Goethe on the Willingness to Pay

This evening . . . I was standing in the main street, joking with my old shopkeeper friend, when I was suddenly accosted by a tall, well-dressed runner who thrust a silver salver at me, on which lay several copper coins and a few pieces of silver.  Since I had no idea what he wanted, I shrugged my shoulders and ducked my head, the usual gesture for showing that one has not understood or does not wish to.  He left as quickly as he had come, and then I saw another runner on the opposite side of the street, occupied in the same fashion.
    I asked the shopkeeper what all this was about, and he pointed with a meaningful, almost furtive glance to a tall, thin gentleman, dressed in the height of fashion, who was walking down the middle of the street through all the dung and dirt with an air of imperturbable dignity. . . .
    “That is Prince Pallagonia,” said the shopkeeper.  “From time to time he walks through the city collecting ransom money for the slaves who have been captured by Barbary pirates.  The collection never amounts to much, but people are reminded of their plight, and those who never contribute during their lifetime often leave a considerable legacy to this cause.  The prince has been president of this charity for many years now, and has done a great deal of good.”
    “If,” I said, “instead of spending vast sums on follies for his villa, he had used them for this cause, no prince in the world would have accomplished more.”
    My shopkeeper disagreed: “Aren’t we all like that?  We pay gladly for our follies but we expect others to pay for our virtues.”