Copy of Stephen Girard's Letter to Mr. ——, Commander and Supercargo of the ship ——, bound to Batavia.
Sir—I confirm my letters to you of the —— ult., and the —— inst. Having recently heard of the decease of Mr. ——, merchant at Batavia, also of the probable dissolution of his house, under the firm of Messrs. ——, I have judged it prudent to request my Liverpool correspondents to consign the ship ——, cargo, and specie on board, to Mr. ——, merchant at Batavia, subject to your control, and have requested said Liverpool friends to make a separate invoice and bill of lading for the specie, which they will ship on my account, on board of the ship ——, and similar documents for the merchandise, which they will ship in the same manner; therefore, I request that you will sign in conformity.
I am personally acquainted with Mr. ——, but not with Mr. ——, but I am on very friendly terms with some particular friends of the latter gentleman, and consequently I give him the preference. I am sorry to observe, however, that he is alone in a country where a partner appears to me indispensable to a commercial house, as well for the safety of his own capital as for the security of the interests of those who may confide to them property, and reside in distant parts of the globe.
The foregoing reflections, together with the detention of my ship V——, at Batavia, from June last, epoch of her arrival at that port, until the 15th of September, ——, when she had on board only nineteen hundred peculs of coffee, are the motives which have compelled me to request of my Liverpool friends to consign the specie and goods, which they will ship on my account, on board of the ship ——, under your command, to said Mr. ——, subject to your control.
Therefore, relying upon your activity, perseverance, correctness, zeal, and attention for my interest, I proceed in pointing out to you the plan of conduct which I wish you to pursue on your arrival at Batavia, and during your stay at that or any port of that island, until your departure for Cowes, on the Isle of Wight, to await my subsequent orders.
First. On your arrival at Batavia, you are to go on shore and ascertain Mr. ——'s residence, and, if you have reason to believe that he is still considered at that place as a man of good credit, and merits full confidence, you are to deliver to him my Liverpool consignees' letters to his address, and also the goods which you have on board, in such proportion as he may request, except the specie, which is to continue on board, as mentioned in the next article.
Second. The specie funds of the ship ——, which will consist of old Carolus dollars, you are to retain on board untouched, and in the said boxes or packages as they were in when shipped from Liverpool, well secured, and locked up in your powder magazine, in the after run of the said ship under the cabin floor.
The bulkhead and floor of said magazine, scuttle, iron bar, staples, etc., must be made sufficiently strong, if not already so, while you are at Liverpool, where you are to procure a strong padlock and key, for the purpose of securing said specie in the most complete and safest manner; and when you have the certainty that it is wanted to pay for the coffee purchased on account of the ship ——, then you are to receive the said coffee, and pay or deliver to your consignee Spanish dollars to the amount of said purchase, and no more, having due regard to the premium or advance allowed at Batavia on old Spanish dollars; and in that way you are to continue paying or delivering dollars as fast as you receive coffee, which is not to exceed the quantity which can be conveniently stowed on board said ship ——, observing to take a receipt for each payment, and to see that the net proceeds of the goods, which will have been shipped at Liverpool, must be invested in coffee, as far as the sales will permit, and shipped on board of said ship.
Should it happen that on your arrival at Batavia you should find that death, absence, etc., should deprive you of the services of Mr. ——, or that, owing to some causes before mentioned, it would be prudent to confide my interests elsewhere, in either case you are to apply to Messrs. ——, merchants of that place, to communicate your instructions relative to the disposal of the Liverpool cargo, on board of the ship ——, the loading of that ship with good merchantable coffee, giving the preference to the first quality whenever it can be purchased on reasonable terms for cash, or received in payment for the sales of the said Liverpool cargo, or for a part thereof, observing that I wished said coffee to be purchased at Samarang, or any other out-port, if practicable; and in all cases it must be attentively examined when delivered, and put up in double gunny bags.
If the purchase of said cargo is made at an out-port, the ship ——must proceed there to take it in.
On the subject of purchasing coffee at government sales, I have no doubt that it is an easy way to obtain a cargo, but I am of opinion that it is a very dear one, particularly as the fair purchaser, who has no other object in view but to invest his money, does not stay on the footing of competitors, who make their payments with Netherland bills of exchange, or wish to raise the prices of their coffee which they may have on hand for sale.
Under these impressions, I desire that all the purchases of coffee on my account be made from individuals, as far as practicable, and if the whole quantity necessary to load the ship can not be obtained at private sale, recourse must then be had to government sales.
In many instances I have experienced that whenever I had a vessel at Batavia, the prices of coffee at the government sales have risen from five to ten per cent., and sometimes higher.
On the subject of coffee I would remark that, owing to the increase of the culture of that bean, together with the immense imports of tea into the several ports of Europe, the price of that leaf has been lowered to such a degree as to induce the people of those countries, principally of the north, to use the latter article in preference to the first.
That circumstance has, for these past three years, created a gradual deduction from the consumption of coffee, which has augmented the stock on hand throughout every commercial city of the northern part of the globe, so as to present a future unfavorable prospect to the importers of that article. Indeed, I am convinced that, within a few months from this date, coffee will be ten per cent. cheaper in the United States than what it has been at Batavia for these two years past; nevertheless, being desirous to employ my ships as advantageously as circumstances will permit, and calculating also that the price at Java and other places of its growth will fall considerably, I have no objection to adventure.
Therefore, you must use every means in your power to facilitate the success of the voyage.
Should the invoice-cost of the entire cargo of coffee shipped at Java, on board of the ship ——, together with the disbursements of that ship (which must be conducted with the greatest economy), not amount to the specie funds and net proceeds of her Liverpool cargo, in that event you are to deliver the surplus to your consignee, who will give you a receipt for the same, with a duplicate, expressing that it is on my account, for the purpose of being invested on the most advantageous terms, in good dry coffee, to be kept at my order and disposal.
Then you will retain the original in your possession, and forward to me the duplicate by first good vessel to the United States, or via Europe, to care of my correspondents at Liverpool, London, Antwerp, or Amsterdam, the names of whom you are familiar with.
If you should judge it imprudent, however, to leave that money at Batavia, you are to bring it back in Spanish dollars, which you will retain on board for that purpose.
Although I wish you to make a short voyage, and with as quick dispatch at Java as practicable, yet I desire you not to leave that island unless your consignee has finally closed the sales of the Liverpool cargo, so that you may be the bearer of all the documents, and account-current, relative to the final transactions of the consignment of the ship —— and cargo. Duplicate and triplicate of said documents to be forwarded to me by your consignees, by the two first safe conveyances for the ports of the United States.
Being in the habit of dispatching my ships for Batavia from this port, Liverpool, or Amsterdam, as circumstances render it convenient, it is interesting to me to be from time to time informed of the several articles of produce and manufactures from each of those places which are the most in demand and quickest of sale at Java. Also of the quantity of each, size of package, and the probable price which they may sell for, cash, adding the Batavia duty, charges for selling, etc. Please to communicate this to your Batavia consignee.
The rates of commission I will allow for transacting the business relative to the ship and cargo at Java are two and a half per cent, for selling, and two and a half per cent, for purchasing and shipping coffee and other articles.
The consignees engaging to place on board of each prow one or two men of confidence, to see that the goods are safely delivered on board of the ship, to prevent pilfering, which is often practiced by those who conduct the lighter.
I am informed that the expenses for two men are trifling, comparatively, to the plunder which has been committed on board of the prows which deliver coffee on board of the ships.
No commissions whatever are to be allowed in the disbursements of my ships, whenever ship and cargo belong to me, and are consigned to some house.
While you remain at Batavia, I recommend you to stay on board of your ship, and not to go on shore except when the business of your ship and cargo may render it necessary.
Inclosed is an introductory letter to ——, which I request you to deliver, after you have made the necessary arrangements with Mr. ——for the consignment of the ship and cargo, or after the circumstance aforementioned has compelled you to look elsewhere for a consignee. Then you are to call upon said Messrs. ——, deliver them the aforesaid letter and the consignment of the ship —— and cargo, after having agreed with them in writing, which they will sign and deliver to you, that they engage to transact the business of the ship and cargo on the terms and conditions herein stated; and when that business is well understood and finally closed, you are to press them in a polite manner, so that they many give you a quick dispatch, without giving too great a price for the coffee, particularly at this present moment, when its price is declining throughout those countries where it is consumed.
Indeed, on the subject of purchasing coffee for the ship ——, the greatest caution and prudence should be exercised. Therefore, I request that you will follow the plan of conduct laid down for you throughout. Also, to keep to yourself the intention of the voyage, and the amount of specie you have on board; and in view to satisfy the curious, tell them that it is probable that the ship will take in molasses, rice, and sugar, if the price of that produce is very low, adding that the whole will depend on the success in selling the small Liverpool cargo. The consignees of said cargo should follow the same line of conduct, and if properly attended to by yourself and them, I am convinced that the cargo of coffee can be purchased ten per cent. cheaper than it would be if it is publicly known there is a quantity of Spanish dollars on board, besides a valuable cargo of British goods intended to be invested in coffee for Stephen Girard, of Philadelphia.
During my long commercial experience, I have noticed that no advantage results from telling one's business to others, except to create jealousy or competitors when we are fortunate, and to gratify our enemies when otherwise.
If my remarks are correct, I have no doubt they will show you the necessity of being silent, and to attend with activity, perseverance, and modesty, to the interests of your employer.
As my letters of instruction embrace several interesting objects, I request you to peruse them in rotation, when at sea in fine climates, during your voyage to Batavia, and to take correct extracts, so as to render yourself master of the most essential parts. I conclude by directing your attention to your health and that of your crew.
I am yours, respectfully,
Mr. Girard was not only rigidly precise in his instructions, but he permitted no departure from them. He regarded it as dangerous to allow discretion to any one in the execution of his plans. Where a deviation from his instructions might cause success in one case, it would cause loss in ninety-nine others. It was understood among all his employés that a rigid obedience to orders, in even the most trifling particulars, was expected, and would be exacted. If loss came under such circumstances, the merchant assumed the entire responsibility for it.
Upon one occasion one of his best captains was instructed to purchase his cargo of teas at a certain port. Upon reaching home he was summoned by the merchant to his presence.
"Captain ——," said Mr. Girard, sternly, "your instructions required you to purchase your cargo at ——."
"That is true, Mr. Girard," replied the Captain, "but upon reaching that port I found I could do so much better at ——, that I felt justified in proceeding to the latter place."
"You should have obeyed your orders, sir," was the stern retort.
"I was influenced by a desire to serve your interests, sir. The result ought to justify me in my act, since it puts many thousands more into your pocket than if I had bought where I was instructed."
"Captain ——," said Girard, "I take care of my own interests. You should have obeyed your orders if you had broken me. Nothing can excuse your disobedience. You will hand in your accounts, sir, and consider yourself discharged from my service."
He was as good as his word, and, though the captain's disobedience had vastly increased the profit of the voyage, he dismissed him, nor would he ever receive him into his service again.
To his knowledge of his business Mr. Girard joined an unusual capacity for such ventures. He was, it must be said, hard and illiberal in his bargains, and remorseless in exacting the last cent due him. He was prompt and faithful in the execution of every contract, never departed in the slightest from his plighted word, and never engaged in any venture which he was not perfectly able to undertake. He was prudent and cautious in the fullest sense of those terms, but his ventures were always made with a boldness which was the sure forerunner of success.
His fidelity to his word is well shown by a circumstance which had occurred long after he was one of the "money kings" of the land. He was once engaged with his cashier in a discussion as to the length of time a man would consume in counting a million of dollars, telling out each dollar separately. The dispute became animated, and the cashier declared that he could make a million of dots with ink in a few hours.
"I'll tell you what I'll do," said Girard, who was thoroughly vexed by the opposition of the other, "I'll wager five hundred dollars that I can ride in my gig from here to my farm, spend two hours there, and return before you can make your million of dots with ink."
The cashier, after a moment's reflection, accepted the wager, and Mr. Girard departed to his farm. He returned in a few hours, confident that he had won. The cashier met him with a smile.
"Where is my money?" asked Girard, triumphantly.
"The money is mine," replied the cashier. "Come and see."
He led the merchant to an unused room of the bank, and there, to his dismay, Girard saw the walls and ceiling covered with spots of ink, which the cashier had dashed on them with a brush.
"Do you mean to say there are a million of dots here?" he cried, angrily.
"Count them, and see," replied his subordinate, laughing. "You know the wager was a million of dots with ink."
"But I expected you would make them with the pen."
"I did not undertake any thing of the kind."
The joke was too good, and the merchant not only paid the amount of the wager, but the cost of cleaning the walls.
In 1810 the question of renewing the charter of the old Bank of the United States was actively discussed. Girard was a warm friend of that institution, which he believed had been the cause of a very great part of the prosperity of the country, and was firmly convinced that Congress would renew the charter. In this belief he ordered the Barings, of London, to invest all his funds in their hands in shares of the Bank of the United States, which was done, during the following year, to the amount of half a million of dollars. When the charter expired, he was the principal creditor of that institution, which Congress refused to renew. Discovering that he could purchase the old Bank and the cashier's house for one hundred and twenty thousand dollars, he at once secured them, and on the 12th of May, 1812, opened the Girard Bank, with a capital of one million two hundred thousand dollars, which he increased the next year by one hundred thousand dollars more. He retained all the old officers of the Bank of the United States, especially the cashier, Mr. Simpson, to whose skill and experience he was greatly indebted for his subsequent success.
Finding that the salaries which had been paid by the Government were higher than those paid elsewhere, he cut them down to the rate given by the other banks. The watchman had always received from the old Bank the gift of an overcoat at Christmas, but Girard put a stop to this. He gave no gratuities to any of his employés, but confined them to the compensation for which they had bargained; yet he contrived to get out of them service more devoted than was received by other men who paid higher wages and made presents. Appeals to him for aid were unanswered. No poor man ever came full-handed from his presence. He turned a deaf ear to the entreaties of failing merchants to help them on their feet again. He was neither generous nor charitable. When his faithful cashier died, after long years spent in his service, he manifested the most hardened indifference to the bereavement of the family of that gentleman, and left them to struggle along as best they could.
Yet from the first he was liberal and sometimes magnificent in the management of his bank. He would discount none but good paper, but it was his policy to grant accommodations to small traders, and thus encourage beginners, usually giving the preference to small notes, by this system doing very much to avert the evils that would of necessity have sprung from the suspension of the old Bank of the United States. The Government credit was almost destroyed, and money was needed to carry on the war. He made repeated advances to the treasury, unsolicited by the authorities, and on more than one occasion kept the Government supplied with the sinews of war. In 1814, when our prospects, both military and financial, were at their lowest ebb, when the British forces had burned Washington and the New England States were threatening to withdraw from the Union, the Government asked for a loan of five millions of dollars, with the most liberal inducements to subscribers. Only twenty thousand dollars could be obtained, and the project seemed doomed to failure, when it was announced that Stephen Girard had subscribed for the whole amount. This announcement at once restored the public confidence, and Mr. Girard was beset with requests from persons anxious to take a part of the loan, even at an advanced rate. They were allowed to do so upon the original terms. When the Government could not, for want of funds, pay the interest on its debt to him, he wrote to the Secretary of the Treasury:
"I am of opinion that those who have any claim for interest on public stock, etc., should patiently wait for a more favorable moment, or at least receive in payment treasury notes. Should you be under the necessity of resorting to either of these plans, as one of the public creditors, I shall not murmur."
"A circumstance soon occurred, however, which was a source of no little discomfiture to the financial arrangements of his individual institution. This fact was the suspension of specie payments by the State banks, resulting from the non-intercourse act, the suspension of the old bank, and the combined causes tending to produce a derangement of the currency of the country. It was then a matter of great doubt with him how he should preserve the integrity of his own institution, while the other banks were suspending their payments; but the credit of his own bank was effectually secured by the suggestion of his cashier, Mr. Simpson, who advised the recalling of his own notes by redeeming them with specie, and by paying out the notes of the State banks. In this mode not a single note of his own was suffered to be depreciated, and he was thus enabled, in 1817, to contribute effectually to the restoration of specie payments."
He was instrumental in securing the establishment of the new Bank of the United States, and was its largest stockholder and one of its directors. He even offered to unite his own institution with it upon certain liberal conditions, which were refused. Yet he was always a firm friend to it.
"One of the characteristics of Mr. Girard was his public spirit. At one time he freely subscribed one hundred and ten thousand dollars for the navigation of the Schuylkill; at another time he loaned the company two hundred and sixty-five thousand eight hundred and fifty dollars. When the credit of the State of Pennsylvania was prostrated by what was believed to have been an injudicious system of internal improvement, and it was found expedient for the Governor to resort to its metropolis in order to replenish its coffers, he made a voluntary loan to Governor Shultz of one hundred thousand dollars. So far was his disposition to promote the fiscal prosperity of the country manifested, that, as late as 1831, when the country was placed in extreme embarrassment from the scarcity of money, he perceived the cause in the fact that the balance of trade was against us to a considerable extent, and he accordingly drew upon the house of Baring Brothers & Co. for bills of exchange to the amount of twelve thousand pounds sterling, which he disposed of to the Bank of the United States at an advance of ten per cent., which draft was followed up by another for ten thousand, which was disposed of in like manner to other institutions. This act tended to reduce the value of bills, and the rate of exchange suddenly fell. The same spirit which he manifested toward the national currency he exhibited to the corporation of Philadelphia, by erecting new blocks of buildings, and beautifying and adorning its streets; less, apparently, from a desire of profit than from a wish to improve the place which was his adopted home, and where he had reaped his fortunes. His subscription of two hundred thousand dollars to the Danville and Pottsville Railroad, in 1831, was an action in keeping with the whole tenor of his life; and his subscription of ten thousand dollars toward the erection of an exchange looked to the same result."
The war of 1812, which brought financial ruin to so many others, simply increased Girard's wealth. He never lost a ship, and as war prices prevailed, his profits were in accordance with them. One of his ships was taken by a British cruiser at the mouth of the Delaware, in the spring of 1813. Fearing that his prize would be recaptured by an American ship of war if he attempted to send her into port, the English admiral dispatched a flag of truce to Mr. Girard, and proposed to him to ransom the vessel for one hundred and eighty thousand dollars in coin. Girard consented, paid the money, and the ship was allowed to come up to the city. Her cargo consisted of silks, nankeens, and teas, and afforded her owner a profit of half a million of dollars.
Yet in the midst of all his wealth, which in 1828 was estimated at ten millions of dollars, he was a solitary old man.
He lived in a dingy little house in Water Street. His wife had died in an insane asylum, and he was childless. He was repulsive in person. He was feared by his subordinates—by all who had dealings with him—and liked by none. He was mean and close in his personal habits, living on less, perhaps, than any of his clerks, and deriving little or no benefit from his vast wealth, so far as his individual comfort was concerned. He gave nothing in charity. Lazarus would have lain at his doors a life-time without being noticed by him. He was solitary, soured, cold, with a heart of stone, and fully conscious of his personal unpopularity. Yet he valued wealth—valued it for the power it gave him over men. Under that cold, hardened exterior reigned an ambition as profound as that which moved Napoleon. He was ambitious of regulating the financial operations of the land, and proud of his power in this respect, and it should be remembered in his favor that he did not abuse that power after it had passed into his hands.
He had no vices, no dissipations; his whole soul was in his business. He was conscious that his only hope of distinction above his fellow-men was in his wealth, and he was resolved that nothing should make him swerve from his endeavor to accumulate a fortune which should make him all powerful in life and remembered in death. He sought no friends, and was reticent as to his career, saying to those who questioned him about it, "Wait till I am dead; my deeds will show what I was."
Religion had no place in his heart. He was an avowed unbeliever, making a boast of his disbelief. He always worked on Sunday, in order that he might show his disapproval of the observance of it as a day of rest. Rest, he said, made a man rusty, and attendance upon the worship of God he denounced as worse than folly. His favorite books were the works of Voltaire, and he named his best ships after the most celebrated French infidels.
Yet this man, so unloved, so undeserving of love, is said to have once had a warm heart. His early troubles and his domestic griefs are said to have soured and estranged him from mankind.
"No one who has had access to his private papers can fail to be impressed with the belief that these early disappointments furnish the key to his entire character. Originally of warm and generous impulses, the belief in childhood that he had not been given his share of the love and kindness which were extended to others, changed the natural current of his feelings, and, acting on a warm and passionate temperament, alienated him from his home, his parents, and his friends. And when in after time there were superadded years of bitter anguish, resulting from his unfortunate and ill-adapted marriage, rendered even more poignant by the necessity of concealment, and the consequent injustice of public sentiment, marring all his cherished expectations, it may be readily understood why constant occupation became a necessity and labor a pleasure."
This is the testimony of Mr. Henry W. Arey, the distinguished secretary of Girard College, in whose keeping are the papers of the subject of this memoir, and it must be confessed that his view of Girard's character is sustained by the following incidents, the narration of which I have passed over until now, in order that the history of his commercial career might not be interrupted:
In the summer of 1793 the yellow fever broke out with fearful violence in Philadelphia. The citizens fled in dismay, leaving the plague-smitten city to its fate. Houses were left tenantless, and the streets were deserted. It was a season of horror and dread. Those who could not get away avoided each other, and the sufferers were left to languish and die. Money could not buy nurses in sufficient numbers, and often the victims lay unburied for days in the places where they had died. So terrible was the panic that it seemed that nothing could stay it.
On the 10th of September the Federal Gazette, the only paper which had not suspended its publication, contained an anonymous card, stating that of the visitors of the poor all but three had succumbed to the disease or fled from the city, and begging assistance from such benevolent citizens as would consent to render their aid. On the 12th and 14th, meetings were held at the City Hall, at the last of which a volunteer committee was appointed to superintend the measures to be taken for checking the pestilence. Twenty-seven men volunteered to serve, but only twelve had the courage to fulfill their promise. They set to work promptly. The hospital at Bush Hill was reported by the physician to be in a deplorable state—without order, dirty and foul, and in need of nurses. The last, he stated, could not be had for any price. Two of the committee now stepped forward and nobly offered themselves as managers of the hospital. They were Stephen Girard and Peter Helm.
Girard was now a man of wealth and influence, and with a brilliant commercial career opening before him. Above all, he was a foreigner, and unpopular in the city. Yet he did not hesitate to take the post from which others shrank. He and Helm were regarded as doomed men, but they did not falter from their self-imposed task. They went to work at once. Girard chose the post of honor, which was the post of danger—the management of the interior of the hospital. His decisive character was at once felt. Order began to appear, medicines and nurses were procured, and the very next day the committee were informed that the hospital had been cleaned and reorganized, and was prepared to receive patients.
Girard opened his purse liberally, and spared no expense where money would avail. But this was not all. Besides personally superintending the interior of the hospital, he went about through the city seeking the sick and conveying them to the hospital.
"In the great scarcity of help, he used frequently to receive the sick and dying at the gate, assist in carrying them to their beds, nurse them, receive their last messages, watch for their last breath, and then, wrapping them in the sheet on which they had died, carry them out to the burial ground and place them in the trench. He had a vivid recollection of the difficulty of finding any kind of fabric in which to wrap the dead, when the vast number of interments had exhausted the supply of sheets. 'I would put them,' he would say, 'in any old rag I could find.'"
"If he ever left the hospital, it was to visit the infected districts, and assist in removing the sick from the houses in which they were dying without help. One scene of this kind, witnessed by a merchant who was hurrying past with camphored handkerchief pressed to his mouth, affords us a vivid glimpse of this heroic man engaged in his sublime vocation. A carriage, rapidly driven by a black man, broke the silence of the deserted and grass-grown street. It stopped before a frame house, and the driver, first having bound a handkerchief over his mouth, opened the door of the carriage, and quickly remounted to the box. A short, thick-set man stepped from the coach and entered the house. In a minute or two the observer, who stood at a safe distance watching the proceedings, heard a shuffling noise in the entry, and soon saw the stout little man supporting with extreme difficulty a tall, gaunt, yellow-visaged victim of the pestilence. Girard held round the waist the sick man, whose yellow face rested against his own; his long, damp, tangled hair mingled with Girard's; his feet dragging helpless upon the pavement. Thus he drew him to the carriage door, the driver averting his face from the spectacle, far from offering to assist. Partly dragging, partly lifting, Girard succeeded, after long and severe exertion, in getting him into the vehicle. He then entered it himself, closed the door, and the carriage drove away toward the hospital." [A]
For sixty days Mr. Girard continued to discharge his duties, never absenting himself from his post, being nobly sustained by Peter Helm.
Again, in 1797 and 1798, when the city was scourged a second and a third time with the fever, he volunteered his services, and more than earned the gratitude of his fellow-citizens. In the absence of physicians, he took upon himself the office of prescribing for the sick, and as his treatment involved careful nursing and the use of simple remedies only, he was very successful. In 1799 he wrote to his friend Devize, then in France, but who had been the physician at the Bush Hill Hospital in 1793:
"During all this frightful time I have constantly remained in the city, and, without neglecting any public duties, I have played a part which will make you smile. Would you believe it, my friend, that I have visited as many as fifteen sick people in a day, and what will surprise you still more, I have lost only one patient, an Irishman, who would drink a little. I do not flatter myself that I have cured one single person, but you will think with me that in my quality of Philadelphia physician I have been very moderate, and that not one of my confreres have killed fewer than myself."
Such acts as these should go far in his favor in estimating his character, for they are the very height of true heroism.
Mr. Girard was never idle. Work, as has before been said, was a necessity with him. Nothing would draw him from his labors. His only recreation was to drive to his little farm, which lay a few miles out of the city, and engage with his own hands in the work of tilling it. He was very proud of the vegetables and fruits he raised himself, and took great interest in improving their growth. During the visit of the present head of the house of Baring Bros, (then a young man) to this country, that gentleman supposed he would give Mr. Girard pleasure by informing him of the safe arrival of one of his ships, the Voltaire, from India. Engaging a carriage, he drove to the banker's farm, and inquired for Mr. Girard.
"He is in the hay-loft," was the answer.
"Inform him that I wish to see him," said Mr. Baring; but almost before the words had left his lips Girard was before him.
"I came to inform you," he said, addressing the banker, "that your ship, the Voltaire, has arrived safely."
"I knew that she would reach port safely," said Girard; "my ships always arrive safe. She is a good ship. Mr. Baring, you must excuse me; I am much engaged in my hay." And so saying, he ascended to the loft again.
To the last he was active. In 1830, having reached the age of eighty, he began to lose the sight of his eye; yet he would have no assistance. In attempting to cross a crowded street, he was knocked down by a passing wagon and injured severely. His ear was cut off, his face bruised, and his sight entirely destroyed. His health now declined rapidly, and on the 26th of December, 1831, he died, in the back room of his plain little house in Water Street.
His immense wealth was carefully divided by his will. He gave to his surviving brother and eleven of his nieces sums ranging from five to twenty thousand dollars, and to his remaining niece, who was the mother of a very large family, he gave sixty thousand dollars. He gave to each of the captains then in his employ who had made two voyages in his service, and who should bring his ship safely into port, fifteen hundred dollars. To each of his apprentices he gave five hundred dollars. To his old servants he gave annuities, ranging from three to five hundred dollars each.
He gave thirty thousand dollars to the Pennsylvania Hospital, in which his wife had been cared for; twenty thousand to the Deaf and Dumb Asylum; ten thousand to the Orphan Asylum; ten thousand to the Lancaster schools; ten thousand for the purpose of providing the poor in Philadelphia with free fuel; ten thousand to the Society for the Relief of Distressed Sea-Captains and their Families; twenty thousand to the Masonic Grand Lodge of Pennsylvania, for the relief of poor members; six thousand for the establishment of a free school in Passyunk, near Philadelphia; five hundred thousand dollars to the Corporation of Philadelphia for certain improvements in the city; three hundred thousand to the State of Pennsylvania for her canals; and a portion of his valuable estates in Louisiana to the Corporation of New Orleans, for the improvement of that city.
The remainder of his property, worth then about six millions of dollars, he left to trustees for the erection and endowment of the noble College for Orphans, in Philadelphia, which bears his name.
Thus it will be seen that this man, who seemed steeled to resist appeals for private charity in life, in death devoted all the results of his unusual genius in his calling to the noblest of purposes, and to enterprises of the most benignant character, which will gratefully hand his name down to the remotest ages of posterity.
CHAPTER II.
JOHN JACOB ASTOR.
Those who imagine that the mercantile profession is incapable of developing the element of greatness in the mind of man, find a perfect refutation in the career of the subject of this memoir, who won his immense fortune by the same traits which would have raised him to eminence as a statesman. It may be thought by some that he has no claim to a place in the list of famous Americans, since he was not only German by birth, but German in character to his latest day; but it must be borne in mind that America was the theater of his exploits, and that he owed the greater part of his success to the wise and beneficent institutions of the "New Land," as he termed it. In his own country he would have had no opportunity for the display of his great abilities, and it was only by placing himself in the midst of institutions favorable to progress that he was enabled to make use of his talents. It is for this reason, therefore, that we may justly claim him as one of the most celebrated of American merchants.
John Jacob Astor was born in the village of Waldorf, near Heidelberg, in the Grand Duchy of Baden, on the 17th of July, 1763. This year was famous for the conclusion of the Treaties of Paris and Hubertsburg, which placed all the fur-yielding regions of America, from the Gulf of Mexico to the Frozen Sea, in the hands of England. He was the youngest of four sons, and was born of Protestant parents. He was early taught to read Luther's Bible and the Prayer-book, and throughout his whole life remained a zealous Protestant. He was trained to the habit of rising early, and giving the first of his waking hours to reading the Bible and Prayer-book. This habit he continued all through life, and he often declared that it was to him the source of unfailing pleasure and comfort. His religious impressions were mainly due to his mother, who was a pious, thrifty, and hard-working woman, given to saving, and devoted to her family.
His father, on the contrary, was a jolly "ne'er do well," a butcher by trade, and not overburdened with industry. The business of a butcher in so small a village as Waldorf, where meat was a luxury to the inhabitants, was merely a nominal calling. It knew but one season of real profit. It was at that time the custom in Germany for every farmer to set apart a calf, pig, or bullock, and fatten it against harvest time. As that season approached, the village butcher passed from house to house to slaughter the animal, cure its flesh, or make sausage meat of it, spending, sometimes, several days at each house. This season brought Jacob Astor an abundance of work, and enabled him to provide liberally for the simple wants of his family; but during the rest of the year it was with difficulty that he could make bread for them. Yet Jacob took his hard lot cheerfully. He was merry over his misfortunes, and sought to forget them in the society of companions who gathered at the village beer-house. His wife's remonstrances against such a course of life were sometimes so energetic that the house became any thing but a pleasant place for the children.
Here John Jacob grew up to boyhood. His brothers left home to earn their livelihood elsewhere, as soon as they were old enough to do so, and he alone remained under the paternal roof. His father destined him for his own calling, but the boy shrank from it with disgust. To crown his misfortunes, his mother died, and his father married again, and this time a woman who looked with no favor upon the son. The newly-married pair quarreled continually, and the boy was glad to escape occasionally to the house of a schoolmate, where he passed the night in a garret or outhouse. By daylight he was back at his father's slaughter-house, to assist in carrying out the meat. He was poorly clad and badly fed, and his father's bad reputation wounded him so keenly that he shrank from playing with other boys, and led a life of comparative isolation.
Fortunately for him, he had a teacher, Valentine Jeune by name, the son of French Protestants, who was better fitted for his position than the majority of the more liberally-patronized Catholic instructors. He was well taught by Valentine Jeune in the rudiments of a plain education, and the tutor and the Protestant minister of the village together succeeded so well in his religious instruction that at the age of fourteen he was confirmed. Confirmation is the decisive point in the career of the German youth. Until then he is only a child. Afterward he is regarded as on the threshold of manhood, and is given to understand that the time has come for him to make choice of a career in life.
To the German peasant two courses only lie open, to learn a trade or go out to service. John Jacob was resolved not to do the latter, and he was in no condition to adopt the former. He was already familiar with his father's trade, but he shrank from it with disgust, and he could not hope to obtain money enough to pay for his tuition as an apprentice in any other calling. No workman in the village would receive him as an apprentice for less than fifty dollars, and fifty dollars were then further beyond his reach than as many millions in after years. The harvest was approaching, and Jacob Astor, seeing an unusual amount of work in store for him at that season, decided the matter for his son by informing him that he must prepare to settle down as his assistant. He obeyed, but discontentedly, and with a determination to abandon his home at the earliest practicable moment.
His chief desire was to leave Germany and emigrate to America. The American Revolution had brought the "New Land" into great prominence; and one of the brothers, Henry Astor, had already settled in New York as a butcher, and his letters had the effect of increasing John Jacob's desire to follow him. It was impossible to do so then, for the war which was raging in this country made it any thing but inviting to an emigrant, and the boy was entirely ignorant of the English language. Nevertheless, he knew that the war could not last always, and he resolved to go as soon as peace would allow him. Meanwhile he wished to join his elder brother, who had removed to London, and was now engaged with his uncle in the manufacture of musical instruments. In London he thought he could acquire a knowledge of English, and save from his wages the amount necessary to pay his passage from England to America. He could reach some of the seaports of the Continent by walking. But he needed money to pay his passage from there to Great Britain. His determination thus formed, he made no secret of it, and succeeded at length in extorting a reluctant consent from his father, who was not inclined to expect very much from the future career of his son. His teacher, however, had more faith in him, and said to the butcher, on the morning of the lad's departure: "I am not afraid of John Jacob; he'll get through the world. He has a clear head, and every thing right behind the ears."
He was seventeen years old when he left home; was stout and well built, and had a constitution of iron. He was possessed of a good plain education, and a remarkable degree of common sense. He had no vicious habits or propensities, and was resolved that he would never set foot again in his native town until he could do so as a rich man.
Ardently as he was bent on seeking his fortune in distant lands, it cost him a struggle to go away, for he was a true German in his attachment to his home and family. This attachment he never lost. After providing liberally for his relatives in his will, he made a munificent donation to his native village for the benefit of its poor children.
With his scanty wardrobe in a bundle, which he slung over his shoulder by a stick, and a mere pittance in his purse, he set out from Waldorf, on foot, for the Rhine. "Soon after I left the village," said he, in after-life, "I sat down beneath a tree to rest, and there I made three resolutions: to be honest, to be industrious, and not to gamble." He had but two dollars in his pocket; but this was enough for his purpose. The Rhine was not far distant from his native village, and this part of his journey he easily accomplished on foot. Upon reaching the river, he is said to have secured a place as oarsman on a timber raft. The timber which is cut in the Black Forest for shipment is made up into rafts on the Rhine, but instead of being suffered to float down the stream, as in this country, is rowed by oarsmen, each raft having from sixty to eighty men attached to it. As the labor is severe and attended with some risk, the wages are high, and the lot of the oarsmen not altogether a hard one, as they manage to have a great deal of sport among themselves. The amount paid as wages on these voyages is about ten dollars, besides the coarse fare furnished the men, and the time occupied is about two weeks.
Upon reaching the Dutch seaport at the mouth of the Rhine, young Astor received his wages—the largest sum he had ever possessed—and took passage in a vessel for London, where he was welcomed cordially by his brother, and provided with employment in his manufactory.
He now set to work to prepare himself for his emigration to America. His industry was unflagging. He worked literally from dawn till dark, and practiced the most rigid economy in his expenditures. His leisure time, which was brief, was spent in trying to master the English language, and in acquiring information respecting America. He had anticipated great difficulty in his efforts to learn English, but succeeded beyond his hopes. In six weeks he could make himself understood in that language, and some time before starting for America could speak it with ease, though he never could at any period of his life rid himself of his strong German accent. He was never able to write English correctly, but after being some years in this country acquired a style which was striking and to the point, in spite of its inaccuracy. England, however, was not a favorable place for acquiring information respecting America. The Colonies had exasperated the mother country by their heroic struggle for freedom, which was just drawing to its close, and the New World was pictured to the imagination of the young German in any thing but a favorable light. His most accurate information was gained from those who had returned from America, and these persons, as often as chance threw them in his way, he questioned with eagerness and precision; their answers were carefully stored up in his memory.
In September, 1783, the news of the peace which established the independence of the United States was published in Europe. Young Astor had now been in London two years, and had saved money enough to take him to America. He was the possessor of a suit of good clothes, besides his ordinary wearing apparel, and fifteen guineas in English money, which he had saved from his slender earnings by the absolute denial to himself of every thing not essential to his existence. The way to America was now open, and he resolved to set out at once. For five guineas he bought a steerage passage in a ship bound for Baltimore, and reserving about five pounds sterling of the remainder of his capital in money, invested the rest in seven German flutes, which he bought of his brother, and embarked for the "New Land."
The winter was memorable on land and sea for its severity, and our hero's first voyage was a stormy one. It is said that on one occasion, when the tempest was unusually violent, and the ship in imminent danger, he made his appearance in his Sunday clothes. In reply to those who asked his reason for so strange an act, he said that if he should reach land he would save his best clothes, and that if he was drowned it was immaterial what became of them.
Although the ship sailed in November, it did not reach the Chesapeake until near the end of January, and there, when only one day distant from Baltimore, was caught in the ice, where it was compelled to remain until late in March. This delay was very vexatious to the young emigrant, but it proved in the end the greatest blessing that could have befallen him. During the voyage Astor had made the acquaintance of one of his fellow passengers, a German, somewhat older than himself, and, while the ship lay fast in the ice, the two were constantly together. As a consequence of the intimacy which thus sprung up between them, they exchanged confidences, told each other their history, and their purpose in coming to America. Astor learned that his friend had emigrated to the New World a few years before, friendless and penniless, but that, beginning in a little way, he had managed to become a fur trader. He bought his furs from the Indians, and from the boatmen plying on the Hudson River. These he sold at a small profit to larger dealers, until he had accumulated a considerable sum for one in his position. Believing that he could find a better market in Europe than in America, he had embarked all his capital in skins, which he had taken to England and sold at a heavy advance. The proceeds he had invested in toys and trinkets valued by the savages, and was now on his way back with them, intending to go into the wilderness himself and purchase an additional stock of furs from the Indians. He recommended Astor to enter upon the same business; gave him valuable information as to the value of peltries in America and in England; told him the best way of buying, packing, preserving, and shipping the skins, and gave him the names of the leading furriers in New York, Montreal, and London. Astor was deeply impressed with the views of his friend, but he could not see his own way clear to such a success, as he had no capital. His friend assured him that capital was unnecessary if he was willing to begin in an humble way. He could buy valuable furs on the wharves of New York for toys and trinkets, and even for cakes, from the Indians who visited the city, and these he could sell at an advance to the New York dealers. He advised the young man, however, not to be satisfied with the American market, but to work for a position which would enable him to send his furs to England, where they would bring four or five times as much as in this country. Astor carefully treasured up all that his friend said to him, and quietly resolved that he would lose no time in entering upon this business, which seemed to promise so much.
The two friends traveled together from Baltimore to New York, where they were warmly received by Aster's brother, Henry, who had succeeded in laying the foundation of a prosperous business as a butcher, in which he afterward made a large fortune. Both brothers were men of business habits, and on the very first evening after the arrival of the new-comer they began to discuss plans for his future. Astor's friend stated all the advantages of the fur trade, and convinced Henry Astor that it was a fine field for the energies of his brother; and it was agreed that it would be best for the young man to seek employment in the service of some furrier in the city, in order that he might thoroughly learn the business, and familiarize himself with the country and its customs. To his great delight, young Astor learned that, so far from being compelled to pay his employer for learning him the business, as in Europe, he would be certain here to receive his board and nominal wages from the first. The next day the three started out, and succeeded in obtaining a situation for the young man in the store of Mr. Robert Bowne, a Quaker, and a merchant of long experience in the business, as well as a most estimable man. He is said to have engaged Astor at two dollars per week and his board.
Astor was at once set to work by his employer to beat furs, this method of treating them being required to prevent the moths from lodging in and destroying them. From the first he applied himself to the task of learning the business. He bent all the powers of his remarkable mind to acquiring an intimate knowledge of furs, and of fur-bearing animals, and their haunts and habits. His opportunities for doing so were very good, as many of the skins were sold over Bowne's counters by the hunters who had taken them. These men he questioned with a minuteness that astonished them, and the result was that in a few years he was as thoroughly familiar with the animals, their habits, their country, and the mode of taking them, as many of the trappers themselves. He is said to have been in his prime the best judge of furs in America. He appreciated the fact that no man can succeed in any business or profession without fully understanding it, and he was too much determined upon success to be satisfied with a superficial knowledge. He was resolved that there should be no detail in the business, however minute, with which he was unfamiliar, and he toiled patiently to acquire information which most salesmen in his place would have esteemed trivial. Nothing was trivial with him, however, and it is remarkable that he never embarked in any scheme until he had mastered its most trifling details. Few men have ever shown a deeper and more far-reaching knowledge of their profession and the issues involved in it than he. He fully understood that his knowledge would give him a power which a man of less information could not obtain, and he never failed to use that knowledge as a power. His instructions to his subordinates were always drawn up with the strictest regard to details, and show not only how thoroughly he had mastered the subject before him, but also how much importance he attached to the conscientious fulfillment of a well-digested plan of operations. He recognized no such thing as luck. Every thing with him was the result of a deliberate plan based upon knowledge. In this respect his career affords one of the best models to be found in our history.