
towards a given object on any other ground will affect the degree
of his appreciation of the object when he comes to value it for
the aesthetic purpose. This is more particularly true as regards
valuation on grounds so closely related to the aesthetic ground
as that of reputability. The valuation for the aesthetic purpose
and for the purpose of repute are not held apart as distinctly as
might be. Confusion is especially apt to arise between these two
kinds of valuation, because the value of objects for repute is
not habitually distinguished in speech by the use of a special
descriptive term. The result is that the terms in familiar use to
designate categories or elements of beauty are applied to cover
this unnamed element of pecuniary merit, and the corresponding
confusion of ideas follows by easy consequence. The demands of
reputability in this way coalesce in the popular apprehension
with the demands of the sense of beauty, and beauty which is not
accompanied by the accredited marks of good repute is not
accepted. But the requirements of pecuniary reputability and
those of beauty in the naive sense do not in any appreciable
degree coincide. The elimination from our surroundings of the
pecuniarily unfit, therefore, results in a more or less thorough
elimination of that considerable range of elements of beauty
which do not happen to conform to the pecuniary requirement.
The underlying norms of taste are of very ancient growth,
probably far antedating the advent of the pecuniary institutions
that are here under discussion. Consequently, by force of the
past selective adaptation of men's habits of thought, it happens
that the requirements of beauty, simply, are for the most part
best satisfied by inexpensive contrivances and structures which
in a straightforward manner suggest both the office which they
are to perform and the method of serving their end. It may be in
place to recall the modern psychological position. Beauty of form
seems to be a question of facility of apperception. The
proposition could perhaps safely be made broader than this. If
abstraction is made from association, suggestion, and
"expression," classed as elements of beauty, then beauty in any
perceived object means that the mid readily unfolds its
apperceptive activity in the directions which the object in
question affords. But the directions in which activity readily
unfolds or expresses itself are the directions to which long and
close habituation has made the mind prone. So far as concerns the
essential elements of beauty, this habituation is an habituation
so close and long as to have induced not only a proclivity to the
apperceptive form in question, but an adaptation of physiological
structure and function as well. So far as the economic interest
enters into the constitution of beauty, it enters as a suggestion
or expression of adequacy to a purpose, a manifest and readily
inferable subservience to the life process. This expression of
economic facility or economic serviceability in any object --
what may be called the economic beauty of the object-is best
sewed by neat and unambiguous suggestion of its office and its
efficiency for the material ends of life.

On this ground, among objects of use the simple and
unadorned article is aesthetically the best. But since the
pecuniary canon of reputability rejects the inexpensive in
articles appropriated to individual consumption, the satisfaction
of our craving for beautiful things must be sought by way of
compromise. The canons of beauty must be circumvented by some
contrivance which will give evidence of a reputably wasteful
expenditure, at the same time that it meets the demands of our
critical sense of the useful and the beautiful, or at least meets
the demand of some habit which has come to do duty in place of
that sense. Such an auxiliary sense of taste is the sense of
novelty; and this latter is helped out in its surrogateship by
the curiosity with which men view ingenious and puzzling
contrivances. Hence it comes that most objects alleged to be
beautiful, and doing duty as such, show considerable ingenuity of
design and are calculated to puzzle the beholder -- to bewilder
him with irrelevant suggestions and hints of the improbable -- at
the same time that they give evidence of an expenditure of labor
in excess of what would give them their fullest efficency for
their ostensible economic end.

This may be shown by an illustration taken from outside the range
of our everyday habits and everyday contact, and so outside the
range of our bias. Such are the remarkable feather mantles of
Hawaii, or the well-known cawed handles of the ceremonial adzes
of several Polynesian islands. These are undeniably beautiful,
both in the sense that they offer a pleasing composition of form,
lines, and color, and in the sense that they evince great skill
and ingenuity in design and construction. At the same time the
articles are manifestly ill fitted to serve any other economic
purpose. But it is not always that the evolution of ingenious and
puzzling contrivances under the guidance of the canon of wasted
effort works out so happy a result. The result is quite as often
a virtually complete suppression of all elements that would bear
scrutiny as expressions of beauty, or of serviceability, and the
substitution of evidences of misspent ingenuity and labor, backed
by a conspicuous ineptitude; until many of the objects with which
we surround ourselves in everyday life, and even many articles of
everyday dress and ornament, are such as would not be tolerated
except under the stress of prescriptive tradition. Illustrations
of this substitution of ingenuity and expense in place of beauty
and serviceability are to be seen, for instance, in domestic
architecture, in domestic art or fancy work, in various articles
of apparel, especially of feminine and priestly apparel.

The canon of beauty requires expression of the generic. The
"novelty" due to the demands of conspicuous waste traverses this
canon of beauty, in that it results in making the physiognomy of
our objects of taste a congeries of idiosyncrasies; and the
idiosyncrasies are, moreover, under the selective surveillance of
the canon of expensiveness.

This process of selective adaptation of designs to the end of
conspicuous waste, and the substitution of pecuniary beauty for
aesthetic beauty, has been especially effective in the
development of architecture. It would be extremely difficult to
find a modern civilized residence or public building which can
claim anything better than relative inoffensiveness in the eyes
of anyone who will dissociate the elements of beauty from those
of honorific waste. The endless variety of fronts presented by
the better class of tenements and apartment houses in our cities
is an endless variety of architectural distress and of
suggestions of expensive discomfort. Considered as objects of
beauty, the dead walls of the sides and back of these structures,
left untouched by the hands of the artist, are commonly the best
feature of the building.

What has been said of the influence of the law of
conspicuous waste upon the canons of taste will hold true, with
but a slight change of terms, of its influence upon our notions
of the serviceability of goods for other ends than the aesthetic
one. Goods are produced and consumed as a means to the fuller
unfolding of human life; and their utility consists, in the first
instance, in their efficiency as means to this end. The end is,
in the first instance, the fullness of life of the individual,
taken in absolute terms. But the human proclivity to emulation
has seized upon the consumption of goods as a means to an
invidious comparison, and has thereby invested constable goods
with a secondary utility as evidence of relative ability to pay.
This indirect or secondary use of consumable goods lends an
honorific character to consumption and presently also to the
goods which best serve the emulative end of consumption. The
consumption of expensive goods is meritorious, and the goods
which contain an appreciable element of cost in excess of what
goes to give them serviceability for their ostensible mechanical
purpose are honorific. The marks of superfluous costliness in the
goods are therefore marks of worth -- of high efficency for the
indirect, invidious end to be served by their consumption; and
conversely, goods are humilific, and therefore unattractive, if
they show too thrifty an adaptation to the mechanical end sought
and do not include a margin of expensiveness on which to rest a
complacent invidious comparison. This indirect utility gives much
of their value to the "better" grades of goods. In order to
appeal to the cultivated sense of utility, an article must
contain a modicum of this indirect utility.

While men may have set out with disapproving an inexpensive
manner of living because it indicated inability to spend much,
and so indicated a lack of pecuniary success, they end by falling
into the habit of disapproving cheap things as being
intrinsically dishonorable or unworthy because they are cheap. As
time has gone on, each succeeding generation has received this
tradition of meritorious expenditure from the generation before
it, and has in its turn further elaborated and fortified the
traditional canon of pecuniary reputability in goods consumed;
until we have finally reached such a degree of conviction as to
the unworthiness of all inexpensive things, that we have no
longer any misgivings in formulating the maxim, "Cheap and
nasty."  So thoroughly has the habit of approving the expensive
and disapproving the inexpensive been ingrained into our thinking
that we instinctively insist upon at least some measure of
wasteful expensiveness in all our consumption, even in the case
of goods which are consumed in strict privacy and without the
slightest thought of display. We all feel, sincerely and without
misgiving, that we are the more lifted up in spirit for having,
even in the privacy of our own household, eaten our daily meal by
the help of hand-wrought silver utensils, from hand-painted china
(often of dubious artistic value) laid on high-priced table
linen. Any retrogression from the standard of living which we are
accustomed to regard as worthy in this respect is felt to be a
grievous violation of our human dignity. So, also, for the last
dozen years candles have been a more pleasing source of light at
dinner than any other. Candlelight is now softer, less
distressing to well-bred eyes, than oil, gas, or electric light.
The same could not have been said thirty years ago, when candles
were, or recently had been, the cheapest available light for
domestic use. Nor are candles even now found to give an
acceptable or effective light for any other than a ceremonial
illumination.

A political sage still living has summed up the conclusion of
this whole matter in the dictum: "A cheap coat makes a cheap
man," and there is probably no one who does not feel the
convincing force of the maxim.

The habit of looking for the marks of superfluous
expensiveness in goods, and of requiring that all goods should
afford some utility of the indirect or invidious sort, leads to a
change in the standards by which the utility of goods is gauged.
The honorific element and the element of brute efficiency are not
held apart in the consumer's appreciation of commodities, and the
two together go to make up the unanalyzed aggregate
serviceability of the goods. Under the resulting standard of
serviceability, no article will pass muster on the strength of
material sufficiency alone. In order to completeness and full
acceptability to the consumer it must also show the honorific
element. It results that the producers of articles of consumption
direct their efforts to the production of goods that shall meet
this demand for the honorific element. They will do this with all
the more alacrity and effect, since they are themselves under the
dominance of the same standard of worth in goods, and would be
sincerely grieved at the sight of goods which lack the proper
honorific finish. Hence it has come about that there are today no
goods supplied in any trade which do not contain the honorific
element in greater or less degree. Any consumer who might,
Diogenes-like, insist on the elimination of all honorific or
wasteful elements from his consumption, would be unable to supply
his most trivial wants in the modern market. Indeed, even if he
resorted to supplying his wants directly by his own efforts, he
would find it difficult if not impossible to divest himself of
the current habits of thought on this head; so that he could
scarcely compass a supply of the necessaries of life for a day's
consumption without instinctively and by oversight incorporating
in his home-made product something of this honorific,
quasi-decorative element of wasted labor.

It is notorious that in their selection of serviceable goods in
the retail market purchasers are guided more by the finish and
workmanship of the goods than by any marks of substantial
serviceability. Goods, in order to sell, must have some
appreciable amount of labor spent in giving them the marks of
decent expensiveness, in addition to what goes to give them
efficiency for the material use which they are to serve. This
habit of making obvious costliness a canon of serviceability of
course acts to enhance the aggregate cost of articles of
consumption. It puts us on our guard against cheapness by
identifying merit in some degree with cost. There is ordinarily a
consistent effort on the part of the consumer to obtain goods of
the required serviceability at as advantageous a bargain as may
be; but the conventional requirement of obvious costliness, as a
voucher and a constituent of the serviceability of the goods,
leads him to reject as under grade such goods as do not contain a
large element of conspicuous waste.

It is to be added that a large share of those features of
consumable goods which figure in popular apprehension as marks of
serviceability, and to which reference is here had as elements of
conspicuous waste, commend themselves to the consumer also on
other grounds than that of expensiveness alone. They usually give
evidence of skill and effective workmanship, even if they do not
contribute to the substantial serviceability of the goods; and it
is no doubt largely on some such ground that any particular mark
of honorific serviceability first comes into vogue and afterward
maintains its footing as a normal constituent element of the
worth of an article. A display of efficient workmanship is
pleasing simply as such, even where its remoter, for the time
unconsidered, outcome is futile. There is a gratification of the
artistic sense in the contemplation of skillful work. But it is
also to be added that no such evidence of skillful workmanship,
or of ingenious and effective adaptation of means to an end,
will, in the long run, enjoy the approbation of the modern
civilized consumer unless it has the sanction of the Canon of
conspicuous waste.

The position here taken is enforced in a felicitous manner by the
place assigned in the economy of consumption to machine products.
The point of material difference between machine-made goods and
the hand-wrought goods which serve the same purposes is,
ordinarily, that the former serve their primary purpose more
adequately. They are a more perfect product -- show a more
perfect adaptation of means to end. This does not save them from
disesteem and deprecation, for they fall short under the test of
honorific waste. Hand labor is a more wasteful method of
production; hence the goods turned out by this method are more
serviceable for the purpose of pecuniary reputability; hence the
marks of hand labor come to be honorific, and the goods which
exhibit these marks take rank as of higher grade than the
corresponding machine product. Commonly, if not invariably, the
honorific marks of hand labor are certain imperfections and
irregularities in the lines of the hand-wrought article, showing
where the workman has fallen short in the execution of the
design. The ground of the superiority of hand-wrought goods,
therefore, is a certain margin of crudeness. This margin must
never be so wide as to show bungling workmanship, since that
would be evidence of low cost, nor so narrow as to suggest the
ideal precision attained only by the machine, for that would be
evidence of low cost.

The appreciation of those evidences of honorific crudeness to
which hand-wrought goods owe their superior worth and charm in
the eyes of well-bred people is a matter of nice discrimination.
It requires training and the formation of right habits of thought
with respect to what may be called the physiognomy of goods.
Machine-made goods of daily use are often admired and preferred
precisely on account of their excessive perfection by the vulgar
and the underbred who have not given due thought to the
punctilios of elegant consumption. The ceremonial inferiority of
machine products goes to show that the perfection of skill and
workmanship embodied in any costly innovations in the finish of
goods is not sufficient of itself to secure them acceptance and
permanent favor. The innovation must have the support of the
canon of conspicuous waste. Any feature in the physiognomy of
goods, however pleasing in itself, and however well it may
approve itself to the taste for effective work, will not be
tolerated if it proves obnoxious to this norm of pecuniary
reputability.

The ceremonial inferiority or uncleanness in consumable goods due
to "commonness," or in other words to their slight cost of
production, has been taken very seriously by many persons. The
objection to machine products is often formulated as an objection
to the commonness of such goods. What is common is within the
(pecuniary) reach of many people. Its consumption is therefore
not honorific, since it does not serve the purpose of a favorable
invidious comparison with other consumers. Hence the consumption,
or even the sight of such goods, is inseparable from an odious
suggestion of the lower levels of human life, and one comes away
from their contemplation with a pervading sense of meanness that
is extremely distasteful and depressing to a person of
sensibility. In persons whose tastes assert themselves
imperiously, and who have not the gift, habit, or incentive to
discriminate between the grounds of their various judgments of
taste, the deliverances of the sense of the honorific coalesce
with those of the sense of beauty and of the sense of
serviceability -- in the manner already spoken of; the resulting
composite valuation serves as a judgment of the object's beauty
or its serviceability, according as the valuer's bias or interest
inclines him to apprehend the object in the one or the other of
these aspects. It follows not infrequently that the marks of
cheapness or commonness are accepted as definitive marks of
artistic unfitness, and a code or schedule of aesthetic
proprieties on the one hand, and of aesthetic abominations on the
other, is constructed on this basis for guidance in questions of
taste.

As has already been pointed out, the cheap, and therefore
indecorous, articles of daily consumption in modern industrial
communities are commonly machine products; and the generic
feature of the physiognomy of machine-made goods as compared with
the hand-wrought article is their greater perfection in
workmanship and greater accuracy in the detail execution of the
design. Hence it comes about that the visible imperfections of
the hand-wrought goods, being honorific, are accounted marks of
superiority in point of beauty, or serviceability, or both. Hence
has arisen that exaltation of the defective, of which John Ruskin
and William Morris were such eager spokesmen in their time; and
on this ground their propaganda of crudity and wasted effort has
been taken up and carried forward since their time. And hence
also the propaganda for a return to handicraft and household
industry. So much of the work and speculations of this group of
men as fairly comes under the characterization here given would
have been impossible at a time when the visibly more perfect
goods were not the cheaper.

It is of course only as to the economic value of this school of
aesthetic teaching that anything is intended to be said or can be
said here. What is said is not to be taken in the sense of
depreciation, but chiefly as a characterization of the tendency
of this teaching in its effect on consumption and on the
production of consumable goods.

The manner in which the bias of this growth of taste has worked
itself out in production is perhaps most cogently
exemplified in the book manufacture with which Morris busied
himself during the later years of his life; but what holds true
of the work of the Kelmscott Press in an eminent degree, holds
true with but slightly abated force when applied to latter-day
artistic book-making generally -- as to type, paper,
illustration, binding materials, and binder's work. The claims to
excellence put forward by the later products of the bookmaker's
industry rest in some measure on the degree of its approximation
to the crudities of the time when the work of book-making was a
doubtful struggle with refractory materials carried on by means
of insufficient appliances. These products, since they require
hand labor, are more expensive; they are also less convenient for
use than the books turned out with a view to serviceability
alone; they therefore argue ability on the part of the purchaser
to consume freely, as well as ability to waste time and effort.
It is on this basis that the printers of today are returning to
"old-style," and other more or less obsolete styles of type which
are less legible and give a cruder appearance to the page than
the "modern." Even a scientific periodical, with ostensibly no
purpose but the most effective presentation of matter with which
its science is concerned, will concede so much to the demands of
this pecuniary beauty as to publish its scientific discussions in
oldstyle type, on laid paper, and with uncut edges. But books
which are not ostensibly concerned with the effective
presentation of their contents alone, of course go farther in
this direction. Here we have a somewhat cruder type, printed on
hand-laid, deckel-edged paper, with excessive margins and uncut
leaves, with bindings of a painstaking crudeness and elaborate
ineptitude. The Kelmscott Press reduced the matter to an
absurdity -- as seen from the point of view of brute
serviceability alone -- by issuing books for modern use, edited
with the obsolete spelling, printed in black-letter, and bound in
limp vellum fitted with thongs. As a further characteristic
feature which fixes the economic place of artistic book-making,
there is the fact that these more elegant books are, at their
best, printed in limited editions. A limited edition is in effect
a guarantee -- somewhat crude, it is true -- that this book is
scarce and that it therefore is costly and lends pecuniary
distinction to its consumer.

The special attractiveness of these book-products to the
book-buyer of cultivated taste lies, of course, not in a
conscious, naive recognition of their costliness and superior
clumsiness. Here, as in the parallel case of the superiority of
hand-wrought articles over machine products, the conscious ground
of preference is an intrinsic excellence imputed to the costlier
and more awkward article. The superior excellence imputed to the
book which imitates the products of antique and obsolete
processes is conceived to be chiefly a superior utility in the
aesthetic respect; but it is not unusual to find a well-bred
book-lover insisting that the clumsier product is also more
serviceable as a vehicle of printed speech. So far as regards the
superior aesthetic value of the decadent book, the chances are
that the book-lover's contention has some ground. The book is
designed with an eye single to its beauty, and the result is
commonly some measure of success on the part of the designer.
What is insisted on here, however, is that the canon of taste
under which the designer works is a canon formed under the
surveillance of the law of conspicuous waste, and that this law
acts selectively to eliminate any canon of taste that does not
conform to its demands. That is to say, while the decadent book
may be beautiful, the limits within which the designer may work
are fixed by requirements of a non-aesthetic kind. The product,
if it is beautiful, must also at the same time be costly and ill
adapted to its ostensible use. This mandatory canon of taste in
the case of the book-designer, however, is not shaped entirely by
the law of waste in its first form; the canon is to some extent
shaped in conformity to that secondary expression of the
predatory temperament, veneration for the archaic or obsolete,
which in one of its special developments is called classicism.
In aesthetic theory it might be extremely difficult, if not quite
impracticable, to draw a line between the canon of
classicism, or regard for the archaic, and the canon of beauty.
For the aesthetic purpose such a distinction need scarcely be
drawn, and indeed it need not exist. For a theory of taste the
expression of an accepted ideal of archaism, on whatever basis it
may have been accepted, is perhaps best rated as an element of
beauty; there need be no question of its legitimation. But for
the present purpose -- for the purpose of determining what
economic grounds are present in the accepted canons of taste and
what is their significance for the distribution and consumption
of goods -- the distinction is not similarly beside the point.
The position of machine products in the civilized scheme of
consumption serves to point out the nature of the relation which
subsists between the canon of conspicuous waste and the code of
proprieties in consumption. Neither in matters of art and taste
proper, nor as regards the current sense of the serviceability of
goods, does this canon act as a principle of innovation or
initiative. It does not go into the future as a creative
principle which makes innovations and adds new items of
consumption and new elements of cost. The principle in question
is, in a certain sense, a negative rather than a positive law. It
is a regulative rather than a creative principle. It very rarely
initiates or originates any usage or custom directly. Its action
is selective only. Conspicuous wastefulness does not directly
afford ground for variation and growth, but conformity to its
requirements is a condition to the survival of such innovations
as may be made on other grounds. In whatever way usages and
customs and methods of expenditure arise, they are all subject to
the selective action of this norm of reputability; and the degree
in which they conform to its requirements is a test of their
fitness to survive in the competition with other similar usages
and customs. Other thing being equal, the more obviously wasteful
usage or method stands the better chance of survival under this
law. The law of conspicuous waste does not account for the origin
of variations, but only for the persistence of such forms as are
fit to survive under its dominance. It acts to conserve the fit,
not to originate the acceptable. Its office is to prove all
things and to hold fast that which is good for its purpose.




Chapter Seven

Dress as an Expression of the Pecuniary Culture

It will in place, by way of illustration, to show in some detail
how the economic principles so far set forth apply to everyday
facts in some one direction of the life process. For this purpose
no line of consumption affords a more apt
illustration than expenditure on dress. It is especially the rule
of the conspicuous waste of goods that finds expression in dress,
although the other, related principles of pecuniary repute are
also exemplified in the same contrivances. Other methods of
putting one's pecuniary standing in evidence serve their end
effectually, and other methods are in vogue always and
everywhere; but expenditure on dress has this advantage over most
other methods, that our apparel is always in evidence and affords
an indication of our pecuniary standing to all observers at the
first glance. It is also true that admitted expenditure for
display is more obviously present, and is, perhaps, more
universally practiced in the matter of dress than in any other
line of consumption. No one finds difficulty in assenting to the
commonplace that the greater part of the expenditure incurred by
all classes for apparel is incurred for the sake of a respectable
appearance rather than for the protection of the person. And
probably at no other point is the sense of shabbiness so keenly
felt as it is if we fall short of the standard set by social
usage in this matter of dress. It is true of dress in even a
higher degree than of most other items of consumption, that
people will undergo a very considerable degree of privation in
the comforts or the necessaries of life in order to afford what
is considered a decent amount of wasteful consumption; so that it
is by no means an uncommon occurrence, in an inclement climate,
for people to go ill clad in order to appear well dressed. And
the commercial value of the goods used for clotting in any modern
community is made up to a much larger extent of the
fashionableness, the reputability of the goods than of the
mechanical service which they render in clothing the person of
the wearer. The need of dress is eminently a "higher" or
spiritual need.

This spiritual need of dress is not wholly, nor even
chiefly, a naive propensity for display of expenditure. The law
of conspicuous waste guides consumption in apparel, as in other
things, chiefly at the second remove, by shaping the canons of
taste and decency. In the common run of cases the conscious
motive of the wearer or purchaser of conspicuously wasteful
apparel is the need of conforming to established usage, and of
living up to the accredited standard of taste and reputability.
It is not only that one must be guided by the code of proprieties
in dress in order to avoid the mortification that comes of
unfavorable notice and comment, though that motive in itself
counts for a great deal; but besides that, the requirement of
expensiveness is so ingrained into our habits of thought in
matters of dress that any other than expensive apparel is
instinctively odious to us. Without reflection or analysis, we
feel that what is inexpensive is unworthy. "A cheap coat makes a
cheap man." "Cheap and nasty" is recognized to hold true in dress
with even less mitigation than in other lines of consumption. On
the ground both of taste and of serviceability, an inexpensive
article of apparel is held to be inferior, under the maxim "cheap
and nasty." We find things beautiful, as well as serviceable,
somewhat in proportion as they are costly. With few and
inconsequential exceptions, we all find a costly hand-wrought
article of apparel much preferable, in point of beauty and of
serviceability, to a less expensive imitation of it, however
cleverly the spurious article may imitate the costly original;
and what offends our sensibilities in the spurious article is not
that it falls short in form or color, or, indeed, in visual
effect in any way. The offensive object may be so close an
imitation as to defy any but the closest scrutiny; and yet so
soon as the counterfeit is detected, its aesthetic value, and its
commercial value as well, declines precipitately. Not only that,
but it may be asserted with but small risk of contradiction that
the aesthetic value of a detected counterfeit in dress declines
somewhat in the same proportion as the counterfeit is cheaper
than its original. It loses caste aesthetically because it falls
to a lower pecuniary grade.

But the function of dress as an evidence of ability to pay does
not end with simply showing that the wearer consumes
valuable goods in excess of what is required for physical
comfort. Simple conspicuous waste of goods is effective and
gratifying as far as it goes; it is good prima facie evidence of
pecuniary success, and consequently prima facie evidence of
social worth. But dress has subtler and more far-reaching
possibilities than this crude, first-hand evidence of wasteful
consumption only. If, in addition to showing that the wearer can
afford to consume freely and uneconomically, it can also be shown
in the same stroke that he or she is not under the necessity of
earning a livelihood, the evidence of social worth is enhanced in
a very considerable degree. Our dress, therefore, in order to
serve its purpose effectually, should not only he expensive, but
it should also make plain to all observers that the wearer is not
engaged in any kind of productive labor. In the evolutionary
process by which our system of dress has been elaborated into its
present admirably perfect adaptation to its purpose, this
subsidiary line of evidence has received due attention. A
detailed examination of what passes in popular apprehension for
elegant apparel will show that it is contrived at every point to
convey the impression that the wearer does not habitually put
forth any useful effort. It goes without saying that no apparel
can be considered elegant, or even decent, if it shows the effect
of manual labor on the part of the wearer, in the way of soil or
wear. The pleasing effect of neat and spotless garments is
chiefly, if not altogether, due to their carrying the suggestion
of leisure-exemption from personal contact with industrial
processes of any kind. Much of the charm that invests the
patent-leather shoe, the stainless linen, the lustrous
cylindrical hat, and the walking-stick, which so greatly enhance
the native dignity of a gentleman, comes of their pointedly
suggesting that the wearer cannot when so attired bear a hand in
any employment that is directly and immediately of any human use.
Elegant dress serves its purpose of elegance not only in that it
is expensive, but also because it is the insignia of leisure. It
not only shows that the wearer is able to consume a relatively
large value, but it argues at the same time that he consumes
without producing.

The dress of women goes even farther than that of men in the way
of demonstrating the wearer's abstinence from productive
employment. It needs no argument to enforce the generalization
that the more elegant styles of feminine bonnets go even farther
towards making work impossible than does the man's high hat. The
woman's shoe adds the so-called French heel to the evidence of
enforced leisure afforded by its polish; because this high heel
obviously makes any, even the simplest and most necessary manual
work extremely difficult. The like is true even in a higher
degree of the skirt and the rest of the drapery which
characterizes woman's dress. The substantial reason for our
tenacious attachment to the skirt is just this; it is expensive
and it hampers the wearer at every turn and incapacitates her for
all useful exertion. The like is true of the feminine custom of
wearing the hair excessively long.

But the woman's apparel not only goes beyond that of the modern
man in the degree in which it argues exemption from labor; it
also adds a peculiar and highly characteristic feature which
differs in kind from anything habitually practiced by the men.
This feature is the class of contrivances of which the corset is
the typical example. The corset is, in economic theory,
substantially a mutilation, undergone for the purpose of lowering
the subject's vitality and rendering her permanently and
obviously unfit for work. It is true, the corset impairs the
personal attractions of the wearer, but the loss suffered on that
score is offset by the gain in reputability which comes of her
visibly increased expensiveness and infirmity. It may broadly be
set down that the womanliness of woman's apparel resolves itself,
in point of substantial fact, into the more effective hindrance
to useful exertion offered by the garments peculiar to women.
This difference between masculine and feminine apparel is here
simply pointed out as a characteristic feature. The ground of its
occurrence will be discussed presently.

So far, then, we have, as the great and dominant norm of dress,
the broad principle of conspicuous waste. Subsidiary to this
principle, and as a corollary under it, we get as a second norm
the principle of conspicuous leisure. In dress construction this
norm works out in the shape of divers contrivances going to show
that the wearer does not and, as far as it may conveniently be
shown, can not engage in productive labor. Beyond these two
principles there is a third of scarcely less constraining force,
which will occur to any one who reflects at all on the subject.
Dress must not only be conspicuously expensive and inconvenient,
it must at the same time be up to date. No explanation at all
satisfactory has hitherto been offered of the phenomenon of
changing fashions. The imperative requirement of dressing in the
latest accredited manner, as well as the fact that this
accredited fashion constantly changes from season to season, is
sufficiently familiar to every one, but the theory of this flux
and change has not been worked out. We may of course say, with
perfect consistency and truthfulness, that this principle of
novelty is another corollary under the law of conspicuous waste.
Obviously, if each garment is permitted to serve for but a brief
term, and if none of last season's apparel is carried over and
made further use of during the present season, the wasteful
expenditure on dress is greatly increased. This is good as far as
it goes, but it is negative only. Pretty much all that this
consideration warrants us in saying is that the norm of
conspicuous waste exercises a controlling surveillance in all
matters of dress, so that any change in the fashions must
conspicuous waste exercises a controlling surveillance in all
matters of dress, so that any change in the fashions must conform
to the requirement of wastefulness; it leaves unanswered the
question as to the motive for making and accepting a change in
the prevailing styles, and it also fails to explain why
conformity to a given style at a given time is so imperatively
necessary as we know it to be.

For a creative principle, capable of serving as motive to
invention and innovation in fashions, we shall have to go back to
the primitive, non-economic motive with which apparel originated
-- the motive of adornment. Without going into an extended
discussion of how and why this motive asserts itself under the
guidance of the law of expensiveness, it may be stated broadly
that each successive innovation in the fashions is an effort to
reach some form of display which shall be more acceptable to our
sense of form and color or of effectiveness, than that which it
displaces. The changing styles are the expression of a restless
search for something which shall commend itself to our aesthetic
sense; but as each innovation is subject to the selective action
of the norm of conspicuous waste, the range within which
innovation can take place is somewhat restricted. The innovation
must not only be more beautiful, or perhaps oftener less
offensive, than that which it displaces, but it must also come up
to the accepted standard of expensiveness.

It would seem at first sight that the result of such an
unremitting struggle to attain the beautiful in dress should be a
gradual approach to artistic perfection. We might naturally
expect that the fashions should show a well-marked trend in the
direction of some one or more types of apparel eminently becoming
to the human form; and we might even feel that ge have
substantial ground for the hope that today, after all the
ingenuity and effort which have been spent on dress these many
years, the fashions should have achieved a relative perfection
and a relative stability, closely approximating to a permanently
tenable artistic ideal. But such is not the case. It would be
very hazardous indeed to assert that the styles of today are
intrinsically more becoming than those of ten years ago, or than
those of twenty, or fifty, or one hundred years ago. On the other
hand, the assertion freely goes uncontradicted that styles in
vogue two thousand years ago are more becoming than the most
elaborate and painstaking constructions of today.

The explanation of the fashions just offered, then, does not
fully explain, and we shall have to look farther. It is well
known that certain relatively stable styles and types of costume
have been worked out in various parts of the world; as, for
instance, among the Japanese, Chinese, and other Oriental
nations; likewise among the Greeks, Romans, and other Eastern
peoples of antiquity so also, in later times, among the, peasants
of nearly every country of Europe. These national or popular
costumes are in most cases adjudged by competent critics to be
more becoming, more artistic, than the fluctuating styles of
modern civilized apparel. At the same time they are also, at
least usually, less obviously wasteful; that is to say, other
elements than that of a display of expense are more readily
detected in their structure.

These relatively stable costumes are, commonly, pretty strictly
and narrowly localized, and they vary by slight and systematic
gradations from place to place. They have in every case been
worked out by peoples or classes which are poorer than we, and
especially they belong in countries and localities and times
where the population, or at least the class to which the costume
in question belongs, is relatively homogeneous, stable, and
immobile. That is to say, stable costumes which will bear the
test of time and perspective are worked out under circumstances
where the norm of conspicuous waste asserts itself less
imperatively than it does in the large modern civilized cities,
whose relatively mobile wealthy population today sets the pace in
matters of fashion. The countries and classes which have in this
way worked out stable and artistic costumes have been so placed
that the pecuniary emulation among them has taken the direction
of a competition in conspicuous leisure rather than in
conspicuous consumption of goods. So that it will hold true in a
general way that fashions are least stable and least becoming in
those communities where the principle of a conspicuous waste of
goods asserts itself most imperatively, as among ourselves. All
this points to an antagonism between expensiveness and artistic
apparel. In point of practical fact, the norm of conspicuous
waste is incompatible with the requirement that dress should be
beautiful or becoming. And this antagonism offers an explanation
of that restless change in fashion which neither the canon of
expensiveness nor that of beauty alone can account for.

The standard of reputability requires that dress should show
wasteful expenditure; but all wastefulness is offensive to native
taste. The psychological law has already been pointed out that
all men -- and women perhaps even in a higher degree abhor
futility, whether of effort or of expenditure -- much as Nature
was once said to abhor a vacuum. But the principle of conspicuous
waste requires an obviously futile expenditure; and the resulting
conspicuous expensiveness of dress is therefore intrinsically
ugly. Hence we find that in all innovations in dress, each added
or altered detail strives to avoid condemnation by showing some
ostensible purpose, at the same time that the requirement of
conspicuous waste prevents the purposefulness of these
innovations from becoming anything more than a somewhat
transparent pretense. Even in its freest flights, fashion rarely
if ever gets away from a simulation of some ostensible use. The
ostensible usefulness of the fashionable details of dress,
however, is always so transparent a make-believe, and their
substantial futility presently forces itself so baldly upon our
attention as to become unbearable, and then we take refuge in a
new style. But the new style must conform to the requirement of
reputable wastefulness and futility. Its futility presently
becomes as odious as that of its predecessor; and the only remedy
which the law of waste allows us is to seek relief in some new
construction, equally futile and equally untenable. Hence the
essential ugliness and the unceasing change of fashionable
attire.

Having so explained the phenomenon of shifting fashions, the next
thing is to make the explanation tally with everyday facts. Among
these everyday facts is the well-known liking which all men have
for the styles that are in vogue at any given time. A new style
comes into vogue and remains in favor for a season, and, at least
so long as it is a novelty, people very generally find the new
style attractive. The prevailing fashion is felt to be beautiful.
This is due partly to the relief it affords in being different
from what went before it, partly to its being
reputable. As indicated in the last chapter, the canon of
reputability to some extent shapes our tastes, so that under its
guidance anything will be accepted as becoming until its novelty
wears off, or until the warrant of reputability is transferred to
a new and novel structure serving the same general purpose. That
the alleged beauty, or "loveliness," of the styles in vogue at
any given time is transient and spurious only is attested by the
fact that none of the many shifting fashions will bear the test
of time. When seen in the perspective of half-a-dozen years or
more, the best of our fashions strike us as grotesque, if not
unsightly. Our transient attachment to whatever happens to be the
latest rests on other than aesthetic grounds, and lasts only
until our abiding aesthetic sense has had time to assert itself
and reject this latest indigestible contrivance.

The process of developing an aesthetic nausea takes more or less
time; the length of time required in any given case being
inversely as the degree of intrinsic odiousness of the style in
question. This time relation between odiousness and instability
in fashions affords ground for the inference that the more
rapidly the styles succeed and displace one another, the more
offensive they are to sound taste. The presumption, therefore, is
that the farther the community, especially the wealthy classes of
the community, develop in wealth and mobility and in the range of
their human contact, the more imperatively will the law of
conspicuous waste assert itself in matters of dress, the more
will the sense of beauty tend to fall into abeyance or be
overborne by the canon of pecuniary reputability, the more
rapidly will fashions shift and change, and the more grotesque
and intolerable will be the varying styles that successively come
into vogue.

There remains at least one point in this theory of dress yet to
be discussed. Most of what has been said applies to men's attire
as well as to that of women; although in modern times it applies
at nearly all points with greater force to that of women. But at
one point the dress of women differs substantially from that of
men. In woman's dress there is obviously greater
insistence on such features as testify to the wearer's exemption
from or incapacity for all vulgarly productive employment. This
characteristic of woman's apparel is of interest, not only as
completing the theory of dress, but also as confirming what has
already been said of the economic status of women, both in the
past and in the present.

As has been seen in the discussion of woman's status under the
heads of Vicarious Leisure and Vicarious Consumption, it has in
the course of economic development become the office of the woman
to consume vicariously for the head of the household; and her
apparel is contrived with this object in view. It has come about
that obviously productive labor is in a peculiar degree
derogatory to respectable women, and therefore special pains
should be taken in the construction of women's dress, to impress
upon the beholder the fact (often indeed a fiction) that the
wearer does not and can not habitually engage in useful work.
Propriety requires respectable women to abstain more consistently
from useful effort and to make more of a show of leisure than the
men of the same social classes. It grates painfully on our nerves
to contemplate the necessity of any well-bred woman's earning a
livelihood by useful work. It is not "woman's sphere." Her sphere
is within the household, which she should "beautify," and of
which she should be the "chief ornament." The male head of the
household is not currently spoken of as its ornament. This
feature taken in conjunction with the other fact that propriety
requires more unremitting attention to expensive display in the
dress and other paraphernalia of women, goes to enforce the view
already implied in what has gone before. By virtue of its descent
from a patriarchal past, our social system makes it the woman's
function in an especial degree to put in evidence her household's
ability to pay. According to the modern civilized scheme of life,
the good name of the household to which she belongs should be the
special care of the woman; and the system of honorific
expenditure and conspicuous leisure by which this good name is
chiefly sustained is therefore the woman's sphere. In the ideal
scheme, as it tends to realize itself in the life of the higher
pecuniary classes, this attention to conspicuous waste of
substance and effort should normally be the sole economic
function of the woman.

At the stage of economic development at which the women were
still in the full sense the property of the men, the performance
of conspicuous leisure and consumption came to be part of the
services required of them. The women being not their own masters,
obvious expenditure and leisure on their part would redound to
the credit of their master rather than to their own credit; and
therefore the more expensive and the more obviously unproductive
the women of the household are, the more creditable and more
effective for the purpose of reputability of the household or its
head will their life be. So much so that the women have been
required not only to afford evidence of a life of leisure, but
even to disable themselves for useful activity.

It is at this point that the dress of men falls short of that of
women, and for sufficient reason. Conspicuous waste and
conspicuous leisure are reputable because they are evidence of
pecuniary strength; pecuniary strength is reputable or honorific
because, in the last analysis, it argues success and superior
force; therefore the evidence of waste and leisure put forth by
any individual in his own behalf cannot consistently take such a
form or be carried to such a pitch as to argue incapacity or
marked discomfort on his part; as the exhibition would in that
case show not superior force, but inferiority, and so defeat its
own purpose. So, then, wherever wasteful expenditure and the show
of abstention from effort is normally, or on an average, carried
to the extent of showing obvious discomfort or voluntarily
induced physical disability. There the immediate inference is
that the individual in question does not perform this wasteful
expenditure and undergo this disability for her own personal gain
in pecuniary repute, but in behalf of some one else to whom she
stands in a relation of economic dependence; a relation which in
the last analysis must, in economic theory, reduce itself to a
relation of servitude.

To apply this generalization to women's dress, and put the matter
in concrete terms: the high heel, the skirt, the
impracticable bonnet, the corset, and the general disregard of
the wearer's comfort which is an obvious feature of all civilized
women's apparel, are so many items of evidence to the effect that
in the modern civilized scheme of life the woman is still, in
theory, the economic dependent of the man -- that, perhaps in a
highly idealized sense, she still is the man's chattel. The
homely reason for all this conspicuous leisure and attire on the
part of women lies in the fact that they are servants to whom, in
the differentiation of economic functions, has been delegated the
office of putting in evidence their master's ability to pay.
There is a marked similarity in these respects between the
apparel of women and that of domestic servants, especially
liveried servants. In both there is a very elaborate show of
unnecessary expensiveness, and in both cases there is also a
notable disregard of the physical comfort of the wearer. But the
attire of the lady goes farther in its elaborate insistence on
the idleness, if not on the physical infirmity of the wearer,
than does that of the domestic. And this is as it should be; for
in theory, according to the ideal scheme of the pecuniary
culture, the lady of the house is the chief menial of the
household.

Besides servants, currently recognized as such, there is at least
one other class of persons whose garb assimilates them to the
class of servants and shows many of the features that go to make
up the womanliness of woman's dress. This is the priestly class.
Priestly vestments show, in accentuated form, all the features
that have been shown to be evidence of a servile status and a
vicarious life. Even more strikingly than the everyday habit of
the priest, the vestments, properly so called, are ornate,
grotesque, inconvenient, and, at least ostensibly, comfortless to
the point of distress. The priest is at the same time expected to
refrain from useful effort and, when before the public eye, to
present an impassively disconsolate countenance, very much after
the manner of a well-trained domestic servant. The shaven face of
the priest is a further item to the same effect. This
assimilation of the priestly class to the class of body servants,
in demeanor and apparel, is due to the similarity of the two
classes as regards economic function. In economic theory, the
priest is a body servant, constructively in
attendance upon the person of the divinity whose livery he wears.
His livery is of a very expensive character, as it should be in
order to set forth in a beseeming manner the dignity of his
exalted master; but it is contrived to show that the wearing of
it contributes little or nothing to the physical comfort of the
wearer, for it is an item of vicarious consumption, and the
repute which accrues from its consumption is to be imputed to the
absent master, not to the servant.

The line of demarcation between the dress of women, priests, and
servants, on the one hand, and of men, on the other hand, is not
always consistently observed in practice, but it will
scarcely be disputed that it is always present in a more or less
definite way in the popular habits of thought. There are of
course also free men, and not a few of them, who, in their blind
zeal for faultless reputable attire, transgress the theoretical
line between man's and woman's dress, to the extent of arraying
themselves in apparel that is obviously designed to vex the
mortal frame; but everyone recognizes without hesitation that
such apparel for men is a departure from the normal. We are in
the habit of saying that such dress is "effeminate"; and one
sometimes hears the remark that such or such an exquisitely
attired gentleman is as well dressed as a footman.

Certain apparent discrepancies under this theory of dress merit a
more detailed examination, especially as they mark a more or less
evident trend in the later and maturer development of dress. The
vogue of the corset offers an apparent exception from the rule of
which it has here been cited as an illustration. A closer
examination, however, will show that this apparent
exception is really a verification of the rule that the vogue of
any given element or feature in dress rests on its utility as an
evidence of pecuniary standing. It is well known that in the
industrially more advanced communities the corset is employed
only within certain fairly well defined social strata. The women
of the poorer classes, especially of the rural population, do not
habitually use it, except as a holiday luxury. Among these
classes the women have to work hard, and it avails them little in
the way of a pretense of leisure to so crucify the flesh in
everyday life. The holiday use of the contrivance is due to
imitation of a higher-class canon of decency. Upwards from this
low level of indigence and manual labor, the corset was until
within a generation or two nearly indispensable to a socially
blameless standing for all women, including the wealthiest and
most reputable. This rule held so long as there still was no
large class of people wealthy enough to be above the imputation
of any necessity for manual labor and at the same time large
enough to form a self-sufficient, isolated social body whose mass
would afford a foundation for special rules of conduct within the
class, enforced by the current opinion of the class alone. But
now there has grown up a large enough leisure class possessed of
such wealth that any aspersion on the score of enforced manual
employment would be idle and harmless calumny; and the corset has
therefore in large measure fallen into disuse within this class.
The exceptions under this rule of exemption from the corset are
more apparent than real. They are the wealthy classes of
countries with a lower industrial structure -- nearer the
archaic, quasi-industrial type -- together with the later
accessions of the wealthy classes in the more advanced industrial
communities. The latter have not yet had time to divest
themselves of the plebeian canons of taste and of reputability
carried over from their former, lower pecuniary grade. Such
survival of the corset is not infrequent among the higher social
classes of those American cities, for instance, which have
recently and rapidly risen into opulence. If the word be used as
a technical term, without any odious implication, it may be said
that the corset persists in great measure through the period of
snobbery -- the interval of uncertainty and of transition from a
lower to the upper levels of pecuniary culture. That is to say,
in all countries which have inherited the corset it continues in
use wherever and so long as it serves its purpose as an evidence
of honorific leisure by arguing physical disability in the
wearer. The same rule of course applies to other mutilations and
contrivances for decreasing the visible efficiency of the
individual.

Something similar should hold true with respect to divers items
of conspicuous consumption, and indeed something of the kind does
seem to hold to a slight degree of sundry features of dress,
especially if such features involve a marked discomfort or
appearance of discomfort to the wearer. During the past one
hundred years there is a tendency perceptible, in the development
of men's dress especially, to discontinue methods of expenditure
and the use of symbols of leisure which must have been irksome,
which may have served a good purpose in their time, but the
continuation of which among the upper classes today would be a
work of supererogation; as, for instance, the use of powdered
wigs and of gold lace, and the practice of constantly shaving the
face. There has of late years been some slight recrudescence of
the shaven face in polite society, but this is probably a
transient and unadvised mimicry of the fashion imposed upon body
servants, and it may fairly be expected to go the way of the
powdered wig of our grandfathers.

These indices and others which resemble them in point of the
boldness with which they point out to all observers the habitual
uselessness of those persons who employ them, have been replaced
by other, more dedicate methods of expressing the same fact;
methods which are no less evident to the trained eyes of that
smaller, select circle whose good opinion is chiefly sought. The
earlier and cruder method of advertisement held its ground so
long as the public to which the exhibitor had to appeal comprised
large portions of the community who were not trained to detect
delicate variations in the evidences of wealth and leisure. The
method of advertisement undergoes a refinement when a
sufficiently large wealthy class has developed, who have the
leisure for acquiring skill in interpreting the subtler signs of
expenditure. "Loud" dress becomes offensive to people of taste,
as evincing an undue desire to reach and impress the untrained
sensibilities of the vulgar. To the individual of high breeding,
it is only the more honorific esteem accorded by the cultivated
sense of the members of his own high class that is of material
consequence. Since the wealthy leisure class has grown so large,
or the contact of the leisure-class individual with members of
his own class has grown so wide, as to constitute a human
environment sufficient for the honorific purpose, there arises a
tendency to exclude the baser elements of the population from the
scheme even as spectators whose applause or mortification should
be sought. The result of all this is a refinement of methods, a
resort to subtler contrivances, and a spiritualization of the
scheme of symbolism in dress. And as this upper leisure class
sets the pace in all matters of decency, the result for the rest
of society also is a gradual amelioration of the scheme of dress.
As the community advances in wealth and culture, the ability to
pay is put in evidence by means which require a progressively
nicer discrimination in the beholder. This nicer discrimination
between advertising media is in fact a very large element of the
higher pecuniary culture.




Chapter Eight

Industrial Exemption and Conservatism

The life of man in society, just like the life of other species,
is a struggle for existence, and therefore it is a process of
selective adaptation. The evolution of social
structure has been a process of natural selection of
institutions. The progress which has been and is being made in
human institutions and in human character may be set down,
broadly, to a natural selection of the fittest habits of thought
and to a process of enforced adaptation of individuals to an
environment which has progressively changed with the growth of
the community and with the changing institutions under which men
have lived. Institutions are not only themselves the result of a
selective and adaptive process which shapes the prevailing or
dominant types of spiritual attitude and aptitudes; they are at
the same time special methods of life and of human relations, and
are therefore in their turn efficient factors of selection. So
that the changing institutions in their turn make for a further
selection of individuals endowed with the fittest temperament,
and a further adaptation of individual temperament and habits to
the changing environment through the formation of new
institutions.

 The forces which have shaped the development of human life and
of social structure are no doubt ultimately reducible to terms of
living tissue and material environment; but proximately for the
purpose in hand, these forces may best be stated in terms of an
environment, partly human, partly non-human, and a human subject
with a more or less definite physical and intellectual
constitution. Taken in the aggregate or average, this human
subject is more or less variable; chiefly, no doubt, under a rule
of selective conservation of favorable variations. The selection
of favorable variations is perhaps in great measure a selective
conservation of ethnic types. In the life history of any
community whose population is made up of a mixture of divers
ethnic elements, one or another of several persistent and
relatively stable types of body and of temperament rises into
dominance at any given point. The situation, including the
institutions in force at any given time, will favor the survival
and dominance of one type of character in preference to another;
and the type of man so selected to continue and to further
elaborate the institutions handed down from the past will in some
considerable measure shape these institutions in his own
likeness. But apart from selection as between relatively stable
types of character and habits of mind, there is no doubt
simultaneously going on a process of selective adaptation of
habits of thought within the general range of aptitudes which is
characteristic of the dominant ethnic type or types. There may be
a variation in the fundamental character of any population by
selection between relatively stable types; but there is also a
variation due to adaptation in detail within the range of the
type, and to selection between specific habitual views regarding
any given social relation or group of relations.

 For the present purpose, however, the question as to the nature
of the adaptive process -- whether it is chiefly a
selection between stable types of temperament and character, or
chiefly an adaptation of men's habits of thought to changing
circumstances -- is of less importance than the fact that, by one
method or another, institutions change and develop. Institutions
must change with changing circumstances, since they are of the
nature of an habitual method of responding to the stimuli which
these changing circumstances afford. The development of these
institutions is the development of society. The institutions are,
in substance, prevalent habits of thought with respect to
particular relations and particular functions of the individual
and of the community; and the scheme of life, which is made up of
the aggregate of institutions in force at a given time or at a
given point in the development of any society, may, on the
psychological side, be broadly characterized as a prevalent
spiritual attitude or a prevalent theory of life. As regards its
generic features, this spiritual attitude or theory of life is in
the last analysis reducible to terms of a prevalent type of
character.

 The situation of today shapes the institutions of tomorrow
through a selective, coercive process, by acting upon men's
habitual view of things, and so altering or fortifying a point of
view or a mental attitude banded down from the past. The
institutions -- that is to say the habits of thought -- under the
guidance of which men live are in this way received from an
earlier time; more or less remotely earlier, but in any event
they have been elaborated in and received from the past.
Institutions are products of the past process, are adapted to
past circumstances, and are therefore never in full accord with
the requirements of the present. In the nature of the case, this
process of selective adaptation can never catch up with the
progressively changing situation in which the community finds
itself at any given time; for the environment, the situation, the
exigencies of life which enforce the adaptation and exercise the
selection, change from day to day; and each successive situation
of the community in its turn tends to obsolescence as soon as it
has been established. When a step in the development has been
taken, this step itself constitutes a change of situation which
requires a new adaptation; it becomes the point of departure for
a new step in the adjustment, and so on interminably.

 It is to be noted then, although it may be a tedious truism,
that the institutions of today -- the present accepted scheme of
life -- do not entirely fit the situation of today. At the same
time, men's present habits of thought tend to persist
indefinitely, except as circumstances enforce a change. These
institutions which have thus been handed down, these habits of
thought, points of view, mental attitudes and aptitudes, or what
not, are therefore themselves a conservative factor. This is the
factor of social inertia, psychological inertia, conservatism.
Social structure changes, develops, adapts itself to an altered
situation, only through a change in the habits of thought of the
several classes of the community, or in the last analysis,
through a change in the habits of thought of the individuals
which make up the community. The evolution of society is
substantially a process of mental adaptation on the part of
individuals under the stress of circumstances which will no
longer tolerate habits of thought formed under and conforming to
a different set of circumstances in the past. For the immediate
purpose it need not be a question of serious importance whether
this adaptive process is a process of selection and survival of
persistent ethnic types or a process of individual adaptation and
an inheritance of acquired traits.

 Social advance, especially as seen from the point of view of
economic theory, consists in a continued progressive approach to
an approximately exact "adjustment of inner relations to outer
relations", but this adjustment is never definitively
established, since the "outer relations" are subject to constant
change as a consequence of the progressive change going on in the
"inner relations." But the degree of approximation may be
greater or less, depending on the facility with which an
adjustment is made. A readjustment of men's habits of thought to
conform with the exigencies of an altered situation is in any
case made only tardily and reluctantly, and only under the
coercion exercised by a stipulation which has made the accredited
views untenable. The readjustment of institutions and habitual
views to an altered environment is made in response to pressure
from without; it is of the nature of a response to stimulus.
Freedom and facility of readjustment, that is to say capacity for
growth in social structure, therefore depends in great measure on
the degree of freedom with which the situation at any given time
acts on the individual members of the community-the degree of
exposure of the individual members to the constraining forces of
the environment. If any portion or class of society is sheltered
from the action of the environment in any essential respect, that
portion of the community, or that class, will adapt its views and
its scheme of life more tardily to the altered general situation;
it will in so far tend to retard the process of social
transformation. The wealthy leisure class is in such a sheltered
position with respect to the economic forces that make for change
and readjustment. And it may be said that the forces which make
for a readjustment of institutions, especially in the case of a
modern industrial community, are, in the last analysis, almost
entirely of an economic nature.

 Any community may be viewed as an industrial or economic
mechanism, the structure of which is made up of what is called
its economic institutions. These institutions are habitual
methods of carrying on the life process of the community in
contact with the material environment in which it lives. When
given methods of unfolding human activity in this given
environment have been elaborated in this way, the life of the
community will express itself with some facility in these
habitual directions. The community will make use of the forces of
the environment for the purposes of its life according to methods
learned in the past and embodied in these institutions. But as
population increases, and as men's knowledge and skill in
directing the forces of nature widen, the habitual methods of
relation between the members of the group, and the habitual
method of carrying on the life process of the group as a whole,
no longer give the same result as before; nor are the resulting
conditions of life distributed and apportioned in the same manner
or with the same effect among the various members as before. If
the scheme according to which the life process of the group was
carried on under the earlier conditions gave approximately the
highest attainable result -- under the circumstances -- in the
way of efficiency or facility of the life process of the group;
then the same scheme of life unaltered will not yield the highest
result attainable in this respect under the altered conditions.
Under the altered conditions of population, skill, and knowledge,
the facility of life as carried on according to the traditional
scheme may not be lower than under the earlier conditions; but
the chances are always that it is less than might be if the
scheme were altered to suit the altered conditions.

 The group is made up of individuals, and the group's life is the
life of individuals carried on in at least ostensible
severalty. The group's accepted scheme of life is the consensus
of views held by the body of these individuals as to what is
right, good, expedient, and beautiful in the way of human life.
In the redistribution of the conditions of life that comes of the
altered method of dealing with the environment, the outcome is
not an equable change in the facility of life throughout the
group. The altered conditions may increase the facility of life
for the group as a whole, but the redistribution will usually
result in a decrease of facility or fullness of life for some
members of the group. An advance in technical methods, in
population, or in industrial organization will require at least
some of the members of the community to change their habits of
life, if they are to enter with facility and effect into the
altered industrial methods; and in doing so they will be unable
to live up to the received notions as to what are the right and
beautiful habits of life.

 Any one who is required to change his habits of life and his
habitual relations to his fellow men will feel the discrepancy
between the method of life required of him by the newly arisen
exigencies, and the traditional scheme of life to which he is
accustomed. It is the individuals placed in this position who
have the liveliest incentive to reconstruct the received scheme
of life and are most readily persuaded to accept new standards;
and it is through the need of the means of livelihood that men
are placed in such a position. The pressure exerted by the
environment upon the group, and making for a readjustment of the
group's scheme of life, impinges upon the members of the group in
the form of pecuniary exigencies; and it is owing to this fact --
that external forces are in great part translated into the form
of pecuniary or economic exigencies -- it is owing to this fact
that we can say that the forces which count toward a readjustment
of institutions in any modern industrial community are chiefly
economic forces; or more specifically, these forces take the form
of pecuniary pressure. Such a readjustment as is here
contemplated is substantially a change in men's views as to what
is good and right, and the means through which a change is
wrought in men's apprehension of what is good and right is in
large part the pressure of pecuniary exigencies.

 Any change in men's views as to what is good and right in human
life make its way but tardily at the best. Especially is this
true of any change in the direction of what is called progress;
that is to say, in the direction of divergence from the archaic
position -- from the position which may be accounted the point of
departure at any step in the social evolution of the community.
Retrogression, reapproach to a standpoint to which the race has
been long habituated in the past, is easier. This is especially
true in case the development away from this past standpoint has
not been due chiefly to a substitution of an ethnic type whose
temperament is alien to the earlier standpoint.
The cultural stage which lies immediately back of the present in
the life history of Western civilization is what has here been
called the quasi-peaceable stage. At this quasi-peaceable stage
the law of status is the dominant feature in the scheme of life.
There is no need of pointing out how prone the men of today are
to revert to the spiritual attitude of mastery and of personal
subservience which characterizes that stage. It may rather be
said to be held in an uncertain abeyance by the economic
exigencies of today, than to have been definitely supplanted by a
habit of mind that is in full accord with these later-developed
exigencies. The predatory and quasi-peaceable stages of economic
evolution seem to have been of long duration in life history of
all the chief ethnic elements which go to make up the populations
of the Western culture. The temperament and the propensities
proper to those cultural stages have, therefore, attained such a
persistence as to make a speedy reversion to the broad features
of the corresponding psychological constitution inevitable in the
case of any class or community which is removed from the action
of those forces that make for a maintenance of the
later-developed habits of thought.

 It is a matter of common notoriety that when individuals, or
even considerable groups of men, are segregated from a higher
industrial culture and exposed to a lower cultural environment,
or to an economic situation of a more primitive character, they
quickly show evidence of reversion toward the spiritual features
which characterize the predatory type; and it seems probable that
the dolicho-blond type of European man is possessed of a greater
facility for such reversion to barbarism than the other ethnic
elements with which that type is associated in the Western
culture. Examples of such a reversion on a small scale abound in
the later history of migration and colonization. Except for the
fear of offending that chauvinistic patriotism which is so
characteristic a feature of the predatory culture, and the
presence of which is frequently the most striking mark of
reversion in modern communities, the case of the American
colonies might be cited as an example of such a reversion on an
unusually large scale, though it was not a reversion of very
large scope.

 The leisure class is in great measure sheltered from
the stress of those economic exigencies which prevail in any
modern, highly organized industrial community. The exigencies of
the struggle for the means of life are less exacting for this
class than for any other; and as a consequence of this privileged
position we should expect to find it one of the least responsive
of the classes of society to the demands which the situation
makes for a further growth of institutions and a readjustment to
an altered industrial situation. The leisure class is the
conservative class. The exigencies of the general economic
situation of the community do not freely or directly impinge upon
the members of this class. They are not required under penalty of
forfeiture to change their habits of life and their theoretical
views of the external world to suit the demands of an altered
industrial technique, since they are not in the full sense an
organic part of the industrial community. Therefore these
exigencies do not readily produce, in the members of this class,
that degree of uneasiness with the existing order which alone can
lead any body of men to give up views and methods of life that
have become habitual to them. The office of the leisure class in
social evolution is to retard the movement and to conserve what
is obsolescent. This proposition is by no means novel; it has
long been one of the commonplaces of popular opinion.

 The prevalent conviction that the wealthy class is by nature
conservative has been popularly accepted without much aid from
any theoretical view as to the place and relation of that class
in the cultural development. When an explanation of this class
conservatism is offered, it is commonly the invidious one that
the wealthy class opposes innovation because it has a vested
interest, of an unworthy sort, in maintaining the present
conditions. The explanation here put forward imputes no unworthy
motive. The opposition of the class to changes in the cultural
scheme is instinctive, and does not rest primarily on an
interested calculation of material advantages; it is an
instinctive revulsion at any departure from the accepted way of
doing and of looking at things -- a revulsion common to all men
and only to be overcome by stress of circumstances. All change in
habits of life and of thought is irksome. The difference in this
respect between the wealthy and the common run of mankind lies
not so much in the motive which prompts to conservatism as in the
degree of exposure to the economic forces that urge a change. The
members of the wealthy class do not yield to the demand for
innovation as readily as other men because they are not
constrained to do so.

 This conservatism of the wealthy class is so obvious a feature
that it has even come to be recognized as a mark of
respectability. Since conservatism is a characteristic of the
wealthier and therefore more reputable portion of the community,
it has acquired a certain honorific or decorative value. It has
become prescriptive to such an extent that an adherence to
conservative views is comprised as a matter of course in our
notions of respectability; and it is imperatively incumbent on
all who would lead a blameless life in point of social repute.
Conservatism, being an upper-class characteristic, is decorous;
and conversely, innovation, being a lower-class phenomenon, is
vulgar. The first and most unreflected element in that
instinctive revulsion and reprobation with which we turn from all
social innovators is this sense of the essential vulgarity of the
thing. So that even in cases where one recognizes the substantial
merits of the case for which the innovator is spokesman -- as may
easily happen if the evils which he seeks to remedy are
sufficiently remote in point of time or space or personal contact
-- still one cannot but be sensible of the fact that the
innovator is a person with whom it is at least distasteful to be
associated, and from whose social contact one must shrink.
Innovation is bad form.

The fact that the usages, actions, and views of the
well-to-do leisure class acquire the character of a prescriptive
canon of conduct for the rest of society, gives added weight and
reach to the conservative influence of that class. It makes it
incumbent upon all reputable people to follow their lead. So
that, by virtue of its high position as the avatar of good form,
the wealthier class comes to exert a retarding influence upon
social development far in excess of that which the simple
numerical strength of the class would assign it. Its prescriptive
example acts to greatly stiffen the resistance of all other
classes against any innovation, and to fix men's affections upon
the good institutions handed down from an earlier generation.
There is a second way in which the influence of the leisure class
acts in the same direction, so far as concerns hindrance to the
adoption of a conventional scheme of life more in accord with the
exigencies of the time. This second method of upper-class guidance
is not in strict consistency to be brought under the same
category as the instinctive conservatism and aversion to new
modes of thought just spoken of; but it may as well be dealt with
here, since it has at least this much in common with the
conservative habit of mind that it acts to retard innovation and
the growth of social structure. The code of proprieties,
conventionalities, and usages in vogue at any given time and
among any given people has more or less of the character of an
organic whole; so that any appreciable change in one point of the
scheme involves something of a change or readjustment at other
points also, if not a reorganization all along the line. When a
change is made which immediately touches only a minor point in
the scheme, the consequent derangement of the structure of
conventionalities may be inconspicuous; but even in such a case
it is safe to say that some derangement of the general scheme,
more or less far-reaching, will follow. On the other hand, when
an attempted reform involves the suppression or thorough-going
remodelling of an institution of first-rate importance in the
conventional scheme, it is immediately felt that a serious
derangement of the entire scheme would result; it is felt that a
readjustment of the structure to the new form taken on by one of
its chief elements would be a painful and tedious, if not a
doubtful process.

In order to realize the difficulty which such a radical change in
any one feature of the conventional scheme of life would involve,
it is only necessary to suggest the suppression of the monogamic
family, or of the agnatic system of consanguinity, or of private
property, or of the theistic faith, in any country of the Western
civilization; or suppose the suppression of ancestor worship in
China, or of the caste system in india, or of slavery in Africa,
or the establishment of equality of the sexes in Mohammedan
countries. It needs no argument to show that the derangement of
the general structure of conventionalities in any of these cases
would be very considerable. In order to effect such an innovation
a very far-reaching alteration of men's habits of thought would
be involved also at other points of the scheme than the one
immediately in question. The aversion to any such innovation
amounts to a shrinking from an essentially alien scheme of life.

The revulsion felt by good people at any proposed departure from
the accepted methods of life is a familiar fact of everyday
experience. It is not unusual to hear those persons who dispense
salutary advice and admonition to the community express
themselves forcibly upon the far-reaching pernicious effects
which the community would suffer from such relatively slight
changes as the disestablishment of the Anglican Church, an
increased facility of divorce, adoption of female suffrage,
prohibition of the manufacture and sale of intoxicating
beverages, abolition or restriction of inheritances, etc. Any one
of these innovations would, we are told, "shake the social
structure to its base," "reduce society to chaos," "subvert the
foundations of morality," "make life intolerable," "confound the
order of nature," etc. These various locutions are, no doubt, of
the nature of hyperbole; but, at the same time, like all
overstatement, they are evidence of a lively sense of the gravity
of the consequences which they are intended to describe. The
effect of these and like innovations in deranging the accepted
scheme of life is felt to be of much graver consequence than the
simple alteration of an isolated item in a series of contrivances
for the convenience of men in society. What is true in so obvious
a degree of innovations of first-rate importance is true in a
less degree of changes of a smaller immediate importance. The
aversion to change is in large part an aversion to the bother of
making the readjustment which any given change will necessitate;
and this solidarity of the system of institutions of any given
culture or of any given people strengthens the instinctive
resistance offered to any change in men's habits of thought, even
in matters which, taken by themselves, are of minor importance.
A consequence of this increased reluctance, due to the
solidarity of human institutions, is that any innovation calls
for a greater expenditure of nervous energy in making the
necessary readjustment than would otherwise be the case. It is
not only that a change in established habits of thought is
distasteful. The process of readjustment of the accepted theory
of life involves a degree of mental effort -- a more or less
protracted and laborious effort to find and to keep one's
bearings under the altered circumstances. This process requires a
certain expenditure of energy, and so presumes, for its
successful accomplishment, some surplus of energy beyond that
absorbed in the daily struggle for subsistence. Consequently it
follows that progress is hindered by underfeeding and excessive
physical hardship, no less effectually than by such a luxurious
life as will shut out discontent by cutting off the occasion for
it. The abjectly poor, and all those persons whose energies are
entirely absorbed by the struggle for daily sustenance, are
conservative because they cannot afford the effort of taking
thought for the day after tomorrow; just as the highly prosperous
are conservative because they have small occasion to be
discontented with the situation as it stands today.

From this proposition it follows that the institution of a
leisure class acts to make the lower classes conservative by
withdrawing from them as much as it may of the means of
sustenance, and so reducing their consumption, and consequently
their available energy, to such a point as to make them incapable
of the effort required for the learning and adoption of new
habits of thought. The accumulation of wealth at the upper end of
the pecuniary scale implies privation at the lower end of the
scale. It is a commonplace that, wherever it occurs, a
considerable degree of privation among the body of the people is
a serious obstacle to any innovation.

This direct inhibitory effect of the unequal distribution of
wealth is seconded by an indirect effect tending to the same
result. As has already been seen, the imperative example set by
the upper class in fixing the canons of reputability fosters the
practice of conspicuous consumption. The prevalence of
conspicuous consumption as one of the main elements in the
standard of decency among all classes is of course not traceable
wholly to the example of the wealthy leisure class, but the
practice and the insistence on it are no doubt strengthened by
the example of the leisure class. The requirements of decency in
this matter are very considerable and very imperative; so that
even among classes whose pecuniary position is sufficiently
strong to admit a consumption of goods considerably in excess of
the subsistence minimum, the disposable surplus left over after
the more imperative physical needs are satisfied is not
infrequently diverted to the purpose of a conspicuous decency,
rather than to added physical comfort and fullness of life.
Moreover, such surplus energy as is available is also likely to
be expended in the acquisition of goods for conspicuous
consumption or conspicuous boarding. The result is that the
requirements of pecuniary reputability tend (1) to leave but a
scanty subsistence minimum available for other than conspicuous
consumption, and (2) to absorb any surplus energy which may be
available after the bare physical necessities of life have been
provided for. The outcome of the whole is a strengthening of the
general conservative attitude of the community. The institution
of a leisure class hinders cultural development immediately (1)
by the inertia proper to the class itself, (2) through its
prescriptive example of conspicuous waste and of conservatism,
and (3) indirectly through that system of unequal distribution of
wealth and sustenance on which the institution itself rests.
To this is to be added that the leisure class has also a material
interest in leaving things as they are. Under the circumstances
prevailing at any given time this class is in a privileged
position, and any departure from the existing order may be
expected to work to the detriment of the class rather than the
reverse. The attitude of the class, simply as influenced by its
class interest, should therefore be to let well-enough alone.
This interested motive comes in to supplement the strong
instinctive bias of the class, and so to render it even more
consistently conservative than it otherwise would be.

All this, of course, has nothing to say in the way of eulogy or
deprecation of the office of the leisure class as an exponent and
vehicle of conservatism or reversion in social structure. The
inhibition which it exercises may be salutary or the reverse.
Wether it is the one or the other in any given case is a question
of casuistry rather than of general theory. There may be truth in
the view (as a question of policy) so often expressed by the
spokesmen of the conservative element, that without some such
substantial and consistent resistance to innovation as is offered
by the conservative well-to-do classes, social innovation and
experiment would hurry the community into untenable and
intolerable situations; the only possible result of which would
be discontent and disastrous reaction. All this, however, is
beside the present argument.

But apart from all deprecation, and aside from all question as to
the indispensability of some such check on headlong innovation,
the leisure class, in the nature of things, consistently acts to
retard that adjustment to the environment which is called social
advance or development. The characteristic attitude of the class
may be summed up in the maxim: "Whatever is, is right" whereas
the law of natural selection, as applied to human institutions,
gives the axiom: "Whatever is, is wrong." Not that the
institutions of today are wholly wrong for the purposes of the
life of today, but they are, always and in the nature of things,
wrong to some extent. They are the result of a more or less
inadequate adjustment of the methods of living to a situation
which prevailed at some point in the past development; and they
are therefore wrong by something more than the interval which
separates the present situation from that of the past. "Right"
and "wrong" are of course here used without conveying any
rejection as to what ought or ought not to be. They are applied
simply from the (morally colorless) evolutionary standpoint, and
are intended to designate compatibility or incompatibility with
the effective evolutionary process. The institution of a leisure
class, by force or class interest and instinct, and by precept
and prescriptive example, makes for the perpetuation of the
existing maladjustment of institutions, and even favors a
reversion to a somewhat more archaic scheme of life; a scheme
which would be still farther out of adjustment with the
exigencies of life under the existing situation even than the
accredited, obsolescent scheme that has come down from the
immediate past.

But after all has been said on the head of conservation of the
good old ways, it remains true that institutions change and
develop. There is a cumulative growth of customs and habits of
thought; a selective adaptation of conventions and methods of
life. Something is to be said of the office of the leisure class
in guiding this growth as well as in retarding it; but little can
be said here of its relation to institutional growth except as it
touches the institutions that are primarily and immediately of an
economic character. These institutions -- the economic structure
-- may be roughly distinguished into two classes or categories,
according as they serve one or the other of two divergent
purposes of economic life.

To adapt the classical terminology, they are institutions of
acquisition or of production; or to revert to terms already
employed in a different connection in earlier chapters, they are
pecuniary or industrial institutions; or in still other terms,
they are institutions serving either the invidious or the
non-invidious economic interest. The former category have to do
with "business," the latter with industry, taking the latter word
in the mechanical sense. The latter class are not often
recognized as institutions, in great part because they do not
immediately concern the ruling class, and are, therefore, seldom
the subject of legislation or of deliberate convention. When they
do receive attention they are commonly approached from the
pecuniary or business side; that being the side or phase of
economic life that chiefly occupies men's deliberations in our
time, especially the deliberations of the upper classes. These
classes have little else than a business interest in things
economic, and on them at the same time it is chiefly incumbent to
deliberate upon the community's affairs.

The relation of the leisure (that is, propertied non-industrial)
class to the economic process is a pecuniary relation -- a
relation of acquisition, not of production; of exploitation, not
of serviceability. Indirectly their economic office may, of
course, be of the utmost importance to the economic life process;
and it is by no means here intended to depreciate the economic
function of the propertied class or of the captains of industry.
The purpose is simply to point out what is the nature of the
relation of these classes to the industrial process and to
economic institutions. Their office is of a parasitic character,
and their interest is to divert what substance they may to their
own use, and to retain whatever is under their hand. The
conventions of the business world have grown up under the
selective surveillance of this principle of predation or
parasitism. They are conventions of ownership; derivatives, more
or less remote, of the ancient predatory culture. But these
pecuniary institutions do not entirely fit the situation of
today, for they have grown up under a past situation differing
somewhat from the present. Even for effectiveness in the
pecuniary way, therefore, they are not as apt as might be. The
changed industrial life requires changed methods of acquisition;
and the pecuniary classes have some interest in so adapting the
pecuniary institutions as to give them the best effect for
acquisition of private gain that is compatible with the
continuance of the industrial process out of which this gain
arises. Hence there is a more or less consistent trend in the
leisure-class guidance of institutional growth, answering to the
pecuniary ends which shape leisure-class economic life.

The effect of the pecuniary interest and the pecuniary habit of
mind upon the growth of institutions is seen in those
enactments and conventions that make for security of property,
enforcement of contracts, facility of pecuniary transactions,
vested interests. Of such bearing are changes affecting
bankruptcy and receiverships, limited liability, banking and
currency, coalitions of laborers or employers, trusts and pools.
The community's institutional furniture of this kind is of
immediate consequence only to the propertied classes, and in
proportion as they are propertied; that is to say, in proportion
as they are to be ranked with the leisure class. But indirectly
these conventions of business life are of the gravest consequence
for the industrial process and for the life of the community. And
in guiding the institutional growth in this respect, the
pecuniary classes, therefore, serve a purpose of the most serious
importance to the community, not only in the conservation of the
accepted social scheme, but also in shaping the industrial
process proper. The immediate end of this pecuniary institutional
structure and of its amelioration is the greater facility of
peaceable and orderly exploitation; but its remoter effects far
outrun this immediate object. Not only does the more facile
conduct of business permit industry and extra-industrial life to
go on with less perturbation; but the resulting elimination of
disturbances and complications calling for an exercise of astute
discrimination in everyday affairs acts to make the pecuniary
class itself superfluous. As fast as pecuniary transactions are
reduced to routine, the captain of industry can be dispensed
with. This consummation, it is needless to say, lies yet in the
indefinite future. The ameliorations wrought in favor of the
pecuniary interest in modern institutions tend, in another field,
to substitute the "soulless" joint-stock corporation for the
captain, and so they make also for the dispensability, of the
great leisure-class function of ownership. Indirectly, therefore,
the bent given to the growth of economic institutions by the
leisure-class influence is of very considerable industrial
consequence.




Chapter Nine

The Conservation of Archaic Traits

The institution of a leisure class has an effect not only upon
social structure but also upon the individual character of the
members of society. So soon as a given proclivity or a given
point of view has won acceptance as an authoritative standard or
norm of life it will react upon the character of the members of
the society which has accepted it as a norm. It will to some
extent shape their habits of thought and will exercise a
selective surveillance over the development of men's aptitudes
and inclinations. This effect is wrought partly by a coercive,
educational adaptation of the habits of all individuals, partly
by a selective elimination of the unfit individuals and lines of
descent. Such human material as does not lend itself to the
methods of life imposed by the accepted scheme suffers more or
less elimination as well as repression. The principles of
pecuniary emulation and of industrial exemption have in this way
been erected into canons of life, and have become coercive
factors of some importance in the situation to which men have to
adapt themselves.

These two broad principles of conspicuous waste and
industrial exemption affect the cultural development both by
guiding men's habits of thought, and so controlling the growth of
institutions, and by selectively conserving certain traits of
human nature that conduce to facility of life under the
leisure-class scheme, and so controlling the effective temper of
the community. The proximate tendency of the institution of a
leisure class in shaping human character runs in the direction of
spiritual survival and reversion. Its effect upon the temper of a
community is of the nature of an arrested spiritual development.
In the later culture especially, the institution has, on the
whole, a conservative trend. This proposition is familiar enough
in substance, but it may to many have the appearance of novelty
in its present application. Therefore a summary review of its
logical grounds may not be uncalled for, even at the risk of some
tedious repetition and formulation of commonplaces.

Social evolution is a process of selective adaptation of
temperament and habits of thought under the stress of the
circumstances of associated life. The adaptation of habits of
thought is the growth of institutions. But along with the growth
of institutions has gone a change of a more substantial
character. Not only have the habits of men changed with the
changing exigencies of the situation, but these changing
exigencies have also brought about a correlative change in human
nature. The human material of society itself varies with the
changing conditions of life. This variation of human nature is
held by the later ethnologists to be a process of selection
between several relatively stable and persistent ethnic types or
ethnic elements. Men tend to revert or to breed true, more or
less closely, to one or another of certain types of human nature
that have in their main features been fixed in approximate
conformity to a situation in the past which differed from the
situation of today. There are several of these relatively stable
ethnic types of mankind comprised in the populations of the
Western culture. These ethnic types survive in the race
inheritance today, not as rigid and invariable moulds, each of a
single precise and specific pattern, but in the form of a greater
or smaller number of variants. Some variation of the ethnic types
has resulted under the protracted selective process to which the
several types and their hybrids have been subjected during the
prehistoric and historic growth of culture.

This necessary variation of the types themselves, due to a
selective process of considerable duration and of a consistent
trend, has not been sufficiently noticed by the writers who have
discussed ethnic survival. The argument is here concerned with
two main divergent variants of human nature resulting from this,
relatively late, selective adaptation of the ethnic types
comprised in the Western culture; the point of interest being the
probable effect of the situation of today in furthering variation
along one or the other of these two divergent lines.

The ethnological position may be briefly summed up; and in order
to avoid any but the most indispensable detail the schedule of
types and variants and the scheme of reversion and survival in
which they are concerned are here presented with a diagrammatic
meagerness and simplicity which would not be admissible for any
other purpose. The man of our industrial communities tends to
breed true to one or the other of three main ethic types; the
dolichocephalic-blond, the brachycephalic-brunette, and the
Mediterranean -- disregarding minor and outlying elements of our
culture. But within each of these main ethnic types the reversion
tends to one or the other of at least two main directions of
variation; the peaceable or antepredatory variant and the
predatory variant. The former of these two characteristic
variants is nearer to the generic type in each case, being the
reversional representative of its type as it stood at the
earliest stage of associated life of which there is available
evidence, either archaeological or psychological. This variant is
taken to represent the ancestors of existing civilized man at the
peaceable, savage phase of life which preceded the predatory
culture, the regime of status, and the growth of pecuniary
emulation. The second or predatory variant of the types is taken
to be a survival of a more recent modification of the main ethnic
types and their hybrids -- of these types as they were modified,
mainly by a selective adaptation, under the discipline of the
predatory culture and the latter emulative culture of the
quasi-peaceable stage, or the pecuniary culture proper.

Under the recognized laws of heredity there may be a survival
from a more or less remote past phase. In the ordinary, average,
or normal case, if the type has varied, the traits of the type
are transmitted approximately as they have stood in the recent
past -- which may be called the hereditary present. For the
purpose in hand this hereditary present is represented by the
later predatory and the quasi-peaceable culture.

It is to the variant of human nature which is characteristic of
this recent -- hereditarily still existing -- predatory or
quasi-predatory culture that the modern civilized man tends to
breed true in the common run of cases. This proposition requires
some qualification so far as concerns the descendants of the
servile or repressed classes of barbarian times, but the
qualification necessary is probably not so great as might at
first thought appear. Taking the population as a whole, this
predatory, emulative variant does not seem to have attained a
high degree of consistency or stability. That is to say, the
human nature inherited by modern Occidental man is not nearly
uniform in respect of the range or the relative strength of the
various aptitudes and propensities which go to make it up. The
man of the hereditary present is slightly archaic as judged for
the purposes of the latest exigencies of associated life. And the
type to which the modern man chiefly tends to revert under the
law of variation is a somewhat more archaic human nature. On the
other hand, to judge by the reversional traits which show
themselves in individuals that vary from the prevailing predatory
style of temperament, the ante-predatory variant seems to have a
greater stability and greater symmetry in the distribution or
relative force of its temperamental elements.

This divergence of inherited human nature, as between an earlier
and a later variant of the ethnic type to which the individual
tends to breed true, is traversed and obscured by a similar
divergence between the two or three main ethnic types that go to
make up the Occidental populations. The individuals in these
communities are conceived to be, in virtually every
instance, hybrids of the prevailing ethnic elements combined in
the most varied proportions; with the result that they tend to
take back to one or the other of the component ethnic types.
These ethnic types differ in temperament in a way somewhat
similar to the difference between the predatory and the
antepredatory variants of the types; the dolicho-blond type
showing more of the characteristics of the predatory temperament
-- or at least more of the violent disposition -- than the
brachycephalic-brunette type, and especially more than the
Mediterranean. When the growth of institutions or of the
effective sentiment of a given community shows a divergence from
the predatory human nature, therefore, it is impossible to say
with certainty that such a divergence indicates a reversion to
the ante-predatory variant. It may be due to an increasing
dominance of the one or the other of the "lower" ethnic elements
in the population. Still, although the evidence is not as
conclusive as might be desired, there are indications that the
variations in the effective temperament of modern communities is
not altogether due to a selection between stable ethnic types. It
seems to be to some appreciable extent a selection between the
predatory and the peaceable variants of the several types.
This conception of contemporary human evolution is not
indispensable to the discussion. The general conclusions reached
by the use of these concepts of selective adaptation would remain
substantially true if the earlier, Darwinian and Spencerian,
terms and concepts were substituted. Under the circumstances,
some latitude may be admissible in the use of terms. The word
"type" is used loosely, to denote variations of temperament which
the ethnologists would perhaps recognize only as trivial variants
of the type rather than as distinct ethnic types. Wherever a
closer discrimination seems essential to the argument, the effort
to make such a closer discrimination will be evident from the
context.

The ethnic types of today, then, are variants of the
primitive racial types. They have suffered some alteration, and
have attained some degree of fixity in their altered form, under
the discipline of the barbarian culture. The man of the
hereditary present is the barbarian variant, servile or
aristocratic, of the ethnic elements that constitute him. But
this barbarian variant has not attained the highest degree of
homogeneity or of stability. The barbarian culture -- the
predatory and quasi-peaceable cultural stages -- though of great
absolute duration, has been neither protracted enough nor
invariable enough in character to give an extreme fixity of type.
Variations from the barbarian human nature occur with some
frequency, and these cases of variation are becoming more
noticeable today, because the conditions of modern life no longer
act consistently to repress departures from the barbarian normal.
The predatory temperament does not lead itself to all the
purposes of modern life, and more especially not to modern
industry.

Departures from the human nature of the hereditary present are
most frequently of the nature of reversions to an earlier variant
of the type. This earlier variant is represented by the
temperament which characterizes the primitive phase of peaceable
savagery. The circumstances of life and the ends of effort that
prevailed before the advent of the barbarian culture, shaped
human nature and fixed it as regards certain fundamental traits.
And it is to these ancient, generic features that modern men are
prone to take back in case of variation from the human nature of
the hereditary present. The conditions under which men lived in
the most primitive stages of associated life that can properly be
called human, seem to have been of a peaceful kind; and the
character -- the temperament and spiritual attitude of men under
these early conditions or environment and institutions seems to
have been of a peaceful and unaggressive, not to say an indolent,
cast. For the immediate purpose this peaceable cultural stage may
be taken to mark the initial phase of social development. So far
as concerns the present argument, the dominant spiritual feature
of this presumptive initial phase of culture seems to have been
an unreflecting, unformulated sense of group solidarity, largely
expressing itself in a complacent, but by no means strenuous,
sympathy with all facility of human life, and an uneasy revulsion
against apprehended inhibition or futility of life. Through its
ubiquitous presence in the habits of thought of the
ante-predatory savage man, this pervading but uneager sense of
the generically useful seems to have exercised an appreciable
constraining force upon his life and upon the manner of his
habitual contact with other members of the group.

The traces of this initial, undifferentiated peaceable phase of
culture seem faint and doubtful if we look merely to such
categorical evidence of its existence as is afforded by usages
and views in vogue within the historical present, whether in
civilized or in rude communities; but less dubious evidence of
its existence is to be found in psychological survivals, in the
way of persistent and pervading traits of human character. These
traits survive perhaps in an especial degree among those ethic
elements which were crowded into the background during the
predatory culture. Traits that were suited to the earlier habits
of life then became relatively useless in the individual struggle
for existence. And those elements of the population, or those
ethnic groups, which were by temperament less fitted to the
predatory life were repressed and pushed into the background.
On the transition to the predatory culture the character of the
struggle for existence changed in some degree from a struggle of
the group against a non-human environment to a struggle against a
human environment. This change was accompanied by an increasing
antagonism and consciousness of antagonism between the individual
members of the group. The conditions of success within the group,
as well as the conditions of the survival of the group, changed
in some measure; and the dominant spiritual attitude for the
group gradually changed, and brought a different range of
aptitudes and propensities into the position of legitimate
dominance in the accepted scheme of life. Among these archaic
traits that are to be regarded as survivals from the peaceable
cultural phase, are that instinct of race solidarity which we
call conscience, including the sense of truthfulness and equity,
and the instinct of workmanship, in its naive, non-invidious
expression.

Under the guidance of the later biological and psychological
science, human nature will have to be restated in terms of habit;
and in the restatement, this, in outline, appears to be the only
assignable place and ground of these traits. These habits of life
are of too pervading a character to be ascribed to the influence
of a late or brief discipline. The ease with which they are
temporarily overborne by the special exigencies of recent and
modern life argues that these habits are the surviving effects of
a discipline of extremely ancient date, from the teachings of
which men have frequently been constrained to depart in detail
under the altered circumstances of a later time; and the almost
ubiquitous fashion in which they assert themselves whenever the
pressure of special exigencies is relieved, argues that the
process by which the traits were fixed and incorporated into the
spiritual make-up of the type must have lasted for a relatively
very long time and without serious intermission. The point is not
seriously affected by any question as to whether it was a process
of habituation in the old-fashioned sense of the word or a
process of selective adaptation of the race.

The character and exigencies of life, under that regime of status
and of individual and class antithesis which covers the entire
interval from the beginning of predatory culture to the present,
argue that the traits of temperament here under discussion could
scarcely have arisen and acquired fixity during that interval. It
is entirely probable that these traits have come down from an
earlier method of life, and have survived through the interval of
predatory and quasi-peaceable culture in a condition of
incipient, or at least imminent, desuetude, rather than that they
have been brought out and fixed by this later culture. They
appear to be hereditary characteristics of the race, and to have
persisted in spite of the altered requirements of success under
the predatory and the later pecuniary stages of culture. They
seem to have persisted by force of the tenacity of transmission
that belongs to an hereditary trait that is present in some
degree in every member of the species, and which therefore rests
on a broad basis of race continuity.

Such a generic feature is not readily eliminated, even under a
process of selection so severe and protracted as that to which
the traits here under discussion were subjected during the
predatory and quasi-peaceable stages. These peaceable traits are
in great part alien to the methods and the animus of barbarian
life. The salient characteristic of the barbarian culture is an
unremitting emulation and antagonism between classes and between
individuals. This emulative discipline favors those individuals
and lines of descent which possess the peaceable savage traits in
a relatively slight degree. It therefore tends to eliminate these
traits, and it has apparently weakened them, in an appreciable
degree, in the populations that have been subject to it. Even
where the extreme penalty for non-conformity to the barbarian
type of temperament is not paid, there results at least a more or
less consistent repression of the non-conforming individuals and
lines of descent. Where life is largely a struggle between
individuals within the group, the possession of the ancient
peaceable traits in a marked degree would hamper an individual in
the struggle for life.

Under any known phase of culture, other or later than the
presumptive initial phase here spoken of, the gifts of
good-nature, equity, and indiscriminate sympathy do not
appreciably further the life of the individual. Their possession
may serve to protect the individual from hard usage at the hands
of a majority that insists on a modicum of these ingredients in
their ideal of a normal man; but apart from their indirect and
negative effect in this way, the individual fares better under
the regime of competition in proportion as he has less of these
gifts. Freedom from scruple, from sympathy, honesty and regard
for life, may, within fairly wide limits, be said to further the
success of the individual in the pecuniary culture. The highly
successful men of all times have commonly been of this type;
except those whose success has not been scored in terms of either
wealth or power. It is only within narrow limits, and then only
in a Pickwickian sense, that honesty is the best policy.

As seen from the point of view of life under modern
civilized conditions in an enlightened community of the Western
culture, the primitive, ante-predatory savage, whose character it
has been attempted to trace in outline above, was not a great
success. Even for the purposes of that hypothetical culture to
which his type of human nature owes what stability it has -- even
for the ends of the peaceable savage group -- this primitive man
has quite as many and as conspicuous economic failings as he has
economic virtues -- as should be plain to any one whose sense of
the case is not biased by leniency born of a fellow-feeling. At
his best he is "a clever, good-for-nothing fellow." The
shortcomings of this presumptively primitive type of character
are weakness, inefficiency, lack of initiative and ingenuity, and
a yielding and indolent amiability, together with a lively but
inconsequential animistic sense. Along with these traits go
certain others which have some value for the collective life
process, in the sense that they further the facility of life in
the group. These traits are truthfulness, peaceableness,
good-will, and a non-emulative, non-invidious interest in men and
things.

With the advent of the predatory stage of life there comes a
change in the requirements of the successful human character.
Men's habits of life are required to adapt themselves to new
exigencies under a new scheme of human relations. The same
unfolding of energy, which had previously found expression in the
traits of savage life recited above, is now required to find
expression along a new line of action, in a new group of habitual
responses to altered stimuli. The methods which, as counted in
terms of facility of life, answered measurably under the earlier
conditions, are no longer adequate under the new conditions. The
earlier situation was characterized by a relative absence of
antagonism or differentiation of interests, the later situation
by an emulation constantly increasing in relative absence of
antagonism or differentiation of interests, the later situation
by an emulation constantly increasing in intensity and narrowing
in scope. The traits which characterize the predatory and
subsequent stages of culture, and which indicate the types of man
best fitted to survive under the regime of status, are (in their
primary expression) ferocity, self-seeking, clannishness, and
disingenuousness -- a free resort to force and fraud.

Under the severe and protracted discipline of the regime of
competition, the selection of ethnic types has acted to give a
somewhat pronounced dominance to these traits of character, by
favoring the survival of those ethnic elements which are most
richly endowed in these respects. At the same time the earlier --
acquired, more generic habits of the race have never ceased to
have some usefulness for the purpose of the life of the
collectivity and have never fallen into definitive abeyance.
It may be worth while to point out that the dolicho-blond type of
European man seems to owe much of its dominating
influence and its masterful position in the recent culture to its
possessing the characteristics of predatory man in an exceptional
degree. These spiritual traits, together with a large endowment
of physical energy -- itself probably a result of selection
between groups and between lines of descent -- chiefly go to
place any ethnic element in the position of a leisure or master
class, especially during the earlier phases of the development of
the institution of a leisure class. This need not mean that
precisely the same complement of aptitudes in any individual
would insure him an eminent personal success. Under the
competitive regime, the conditions of success for the individual
are not necessarily the same as those for a class. The success of
a class or party presumes a strong element of clannishness, or
loyalty to a chief, or adherence to a tenet; whereas the
competitive individual can best achieve his ends if he combines
the barbarian's energy, initiative, self-seeking and
disingenuousness with the savage's lack of loyalty or
clannishness. It may be remarked by the way, that the men who
have scored a brilliant (Napoleonic) success on the basis of an
impartial self-seeking and absence of scruple, have not
uncommonly shown more of the physical characteristics of the
brachycephalic-brunette than of the dolicho-blond. The greater
proportion of moderately successful individuals, in a
self-seeking way, however, seem, in physique, to belong to the
last-named ethnic element.

The temperament induced by the predatory habit of life makes for
the survival and fullness of life of the individual under a
regime of emulation; at the same time it makes for the survival
and success of the group if the group's life as a collectivity is
also predominantly a life of hostile competition with other
groups. But the evolution of economic life in the industrially
more mature communities has now begun to take such a turn that
the interest of the community no longer coincides with the
emulative interests of the individual. In their corporate
capacity, these advanced industrial communities are ceasing to be
competitors for the means of life or for the right to live --
except in so far as the predatory propensities of their ruling
classes keep up the tradition of war and rapine. These
communities are no longer hostile to one another by force of
circumstances, other than the circumstances of tradition and
temperament. Their material interests -- apart, possibly, from
the interests of the collective good fame -- are not only no
longer incompatible, but the success of any one of the
communities unquestionably furthers the fullness of life of any
other community in the group, for the present and for an
incalculable time to come. No one of them any longer has any
material interest in getting the better of any other. The same is
not true in the same degree as regards individuals and their
relations to one another.

The collective interests of any modern community center in
industrial efficiency. The individual is serviceable for the ends
of the community somewhat in proportion to his efficiency in the
productive employments vulgarly so called. This collective
interest is best served by honesty, diligence, peacefulness,
good-will, an absence of self-seeking, and an habitual
recognition and apprehension of causal sequence, without
admixture of animistic belief and without a sense of dependence
on any preternatural intervention in the course of events. Not
much is to be said for the beauty, moral excellence, or general
worthiness and reputability of such a prosy human nature as these
traits imply; and there is little ground of enthusiasm for the
manner of collective life that would result from the prevalence
of these traits in unmitigated dominance. But that is beside the
point. The successful working of a modern industrial community is
best secured where these traits concur, and it is attained in the
degree in which the human material is characterized by their
possession. Their presence in some measure is required in order
to have a tolerable adjustment to the circumstances of the modern
industrial situation. The complex, comprehensive, essentially
peaceable, and highly organized mechanism of the modern
industrial community works to the best advantage when these
traits, or most of them, are present in the highest practicable
degree. These traits are present in a markedly less degree in the
man of the predatory type than is useful for the purposes of the
modern collective life.

On the other hand, the immediate interest of the individual under
the competitive regime is best served by shrewd trading and
unscrupulous management. The characteristics named above as
serving the interests of the community are disserviceable to the
individual, rather than otherwise. The presence of these
aptitudes in his make-up diverts his energies to other ends than
those of pecuniary gain; and also in his pursuit of gain they
lead him to seek gain by the indirect and ineffectual channels of
industry, rather than by a free and unfaltering career of sharp
practice. The industrial aptitudes are pretty consistently a
hindrance to the individual. Under the regime of emulation the
members of a modern industrial community are rivals, each of whom
will best attain his individual and immediate advantage if,
through an exceptional exemption from scruple, he is able
serenely to overreach and injure his fellows when the chance
offers.

It has already been noticed that modern economic institutions
fall into two roughly distinct categories -- the pecuniary and
the industrial. The like is true of employments. Under the former
head are employments that have to do with ownership or
acquisition; under the latter head, those that have to do with
workmanship or production. As was found in speaking of the growth
of institutions, so with regard to employments. The economic
interests of the leisure class lie in the pecuniary employments;
those of the working classes lie in both classes of employments,
but chiefly in the industrial. Entrance to the leisure class lies
through the pecuniary employments.

These two classes of employment differ materially in respect of
the aptitudes required for each; and the training which they give
similarly follows two divergent lines. The discipline of the
pecuniary employments acts to conserve and to cultivate certain
of the predatory aptitudes and the predatory animus. It does this
both by educating those individuals and classes who are occupied
with these employments and by selectively repressing and
eliminating those individuals and lines of descent that are unfit
in this respect. So far as men's habits of thought are shaped by
the competitive process of acquisition and tenure; so far as
their economic functions are comprised within the range of
ownership of wealth as conceived in terms of exchange value, and
its management and financiering through a permutation of values;
so far their experience in economic life favors the survival and
accentuation of the predatory temperament and habits of thought.
Under the modern, peaceable system, it is of course the peaceable
range of predatory habits and aptitudes that is chiefly fostered
by a life of acquisition. That is to say, the pecuniary
employments give proficiency in the general line of practices
comprised under fraud, rather than in those that belong under the
more archaic method of forcible seizure.

These pecuniary employments, tending to conserve the
predatory temperament, are the employments which have to do with
ownership -- the immediate function of the leisure class proper
-- and the subsidiary functions concerned with acquisition and
accumulation. These cover the class of persons and that range of
duties in the economic process which have to do with the
ownership of enterprises engaged in competitive industry;
especially those fundamental lines of economic management which
are classed as financiering operations. To these may be added the
greater part of mercantile occupations. In their best and
clearest development these duties make up the economic office of
the "captain of industry." The captain of industry is an astute
man rather than an ingenious one, and his captaincy is a
pecuniary rather than an industrial captaincy. Such
administration of industry as he exercises is commonly of a
permissive kind. The mechanically effective details of production
and of industrial organization are delegated to subordinates of a
less "practical" turn of mind -- men who are possessed of a gift
for workmanship rather than administrative ability. So far as
regards their tendency in shaping human nature by education and
selection, the common run of non-economic employments are to be
classed with the pecuniary employments. Such are politics and
ecclesiastical and military employments.

The pecuniary employments have also the sanction of
reputability in a much higher degree than the industrial
employments. In this way the leisure-class standards of good
repute come in to sustain the prestige of those aptitudes that
serve the invidious purpose; and the leisure-class scheme of
decorous living, therefore, also furthers the survival and
culture of the predatory traits. Employments fall into a
hierarchical gradation of reputability. Those which have to do
immediately with ownership on a large scale are the most
reputable of economic employments proper. Next to these in good
repute come those employments that are immediately subservient to
ownership and financiering -- such as banking and the law.
Banking employments also carry a suggestion of large ownership,
and this fact is doubtless accountable for a share of the
prestige that attaches to the business. The profession of the law
does not imply large ownership; but since no taint of
usefulness, for other than the competitive purpose, attaches to
the lawyer's trade, it grades high in the conventional scheme.
The lawyer is exclusively occupied with the details of predatory
fraud, either in achieving or in checkmating chicanery, and
success in the profession is therefore accepted as marking a
large endowment of that barbarian astuteness which has always
commanded men's respect and fear. Mercantile pursuits are only
half-way reputable, unless they involve a large element of
ownership and a small element of usefulness. They grade high or
low somewhat in proportion as they serve the higher or the lower
needs; so that the business of retailing the vulgar necessaries
of life descends to the level of the handicrafts and factory
labor. Manual labor, or even the work of directing mechanical
processes, is of course on a precarious footing as regards
respectability. A qualification is necessary as regards the
discipline given by the pecuniary employments. As the scale of
industrial enterprise grows larger, pecuniary management comes to
bear less of the character of chicanery and shrewd competition in
detail. That is to say, for an ever-increasing proportion of the
persons who come in contact with this phase of economic life,
business reduces itself to a routine in which there is less
immediate suggestion of overreaching or exploiting a competitor.
The consequent exemption from predatory habits extends chiefly to
subordinates employed in business. The duties of ownership and
administration are virtually untouched by this qualification.
The case is different as regards those individuals or classes who
are immediately occupied with the technique and manual operations
of production. Their daily life is not in the same degree a
course of habituation to the emulative and invidious motives and
maneuvers of the pecuniary side of industry. They are
consistently held to the apprehension and coordination of
mechanical facts and sequences, and to their appreciation and
utilization for the purposes of human life. So far as concerns
this portion of the population, the educative and selective
action of the industrial process with which they are immediately
in contact acts to adapt their habits of thought to the
non-invidious purposes of the collective life. For them,
therefore, it hastens the obsolescence of the distinctively
predatory aptitudes and propensities carried over by heredity and
tradition from the barbarian past of the race.

The educative action of the economic life of the community,
therefore, is not of a uniform kind throughout all its
manifestations. That range of economic activities which is
concerned immediately with pecuniary competition has a tendency
to conserve certain predatory traits; while those industrial
occupations which have to do immediately with the production of
goods have in the main the contrary tendency. But with regard to
the latter class of employments it is to be noticed in
qualification that the persons engaged in them are nearly all to
some extent also concerned with matters of pecuniary competition
(as, for instance, in the competitive fixing of wages and
salaries, in the purchase of goods for consumption, etc.).
Therefore the distinction here made between classes of
employments is by no means a hard and fast distinction between
classes of persons.

The employments of the leisure classes in modern industry are
such as to keep alive certain of the predatory habits and
aptitudes. So far as the members of those classes take part in
the industrial process, their training tends to conserve in them
the barbarian temperament. But there is something to be said on
the other side. Individuals so placed as to be exempt from strain
may survive and transmit their characteristics even if they
differ widely from the average of the species both in physique
and in spiritual make-up. The chances for a survival and
transmission of atavistic traits are greatest in those classes
that are most sheltered from the stress of circumstances. The
leisure class is in some degree sheltered from the stress of the
industrial situation, and should, therefore, afford an
exceptionally great proportion of reversions to the peaceable or
savage temperament. It should be possible for such aberrant or
atavistic individuals to unfold their life activity on
ante-predatory lines without suffering as prompt a repression or
elimination as in the lower walks of life.

Something of the sort seems to be true in fact. There is, for
instance, an appreciable proportion of the upper classes whose
inclinations lead them into philanthropic work, and there is a
considerable body of sentiment in the class going to support
efforts of reform and amelioration. And much of this
philanthropic and reformatory effort, moreover, bears the marks
of that amiable "cleverness" and incoherence that is
characteristic of the primitive savage. But it may still be
doubtful whether these facts are evidence of a larger proportion
of reversions in the higher than in the lower strata, even if the
same inclinations were present in the impecunious classes, it
would not as easily find expression there; since those classes
lack the means and the time and energy to give effect to their
inclinations in this respect. The prima facie evidence of the
facts can scarcely go unquestioned.

In further qualification it is to be noted that the leisure class
of today is recruited from those who have been successful in a
pecuniary way, and who, therefore, are presumably endowed with
more than an even complement of the predatory traits. Entrance
into the leisure class lies through the pecuniary employments,
and these employments, by selection and adaptation, act to admit
to the upper levels only those lines of descent that are
pecuniarily fit to survive under the predatory test. And so soon
as a case of reversion to non-predatory human nature shows itself
on these upper levels, it is commonly weeded out and thrown back
to the lower pecuniary levels. In order to hold its place in the
class, a stock must have the pecuniary temperament; otherwise its
fortune would be dissipated and it would presently lose caste.
Instances of this kind are sufficiently frequent. The
constituency of the leisure class is kept up by a continual
selective process, whereby the individuals and lines of descent
that are eminently fitted for an aggressive pecuniary competition
are withdraw from the lower classes. In order to reach the upper
levels the aspirant must have, not only a fair average complement
of the pecuniary aptitudes, but he must have these gifts in such
an eminent degree as to overcome very material difficulties that
stand in the way of his ascent. Barring accidents, the nouveaux
arrivés are a picked body.

This process of selective admission has, of course, always been
going on; ever since the fashion of pecuniary emulation set in --
which is much the same as saying, ever since the
institution of a leisure class was first installed. But the
precise ground of selection has not always been the same, and the
selective process has therefore not always given the same
results. In the early barbarian, or predatory stage proper, the
test of fitness was prowess, in the naive sense of the word. To
gain entrance to the class, the candidate had to be gifted with
clannishness, massiveness, ferocity, unscrupulousness, and
tenacity of purpose. These were the qualities that counted toward
the accumulation and continued tenure of wealth. The economic
basis of the leisure class, then as later, was the possession of
wealth; but the methods of accumulating wealth, and the gifts
required for holding it, have changed in some degree since the
early days of the predatory culture. In consequence of the
selective process the dominant traits of the early barbarian
leisure class were bold aggression, an alert sense of status, and
a free resort to fraud. The members of the class held their place
by tenure of prowess. In the later barbarian culture society
attained settled methods of acquisition and possession under the
quasi-peaceable regime of status. Simple aggression and
unrestrained violence in great measure gave place to shrewd
practice and chicanery, as the best approved method of
accumulating wealth. A different range of aptitudes and
propensities would then be conserved in the leisure class.
Masterful aggression, and the correlative massiveness, together
with a ruthlessly consistent sense of status, would still count
among the most splendid traits of the class. These have remained
in our traditions as the typical "aristocratic virtues." But with
these were associated an increasing complement of the less
obtrusive pecuniary virtues; such as providence, prudence, and
chicanery. As time has gone on, and the modern peaceable stage of
pecuniary culture has been approached, the last-named range of
aptitudes and habits has gained in relative effectiveness for
pecuniary ends, and they have counted for relatively more in the
selective process under which admission is gained and place is
held in the leisure class.

The ground of selection has changed, until the aptitudes which
now qualify for admission to the class are the pecuniary
aptitudes only. What remains of the predatory barbarian traits is
the tenacity of purpose or consistency of aim which distinguished
the successful predatory barbarian from the peaceable savage whom
he supplanted. But this trait can not be said characteristically
to distinguish the pecuniarily successful upper-class man from
the rank and file of the industrial classes. The training and the
selection to which the latter are exposed in modern industrial
life give a similarly decisive weight to this trait. Tenacity of
purpose may rather be said to distinguish both these classes from
two others; the shiftless ne'er do-well and the lower-class
delinquent. In point of natural endowment the pecuniary man
compares with the delinquent in much the same way as the
industrial man compares with the good-natured shiftless
dependent. The ideal pecuniary man is like the ideal delinquent
in his unscrupulous conversion of goods and persons to his own
ends, and in a callous disregard of the feelings and wishes of
others and of the remoter effects of his actions; but he is
unlike him in possessing a keener sense of status, and in working
more consistently and farsightedly to a remoter end. The kinship
of the two types of temperament is further shown in a proclivity
to "sport" and gambling, and a relish of aimless emulation. The
ideal pecuniary man also shows a curious kinship with the
delinquent in one of the concomitant variations of the predatory
human nature. The delinquent is very commonly of a superstitious
habit of mind; he is a great believer in luck, spells, divination
and destiny, and in omens and shamanistic ceremony. Where
circumstances are favorable, this proclivity is apt to express
itself in a certain servile devotional fervor and a punctilious
attention to devout observances; it may perhaps be better
characterized as devoutness than as religion. At this point the
temperament of the delinquent has more in common with the
pecuniary and leisure classes than with the industrial man or
with the class of shiftless dependents.

Life in a modern industrial community, or in other words life
under the pecuniary culture, acts by a process of selection to
develop and conserve a certain range of aptitudes and
propensities. The present tendency of this selective process is
not simply a reversion to a given, immutable ethnic type. It
tends rather to a modification of human nature differing in some
respects from any of the types or variants transmitted out of the
past. The objective point of the evolution is not a single one.
The temperament which the evolution acts to establish as normal
differs from any one of the archaic variants of human nature in
its greater stability of aim -- greater singleness of purpose and
greater persistence in effort. So far as concerns economic
theory, the objective point of the selective process is on the
whole single to this extent; although there are minor tendencies
of considerable importance diverging from this line of
development. But apart from this general trend the line of
development is not single. As concerns economic theory, the
development in other respects runs on two divergent lines. So far
as regards the selective conservation of capacities or aptitudes
in individuals, these two lines may be called the pecuniary and
the industrial. As regards the conservation of propensities,
spiritual attitude, or animus, the two may be called the
invidious or self-regarding and the non-invidious or economical.
As regards the intellectual or cognitive bent of the two
directions of growth, the former may be characterized as the
personal standpoint, of conation, qualitative relation, status,
or worth; the latter as the impersonal standpoint, of sequence,
quantitative relation, mechanical efficiency, or use.

The pecuniary employments call into action chiefly the former of
these two ranges of aptitudes and propensities, and act
selectively to conserve them in the population. The industrial
employments, on the other hand, chiefly exercise the latter
range, and act to conserve them. An exhaustive psychological
analysis will show that each of these two ranges of aptitudes and
propensities is but the multiform expression of a given
temperamental bent. By force of the unity or singleness of the
individual, the aptitudes, animus, and interests comprised in the
first-named range belong together as expressions of a given
variant of human nature. The like is true of the latter range.
The two may be conceived as alternative directions of human life,
in such a way that a given individual inclines more or less
consistently to the one or the other. The tendency of the
pecuniary life is, in a general way, to conserve the barbarian
temperament, but with the substitution of fraud and prudence, or
administrative ability, in place of that predilection for
physical damage that characterizes the early barbarian. This
substitution of chicanery in place of devastation takes place
only in an uncertain degree. Within the pecuniary employments the
selective action runs pretty consistently in this direction, but
the discipline of pecuniary life, outside the competition for
gain, does not work consistently to the same effect. The
discipline of modern life in the consumption of time and goods
does not act unequivocally to eliminate the aristocratic virtues
or to foster the bourgeois virtues. The conventional scheme of
decent living calls for a considerable exercise of the earlier
barbarian traits. Some details of this traditional scheme of
life, bearing on this point, have been noticed in earlier
chapters under the head of leisure, and further details will be
shown in later chapters.

From what has been said, it appears that the leisure-class life
and the leisure-class scheme of life should further the
conservation of the barbarian temperament; chiefly of the
quasi-peaceable, or bourgeois, variant, but also in some measure
of the predatory variant. In the absence of disturbing factors,
therefore, it should be possible to trace a difference of
temperament between the classes of society. The aristocratic and
the bourgeois virtues -- that is to say the destructive and
pecuniary traits -- should be found chiefly among the upper
classes, and the industrial virtues -- that is to say the
peaceable traits -- chiefly among the classes given to mechanical
industry.

In a general and uncertain way this holds true, but the test is
not so readily applied nor so conclusive as might be wished.
There are several assignable reasons for its partial failure. All
classes are in a measure engaged in the pecuniary struggle, and
in all classes the possession of the pecuniary traits counts
towards the success and survival of the individual. Wherever the
pecuniary culture prevails, the selective process by which men's
habits of thought are shaped, and by which the survival of rival
lines of descent is decided, proceeds proximately on the basis of
fitness for acquisition. Consequently, if it were not for the
fact that pecuniary efficiency is on the whole incompatible with
industrial efficiency, the selective action of all occupations
would tend to the unmitigated dominance of the pecuniary
temperament. The result would be the installation of what has
been known as the "economic man," as the normal and definitive
type of human nature. But the "economic man," whose only interest
is the self-regarding one and whose only human trait is prudence
is useless for the purposes of modern industry.

The modern industry requires an impersonal, non-invidious
interest in the work in hand. Without this the elaborate
processes of industry would be impossible, and would, indeed,
never have been conceived. This interest in work differentiates
the workman from the criminal on the one hand, and from the
captain of industry on the other. Since work must be done in
order to the continued life of the community, there results a
qualified selection favoring the spiritual aptitude for work,
within a certain range of occupations. This much, however, is to
be conceded, that even within the industrial occupations the
selective elimination of the pecuniary traits is an uncertain
process, and that there is consequently an appreciable survival
of the barbarian temperament even within these occupations. On
this account there is at present no broad distinction in this
respect between the leisure-class character and the character of
the common run of the population.

The whole question as to a class distinction in respect to
spiritual make-up is also obscured by the presence, in all
classes of society, of acquired habits of life that closely
simulate inherited traits and at the same time act to develop in
the entire body of the population the traits which they simulate.
These acquired habits, or assumed traits of character, are most
commonly of an aristocratic cast. The prescriptive position of
the leisure class as the exemplar of reputability has imposed
many features of the leisure-class theory of life upon the lower
classes; with the result that there goes on, always and
throughout society, a more or less persistent cultivation of
these aristocratic traits. On this ground also these traits have
a better chance of survival among the body of the people than
would be the case if it were not for the precept and example of
the leisure class. As one channel, and an important one, through
which this transfusion of aristocratic views of life, and
consequently more or less archaic traits of character goes on,
may be mentioned the class of domestic servants. These have their
notions of what is good and beautiful shaped by contact with the
master class and carry the preconceptions so acquired back among
their low-born equals, and so disseminate the higher ideals
abroad through the community without the loss of time which this
dissemination might otherwise suffer. The saying "Like master,
like man," has a greater significance than is commonly
appreciated for the rapid popular acceptance of many elements of
upper-class culture.

There is also a further range of facts that go to lessen class
differences as regards the survival of the pecuniary virtues. The
pecuniary struggle produces an underfed class, of large
proportions. This underfeeding consists in a deficiency of the
necessaries of life or of the necessaries of a decent
expenditure. In either case the result is a closely enforced
struggle for the means with which to meet the daily needs;
whether it be the physical or the higher needs. The strain of
self-assertion against odds takes up the whole energy of the
individual; he bends his efforts to compass his own invidious
ends alone, and becomes continually more narrowly self-seeking.
The industrial traits in this way tend to obsolescence through
disuse. Indirectly, therefore, by imposing a scheme of pecuniary
decency and by withdrawing as much as may be of the means of life
from the lower classes, the institution of a leisure class acts
to conserve the pecuniary traits in the body of the population.
The result is an assimilation of the lower classes to the type of
human nature that belongs primarily to the upper classes only.
It appears, therefore, that there is no wide difference in
temperament between the upper and the lower classes; but it
appears also that the absence of such a difference is in good
part due to the prescriptive example of the leisure class and to
the popular acceptance of those broad principles of conspicuous
waste and pecuniary emulation on which the institution of a
leisure class rests. The institution acts to lower the industrial
efficiency of the community and retard the adaptation of human
nature to the exigencies of modern industrial life. It affects
the prevalent or effective human nature in a conservative
direction, (1) by direct transmission of archaic traits, through
inheritance within the class and wherever the leisure-class blood
is transfused outside the class, and (2) by conserving and
fortifying the traditions of the archaic regime, and so making
the chances of survival of barbarian traits greater also outside
the range of transfusion of leisure-class blood.

But little if anything has been done towards collecting or
digesting data that are of special significance for the question
of survival or elimination of traits in the modern populations.
Little of a tangible character can therefore be offered in
support of the view here taken, beyond a discursive review of
such everyday facts as lie ready to hand. Such a recital can
scarcely avoid being commonplace and tedious, but for all that it
seems necessary to the completeness of the argument, even in the
meager outline in which it is here attempted. A degree of
indulgence may therefore fairly be bespoken for the succeeding
chapters, which offer a fragmentary recital of this kind.




Chapter Ten

Modern Survivals of Prowess

The leisure class lives by the industrial community rather than
in it. Its relations to industry are of a pecuniary rather than
an industrial kind. Admission to the class is gained by exercise
of the pecuniary aptitudes -- aptitudes for acquisition rather
than for serviceability. There is, therefore, a continued
selective sifting of the human material that makes up the leisure
class, and this selection proceeds on the ground of fitness for
pecuniary pursuits. But the scheme of life of the class is in
large part a heritage from the past, and embodies much of the
habits and ideals of the earlier barbarian period. This archaic,
barbarian scheme of life imposes itself also on the lower orders,
with more or less mitigation. In its turn the scheme of life, of
conventions, acts selectively and by education to shape the human
material, and its action runs chiefly in the direction of
conserving traits, habits, and ideals that belong to the early
barbarian age -- the age of prowess and predatory life.

The most immediate and unequivocal expression of that archaic
human nature which characterizes man in the predatory stage is
the fighting propensity proper. In cases where the predatory
activity is a collective one, this propensity is frequently
called the martial spirit, or, latterly, patriotism. It needs no
insistence to find assent to the proposition that in the
countries of civilized Europe the hereditary leisure class is
endowed with this martial spirit in a higher degree than the
middle classes. Indeed, the leisure class claims the distinction
as a matter of pride, and no doubt with some grounds. War is
honorable, and warlike prowess is eminently honorific in the eyes
of the generality of men; and this admiration of warlike prowess
is itself the best voucher of a predatory temperament in the
admirer of war. The enthusiasm for war, and the predatory temper
of which it is the index, prevail in the largest measure among
the upper classes, especially among the hereditary leisure class.
Moreover, the ostensible serious occupation of the upper class is
that of government, which, in point of origin and developmental
content, is also a predatory occupation.

The only class which could at all dispute with the
hereditary leisure class the honor of an habitual bellicose frame
of mind is that of the lower-class delinquents. In ordinary
times, the large body of the industrial classes is relatively
apathetic touching warlike interests. When unexcited, this body
of the common people, which makes up the effective force of the
industrial community, is rather averse to any other than a
defensive fight; indeed, it responds a little tardily even to a
provocation which makes for an attitude of defense. In the more
civilized communities, or rather in the communities which have
reached an advanced industrial development, the spirit of warlike
aggression may be said to be obsolescent among the common people.
This does not say that there is not an appreciable number of
individuals among the industrial classes in whom the martial
spirit asserts itself obtrusively. Nor does it say that the body
of the people may not be fired with martial ardor for a time
under the stimulus of some special provocation, such as is seen
in operation today in more than one of the countries of Europe,
and for the time in America. But except for such seasons of
temporary exaltation, and except for those individuals who are
endowed with an archaic temperament of the predatory type,
together with the similarly endowed body of individuals among the
higher and the lowest classes, the inertness of the mass of any
modern civilized community in this respect is probably so great
as would make war impracticable, except against actual invasion.
The habits and aptitudes of the common run of men make for an
unfolding of activity in other, less picturesque directions than
that of war.

This class difference in temperament may be due in part to a
difference in the inheritance of acquired traits in the several
classes, but it seems also, in some measure, to correspond with a
difference in ethnic derivation. The class difference is in this
respect visibly less in those countries whose population is
relatively homogeneous, ethnically, than in the countries where
there is a broader divergence between the ethnic elements that
make up the several classes of the community. In the same
connection it may be noted that the later accessions to the
leisure class in the latter countries, in a general way, show
less of the martial spirit than contemporary representatives of
the aristocracy of the ancient line. These nouveaux arrivés have
recently emerged from the commonplace body of the population and
owe their emergence into the leisure class to the exercise of
traits and propensities which are not to be classed as prowess in
the ancient sense.

Apart from warlike activity proper, the institution of the duel
is also an expression of the same superior readiness for combat;
and the duel is a leisure-class institution. The duel is in
substance a more or less deliberate resort to a fight as a final
settlement of a difference of opinion. In civilized communities
it prevails as a normal phenomenon only where there is an
hereditary leisure class, and almost exclusively among that
class. The exceptions are (1) military and naval officers who are
ordinarily members of the leisure class, and who are at the same
time specially trained to predatory habits of mind and (2) the
lower-class delinquents -- who are by inheritance, or training,
or both, of a similarly predatory disposition and habit. It is
only the high-bred gentleman and the rowdy that normally resort
to blows as the universal solvent of differences of opinion. The
plain man will ordinarily fight only when excessive momentary
irritation or alcoholic exaltation act to inhibit the more
complex habits of response to the stimuli that make for
provocation. He is then thrown back upon the simpler, less
differentiated forms of the instinct of self-assertion; that is
to say, he reverts temporarily and without reflection to an
archaic habit of mind.

This institution of the duel as a mode of finally settling
disputes and serious questions of precedence shades off into the
obligatory, unprovoked private fight, as a social obligation due
to one's good repute. As a leisure-class usage of this kind we
have, particularly, that bizarre survival of bellicose chivalry,
the German student duel. In the lower or spurious leisure class
of the delinquents there is in all countries a similar, though
less formal, social obligation incumbent on the rowdy to assert
his manhood in unprovoked combat with his fellows. And spreading
through all grades of society, a similar usage prevails among the
boys of the community. The boy usually knows to nicety, from day
to day, how he and his associates grade in respect of relative
fighting capacity; and in the community of boys there is
ordinarily no secure basis of reputability for any one who, by
exception, will not or can not fight on invitation.

All this applies especially to boys above a certain somewhat
vague limit of maturity. The child's temperament does not
commonly answer to this description during infancy and the years
of close tutelage, when the child still habitually seeks contact
with its mother at every turn of its daily life. During this
earlier period there is little aggression and little propensity
for antagonism. The transition from this peaceable temper to the
predaceous, and in extreme cases malignant, mischievousness of
the boy is a gradual one, and it is accomplished with more
completeness, covering a larger range of the individual's
aptitudes, in some cases than in others. In the earlier stage of
his growth, the child, whether boy or girl, shows less of
initiative and aggressive self-assertion and less of an
inclination to isolate himself and his interests from the
domestic group in which he lives, and he shows more of
sensitiveness to rebuke, bashfulness, timidity, and the need of
friendly human contact. In the common run of cases this early
temperament passes, by a gradual but somewhat rapid obsolescence
of the infantile features, into the temperament of the boy
proper; though there are also cases where the predaceous futures
of boy life do not emerge at all, or at the most emerge in but a
slight and obscure degree.

In girls the transition to the predaceous stage is seldom
accomplished with the same degree of completeness as in boys; and
in a relatively large proportion of cases it is scarcely
undergone at all. In such cases the transition from infancy to
adolescence and maturity is a gradual and unbroken process of the
shifting of interest from infantile purposes and aptitudes to the
purposes, functions, and relations of adult life. In the girls
there is a less general prevalence of a predaceous interval in
the development; and in the cases where it occurs, the predaceous
and isolating attitude during the interval is commonly less
accentuated.

In the male child the predaceous interval is ordinarily fairly
well marked and lasts for some time, but it is commonly
terminated (if at all) with the attainment of maturity. This last
statement may need very material qualification. The cases are by
no means rare in which the transition from the boyish to the
adult temperament is not made, or is made only partially --
understanding by the "adult" temperament the average temperament
of those adult individuals in modern industrial life who have
some serviceability for the purposes of the collective life
process, and who may therefore be said to make up the effective
average of the industrial community.

The ethnic composition of the European populations varies. In
some cases even the lower classes are in large measure made up of
the peace-disturbing dolicho-blond; while in others this ethnic
element is found chiefly among the hereditary leisure class. The
fighting habit seems to prevail to a less extent among the
working-class boys in the latter class of populations than among
the boys of the upper classes or among those of the
populations first named.

If this generalization as to the temperament of the boy among the
working classes should be found true on a fuller and closer
scrutiny of the field, it would add force to the view that the
bellicose temperament is in some appreciable degree a race
characteristic; it appears to enter more largely into the make-up
of the dominant, upper-class ethnic type -- the dolicho-blond --
of the European countries than into the subservient, lower-class
types of man which are conceived to constitute the body of the
population of the same communities.

The case of the boy may seem not to bear seriously on the
question of the relative endowment of prowess with which the
several classes of society are gifted; but it is at least of some
value as going to show that this fighting impulse belongs to a
more archaic temperament than that possessed by the average adult
man of the industrious classes. In this, as in many other
features of child life, the child reproduces, temporarily and in
miniature, some of the earlier phases of the development of adult
man. Under this interpretation, the boy's predilection for
exploit and for isolation of his own interest is to be taken as a
transient reversion to the human nature that is normal to the
early barbarian culture -- the predatory culture proper. In this
respect, as in much else, the leisure-class and the
delinquent-class character shows a persistence into adult life of
traits that are normal to childhood and youth, and that are
likewise normal or habitual to the earlier stages of culture.
Unless the difference is traceable entirely to a fundamental
difference between persistent ethnic types, the traits that
distinguish the swaggering delinquent and the punctilious
gentleman of leisure from the common crowd are, in some measure,
marks of an arrested spiritual development. They mark an immature
phase, as compared with the stage of development attained by the
average of the adults in the modern industrial community. And it
will appear presently that the puerile spiritual make-up of these
representatives of the upper and the lowest social strata shows
itself also in the presence of other archaic traits than this
proclivity to ferocious exploit and isolation.

As if to leave no doubt about the essential immaturity of the
fighting temperament, we have, bridging the interval between
legitimate boyhood and adult manhood, the aimless and playful,
but more or less systematic and elaborate, disturbances of the
peace in vogue among schoolboys of a slightly higher age. In the
common run of cases, these disturbances are confined to the
period of adolescence. They recur with decreasing frequency and
acuteness as youth merges into adult life, and so they reproduce,
in a general way, in the life of the individual, the sequence by
which the group has passed from the predatory to a more settled
habit of life. In an appreciable number of cases the spiritual
growth of the individual comes to a close before he emerges from
this puerile phase; in these cases the fighting temper persists
through life. Those individuals who in spiritual development
eventually reach man's estate, therefore, ordinarily pass through
a temporary archaic phase corresponding to the permanent
spiritual level of the fighting and sporting men. Different
individuals will, of course, achieve spiritual maturity and
sobriety in this respect in different degrees; and those who fail
of the average remain as an undissolved residue of crude humanity
in the modern industrial community and as a foil for that
selective process of adaptation which makes for a heightened
industrial efficiency and the fullness of life of the
collectivity. This arrested spiritual development may express
itself not only in a direct participation by adults in youthful
exploits of ferocity, but also indirectly in aiding and abetting
disturbances of this kind on the part of younger persons. It
thereby furthers the formation of habits of ferocity which may
persist in the later life of the growing generation, and so
retard any movement in the direction of a more peaceable
effective temperament on the part of the community. If a person
so endowed with a proclivity for exploits is in a position to
guide the development of habits in the adolescent members of the
community, the influence which he exerts in the direction of
conservation and reversion to prowess may be very considerable.
This is the significance, for instance, of the fostering care
latterly bestowed by many clergymen and other pillars of society
upon "boys' brigades" and similar pseudo-military organizations.
The same is true of the encouragement given to the growth of
"college spirit," college athletics, and the like, in the higher
institutions of learning.

These manifestations of the predatory temperament are all to be
classed under the head of exploit. They are partly simple and
unreflected expressions of an attitude of emulative ferocity,
partly activities deliberately entered upon with a view to
gaining repute for prowess. Sports of all kinds are of the same
general character, including prize-fights, bull-fights,
athletics, shooting, angling, yachting, and games of skill, even
where the element of destructive physical efficiency is not an
obtrusive feature. Sports shade off from the basis of hostile
combat, through skill, to cunning and chicanery, without its
being possible to draw a line at any point. The ground of an
addiction to sports is an archaic spiritual constitution -- the
possession of the predatory emulative propensity in a relatively
high potency, a strong proclivity to adventuresome exploit and to
the infliction of damage is especially pronounced in those
employments which are in colloquial usage specifically called
sportsmanship.

It is perhaps truer, or at least more evident, as regards sports
than as regards the other expressions of predatory emulation
already spoken of, that the temperament which inclines men to
them is essentially a boyish temperament. The addiction to
sports, therefore, in a peculiar degree marks an arrested
development of the man's moral nature. This peculiar boyishness
of temperament in sporting men immediately becomes apparent when
attention is directed to the large element of make-believe that
is present in all sporting activity. Sports share this character
of make-believe with the games and exploits to which children,
especially boys, are habitually inclined. Make-believe does not
enter in the same proportion into all sports, but it is present
in a very appreciable degree in all. It is apparently present in
a larger measure in sportsmanship proper and in athletic contests
than in set games of skill of a more sedentary character;
although this rule may not be found to apply with any great
uniformity. It is noticeable, for instance, that even very
mild-mannered and matter-of-fact men who go out shooting are apt
to carry an excess of arms and accoutrements in order to impress
upon their own imagination the seriousness of their undertaking.
These huntsmen are also prone to a histrionic, prancing gait and
to an elaborate exaggeration of the motions, whether of stealth
or of onslaught, involved in their deeds of exploit. Similarly in
athletic sports there is almost invariably present a good share
of rant and swagger and ostensible mystification -- features
which mark the histrionic nature of these employments. In all
this, of course, the reminder of boyish make-believe is plain
enough. The slang of athletics, by the way, is in great part made
up of extremely sanguinary locutions borrowed from the
terminology of warfare. Except where it is adopted as a necessary
means of secret communication, the use of a special slang in any
employment is probably to be accepted as evidence that the
occupation in question is substantially make-believe.

A further feature in which sports differ from the duel and
similar disturbances of the peace is the peculiarity that they
admit of other motives being assigned for them besides the
impulses of exploit and ferocity. There is probably little if any
other motive present in any given case, but the fact that other
reasons for indulging in sports are frequently assigned goes to
say that other grounds are sometimes present in a subsidiary way.
Sportsmen -- hunters and anglers -- are more or less in the habit
of assigning a love of nature, the need of recreation, and the
like, as the incentives to their favorite pastime. These motives
are no doubt frequently present and make up a part of the
attractiveness of the sportsman's life; but these can not be the
chief incentives. These ostensible needs could be more readily
and fully satisfied without the accompaniment of a systematic
effort to take the life of those creatures that make up an
essential feature of that "nature" that is beloved by the
sportsman. It is, indeed, the most noticeable effect of the
sportsman's activity to keep nature in a state of chronic
desolation by killing off all living thing whose destruction he
can compass.

Still, there is ground for the sportsman's claim that under the
existing conventionalities his need of recreation and of contact
with nature can best be satisfied by the course which he takes.
Certain canons of good breeding have been imposed by the
prescriptive example of a predatory leisure class in the past and
have been somewhat painstakingly conserved by the usage of the
latter-day representatives of that class; and these canons will
not permit him, without blame, to seek contact with nature on
other terms. From being an honorable employment handed down from
the predatory culture as the highest form of everyday leisure,
sports have come to be the only form of outdoor activity that has
the full sanction of decorum. Among the proximate incentives to
shooting and angling, then, may be the need of recreation and
outdoor life. The remoter cause which imposes the necessity of
seeking these objects under the cover of systematic slaughter is
a prescription that can not be violated except at the risk of
disrepute and consequent lesion to one's self-respect.

The case of other kinds of sport is somewhat similar. Of these,
athletic games are the best example. Prescriptive usage with
respect to what forms of activity, exercise, and recreation are
permissible under the code of reputable living is of course
present here also. Those who are addicted to athletic sports, or
who admire them, set up the claim that these afford the best
available means of recreation and of "physical culture." And
prescriptive usage gives countenance to the claim. The canons of
reputable living exclude from the scheme of life of the leisure
class all activity that can not be classed as conspicuous
leisure. And consequently they tend by prescription to exclude it
also from the scheme of life of the community generally. At the
same time purposeless physical exertion is tedious and
distasteful beyond tolerance. As has been noticed in another
connection, recourse is in such a case had to some form of
activity which shall at least afford a colorable pretense of
purpose, even if the object assigned be only a make-believe.
Sports satisfy these requirements of substantial futility
together with a colorable make-believe of purpose. In addition to
this they afford scope for emulation, and are attractive also on
that account. In order to be decorous, an employment must conform
to the leisure-class canon of reputable waste; at the same time
all activity, in order to be persisted in as an habitual, even if
only partial, expression of life, must conform to the generically
human canon of efficiency for some serviceable objective end. The
leisure-class canon demands strict and comprehensive futility,
the instinct of workmanship demands purposeful action. The
leisure-class canon of decorum acts slowly and pervasively, by a
selective elimination of all substantially useful or purposeful
modes of action from the accredited scheme of life; the instinct
of workmanship acts impulsively and may be satisfied,
provisionally, with a proximate purpose. It is only as the
apprehended ulterior futility of a given line of action enters
the reflective complex of consciousness as an element essentially
alien to the normally purposeful trend of the life process that
its disquieting and deterrent effect on the consciousness of the
agent is wrought.

The individual's habits of thought make an organic complex, the
trend of which is necessarily in the direction of
serviceability to the life process. When it is attempted to
assimilate systematic waste or futility, as an end in life, into
this organic complex, there presently supervenes a revulsion. But
this revulsion of the organism may be avoided if the attention
can be confined to the proximate, unreflected purpose of
dexterous or emulative exertion. Sports -- hunting, angling,
athletic games, and the like -- afford an exercise for dexterity
and for the emulative ferocity and astuteness characteristic of
predatory life. So long as the individual is but slightly gifted
with reflection or with a sense of the ulterior trend of his
actions so long as his life is substantially a life of naive
impulsive action -- so long the immediate and unreflected
purposefulness of sports, in the way of an expression of
dominance, will measurably satisfy his instinct of workmanship.
This is especially true if his dominant impulses are the
unreflecting emulative propensities of the predaceous
temperament. At the same time the canons of decorum will commend
sports to him as expressions of a pecuniarily blameless life. It
is by meeting these two requirements, of ulterior wastefulness
and proximate purposefulness, that any given employment holds its
place as a traditional and habitual mode of decorous recreation.
In the sense that other forms of recreation and exercise are
morally impossible to persons of good breeding and delicate
sensibilities, then, sports are the best available means of
recreation under existing circumstances.

But those members of respectable society who advocate athletic
games commonly justify their attitude on this head to themselves
and to their neighbors on the ground that these games serve as an
invaluable means of development. They not only improve the
contestant's physique, but it is commonly added that they also
foster a manly spirit, both in the participants and in the
spectators. Football is the particular game which will probably
first occur to any one in this community when the question of the
serviceability of athletic games is raised, as this form of
athletic contest is at present uppermost in the mind of those who
plead for or against games as a means of physical or moral
salvation. This typical athletic sport may, therefore, serve to
illustrate the bearing of athletics upon the development of the
contestant's character and physique. It has been said, not
inaptly, that the relation of football to physical culture is
much the same as that of the bull-fight to agriculture.
Serviceability for these lusory institutions requires sedulous
training or breeding. The material used, whether brute or human,
is subjected to careful selection and discipline, in order to
secure and accentuate certain aptitudes and propensities which
are characteristic of the ferine state, and which tend to
obsolescence under domestication. This does not mean that the
result in either case is an all around and consistent
rehabilitation of the ferine or barbarian habit of mind and body.
The result is rather a one-sided return to barbarism or to the
feroe natura -- a rehabilitation and accentuation of those ferine
traits which make for damage and desolation, without a
corresponding development of the traits which would serve the
individual's self-preservation and fullness of life in a ferine
environment. The culture bestowed in football gives a product of
exotic ferocity and cunning. It is a rehabilitation of the early
barbarian temperament, together with a suppression of those
details of temperament, which, as seen from the standpoint of the
social and economic exigencies, are the redeeming features of the
savage character.

The physical vigor acquired in the training for athletic games --
so far as the training may be said to have this effect -- is of
advantage both to the individual and to the collectivity, in
that, other things being equal, it conduces to economic
serviceability. The spiritual traits which go with athletic
sports are likewise economically advantageous to the individual,
as contradistinguished from the interests of the collectivity.
This holds true in any community where these traits are present
in some degree in the population. Modern competition is in large
part a process of self-assertion on the basis of these traits of
predatory human nature. In the sophisticated form in which they
enter into the modern, peaceable emulation, the possession of
these traits in some measure is almost a necessary of life to the
civilized man. But while they are indispensable to the
competitive individual, they are not directly serviceable to the
community. So far as regards the serviceability of the individual
for the purposes of the collective life, emulative efficiency is
of use only indirectly if at all. Ferocity and cunning are of no
use to the community except in its hostile dealings with other
communities; and they are useful to the individual only because
there is so large a proportion of the same traits actively
present in the human environment to which he is exposed. Any
individual who enters the competitive struggle without the due
endowment of these traits is at a disadvantage, somewhat as a
hornless steer would find himself at a disadvantage in a drove of
horned cattle.

The possession and the cultivation of the predatory traits of
character may, of course, be desirable on other than economic
grounds. There is a prevalent aesthetic or ethical predilection
for the barbarian aptitudes, and the traits in question minister
so effectively to this predilection that their serviceability in
the aesthetic or ethical respect probably offsets any economic
unserviceability which they may give. But for the present purpose
that is beside the point. Therefore nothing is said here as to
the desirability or advisability of sports on the whole, or as to
their value on other than economic grounds.

In popular apprehension there is much that is admirable in the
type of manhood which the life of sport fosters. There is
self-reliance and good-fellowship, so termed in the somewhat
loose colloquial use of the words. From a different point of view
the qualities currently so characterized might be described as
truculence and clannishness. The reason for the current approval
and admiration of these manly qualities, as well as for their
being called manly, is the same as the reason for their
usefulness to the individual. The members of the community, and
especially that class of the community which sets the pace in
canons of taste, are endowed with this range of propensities in
sufficient measure to make their absence in others felt as a
shortcoming, and to make their possession in an exceptional
degree appreciated as an attribute of superior merit. The traits
of predatory man are by no means obsolete in the common run of
modern populations. They are present and can be called out in
bold relief at any time by any appeal to the sentiments in which
they express themselves -- unless this appeal should clash with
the specific activities that make up our habitual occupations and
comprise the general range of our everyday interests. The common
run of the population of any industrial community is emancipated
from these, economically considered, untoward propensities only
in the sense that, through partial and temporary disuse, they
have lapsed into the background of sub-conscious motives. With
varying degrees of potency in different individuals, they remain
available for the aggressive shaping of men's actions and
sentiments whenever a stimulus of more than everyday intensity
comes in to call them forth. And they assert themselves forcibly
in any case where no occupation alien to the predatory culture
has usurped the individual's everyday range of interest and
sentiment. This is the case among the leisure class and among
certain portions of the population which are ancillary to that
class. Hence the facility with which any new accessions to the
leisure class take to sports; and hence the rapid growth of
sports and of the sporting sentient in any industrial community
where wealth has accumulated sufficiently to exempt a
considerable part of the population from work.

A homely and familiar fact may serve to show that the predaceous
impulse does not prevail in the same degree in all classes. Taken
simply as a feature of modern life, the habit of carrying a
walking-stick may seem at best a trivial detail; but the usage
has a significance for the point in question. The classes among
whom the habit most prevails -- the classes with whom the
walking-stick is associated in popular apprehension -- are the
men of the leisure class proper, sporting men, and the
lower-class delinquents. To these might perhaps be added the men
engaged in the pecuniary employments. The same is not true of the
common run of men engaged in industry and it may be noted by the
way that women do not carry a stick except in case of infirmity,
where it has a use of a different kind. The practice is of course
in great measure a matter of polite usage; but the basis of
polite usage is, in turn, the proclivities of the class which
sets the pace in polite usage. The walking-stick serves the
purpose of an advertisement that the bearer's hands are employed
otherwise than in useful effort, and it therefore has utility as
an evidence of leisure. But it is also a weapon, and it meets a
felt need of barbarian man on that ground. The handling of so
tangible and primitive a means of offense is very comforting to
any one who is gifted with even a moderate share of ferocity.
The exigencies of the language make it impossible to avoid an
apparent implication of disapproval of the aptitudes,
propensities, and expressions of life here under discussion. It
is, however, not intended to imply anything in the way of
deprecation or commendation of any one of these phases of human
character or of the life process. The various elements of the
prevalent human nature are taken up from the point of view of
economic theory, and the traits discussed are gauged and graded
with regard to their immediate economic bearing on the facility
of the collective life process. That is to say, these phenomena
are here apprehended from the economic point of view and are
valued with respect to their direct action in furtherance or
hindrance of a more perfect adjustment of the human collectivity
to the environment and to the institutional structure required by
the economic situation of the collectivity for the present and
for the immediate future. For these purposes the traits handed
down from the predatory culture are less serviceable than might
be. Although even in this connection it is not to be overlooked
that the energetic aggressiveness and pertinacity of predatory
man is a heritage of no mean value. The economic value -- with
some regard also to the social value in the narrower sense -- of
these aptitudes and propensities is attempted to be passed upon
without reflecting on their value as seen from another point of
view. When contrasted with the prosy mediocrity of the latter-day
industrial scheme of life, and judged by the accredited standards
of morality, and more especially by the standards of aesthetics
and of poetry, these survivals from a more primitive type of
manhood may have a very different value from that here assigned
them. But all this being foreign to the purpose in hand, no
expression of opinion on this latter head would be in place here.
All that is admissible is to enter the caution that these
standards of excellence, which are alien to the present purpose,
must not be allowed to influence our economic appreciation of
these traits of human character or of the activities which foster
their growth. This applies both as regards those persons who
actively participate in sports and those whose sporting
experience consists in contemplation only. What is here said of
the sporting propensity is likewise pertinent to sundry
reflections presently to be made in this connection on what would
colloquially be known as the religious life.

The last paragraph incidentally touches upon the fact that
everyday speech can scarcely be employed in discussing this class
of aptitudes and activities without implying deprecation or
apology. The fact is significant as showing the habitual attitude
of the dispassionate common man toward the propensities which
express themselves in sports and in exploit generally. And this
is perhaps as convenient a place as any to discuss that undertone
of deprecation which runs through all the voluminous discourse in
defense or in laudation of athletic sports, as well as of other
activities of a predominantly predatory character. The same
apologetic frame of mind is at least beginning to be observable
in the spokesmen of most other institutions handed down from the
barbarian phase of life. Among these archaic institutions which
are felt to need apology are comprised, with others, the entire
existing system of the distribution of wealth, together with the
resulting class distinction of status; all or nearly all forms of
consumption that come under the head of conspicuous waste; the
status of women under the patriarchal system; and many features
of the traditional creeds and devout observances, especially the
exoteric expressions of the creed and the naive apprehension of
received observances. What is to be said in this connection of
the apologetic attitude taken in commending sports and the
sporting character will therefore apply, with a suitable change
in phraseology, to the apologies offered in behalf of these
other, related elements of our social heritage.

There is a feeling -- usually vague and not commonly avowed in so
many words by the apologist himself, but ordinarily
perceptible in the manner of his discourse -- that these sports,
as well as the general range of predaceous impulses and habits of
thought which underlie the sporting character, do not altogether
commend themselves to common sense. "As to the majority of
murderers, they are very incorrect characters." This aphorism
offers a valuation of the predaceous temperament, and of the
disciplinary effects of its overt expression and exercise, as
seen from the moralist's point of view. As such it affords an
indication of what is the deliverance of the sober sense of
mature men as to the degree of availability of the predatory
habit of mind for the purposes of the collective life. It is felt
that the presumption is against any activity which involves
habituation to the predatory attitude, and that the burden of
proof lies with those who speak for the rehabilitation of the
predaceous temper and for the practices which strengthen it.
There is a strong body of popular sentiment in favor of
diversions and enterprises of the kind in question; but there is
at the same time present in the community a pervading sense that
this ground of sentiment wants legitimation. The required
legitimation is ordinarily sought by showing that although sports
are substantially of a predatory, socially disintegrating effect;
although their proximate effect runs in the direction of
reversion to propensities that are industrially disserviceable;
yet indirectly and remotely -- by some not readily comprehensible
process of polar induction, or counter-irritation perhaps --
sports are conceived to foster a habit of mind that is
serviceable for the social or industrial purpose. That is to say,
although sports are essentially of the nature of invidious
exploit, it is presumed that by some remote and obscure effect
they result in the growth of a temperament conducive to
non-invidious work. It is commonly attempted to show all this
empirically or it is rather assumed that this is the empirical
generalization which must be obvious to any one who cares to see
it. In conducting the proof of this thesis the treacherous ground
of inference from cause to effect is somewhat shrewdly avoided,
except so far as to show that the "manly virtues" spoken of above
are fostered by sports. But since it is these manly virtues that
are (economically) in need of legitimation, the chain of proof
breaks off where it should begin. In the most general economic
terms, these apologies are an effort to show that, in spite of
the logic of the thing, sports do in fact further what may
broadly be called workmanship. So long as he has not succeeded in
persuading himself or others that this is their effect the
thoughtful apologist for sports will not rest content, and
commonly, it is to be admitted, he does not rest content. His
discontent with his own vindication of the practice in question
is ordinarily shown by his truculent tone and by the eagerness
with which he heaps up asseverations in support of his position.
But why are apologies needed? If there prevails a body of popular
sentient in favor of sports, why is not that fact a sufficient
legitimation? The protracted discipline of prowess to which the
race has been subjected under the predatory and quasi-peaceable
culture has transmitted to the men of today a temperament that
finds gratification in these expressions of ferocity and cunning.
So, why not accept these sports as legitimate expressions of a
normal and wholesome human nature? What other norm is there that
is to be lived up to than that given in the aggregate range of
propensities that express themselves in the sentiments of this
generation, including the hereditary strain of prowess? The
ulterior norm to which appeal is taken is the instinct of
workmanship, which is an instinct more fundamental, of more
ancient prescription, than the propensity to predatory emulation.
The latter is but a special development of the instinct of
workmanship, a variant, relatively late and ephemeral in spite of
its great absolute antiquity. The emulative predatory impulse --
or the instinct of sportsmanship, as it might well be called --
is essentially unstable in comparison with the primordial
instinct of workmanship out of which it has been developed and
differentiated. Tested by this ulterior norm of life, predatory
emulation, and therefore the life of sports, falls short.

The manner and the measure in which the institution of a leisure
class conduces to the conservation of sports and
invidious exploit can of course not be succinctly stated. From
the evidence already recited it appears that, in sentient and
inclinations, the leisure class is more favorable to a warlike
attitude and animus than the industrial classes. Something
similar seems to be true as regards sports. But it is chiefly in
its indirect effects, though the canons of decorous living, that
the institution has its influence on the prevalent sentiment with
respect to the sporting life. This indirect effect goes almost
unequivocally in the direction of furthering a survival of the
predatory temperament and habits; and this is true even with
respect to those variants of the sporting life which the higher
leisure-class code of proprieties proscribes; as, e.g.,
prize-fighting, cock-fighting, and other like vulgar expressions
of the sporting temper. Whatever the latest authenticated
schedule of detail proprieties may say, the accredited canons of
decency sanctioned by the institution say without equivocation
that emulation and waste are good and their opposites are
disreputable. In the crepuscular light of the social nether
spaces the details of the code are not apprehended with all the
facility that might be desired, and these broad underlying canons
of decency are therefore applied somewhat unreflectingly, with
little question as to the scope of their competence or the
exceptions that have been sanctioned in detail.

Addiction to athletic sports, not only in the way of direct
participation, but also in the way of sentiment and moral
support, is, in a more or less pronounced degree, a
characteristic of the leisure class; and it is a trait which that
class shares with the lower-class delinquents, and with such
atavistic elements throughout the body of the community as are
endowed with a dominant predaceous trend. Few individuals among
the populations of Western civilized countries are so far devoid
of the predaceous instinct as to find no diversion in
contemplating athletic sports and games, but with the common run
of individuals among the industrial classes the inclination to
sports does not assert itself to the extent of constituting what
may fairly be called a sporting habit. With these classes sports
are an occasional diversion rather than a serious feature of
life. This common body of the people can therefore not be said to
cultivate the sporting propensity. Although it is not obsolete in
the average of them, or even in any appreciable number of
individuals, yet the predilection for sports in the commonplace
industrial classes is of the nature of a reminiscence, more or
less diverting as an occasional interest, rather than a vital and
permanent interest that counts as a dominant factor in shaping
the organic complex of habits of thought into which it enters.
As it manifests itself in the sporting life of today, this
propensity may not appear to be an economic factor of grave
consequence. Taken simply by itself it does not count for a great
deal in its direct effects on the industrial efficiency or the
consumption of any given individual; but the prevalence and the
growth of the type of human nature of which this propensity is a
characteristic feature is a matter of some consequence. It
affects the economic life of the collectivity both as regards the
rate of economic development and as regards the character of the
results attained by the development. For better or worse, the
fact that the popular habits of thought are in any degree
dominated by this type of character can not but greatly affect
the scope, direction, standards, and ideals of the collective
economic life, as well as the degree of adjustment of the
collective life to the environment.

Something to a like effect is to be said of other traits that go
to make up the barbarian character. For the purposes of economic
theory, these further barbarian traits may be taken as
concomitant variations of that predaceous temper of which prowess
is an expression. In great measure they are not primarily of an
economic character, nor do they have much direct economic
bearing. They serve to indicate the stage of economic evolution
to which the individual possessed of them is adapted. They are of
importance, therefore, as extraneous tests of the degree of
adaptation of the character in which they are comprised to the
economic exigencies of today, but they are also to some extent
important as being aptitudes which themselves go to increase or
diminish the economic serviceability of the individual.

As it finds expression in the life of the barbarian, prowess
manifests itself in two main directions -- force and fraud. In
varying degrees these two forms of expression are similarly
present in modern warfare, in the pecuniary occupations, and in
sports and games. Both lines of aptitudes are cultivated and
strengthened by the life of sport as well as by the more serious
forms of emulative life. Strategy or cunning is an element
invariably present in games, as also in warlike pursuits and in
the chase. In all of these employments strategy tends to develop
into finesse and chicanery. Chicanery, falsehood, browbeating,
hold a well-secured place in the method of procedure of any
athletic contest and in games generally. The habitual employment
of an umpire, and the minute technical regulations governing the
limits and details of permissible fraud and strategic advantage,
sufficiently attest the fact that fraudulent practices and
attempts to overreach one's opponents are not adventitious
features of the game. In the nature of the case habituation to
sports should conduce to a fuller development of the aptitude for
fraud; and the prevalence in the community of that predatory
temperament which inclines men to sports connotes a prevalence of
sharp practice and callous disregard of the interests of others,
individually and collectively. Resort to fraud, in any guise and
under any legitimation of law or custom, is an expression of a
narrowly self-regarding habit of mind. It is needless to dwell at
any length on the economic value of this feature of the sporting
character.

In this connection it is to be noted that the most obvious
characteristic of the physiognomy affected by athletic and other
sporting men is that of an extreme astuteness. The gifts and
exploits of Ulysses are scarcely second to those of Achilles,
either in their substantial furtherance of the game or in the
éclat which they give the astute sporting man among his
associates. The pantomime of astuteness is commonly the first
step in that assimilation to the professional sporting man which
a youth undergoes after matriculation in any reputable school, of
the secondary or the higher education, as the case may be. And
the physiognomy of astuteness, as a decorative feature, never
ceases to receive the thoughtful attention of men whose serious
interest lies in athletic games, races, or other contests of a
similar emulative nature. As a further indication of their
spiritual kinship, it may be pointed out that the members of the
lower delinquent class usually show this physiognomy of
astuteness in a marked degree, and that they very commonly show
the same histrionic exaggeration of it that is often seen in the
young candidate for athletic honors. This, by the way, is the
most legible mark of what is vulgarly called "toughness" in
youthful aspirants for a bad name.

The astute man, it may be remarked, is of no economic value to
the community -- unless it be for the purpose of sharp
practice in dealings with other communities. His functioning is
not a furtherance of the generic life process. At its best, in
its direct economic bearing, it is a conversion of the economic
substance of the collectivity to a growth alien to the collective
life process -- very much after the analogy of what in medicine
would be called a benign tumor, with some tendency to transgress
the uncertain line that divides the benign from the malign
growths. The two barbarian traits, ferocity and astuteness, go to
make up the predaceous temper or spiritual attitude. They are the
expressions of a narrowly self-regarding habit of mind. Both are
highly serviceable for individual expediency in a life looking to
invidious success. Both also have a high aesthetic value. Both
are fostered by the pecuniary culture. But both alike are of no
use for the purposes of the collective life.




Chapter Eleven

The Belief in Luck

The gambling propensity is another subsidiary trait of the
barbarian temperament. It is a concomitant variation of character
of almost universal prevalence among sporting men and among men
given to warlike and emulative activities generally. This trait
also has a direct economic value. It is recognized to be a
hindrance to the highest industrial efficiency of the aggregate
in any community where it prevails in an appreciable degree.
The gambling proclivity is doubtfully to be classed as a feature
belonging exclusively to the predatory type of human nature. The
chief factor in the gambling habit is the belief in luck; and
this belief is apparently traceable, at least in its elements, to
a stage in human evolution antedating the predatory culture. It
may well have been under the predatory culture that the belief in
luck was developed into the form in which it is present, as the
chief element of the gambling proclivity, in the sporting
temperament. It probably owes the specific form under which it
occurs in the modern culture to the predatory discipline. But the
belief in luck is in substance a habit of more ancient date than
the predatory culture. It is one form of the artistic
apprehension of things. The belief seems to be a trait carried
over in substance from an earlier phase into the barbarian
culture, and transmuted and transmitted through that culture to a
later stage of human development under a specific form imposed by
the predatory discipline. But in any case, it is to be taken as
an archaic trait, inherited from a more or less remote past, more
or less incompatible with the requirements of the modern
industrial process, and more or less of a hindrance to the
fullest efficiency of the collective economic life of the
present.

While the belief in luck is the basis of the gambling habit, it
is not the only element that enters into the habit of betting.
Betting on the issue of contests of strength and skill proceeds
on a further motive, without which the belief in luck would
scarcely come in as a prominent feature of sporting life. This
further motive is the desire of the anticipated winner, or the
partisan of the anticipated winning side, to heighten his side's
ascendency at the cost of the loser. Not only does the stronger
side score a more signal victory, and the losing side suffer a
more painful and humiliating defeat, in proportion as the
pecuniary gain and loss in the wager is large; although this
alone is a consideration of material weight. But the wager is
commonly laid also with a view, not avowed in words nor even
recognized in set terms in petto, to enhancing the chances of
success for the contestant on which it is laid. It is felt that
substance and solicitude expended to this end can not go for
naught in the issue. There is here a special manifestation of the
instinct of workmanship, backed by an even more manifest sense
that the animistic congruity of things must decide for a
victorious outcome for the side in whose behalf the propensity
inherent in events has been propitiated and fortified by so much
of conative and kinetic urging. This incentive to the wager
expresses itself freely under the form of backing one's favorite
in any contest, and it is unmistakably a predatory feature. It is
as ancillary to the predaceous impulse proper that the belief in
luck expresses itself in a wager. So that it may be set down that
in so far as the belief in luck comes to expression in the form
of laying a wager, it is to be accounted an integral element of
the predatory type of character. The belief is, in its elements,
an archaic habit which belongs substantially to early,
undifferentiated human nature; but when this belief is helped out
by the predatory emulative impulse, and so is differentiated into
the specific form of the gambling habit, it is, in this
higher-developed and specific form, to be classed as a trait of
the barbarian character.

The belief in luck is a sense of fortuitous necessity in the
sequence of phenomena. In its various mutations and expressions,
it is of very serious importance for the economic efficiency of
any community in which it prevails to an appreciable extent. So
much so as to warrant a more detailed discussion of its origin
and content and of the bearing of its various ramifications upon
economic structure and function, as well as a discussion of the
relation of the leisure class to its growth, differentiation, and
persistence. In the developed, integrated form in which it is
most readily observed in the barbarian of the predatory culture
or in the sporting man of modern communities, the belief
comprises at least two distinguishable elements -- which are to
be taken as two different phases of the same fundamental habit of
thought, or as the same psychological factor in two successive
phases of its evolution. The fact that these two elements are
successive phases of the same general line of growth of belief
does not hinder their coexisting in the habits of thought of any
given individual. The more primitive form (or the more archaic
phase) is an incipient animistic belief, or an animistic sense of
relations and things, that imputes a quasi-personal character to
facts. To the archaic man all the obtrusive and obviously
consequential objects and facts in his environment have a
quasi-personal individuality. They are conceived to be possessed
of volition, or rather of propensities, which enter into the
complex of causes and affect events in an inscrutable manner. The
sporting man's sense of luck and chance, or of fortuitous
necessity, is an inarticulate or inchoate animism. It applies to
objects and situations, often in a very vague way; but it is
usually so far defined as to imply the possibility of
propitiating, or of deceiving and cajoling, or otherwise
disturbing the holding of propensities resident in the objects
which constitute the apparatus and accessories of any game of
skill or chance. There are few sporting men who are not in the
habit of wearing charms or talismans to which more or less of
efficacy is felt to belong. And the proportion is not much less
of those who instinctively dread the "hoodooing" of the
contestants or the apparatus engaged in any contest on which they
lay a wager; or who feel that the fact of their backing a given
contestant or side in the game does and ought to strengthen that
side; or to whom the "mascot" which they cultivate means
something more than a jest.

In its simple form the belief in luck is this instinctive sense
of an inscrutable teleological propensity in objects or
situations. Objects or events have a propensity to eventuate in a
given end, whether this end or objective point of the sequence is
conceived to be fortuitously given or deliberately sought. From
this simple animism the belief shades off by insensible
gradations into the second, derivative form or phase above
referred to, which is a more or less articulate belief in an
inscrutable preternatural agency. The preternatural agency works
through the visible objects with which it is associated, but is
not identified with these objects in point of individuality. The
use of the term "preternatural agency" here carries no further
implication as to the nature of the agency spoken of as
preternatural. This is only a farther development of animistic
belief. The preternatural agency is not necessarily conceived to
be a personal agent in the full sense, but it is an agency which
partakes of the attributes of personality to the extent of
somewhat arbitrarily influencing the outcome of any enterprise,
and especially of any contest. The pervading belief in the
hamingia or gipta (gaefa, authna) which lends so much of color to
the Icelandic sagas specifically, and to early Germanic
folk-legends, is an illustration of this sense of an
extra-physical propensity in the course of events.

In this expression or form of the belief the propensity is
scarcely personified although to a varying extent an
individuality is imputed to it; and this individuated propensity
is sometimes conceived to yield to circumstances, commonly to
circumstances of a spiritual or preternatural character. A
well-known and striking exemplification of the belief -- in a
fairly advanced stage of differentiation and involving an
anthropomorphic personification of the preternatural agent
appealed to -- is afforded by the wager of battle. Here the
preternatural agent was conceived to act on request as umpire,
and to shape the outcome of the contest in accordance with some
stipulated ground of decision, such as the equity or legality of
the respective contestants' claims. The like sense of an
inscrutable but spiritually necessary tendency in events is still
traceable as an obscure element in current popular belief, as
shown, for instance, by the well-accredited maxim, "Thrice is he
armed who knows his quarrel just," -- a maxim which retains much
of its significance for the average unreflecting person even in
the civilized communities of today. The modern reminiscence of
the belief in the hamingia, or in the guidance of an unseen hand,
which is traceable in the acceptance of this maxim is faint and
perhaps uncertain; and it seems in any case to be blended with
other psychological moments that are not clearly of an animistic
character.

For the purpose in hand it is unnecessary to look more closely
into the psychological process or the ethnological line of
descent by which the later of these two animistic
apprehensions of propensity is derived from the earlier. This
question may be of the gravest importance to folk-psychology or
to the theory of the evolution of creeds and cults. The same is
true of the more fundamental question whether the two are related
at all as successive phases in a sequence of development.
Reference is here made to the existence of these questions only
to remark that the interest of the present discussion does not
lie in that direction. So far as concerns economic theory, these
two elements or phases of the belief in luck, or in an
extra-causal trend or propensity in things, are of substantially
the same character. They have an economic significance as habits
of thought which affect the individual's habitual view of the
facts and sequences with which he comes in contact, and which
thereby affect the individual's serviceability for the industrial
purpose. Therefore, apart from all question of the beauty, worth,
or beneficence of any animistic belief, there is place for a
discussion of their economic bearing on the serviceability of the
individual as an economic factor, and especially as an industrial
agent.

It has already been noted in an earlier connection, that in order
to have the highest serviceability in the complex
industrial processes of today, the individual must be endowed
with the aptitude and the habit of readily apprehending and
relating facts in terms of causal sequence. Both as a whole and
in its details, the industrial process is a process of
quantitative causation. The "intelligence" demanded of the
workman, as well as of the director of an industrial process, is
little else than a degree of facility in the apprehension of and
adaptation to a quantitatively determined causal sequence. This
facility of apprehension and adaptation is what is lacking in
stupid workmen, and the growth of this facility is the end sought
in their education -- so far as their education aims to enhance
their industrial efficiency.

In so far as the individual's inherited aptitudes or his training
incline him to account for facts and sequences in other terms
than those of causation or matter-of-fact, they lower his
productive efficiency or industrial usefulness. This lowering of
efficiency through a penchant for animistic methods of
apprehending facts is especially apparent when taken in the
mass-when a given population with an animistic turn is viewed as
a whole. The economic drawbacks of animism are more patent and
its consequences are more far-reaching under the modern system of
large industry than under any other. In the modern industrial
communities, industry is, to a constantly increasing extent,
being organized in a comprehensive system of organs and functions
mutually conditioning one another; and therefore freedom from all
bias in the causal apprehension of phenomena grows constantly
more requisite to efficiency on the part of the men concerned in
industry. Under a system of handicraft an advantage in dexterity,
diligence, muscular force, or endurance may, in a very large
measure, offset such a bias in the habits of thought of the
workmen.

Similarly in agricultural industry of the traditional kind, which
closely resembles handicraft in the nature of the demands made
upon the workman. In both, the workman is himself the prime mover
chiefly depended upon, and the natural forces engaged are in
large part apprehended as inscrutable and fortuitous agencies,
whose working lies beyond the workman's control or discretion. In
popular apprehension there is in these forms of industry
relatively little of the industrial process left to the fateful
swing of a comprehensive mechanical sequence which must be
comprehended in terms of causation and to which the operations of
industry and the movements of the workmen must be adapted. As
industrial methods develop, the virtues of the handicraftsman
count for less and less as an offset to scanty intelligence or a
halting acceptance of the sequence of cause and effect. The
industrial organization assumes more and more of the character of
a mechanism, in which it is man's office to discriminate and
select what natural forces shall work out their effects in his
service. The workman's part in industry changes from that of a
prime mover to that of discrimination and valuation of
quantitative sequences and mechanical facts. The faculty of a
ready apprehension and unbiased appreciation of causes in his
environment grows in relative economic importance and any element
in the complex of his habits of thought which intrudes a bias at
variance with this ready appreciation of matter-of-fact sequence
gains proportionately in importance as a disturbing element
acting to lower his industrial usefulness. Through its cumulative
effect upon the habitual attitude of the population, even a
slight or inconspicuous bias towards accounting for everyday
facts by recourse to other ground than that of quantitative
causation may work an appreciable lowering of the collective
industrial efficiency of a community.

The animistic habit of mind may occur in the early,
undifferentiated form of an inchoate animistic belief, or in the
later and more highly integrated phase in which there is an
anthropomorphic personification of the propensity imputed to
facts. The industrial value of such a lively animistic sense, or
of such recourse to a preternatural agency or the guidance of an
unseen hand, is of course very much the same in either case. As
affects the industrial serviceability of the individual, the
effect is of the same kind in either case; but the extent to
which this habit of thought dominates or shapes the complex of
his habits of thought varies with the degree of immediacy,
urgency, or exclusiveness with which the individual habitually
applies the animistic or anthropomorphic formula in dealing with
the facts of his environment. The animistic habit acts in all
cases to blur the appreciation of causal sequence; but the
earlier, less reflected, less defined animistic sense of
propensity may be expected to affect the intellectual processes
of the individual in a more pervasive way than the higher forms
of anthropomorphism. Where the animistic habit is present in the
naive form, its scope and range of application are not defined or
limited. It will therefore palpably affect his thinking at every
turn of the person's life -- wherever he has to do with the
material means of life. In the later, maturer development of
animism, after it has been defined through the process of
anthropomorphic elaboration, when its application has been
limited in a somewhat consistent fashion to the remote and the
invisible, it comes about that an increasing range of everyday
facts are provisionally accounted for without recourse to the
preternatural agency in which a cultivated animism expresses
itself. A highly integrated, personified preternatural agency is
not a convenient means of handling the trivial occurrences of
life, and a habit is therefore easily fallen into of accounting
for many trivial or vulgar phenomena in terms of sequence. The
provisional explanation so arrived at is by neglect allowed to
stand as definitive, for trivial purposes, until special
provocation or perplexity recalls the individual to his
allegiance. But when special exigencies arise, that is to say,
when there is peculiar need of a full and free recourse to the
law of cause and effect, then the individual commonly has
recourse to the preternatural agency as a universal solvent, if
he is possessed of an anthropomorphic belief.

The extra-causal propensity or agent has a very high utility as a
recourse in perplexity, but its utility is altogether of a
non-economic kind. It is especially a refuge and a fund of
comfort where it has attained the degree of consistency and
specialization that belongs to an anthropomorphic divinity. It
has much to commend it even on other grounds than that of
affording the perplexed individual a means of escape from the
difficulty of accounting for phenomena in terms of causal
sequence. It would scarcely be in place here to dwell on the
obvious and well-accepted merits of an anthropomorphic divinity,
as seen from the point of view of the aesthetic, moral, or
spiritual interest, or even as seen from the less remote
standpoint of political, military, or social policy. The question
here concerns the less picturesque and less urgent economic value
of the belief in such a preternatural agency, taken as a habit of
thought which affects the industrial serviceability of the
believer. And even within this narrow, economic range, the
inquiry is perforce confined to the immediate bearing of this
habit of thought upon the believer's workmanlike serviceability,
rather than extended to include its remoter economic effects.
These remoter effects are very difficult to trace. The inquiry
into them is so encumbered with current preconceptions as to the
degree in which life is enhanced by spiritual contact with such a
divinity, that any attempt to inquire into their economic value
must for the present be fruitless.

The immediate, direct effect of the animistic habit of thought
upon the general frame of mind of the believer goes in the
direction of lowering his effective intelligence in the respect
in which intelligence is of especial consequence for modern
industry. The effect follows, in varying degree, whether the
preternatural agent or propensity believed in is of a higher or a
lower cast. This holds true of the barbarian's and the sporting
man's sense of luck and propensity, and likewise of the somewhat
higher developed belief in an anthropomorphic divinity, such as
is commonly possessed by the same class. It must be taken to hold
true also -- though with what relative degree of cogency is not
easy to say -- of the more adequately developed anthropomorphic
cults, such as appeal to the devout civilized man. The industrial
disability entailed by a popular adherence to one of the higher
anthropomorphic cults may be relatively slight, but it is not to
be overlooked. And even these high-class cults of the Western
culture do not represent the last dissolving phase of this human
sense of extra-causal propensity. Beyond these the same animistic
sense shows itself also in such attenuations of anthropomorphism
as the eighteenth-century appeal to an order of nature and
natural rights, and in their modern representative, the
ostensibly post-Darwinian concept of a meliorative trend in the
process of evolution. This animistic explanation of phenomena is
a form of the fallacy which the logicians knew by the name of
ignava ratio. For the purposes of industry or of science it
counts as a blunder in the apprehension and valuation of facts.
Apart from its direct industrial consequences, the animistic
habit has a certain significance for economic theory on other
grounds. (1) It is a fairly reliable indication of the presence,
and to some extent even of the degree of potency, of certain
other archaic traits that accompany it and that are of
substantial economic consequence; and (2) the material
consequences of that code of devout proprieties to which the
animistic habit gives rise in the development of an
anthropomorphic cult are of importance both (a) as affecting the
community's consumption of goods and the prevalent canons of
taste, as already suggested in an earlier chapter, and (b) by
inducing and conserving a certain habitual recognition of the
relation to a superior, and so stiffening the current sense of
status and allegiance.

As regards the point last named (b), that body of habits of
thought which makes up the character of any individual is in some
sense an organic whole. A marked variation in a given direction
at any one point carries with it, as its correlative, a
concomitant variation in the habitual expression of life in other
directions or other groups of activities. These various habits of
thought, or habitual expressions of life, are all phases of the
single life sequence of the individual; therefore a habit formed
in response to a given stimulus will necessarily affect the
character of the response made to other stimuli. A modification
of human nature at any one point is a modification of human
nature as a whole. On this ground, and perhaps to a still greater
extent on obscurer grounds that can not be discussed here, there
are these concomitant variations as between the different traits
of human nature. So, for instance, barbarian peoples with a
well-developed predatory scheme of life are commonly also
possessed of a strong prevailing animistic habit, a well-formed
anthropomorphic cult, and a lively sense of status. On the other
hand, anthropomorphism and the realizing sense of an animistic
propensity in material are less obtrusively present in the life
of the peoples at the cultural stages which precede and which
follow the barbarian culture. The sense of status is also
feebler; on the whole, in peaceable communities. It is to be
remarked that a lively, but slightly specialized, animistic
belief is to be found in most if not all peoples living in the
ante-predatory, savage stage of culture. The primitive savage
takes his animism less seriously than the barbarian or the
degenerate savage. With him it eventuates in fantastic
myth-making, rather than in coercive superstition. The barbarian
culture shows sportsmanship, status, and anthropomorphism. There
is commonly observable a like concomitance of variations in the
same respects in the individual temperament of men in the
civilized communities of today. Those modern representatives of
the predaceous barbarian temper that make up the sporting element
are commonly believers in luck; at least they have a strong sense
of an animistic propensity in things, by force of which they are
given to gambling. So also as regards anthropomorphism in this
class. Such of them as give in their adhesion to some creed
commonly attach themselves to one of the naively and consistently
anthropomorphic creeds; there are relatively few sporting men who
seek spiritual comfort in the less anthropomorphic cults, such as
the Unitarian or the Universalist.

Closely bound up with this correlation of anthropomorphism and
prowess is the fact that anthropomorphic cults act to
conserve, if not to initiate, habits of mind favorable to a
regime of status. As regards this point, it is quite impossible
to say where the disciplinary effect of the cult ends and where
the evidence of a concomitance of variations in inherited traits
begins. In their finest development, the predatory temperament,
the sense of status, and the anthropomorphic cult all together
belong to the barbarian culture; and something of a mutual causal
relation subsists between the three phenomena as they come into
sight in communities on that cultural level. The way in which
they recur in correlation in the habits and attitudes of
individuals and classes today goes far to imply a like causal or
organic relation between the same psychological phenomena
considered as traits or habits of the individual. It has appeared
at an earlier point in the discussion that the relation of
status, as a feature of social structure, is a consequence of the
predatory habit of life. As regards its line of derivation, it is
substantially an elaborated expression of the predatory attitude.
On the other hand, an anthropomorphic cult is a code of detailed
relations of status superimposed upon the concept of a
preternatural, inscrutable propensity in material things. So
that, as regards the external facts of its derivation, the cult
may be taken as an outgrowth of archaic man's pervading animistic
sense, defined and in some degree transformed by the predatory
habit of life, the result being a personified preternatural
agency, which is by imputation endowed with a full complement of
the habits of thought that characterize the man of the predatory
culture.

The grosser psychological features in the case, which have an
immediate bearing on economic theory and are consequently to be
taken account of here, are therefore: (a) as has appeared in an
earlier chapter, the predatory, emulative habit of mind here
called prowess is but the barbarian variant of the generically
human instinct of workmanship, which has fallen into this
specific form under the guidance of a habit of invidious
comparison of persons; (b) the relation of status is a formal
expression of such an invidious comparison duly gauged and graded
according to a sanctioned schedule; (c) an anthropomorphic cult,
in the days of its early vigor at least, is an institution the
characteristic element of which is a relation of status between
the human subject as inferior and the personified preternatural
agency as superior. With this in mind, there should be no
difficulty in recognizing the intimate relation which subsists
between these three phenomena of human nature and of human life;
the relation amounts to an identity in some of their substantial
elements. On the one hand, the system of status and the predatory
habit of life are an expression of the instinct of workmanship as
it takes form under a custom of invidious comparison; on the
other hand, the anthropomorphic cult and the habit of devout
observances are an expression of men's animistic sense of a
propensity in material things, elaborated under the guidance of
substantially the same general habit of invidious comparison. The
two categories -- the emulative habit of life and the habit of
devout observances -- are therefore to be taken as complementary
elements of the barbarian type of human nature and of its modern
barbarian variants. They are expressions of much the same range
of aptitudes, made in response to different sets of stimuli.




Chapter Twelve

Devout Observances

A discoursive rehearsal of certain incidents of modern life will
show the organic relation of the anthropomorphic cults to the
barbarian culture and temperament. It will likewise serve to show
how the survival and efficacy of the cults and he prevalence of
their schedule of devout observances are related to the
institution of a leisure class and to the springs of action
underlying that institution. Without any intention to commend or
to deprecate the practices to be spoken of under the head of
devout observances, or the spiritual and intellectual traits of
which these observances are the expression, the everyday
phenomena of current anthropomorphic cults may be taken up from
the point of view of the interest which they have for economic
theory. What can properly be spoken of here are the tangible,
external features of devout observances. The moral, as well as
the devotional value of the life of faith lies outside of the
scope of the present inquiry. Of course no question is here
entertained as to the truth or beauty of the creeds on which the
cults proceed. And even their remoter economic bearing can not be
taken up here; the subject is too recondite and of too grave
import to find a place in so slight a sketch.

Something has been said in an earlier chapter as to the influence
which pecuniary standards of value exert upon the processes of
valuation carried out on other bases, not related to the
pecuniary interest. The relation is not altogether one-sided. The
economic standards or canons of valuation are in their turn
influenced by extra-economic standards of value. Our judgments of
the economic bearing of facts are to some extent shaped by the
dominant presence of these weightier interests. There is a point
of view, indeed, from which the economic interest is of weight
only as being ancillary to these higher, non-economic interests.
For the present purpose, therefore, some thought must be taken to
isolate the economic interest or the economic hearing of these
phenomena of anthropomorphic cults. It takes some effort to
divest oneself of the more serious point of view, and to reach an
economic appreciation of these facts, with as little as may be of
the bias due to higher interests extraneous to economic theory.
In the discussion of the sporting temperament, it has
appeared that the sense of an animistic propensity in material
things and events is what affords the spiritual basis of the
sporting man's gambling habit. For the economic purpose, this
sense of propensity is substantially the same psychological
element as expresses itself, under a variety of forms, in
animistic beliefs and anthropomorphic creeds. So far as concerns
those tangible psychological features with which economic theory
has to deal, the gambling spirit which pervades the sporting
element shades off by insensible gradations into that frame of
mind which finds gratification in devout observances. As seen
from the point of view of economic theory, the sporting character
shades off into the character of a religious devotee. Where the
betting man's animistic sense is helped out by a somewhat
consistent tradition, it has developed into a more or less
articulate belief in a preternatural or hyperphysical agency,
with something of an anthropomorphic content. And where this is
the case, there is commonly a perceptible inclination to make
terms with the preternatural agency by some approved method of
approach and conciliation. This element of propitiation and
cajoling has much in common with the crasser forms of worship --
if not in historical derivation, at least in actual psychological
content. It obviously shades off in unbroken continuity into what
is recognized as superstitious practice and belief, and so
asserts its claim to kinship with the grosser anthropomorphic
cults.

The sporting or gambling temperament, then, comprises some of the
substantial psychological elements that go to make a believer in
creeds and an observer of devout forms, the chief point of
coincidence being the belief in an inscrutable propensity or a
preternatural interposition in the sequence of events. For the
purpose of the gambling practice the belief in preternatural
agency may be, and ordinarily is, less closely formulated,
especially as regards the habits of thought and the scheme of
life imputed to the preternatural agent; or, in other words, as
regards his moral character and his purposes in interfering in
events. With respect to the individuality or personality of the
agency whose presence as luck, or chance, or hoodoo, or mascot,
etc., he feels and sometimes dreads and endeavors to evade, the
sporting man's views are also less specific, less integrated and
differentiated. The basis of his gambling activity is, in great
measure, simply an instinctive sense of the presence of a
pervasive extraphysical and arbitrary force or propensity in
things or situations, which is scarcely recognized as a personal
agent. The betting man is not infrequently both a believer in
luck, in this naive sense, and at the same time a pretty staunch
adherent of some form of accepted creed. He is especially prone
to accept so much of the creed as concerts the inscrutable power
and the arbitrary habits of the divinity which has won his
confidence. In such a case he is possessed of two, or sometimes
more than two, distinguishable phases of animism. Indeed, the
complete series of successive phases of animistic belief is to be
found unbroken in the spiritual furniture of any sporting
community. Such a chain of animistic conceptions will comprise
the most elementary form of an instinctive sense of luck and
chance and fortuitous necessity at one end of the series,
together with the perfectly developed anthropomorphic divinity at
the other end, with all intervening stages of integration.
Coupled with these beliefs in preternatural agency goes an
instinctive shaping of conduct to conform with the surmised
requirements of the lucky chance on the one hand, and a more or
less devout submission to the inscrutable decrees of the divinity
on the other hand.

There is a relationship in this respect between the sporting
temperament and the temperament of the delinquent classes; and
the two are related to the temperament which inclines to an
anthropomorphic cult. Both the delinquent and the sporting man
are on the average more apt to be adherents of some accredited
creed, and are also rather more inclined to devout observances,
than the general average of the community. It is also noticeable
that unbelieving members of these classes show more of a
proclivity to become proselytes to some accredited faith than the
average of unbelievers. This fact of observation is avowed by the
spokesmen of sports, especially in apologizing for the more
naively predatory athletic sports. Indeed, it is somewhat
insistently claimed as a meritorious feature of sporting life
that the habitual participants in athletic games are in some
degree peculiarly given to devout practices. And it is observable
that the cult to which sporting men and the predaceous delinquent
classes adhere, or to which proselytes from these classes
commonly attach themselves, is ordinarily not one of the
so-called higher faiths, but a cult which has to do with a
thoroughly anthropomorphic divinity. Archaic, predatory human
nature is not satisfied with abstruse conceptions of a dissolving
personality that shades off into the concept of quantitative
causal sequence, such as the speculative, esoteric creeds of
Christendom impute to the First Cause, Universal Intelligence,
World Soul, or Spiritual Aspect. As an instance of a cult of the
character which the habits of mind of the athlete and the
delinquent require, may be cited that branch of the church
militant known as the Salvation Army. This is to some extent
recruited from the lower-class delinquents, and it appears to
comprise also, among its officers especially, a larger proportion
of men with a sporting record than the proportion of such men in
the aggregate population of the community.

College athletics afford a case in point. It is contended by
exponents of the devout element in college life -- and there
seems to be no ground for disputing the claim -- that the
desirable athletic material afforded by any student body in this
country is at the same time predominantly religious; or that it
is at least given to devout observances to a greater degree than
the average of those students whose interest in athletics and
other college sports is less. This is what might be expected on
theoretical grounds. It may be remarked, by the way, that from
one point of view this is felt to reflect credit on the college
sporting life, on athletic games, and on those persons who occupy
themselves with these matters. It happens not frequently that
college sporting men devote themselves to religious propaganda,
either as a vocation or as a by-occupation; and it is observable
that when this happens they are likely to become propagandists of
some one of the more anthropomorphic cults. In their teaching
they are apt to insist chiefly on the personal relation of status
which subsists between an anthropomorphic divinity and the human
subject.

This intimate relation between athletics and devout
observance among college men is a fact of sufficient notoriety;
but it has a special feature to which attention has not been
called, although it is obvious enough. The religious zeal which
pervades much of the college sporting element is especially prone
to express itself in an unquestioning devoutness and a naive and
complacent submission to an inscrutable Providence. It therefore
by preference seeks affliation with some one of those lay
religious organizations which occupy themselves with the spread
of the exoteric forms of faith -- as, e.g., the Young Men's
Christian Association or the Young People's Society for Christian
Endeavor. These lay bodies are organized to further "practical"
religion; and as if to enforce the argument and firmly establish
the close relationship between the sporting temperament and the
archaic devoutness, these lay religious bodies commonly devote
some appreciable portion of their energies to the furtherance of
athletic contests and similar games of chance and skill. It might
even be said that sports of this kind are apprehended to have
some efficacy as a means of grace. They are apparently useful as
a means of proselyting, and as a means of sustaining the devout
attitude in converts once made. That is to say, the games which
give exercise to the animistic sense and to the emulative
propensity help to form and to conserve that habit of mind to
which the more exoteric cults are congenial. Hence, in the hands
of the lay organizations, these sporting activities come to do
duty as a novitiate or a means of induction into that fuller
unfolding of the life of spiritual status which is the privilege
of the full communicant along.

That the exercise of the emulative and lower animistic
proclivities are substantially useful for the devout purpose
seems to be placed beyond question by the fact that the
priesthood of many denominations is following the lead of the lay
organizations in this respect. Those ecclesiastical organizations
especially which stand nearest the lay organizations in their
insistence on practical religion have gone some way towards
adopting these or analogous practices in connection with the
traditional devout observances. So there are "boys' brigades,"
and other organizations, under clerical sanction, acting to
develop the emulative proclivity and the sense of status in the
youthful members of the congregation. These pseudo-military
organizations tend to elaborate and accentuate the proclivity to
emulation and invidious comparison, and so strengthen the native
facility for discerning and approving the relation of personal
mastery and subservience. And a believer is eminently a person
who knows how to obey and accept chastisement with good grace.
But the habits of thought which these practices foster and
conserve make up but one half of the substance of the
anthropomorphic cults. The other, complementary element of devout
life -- the animistic habit of mind -- is recruited and conserved
by a second range of practices organized under clerical sanction.
These are the class of gambling practices of which the church
bazaar or raffle may be taken as the type. As indicating the
degree of legitimacy of these practices in connection with devout
observances proper, it is to be remarked that these raffles, and
the like trivial opportunities for gambling, seem to appeal with
more effect to the common run of the members of religious
organizations than they do to persons of a less devout habit of
mind.

All this seems to argue, on the one hand, that the same
temperament inclines people to sports as inclines them to the
anthropomorphic cults, and on the other hand that the habituation
to sports, perhaps especially to athletic sports, acts to develop
the propensities which find satisfaction in devout observances.
Conversely; it also appears that habituation to these observances
favors the growth of a proclivity for athletic sports and for all
games that give play to the habit of invidious comparison and of
the appeal to luck. Substantially the same range of propensities
finds expression in both these directions of the spiritual life.
That barbarian human nature in which the predatory instinct and
the animistic standpoint predominate is normally prone to both.
The predatory habit of mind involves an accentuated sense of
personal dignity and of the relative standing of individuals. The
social structure in which the predatory habit has been the
dominant factor in the shaping of institutions is a structure
based on status. The pervading norm in the predatory community's
scheme of life is the relation of superior and inferior, noble
and base, dominant and subservient persons and classes, master
and slave. The anthropomorphic cults have come down from that
stage of industrial development and have been shaped by the same
scheme of economic differentiation -- a differentiation into
consumer and producer -- and they are pervaded by the same
dominant principle of mastery and subservience. The cults impute
to their divinity the habits of thought answering to the stage of
economic differentiation at which the cults took shape. The
anthropomorphic divinity is conceived to be punctilious in all
questions of precedence and is prone to an assertion of mastery
and an arbitrary exercise of power -- an habitual resort to force
as the final arbiter.

In the later and maturer formulations of the anthropomorphic
creed this imputed habit of dominance on the part of a divinity
of awful presence and inscrutable power is chastened into "the
fatherhood of God." The spiritual attitude and the aptitudes
imputed to the preternatural agent are still such as belong under
the regime of status, but they now assume the patriarchal cast
characteristic of the quasi-peaceable stage of culture. Still it
is to be noted that even in this advanced phase of the cult the
observances in which devoutness finds expression consistently aim
to propitiate the divinity by extolling his greatness and glory
and by professing subservience and fealty. The act of
propitiation or of worship is designed to appeal to a sense of
status imputed to the inscrutable power that is thus approached.
The propitiatory formulas most in vogue are still such as carry
or imply an invidious comparison. A loyal attachment to the
person of an anthropomorphic divinity endowed with such an
archaic human nature implies the like archaic propensities in the
devotee. For the purposes of economic theory, the relation of
fealty, whether to a physical or to an extraphysical person, is
to be taken as a variant of that personal subservience which
makes up so large a share of the predatory and the
quasi-peaceable scheme of life.

The barbarian conception of the divinity, as a warlike chieftain
inclined to an overbearing manner of government, has been greatly
softened through the milder manners and the soberer habits of
life that characterize those cultural phases which lie between
the early predatory stage and the present. But even after this
chastening of the devout fancy, and the consequent mitigation of
the harsher traits of conduct and character that are currently
imputed to the divinity, there still remains in the popular
apprehension of the divine nature and temperament a very
substantial residue of the barbarian conception. So it comes
about, for instance, that in characterizing the divinity and his
relations to the process of human life, speakers and writers are
still able to make effective use of similes borrowed from the
vocabulary of war and of the predatory manner of life, as well as
of locutions which involve an invidious comparison. Figures of
speech of this import are used with good effect even in
addressing the less warlike modern audiences, made up of
adherents of the blander variants of the creed. This effective
use of barbarian epithets and terms of comparison by popular
speakers argues that the modern generation has retained a lively
appreciation of the dignity and merit of the barbarian virtues;
and it argues also that there is a degree of congruity between
the devout attitude and the predatory habit of mind. It is only
on second thought, if at all, that the devout fancy of modern
worshippers revolts at the imputation of ferocious and vengeful
emotions and actions to the object of their adoration. It is a
matter of common observation that sanguinary epithets applied to
the divinity have a high aesthetic and honorific value in the
popular apprehension. That is to say, suggestions which these
epithets carry are very acceptable to our unreflecting
apprehension.

  Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord:
  He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
  He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword;
  His truth is marching on.

The guiding habits of thought of a devout person move on the
plane of an archaic scheme of life which has outlived much of its
usefulness for the economic exigencies of the collective life of
today. In so far as the economic organization fits the exigencies
of the collective life of today, it has outlived the regime of
status, and has no use and no place for a relation of personal
subserviency. So far as concerns the economic efficiency of the
community, the sentiment of personal fealty, and the general
habit of mind of which that sentiment is an expression, are
survivals which cumber the ground and hinder an adequate
adjustment of human institutions to the existing situation. The
habit of mind which best lends itself to the purposes of a
peaceable, industrial community, is that matter-of-fact temper
which recognizes the value of material facts simply as opaque
items in the mechanical sequence. It is that frame of mind which
does not instinctively impute an animistic propensity to things,
nor resort to preternatural intervention as an explanation of
perplexing phenomena, nor depend on an unseen hand to shape the
course of events to human use. To meet the requirements of the
highest economic efficiency under modern conditions, the world
process must habitually be apprehended in terms of quantitative,
dispassionate force and sequence.

As seen from the point of view of the later economic
exigencies, devoutness is, perhaps in all cases, to be looked
upon as a survival from an earlier phase of associated life -- a
mark of arrested spiritual development. Of course it remains true
that in a community where the economic structure is still
substantially a system of status; where the attitude of the
average of persons in the community is consequently shaped by and
adapted to the relation of personal dominance and personal
subservience; or where for any other reason -- of tradition or of
inherited aptitude -- the population as a whole is strongly
inclined to devout observances; there a devout habit of mind in
any individual, not in excess of the average of the community,
must be taken simply as a detail of the prevalent habit of life.
In this light, a devout individual in a devout community can not
be called a case of reversion, since he is abreast of the average
of the community. But as seen from the point of view of the
modern industrial situation, exceptional devoutness -- devotional
zeal that rises appreciably above the average pitch of devoutness
in the community -- may safely be set down as in all cases an
atavistic trait.

It is, of course, equally legitimate to consider these phenomena
from a different point of view. They may be appreciated for a
different purpose, and the characterization here offered may be
turned about. In speaking from the point of view of the
devotional interest, or the interest of devout taste, it may,
with equal cogency, be said that the spiritual attitude bred in
men by the modern industrial life is unfavorable to a free
development of the life of faith. It might fairly be objected to
the later development of the industrial process that its
discipline tends to "materialism," to the elimination of filial
piety. From the aesthetic point of view, again, something to a
similar purport might be said. But, however legitimate and
valuable these and the like reflections may be for their purpose,
they would not be in place in the present inquiry, which is
exclusively concerned with the valuation of these phenomena from
the economic point of view.

The grave economic significance of the anthropomorphic habit of
mind and of the addiction to devout observances must serve as
apology for speaking further on a topic which it can not but be
distasteful to discuss at all as an economic phenomenon in a
community so devout as ours. Devout observances are of economic
importance as an index of a concomitant variation of temperament,
accompanying the predatory habit of mind and so indicating the
presence of industrially disserviceable traits. They indicate the
presence of a mental attitude which has a certain economic value
of its own by virtue of its influence upon the industrial
serviceability of the individual. But they are also of importance
more directly, in modifying the economic activities of the
community, especially as regards the distribution and consumption
of goods.

The most obvious economic bearing of these observances is seen in
the devout consumption of goods and services. The
consumption of ceremonial paraphernalia required by any cult, in
the way of shrines, temples, churches, vestments, sacrifices,
sacraments, holiday attire, etc., serves no immediate material
end. All this material apparatus may, therefore, without implying
deprecation, be broadly characterized as items of conspicuous
waste. The like is true in a general way of the personal service
consumed under this head; such as priestly education, priestly
service, pilgrimages, fasts, holidays, household devotions, and
the like. At the same time the observances in the execution of
which this consumption takes place serve to extend and protract
the vogue of those habits of thought on which an anthropomorphic
cult rests. That is to say, they further the habits of thought
characteristic of the regime of status. They are in so far an
obstruction to the most effective organization of industry under
modern circumstances; and are, in the first instance,
antagonistic to the development of economic institutions in the
direction required by the situation of today. For the present
purpose, the indirect as well as the direct effects of this
consumption are of the nature of a curtailment of the community's
economic efficiency. In economic theory, then, and considered in
its proximate consequences, the consumption of goods and effort
in the service of an anthropomorphic divinity means a lowering of
the vitality of the community. What may be the remoter, indirect,
moral effects of this class of consumption does not admit of a
succinct answer, and it is a question which can not be taken up
here.

It will be to the point, however, to note the general economic
character of devout consumption, in comparison with consumption
for other purposes. An indication of the range of motives and
purposes from which devout consumption of goods proceeds will
help toward an appreciation of the value both of this consumption
itself and of the general habit of mind to which it is congenial.
There is a striking parallelism, if not rather a substantial
identity of motive, between the consumption which goes to the
service of an anthropomorphic divinity and that which goes to the
service of a gentleman of leisure chieftain or patriarch -- in
the upper class of society during the barbarian culture. Both in
the case of the chieftain and in that of the divinity there are
expensive edifices set apart for the behoof of the person served.
These edifices, as well as the properties which supplement them
in the service, must not be common in kind or grade; they always
show a large element of conspicuous waste. It may also be noted
that the devout edifices are invariably of an archaic cast in
their structure and fittings. So also the servants, both of the
chieftain and of the divinity, must appear in the presence
clothed in garments of a special, ornate character. The
characteristic economic feature of this apparel is a more than
ordinarily accentuated conspicuous waste, together with the
secondary feature -- more accentuated in the case of the priestly
servants than in that of the servants or courtiers of the
barbarian potentate -- that this court dress must always be in
some degree of an archaic fashion. Also the garments worn by the
lay members of the community when they come into the presence,
should be of a more expensive kind than their everyday apparel.
Here, again, the parallelism between the usage of the chieftain's
audience hall and that of the sanctuary is fairly well marked. In
this respect there is required a certain ceremonial "cleanness"
of attire, the essential feature of which, in the economic
respect, is that the garments worn on these occasions should
carry as little suggestion as may be of any industrial occupation
or of any habitual addiction to such employments as are of
material use.

This requirement of conspicuous waste and of ceremonial cleanness
from the traces of industry extends also to the apparel, and in a
less degree to the food, which is consumed on sacred holidays;
that is to say, on days set apart -- tabu -- for the divinity or
for some member of the lower ranks of the preternatural leisure
class. In economic theory, sacred holidays are obviously to be
construed as a season of vicarious leisure performed for the
divinity or saint in whose name the tabu is imposed and to whose
good repute the abstention from useful effort on these days is
conceived to inure. The characteristic feature of all such
seasons of devout vicarious leisure is a more or less rigid tabu
on all activity that is of human use. In the case of fast-days
the conspicuous abstention from gainful occupations and from all
pursuits that (materially) further human life is further
accentuated by compulsory abstinence from such consumption as
would conduce to the comfort or the fullness of life of the
consumer.

It may be remarked, parenthetically, that secular holidays are of
the same origin, by slightly remoter derivation. They shade off
by degrees from the genuinely sacred days, through an
intermediate class of semi-sacred birthdays of kings and great
men who have been in some measure canonized, to the deliberately
invented holiday set apart to further the good repute of some
notable event or some striking fact, to which it is intended to
do honor, or the good fame of which is felt to be in need of
repair. The remoter refinement in the employment of vicarious
leisure as a means of augmenting the good repute of a phenomenon
or datum is seen at its best in its very latest application. A
day of vicarious leisure has in some communities been set apart
as Labor Day. This observance is designed to augment the prestige
of the fact of labor, by the archaic, predatory method of a
compulsory abstention from useful effort. To this datum of
labor-in-general is imputed the good repute attributable to the
pecuniary strength put in evidence by abstaining from labor.
Sacred holidays, and holidays generally, are of the nature of a
tribute levied on the body of the people. The tribute is paid in
vicarious leisure, and the honorific effect which emerges is
imputed to the person or the fact for whose good repute the
holiday has been instituted. Such a tithe of vicarious leisure is
a perquisite of all members of the preternatural leisure class
and is indispensable to their good fame. Un saint qu'on ne chôme
pas is indeed a saint fallen on evil days.

Besides this tithe of vicarious leisure levied on the laity,
there are also special classes of persons -- the various grades
of priests and hierodules -- whose time is wholly set apart for a
similar service. It is not only incumbent on the priestly class
to abstain from vulgar labor, especially so far as it is
lucrative or is apprehended to contribute to the temporal
well-being of mankind. The tabu in the case of the priestly class
goes farther and adds a refinement in the form of an injunction
against their seeking worldly gain even where it may be had
without debasing application to industry. It is felt to be
unworthy of the servant of the divinity, or rather unworthy the
dignity of the divinity whose servant he is, that he should seek
material gain or take thought for temporal matters. "Of all
contemptible things a man who pretends to be a priest of God and
is a priest to his own comforts and ambitions is the most
contemptible." There is a line of discrimination, which a
cultivated taste in matters of devout observance finds little
difficulty in drawing, between such actions and conduct as
conduce to the fullness of human life and such as conduce to the
good fame of the anthropomorphic divinity; and the activity of
the priestly class, in the ideal barbarian scheme, falls wholly
on the hither side of this line. What falls within the range of
economics falls below the proper level of solicitude of the
priesthood in its best estate. Such apparent exceptions to this
rule as are afforded, for instance, by some of the medieval
orders of monks (the members of which actually labored to some
useful end), scarcely impugn the rule. These outlying orders of
the priestly class are not a sacerdotal element in the full sense
of the term. And it is noticeable also that these doubtfully
sacerdotal orders, which countenanced their members in earning a
living, fell into disrepute through offending the sense of
propriety in the communities where they existed.

The priest should not put his hand to mechanically
productive work; but he should consume in large measure. But even
as regards his consumption it is to be noted that it should take
such forms as do not obviously conduce to his own comfort or
fullness of life; it should conform to the rules governing
vicarious consumption, as explained under that head in an earlier
chapter. It is not ordinarily in good form for the priestly class
to appear well fed or in hilarious spirits. Indeed, in many of
the more elaborate cults the injunction against other than
vicarious consumption by this class frequently goes so far as to
enjoin mortification of the flesh. And even in those modern
denominations which have been organized under the latest
formulations of the creed, in a modern industrial community, it
is felt that all levity and avowed zest in the enjoyment of the
good things of this world is alien to the true clerical decorum.
Whatever suggests that these servants of an invisible master are
living a life, not of devotion to their master's good fame, but
of application to their own ends, jars harshly on our
sensibilities as something fundamentally and eternally wrong.
They are a servant class, although, being servants of a very
exalted master, they rank high in the social scale by virtue of
this borrowed light. Their consumption is vicarious consumption;
and since, in the advanced cults, their master has no need of
material gain, their occupation is vicarious leisure in the full
sense. "Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do,
do all to the glory of God." It may be added that so far as the
laity is assimilated to the priesthood in the respect that they
are conceived to be servants of the divinity. So far this imputed
vicarious character attaches also to the layman's life. The range
of application of this corollary is somewhat wide. It applies
especially to such movements for the reform or rehabilitation of
the religious life as are of an austere, pietistic, ascetic cast
-- where the human subject is conceived to hold his life by a
direct servile tenure from his spiritual sovereign. That is to
say, where the institution of the priesthood lapses, or where
there is an exceptionally lively sense of the immediate and
masterful presence of the divinity in the affairs of life, there
the layman is conceived to stand in an immediate servile relation
to the divinity, and his life is construed to be a performance of
vicarious leisure directed to the enhancement of his master's
repute. In such cases of reversion there is a return to the
unmediated relation of subservience, as the dominant fact of the
devout attitude. The emphasis is thereby throw on an austere and
discomforting vicarious leisure, to the neglect of conspicuous
consumption as a means of grace.

A doubt will present itself as to the full legitimacy of this
characterization of the sacerdotal scheme of life, on the ground
that a considerable proportion of the modern priesthood departs
from the scheme in many details. The scheme does not hold good
for the clergy of those denominations which have in some measure
diverged from the old established schedule of beliefs or
observances. These take thought, at least ostensibly or
permissively, for the temporal welfare of the laity, as well as
for their own. Their manner of life, not only in the privacy of
their own household, but often even before the public, does not
differ in an extreme degree from that of secular-minded persons,
either in its ostensible austerity or in the archaism of its
apparatus. This is truest for those denominations that have
wandered the farthest. To this objection it is to be said that we
have here to do not with a discrepancy in the theory of
sacerdotal life, but with an imperfect conformity to the scheme
on the part of this body of clergy. They are but a partial and
imperfect representative of the priesthood, and must not be taken
as exhibiting the sacerdotal scheme of life in an authentic and
competent manner. The clergy of the sects and denominations might
be characterized as a half-caste priesthood, or a priesthood in
process of becoming or of reconstitution. Such a priesthood may
be expected to show the characteristics of the sacerdotal office
only as blended and obscured with alien motives and traditions,
due to the disturbing presence of other factors than those of
animism and status in the purposes of the organizations to which
this non-conforming fraction of the priesthood belongs.

Appeal may be taken direct to the taste of any person with a
discriminating and cultivated sense of the sacerdotal
proprieties, or to the prevalent sense of what constitutes
clerical decorum in any community at all accustomed to think or
to pass criticism on what a clergyman may or may not do without
blame. Even in the most extremely secularized denominations,
there is some sense of a distinction that should be observed
between the sacerdotal and the lay scheme of life. There is no
person of sensibility but feels that where the members of this
denominational or sectarian clergy depart from traditional usage,
in the direction of a less austere or less archaic demeanor and
apparel, they are departing from the ideal of priestly decorum.
There is probably no community and no sect within the range of
the Western culture in which the bounds of permissible indulgence
are not drawn appreciably closer for the incumbent of the
priestly office than for the common layman. If the priest's own
sense of sacerdotal propriety does not effectually impose a
limit, the prevalent sense of the proprieties on the part of the
community will commonly assert itself so obtrusively as to lead
to his conformity or his retirement from office.

Few if any members of any body of clergy, it may be added, would
avowedly seek an increase of salary for gain's sake; and if such
avowal were openly made by a clergyman, it would be found
obnoxious to the sense of propriety among his congregation. It
may also be noted in this connection that no one but the scoffers
and the very obtuse are not instinctively grieved inwardly at a
jest from the pulpit; and that there are none whose respect for
their pastor does not suffer through any mark of levity on his
part in any conjuncture of life, except it be levity of a
palpably histrionic kind -- a constrained unbending of dignity.
The diction proper to the sanctuary and to the priestly office
should also carry little if any suggestion of effective everyday
life, and should not draw upon the vocabulary of modern trade or
industry. Likewise, one's sense of the proprieties is readily
offended by too detailed and intimate a handling of industrial
and other purely human questions at the hands of the clergy.
There is a certain level of generality below which a cultivated
sense of the proprieties in homiletical discourse will not permit
a well-bred clergyman to decline in his discussion of temporal
interests. These matters that are of human and secular
consequence simply, should properly be handled with such a degree
of generality and aloofness as may imply that the speaker
represents a master whose interest in secular affairs goes only
so far as to permissively countenance them.

It is further to be noticed that the non-conforming sects and
variants whose priesthood is here under discussion, vary among
themselves in the degree of their conformity to the ideal scheme
of sacerdotal life. In a general way it will be found that the
divergence in this respect is widest in the case of the
relatively young denominations, and especially in the case of
such of the newer denominations as have chiefly a lower
middle-class constituency. They commonly show a large admixture
of humanitarian, philanthropic, or other motives which can not be
classed as expressions of the devotional attitude; such as the
desire of learning or of conviviality, which enter largely into
the effective interest shown by members of these organizations.
The non-conforming or sectarian movements have commonly proceeded
from a mixture of motives, some of which are at variance with
that sense of status on which the priestly office rests.
Sometimes, indeed, the motive has been in good part a revulsion
against a system of status. Where this is the case the
institution of the priesthood has broken down in the transition,
at least partially. The spokesman of such an organization is at
the outset a servant and representative of the organization,
rather than a member of a special priestly class and the
spokesman of a divine master. And it is only by a process of
gradual specialization that, in succeeding generations, this
spokesman regains the position of priest, with a full investiture
of sacerdotal authority, and with its accompanying austere,
archaic and vicarious manner of life. The like is true of the
breakdown and redintegration of devout ritual after such a
revulsion. The priestly office, the scheme of sacerdotal life,
and the schedule of devout observances are rehabilitated only
gradually, insensibly, and with more or less variation in
details, as a persistent human sense of devout propriety
reasserts its primacy in questions touching the interest in the
preternatural -- and it may be added, as the organization
increases in wealth, and so acquires more of the point of view
and the habits of thought of a leisure class.

Beyond the priestly class, and ranged in an ascending
hierarchy,ordinarily comes a superhuman vicarious leisure class
of saints, angels, etc. -- or their equivalents in the ethnic
cults. These rise in grade, one above another, according to
elaborate system of status. The principle of status runs through
the entire hierarchical system, both visible and invisible. The
good fame of these several orders of the supernatural hierarchy
also commonly requires a certain tribute of vicarious consumption
and vicarious leisure. In many cases they accordingly have
devoted to their service sub-orders of attendants or dependents
who perform a vicarious leisure for them, after much the same
fashion as was found in an earlier chapter to be true of the
dependent leisure class under the patriarchal system.

It may not appear without reflection how these devout observances
and the peculiarity of temperament which they imply, or the
consumption of goods and services which is comprised in the cult,
stand related to the leisure class of a modern community, or to
the economic motives of which that class is the exponent in the
modern scheme of life to this end a summary review of certain
facts bearing on this relation will be useful. It appears from an
earlier passage in this discussion that for the purpose of the
collective life of today, especially so far as concerns the
industrial efficiency of the modern community, the characteristic
traits of the devout temperament are a hindrance rather than a
help. It should accordingly be found that the modern industrial
life tends selectively to eliminate these traits of human nature
from the spiritual constitution of the classes that are
immediately engaged in the industrial process. It should hold
true, approximately, that devoutness is declining or tending to
obsolescence among the members of what may be called the
effective industrial community. At the same time it should appear
that this aptitude or habit survives in appreciably greater vigor
among those classes which do not immediately or primarily enter
into the community's life process as an industrial factor.

It has already been pointed out that these latter classes, which
live by, rather than in, the industrial process, are roughly
comprised under two categories (1) the leisure class proper,
which is shielded from the stress of the economic situation; and
(2) the indigent classes, including the lower-class delinquents,
which are unduly exposed to the stress. In the case of the former
class an archaic habit of mind persists because no effectual
economic pressure constrains this class to an adaptation of its
habits of thought to the changing situation; while in the latter
the reason for a failure to adjust their habits of thought to the
altered requirements of industrial efficiency is innutrition,
absence of such surplus of energy as is needed in order to make
the adjustment with facility, together with a lack of opportunity
to acquire and become habituated to the modern point of view. The
trend of the selective process runs in much the same direction in
both cases.

From the point of view which the modern industrial life
inculcates, phenomena are habitually subsumed under the
quantitative relation of mechanical sequence. The indigent
classes not only fall short of the modicum of leisure necessary
in order to appropriate and assimilate the more recent
generalizations of science which this point of view involves, but
they also ordinarily stand in such a relation of personal
dependence or subservience to their pecuniary superiors as
materially to retard their emancipation from habits of thought
proper to the regime of status. The result is that these classes
in some measure retain that general habit of mind the chief
expression of which is a strong sense of personal status, and of
which devoutness is one feature.

In the older communities of the European culture, the hereditary
leisure class, together with the mass of the indigent population,
are given to devout observances in an appreciably higher degree
than the average of the industrious middle class, wherever a
considerable class of the latter character exists. But in some of
these countries, the two categories of conservative humanity
named above comprise virtually the whole population. Where these
two classes greatly preponderate, their bent shapes popular
sentiment to such an extent as to bear down any possible
divergent tendency in the inconsiderable middle class, and
imposes a devout attitude upon the whole community.

This must, of course, not be construed to say that such
communities or such classes as are exceptionally prone to devout
observances tend to conform in any exceptional degree to the
specifications of any code of morals that we may be accustomed to
associate with this or that confession of faith. A large measure
of the devout habit of mind need not carry with it a strict
observance of the injunctions of the Decalogue or of the common
law. Indeed, it is becoming somewhat of a commonplace with
observers of criminal life in European communities that the
criminal and dissolute classes are, if anything, rather more
devout, and more naively so, than the average of the population.
It is among those who constitute the pecuniary middle class and
the body of law-abiding citizens that a relative exemption from
the devotional attitude is to be looked for. Those who best
appreciate the merits of the higher creeds and observances would
object to all this and say that the devoutness of the low-class
delinquents is a spurious, or at the best a superstitious
devoutness; and the point is no doubt well taken and goes
directly and cogently to the purpose intended. But for the
purpose of the present inquiry these extra-economic,
extra-psychological distinctions must perforce be neglected,
however valid and however decisive they may be for the purpose
for which they are made.

What has actually taken place with regard to class
emancipation from the habit of devout observance is shown by the
latter-day complaint of the clergy -- that the churches are
losing the sympathy of the artisan classes, and are losing their
hold upon them. At the same time it is currently believed that
the middle class, commonly so called, is also falling away in the
cordiality of its support of the church, especially so far as
regards the adult male portion of that class. These are currently
recognized phenomena, and it might seem that a simple reference
to these facts should sufficiently substantiate the general
position outlined. Such an appeal to the general phenomena of
popular church attendance and church membership may be
sufficiently convincing for the proposition here advanced. But it
will still be to the purpose to trace in some detail the course
of events and the particular forces which have wrought this
change in the spiritual attitude of the more advanced industrial
communities of today. It will serve to illustrate the manner in
which economic causes work towards a secularization of men's
habits of thought. In this respect the American community should
afford an exceptionally convincing illustration, since this
community has been the least trammelled by external circumstances
of any equally important industrial aggregate.

After making due allowance for exceptions and sporadic departures
from the normal, the situation here at the present time may be
summarized quite briefly. As a general rule the classes that are
low in economic efficiency, or in intelligence, or both, are
peculiarly devout -- as, for instance, the Negro population of
the South, much of the lower-class foreign
population, much of the rural population, especially in those
sections which are backward in education, in the stage of
development of their industry, or in respect of their industrial
contact with the rest of the community. So also such fragments as
we possess of a specialized or hereditary indigent class, or of a
segregated criminal or dissolute class; although among these
latter the devout habit of mind is apt to take the form of a
naive animistic belief in luck and in the efficacy of shamanistic
practices perhaps more frequently than it takes the form of a
formal adherence to any accredited creed. The artisan class, on
the other hand, is notoriously falling away from the accredited
anthropomorphic creeds and from all devout observances. This
class is in an especial degree exposed to the characteristic
intellectual and spiritual stress of modern organized industry,
which requires a constant recognition of the undisguised
phenomena of impersonal, matter-of-fact sequence and an
unreserved conformity to the law of cause and effect. This class
is at the same time not underfed nor over-worked to such an
extent as to leave no margin of energy for the work of
adaptation.

The case of the lower or doubtful leisure class in America -- the
middle class commonly so called -- is somewhat peculiar. It
differs in respect of its devotional life from its European
counterpart, but it differs in degree and method rather than in
substance. The churches still have the pecuniary support of this
class; although the creeds to which the class adheres with the
greatest facility are relatively poor in anthropomorphic content.
At the same time the effective middle-class congregation tends,
in many cases, more or less remotely perhaps, to become a
congregation of women and minors. There is an appreciable lack of
devotional fervor among the adult males of the middle class,
although to a considerable extent there survives among them a
certain complacent, reputable assent to the outlines of the
accredited creed under which they were born. Their everyday life
is carried on in a more or less close contact with the industrial
process.

This peculiar sexual differentiation, which tends to
delegate devout observances to the women and their children, is
due, at least in part, to the fact that the middle-class women
are in great measure a (vicarious) leisure class. The same is
true in a less degree of the women of the lower, artisan classes.
They live under a regime of status handed down from an earlier
stage of industrial development, and thereby they preserve a
frame of mind and habits of thought which incline them to an
archaic view of things generally. At the same time they stand in
no such direct organic relation to the industrial process at
large as would tend strongly to break down those habits of
thought which, for the modern industrial purpose, are obsolete.
That is to say, the peculiar devoutness of women is a particular
expression of that conservatism which the women of civilized
communities owe, in great measure, to their economic position.
For the modern man the patriarchal relation of status is by no
means the dominant feature of life; but for the women on the
other hand, and for the upper middle-class women especially,
confined as they are by prescription and by economic
circumstances to their "domestic sphere," this relation is the
most real and most formative factor of life. Hence a habit of
mind favorable to devout observances and to the interpretation of
the facts of life generally in terms of personal status. The
logic, and the logical processes, of her everyday domestic life
are carried over into the realm of the supernatural, and the
woman finds herself at home and content in a range of ideas which
to the man are in great measure alien and imbecile.

Still the men of this class are also not devoid of piety,
although it is commonly not piety of an aggressive or exuberant
kind. The men of the upper middle class commonly take a more
complacent attitude towards devout observances than the men of
the artisan class. This may perhaps be explained in part by
saying that what is true of the women of the class is true to a
less extent also of the men. They are to an appreciable extent a
sheltered class; and the patriarchal relation of status which
still persists in their conjugal life and in their habitual use
of servants, may also act to conserve an archaic habit of mind
and may exercise a retarding influence upon the process of
secularization which their habits of thought are undergoing. The
relations of the American middle-class man to the economic
community, however, are usually pretty close and exacting;
although it may be remarked, by the way and in qualification,
that their economic activity frequently also partakes in some
degree of the patriarchal or quasi-predatory character. The
occupations which are in good repute among this class and which
have most to do with shaping the class habits of thought, are the
pecuniary occupations which have been spoken of in a similar
connection in an earlier chapter. There is a good deal of the
relation of arbitrary command and submission, and not a little of
shrewd practice, remotely akin to predatory fraud. All this
belongs on the plane of life of the predatory barbarian, to whom
a devotional attitude is habitual. And in addition to this, the
devout observances also commend themselves to this class on the
ground of reputability. But this latter incentive to piety
deserves treatment by itself and will be spoken of presently.
There is no hereditary leisure class of any consequence in the
American community, except in the South. This Southern leisure
class is somewhat given to devout observances; more so than any
class of corresponding pecuniary standing in other parts of the
country. It is also well known that the creeds of the South are
of a more old-fashioned cast than their counterparts in the
North. Corresponding to this more archaic devotional life of the
South is the lower industrial development of that section. The
industrial organization of the South is at present, and
especially it has been until quite recently, of a more primitive
character than that of the American community taken as a whole.
It approaches nearer to handicraft, in the paucity and rudeness
of its mechanical appliances, and there is more of the element of
mastery and subservience. It may also be noted that, owing to the
peculiar economic circumstances of this section, the greater
devoutness of the Southern population, both white and black, is
correlated with a scheme of life which in many ways recalls the
barbarian stages of industrial development. Among this population
offenses of an archaic character also are and have been
relatively more prevalent and are less deprecated than they are
elsewhere; as, for example, duels, brawls, feuds, drunkenness,
horse-racing, cock-fighting, gambling, male sexual incontinence
(evidenced by the considerable number of mulattoes). There is
also a livelier sense of honor -- an expression of sportsmanship
and a derivative of predatory life.

As regards the wealthier class of the North, the American leisure
class in the best sense of the term, it is, to begin with,
scarcely possible to speak of an hereditary devotional attitude.
This class is of too recent growth to be possessed of a
well-formed transmitted habit in this respect, or even of a
special home-grown tradition. Still, it may be noted in passing
that there is a perceptible tendency among this class to give in
at least a nominal, and apparently something of a real, adherence
to some one of the accredited creeds. Also, weddings, funerals,
and the like honorific events among this class are pretty
uniformly solemnized with some especial degree of religious
circumstance. It is impossible to say how far this adherence to a
creed is a bona fide reversion to a devout habit of mind, and how
far it is to be classed as a case of protective mimicry assumed
for the purpose of an outward assimilation to canons of
reputability borrowed from foreign ideals. Something of a
substantial devotional propensity seems to be present, to judge
especially by the somewhat peculiar degree of ritualistic
observance which is in process of development in the upper-class
cults. There is a tendency perceptible among the upper-class
worshippers to affiliate themselves with those cults which lay
relatively great stress on ceremonial and on the spectacular
accessories of worship; and in the churches in which an
upper-class membership predominates, there is at the same time a
tendency to accentuate the ritualistic, at the cost of the
intellectual features in the service and in the apparatus of the
devout observances. This holds true even where the church in
question belongs to a denomination with a relatively slight
general development of ritual and paraphernalia. This peculiar
development of the ritualistic element is no doubt due in part to
a predilection for conspicuously wasteful spectacles, but it
probably also in part indicates something of the devotional
attitude of the worshippers. So far as the latter is true, it
indicates a relatively archaic form of the devotional habit. The
predominance of spectacular effects in devout observances is
noticeable in all devout communities at a relatively primitive
stage of culture and with a slight intellectual development. It
is especially characteristic of the barbarian culture. Here there
is pretty uniformly present in the devout observances a direct
appeal to the emotions through all the avenues of sense. And a
tendency to return to this naive, sensational method of appeal is
unmistakable in the upper-class churches of today. It is
perceptible in a less degree in the cults which claim the
allegiance of the lower leisure class and of the middle classes.
There is a reversion to the use of colored lights and brilliant
spectacles, a freer use of symbols, orchestral music and incense,
and one may even detect in "processionals" and "recessionals" and
in richly varied genuflexional evolutions, an incipient reversion
to so antique an accessory of worship as the sacred dance.
This reversion to spectacular observances is not confined to the
upper-class cults, although it finds its best exemplification and
its highest accentuation in the higher pecuniary and social
altitudes. The cults of the lower-class devout portion of the
community, such as the Southern Negroes and the backward foreign
elements of the population, of course also show a strong
inclination to ritual, symbolism, and spectacular effects; as
might be expected from the antecedents and the cultural level of
those classes. With these classes the prevalence of ritual and
anthropomorphism are not so much a matter of reversion as of
continued development out of the past. But the use of ritual and
related features of devotion are also spreading in other
directions. In the early days of the American community the
prevailing denominations started out with a ritual and
paraphernalia of an austere simplicity; but it is a matter
familiar to every one that in the course of time these
denominations have, in a varying degree, adopted much of the
spectacular elements which they once renounced. In a general way,
this development has gone hand in hand with the growth of the
wealth and the ease of life of the worshippers and has reached
its fullest expression among those classes which grade highest in
wealth and repute.

The causes to which this pecuniary stratification of
devoutness is due have already been indicated in a general way in
speaking of class differences in habits of thought. Class
differences as regards devoutness are but a special expression of
a generic fact. The lax allegiance of the lower middle class, or
what may broadly be called the failure of filial piety among this
class, is chiefly perceptible among the town populations engaged
in the mechanical industries. In a general way, one does not, at
the present time, look for a blameless filial piety among those
classes whose employment approaches that of the engineer and the
mechanician. These mechanical employments are in a degree a
modern fact. The handicraftsmen of earlier times, who served an
industrial end of a character similar to that now served by the
mechanician, were not similarly refractory under the discipline
of devoutness. The habitual activity of the men engaged in these
branches of industry has greatly changed, as regards its
intellectual discipline, since the modern industrial processes
have come into vogue; and the discipline to which the mechanician
is exposed in his daily employment affects the methods and
standards of his thinking also on topics which lie outside his
everyday work. Familiarity with the highly organized and highly
impersonal industrial processes of the present acts to derange
the animistic habits of thought. The workman's office is becoming
more and more exclusively that of discretion and supervision in a
process of mechanical, dispassionate sequences. So long as the
individual is the chief and typical prime mover in the process;
so long as the obtrusive feature of the industrial process is the
dexterity and force of the individual handicraftsman; so long the
habit of interpreting phenomena in terms of personal motive and
propensity suffers no such considerable and consistent
derangement through facts as to lead to its elimination. But
under the later developed industrial processes, when the prime
movers and the contrivances through which they work are of an
impersonal, non-individual character, the grounds of
generalization habitually present in the workman's mind and the
point of view from which he habitually apprehends phenomena is an
enforced cognizance of matter-of-fact sequence. The result, so
far as concerts the workman's life of faith, is a proclivity to
undevout scepticism.

It appears, then, that the devout habit of mind attains its best
development under a relatively archaic culture; the term "devout"
being of course here used in its anthropological sense simply,
and not as implying anything with respect to the
spiritual attitude so characterized, beyond the fact of a
proneness to devout observances. It appears also that this devout
attitude marks a type of human nature which is more in consonance
with the predatory mode of life than with the later-developed,
more consistently and organically industrial life process of the
community. It is in large measure an expression of the archaic
habitual sense of personal status -- the relation of mastery and
subservience -- and it therefore fits into the industrial scheme
of the predatory and the quasi-peaceable culture, but does not
fit into the industrial scheme of the present. It also appears
that this habit persists with greatest tenacity among those
classes in the modern communities whose everyday life is most
remote from the mechanical processes of industry and which are
the most conservative also in other respects; while for those
classes that are habitually in immediate contact with modern
industrial processes, and whose habits of thought are therefore
exposed to the constraining force of technological necessities,
that animistic interpretation of phenomena and that respect of
persons on which devout observance proceeds are in process of
obsolescence. And also -- as bearing especially on the present
discussion -- it appears that the devout habit to some extent
progressively gains in scope and elaboration among those classes
in the modern communities to whom wealth and leisure accrue in
the most pronounced degree. In this as in other relations, the
institution of a leisure class acts to conserve, and even to
rehabilitate, that archaic type of human nature and those
elements of the archaic culture which the industrial evolution of
society in its later stages acts to eliminate.




Chapter Thirteen

Survivals of the Non-Invidious Interests

In an increasing proportion as time goes on, the
anthropomorphic cult, with its code of devout observations,
suffers a progressive disintegration through the stress of
economic exigencies and the decay of the system of status. As
this disintegration proceeds, there come to be associated and
blended with the devout attitude certain other motives and
impulses that are not always of an anthropomorphic origin, nor
traceable to the habit of personal subservience. Not all of these
subsidiary impulses that blend with the habit of devoutness in
the later devotional life are altogether congruous with the
devout attitude or with the anthropomorphic apprehension of the
sequence of phenomena. The origin being not the same, their
action upon the scheme of devout life is also not in the same
direction. In many ways they traverse the underlying norm of
subservience or vicarious life to which the code of devout
observations and the ecclesiastical and sacerdotal institutions
are to be traced as their substantial basis. Through the presence
of these alien motives the social and industrial regime of status
gradually disintegrates, and the canon of personal subservience
loses the support derived from an unbroken tradition. Extraneous
habits and proclivities encroach upon the field of action
occupied by this canon, and it presently comes about that the
ecclesiastical and sacerdotal structures are partially converted
to other uses, in some measure alien to the purposes of the
scheme of devout life as it stood in the days of the most
vigorous and characteristic development of the priesthood.

Among these alien motives which affect the devout scheme in its
later growth, may be mentioned the motives of charity and of
social good-fellowship, or conviviality; or, in more general
terms, the various expressions of the sense of human solidarity
and sympathy. It may be added that these extraneous uses of the
ecclesiastical structure contribute materially to its survival in
name and form even among people who may be ready to give up the
substance of it. A still more characteristic and more pervasive
alien element in the motives which have gone to formally uphold
the scheme of devout life is that non-reverent sense of aesthetic
congruity with the environment, which is left as a residue of the
latter-day act of worship after elimination of its
anthropomorphic content. This has done good service for the
maintenance of the sacerdotal institution through blending with
the motive of subservience. This sense of impulse of aesthetic
congruity is not primarily of an economic character, but it has a
considerable indirect effect in shaping the habit of mind of the
individual for economic purposes in the later stages of
industrial development; its most perceptible effect in this
regard goes in the direction of mitigating the somewhat
pronounced self-regarding bias that has been transmitted by
tradition from the earlier, more competent phases of the regime
of status. The economic bearing of this impulse is therefore seen
to transverse that of the devout attitude; the former goes to
qualify, if not eliminate, the self-regarding bias, through
sublation of the antithesis or antagonism of self and not-self;
while the latter, being and expression of the sense of personal
subservience and mastery, goes to accentuate this antithesis and
to insist upon the divergence between the self-regarding interest
and the interests of the generically human life process.

This non-invidious residue of the religious life -- the sense of
communion with the environment, or with the generic life process
-- as well as the impulse of charity or of sociability, act in a
pervasive way to shape men's habits of thought for the economic
purpose. But the action of all this class of proclivities is
somewhat vague, and their effects are difficult to trace in
detail. So much seems clear, however, as that the action of this
entire class of motives or aptitudes tends in a direction
contrary to the underlying principles of the institution of the
leisure class as already formulated. The basis of that
institution, as well as of the anthropomorphic cults associated
with it in the cultural development, is the habit of invidious
comparison; and this habit is incongruous with the exercise of
the aptitudes now in question. The substantial canons of the
leisure-class scheme of life are a conspicuous waste of time and
substance and a withdrawal from the industrial process; while the
particular aptitudes here in question assert themselves, on the
economic side, in a deprecation of waste and of a futile manner
of life, and in an impulse to participation in or identification
with the life process, whether it be on the economic side or in
any other of its phases or aspects.

It is plain that these aptitudes and habits of life to which they
give rise where circumstances favor their expression, or where
they assert themselves in a dominant way, run counter to the
leisure-class scheme of life; but it is not clear that life under
the leisure-class scheme, as seen in the later stages of its
development, tends consistently to the repression of these
aptitudes or to exemption from the habits of thought in which
they express themselves. The positive discipline of the
leisure-class scheme of life goes pretty much all the other way.
In its positive discipline, by prescription and by selective
elimination, the leisure-class scheme favors the all-pervading
and all-dominating primacy of the canons of waste and invidious
comparison at every conjuncture of life. But in its negative
effects the tendency of the leisure-class discipline is not so
unequivocally true to the fundamental canons of the scheme. In
its regulation of human activity for the purpose of pecuniary
decency the leisure-class canon insists on withdrawal from the
industrial process. That is to say, it inhibits activity in the
directions in which the impecunious members of the community
habitually put forth their efforts. Especially in the case of
women, and more particularly as regards the upper-class and
upper-middle-class women of advanced industrial communities, this
inhibition goes so far as to insist on withdrawal even from the
emulative process of accumulation by the quasi-predator methods
of the pecuniary occupations.

The pecuniary or the leisure-class culture, which set out as an
emulative variant of the impulse of workmanship, is in its latest
development beginning to neutralize its own ground, by
eliminating the habit of invidious comparison in respect of
efficiency, or even of pecuniary standing. On the other hand, the
fact that members of the leisure class, both men and women, are
to some extent exempt from the necessity of finding a livelihood
in a competitive struggle with their fellows, makes it possible
for members of this class not only to survive, but even, within
bounds, to follow their bent in case they are not gifted with the
aptitudes which make for success in the competitive struggle.
That is to say, in the latest and fullest development of the
institution, the livelihood of members of this class does not
depend on the possession and the unremitting exercise of those
aptitudes are therefore greater in the higher grades of the
leisure class than in the general average of a population living
under the competitive system.

In an earlier chapter, in discussing the conditions of survival
of archaic traits, it has appeared that the peculiar position of
the leisure class affords exceptionally favorable chances for the
survival of traits which characterize the type of human nature
proper to an earlier and obsolete cultural stage. The class is
sheltered from the stress of economic exigencies, and is in this
sense withdrawn from the rude impact of forces which make for
adaptation to the economic situation. The survival in the leisure
class, and under the leisure-class scheme of life, of traits and
types that are reminiscent of the predatory culture has already
been discussed. These aptitudes and habits have an exceptionally
favorable chance of survival under the leisure-class regime. Not
only does the sheltered pecuniary position of the leisure class
afford a situation favorable to the survival of such individuals
as are not gifted with the complement of aptitudes required for
serviceability in the modern industrial process; but the
leisure-class canons of reputability at the same time enjoin the
conspicuous exercise of certain predatory aptitudes. The
employments in which the predatory aptitudes find exercise serve
as an evidence of wealth, birth, and withdrawal from the
industrial process. The survival of the predatory traits under
the leisure-class culture is furthered both negatively, through
the industrial exemption of the class, and positively, through
the sanction of the leisure-class canons of decency.

With respect to the survival of traits characteristic of the
ante-predatory savage culture the case is in some degree
different. The sheltered position of the leisure class favors the
survival also of these traits; but the exercise of the aptitudes
for peace and good-will does not have the affirmative sanction of
the code of proprieties. Individuals gifted with a temperament
that is reminiscent of the ante-predatory culture are placed at
something of an advantage within the leisure class, as compared
with similarly gifted individuals outside the class, in that they
are not under a pecuniary necessity to thwart these aptitudes
that make for a non-competitive life; but such individuals are
still exposed to something of a moral constraint which urges them
to disregard these inclinations, in that the code of proprieties
enjoins upon them habits of life based on the predatory
aptitudes. So long as the system of status remains intact, and so
long as the leisure class has other lines of non-industrial
activity to take to than obvious killing of time in aimless and
wasteful fatigation, so long no considerable departure from the
leisure-class scheme of reputable life is to be looked for. The
occurrence of non-predatory temperament with the class at that
stage is to be looked upon as a case of sporadic reversion. But
the reputable non-industrial outlets for the human propensity to
action presently fail, through the advance of economic
development, the disappearance of large game, the decline of war,
the obsolescence of proprietary government, and the decay of the
priestly office. When this happens, the situation begins to
change. Human life must seek expression in one direction if it
may not in another; and if the predatory outlet fails, relief is
sought elsewhere.

As indicated above, the exemption from pecuniary stress has been
carried farther in the case of the leisure-class women of the
advanced industrial communities than in that of any other
considerable group of persons. The women may therefore be
expected to show a more pronounced reversion to a non-invidious
temperament than the men. But there is also among men of the
leisure class a perceptible increase in the range and scope of
activities that proceed from aptitudes which are not to be
classed as self-regarding, and the end of which is not an
invidious distinction. So, for instance, the greater number of
men who have to do with industry in the way of pecuniarily
managing an enterprise take some interest and some pride in
seeing that the work is well done and is industrially effective,
and this even apart from the profit which may result from any
improvement of this kind. The efforts of commercial clubs and
manufacturers' organizations in this direction of non-invidious
advancement of industrial efficiency are also well know.

The tendency to some other than an invidious purpose in life has
worked out in a multitude of organizations, the purpose of which
is some work of charity or of social amelioration. These
organizations are often of a quasi-religious or pseudo-religious
character, and are participated in by both men and women.
Examples will present themselves in abundance on reflection, but
for the purpose of indicating the range of the propensities in
question and of characterizing them, some of the more obvious
concrete cases may be cited. Such, for instance, are the
agitation for temperance and similar social reforms, for prison
reform, for the spread of education, for the suppression of vice,
and for the avoidance of war by arbitration, disarmament, or
other means; such are, in some measure, university settlements,
neighborhood guilds, the various organizations typified by the
Young Men's Christian Association and Young People's Society for
Christian Endeavor, sewing-clubs, art clubs, and even commercial
clubs; such are also, in some slight measure, the pecuniary
foundations of semi-public establishments for charity, education,
or amusement, whether they are endowed by wealthy individuals or
by contributions collected from persons of smaller means -- in so
far as these establishments are not of a religious character.

It is of course not intended to say that these efforts proceed
entirely from other motives than those of a self-regarding kind.
What can be claimed is that other motives are present in the
common run of cases, and that the perceptibly greater prevalence
of effort of this kind under the circumstances of the modern
industrial life than under the unbroken regime of the principle
of status, indicates the presence in modern life of an effective
scepticism with respect to the full legitimacy of an emulative
scheme of life. It is a matter of sufficient notoriety to have
become a commonplace jest that extraneous motives are commonly
present among the incentives to this class of work -- motives of
a self-regarding kind, and especially the motive of an invidious
distinction. To such an extent is this true, that many ostensible
works of disinterested public spirit are no doubt initiated and
carried on with a view primarily to the enhance repute or even to
the pecuniary gain, of their promoters. In the case of some
considerable groups of organizations or establishments of this
kind the invidious motive is apparently the dominant motive both
with the initiators of the work and with their supporters. This
last remark would hold true especially with respect to such works
as lend distinction to their doer through large and conspicuous
expenditure; as, for example, the foundation of a university or
of a public library or museum; but it is also, and perhaps
equally, true of the more commonplace work of participation in
such organizations. These serve to authenticate the pecuniary
reputability of their members, as well as gratefully to keep them
in mind of their superior status by pointing the contrast between
themselves and the lower-lying humanity in whom the work of
amelioration is to be wrought; as, for example, the university
settlement, which now has some vogue. But after all allowances
and deductions have been made, there is left some remainder of
motives of a non-emulative kind. The fact itself that distinction
or a decent good fame is sought by this method is evidence of a
prevalent sense of the legitimacy, and of the presumptive
effectual presence, of a non-emulative, non-invidious interest,
as a consistent factor in the habits of thought of modern
communities.

In all this latter-day range of leisure-class activities that
proceed on the basis of a non-invidious and non-religious
interest, it is to be noted that the women participate more
actively and more persistently than the men -- except, of course,
in the case of such works as require a large expenditure of
means. The dependent pecuniary position of the women disables
them for work requiring large expenditure. As regards the general
range of ameliorative work, the members of the priesthood or
clergy of the less naively devout sects, or the secularized
denominations, are associated with the class of women. This is as
the theory would have it. In other economic relations, also, this
clergy stands in a somewhat equivocal position between the class
of women and that of the men engaged in economic pursuits. By
tradition and by the prevalent sense of the proprieties, both the
clergy and the women of the well-to-do classes are placed in the
position of a vicarious leisure class; with both classes the
characteristic relation which goes to form the habits of thought
of the class is a relation of subservience -- that is to say, an
economic relation conceived in personal terms; in both classes
there is consequently perceptible a special proneness to construe
phenomena in terms of personal relation rather than of causal
sequence; both classes are so inhibited by the canons of decency
from the ceremonially unclean processes of the lucrative or
productive occupations as to make participation in the industrial
life process of today a moral impossibility for them. The result
of this ceremonial exclusion from productive effort of the vulgar
sort is to draft a relatively large share of the energies of the
modern feminine and priestly classes into the service of other
interests than the self-regarding one. The code leaves no
alternative direction in which the impulse to purposeful action
may find expression. The effect of a consistent inhibition on
industrially useful activity in the case of the leisure-class
women shows itself in a restless assertion of the impulse to
workmanship in other directions than that of business activity.
As has been noticed already, the everyday life of the
well-to-do women and the clergy contains a larger element of
status than that of the average of the men, especially than that
of the men engaged in the modern industrial occupations proper.
Hence the devout attitude survives in a better state of
preservation among these classes than among the common run of men
in the modern communities. Hence an appreciable share of the
energy which seeks expression in a non-lucrative employment among
these members of the vicarious leisure classes may be expected to
eventuate in devout observances and works of piety. Hence, in
part, the excess of the devout proclivity in women, spoken of in
the last chapter. But it is more to the present point to note the
effect of this proclivity in shaping the action and coloring the
purposes of the non-lucrative movements and organizations here
under discussion. Where this devout coloring is present it lowers
the immediate efficiency of the organizations for any economic
end to which their efforts may be directed. Many organizations,
charitable and ameliorative, divide their attention between the
devotional and the secular well-being of the people whose
interests they aim to further. It can scarcely be doubted that if
they were to give an equally serious attention and effort
undividedly to the secular interests of these people, the
immediate economic value of their work should be appreciably
higher than it is. It might of course similarly be said, if this
were the place to say it, that the immediate efficiency of these
works of amelioration for the devout might be greater if it were
not hampered with the secular motives and aims which are usually
present.

Some deduction is to be made from the economic value of this
class of non-invidious enterprise, on account of the intrusion of
the devotional interest. But there are also deductions to be made
on account of the presence of other alien motives which more or
less broadly traverse the economic trend of this non-emulative
expression of the instinct of workmanship. To such an extent is
this seen to be true on a closer scrutiny, that, when all is
told, it may even appear that this general class of enterprises
is of an altogether dubious economic value -- as measured in
terms of the fullness or facility of life of the individuals or
classes to whose amelioration the enterprise is directed. For
instance, many of the efforts now in reputable vogue for the
amelioration of the indigent population of large cities are of
the nature, in great part, of a mission of culture. It is by this
means sought to accelerate the rate of speed at which given
elements of the upper-class culture find acceptance in the
everyday scheme of life of the lower classes. The solicitude of
"settlements," for example, is in part directed to enhance the
industrial efficiency of the poor and to teach them the more
adequate utilization of the means at hand; but it is also no less
consistently directed to the inculcation, by precept and example,
of certain punctilios of upper-class propriety in manners and
customs. The economic substance of these proprieties will
commonly be found on scrutiny to be a conspicuous waste of time
and goods. Those good people who go out to humanize the poor are
commonly, and advisedly, extremely scrupulous and silently
insistent in matters of decorum and the decencies of life. They
are commonly persons of an exemplary life and gifted with a
tenacious insistence on ceremonial cleanness in the various items
of their daily consumption. The cultural or civilizing efficacy
of this inculcation of correct habits of thought with respect to
the consumption of time and commodities is scarcely to be
overrated; nor is its economic value to the individual who
acquires these higher and more reputable ideals inconsiderable.
Under the circumstances of the existing pecuniary culture, the
reputability, and consequently the success, of the individual is
in great measure dependent on his proficiency in demeanor and
methods of consumption that argue habitual waste of time and
goods. But as regards the ulterior economic bearing of this
training in worthier methods of life, it is to be said that the
effect wrought is in large part a substitution of costlier or
less efficient methods of accomplishing the same material
results, in relations where the material result is the fact of
substantial economic value. The propaganda of culture is in great
part an inculcation of new tastes, or rather of a new schedule of
proprieties, which have been adapted to the upper-class scheme of
life under the guidance of the leisure-class formulation of the
principles of status and pecuniary decency. This new schedule of
proprieties is intruded into the lower-class scheme of life from
the code elaborated by an element of the population whose life
lies outside the industrial process; and this intrusive schedule
can scarcely be expected to fit the exigencies of life for these
lower classes more adequately than the schedule already in vogue
among them, and especially not more adequately than the schedule
which they are themselves working out under the stress of modern
industrial life.

All this of course does not question the fact that the
proprieties of the substituted schedule are more decorous than
those which they displace. The doubt which presents itself is
simply a doubt as to the economic expediency of this work of
regeneration -- that is to say, the economic expediency in that
immediate and material bearing in which the effects of the change
can be ascertained with some degree of confidence, and as viewed
from the standpoint not of the individual but of the facility of
life of the collectivity. For an appreciation of the economic
expediency of these enterprises of amelioration, therefore, their
effective work is scarcely to be taken at its face value, even
where the aim of the enterprise is primarily an economic one and
where the interest on which it proceeds is in no sense
self-regarding or invidious. The economic reform wrought is
largely of the nature of a permutation in the methods of
conspicuous waste.

But something further is to be said with respect to the character
of the disinterested motives and canons of procedure in all work
of this class that is affected by the habits of thought
characteristic of the pecuniary culture; and this further
consideration may lead to a further qualification of the
conclusions already reached. As has been seen in an earlier
chapter, the canons of reputability or decency under the
pecuniary culture insist on habitual futility of effort as the
mark of a pecuniarily blameless life. There results not only a
habit of disesteem of useful occupations, but there results also
what is of more decisive consequence in guiding the action of any
organized body of people that lays claim to social good repute.
There is a tradition which requires that one should not be
vulgarly familiar with any of the processes or details that have
to do with the material necessities of life. One may
meritoriously show a quantitative interest in the well-being of
the vulgar, through subscriptions or through work on managing
committees and the like. One may, perhaps even more
meritoriously, show solicitude in general and in detail for the
cultural welfare of the vulgar, in the way of contrivances for
elevating their tastes and affording them opportunities for
spiritual amelioration. But one should not betray an intimate
knowledge of the material circumstances of vulgar life, or of the
habits of thought of the vulgar classes, such as would
effectually direct the efforts of these organizations to a
materially useful end. This reluctance to avow an unduly intimate
knowledge of the lower-class conditions of life in detail of
course prevails in very different degrees in different
individuals; but there is commonly enough of it present
collectively in any organization of the kind in question
profoundly to influence its course of action. By its cumulative
action in shaping the usage and precedents of any such body, this
shrinking from an imputation of unseemly familiarity with vulgar
life tends gradually to set aside the initial motives of the
enterprise, in favor of certain guiding principles of good
repute, ultimately reducible to terms of pecuniary merit. So that
in an organization of long standing the initial motive of
furthering the facility of life in these classes comes gradually
to be an ostensible motive only, and the vulgarly effective work
of the organization tends to obsolescence.

What is true of the efficiency of organizations for non-invidious
work in this respect is true also as regards the work of
individuals proceeding on the same motives; though it perhaps
holds true with more qualification for individuals than for
organized enterprises. The habit of gauging merit by the
leisure-class canons of wasteful expenditure and unfamiliarity
with vulgar life, whether on the side of production or of
consumption, is necessarily strong in the individuals who aspire
to do some work of public utility. And if the individual should
forget his station and turn his efforts to vulgar effectiveness,
the common sense of the community-the sense of pecuniary decency
-- would presently reject his work and set him right. An example
of this is seen in the administration of bequests made by
public-spirited men for the single purpose (at least ostensibly)
of furthering the facility of human life in some particular
respect. The objects for which bequests of this class are most
frequently made at present are most frequently made at present
are schools, libraries, hospitals, and asylums for the infirm or
unfortunate. The avowed purpose of the donor in these cases is
the amelioration of human life in the particular respect which is
named in the bequest; but it will be found an invariable rule
that in the execution of the work not a little of other motives,
frequency incompatible with the initial motive, is present and
determines the particular disposition eventually made of a good
share of the means which have been set apart by the bequest.
Certain funds, for instance, may have been set apart as a
foundation for a foundling asylum or a retreat for invalids. The
diversion of expenditure to honorific waste in such cases is not
uncommon enough to cause surprise or even to raise a smile. An
appreciable share of the funds is spent in the construction of an
edifice faced with some aesthetically objectionable but expensive
stone, covered with grotesque and incongruous details, and
designed, in its battlemented walls and turrets and its massive
portals and strategic approaches, to suggest certain barbaric
methods of warfare. The interior of the structure shows the same
pervasive guidance of the canons of conspicuous waste and
predatory exploit. The windows, for instance, to go no farther
into detail, are placed with a view to impress their pecuniary
excellence upon the chance beholder from the outside, rather than
with a view to effectiveness for their ostensible end in the
convenience or comfort of the beneficiaries within; and the
detail of interior arrangement is required to conform itself as
best it may to this alien but imperious requirement of pecuniary
beauty.

In all this, of course, it is not to be presumed that the donor
would have found fault, or that he would have done
otherwise if he had taken control in person; it appears that in
those cases where such a personal direction is exercised -- where
the enterprise is conducted by direct expenditure and
superintendence instead of by bequest -- the aims and methods of
management are not different in this respect. Nor would the
beneficiaries, or the outside observers whose ease or vanity are
not immediately touched, be pleased with a different disposition
of the funds. It would suit no one to have the enterprise
conducted with a view directly to the most economical and
effective use of the means at hand for the initial, material end
of the foundation. All concerned, whether their interest is
immediate and self-regarding, or contemplative only, agree that
some considerable share of the expenditure should go to the
higher or spiritual needs derived from the habit of an invidious
comparison in predatory exploit and pecuniary waste. But this
only goes to say that the canons of emulative and pecuniary
reputability so far pervade the common sense of the community as
to permit no escape or evasion, even in the case of an enterprise
which ostensibly proceeds entirely on the basis of a
non-invidious interest.

It may even be that the enterprise owes its honorific virtue, as
a means of enhancing the donor's good repute, to the imputed
presence of this non-invidious motive; but that does not hinder
the invidious interest from guiding the expenditure. The
effectual presence of motives of an emulative or invidious origin
in non-emulative works of this kind might be shown at length and
with detail, in any one of the classes of enterprise spoken of
above. Where these honorific details occur, in such cases, they
commonly masquerade under designations that belong in the field
of the aesthetic, ethical or economic interest. These special
motives, derived from the standards and canons of the pecuniary
culture, act surreptitiously to divert effort of a non-invidious
kind from effective service, without disturbing the agent's sense
of good intention or obtruding upon his consciousness the
substantial futility of his work. Their effect might be traced
through the entire range of that schedule of non-invidious,
meliorative enterprise that is so considerable a feature, and
especially so conspicuous a feature, in the overt scheme of life
of the well-to-do. But the theoretical bearing is perhaps clear
enough and may require no further illustration; especially as
some detailed attention will be given to one of these lines of
enterprise -- the establishments for the higher learning -- in
another connection.

Under the circumstances of the sheltered situation in which the
leisure class is placed there seems, therefore, to be
something of a reversion to the range of non-invidious impulses
that characterizes the ante-predatory savage culture. The
reversion comprises both the sense of workmanship and the
proclivity to indolence and good-fellowship. But in the modern
scheme of life canons of conduct based on pecuniary or invidious
merit stand in the way of a free exercise of these impulses; and
the dominant presence of these canons of conduct goes far to
divert such efforts as are made on the basis of the non-invidious
interest to the service of that invidious interest on which the
pecuniary culture rests. The canons of pecuniary decency are
reducible for the present purpose to the principles of waste,
futility, and ferocity. The requirements of decency are
imperiously present in meliorative enterprise as in other lines
of conduct, and exercise a selective surveillance over the
details of conduct and management in any enterprise. By guiding
and adapting the method in detail, these canons of decency go far
to make all non-invidious aspiration or effort nugatory. The
pervasive, impersonal, un-eager principle of futility is at hand
from day to day and works obstructively to hinder the effectual
expression of so much of the surviving ante-predatory aptitudes
as is to be classed under the instinct of workmanship; but its
presence does not preclude the transmission of those aptitudes or
the continued recurrence of an impulse to find expression for
them.

In the later and farther development of the pecuniary culture,
the requirement of withdrawal from the industrial process in
order to avoid social odium is carried so far as to comprise
abstention from the emulative employments. At this advanced stage
the pecuniary culture negatively favors the assertion of the
non-invidious propensities by relaxing the stress laid on the
merit of emulative, predatory, or pecuniary occupations, as
compared with those of an industrial or productive kind. As was
noticed above, the requirement of such withdrawal from all
employment that is of human use applies more rigorously to the
upper-class women than to any other class, unless the priesthood
of certain cults might be cited as an exception, perhaps more
apparent than real, to this rule. The reason for the more extreme
insistence on a futile life for this class of women than for the
men of the same pecuniary and social grade lies in their being
not only an upper-grade leisure class but also at the same time a
vicarious leisure class. There is in their case a double ground
for a consistent withdrawal from useful effort.

It has been well and repeatedly said by popular writers and
speakers who reflect the common sense of intelligent people on
questions of social structure and function that the position of
woman in any community is the most striking index of the level of
culture attained by the community, and it might be added, by any
given class in the community. This remark is perhaps truer as
regards the stage of economic development than as regards
development in any other respect. At the same time the position
assigned to the woman in the accepted scheme of life, in any
community or under any culture, is in a very great degree an
expression of traditions which have been shaped by the
circumstances of an earlier phase of development, and which have
been but partially adapted to the existing economic
circumstances, or to the existing exigencies of temperament and
habits of mind by which the women living under this modern
economic situation are actuated.

The fact has already been remarked upon incidentally in the
course of the discussion of the growth of economic institutions
generally, and in particular in speaking of vicarious leisure and
of dress, that the position of women in the modern economic
scheme is more widely and more consistently at variance with the
promptings of the instinct of workmanship than is the position of
the men of the same classes. It is also apparently true that the
woman's temperament includes a larger share of this instinct that
approves peace and disapproves futility. It is therefore not a
fortuitous circumstance that the women of modern industrial
communities show a livelier sense of the discrepancy between the
accepted scheme of life and the exigencies of the economic
situation.

The several phases of the "woman question" have brought out in
intelligible form the extent to which the life of women in modern
society, and in the polite circles especially, is regulated by a
body of common sense formulated under the economic circumstances
of an earlier phase of development. It is still felt that woman's
life, in its civil, economic, and social bearing, is essentially
and normally a vicarious life, the merit or demerit of which is,
in the nature of things, to be imputed to some other individual
who stands in some relation of ownership or tutelage to the
woman. So, for instance, any action on the part of a woman which
traverses an injunction of the accepted schedule of proprieties
is felt to reflect immediately upon the honor of the man whose
woman she is. There may of course be some sense of incongruity in
the mind of any one passing an opinion of this kind on the
woman's frailty or perversity; but the common-sense judgment of
the community in such matters is, after all, delivered without
much hesitation, and few men would question the legitimacy of
their sense of an outraged tutelage in any case that might arise.
On the other hand, relatively little discredit attaches to a
woman through the evil deeds of the man with whom her life is
associated.

The good and beautiful scheme of life, then -- that is to say the
scheme to which we are habituated -- assigns to the woman a
"sphere" ancillary to the activity of the man; and it is felt
that any departure from the traditions of her assigned round of
duties is unwomanly. If the question is as to civil rights or the
suffrage, our common sense in the matter -- that is to say the
logical deliverance of our general scheme of life upon the point
in question -- says that the woman should be represented in the
body politic and before the law, not immediately in her own
person, but through the mediation of the head of the household to
which she belongs. It is unfeminine in her to aspire to a
self-directing, self-centered life; and our common sense tells us
that her direct participation in the affairs of the community,
civil or industrial, is a menace to that social order which
expresses our habits of thought as they have been formed under
the guidance of the traditions of the pecuniary culture. "All
this fume and froth of 'emancipating woman from the slavery of
man' and so on, is, to use the chaste and expressive language of
Elizabeth Cady Stanton inversely, 'utter rot.' The social
relations of the sexes are fixed by nature. Our entire
civilization -- that is whatever is good in it -- is based on the
home." The "home" is the household with a male head. This view,
but commonly expressed even more chastely, is the prevailing view
of the woman's status, not only among the common run of the men
of civilized communities, but among the women as well. Women have
a very alert sense of what the scheme of proprieties requires,
and while it is true that many of them are ill at ease under the
details which the code imposes, there are few who do not
recognize that the existing moral order, of necessity and by the
divine right of prescription, places the woman in a position
ancillary to the man. In the last analysis, according to her own
sense of what is good and beautiful, the woman's life is, and in
theory must be, an expression of the man's life at the second
remove.

But in spite of this pervading sense of what is the good and
natural place for the woman, there is also perceptible an
incipient development of sentiment to the effect that this whole
arrangement of tutelage and vicarious life and imputation of
merit and demerit is somehow a mistake. Or, at least, that even
if it may be a natural growth and a good arrangement in its time
and place, and in spite of its patent aesthetic value, still it
does not adequately serve the more everyday ends of life in a
modern industrial community. Even that large and substantial body
of well-bred, upper and middle-class women to whose
dispassionate, matronly sense of the traditional proprieties this
relation of status commends itself as fundamentally and eternally
right-even these, whose attitude is conservative, commonly find
some slight discrepancy in detail between things as they are and
things as they should be in this respect. But that less
manageable body of modern women who, by force of youth,
education, or temperament, are in some degree out of touch with
the traditions of status received from the barbarian culture, and
in whom there is, perhaps, an undue reversion to the impulse of
self-expression and workmanship -- these are touched with a sense
of grievance too vivid to leave them at rest.

In this "New-Woman" movement -- as these blind and
incoherent efforts to rehabilitate the woman's pre-glacial
standing have been named -- there are at least two elements
discernible, both of which are of an economic character. These
two elements or motives are expressed by the double watchword,
"Emancipation" and "Work." Each of these words is recognized to
stand for something in the way of a wide-spread sense of
grievance. The prevalence of the sentiment is recognized even by
people who do not see that there is any real ground for a
grievance in the situation as it stands today. It is among the
women of the well-to-do classes, in the communities which are
farthest advanced in industrial development, that this sense of a
grievance to be redressed is most alive and finds most frequent
expression. That is to say, in other words, there is a demand,
more or less serious, for emancipation from all relation of
status, tutelage, or vicarious life; and the revulsion asserts
itself especially among the class of women upon whom the scheme
of life handed down from the regime of status imposes with least
litigation a vicarious life, and in those communities whose
economic development has departed farthest from the circumstances
to which this traditional scheme is adapted. The demand comes
from that portion of womankind which is excluded by the canons of
good repute from all effectual work, and which is closely
reserved for a life of leisure and conspicuous consumption.

More than one critic of this new-woman movement has
misapprehended its motive. The case of the American "new woman"
has lately been summed up with some warmth by a popular observer
of social phenomena: "She is petted by her husband, the most
devoted and hard-working of husbands in the world. ... She is the
superior of her husband in education, and in almost every
respect. She is surrounded by the most numerous and delicate
attentions. Yet she is not satisfied. ... The Anglo-Saxon 'new
woman' is the most ridiculous production of modern times, and
destined to be the most ghastly failure of the century." Apart
from the deprecation -- perhaps well placed -- which is contained
in this presentment, it adds nothing but obscurity to the woman
question. The grievance of the new woman is made up of those
things which this typical characterization of the movement urges
as reasons why she should be content. She is petted, and is
permitted, or even required, to consume largely and conspicuously
-- vicariously for her husband or other natural guardian. She is
exempted, or debarred, from vulgarly useful employment -- in
order to perform leisure vicariously for the good repute of her
natural (pecuniary) guardian. These offices are the conventional
marks of the un-free, at the same time that they are incompatible
with the human impulse to purposeful activity. But the woman is
endowed with her share-which there is reason to believe is more
than an even share -- of the instinct of workmanship, to which
futility of life or of expenditure is obnoxious. She must unfold
her life activity in response to the direct, unmediated stimuli
of the economic environment with which she is in contact. The
impulse is perhaps stronger upon the woman than upon the man to
live her own life in her own way and to enter the industrial
process of the community at something nearer than the second
remove.

So long as the woman's place is consistently that of a drudge,
she is, in the average of cases, fairly contented with her lot.
She not only has something tangible and purposeful to do, but she
has also no time or thought to spare for a rebellious assertion
of such human propensity to self-direction as she has inherited.
And after the stage of universal female drudgery is passed, and a
vicarious leisure without strenuous application becomes the
accredited employment of the women of the well-to-do classes, the
prescriptive force of the canon of pecuniary decency, which
requires the observance of ceremonial futility on their part,
will long preserve high-minded women from any sentimental leaning
to self-direction and a "sphere of usefulness." This is
especially true during the earlier phases of the pecuniary
culture, while the leisure of the leisure class is still in great
measure a predatory activity, an active assertion of mastery in
which there is enough of tangible purpose of an invidious kind to
admit of its being taken seriously as an employment to which one
may without shame put one's hand. This condition of things has
obviously lasted well down into the present in some communities.
It continues to hold to a different extent for different
individuals, varying with the vividness of the sense of status
and with the feebleness of the impulse to workmanship with which
the individual is endowed. But where the economic structure of
the community has so far outgrown the scheme of life based on
status that the relation of personal subservience is no longer
felt to be the sole "natural" human relation; there the ancient
habit of purposeful activity will begin to assert itself in the
less conformable individuals against the more recent, relatively
superficial, relatively ephemeral habits and views which the
predatory and the pecuniary culture have contributed to our
scheme of life. These habits and views begin to lose their
coercive force for the community or the class in question so soon
as the habit of mind and the views of life due to the predatory
and the quasi-peaceable discipline cease to be in fairly close
accord with the later-developed economic situation. This is
evident in the case of the industrious classes of modern
communities; for them the leisure-class scheme of life has lost
much of its binding force, especially as regards the element of
status. But it is also visibly being verified in the case of the
upper classes, though not in the same manner.

The habits derived from the predatory and quasi-peaceable culture
are relatively ephemeral variants of certain underlying
propensities and mental characteristics of the race; which it
owes to the protracted discipline of the earlier,
proto-anthropoid cultural stage of peaceable, relatively
undifferentiated economic life carried on in contact with a
relatively simple and invariable material environment. When the
habits superinduced by the emulative method of life have ceased
to enjoy the section of existing economic exigencies, a process
of disintegration sets in whereby the habits of thought of more
recent growth and of a less generic character to some extent
yield the ground before the more ancient and more pervading
spiritual characteristics of the race.

In a sense, then, the new-woman movement marks a reversion to a
more generic type of human character, or to a less
differentiated expression of human nature. It is a type of human
nature which is to be characterized as proto-anthropoid, and, as
regards the substance if not the form of its dominant traits, it
belongs to a cultural stage that may be classed as possibly
sub-human. The particular movement or evolutional feature in
question of course shares this characterization with the rest of
the later social development, in so far as this social
development shows evidence of a reversion to the spiritual
attitude that characterizes the earlier, undifferentiated stage
of economic revolution. Such evidence of a general tendency to
reversion from the dominance of the invidious interest is not
entirely wanting, although it is neither plentiful nor
unquestionably convincing. The general decay of the sense of
status in modern industrial communities goes some way as evidence
in this direction; and the perceptible return to a disapproval of
futility in human life, and a disapproval of such activities as
serve only the individual gain at the cost of the collectivity or
at the cost of other social groups, is evidence to a like effect.
There is a perceptible tendency to deprecate the infliction of
pain, as well as to discredit all marauding enterprises, even
where these expressions of the invidious interest do not tangibly
work to the material detriment of the community or of the
individual who passes an opinion on them. It may even be said
that in the modern industrial communities the average,
dispassionate sense of men says that the ideal character is a
character which makes for peace, good-will, and economic
efficiency, rather than for a life of self-seeking, force, fraud,
and mastery.

The influence of the leisure class is not consistently for or
against the rehabilitation of this proto-anthropoid human nature.
So far as concerns the chance of survival of individuals endowed
with an exceptionally large share of the primitive traits, the
sheltered position of the class favors its members directly by
withdrawing them from the pecuniary struggle; but indirectly,
through the leisure-class canons of conspicuous waste of goods
and effort, the institution of a leisure class lessens the chance
of survival of such individuals in the entire body of the
population. The decent requirements of waste absorb the surplus
energy of the population in an invidious struggle and leave no
margin for the non-invidious expression of life. The remoter,
less tangible, spiritual effects of the discipline of decency go
in the same direction and work perhaps more effectually to the
same end. The canons of decent life are an elaboration of the
principle of invidious comparison, and they accordingly act
consistently to inhibit all non-invidious effort and to inculcate
the self-regarding attitude.




Chapter Fourteen

The Higher Learning as an Expression of the Pecuniary Culture

To the end that suitable habits of thought on certain heads may
be conserved in the incoming generation, a scholastic discipline
is sanctioned by the common sense of the community and
incorporated into the accredited scheme of life. The habits of
thought which are so formed under the guidance of teachers and
scholastic traditions have an economic value -- a value as
affecting the serviceability of the individual -- no less real
than the similar economic value of the habits of thought formed
without such guidance under the discipline of everyday life.
Whatever characteristics of the accredited scholastic scheme and
discipline are traceable to the predilections of the leisure
class or to the guidance of the canons of pecuniary merit are to
be set down to the account of that institution, and whatever
economic value these features of the educational scheme possess
are the expression in detail of the value of that institution. It
will be in place, therefore, to point out any peculiar features
of the educational system which are traceable to the
leisure-class scheme of life, whether as regards the aim and
method of the discipline, or as regards the compass and character
of the body of knowledge inculcated. It is in learning proper,
and more particularly in the higher learning, that the influence
of leisure-class ideals is most patent; and since the purpose
here is not to make an exhaustive collation of data showing the
effect of the pecuniary culture upon education, but rather to
illustrate the method and trend of the leisure-class influence in
education, a survey of certain salient features of the higher
learning, such as may serve this purpose, is all that will be
attempted.

In point of derivation and early development, learning is
somewhat closely related to the devotional function of the
community, particularly to the body of observances in which the
service rendered the supernatural leisure class expresses itself.
The service by which it is sought to conciliate supernatural
agencies in the primitive cults is not an industrially profitable
employment of the community's time and effort. It is, therefore,
in great part, to be classed as a vicarious leisure performed for
the supernatural powers with whom negotiations are carried on and
whose good-will the service and the professions of subservience
are conceived to procure. In great part, the early learning
consisted in an acquisition of knowledge and facility in the
service of a supernatural agent. It was therefore closely
analogous in character to the training required for the domestic
service of a temporal master. To a great extent, the knowledge
acquired under the priestly teachers of the primitive community
was knowledge of ritual and ceremonial; that is to say, a
knowledge of the most proper, most effective, or most acceptable
manner of approaching and of serving the preternatural agents.
What was learned was how to make oneself indispensable to these
powers, and so to put oneself in a position to ask, or even to
require, their intercession in the course of events or their
abstention from interference in any given enterprise.
Propitiation was the end, and this end was sought, in great part,
by acquiring facility in subservience. It appears to have been
only gradually that other elements than those of efficient
service of the master found their way into the stock of priestly
or shamanistic instruction.

The priestly servitor of the inscrutable powers that move in the
external world came to stand in the position of a mediator
between these powers and the common run of unrestricted humanity;
for he was possessed of a knowledge of the supernatural etiquette
which would admit him into the presence. And as commonly happens
with mediators between the vulgar and their masters, whether the
masters be natural or preternatural, he found it expedient to
have the means at hand tangibly to impress upon the vulgar the
fact that these inscrutable powers would do what he might ask of
them. Hence, presently, a knowledge of certain natural processes
which could be turned to account for spectacular effect, together
with some sleight of hand, came to be an integral part of
priestly lore. Knowledge of this kind passes for knowledge of the
"unknowable", and it owes its serviceability for the sacerdotal
purpose to its recondite character. It appears to have been from
this source that learning, as an institution, arose, and its
differentiation from this its parent stock of magic ritual and
shamanistic fraud has been slow and tedious, and is scarcely yet
complete even in the most advanced of the higher seminaries of
learning.

The recondite element in learning is still, as it has been in all
ages, a very attractive and effective element for the purpose of
impressing, or even imposing upon, the unlearned; and the
standing of the savant in the mind of the altogether
unlettered is in great measure rated in terms of intimacy with
the occult forces. So, for instance, as a typical case, even so
late as the middle of this century, the Norwegian peasants have
instinctively formulated their sense of the superior erudition of
such doctors of divinity as Luther, Malanchthon, Peder Dass, and
even so late a scholar in divinity as Grundtvig, in terms of the
Black Art. These, together with a very comprehensive list of
minor celebrities, both living and dead, have been reputed
masters in all magical arts; and a high position in the
ecclesiastical personnel has carried with it, in the apprehension
of these good people, an implication of profound familiarity with
magical practice and the occult sciences. There is a parallel
fact nearer home, similarly going to show the close relationship,
in popular apprehension, between erudition and the unknowable;
and it will at the same time serve to illustrate, in somewhat
coarse outline, the bent which leisure-class life gives to the
cognitive interest. While the belief is by no means confined to
the leisure class, that class today comprises a
disproportionately large number of believers in occult sciences
of all kinds and shades. By those whose habits of thought are not
shaped by contact with modern industry, the knowledge of the
unknowable is still felt to the ultimate if not the only true
knowledge.

Learning, then, set out by being in some sense a by-product of
the priestly vicarious leisure class; and, at least until a
recent date, the higher learning has since remained in some sense
a by-product or by-occupation of the priestly classes. As the
body of systematized knowledge increased, there presently arose a
distinction, traceable very far back in the history of education,
between esoteric and exoteric knowledge, the former -- so far as
there is a substantial difference between the two -- comprising
such knowledge as is primarily of no economic or industrial
effect, and the latter comprising chiefly knowledge of industrial
processes and of natural phenomena which were habitually turned
to account for the material purposes of life. This line of
demarcation has in time become, at least in popular apprehension,
the normal line between the higher learning and the lower.

It is significant, not only as an evidence of their close
affiliation with the priestly craft, but also as indicating that
their activity to a good extent falls under that category of
conspicuous leisure known as manners and breeding, that the
learned class in all primitive communities are great sticklers
for form, precedent, gradations of rank, ritual, ceremonial
vestments, and learned paraphernalia generally. This is of course
to be expected, and it goes to say that the higher learning, in
its incipient phase, is a leisure-class occupation -- more
specifically an occupation of the vicarious leisure class
employed in the service of the supernatural leisure class. But
this predilection for the paraphernalia of learning goes also to
indicate a further point of contact or of continuity between the
priestly office and the office of the savant. In point of
derivation, learning, as well as the priestly office, is largely
an outgrowth of sympathetic magic; and this magical apparatus of
form and ritual therefore finds its place with the learned class
of the primitive community as a matter of course. The ritual and
paraphernalia have an occult efficacy for the magical purpose; so
that their presence as an integral factor in the earlier phases
of the development of magic and science is a matter of
expediency, quite as much as of affectionate regard for symbolism
simply.

This sense of the efficacy of symbolic ritual, and of sympathetic
effect to be wrought through dexterous rehearsal of the
traditional accessories of the act or end to be compassed, is of
course present more obviously and in larger measure in magical
practice than in the discipline of the sciences, even of the
occult sciences. But there are, I apprehend, few persons with a
cultivated sense of scholastic merit to whom the ritualistic
accessories of science are altogether an idle matter. The very
great tenacity with which these ritualistic paraphernalia persist
through the later course of the development is evident to any one
who will reflect on what has been the history of learning in our
civilization. Even today there are such things in the usage of
the learned community as the cap and gown, matriculation,
initiation, and graduation ceremonies, and the conferring of
scholastic degrees, dignities, and prerogatives in a way which
suggests some sort of a scholarly apostolic succession. The usage
of the priestly orders is no doubt the proximate source of all
these features of learned ritual, vestments, sacramental
initiation, the transmission of peculiar dignities and virtues by
the imposition of hands, and the like; but their derivation is
traceable back of this point, to the source from which the
specialized priestly class proper came to be distinguished from
the sorcerer on the one hand and from the menial servant of a
temporal master on the other hand. So far as regards both their
derivation and their psychological content, these usages and the
conceptions on which they rest belong to a stage in cultural
development no later than that of the angekok and the rain-maker.
Their place in the later phases of devout observance, as well as
in the higher educational system, is that of a survival from a
very early animistic phase of the development of human nature.

These ritualistic features of the educational system of the
present and of the recent past, it is quite safe to say, have
their place primarily in the higher, liberal, and classic
institutions and grades of learning, rather than in the lower,
technological, or practical grades, and branches of the system.
So far as they possess them, the lower and less reputable
branches of the educational scheme have evidently borrowed these
things from the higher grades; and their continued persistence
among the practical schools, without the sanction of the
continued example of the higher and classic grades, would be
highly improbable, to say the least. With the lower and practical
schools and scholars, the adoption and cultivation of these
usages is a case of mimicry -- due to a desire to conform as far
as may be to the standards of scholastic reputability maintained
by the upper grades and classes, who have come by these accessory
features legitimately, by the right of lineal devolution.

The analysis may even be safely carried a step farther.
Ritualistic survivals and reversions come out in fullest vigor
and with the freest air of spontaneity among those seminaries of
learning which have to do primarily with the education of the
priestly and leisure classes. Accordingly it should appear, and
it does pretty plainly appear, on a survey of recent developments
in college and university life, that wherever schools founded for
the instruction of the lower classes in the immediately useful
branches of knowledge grow into institutions of the higher
learning, the growth of ritualistic ceremonial and paraphernalia
and of elaborate scholastic "functions" goes hand in hand with
the transition of the schools in question from the field of
homely practicality into the higher, classical sphere. The
initial purpose of these schools, and the work with which they
have chiefly had to do at the earlier of these two stages of
their evolution, has been that of fitting the young of the
industrious classes for work. On the higher, classical plane of
learning to which they commonly tend, their dominant aim becomes
the preparation of the youth of the priestly and the leisure
classes -- or of an incipient leisure class -- for the
consumption of goods, material and immaterial, according to a
conventionally accepted, reputable scope and method. This happy
issue has commonly been the fate of schools founded by "friends
of the people" for the aid of struggling young men, and where
this transition is made in good form there is commonly, if not
invariably, a coincident change to a more ritualistic life in the
schools.

In the school life of today, learned ritual is in a general way
best at home in schools whose chief end is the cultivation of the
"humanities". This correlation is shown, perhaps more neatly than
anywhere else, in the life-history of the American colleges and
universities of recent growth. There may be many exceptions from
the rule, especially among those schools which have been founded
by the typically reputable and ritualistic churches, and which,
therefore, started on the conservative and classical plane or
reached the classical position by a short-cut; but the general
rule as regards the colleges founded in the newer American
communities during the present century has been that so long as
the constituency from which the colleges have drawn their pupils
has been dominated by habits of industry and thrift, so long the
reminiscences of the medicine-man have found but a scant and
precarious acceptance in the scheme of college life. But so soon
as wealth begins appreciably to accumulate in the community, and
so soon as a given school begins to lean on a leisure-class
constituency, there comes also a perceptibly increased insistence
on scholastic ritual and on conformity to the ancient forms as
regards vestments and social and scholastic solemnities. So, for
instance, there has been an approximate coincidence between the
growth of wealth among the constituency which supports any given
college of the Middle West and the date of acceptance -- first
into tolerance and then into imperative vogue -- of evening dress
for men and of the décolleté for women, as the scholarly
vestments proper to occasions of learned solemnity or to the
seasons of social amenity within the college circle. Apart from
the mechanical difficulty of so large a task, it would scarcely
be a difficult matter to trace this correlation. The like is true
of the vogue of the cap and gown.

Cap and gown have been adopted as learned insignia by many
colleges of this section within the last few years; and it is
safe to say that this could scarcely have occurred at a much
earlier date, or until there had grown up a leisure-class
sentiment of sufficient volume in the community to support a
strong movement of reversion towards an archaic view as to the
legitimate end of education. This particular item of learned
ritual, it may be noted, would not only commend itself to the
leisure-class sense of the fitness of things, as appealing to the
archaic propensity for spectacular effect and the predilection
for antique symbolism; but it at the same time fits into the
leisure-class scheme of life as involving a notable element of
conspicuous waste. The precise date at which the reversion to cap
and gown took place, as well as the fact that it affected so
large a number of schools at about the same time, seems to have
been due in some measure to a wave of atavistic sense of
conformity and reputability that passed over the community at
that period.

It may not be entirely beside the point to note that in point of
time this curious reversion seems to coincide with the
culmination of a certain vogue of atavistic sentiment and
tradition in other directions also. The wave of reversion seems
to have received its initial impulse in the psychologically
disintegrating effects of the Civil War. Habituation to war
entails a body of predatory habits of thought, whereby
clannishness in some measure replaces the sense of solidarity,
and a sense of invidious distinction supplants the impulse to
equitable, everyday serviceability. As an outcome of the
cumulative action of these factors, the generation which follows
a season of war is apt to witness a rehabilitation of the element
of status, both in its social life and in its scheme of devout
observances and other symbolic or ceremonial forms. Throughout
the eighties, and less plainly traceable through the seventies
also, there was perceptible a gradually advancing wave of
sentiment favoring quasi-predatory business habits, insistence on
status, anthropomorphism, and conservatism generally. The more
direct and unmediated of these expressions of the barbarian
temperament, such as the recrudescence of outlawry and the
spectacular quasi-predatory careers of fraud run by certain
"captains of industry", came to a head earlier and were
appreciably on the decline by the close of the seventies. The
recrudescence of anthropomorphic sentiment also seems to have
passed its most acute stage before the close of the eighties. But
the learned ritual and paraphernalia here spoken of are a still
remoter and more recondite expression of the barbarian animistic
sense; and these, therefore, gained vogue and elaboration more
slowly and reached their most effective development at a still
later date. There is reason to believe that the culmination is
now already past. Except for the new impetus given by a new war
experience, and except for the support which the growth of a
wealthy class affords to all ritual, and especially to whatever
ceremonial is wasteful and pointedly suggests gradations of
status, it is probable that the late improvements and
augmentation of scholastic insignia and ceremonial would
gradually decline. But while it may be true that the cap and
gown, and the more strenuous observance of scholastic proprieties
which came with them, were floated in on this post-bellum tidal
wave of reversion to barbarism, it is also no doubt true that
such a ritualistic reversion could not have been effected in the
college scheme of life until the accumulation of wealth in the
hands of a propertied class had gone far enough to afford the
requisite pecuniary ground for a movement which should bring the
colleges of the country up to the leisure-class requirements in
the higher learning. The adoption of the cap and gown is one of
the striking atavistic features of modern college life, and at
the same time it marks the fact that these colleges have
definitely become leisure-class establishments, either in actual
achievement or in aspiration.

As further evidence of the close relation between the educational
system and the cultural standards of the community, it may be
remarked that there is some tendency latterly to substitute the
captain of industry in place of the priest, as the head of
seminaries of the higher learning. The substitution is by no
means complete or unequivocal. Those heads of institutions are
best accepted who combine the sacerdotal office with a high
degree of pecuniary efficiency. There is a similar but less
pronounced tendency to intrust the work of instruction in the
higher learning to men of some pecuniary qualification.
Administrative ability and skill in advertising the enterprise
count for rather more than they once did, as qualifications for
the work of teaching. This applies especially in those sciences
that have most to do with the everyday facts of life, and it is
particularly true of schools in the economically single-minded
communities. This partial substitution of pecuniary for
sacerdotal efficiency is a concomitant of the modern transition
from conspicuous leisure to conspicuous consumption, as the chief
means of reputability. The correlation of the two facts is
probably clear without further elaboration.

The attitude of the schools and of the learned class towards the
education of women serves to show in what manner and to what
extent learning has departed from its ancient station of priestly
and leisure-class prerogatives, and it indicates also what
approach has been made by the truly learned to the modern,
economic or industrial, matter-of-fact standpoint. The higher
schools and the learned professions were until recently tabu to
the women. These establishments were from the outset, and have in
great measure continued to be, devoted to the education of the
priestly and leisure classes.

The women, as has been shown elsewhere, were the original
subservient class, and to some extent, especially so far as
regards their nominal or ceremonial position, they have remained
in that relation down to the present. There has prevailed a
strong sense that the admission of women to the privileges of the
higher learning (as to the Eleusianin mysteries) would be
derogatory to the dignity of the learned craft. It is therefore
only very recently, and almost solely in the industrially most
advanced communities, that the higher grades of schools have been
freely opened to women. And even under the urgent circumstances
prevailing in the modern industrial communities, the highest and
most reputable universities show an extreme reluctance in making
the move. The sense of class worthiness, that is to say of
status, of a honorific differentiation of the sexes according to
a distinction between superior and inferior intellectual dignity,
survives in a vigorous form in these corporations of the
aristocracy of learning. It is felt that the woman should, in all
propriety, acquire only such knowledge as may be classed under
one or the other of two heads: (1) such knowledge as conduces
immediately to a better performance of domestic service -- the
domestic sphere; (2) such accomplishments and dexterity,
quasi-scholarly and quasi-artistic, as plainly come in under the
head of a performance of vicarious leisure. Knowledge is felt to
be unfeminine if it is knowledge which expresses the unfolding of
the learner's own life, the acquisition of which proceeds on the
learner's own cognitive interest, without prompting from the
canons of propriety, and without reference back to a master whose
comfort or good repute is to be enhanced by the employment or the
exhibition of it. So, also, all knowledge which is useful as
evidence of leisure, other than vicarious leisure, is scarcely
feminine.

For an appreciation of the relation which these higher seminaries
of learning bear to the economic life of the community, the
phenomena which have been reviewed are of importance rather as
indications of a general attitude than as being in themselves
facts of first-rate economic consequence. They go to show what is
the instinctive attitude and animus of the learned class towards
the life process of an industrial community. They serve as an
exponent of the stage of development, for the industrial purpose,
attained by the higher learning and by the learned class, and so
they afford an indication as to what may fairly be looked for
from this class at points where the learning and the life of the
class bear more immediately upon the economic life and efficiency
of the community, and upon the adjustment of its scheme of life
to the requirements of the time. What these ritualistic survivals
go to indicate is a prevalence of conservatism, if not of
reactionary sentiment, especially among the higher schools where
the conventional learning is cultivated.

To these indications of a conservative attitude is to be added
another characteristic which goes in the same direction, but
which is a symptom of graver consequence that this playful
inclination to trivialities of form and ritual. By far the
greater number of American colleges and universities, for
instance, are affiliated to some religious denomination and are
somewhat given to devout observances. Their putative familiarity
with scientific methods and the scientific point of view should
presumably exempt the faculties of these schools from animistic
habits of thought; but there is still a considerable proportion
of them who profess an attachment to the anthropomorphic beliefs
and observances of an earlier culture. These professions of
devotional zeal are, no doubt, to a good extent expedient and
perfunctory, both on the part of the schools in their corporate
capacity, and on the part of the individual members of the corps
of instructors; but it can not be doubted that there is after all
a very appreciable element of anthropomorphic sentiment present
in the higher schools. So far as this is the case it must be set
down as the expression of an archaic, animistic habit of mind.
This habit of mind must necessarily assert itself to some extent
in the instruction offered, and to this extent its influence in
shaping the habits of thought of the student makes for
conservatism and reversion; it acts to hinder his development in
the direction of matter-of-fact knowledge, such as best serves
the ends of industry.

The college sports, which have so great a vogue in the reputable
seminaries of learning today, tend in a similar direction; and,
indeed, sports have much in common with the devout attitude of
the colleges, both as regards their psychological basis and as
regards their disciplinary effect. But this expression of the
barbarian temperament is to be credited primarily to the body of
students, rather than to the temper of the schools as such;
except in so far as the colleges or the college officials -- as
sometimes happens -- actively countenance and foster the growth
of sports. The like is true of college fraternities as of college
sports, but with a difference. The latter are chiefly an
expression of the predatory impulse simply; the former are more
specifically an expression of that heritage of clannishness which
is so large a feature in the temperament of the predatory
barbarian. It is also noticeable that a close relation subsists
between the fraternities and the sporting activity of the
schools. After what has already been said in an earlier chapter
on the sporting and gambling habit, it is scarcely necessary
further to discuss the economic value of this training in sports
and in factional organization and activity.

But all these features of the scheme of life of the learned
class, and of the establishments dedicated to the conservation of
the higher learning, are in a great measure incidental only. They
are scarcely to be accounted organic elements of the professed
work of research and instruction for the ostensible pursuit of
which the schools exists. But these symptomatic indications go to
establish a presumption as to the character of the work performed
-- as seen from the economic point of view -- and as to the bent
which the serious work carried on under their auspices gives to
the youth who resort to the schools. The presumption raised by
the considerations already offered is that in their work also, as
well as in their ceremonial, the higher schools may be expected
to take a conservative position; but this presumption must be
checked by a comparison of the economic character of the work
actually performed, and by something of a survey of the learning
whose conservation is intrusted to the higher schools. On this
head, it is well known that the accredited seminaries of learning
have, until a recent date, held a conservative position. They
have taken an attitude of depreciation towards all innovations.
As a general rule a new point of view or a new formulation of
knowledge have been countenanced and taken up within the schools
only after these new things have made their way outside of the
schools. As exceptions from this rule are chiefly to be mentioned
innovations of an inconspicuous kind and departures which do not
bear in any tangible way upon the conventional point of view or
upon the conventional scheme of life; as, for instance, details
of fact in the mathematico-physical sciences, and new readings
and interpretations of the classics, especially such as have a
philological or literary bearing only. Except within the domain
of the "humanities", in the narrow sense, and except so far as
the traditional point of view of the humanities has been left
intact by the innovators, it has generally held true that the
accredited learned class and the seminaries of the higher
learning have looked askance at all innovation. New views, new
departures in scientific theory, especially in new departures
which touch the theory of human relations at any point, have
found a place in the scheme of the university tardily and by a
reluctant tolerance, rather than by a cordial welcome; and the
men who have occupied themselves with such efforts to widen the
scope of human knowledge have not commonly been well received by
their learned contemporaries. The higher schools have not
commonly given their countenance to a serious advance in the
methods or the content of knowledge until the innovations have
outlived their youth and much of their usefulness -- after they
have become commonplaces of the intellectual furniture of a new
generation which has grown up under, and has had its habits of
thought shaped by, the new, extra-scholastic body of knowledge
and the new standpoint. This is true of the recent past. How far
it may be true of the immediate present it would be hazardous to
say, for it is impossible to see present-day facts in such
perspective as to get a fair conception of their relative
proportions.

So far, nothing has been said of the Maecenas function of the
well-to-do, which is habitually dwelt on at some length by
writers and speakers who treat of the development of culture and
of social structure. This leisure-class function is not without
an important bearing on the higher and on the spread of knowledge
and culture. The manner and the degree in which the class
furthers learning through patronage of this kind is sufficiently
familiar. It has been frequently presented in affectionate and
effective terms by spokesmen whose familiarity with the topic
fits them to bring home to their hearers the profound
significance of this cultural factor. These spokesmen, however,
have presented the matter from the point of view of the cultural
interest, or of the interest of reputability, rather than from
that of the economic interest. As apprehended from the economic
point of view, and valued for the purpose of industrial
serviceability, this function of the well-to-do, as well as the
intellectual attitude of members of the well-to-do class, merits
some attention and will bear illustration.

By way of characterization of the Maecenas relation, it is to be
noted that, considered externally, as an economic or industrial
relation simply, it is a relation of status. The scholar under
the patronage performs the duties of a learned life vicariously
for his patron, to whom a certain repute inures after the manner
of the good repute imputed to a master for whom any form of
vicarious leisure is performed. It is also to be noted that, in
point of historical fact, the furtherance of learning or the
maintenance of scholarly activity through the Maecenas relation
has most commonly been a furtherance of proficiency in classical
lore or in the humanities. The knowledge tends to lower rather
than to heighten the industrial efficiency of the community.

Further, as regards the direct participation of the members of
the leisure class in the furtherance of knowledge, the canons of
reputable living act to throw such intellectual interest as seeks
expression among the class on the side of classical and formal
erudition, rather than on the side of the sciences that bear some
relation to the community's industrial life. The most frequent
excursions into other than classical fields of knowledge on the
part of members of the leisure class are made into the discipline
of law and the political, and more especially the administrative,
sciences. These so-called sciences are substantially bodies of
maxims of expediency for guidance in the leisure-class office of
government, as conducted on a proprietary basis. The interest
with which this discipline is approached is therefore not
commonly the intellectual or cognitive interest simply. It is
largely the practical interest of the exigencies of that relation
of mastery in which the members of the class are placed. In point
of derivation, the office of government is a predatory function,
pertaining integrally to the archaic leisure-class scheme of
life. It is an exercise of control and coercion over the
population from which the class draws its sustenance. This
discipline, as well as the incidents of practice which give it
its content, therefore has some attraction for the class apart
from all questions of cognition. All this holds true wherever and
so long as the governmental office continues, in form or in
substance, to be a proprietary office; and it holds true beyond
that limit, in so far as the tradition of the more archaic phase
of governmental evolution has lasted on into the later life of
those modern communities for whom proprietary government by a
leisure class is now beginning to pass away.

For that field of learning within which the cognitive or
intellectual interest is dominant -- the sciences properly so
called -- the case is somewhat different, not only as regards the
attitude of the leisure class, but as regards the whole drift of
the pecuniary culture. Knowledge for its own sake, the exercise
of the faculty of comprehensive without ulterior purpose, should,
it might be expected, be sought by men whom no urgent material
interest diverts from such a quest. The sheltered industrial
position of the leisure class should give free play to the
cognitive interest in members of this class, and we should
consequently have, as many writers confidently find that we do
have, a very large proportion of scholars, scientists, savants
derived from this class and deriving their incentive to
scientific investigation and speculation from the discipline of a
life of leisure. Some such result is to be looked for, but there
are features of the leisure-class scheme of life, already
sufficiently dwelt upon, which go to divert the intellectual
interest of this class to other subjects than that causal
sequence in phenomena which makes the content of the sciences.
The habits of thought which characterize the life of the class
run on the personal relation of dominance, and on the derivative,
invidious concepts of honor, worth, merit, character, and the
like. The casual sequence which makes up the subject matter of
science is not visible from this point of view. Neither does good
repute attach to knowledge of facts that are vulgarly useful.
Hence it should appear probable that the interest of the
invidious comparison with respect to pecuniary or other honorific
merit should occupy the attention of the leisure class, to the
neglect of the cognitive interest. Where this latter interest
asserts itself it should commonly be diverted to fields of
speculation or investigation which are reputable and futile,
rather than to the quest of scientific knowledge. Such indeed has
been the history of priestly and leisure-class learning so long
as no considerable body of systematized knowledge had been
intruded into the scholastic discipline from an extra-scholastic
source. But since the relation of mastery and subservience is
ceasing to be the dominant and formative factor in the
community's life process, other features of the life process and
other points of view are forcing themselves upon the scholars.
The true-bred gentleman of leisure should, and does, see the
world from the point of view of the personal relation; and the
cognitive interest, so far as it asserts itself in him, should
seek to systematize phenomena on this basis. Such indeed is the
case with the gentleman of the old school, in whom the
leisure-class ideals have suffered no disintegration; and such is
the attitude of his latter-day descendant, in so far as he has
fallen heir to the full complement of upper-class virtues. But
the ways of heredity are devious, and not every gentleman's son
is to the manor born. Especially is the transmission of the
habits of thought which characterize the predatory master
somewhat precarious in the case of a line of descent in which but
one or two of the latest steps have lain within the leisure-class
discipline. The chances of occurrence of a strong congenital or
acquired bent towards the exercise of the cognitive aptitudes are
apparently best in those members of the leisure class who are of
lower class or middle class antecedents -- that is to say, those
who have inherited the complement of aptitudes proper to the
industrious classes, and who owe their place in the leisure class
to the possession of qualities which count for more today than
they did in the times when the leisure-class scheme of life took
shape. But even outside the range of these later accessions to
the leisure class there are an appreciable number of individuals
in whom the invidious interest is not sufficiently dominant to
shape their theoretical views, and in whom the proclivity to
theory is sufficiently strong to lead them into the scientific
quest.

The higher learning owes the intrusion of the sciences in part to
these aberrant scions of the leisure class, who have come under
the dominant influence of the latter-day tradition of impersonal
relation and who have inherited a complement of human aptitudes
differing in certain salient features from the temperament which
is characteristic of the regime of status. But it owes the
presence of this alien body of scientific knowledge also in part,
and in a higher degree, to members of the industrious classes who
have been in sufficiently easy circumstances to turn their
attention to other interests than that of finding daily
sustenance, and whose inherited aptitudes and anthropomorphic
point of view does not dominate their intellectual processes. As
between these two groups, which approximately comprise the
effective force of scientific progress, it is the latter that has
contributed the most. And with respect to both it seems to be
true that they are not so much the source as the vehicle, or at
the most they are the instrument of commutation, by which the
habits of thought enforced upon the community, through contact
with its environment under the exigencies of modern associated
life and the mechanical industries, are turned to account for
theoretical knowledge.

Science, in the sense of an articulate recognition of causal
sequence in phenomena, whether physical or social, has been a
feature of the Western culture only since the industrial process
in the Western communities has come to be substantially a process
of mechanical contrivances in which man's office is that of
discrimination and valuation of material forces. Science has
flourished somewhat in the same degree as the industrial life of
the community has conformed to this pattern, and somewhat in the
same degree as the industrial interest has dominated the
community's life. And science, and scientific theory especially,
has made headway in the several departments of human life and
knowledge in proportion as each of these several departments has
successively come into closer contact with the industrial process
and the economic interest; or perhaps it is truer to say, in
proportion as each of them has successively escaped from the
dominance of the conceptions of personal relation or status, and
of the derivative canons of anthropomorphic fitness and honorific
worth.

It is only as the exigencies of modern industrial life have
enforced the recognition of causal sequence in the practical
contact of mankind with their environment, that men have come to
systematize the phenomena of this environment and the facts of
their own contact with it,in terms of causal sequence. So that
while the higher learning in its best development, as the perfect
flower of scholasticism and classicism, was a by-product of the
priestly office and the life of leisure, so modern science may be
said to be a by-product of the industrial process. Through these
groups of men, then -- investigators, savants, scientists,
inventors, speculators -- most of whom have done their most
telling work outside the shelter of the schools, the habits of
thought enforced by the modern industrial life have found
coherent expression and elaboration as a body of theoretical
science having to do with the causal sequence of phenomena. And
from this extra-scholastic field of scientific speculation,
changes of method and purpose have from time to time been
intruded into the scholastic discipline.

In this connection it is to be remarked that there is a very
perceptible difference of substance and purpose between the
instruction offered in the primary and secondary schools, on the
one hand, and in the higher seminaries of learning, on the other
hand. The difference in point of immediate practicality of the
information imparted and of the proficiency acquired may be of
some consequence and may merit the attention which it has from
time to time received; but there is more substantial difference
in the mental and spiritual bent which is favored by the one and
the other discipline. This divergent trend in discipline between
the higher and the lower learning is especially noticeable as
regards the primary education in its latest development in the
advanced industrial communities. Here the instruction is directed
chiefly to proficiency or dexterity, intellectual and manual, in
the apprehension and employment of impersonal facts, in their
casual rather than in their honorific incidence. It is true,
under the traditions of the earlier days, when the primary
education was also predominantly a leisure-class commodity, a
free use is still made of emulation as a spur to diligence in the
common run of primary schools; but even this use of emulation as
an expedient is visibly declining in the primary grades of
instruction in communities where the lower education is not under
the guidance of the ecclesiastical or military tradition. All
this holds true in a peculiar degree, and more especially on the
spiritual side, of such portions of the educational system as
have been immediately affected by kindergarten methods and
ideals.

The peculiarly non-invidious trend of the kindergarten
discipline, and the similar character of the kindergarten
influence in primary education beyond the limits of the
kindergarten proper, should be taken in connection with what has
already been said of the peculiar spiritual attitude of
leisure-class womankind under the circumstances of the modern
economic situation. The kindergarten discipline is at its best --
or at its farthest remove from ancient patriarchal and
pedagogical ideals -- in the advanced industrial communities,
where there is a considerable body of intelligent and idle women,
and where the system of status has somewhat abated in rigor under
the disintegrating influence of industrial life and in the
absence of a consistent body of military and ecclesiastical
traditions. It is from these women in easy circumstances that it
gets its moral support. The aims and methods of the kindergarten
commend themselves with especial effect to this class of women
who are ill at ease under the pecuniary code of reputable life.
The kindergarten, and whatever the kindergarten spirit counts for
in modern education, therefore, is to be set down, along with the
"new-woman movement," to the account of that revulsion against
futility and invidious comparison which the leisure-class life
under modern circumstances induces in the women most immediately
exposed to its discipline. In this way it appears that, by
indirection, the institution of a leisure class here again favors
the growth of a non-invidious attitude, which may, in the long
run, prove a menace to the stability of the institution itself,
and even to the institution of individual ownership on which it
rests.

During the recent past some tangible changes have taken place in
the scope of college and university teaching. These changes have
in the main consisted in a partial displacement of the humanities
-- those branches of learning which are conceived to make for the
traditional "culture", character, tastes, and ideals -- by those
more matter-of-fact branches which make for civic and industrial
efficiency. To put the same thing in other words, those branches
of knowledge which make for efficiency (ultimately productive
efficiency) have gradually been gaining ground against those
branches which make for a heightened consumption or a lowered
industrial efficiency and for a type of character suited to the
regime of status. In this adaptation of the scheme of instruction
the higher schools have commonly been found on the conservative
side; each step which they have taken in advance has been to some
extent of the nature of a concession. The sciences have been
intruded into the scholar's discipline from without, not to say
from below. It is noticeable that the humanities which have so
reluctantly yielded ground to the sciences are pretty uniformly
adapted to shape the character of the student in accordance with
a traditional self-centred scheme of consumption; a scheme of
contemplation and enjoyment of the true, the beautiful, and the
good, according to a conventional standard of propriety and
excellence, the salient feature of which is leisure -- otium cum
dignitate. In language veiled by their own habituation to the
archaic, decorous point of view, the spokesmen of the humanities
have insisted upon the ideal embodied in the maxim, fruges
consumere nati. This attitude should occasion no surprise in the
case of schools which are shaped by and rest upon a leisure-class
culture.

The professed grounds on which it has been sought, as far as
might be, to maintain the received standards and methods of
culture intact are likewise characteristic of the archaic
temperament and of the leisure-class theory of life. The
enjoyment and the bent derived from habitual contemplation of the
life, ideals, speculations, and methods of consuming time and
goods, in vogue among the leisure class of classical antiquity,
for instance, is felt to be "higher", "nobler", "worthier", than
what results in these respects from a like familiarity with the
everyday life and the knowledge and aspirations of commonplace
humanity in a modern community, that learning the content of
which is an unmitigated knowledge of latter-day men and things is
by comparison "lower", "base", "ignoble" -- one even hears the
epithet "sub-human" applied to this matter-of-fact knowledge of
mankind and of everyday life.

This contention of the leisure-class spokesmen of the
humanities seems to be substantially sound. In point of
substantial fact, the gratification and the culture, or the
spiritual attitude or habit of mind, resulting from an habitual
contemplation of the anthropomorphism, clannishness, and
leisurely self-complacency of the gentleman of an early day, or
from a familiarity with the animistic superstitions and the
exuberant truculence of the Homeric heroes, for instance, is,
aesthetically considered, more legitimate than the corresponding
results derived from a matter-of-fact knowledge of things and a
contemplation of latter-day civic or workmanlike efficiency.
There can be but little question that the first-named habits have
the advantage in respect of aesthetic or honorific value, and
therefore in respect of the "worth" which is made the basis of
award in the comparison. The content of the canons of taste, and
more particularly of the canons of honor, is in the nature of
things a resultant of the past life and circumstances of the
race, transmitted to the later generation by inheritance or by
tradition; and the fact that the protracted dominance of a
predatory, leisure-class scheme of life has profoundly shaped the
habit of mind and the point of view of the race in the past, is a
sufficient basis for an aesthetically legitimate dominance of
such a scheme of life in very much of what concerns matters of
taste in the present. For the purpose in hand, canons of taste
are race habits, acquired through a more or less protracted
habituation to the approval or disapproval of the kind of things
upon which a favorable or unfavorable judgment of taste is
passed. Other things being equal, the longer and more unbroken
the habituation, the more legitimate is the canon of taste in
question. All this seems to be even truer of judgments regarding
worth or honor than of judgments of taste generally.

But whatever may be the aesthetic legitimacy of the derogatory
judgment passed on the newer learning by the spokesmen of the
humanities, and however substantial may be the merits of the
contention that the classic lore is worthier and results in a
more truly human culture and character, it does not concern the
question in hand. The question in hand is as to how far these
branches of learning, and the point of view for which they stand
in the educational system, help or hinder an efficient collective
life under modern industrial circumstances -- how far they
further a more facile adaptation to the economic situation of
today. The question is an economic, not an aesthetic one; and the
leisure-class standards of learning which find expression in the
deprecatory attitude of the higher schools towards matter-of-fact
knowledge are, for the present purpose, to be valued from this
point of view only. For this purpose the use of such epithets as
"noble", "base", "higher", "lower", etc., is significant only as
showing the animus and the point of view of the disputants;
whether they contend for the worthiness of the new or of the old.
All these epithets are honorific or humilific terms; that is to
say, they are terms of invidious comparison, which in the last
analysis fall under the category of the reputable or the
disreputable; that is, they belong within the range of ideas that
characterizes the scheme of life of the regime of status; that
is, they are in substance an expression of sportsmanship -- of
the predatory and animistic habit of mind; that is, they indicate
an archaic point of view and theory of life, which may fit the
predatory stage of culture and of economic organization from
which they have sprung, but which are, from the point of view of
economic efficiency in the broader sense, disserviceable
anachronisms.

The classics, and their position of prerogative in the scheme of
education to which the higher seminaries of learning cling with
such a fond predilection, serve to shape the intellectual
attitude and lower the economic efficiency of the new learned
generation. They do this not only by holding up an archaic ideal
of manhood, but also by the discrimination which they inculcate
with respect to the reputable and the disreputable in knowledge.
This result is accomplished in two ways: (1) by inspiring an
habitual aversion to what is merely useful, as contrasted with
what is merely honorific in learning, and so shaping the tastes
of the novice that he comes in good faith to find gratification
of his tastes solely, or almost solely, in such exercise of the
intellect as normally results in no industrial or social gain;
and (2) by consuming the learner's time and effort in acquiring
knowledge which is of no use,except in so far as this learning
has by convention become incorporated into the sum of learning
required of the scholar, and has thereby affected the terminology
and diction employed in the useful branches of knowledge. Except
for this terminological difficulty -- which is itself a
consequence of the vogue of the classics of the past -- a
knowledge of the ancient languages, for instance, would have no
practical bearing for any scientist or any scholar not engaged on
work primarily of a linguistic character. Of course, all this has
nothing to say as to the cultural value of the classics, nor is
there any intention to disparage the discipline of the classics
or the bent which their study gives to the student. That bent
seems to be of an economically disserviceable kind, but this fact
-- somewhat notorious indeed -- need disturb no one who has the
good fortune to find comfort and strength in the classical lore.
The fact that classical learning acts to derange the learner's
workmanlike attitudes should fall lightly upon the apprehension
of those who hold workmanship of small account in comparison with
the cultivation of decorous ideals:  Iam fides et pax et honos
pudorque Priscus et neglecta redire virtus Audet.

Owing to the circumstance that this knowledge has become part of
the elementary requirements in our system of education, the
ability to use and to understand certain of the dead languages of
southern Europe is not only gratifying to the person who finds
occasion to parade his accomplishments in this respect, but the
evidence of such knowledge serves at the same time to recommend
any savant to his audience, both lay and learned. It is currently
expected that a certain number of years shall have been spent in
acquiring this substantially useless information, and its absence
creates a presumption of hasty and precarious learning, as well
as of a vulgar practicality that is equally obnoxious to the
conventional standards of sound scholarship and intellectual
force.

The case is analogous to what happens in the purchase of any
article of consumption by a purchaser who is not an expert judge
of materials or of workmanship. He makes his estimate of value of
the article chiefly on the ground of the apparent expensiveness
of the finish of those decorative parts and features which have
no immediate relation to the intrinsic usefulness of the article;
the presumption being that some sort of ill-defined proportion
subsists between the substantial value of an article and the
expense of adornment added in order to sell it. The presumption
that there can ordinarily be no sound scholarship where a
knowledge of the classics and humanities is wanting leads to a
conspicuous waste of time and labor on the part of the general
body of students in acquiring such knowledge. The conventional
insistence on a modicum of conspicuous waste as an incident of
all reputable scholarship has affected our canons of taste and of
serviceability in matters of scholarship in much the same way as
the same principle has influenced our judgment of the
serviceability of manufactured goods.

It is true, since conspicuous consumption has gained more and
more on conspicuous leisure as a means of repute, the
acquisition of the dead languages is no longer so imperative a
requirement as it once was, and its talismanic virtue as a
voucher of scholarship has suffered a concomitant impairment. But
while this is true, it is also true that the classics have
scarcely lost in absolute value as a voucher of scholastic
respectability, since for this purpose it is only necessary that
the scholar should be able to put in evidence some learning which
is conventionally recognized as evidence of wasted time; and the
classics lend themselves with great facility to this use. Indeed,
there can be little doubt that it is their utility as evidence of
wasted time and effort, and hence of the pecuniary strength
necessary in order to afford this waste, that has secured to the
classics their position of prerogative in the scheme of higher
learning, and has led to their being esteemed the most honorific
of all learning. They serve the decorative ends of leisure-class
learning better than any other body of knowledge, and hence they
are an effective means of reputability.

In this respect the classics have until lately had scarcely a
rival. They still have no dangerous rival on the continent of
Europe, but lately, since college athletics have won their way
into a recognized standing as an accredited field of scholarly
accomplishment, this latter branch of learning -- if athletics
may be freely classed as learning -- has become a rival of the
classics for the primacy in leisure-class education in American
and English schools. Athletics have an obvious advantage over the
classics for the purpose of leisure-class learning, since success
as an athlete presumes, not only waste of time, but also waste of
money, as well as the possession of certain highly unindustrial
archaic traits of character and temperament. In the German
universities the place of athletics and Greek-letter
fraternities, as a leisure-class scholarly occupation, has in
some measure been supplied by a skilled and graded inebriety and
a perfunctory duelling.

The leisure class and its standard of virtue -- archaism and
waste -- can scarcely have been concerned in the introduction of
the classics into the scheme of the higher learning; but the
tenacious retention of the classics by the higher schools, and
the high degree of reputability which still attaches to them, are
no doubt due to their conforming so closely to the requirements
of archaism and waste.

"Classic" always carries this connotation of wasteful and
archaic, whether it is used to denote the dead languages or the
obsolete or obsolescent forms of thought and diction in the
living language, or to denote other items of scholarly activity
or apparatus to which it is applied with less aptness. So the
archaic idiom of the English language is spoken of as "classic"
English. Its use is imperative in all speaking and writing upon
serious topics, and a facile use of it lends dignity to even the
most commonplace and trivial string of talk. The newest form of
English diction is of course never written; the sense of that
leisure-class propriety which requires archaism in speech is
present even in the most illiterate or sensational writers in
sufficient force to prevent such a lapse. On the other hand, the
highest and most conventionalized style of archaic diction is --
quite characteristically -- properly employed only in
communications between an anthropomorphic divinity and his
subjects. Midway between these extremes lies the everyday speech
of leisure-class conversation and literature.

Elegant diction, whether in writing or speaking, is an effective
means of reputability. It is of moment to know with some
precision what is the degree of archaism conventionally required
in speaking on any given topic. Usage differs appreciably from
the pulpit to the market-place; the latter, as might be expected,
admits the use of relatively new and effective words and turns of
expression, even by fastidious persons. A discriminative
avoidance of neologisms is honorific, not only because it argues
that time has been wasted in acquiring the obsolescent habit of
speech, but also as showing that the speaker has from infancy
habitually associated with persons who have been familiar with
the obsolescent idiom. It thereby goes to show his leisure-class
antecedents. Great purity of speech is presumptive evidence of
several lives spent in other than vulgarly useful occupations;
although its evidence is by no means entirely conclusive to this
point.

As felicitous an instance of futile classicism as can well be
found, outside of the Far East, is the conventional spelling of
the English language. A breach of the proprieties in spelling is
extremely annoying and will discredit any writer in the eyes of
all persons who are possessed of a developed sense of the true
and beautiful. English orthography satisfies all the requirements
of the canons of reputability under the law of conspicuous waste.
It is archaic, cumbrous, and ineffective; its acquisition
consumes much time and effort; failure to acquire it is easy of
detection. Therefore it is the first and readiest test of
reputability in learning, and conformity to its ritual is
indispensable to a blameless scholastic life.

On this head of purity of speech, as at other points where a
conventional usage rests on the canons of archaism and waste, the
spokesmen for the usage instinctively take an apologetic
attitude. It is contended, in substance, that a punctilious use
of ancient and accredited locutions will serve to convey thought
more adequately and more precisely than would be the
straightforward use of the latest form of spoken English; whereas
it is notorious that the ideas of today are effectively expressed
in the slang of today. Classic speech has the honorific virtue of
dignity; it commands attention and respect as being the
accredited method of communication under the leisure-class scheme
of life, because it carries a pointed suggestion of the
industrial exemption of the speaker. The advantage of the
accredited locutions lies in their reputability; they are
reputable because they are cumbrous and out of date, and
therefore argue waste of time and exemption from the use and the
need of direct and forcible speech.





End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of The Theory of the Leisure Class