But among all American capitalists the name of Astor looms up in unapproachable solitude, and stands as it has stood for nearly forty years.
We may get the better idea of the Astor estate by a comparative view. Thus, a man worth one hundred thousand dollars is a rich man; a man worth five hundred thousand dollars is a very rich man; a millionaire is still more the ideal of wealth. Mr. Astor, then, is, if rightly estimated, equal to twenty-five millionaires, or two hundred and fifty rich men of the class first mentioned. In the seven hundred thousand inhabitants of New-York, there are not more than two hundred men worth one hundred thousand dollars; not more than twenty-five of the second; not more than ten of the last. Approaching the assessment-roll, we may estimate the Astor estate at one thirtieth of the entire city. Thus he stands one seven hundred thousandth in the proportion of population, and one thirtieth in that of wealth; or in other words, he owns what would be a fair proportion for twenty-five thousand of his fellow-citizens. The commencement of this estate was, as is well known, by small beginnings.
Among the emigrants who landed in New-York about the close of the French Revolution, was a rude German, from Baden Baden, whose life in the New World was commenced as a laborer. He afterward became a peddler of fancy goods, and eventually a dealer in peltries. In 1791 there appeared at Number 40 Little Dock street, the unpretending name of John Jacob Astor, and here the foundation of his estate was laid. Astor soon took fair rank among business men. He was prompt and snug in his dealing, honest and straightforward, and beside this, carried great weight of character in his countenance. No man could be much with him without being struck with his depth of character, and the solidity of his views. At that time the fur-trade was brisk along the Mohawk, and the peltries, after passing through the hands of frontier dealers, generally found their way into Astor's warehouse, in Liberty street. Here they were sorted with great care by his own hands, and prepared for foreign markets. An octogenarian merchant informed me that, calling once at Mr. Astor's store, he found him in an upper loft clad in a long, coarse wrapper, and engaged among his furs. 'I shall get for that,' said he, holding up the skin of a splendid silver fox, 'forty dollars, in St. Petersburg.' It probably cost him less than five dollars. Astor had no sooner gained a position as a thrifty trader, than he took a higher step by induction into Free-Masonry. We say a higher step, not with a view of glorifying this institution, but because at that time it was exceedingly popular and aristocratic, and gave tone to citizenship. Among the leading Free-Masons of New-York were Peter Irving and his brother William, Martin Hoffman, the founder of the great auction business, and father of the late L. M. Hoffman. Moving among these magnates, John Jacob Astor became Grand Treasurer. Mr. Astor had a brother of the same thrifty turn, though not so successful in acquiring wealth. He was a butcher by trade, and slaughtered himself into a pittance of one hundred thousand dollars, which, as he died early, he bequeathed to William B., his nephew. 'To him that hath shall be given.' Mr. Astor's oldest son is said to have been a very promising lad, but his brain became injured by a fall, and he soon fell into a state of derangement. A private asylum was arranged for his use years ago, and this, with its grounds, covers an entire block in the western part of the city.
Mr. Astor's profits rolled in upon him at a rate which no one could have dreamed of, and he kept their amount a secret until he had so penetrated the frontier by his agencies that he controlled the whole trade, when he occasionally acknowledged a degree of wealth which astonished those who heard. For instance, we may state this fact in illustration: He had occasion at a certain time to use a large amount of cash, and what was very rare with him, applied to his bank for a heavy discount. The unusual circumstance and the sum demanded startled the cashier, who in a plain, business way, put the question: 'Mr. Astor, how much do you consider yourself worth?' 'Not less than a million,' was the reply. A million! the cashier was overwhelmed. He supposed that he knew all his customers, and had rated Astor at hardly more than one tenth of that sum.
Mr. Astor commenced at an early day to buy real estate, and the habit grew upon him until it became a passion. He was for years a leading character at sheriff and other land sales, and it was the commonest thing at such places to hear the closing words of the auctioneer: 'Last call—going, going—gone—to John Jacob Astor.' At that time many large estates were broken up, and among others, that of Aaron Burr was put into the market, and speedily became the property of Mr. Astor. It embraced a small suburban principality, whose mansion, 'Richmond Hill,' was Burr's country-seat. The whole property is now in the heart of the city and is worth millions, where once it brought thousands. Mr. Astor boldly bought those wild lands, including swamps, rocky knolls, and barren commons, which lay at waste from Canal street onward to Bloomingdale, and while others affected to laugh at his judgment, the correctness of that judgment is now quite apparent. A case similar in character is that of the late eccentric Jonathan Hunt. This man, who had accumulated a vast fortune South, was quite noted, a few years ago, for his dashing land purchases in New-York, and his relatives actually served on him a warrant de lunatico inquirendo, with a view of preventing him from wasting his estate. Subsequently, however, it turned out that these incessant purchases which had made him a leading man at the Merchants' Exchange, and an object of distrust to his family, were splendid operations. Poor Hunt's bid was subsequently refused by the auctioneers, on the score of insanity, while the lots he bought on Madison avenue and elsewhere, were, in fact, as speculations, superior to the operations of the most sagacious speculators.
Astor's boldness increased with years. He bought government loans at a time when other capitalists shrunk, and the price had run down to the lowest mark. He bought claims against old estates—one of which paid an enormous profit, and would have been accounted a splendid fortune of itself—while the gradual increase of the city brought his waste lands into demand; and the opening of the Erie Canal may be said to have at one stroke added a million of dollars to the value of his estate. Whatever was bought was held with determined grasp, however small the prospect of advance. For instance, a friend of ours (now dead) purchased, in company with Mr. Astor, two lots on Broadway, of which they took separate deeds, and held for an advance. Year after year passed by, but no advance appeared, while assessments were continually made for city improvement. At the end of this period our friend called on Mr. Astor and stated that he was weary of such long delay in getting return for his investment, and asked him if he would not take the lot and give him its simple cost. Mr. Astor calmly acceded to the proposal. Had our friend held the same views as the great land operator, he would have realized a fortune from this single lot, since what then cost one thousand dollars is now worth fifty thousand dollars.
The Napoleonic character of Mr. Astor's mind is shown by the great commercial schemes which shared the claims of real estate. He was extending the ramifications of his trade through the North-west wilderness and competing with the Hudson Bay Company for the peltry taken by the numerous tribes of savages, while at the same time a vast export trade was carried on with Europe, and also with China, whence he brought teas in exchange for furs. It was this broad ambition which prompted the grand scheme of a new station at the mouth of the Columbia. And this scheme, though it failed, was not without great national results. Its misfortunes were chronicled by the pen of Irving, and in his pages the story of the crew murdered, and the ship plundered and burned, was recorded among the tragedies of commerce.
Mr. Astor lived to old age, and his life was one of few changes. From his humble shop in Little Dock street (now Water street near Coenties Slip) he removed his place of business to Liberty street, (Number 71,) and subsequently to Broadway. His longest place of abode was Number 223 Broadway, now a part of the site of the Astor House, whence, after a residence in Hoboken, he removed up-town to a block in Broadway near Prince street. Here he remained until death, but he lived long enough to see the progress of the city covering his lands with dwellings, and bequeathed to his son the largest estate in America. Mr. Astor had a literary taste, and was fond of book-men. He gave Fitz-Green Halleck a snug and profitable clerkship, and on the death of the capitalist, William B. Astor presented to the poet the sum of ten thousand dollars. Mr. Astor also sought the acquaintance of Washington Irving on the return of that distinguished gentleman from Europe, and it was at his especial request that the Astoria was written. The friendship between these two distinguished men continued until death, when it was found that Mr. Irving had been appointed one of the executors of the will. The fees connected with this office could not have been less than one hundred thousand dollars, and the executors (six in number) at one time received ten thousand dollars apiece.
Mr. Astor's project of the library was conceived long before his death, and he had Dr. Cogswell for several years engaged in the collection of books for this purpose. The full provisions, however, were not known until the reading of the will developed the plan and funds. The plan was not carried out in detail, but was left to the judgment of the trustees, who modified it considerably, making an institution for reference instead of a mere circulating library.
To the original bequest Mr. William B. Astor has since added a large conveyance of real estate, and the institution is nearly double its original size. Speaking of Mr. William B. Astor, we may be led to a few references of a personal nature. As the ordinary street-passenger is traversing Prince street, he is not likely to be struck by any of its surroundings. The street itself is but of third-rate character, and the houses are but of a common stamp. Near Broadway, however, one may notice a small brick office, neatly built, of one story, with gable to the street, but with doors and windows closed, and the whole appearance one of security. Near the door may be seen a little sign which reads thus: 'Entrance next door: office hours from nine to three.' The next door, to which we are referred, is a plain three-story brick dwelling, with no name on the door, and might be taken for the residence of some well-to-do old-fashioned family. Hence one is quite startled to find that this is the headquarters of the chief capitalist of America. Entering the street-door, one will find himself in a small vestibule, neatly floored with checkered oil-cloth, and opening a door on his left, he will enter a well-lighted front-room, destitute of any furniture but a counting-house desk and a few chairs. At this desk stands an accountant (or perhaps two) working at a set of books, and evidently enjoying an easy berth. He will answer all ordinary inquiries, will do the duty of refusing charitable demands, and will attend to any thing in the ordinary run of business; but if one has any thing special on hand, he will point to a door opening into a rear office. This apartment is of moderate size and of simple furniture. On the table are a few books, and on opening one of them, which appears well thumbed, it will be found to contain maps of plots of city property, carefully and elegantly executed, and embracing the boundaries of an enormous estate. Seated by the table may generally be seen a stout-built man with large and unattractive features, and upon the whole an ordinary face. He is plainly dressed, and has a somewhat care-worn look, and appears to be fifty or sixty years of age. One naturally feels (that is, if he be a poor man) that it is quite a rare thing to address a capitalist, and especially when that capitalist is the representative, say of twenty-five millions of dollars. Such, at least, was our experience at our first interview with William B. Astor.