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