Mr. MacDonald invited me to go to his studio to see a bust in clay of Mr. Stewart that he had just about finished. He said, “I knew Mr. Stewart’s aversion to having any portraits or photographs taken of himself during his lifetime, so I provided for the emergency some time ago by taking close observation of him at various intervals. During the past two years I have frequently come in contact with him, going into his store and getting a good look at him from various points of view, so as to impress his likeness upon my mind. I have thus succeeded in getting a pretty good bust of him in clay.”
Mr. MacDonald was very anxious that I should call and see this bust, because, as I knew Mr. Stewart so well, he inferred that my judgment would be worth something, and he expressed a desire that I should criticise his work. I promised him I would call and see the bust as soon as I could spare the time.
On leaving the dentist’s office I made another engagement to go back the following week, and in the meantime I had been unable to call at the studio of the artist, but the latter happened to be in the office of the dentist when I called there again. The will of Mr. Stewart had been published in the interim, and in it all reference to charities and benevolent institutions had been carefully omitted.
Mr. MacDonald reminded me that I had not called to see the bust, and added, “If you had called that time you would hardly recognize any resemblance between what it is now and what it was then.” “How is that?” I inquired. “Because,” he replied (facetiously), “as soon as I saw the will published in the newspapers and none of that immense pile left to the public, from whom it had been collected, I set to work and toned down the bumps of benevolence, conscientiousness, sublimity, veneration and ideality, making those of acquisitiveness, inhabitiveness, amativeness and all the selfish and animal propensities prominent. I naturally concluded, if phrenology is not a fraud, that Stewart’s will was a manifestation of the non-existence of the higher and more humane organs in his cranium. There certainly could be nothing there indicative of any generous emotions.”
I think everybody who knew the great dry goods merchant will be inclined to say that the judgment of the sculptor was neither rash nor uncharitable.
Stephen Girard.
Stephen Girard was another of the great millionaires who arose from penury, and whose eccentricity took a philanthropic turn. Mr. Girard was a Frenchman, born near Bordeaux in 1750, who made his home in later years in Philadelphia. He bequeathed over two million dollars to found and endow Girard College in that city.
There is a good story told, which seems to be well authenticated, of the manner in which Mr. Girard rewarded the ingratitude of a sister. When he was a boy about ten he manifested very little disposition for hard work, and his family treated him harshly. One morning a rumpus arose about his idleness, and having said something that aroused the ire of his sister, she clutched the broom and flew at him in a rage. He retreated, receiving a few hard blows over the shoulders as he passed for the last time over the threshold of his paternal home. He went to sea, his father having been a seaman, and through various vicissitudes of fortune eventually turned up as a millionaire in Philadelphia.
After young Girard had gone through the preliminary course as cabin boy, trading between France, the West Indies and New York, he had saved up some money and became part owner of a small trading vessel. This was in 1776, the year of the Declaration of Independence. His trading was suspended by the war with Great Britain. He then speculated in the renting of a number of stores in Philadelphia, and sub-let them at a large profit. Afterward he purchased a controlling interest in the stock of the old U. S. Bank in 1812, and became a private banker with a capital of more than a million. Subsequently he loaned five millions to the Government to help defray war expenses.
In the meantime fortune, however, had not favored his irate sister, who had chastised him with the broom. She remained poor. She had heard of her brother’s wealth, however, but did not have money enough to pay her passage to this country. In this extremity she went to the captain of a Philadelphia vessel in a French port and told him that she was a sister of Stephen Girard, without money, and desired to go and see her brother, who was well known to the captain. She received the best accommodation that the vessel could afford. Having arrived in Philadelphia the gallant captain escorted her to the house of her wealthy brother. Leaving her in the hallway he went in to see Mr. Girard and told him that a lady outside wished to see him. The benevolent captain was prepared to behold a demonstration of joy, which he thought would be exhibited as soon as the long lost brother and sister should recognize each other. He was not kept long in suspense. Mr. Girard knew his sister instantly. “C’est vous.” “It is you,” he said. “Oui,” she replied. These were all the words that passed. There was no rushing into each others arms, but on the contrary, Mr. Girard plunged at the captain in a lively mood. “What authority had you to bring that woman here?” he said. The captain was dumbfounded and hardly knew what to answer. “Take her back again at your own expense,” he added.