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,

STEPHEN GIRARD.


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.'"

[Illustration: GIRARD'S HEROISM.]

"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."

[Footnote A: James Parton.]

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