of the Greeks, who deemed it vulgar and barbaric to spend money lavishly on self. The compunctions of the rich are indicated, on the one hand, by generous donations made to all sorts of causes, and on the other hand, by the arguments which are now thought necessary to justify the selfish use of money. These arguments we may cursorily discuss.

(1) A clever writer in a recent magazine1 speaks of "factitious altruism"; with this "altruism of the Procrusteans" - who would reduce every one to the simple life - she has "little patience." "Thousands of people seem to be infected with the idea that by doing more themselves they bestow leisure on others; that by wearing shabby clothes they somehow make it possible for others to dress better — though they thus admit tacitly that leisure and elegance are not evil things. Or perhaps though Heaven forbid they should be right!- they merely think that by refusing nightingales' tongues they make every one more content with porridge. Let us be gallant about the porridge that we must eat; but let us never forget that there are better things to eat than porridge."

This philosophy, less gracefully expressed, is not uncommon. Luxury is, other things equal, better than simplicity. But other things are not equal when our neighbors are cold and sick and hungry. What self-respecting man can eat "caviare on principle" when another has not even bread? By wearing plainer clothes we can make it possible for others to dress better, by denying ourselves nightingales' tongues we can buy porridge for the poor. It surely betokens a low moral stage of civilization that so many, nevertheless, choose the Paquin gowns and the six-course dinners.

Luxury is better than simplicity if it can be the luxury of all. If not, it means selfishness, callousness, and broken bonds of brotherhood. Moreover, it has personal dangers;

1 Katherine Fullerton Gerould, in the Atlantic Monthly, vol. 109, p. 135.

it tends to breed softness and laziness, an inability to endure hardship, what Agnes Repplier calls "loss of nerve." It tends to choke the soul, to crush it by the weight of worldly things, as Tarpeia was crushed by the Sabine shields. "Hardly can a rich man enter the kingdom of heaven." Simple living, with occasional luxuries, far more appreciated for their rarity, is healthier and safer, and in the end perhaps as happy. Certainly the luxury of the upper classes has usually portended the downfall of nations. "It is luxury which upholds states?" asks Laveleye; "yes, just as the executioner upholds the hanged man.'

"Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey,

Where wealth accumulates and men decay."

(2) There is a patrician illusion prevalent among the rich, to the effect that they are more sensitive than the poor, have higher natures which demand more to satisfy them; that the lower classes do not need and would not appreciate the luxuries which are necessary to their existence. To this the reply is, "Go and get acquainted with them; you will find that they are just the same sort of people that you and your friends are"-not so educated, very likely, nor so refined of speech and manner, but with the same longings and capacities for enjoyment. Of course, they become used to discomfort and deprivation, seared by suffering; so would you in their place. Human nature has a fortunate ability to adjust itself to its environment. But even if the poor do not realize what they are missing, that is scant excuse for not bringing to them, as we can, new comforts and opportunities.

(3) The commonest fallacy lies in the argument that by lavish consumption the rich provide employment for the poor. They provide employment, yes, in serving them. They create needless work, where there is so much work crying to be done. If that money is put into the bank, instead, or into stocks and bonds, it will employ men and women in really

useful tasks. If it is given to some of the worthy "causes" which are always handicapped for lack of funds, it will employ men in caring for the sick, in educating the ignorant, in feeding the hungry, or in bringing recreation and relief to the worn. Every man or woman whose time and strength we buy for our personal service- valet, maid, gardener, dressmaker, chef, or what not-is taken away from the other work of the world.

(4) A certain hopelessness of effecting any good often paralyzes good will. The help a little money can give seems like a drop in the bucket; its assistance is but for a day, and the need remains as great as ever. It may even be worse than wasted; it may encourage shiftlessness, it may pauperize. There is no doubt that indiscriminate and thoughtless charity is dangerous; the crude largesse of a few rich Romans of the Empire bred vast corruption and pauperism. But there is much that can safely be done; there are many wise and cautious agencies at work for aid and uplift; and every little, if given to one of them, is of real help.

(5) It is sometimes said that if society discountenances luxury, the motive for hard and efficient work will be too much reduced; we need this extra spur to exertion. But the earning of what may permissibly be spent on self is spur enough; there is no need of inordinate luxury to foster faithfulness and exertion. The praise of superiors and equals, a moderate rise in scale of living, the shame of shirking, the instinctive glory in achievement, and the joy of helping others, are stimuli enough.

(6) Finally, the last argument of the selfish man is that "he has earned his money; it is his; he has a right to do with it as he pleases." This we cannot admit. Legally he is as yet free so backward is our social order to accumulate and spend upon himself vast sums. But it is not best for society that he should, and so he is not morally justified

therein. We must agree with Carnegie that "whatever surplus wealth comes to him (beyond his needs and those of his family) is to be regarded as a social trust, which he is bound to administer for the good of his fellows"; and with Professor Seager, that "the general interest requires acceptance of the maxim: the consumption of luxuries should be deferred until all are provided with necessaries."

This does not mean that we need live like peasants, as Tolstoy advised, make our own shoes, and till our own plot of ground; nor that we must come down to the level of the lowest. By doing that we should lose the great advantages of our material progress, which rests upon the high specialization of labor and reciprocal service. We should lose the charm and picturesqueness of highly differentiated lives, and sink into the dull, monotonous democracy which Matthew Arnold so dreaded. We must work where we can best serve; we must try to make our lives and their surroundings beautiful, so far as beauty does not require too great cost. We must save up for a rainy day, for insurance against illness and old age, for wife and children. We may properly invest money, where it will be used to good ends

so that we beware of spendthrift or lazy heirs. We must keep up a reasonably comfortable and beautiful standard of living, such a standard as the majority could hope to attain to by hard work and abstinence and thrift.

But all the money one can earn beyond this ought to be used for service. The extravagance and ostentation and waste of many even moderately well-to-do are a blot upon our civilization. The insane ideal of lavish adornment, of fashionable clothes and costly furnishings, of mere vain display and wanton luxury, infects rich and poor alike, isolating the former from the great universal current of life, and provoking in the latter bitterness and anarchism. Let us ask in every case, Does this expenditure bring use, health, joy

commensurate with the labor it represents? A great deal of current expense in dressing, in entertaining, in eating, could be saved by a sensible economy, with no appreciable loss in enjoyment. We must not forget that everything we consume has been produced by the labor and time of others. What fortune, or our own cleverness, has put into our hands that we do not need for making fair and free our own lives, and the lives of those dependent upon us, we should pass on to those whose need is greater than ours.

Is it wrong to gamble, bet, or speculate?

A corollary to our discussion of the duties appertaining to the use of money must be a condemnation of gambling. Its most obvious evil is the danger of loss of needed money; most gamblers cannot rightly afford to throw away what ought to be used for their real needs and those of their families. Notably is this the case with college students, supported by their parents, who heedlessly waste the money that others have worked hard to save. But even if a man be rich, he should steward his wealth for purposes useful to society. And he must remember that if he can afford to lose, perhaps his opponent cannot.

Moreover, if many cannot afford to lose, no one can afford to win. Insidiously this getting of unearned money promotes laziness, and the desire to acquire more money without work. It makes against loving relations with others, since one always gains at another's expense. It quickly becomes a morbid passion, an unhealthy excitement, which absorbs too much energy and kills more natural enjoyments. The gambling mania, like any other reckless dissipation, easily leads to other dissipations, such as drinking and sex indulgence. These disastrous consequences are, of course, by no means always incurred. But in order that the weaker may be saved from them, it behooves the stronger to abstain.