Fifty years in Wall Street

by Henry Clews

The captain did not stand a minute on the order of his going, and the millionaire’s sister, without receiving one kind adieu, was conducted from the palatial mansion of her brother to the vessel, and thence to her pauper home in France.

This shows that the great philanthropist had a good memory and was resentful of injuries, yet it also betrays a narrowness from some taint of which the greatest minds are not entirely free. The Girard sister was unable to comprehend the higher aspirations of her young brother and his intelligent convictions, which had, no doubt, taken form at that early period of his life, that a man can never become wealthy by hard manual labor. He was wrong, however, in giving her the cold shoulder. She was correct in one sense, from her point of view, although a narrow view, and his large charity should have condoned an error arising from her superficial conception of his early designs.

His narrow-mindedness, with all his genuine greatness, and his eccentricity were exhibited in a remarkable degree in some of the restrictions of his will regarding the college. Although he was exceedingly generous in his gifts to religious denominations, without distinction, as well as to charitable institutions generally, he was, though illiterate, a free thinker of the school of Voltaire and Rousseau. He, therefore, had inserted in his will a prohibitory clause to the effect that no clergyman should be permitted to have anything to do with Girard College, nor even be admitted as a visitor. The college is for orphans between six and ten years of age, who are put to a trade when they are sixteen, all expenses being defrayed until they are able to earn a living. There are now over 500 beneficiaries. Girard died in 1831, at the ripe age of four score and one. He was worth nine million dollars, of which but a very small pittance went to a few of his relatives, the great bulk of the estate having been distributed among charitable institutions. This great philanthropist was exceedingly close in money matters with men generally, and it is said that he never had a friend, except the friend in the pocket, which is by all odds the most genuine.

The late James Lenox takes rank with the great philanthropists of the age, in attempting to devote a large portion of his surplus wealth to the good of humanity. When he died, in 1880, at the age of eighty, he was supposed to be one of the five wealthiest men in New York. He spent a million dollars to found and endow the Presbyterian Hospital at Seventieth street and Madison avenue, and over a half million in building the Lenox Library at Seventieth street and Fifth avenue.

The building and the library are both immense gifts, but admission to the latter is so hampered by red tape, forms and ceremonies that it is of little or no earthly use to the general public. As a piece of architecture the building may, according to the ideas of the famous John Buskin, help to educate the people, but in other respects they derive no benefit from it. The library, which is built on ten city lots, contains the choicest selection of books in the world, outside of the British Museum, besides valuable manuscripts and works of art, and its collection of American works is unsurpassed anywhere. That part of the collection, consisting of Mr. Lenox’s own private library of 15,000 volumes, contains books of rare value, many of which could not be duplicated. This is one reason why the general public are excluded.

In fact, there is a good deal to be said in favor of the fastidious care that is taken of some libraries and picture galleries, as a large portion of the general public don’t know how to appreciate their privileges, and therefore abuse them, some through the relic monomania and others actuated by pure mischief. Thus it was that Mr. William H. Vanderbilt was very reluctantly obliged to exclude the general public from his fine picture gallery, as certain visitors scratched the etchings with their canes and put their fingers on the pictures, while others were incessantly on the relic hunt and had to be carefully watched during their visit.

Peter Cooper.

Peter Cooper was another of the philanthropists, with large means, who sought to distribute a considerable part of it where it would do the most good to humanity, especially to that portion of it who are in pursuit of knowledge under difficulties. Mr. Cooper had a hard time of it himself getting a fair education, and he knew how to appreciate the boon. He was born in New York in 1791, and at the age of seventeen was apprenticed to a coachmaker. He tried his hand at several other occupations, was an inventor by nature, and the designer and builder of the first locomotive in this country, which had its trial trip on a part of the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad.

Mr. Cooper experienced his great success in fortune building in the manufacture of glue. He afterwards erected extensive iron works at Baltimore, Maryland, and subsequently in Trenton, New Jersey. During his life he built the Cooper Institute, at a cost of $650,000, with a subsequent donation of $150,000. This institution is devoted to the instruction and elevation of the working classes. It consists of a large reading room and library and a public lecture hall. The building occupies a small block at the junction of Third and Fourth avenues and Eighth street. It has evening schools, attended by 2,000 pupils; a school of design for females, in which there are 200; also, a school of telegraphy for women, from which, in two years, over 300 operators have been sent out.

The rents from the building on the lower floor and the offices defray the greater portion of the expenses. Ample provision was made in Mr. Cooper’s will for the permanence of the institution. During his life he was a general donor to all kinds of charitable institutions, and almost every variety of labor organization. He ran for President in 1876 on the Greenback and Labor ticket, and was defeated by an overwhelming majority. He had an idea that a large issue of greenbacks would create universal prosperity and make everybody happy. He died in 1883, at the age of ninety-two, leaving five or six million dollars, the greater portion of which fell to his son and daughter, the latter being the wife of Mayor Hewitt.