The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1865-02-03
Friday Morning, Feb. 8, 1855.
Stephen Girard.


alive, "old Girard,'' as the famous banker wa.
usually styled, a short, stout brisk old gentle
man, useo TO walk in his swift, awkward way
the streets OF the lower part of Philadelphia
Though everything abouG him indicated that
he had very little IN common with his fellow
citizens, he was the marked man OF the city
for more than generation. His aspect was
rather insignifcantl and quite unprepossessing
His dress was old-fashioned and shabby and
he wore the pig-tail, the white neck cloth, the
wide-brimmed hat, and the large skirted coat
Of the last century. He was bIin5 in one eye
and though his burly eyebrows gave some
character to his eountenance, 1t was curiously
devoid OF expression. He had also the absent
look of a man who either had no thoughts or
was absorbed in thought; and he shnffied
along on his enormous feet, looking neither
right nor feft. There was always a certain
look OF the old mariner about him, though he
had been fifty years an inhabitant Of the town.
When he rode, it was In the plainest, least
comfortable gig in Philadelphia, drawn BY an
ancient and ill-tormed horse, driven always by
the masters own hand ut d good pace. He
chose still TO live where he had lived for fifty
years, in Water street, close TO the wharves
IN small and inconVenient house, darkened
by tall store houses, amid the buslle, the noise
and the odors Of commerce.
His sole pleasure was to visit once day
little farm which he possessed afew miles out
of town, wnere he was won't to take off his
coat, roll up his shirt-sleeves and personally
labor in the field and In the barn, hoeidg corn.
pruning trees, tossing hay, and not disdaining
even to assist in butchering the animals which
he raised for market. 1t was no mere orna.
mental or experimental farm. He made itpay.
All OF its produce was carefully, nav scrupu-
lously husbanded, sold, recorded and account
ed tor. He loved his grapes, his pIums, his
pigs, and especially his rare breed of canary
birds; but the people Of Philadelphia had the
full benefit Of their inerease-st the highest
market rates. Many feared, many served, but
none loved, this singular and, lonely old man.
II therewas among the very few who habitu-
ally conversed with him, one who understood
and esteemed. him, there was but one and he
was man of such abounding charity, that,
like Uncle Tobey, if he had heard that the
Devil was hopelessiy damned, would have said,
81 am sorry for it." Never was there a person
more destitute than Girard of the qualities
which win the affection of others. His tenn
per was violent, his presence forbidding, his
usual manner ungracious, his will infexible,
his heart untender, his Imagination dead. He
was odious to many OF his lellow-citizens who
considered him the hardest and meanest of
men. he had lived among them for half a
century, but he was no more Philadelphian
In 1880 than in I776. He still spoke with a
Frehch accent, and accompanied his words
with French shrug and French gesticula-
tion- Surrounded with Christian churches
which he had helped to build he remained a
sturdy unbeliever, and possessed the complete
works Of only one man, Voltaire. s
( he made 1t point OF duty to labor of Sun
day, as good example to others. He made
no secret of the fact that he considered the
idleness Of Sundays, an injury to the people,
moral and economical. He would have open
ed his bank on Sundays, if any one would
have come to it. For his part he required no
rest and would have none. he never travel
led. He never attended public assemblies or
amusements. He had no affections to crafty,
no friends to visit, no curiosity to appease, no
tastes TO indulge. What be once said of him
sell appeared to be true, that he rose in the
morning with but a single object, and that was
to labor SO hard all day as to be able to sleep
all night. The world was absolutely nothing
to him but working place. He scorned and
secuted the idea that old men should cease to
labor, and should spend the evening Of their
days in tranquility. .No," he would say, "la-
bor is the price OF life, its happiness, its eve-
rything; to rest is to rust every man should
labor to the last hour OF his ability" Such
was Stephen Girard, the richest man who ey
er lived In Pennsylvania.
This is an unpleasant picture of a citizen OF
polite and amiable Philadelphia. 1t was in-
deed grim and dreary world, wherein should
prevail the principles OF Girard. But see
what this man has done for that city that loved
him notl Vast and imposing structures rise
on tho Schuylkill, wherein at this hour six
hundred poor orphan boys are fed, clothed
trained and taught, upon the income of the
enormous estate which he won by this entire
conservation to the work of accommodating
property.
In tbs ample grounds of Girard College
looking up at its five massive marble edifces
strolling ia its shady walks or by its verdant
play grUuads, or listening to the cheerful cries
of the boys at play, the mostsympathetic and
imaginative of men must pause before censHr-
ing the stsriIe aud unlovely lie of its founder
And if he should inquire closely into the
character and career of the man who willed
this great institution into being, he would
perhaps, be willing to admit that there was
room in the world for one Girard, though ii
were pity there should ever be another.
S1ch an inquiry would, perhaps. disclose
that Stephen Girard was endowed by nature
with great heart as well as a powerful mind
and that circumstances alone closed anC
hardened the one, cramped and perverted the
other. 1t is not improbable that he was one
of those unfortunate beings who desire to be
loved, but whose temper and appearance com
bine to repel it. The marble statue of him
which adorns the entrance to the principal
building, if it could speak, might say to us
"Living, you could not understand nor low
me; dead. compel at least, your respect.
Indeed, he used to say, when questioned as to
his career, "Wait till am dead my deeds
will show what | waa."-[North American
Review, January, 1705.