name down to posterity as a national benefactor, as to increase his business; but the limits of this article forbid more than a mere glance at the subject.
A company was formed, at the head of which stood Mr. Astor, and an elaborate and carefully-arranged plan of operations prepared. Two expeditions were dispatched to the mouth of the Columbia, one by land and the other by sea. Many hardships were encountered, but the foundation of a settlement was successfully made on the Columbia. In spite of the war with England (1812–15), which now occurred, the enterprise would have been successful had Mr. Astor's positive instructions been obeyed. They were utterly disregarded, however, and his partners and agents not only betrayed him in every instance, but sold his property to a rival British company for a mere trifle. His pecuniary loss was over a million of dollars, and his disappointment bitter beyond expression. When the enterprise was on the point of failure, and while he was still chafing at the conduct of his treacherous subordinates, he wrote to Mr. Hunt, the most faithful of all his agents: "Were I on the spot, and, had the management of affairs, I would defy them all; but as it is, every thing depends on you and your friends about you. Our enterprise is grand, and deserves success, and I hope in God it will meet it. If my object was merely gain of money, I should say, think whether it is best to save what we can, and abandon the place; but the very idea is like a dagger to my heart." When the news of the final betrayal reached him, he wrote to the same gentleman: "Had our place and property been fairly captured, I should have preferred it; I should not feel as if I were disgraced."
Mr. Astor remained in active business for fifty years. During that entire period he scarcely committed an error of judgment which led to a loss in business. He was thorough master of every thing pertaining to his affairs, and his strength and accuracy of judgment was remarkable. The particulars of his transactions were indelibly impressed upon his mind. His intellect was vigorous and quick, and he grasped a subject with a readiness which seemed like intuition. He was always careful of the present, but he loved to undertake enterprises which extended far into the future. He was a man of the utmost punctuality in all his habits. He rose early, and, until he was fifty-five years old, was always in his office before seven o'clock. His capacity for work was very great, so that, in spite of his heavy labors, he was always able to leave his office by two o'clock, while many of his associates, who really did less than he, were compelled to remain in their counting-rooms until four or five. He was noted for his unvarying calmness, which he doubtless owed to his German temperament. In the midst of disaster and loss he was cooler and more cheerful than ever. To those who chafed at their troubles, he would say, smilingly, "Keep quiet; keep cool." This was his safeguard.
He was a devoted citizen of the United States, and, though he took no active interest in politics, was a steady supporter of the Whig party. Henry Clay was his personal friend, and his last donation to any political cause was a subscription of fifteen hundred dollars to aid the election of his old friend to the Presidency.
About the year 1830, Mr. Astor, now the possessor of millions, began to withdraw from active business, confining his efforts chiefly to such investments as the management of his immense estate made necessary. He now put into execution an enterprise which he had long cherished. When a poor stranger in the city, he had once stopped in Broadway to notice a row of buildings which had just been erected, and which were considered the finest in the street, and had then made a vow that he would one day build a larger and finer house than any in Broadway. He now set to work to carry out the plan he had cherished ever since. He owned the entire block on Broadway, between Vesey and Barclay streets, with the exception of one house, which was the property of a Mr. Coster, a merchant who had amassed a large fortune and retired from business. Mr. Astor made him many offers for his house, but the old gentleman was unwilling to remove. Mr. Astor offered him the full value of his house, which was thirty thousand dollars, and increased the bid to forty thousand, but Mr. Coster was obstinate. At length Mr. Astor, in despair, was compelled to reveal his plan to his neighbor.
"I want to build a hotel," said he. "I have got all the other lots. Now name your own price."
Mr. Coster replied that he would sell for sixty thousand dollars if his wife would consent, and that Mr. Astor could see her the next morning. Mr. Astor was punctual to the appointment, and his offer was accepted by the good lady, who said to him, condescendingly, "I don't want to sell the house, but we are such old friends that I am willing for your sake."
Mr. Astor used to remark with great glee that any one could afford to exhibit such condescension after receiving double the value of a piece of property.
Having got possession of the entire block, he commenced the demolition of the old buildings, and on their site reared the Astor House, then the largest and most elegant hotel in the country. This building, when completed, he gave to his eldest son, William B. Astor.
In 1832, Mr. Astor sailed for Europe to visit one of his daughters, who had married a nobleman, and remained abroad until 1835. In that year he was compelled to return home by the action of General Jackson with regard to the Bank of the United States. "He reached Havre," says Mr. Parton, "when the ship, on the point of sailing, had every stateroom engaged, but he was so anxious to get home, that the captain, who had commanded ships for him in former years, gave up to him his own stateroom. Head winds and boisterous seas kept the vessel beating about and tossing in the channel for many days. The great man was very sick, and still more alarmed. At length, being persuaded that he should not survive the voyage, he asked the captain to run in and set him ashore on the coast of England. The captain dissuaded him. The old man urged his request at every opportunity, and said, at last, 'I give you tousand dollars to put me aboard a pilot boat.' He was so vehement and importunate, that one day the captain, worried out of all patience, promised him that if he did not get out of the channel before next morning, he would run in and put him ashore. It happened that the wind changed in the afternoon and wafted the ship into the broad ocean. But the troubles of the sea-sick millionaire had only just begun. A heavy gale of some days' duration blew the vessel along the western coast of Ireland. Mr. Astor, now thoroughly panic-stricken, offered the captain ten thousand dollars if he would put him ashore anywhere on the wild and rocky coast of the Emerald Isle. In vain the captain remonstrated. In vain he reminded the old gentleman of the danger of forfeiting his insurance.
"'Insurance!' exclaimed Astor, 'can't I insure your ship my self?'
"In vain the captain mentioned the rights of the other passengers. In vain he described the solitary and rock-bound coast, and detailed the dangers and difficulties which attended its approach. Nothing would appease him. He said he would take all the responsibility, brave all the perils, endure all the consequences, only let him once more feel the firm ground under his feet. The gale having abated, the captain yielded to his entreaties, and engaged, if the other passengers would consent to the delay, to stand in, and put him ashore. Mr. Astor went into the cabin, and proceeded to write what was expected to be a draft for ten thousand dollars in favor of the owners of the ship on his agent in New York. He handed to the captain the result of his efforts. It was a paper covered with writing that was totally illegible.
"'What is this?' asked the captain.
"'A draft upon my son for ten thousand dollars,' was the reply.
"'But no one can read it.'
"'O yes, my son will know what it is. My hand trembles so that I can not write any better.'
"'But,' said the captain, 'you can at least write your name. I am acting for the owners of the ship, and I can not risk their property for a piece of paper that no one can read. Let one of the gentlemen draw up a draft in proper form; you sign it, and I will put you ashore.'
"The old gentleman would not consent to this mode of proceeding, and the affair was dropped."
During the last twenty years of his life Mr. Astor lived in the retirement of his family, leaving even the greater part of the management of
