when we come to see them face to face.

II. ON LUXURY.

An eminent lawyer of my acquaintance had a Socratic habit of interrupting
the conversation by saying, "Let us understand one another: when you say
so-and-so, do you mean so-and-so, or something quite different?" Now,
although it is intolerable that the natural flow of social intercourse
should be thus impeded, yet in writing a paper to be laid before a
learned and fastidious society one is bound to let one's hearers a little
into the secret, and to state fairly what the subject of the essay really
is. I suppose we shall all admit that bad luxury is bad, and good luxury
is good, unless the phrase good luxury is a contradiction in terms. We
must try to avoid disputing about words. The word luxury, according to
its derivation, signifies an extravagant and outrageous indulgence of the
appetites or desires. If we take this as the meaning of the word, we
shall agree that luxury is bad; but if we take luxury to be only another
name for the refinements of civilization, we shall all approve of it. But
the real and substantial question is not what the word means, but, what
is that thing which we all agree is bad or good; where does the bad begin
and the good end; how are we to discern the difference; and how are we to
avoid the one and embrace the other. In this essay, therefore, I intend
to use the word luxury to denote that indulgence which interferes with
the full and proper exercise of all the faculties, powers, tastes, and
whatever is good and worthy in a man. Enjoyments, relaxations, delights,
indulgences which are beneficial, I do not denominate "luxury." All
indulgences which fit us for our duties are good; all which tend to unfit
us for them are bad; and these latter I call luxuries. Some one will
say, perhaps, that some indulgences are merely indifferent, and produce
no appreciable effect upon body or mind; and it might be enough to
dismiss such things with the maxim, "_de minimis non curat lex_." But
the doctrine is dangerous, and I doubt if anything in this world is
absolutely immaterial. De Quincey mentions the case of a man who
committed a murder, which at the time he thought little about, but he was
led on from that to gambling and Sabbath breaking. Probably in this
weary world any indulgence or pleasure which is not bad is not
indifferent, but absolutely good. The world is not so bright, so
comfortable, so pleasant, that we can afford to