In many minds millions breed envy, and it is only natural that while William H. Vanderbilt’s wonderful ability has been universally recognized, his personal qualities should have been misrepresented. Four hasty and injudicious words of his seem to have made a deeper impression upon the public mind than his many notable acts of generosity and public spirit. The circumstances under which that famous epigram, “the public be d——d!” was uttered, are thus narrated by Henry Clews, in his interesting volume of reminiscences, which has also been the authority for other facts cited in this article: The subject [of Mr. Vanderbilt’s interview with a Chicago newspaper reporter] was the fast mail train to Chicago. Mr. Vanderbilt was thinking of taking this train off because it did not pay. “Why are you going to stop this fast mail train?” asked the reporter. “Because it doesn’t pay,” replied Mr. Vanderbilt; “I can’t run a train as far as this permanently at a loss.” “But the public find it very convenient and useful. You ought to accommodate them,” rejoined the reporter. “The public!” said Mr. Vanderbilt. “How do you know, or how can I know, that they want it? If they want it, why don’t they patronize it and make it pay? That’s the only test I have as to whether a thing is wanted or not. Does it pay? If it doesn’t pay I suppose it isn’t wanted.” “Are you working,” persisted the reporter, “for the public or for your stockholders?” “The public be damned!” exclaimed Mr. Vanderbilt. “I am working for my stockholders. If the public want the train why don’t they support it?” The expression, when placed in its real connection in the interview, does not imply any slur upon the public. It simply intimates that he was urging a thing on the public which it did not want and practically refused. The “cuss” word might have been left out, but the crushing reply to the reporter would not have been so emphatic, and that obtrusive representative of public opinion might have gone away unsquelched. William H. Vanderbilt never sought notoriety for his acts of munificence, but they were neither few nor small. He voluntarily paid to his brother Cornelius an annuity five times as large as that named by his father’s will. He presented each of his sisters with half a million in United States bonds. He added $300,000 to the million given by the Commodore to the Vanderbilt University at Nashville, Tennessee. He bore the expense of bringing the obelisk that now stands in Central Park from Alexandria to New York—which cost over $100,000. He gave $500,000 to the College of Physicians and Surgeons. His will distributed another million among various charities.