ails as to the power of finance.

It is true there have been men in finance from time to time, though very
rarely indeed, who did exercise exceedingly great power, such as, in our
generation, the late J. P. Morgan and E. H. Harriman.

But the power of those men rested not in their being financiers, but in
the compelling force of their unique personalities. They were born
leaders of men and they would have been acknowledged leaders and
exercised the power of such leadership in whatever walk of life they
might have selected as theirs.

As I have said before, the capacity of the financier is dependent upon
the confidence of the financial community and the investing public, just
as the capacity of the banks is dependent upon the confidence of the
depositing public. Take away confidence and what remains is only that
limited degree of power or influence which mere wealth may give.

Confidence cannot be compelled; it cannot be bequeathed--or, at most,
only to a very limited extent. It is and always is bound to be voluntary
and personal.

I know of no other centre where the label counts for less, where the
shine and potency of a great name is more quickly rubbed off if the
bearer does not prove his worth, than in the great mart of finance.

Mere wealth indeed can be bequeathed, but the power of mere wealth--to
paraphrase a famous dictum--has decreased, is decreasing and ought to
be, and will be, further diminished.

IV

What, then, can and should finance do on its own part in order to
gain and preserve for itself that repute and status with the public to
which it is entitled, and which in the interest of the country, as well
as itself, it ought to have?

1. Conform to Public Opinion

It must not only _do_ right, but it must also be particularly careful
concerning the _appearance_ of its actions.

Finance should "omit no word or deed" to place itself in the right light
before the people.

It must carefully study and in good faith conform to public opinion.

2. Publicity

One of the characteristics of finance heretofore has been the cult of
silence, some of its rites have been almost those of an occult science.

To meet attacks with dignified silence, to maintain an austere demeanor,
to cultivate an etiquette of reticence, has been one of its traditions.

Nothing could have been more calculated to irritate democracy, which
dislikes and suspects secrecy and resents aloofness.

And the instinct of dem