Private Fortunes and the Public Future


WE have been hearing a good deal during recent months regarding the virtues and the defects of 'rugged individualism,' so called, and 'private initiative,' so called. The champions of both are apparently unaware of the fact that in a country which has written constitutions, courts, and majority rule neither 'rugged individualism' nor 'private initiative' flourishes uncontrolled to greater or lesser extent by public interest. To take a single instance, the 'rugged individualists' apparently forget that the Interstate Commerce Law, passed in the Cleveland Administration and subsequently modified and enlarged, has made the existence of another Jay Gould an absolute impossibility, just as believers in private initiative forget the outrageous abuses which led to the enactment of the law. Similarly, believers in private initiative may fail to remember that state and municipal governments have set up standards in health, industry, education, and other fields, to which individuals must conform. On the one hand, uncontrolled individualism is an anachronism; on the other hand, private beneficence still has large scope.

Inasmuch as, at the present time, regulation by the central government at Washington and the prevention of abuse by the central government at Washington have become so prominent, it is perhaps worth while to point out some of the things that have been accomplished by private initiative as well as some of the things which we cannot in America here and now accomplish by extreme centralization of power. The outcome, as I see it, under our present economic system, is certainly for a long time to come a middle path which will allow and encourage opportunity for individual development and expression and yet prevent abuses which grow up unless somewhere there resides the power to expose and to check greed or folly.

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Let me begin by giving an example of something that has been accomplished by wise, devoted, and farsighted individuals in their capacity as private citizens, which would probably never have been done by a central government itself and for the achievement of which the particular individuals in question could not have been drafted by governmental agencies.

Quite recently a large assembly gathered in the City of New York to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of the Montefiore Hospital for Chronic Diseases. This institution was established fifty years ago by a group of devoted and grateful men and women and by them dedicated to the relief of suffering humanity. It took its name from a wise and great philanthropist whose whole life had been devoted to human welfare. The institution began inconspicuously in a small house with accommodations for some twenty-odd chronic patients. In the half century since it was established it has so grown that it is now no longer a home for hopeless incurables but a hospital to which chronic sufferers are sent in the hope and expectation that they will receive either relief or cure. From its small and inconspicuous beginning it has come to be the largest hospital in the world for the care, treatment, and study of chronic diseases. Its patients are no longer merely bedridden men and women, but human beings chronically but by no means all hopelessly ill, ranging in age from two or three up to ninety or even higher. It contains laboratories for the study of chronic diseases directed by one of the most distinguished experimental pathologists in this country. Its medical and surgical services are under the most expert direction obtainable in Greater New York. From the score of beds in the little house in which it began, it has expanded until it now cares for upwards of one thousand patients in comfort. Attached to it is a school for the younger patients, and in the country a convalescent home to which those who have been measurably benefited may be sent for further convalescence.

Montefiore Hospital is a costly undertaking. Its costs are high, not only in respect to money, but in respect to devotion and interest. The money, the devotion, the interest, come from those who are grateful for their own good fortune in life or who wish to perpetuate the memory of friends and relatives who have passed away. Its current conduct is in the hands of unremunerated men and women who seek nothing for themselves, not even prominence or thanks, who desire nothing more than the satisfaction of consecrating as much of their time and energy and thought and means as possible to the realization of a beneficent purpose.

This institution is only one of hundreds — hospitals, schools, universities, museums, orchestras, and various associations — which relieve the state of part of its burden, and which, I venture to say, as a general rule carry on more economically and more effectively than similar institutions which are managed by public authorities. I do not say this in criticism of the work of public authorities; but it is obvious that, if public authority is burdened by the mass of its responsibilities, in consequence of the mere mass of responsibilities more or less red tape must be employed, and that the diversion of responsibility into private hands not only relieves the state but tends to establish ideals which are stimulating to those entrusted with public responsibility. Centralization of some kind is in a country like ours, and indeed in every modern country, inevitable, indispensable, and desirable; but if one studies the history of higher education or philanthropies in the United States one observes that almost invariably the standards were set, in the first place, by institutions under private control, and that when these institutions have proved what is feasible the task of public authorities in establishing and enforcing these standards everywhere has been made enormously easier. On the other hand, both the state and the private organizations can do and have done much to expose and remedy abuses in industry and philanthropy, so called.

I cannot within the limits of this paper enumerate the institutions privately endowed, supported, and managed which have long played and still play a leading role in American philanthropy and American education, but I can perhaps bring the point home to my readers if I specify Harvard, Yale, Columbia, the University of Chicago, Princeton, the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the American Museum of Natural History, the Huntington Library and Art Gallery, the Philadelphia Museum, the Philharmonic Symphony Society, great hospitals like the Johns Hopkins, the Peter Bent Brigham, Mount Sinai, the Presbyterian, the New York, and the Michael Reese, the adult education movement, and similar institutions and activities situated, managed, and privately maintained in every city and in every state of the Union. I do not for a moment forget that the nation, the several states, and cities have made and are making splendid contributions to philanthropy and education; I wish only to call attention to the fact that we in America cannot afford to overlook the important roIe played by voluntary effort in setting up higher standards in education, in public health, in the practice of medicine, in the development of art, and in social welfare by institutions which would probably never have existed but for private initiative and voluntary effort.

We happen to be living in an era when, in consequence of human gullibility and fallibility, the world has been overtaken by panic and distress such as private initiative alone cannot cope with. To an extent that could previously never have been expected the cities, the states, and the central government have been compelled to undertake to provide relief where voluntary agencies have been unequal to the task. I have no criticism to make on this score. It is a splendid and inspiring thing that at a time of great social crisis the American nation has found itself possessed of a form of government which can relieve the poor, clothe the naked, and provide support for the unemployed; but at this very moment when the government is doing all that it can humanly do in these various directions it behooves us to remember the essence of our tradition of private effort and benefaction. There is not a country in the world that does not envy us the spirit which led the first settlers of New England to found Harvard College on their own initiative, and which from that day to this has led to the creation and support of one great institution after another devoted to the cultivation of science and art or to the pursuit of some form of organized philanthropy. The energy and devotion which have for three hundred years been applied to private philanthropy are, under our American system of government, largely unavailable for public life. The men and women who quietly and unostentatiously have built up the institutions which I have named have no relish for the rough-and-tumble of public life under democratic conditions. Shall this courage and this devotion still find an adequate means of expression, or shall they be allowed to run largely to waste as they do run to waste in so many countries in the Old World?


Let me give a concrete example of the way in which, in this country, private initiative not only has performed enormous social service, but has enabled government itself to incorporate social service thus achieved in the very substance of our body politic. There was in America, in 1890, no medical school which could by any possibility be compared with the leading medical faculties of the Germany of that date and subsequently. There were, however, in this country and in Canada, one hundred and fifty-five medical schools, almost all of them totally without the facilities or the ideals which at the same period prevailed in Germany. These were mainly private undertakings uncontrolled by law or public opinion — a fine example of one sort of thing that uncontrolled private institutions may do. Sporadic efforts had been made during the previous half century in various places and by various organizations to effect radical improvements in medical education. Viewed in the light of what has been accomplished since 1890, these sporadic efforts accomplished very little indeed. But about 1890 an epoch-making event took place. With funds provided by a simple, farseeing Baltimore merchant, the Johns Hopkins Medical School and the Johns Hopkins Hospital were established as integral parts of a university, itself the first of its kind in this country. Private initiative did something in Baltimore at that time that neither the central federal government nor a state government nor a municipal government could possibly have accomplished then or now. Private initiative, furnished with funds by a great benefactor, set up out of hand a hospital and a medical school, to the faculty and staff of which the best-trained men obtainable in the whole world were called, neither local pull nor local influence playing the slightest part: Dr. Welch, who had been trained in Breslau and Strassburg; Dr. Osler, who had been trained in the great London hospitals, in Paris, and in Germany; Dr. Halsted, who had been trained in Switzerland and in Germany; Dr. Kelly, who had been trained in Germany; Dr. Mall, Dr. Abel, Dr. Howell, and others who brought to this country from abroad ideals up to that time unknown. Modestly and inconspicuously, they gathered about themselves a small group of disciples eager to develop scientific medicine. Many of the students of that era are now themselves occupied in the conduct of great scientific enterprises in medicine. The example set in Baltimore spread like an epidemic. The men trained in Baltimore were medical missionaries who carried into our great universities new ideals of medical teaching, medical research, and hospital organization.

Within fifteen years or less a distinct cleft appeared; there were on the one side institutions struggling to reproduce the spirit and the effort characteristic of the Johns Hopkins Medical School, and there were on the other side institutions upon which this spirit had made no impression. But soon professional as well as public opinion began to be interested. The eyes of state legislators were opened. Instead of the low standards under which it had previously been possible for both private initiative and state universities to conduct medical education and medical practice, a concerted effort was suddenly made which almost in the twinkling of an eye transformed both; the schools that had learned little or nothing began to shrivel and die away. The states which had formerly licensed illiterates, who had merely listened to didactic lectures, now began to limit the practice of medicine to those who had been properly prepared and properly trained. Within a decade our one hundred and fifty-five medical schools shrank to little more than fifty, and the total resources applied to the conduct of medical schools and hospitals increased from a relatively insignificant sum to hundreds of millions. All this was, in the first place, the result of private effort, private initiative, and private gifts. One individual alone contributed fifty millions of dollars to the general cause of improving medical education and perhaps as much to the creation of an institution for medical research.

A new ideal had been created and realized in Baltimore. It was at first voluntarily taken over in Boston, in New York, in Philadelphia, in Chicago, in St. Louis, in Nashville, in Rochester, and elsewhere. At length the universities maintained by the states realized that they must participate in this same movement. Something very substantial had already been accomplished, to be sure, in Michigan and in Wisconsin under the leadership of a Johns Hopkins graduate, but there was no general movement on the part of the state universities beyond the necessary elevation of the standards of medical practice until in 1922 — only thirteen years ago — the State of Iowa, whose medical school had up to that time been practically worthless, joined a private foundation in raising $5,000,000 for the building of an entirely new medical school and hospital and increased the state support of the medical school and hospital from something like $50,000 a year to a sum exceeding $1,000,000 a year. It was private effort and private money and private devotion and private initiative that in this instance set the pace, and it is this same private effort and private initiative and private devotion and private means that have created, maintained, and elevated the other institutions I have mentioned.

But the story I have just told is something more than a story of private beneficence, for it was, as I have pointed out in passing, unrestrained and unregulated private effort that led to the outrageous conditions which private effort so largely corrected. How did private effort correct its own excesses and abuses? It corrected them by setting an example, by stimulating emulation, and then by governmental action on the part of the several states which incorporated in statutory form standards of efficiency that had been worked out largely by private institutions after the abuses of unrestrained and uncontrolled private institutions had been mercilessly exposed. In reference, therefore, to private beneficence and philanthropy itself, government has a very distinct service to perform, for, as social standards are elevated and refined, laws can be made arid must be made which will place behind the highest types of effort the authority of the state. Our federal form of government fosters emulation and initiative. Thus private effort and public effort are in no wise incompatible. There is no inconsistency between the existence of institutions under private initiative, support, and control and the existence of publicly maintained institutions of the same character and of equal quality. On the contrary, state and private efforts are complementary. Unless private means continue to exist, the role hitherto played in our history by private enterprise in education, in art, and in philanthropy is doomed to shrink in importance and perhaps ultimately to disappear.


A closely parallel example also can be cited. As long ago as 1865, Matthew Arnold — and later others in their capacity of private individuals, though Arnold held office as a school inspector — began a devastating criticism of secondary education in England. Little of a fundamental nature was accomplished by either private or governmental agencies between 1865 and 1895, when Robert (later Sir Robert) Morant entered the Board of Education, as it was then constituted. Morant, who was one of the really great British civil servants, thereupon began an exhaustive and detailed study of the chaotic conditions prevailing in elementary and secondary education in Great Britain. He was a man of the highest ideals and enormous driving power. It is no secret that the revolution in English education which took place between 1895 and 1902, in the face of terrific opposition from both dissenters and churchmen, was due to the skillful parliamentary management of Mr. Balfour, who relied absolutely upon Morant for, the details and the strategy which he evolved in presenting a bill, that transformed elementary and secondary education in Great Britain. In this instance we witness a movement started by private individuals and then taken up by a democratic government which placed all its power behind a far-reaching educational reorganization. To-day elementary and secondary education in Great Britain is admirably conducted by both voluntary and governmental agencies, inspected, supervised, and in part financially sustained by the general government. It would probably be impossible to find a better example of the successful outcome of cooperation between private individuals and government than is exemplified in the great educational reform which will always be associated with the name of Sir Robert Morant and which may well prove to be the most lasting achievement of Mr. Balfour in the sphere of statesmanship.

It is therefore a mistake to view private effort and governmental regulation as opposed to one another. Results are happiest when the two work together, when tolerance, education, and honest publicity prevail. What law can accomplish depends in large measure upon the state of public opinion, which in its turn is very largely the product of individual and cooperative effort. If, for example, law by itself could have enforced conditions against which public opinion ran, the South would have been reconstructed after the Civil War according to the ideas of Thaddeus Stevens. As a matter of fact, after some ten or fifteen years of effort to accomplish by law a result which ran against public opinion in the South, President Hayes withdrew the Federal troops from the states which had been in rebellion, and ever since they have done as they pleased. I should suppose there is no doubt in the mind of any human being that the relations between the two sections of the Union would even to-day be far better and the South would have been far more highly developed if the more generous and magnanimous policy of Lincoln and Johnson had been followed immediately after the close of the Civil War. So, in our own recent experience, no one questions the importance of temperance, and a minority has always believed in the efficacy of prohibition; but there is little doubt that the most disastrous attack upon both temperance and prohibition was made by the passage of the Eighteenth Amendment.

A democratic government is self-governmental in an extreme sense. Men engaged in business must make it absolutely impossible for others similarly engaged to indulge in practices that lower the tone of social life; otherwise government will intervene and it will not be deterred by asseverating that intervention will make matters worse — witness the situation in respect to child labor, public utilities, holding companies, and so forth. When ideals have, however, been established by those who have character, intelligence, ability, and public spirit, they can to a varying extent be incorporated in the law, but our main reliance ought in the first instance to be upon the quality of the individual, and we should be able largely to leave to him the means by which he can carry forward, as only groups of congenial and devoted men can locally carry forward, the pace-setting enterprises upon which the level of civilization actually depends. But let us not forget that one Kreuger may do more damage than a thousand honorable men can offset.

There is, however, another aspect in which private beneficence and governmental action become curiously intertwined. Surveying not only remote but recent history, one finds instances where something like private rapacity has cloaked itself under a philanthropic garb. I need not say that I am no apologist for the unsocial or antisocial acquisition of wealth, for sweatshops, child labor, the twelve-hour law, the seven-day week, or any other device which men have at one time or another believed to be necessary to the maintenance of a given industry. Indeed, an industry which needs such conditions for its maintenance had far better be allowed to perish.

A conspicuous example of the abuse of private power under the guise of rendering a public service is furnished by the so-called Duke Foundation. The Duke Foundation supports the Duke Endowment, the income of which goes to maintain education and public health in certain of the Southern States; the Doris Duke Trust, the income of which goes to an individual; and certain other beneficiaries. In 1933 the Duke Power Company paid out in dividends about four millions of dollars. Of this sum less than half a million went to the philanthropic purposes of the Duke Foundation, a little more than half a million went to the beneficiary of the Doris Duke Trust, and something upwards of three millions went to other persons or institutions. Under the present administration the local authorities of Greenwood County in South Carolina asked the Public Works Administration for a loan of approximately three million dollars with which to construct a power plant. This loan is opposed by the Duke Power Company on the ground that the income of the Power Company would be reduced and its benefactions would be largely effaced. No mention, however, so I am told, has been made of several important facts: —

1. That over 80 per cent of the new power would be sold to consumers who are not now served by the Duke Power Company.

2. That the total loss of business by the Duke Power Company would probably not exceed one third of 1 per cent of the business now clone by that company.

3. That the philanthropic contribution of the Duke Endowment is only about one third of the income derived from the Duke Power Company.

The private beneficence of the Duke Power Company is therefore hardly comparable to the good that might be accomplished if the citizens of Greenwood County of South Carolina were enabled to own and operate their own power company.


Civilization is forever on the horns of a dilemma. On the one hand, its very existence seems to be impossible without the existence somewhere in society of both abundance and leisure. On the other hand, through the whole history of the human race it is obvious that abundance and leisure have often been purchased at too high a price. Feudalism produced much that is absolutely invaluable in the history of human culture. As it happened, too little was known of public health and all other pertinent matters to procure widespread material welfare during the feudal era, but it is none the less a fact that the price paid by human beings for the beautiful things which we owe to the feudal system was far higher than most persons at present realize. Within the lifetime of many still living there existed similarly abundance and leisure and a charming type of civilized life in our own Southern States; but the country decided, rightly as all now believe, that slavery was far too high a price to pay for it. Slavery was abolished, and a particular type of culture and a particular way of living came to a sudden and total end. A not dissimilar problem faces us to-day. We value civilization and culture. We realize, as I have argued, that they cannot be obtained unless abundance and leisure exist. There are dangers on both sides of the road that we travel, as there are always ditches on both sides of every road. The middle road approved by the Greek philosophers is perhaps our safest and surest path. Complete governmental control involves the dangers of repression, red tape, partisanship, and these dangers become greater as the area of a country enlarges — witness Russia, Germany, Italy. On the other hand, uncontrolled private initiative has developed abuses that are absolutely incompatible with a high social and moral sense. At the moment it is important to this country to emphasize the fact that the role of private effort has not been exhausted and that, unless we are to abandon all our traditions in government, in philanthropy, and in education, it cannot be abandoned. While, therefore, I do not lose sight of the efforts made by municipal, state, and federal governments to improve our social life, I cannot forget the vast debt that we owe and must be enabled to continue to owe to those thousands and hundreds of thousands who have contributed small means as well as large to building up institutions of learning, museums, and hospitals which represent the high-water mark of our civilization.

These facts bear directly on the plausible and, I suspect, largely fallacious schemes for abolishing poverty and sharing wealth through sudden and drastic use of the power of taxation. The institutions which are indispensable to higher education and philanthropy rely largely on the benefactions of private individuals; if these are stripped of the results of honest accumulations by taxation, death duties, inheritance taxes, and so forth, where are Harvard and Yale and Princeton to procure the funds needed for their development?

I am not arguing in favor of 'malefactors of great wealth'; I am merely calling attention to a point of central importance, no mention of which I happen to have noticed: that, if sadden and revolutionary measures are to be taken, somehow leeway must be left so that the main agencies of education and civilization are not hamstrung where they now are. For civilization and education are both expensive and capricious. While the efficiency of city, state, and national government has probably improved, local interests and lobbies have also become more and more formidable. In a vast and diverse nation, the highest interests — social or intellectual — cannot safely be left either to government alone or to private agencies alone. Abuse must as far as possible be prevented at any cost; surely all that is humanly possible in this direction can be done without making it impossible for a future Johns Hopkins to enlarge or establish a future Johns Hopkins University! And the need, present and future, of increased endowments, managed, let us hope, with ever-increasing wisdom and devotion, is not likely to diminish in any future that can be foreseen by persons familiar with the activities and influences at work in the various states from Maine to California, from Wisconsin to Louisiana. As long as 'human integration is not complete' — I am quoting the words of Sir Henry Head society is likely to do best if various outlets and methods of expression and criticism are left open.

I should perhaps, in this connection, say a word about social and economic planning. It is obvious that in these days science, investigation, and industry cannot be allowed to run wild. The era of laissez faire, long since more and more modified, is forever closed. But let us do it justice. In a recent paper, Professor Wesley Mitchell writes as follows: —

After all detractions are made, the historical fact remains that, in the countries which have given wide scope to private initiative since Adam Smith presented his momentous argument for laissez faire, the masses of mankind attained a higher degree of material comfort and a larger measure of liberty than at any earlier time of which we have knowledge, or under any other form of organization which mankind has tried out in practice. These blessings of relative abundance and freedom arise from the rapid application of scientific discoveries to the humdrum work of the world, and that application has been effected mainly by men who were seeking profits. In societies organized on the basis of making money, laissez faire put the stupendous drive of private gain behind the industrial revolution. Further, the capital required for building machines, factories, railroads, steamships, electrical equipment, and the like, was accumulated mainly from profits made by business men and investors and used, not to satisfy their own wants, but to provide new equipment for production. As Adam Smith argued, in pursuing their private gain business-men were led to promote the public welfare.

Those who speak in general terms of social and economic planning seem to me in danger of forgetting how easily their calculations may be upset by scientific genius or by invention, not primarily driven by the profit motive, though often resulting in considerable fortunes — and also by the emergence of exceptional men. Planning might conceivably have been proposed in, let us say, the year 1910. How would it have been possible to bring together at that time a group of men, assuming that the wisest, most unselfish, and most farseeing could have been assembled under governmental authority, — itself an unwarranted and very improbable assumption, — how would it have been possible, I ask, to bring together in 1910 a group competent to devise any kind of plan that would not have become an almost insuperable hindrance long before the year 1935? Mr. H. A. L. Fisher calls attention to the 'play of the contingent and the unforeseen' in the 'development of human destinies.' To an extent greater than perhaps we realize, society lives from hand to mouth. In the field of ideas alone do we partially transcend improvisation, but even within the field of ideas our foresight has been greatly limited by the progress of science and by the development of high social ideals. The planner must deal with unknown contingencies at home and abroad, with future discoveries, with fallible as well as ideal human beings.

Mr. E. L. Woodward, in a recent and most illuminating book entitled French Revolutions, points out that what one learns from history is not 'lessons' but 'wisdom.' There are wise ways in which to deal with the problems, mostly unpredictable, which emerge from time to time, often with startling and unexpected suddenness and rapidity. It is not without significance that no Caesar or Napoleon has ever founded a government which lasted beyond his own lifetime. The Mussolinis, the Stalins, the Hitlers, find themselves compelled to suppress everything that America values most highly in order temporarily to accomplish their ends. How substantial and valuable these ends may be no one can now foretell, though there are many who would be willing to risk their reputation as prophets on the outcome. Within the last ten years there have been moments when democracies, all more or less inefficient, were thought to have had their day. I venture to believe that the autocracies created within the last few years have made the world safer for democracy than it ever was before. But democracy implies a sort of easygoing form of government which gives abundant elbowroom for tolerance, agitation, and individual effort as well as for action on the part of the state. There is a vast amount that we now know which can be put into effect partly by state and partly by private organization and initiative, but there are untold developments which neither a democracy nor an autocracy can foresee and for which there must be leeway in every modern state.

As far as our own history and the history of England prove anything, they show that institutions under private management are more apt to be immediately responsive to pressure and publicity than institutions which are governed by legislatures. To be sure, institutions under private management, such as universities, are not immune from failure or folly. Our own universities, for example, have wasted money and energy, but they have simultaneously attained the highest possible level in the search for truth and in devotion to the public good. Any governmental or economic policy which cuts short their development by destroying private wealth will in the long run cost civilization more than it can possibly achieve in any other direction.

The truth would seem to be that, on the one hand, the area of governmental activity, control, and inspection has largely grown with the increasing complexity of social and economic life, and is doubtless destined still further to increase; it is limited by the difficulties inherent in democratic and all other forms of government. The difficulties may be generally grouped under such terms as 'politics,' 'bureaucracy,' and 'internal friction.' Simultaneously, however, the area open to private initiative and benefaction has been similarly enlarged. As men become more civilized and more sensitive, there are always activities, interests, and duties which as individuals and in groups they will be increasingly eager to discharge in their own way. It might even be maintained that the level of a given civilization can perhaps be measured by the extent of private initiative, private responsibility, private organization in all the fields open to human culture.

If this or something like it be true, economic equalitarianism or anything approaching it, even if obtainable, might well be just as fatal to the highest interests of society as would be the suppression of individual effort through the needless and uncritical expansion of centralized governmental activities. Lord Haldane once remarked to the writer, 'In human affairs nothing is ever good or bad except in the balance.' These words may be applied to the current controversies between those who favor governmental action and those who favor private initiative. It is not necessary to be logical or consistent. Every case can be weighed on its merits. There are certain fundamental considerations that ought not in any event to be disregarded. Governments are apt to be open to political influence, and in a country like America all problems — private and public — are in danger of being too big. Justice Brandeis has rightly insisted that bigness taken by itself is really a curse. On the other hand, private beneficence may be the outgrowth of absolutely unsocial and unworthy activities pursued over a long space of time. Public opinion and governmental authorities have got in the last instance to judge whether individuals shall be allowed to pursue certain courses of activity which may result in the piling up of fortunes which may or may not be ultimately devoted in whole or in part to philanthropic enterprise. The accumulation of fortunes through foresight, unusual capacity, energy, thrift, and native honorable shrewdness is in itself no crime. On the contrary, as I have shown above, fortunes so accumulated may be made the sources from which great philanthropic, cultural, and beneficent enterprises ultimately flow, though at the same time one must beware of the practices that cost the community more than they return.