CORNELIUS VANDERBILT.
Staten Island lies in the beautiful bay of New York, seven miles distant
from the great city. Its lofty heights shut in the snug anchorage of the
inner bay, and protect it from the rude storms which howl along the
coast. It lies full in sight of the city, and is one of the most
beautiful and attractive of its suburbs. The commanding heights and
embowered shores are covered with villas and cottages, and afford a
pleasant and convenient summer resort for the people of New York. It now
contains a large and flourishing population, and maintains a speedy and
constant communication with the metropolis by means of steam
ferry-boats, the total travel on which sometimes reaches as many as ten
or twelve thousand passengers per day.
Seventy-six years ago, Staten Island was a mere country settlement, and
its communications with the city were maintained by means of a few
sail-boats, which made one trip each way per day.
One of these boats was owned and navigated by Cornelius Vanderbilt, a
thriving farmer, who owned a small but well cultivated estate on Staten
Island, near the present Quarantine Grounds. He was a man of exemplary
character, great industry, and was generally regarded as one of the most
prudent and reliable men on the island. Having a considerable amount of
produce to sell in the city, he purchased a boat of his own for the
purpose of transporting it thither. Frequently, residents of the island
would secure passage in this boat to the city in the morning, and return
with it in the evening. He realized a considerable sum of money in this
way, and finally ran his boat regularly between the island and the city.
This was the beginning of the New York and Staten Island Ferry. Mr.
Vanderbilt, by close application to his farm and boat, soon acquired a
property, which, though small, was sufficient to enable him to maintain
his family independently. His wife was a woman of more than usual
character, and aided him nobly in making his way in the world.
This admirable couple were blessed with nine children. The oldest of
these, CORNELIUS, the subject of this sketch, was born at the old
farm-house on Staten Island, on the 27th of May, 1794. He was a healthy,
active boy, fond of all manner of out-door sports, and manifesting an
unusual repugnance to the confinement and labors of the school-room. He
has since declared that the only books he remembers using at school were
the New Testament and the spelling-book. The result was, that he merely
learned to read, write, and cipher, and that imperfectly. He was
passionately fond of the water, and was never so well pleased as when
his father allowed him to assist in sailing his boat. He was also a
famous horseman from his earliest childhood, and even now recalls with
evident pride the fact that when but six years old he rode a race-horse
at full speed. When he set himself to accomplish any thing, he was not,
like most boys, deterred by the difficulties of his undertaking, but
persevered until success crowned his efforts. So early did he establish
his reputation for overcoming obstacles, that his boyish friends learned
to regard any task which he undertook as already virtually performed.
When he was only twelve years old his father contracted to remove the
cargo from a ship which had gone ashore near Sandy Hook, and to convey
it to New York. The lighters which were to carry the goods to the city
could not reach the ship, and it was necessary to haul the cargo,
transported in wagons, across the sands from the vessel to them. In
spite of his tender age, little Cornelius was placed by his father in
charge of the undertaking, which he accomplished promptly and
successfully. He loaded his lighters, sent them up to New York, and then
started for home with his wagons. Upon reaching South Amboy, where he
was to cross over to Staten Island, he found himself, with his wagons,
horses, and men, without any money to pay his ferriage across to the
island. The ferriage would amount to six dollars, and how he was to
raise this sum he was, for a time, at a loss to determine. Finally, he
went to the keeper of the tavern, to whom he was a stranger, and asked
for the loan of six dollars, offering to leave one of his horses as a
pledge for the money, which he promised to return within two days. The
tavern-keeper was so well pleased with the boy's energy, that he loaned
him the money, and the party crossed over to Staten Island. The pawned
horse was promptly redeemed.
Young Vanderbilt was always anxious to become a sailor, and, as he
approached his seventeenth year, he determined to begin life as a
boatman in the harbor of New York. On the 1st of May, 1810, he informed
his mother of his determination, and asked her to lend him one hundred
dollars to buy a boat.
The good lady had always opposed her son's wish to go to sea, and
regarded this new scheme as equally hair-brained. As a means of
discouraging him, she told him if he would plow, harrow, and plant with
corn a certain ten-acre lot belonging to the farm, by the twenty-seventh
of that month, on which day he would be seventeen years old, she would
lend him the money. The field was the worst in the whole farm; it was
rough, hard, and stony; but by the appointed time the work was done, and
well done, and the boy claimed and received his money. He hurried off to
a neighboring village, and bought his boat, in which he set out for
home. He had not gone far, however, when the boat struck a sunken wreck,
and filled so rapidly that the boy had barely time to get into shoal
water before it sank.
[Illustration: VANDERBILT EARNING HIS FIRST HUNDRED DOLLARS.]
"Undismayed at this mishap," says Mr. Parton, from whose graphic memoir
the leading incidents of this sketch are taken, "he began his new
career. His success, as we have intimated, was speedy and great. He made
a thousand dollars during each of the next three summers. Often he
worked all night; but he was never absent from his post by day, and he
soon had the cream of the boating business of the port.
"At that day parents claimed the services and earnings of their children
till they were twenty-one. In other words, families made common cause
against the common enemy, Want. The arrangement between this young
boatman and his parents was, that he should give them all his day
earnings and half his night earnings. He fulfilled his engagement
faithfully until his parents released him from it, and with his own half
of his earnings by night, he bought all his clothes. He had forty
competitors in the business, who, being all grown men, could dispose of
their gains as they chose; but of all the forty, he alone has emerged to
prosperity and distinction. Why was this? There were several reasons. He
soon became the best boatman in the port. He attended to his business
more regularly and strictly than any other. He had no vices. His
comrades spent at night much of what they earned by day, and when the
winter suspended their business, instead of living on their last
summer's savings, they were obliged to lay up debts for the next
summer's gains to discharge. In those three years of willing servitude
to his parents, Cornelius Vanderbilt added to the family's common stock
of wealth, and gained for himself three things--a perfect knowledge of
his business, habits of industry and self-control, and the best boat in
the harbor."
During the War of 1812, young Vanderbilt was kept very busy. All the
harbor defenses were fully manned, and a number of war vessels were in
port all the time. The travel between these and the city was very great,
and boatmen were in demand.
In September, 1813, a British fleet attempted to run past Fort Richmond,
during a heavy gale. The commanding officer was anxious to send to New
York for reinforcements, but it was blowing so hard that none of the old
boatmen were willing to venture upon the bay. They all declared that if
the voyage could be made at all, Cornelius Vanderbilt was the only man
who could make it. The commandant at once sent for the young man, who,
upon learning the urgency of the case, expressed his belief that he
could carry the messengers to the city. "But," said he, "I shall have to
carry them part of the way under water." He set out with the messengers,
and in an hour landed them safe, but drenched through, at the foot of
Whitehall Street, which was then the landing place of all the boatmen of
the harbor.
He was now so prosperous in his calling that he determined to marry. He
had wooed and won the heart of Sophia Johnson, the daughter of a
neighbor, and he now asked his parents' consent to his marriage, and
also requested them to allow him to retain his own earnings, in order
that he might be able to support a wife. Both of his petitions received
the approval of his parents, and in the winter of 1813 he was married.
His wife was a woman of unusual personal beauty and strength of
character, and proved the best of partners. He has often declared since
that he owed his success in life as much to her counsel and assistance
as to his own efforts.
In the spring of 1814, it became known in America that the British were
fitting out a formidable military and naval expedition for the purpose
of attacking one of the Atlantic ports of the United States. The whole
coast was on the lookout, and, as it was feared that the blow would be
struck at New York, every precaution was taken to be ready. The militia
were called into service for three months, under a heavy penalty for
refusing to obey the call. The term of service thus marked out covered
the most prosperous season of the boatmen, and made the call fall
particularly hard upon them. About this time, an advertisement was
inserted in the city journals by the Commissary-General of the army,
calling for bids from boatmen for the purpose of conveying provisions
from New York to the various military posts in the vicinity. The labor
was to be performed during the three months for which the militia were
called out, and the contractor was to be exempted from all military duty
during that time. Bids poured in from the boatmen, who offered to do the
work at ridiculously low figures--the chief object of each one being to
secure the exemption.
Young Vanderbilt, knowing that the work could not be done at the rates
at which his comrades offered to perform it, at first decided not to bid
for it, but at length--and more to please his father than because he
expected to succeed--offered to transport the provisions at a price
which would enable him to be sure of doing it well and thoroughly. He
felt so little hope of success that he did not even trouble himself to
go to the office of the Commissary on the day of the awarding of the
contract, until he learned from his companions that all their efforts to
secure it had been ineffectual. Then he called on the Commissary, merely
through curiosity, to learn the name of the fortunate man, and to his
utter astonishment was told that the contract had been awarded to
himself. The Government was satisfied, from his sensible offer, that he
would do the business thoroughly, and this the Commissary assured him
was the reason why they had selected him.
There were six posts to be supplied--Harlem, Hell Gate, Ward's Island,
the Narrows, and one other in the harbor, each of which was to be
furnished with one load per week. The young contractor made arrangements
to have a daily load of stores ready for him each evening at six
o'clock, and thus performed all the duties of his contract at night,
which left him free to attend to his boating during the day. He never
failed to make a single delivery of stores, or to be absent from his
post on the beach at Whitehall one single day during the whole three
months. He was often without sleep, and performed an immense amount of
labor during this period; but his indomitable energy and powerful
physical organization carried him safely through it all.
He made a great deal of money that summer, and with his earnings built a
splendid little schooner, which he named the "Dread." In 1815, in
connection with his brother-in-law, Captain De Forrest, he built a fine
schooner, called the "Charlotte," for the coasting service. She was
celebrated for the beauty of her model and her great speed. He continued
to ply his boat in the harbor during the summer, but in the fall and
winter made voyages along the coast, often as far south as Charleston.
During the three years succeeding the termination of the war he saved
nine thousand dollars in cash, and built two or three small vessels.
This was his condition in 1818.
By this time it had become demonstrated to his satisfaction that the new
system of steamboats was a success, and was destined to come into
general use at no very distant day. He therefore determined to identify
himself with it at once, and thereby secure the benefits which he felt
sure would result from a prompt connection with it. Accordingly, in
1818, to the surprise and dismay of his friends, he gave up his
flourishing business, in order to accept the captaincy of a steamboat
which was offered him by Mr. Thomas Gibbons. The salary attached to this
position was one thousand dollars, and Captain Vanderbilt's friends
frankly told him that he was very foolish in abandoning a lucrative
business for so insignificant a sum. Turning a deaf ear to their
remonstrances, however, he entered promptly upon the duties of his new
career, and was given command of a steamboat plying between New York and
New Brunswick.
Passengers to Philadelphia, at that day, were transported by steamer
from New York to New Brunswick, where they remained all night. The next
morning they took the stage for Trenton, from which they were conveyed
by steamer to Philadelphia. The hotel at New Brunswick was a miserable
affair, and had never paid expenses. When Captain Vanderbilt took
command of the steamer, he was offered the hotel rent free, and accepted
the offer. He placed the house in charge of his wife, under whose
vigorous administration it soon acquired a popularity which was of the
greatest benefit to the line.
For seven years he was harassed and hampered by the hostility of the
State of New York, which had granted to Fulton and Livingston the sole
right to navigate New York waters by steam. Thomas Gibbons believed this
law to be unconstitutional, and ran his boats in defiance of it. The
authorities of the State resented his disregard of their monopoly, and a
long and vexatious warfare sprang up between them, which was ended only
in 1824, by the decision of the Supreme Court of the United States in
favor of Mr. Gibbons.
As a means of crippling Gibbons, the New York authorities at one time
determined to arrest Vanderbilt and his crew; but the wary captain was
too cunning for them. He would land his crew in Jersey City, and take
charge of the engine himself, while a lady managed the helm. In this way
he approached the wharf at New York, landed his passengers, and took on
more. As soon as he had made his boat fast, he concealed himself in the
hold until the moment of his departure. As soon as he appeared on deck,
the Sheriff's officer (who was changed every day to avoid recognition)
would approach him with a warrant for his arrest. His reply was an
order to let go the line. The officer, unwilling to be carried off to
New Jersey, where he was threatened with imprisonment in the
penitentiary for interfering with the steamer, would at once jump
ashore, or beg to be landed. This was kept up for two months, but the
captain successfully baffled his enemies during the whole of that
period. The opponents of Mr. Gibbons offered a larger and better boat
than the one he commanded if he would enter their service, but he firmly
declined all their offers, avowing his determination to remain with Mr.
Gibbons until the difficulty was settled.
After the decision of the Supreme Court placed Mr. Gibbons in the full
enjoyment of his rights, Captain Vanderbilt was allowed to manage the
line in his own way, and conducted it with so much skill and vigor that
it paid its owner an annual profit of forty thousand dollars. Mr.
Gibbons offered to increase his salary to five thousand dollars, but he
refused to accept the offer.
"I did it on principle," he said, afterward. "The other captains had but
one thousand, and they were already jealous enough of me. Besides, I
never cared for money. All I ever cared for was to carry my point."
[Illustration: VANDERBILT CARRYING OFF THE SHERIFF.]
In 1829 he determined to leave the service of Mr. Gibbons, with whom he
had been connected for eleven years. He was thirty-five years old, and
had saved thirty thousand dollars. He resolved to build a steamer of his
own, and command her himself, and accordingly made known his intention
to his employer. Mr. Gibbons at once declared that he could not carry on
the line without his assistance, and told him he might make his own
terms if he would stay with him. Captain Vanderbilt had formed his
decision after much thought, and being satisfied that he was doing
right, he persisted in his determination to set up for himself. Mr.
Gibbons then offered to sell him the line on the spot, and to take his
pay as the money should be earned. It was a splendid offer, but it was
firmly and gratefully refused. The captain knew the men among whom he
would be thrown, and that they could never act together harmoniously. He
believed his own ideas to be the best, and wished to be free to carry
them out.
After leaving Mr. Gibbons he built a small steamer, called the
"Caroline," which he commanded himself. In a few years he was the owner
of several other small steamers plying between New York and the
neighboring towns. He made slow progress at first, for he had strong
opposition to overcome. The steamboat interest was in the hands of
powerful companies, backed by immense capital, and these companies were
not disposed to tolerate the interference of any new-comer. They met
their match in all cases, however, for Vanderbilt inaugurated so sharp a
business opposition that the best of them were forced to compromise with
him. These troubles were very annoying to him, and cost him nearly every
dollar he was worth, but he persevered, and at length "carried his
point."
From that time he made his way gradually in his business, until he rose
to the head of the steamboat interest of the United States. He has owned
or been interested in one hundred steam vessels, and has been
instrumental in a greater degree than any other man in bringing down the
tariff of steamboat fares. He never builds a vessel without giving his
personal superintendence to every detail, so that all his various craft
have been models of their kind. He selects his officers with the
greatest care, pays them liberal salaries, and, as long as they do their
duty, sustains them against all outside interference or intrigue. In
this way he inspires them with zeal, and the result is that he has never
lost a vessel by fire, explosion, or wreck.
He built the famous steamer "North Star," and made a triumphal cruise
in her to the Old World. It is said that he was at one time very anxious
to divide the business of the ocean with the Collins Line of steamers.
When the "Arctic" was lost he applied to Mr. Collins to allow his
steamer to run in her place. He promised to make no claim for the mail
subsidy which Collins received, and to take the vessel off as soon as
Collins could build another to take her place. Mr. Collins was afraid to
let Mr. Vanderbilt get any hold on the foreign trade of the country, and
not only refused his request, but did so in a manner which roused the
anger of the veteran, who thereupon told Mr. Collins that he would run
his line off the ocean if it took his whole life and entire fortune to
do it. He kept his word. He at once offered the Government to carry the
mails more promptly and regularly than had ever been done before, and to
do this for a term of years without asking one single cent as subsidy.
It was well known that he was perfectly able to do what he promised, and
he pressed the matter upon the Government so vigorously that he was
successful. The subsidy to Collins was withdrawn, and the magnificent
line soon fell to pieces in consequence of the bankruptcy of its owner,
who might have averted his fate by the exercise of a little liberality.
Of late years, Mr. Vanderbilt has been withdrawing his money from ships
and steamers, and investing it in railroads and iron works. Success has
attended him in all his ventures, and he is to-day worth over thirty
millions of dollars. He controls the Hudson River, Harlem, and New York
Central Roads, and is largely interested in many others. He is all
powerful in the stock market, and can move it as he will.
A few years ago he wished to consolidate the Hudson River and Harlem
Railroads, and when the scheme was presented before the Legislature of
New York, secured a sufficient number of votes to insure the passage of
the bill authorizing the consolidation. Before the bill was called up on
its final passage, however, he learned from a trustworthy source that
the members of the Legislature who had promised to vote for the bill
were determined to vote against it, with the hope of ruining him. The
stock of Harlem Road was then selling very high, in consequence of the
expected consolidation. The defeat of the bill would, of course, cause
it to fall immediately. The unprincipled legislators at once commenced a
shrewd game. They sold Harlem right and left, to be delivered at a
future day, and found plenty of purchasers. They let their friends into
the secret, and there was soon a great deal of "selling 'short'" in this
stock.[A] Commodore Vanderbilt, although indignant at the treachery of
which he was to be made the victim, held his peace. He went into the
market quietly, with all the funds he could raise, purchased every
dollar's worth of Harlem stock he could lay his hands on, and locked it
up in his safe. When the bill came before the Legislature on its final
passage, the members who had pledged themselves to vote for it voted
against it, and it was rejected.
[Footnote A: For the benefit of the uninitiated reader, we will explain
the "game" more clearly. Harlem stock was selling at a high price, in
consequence of the expected consolidation. Those who sold "short" at
this time sold at the market price, which, as we have said, was high. By
engaging to deliver at some future day, they expected to be able to buy
the stock for little or nothing after the defeat of the bill, and then
to demand for it the price for which they had sold it in the first
place. Such a transaction was infamous, but would have enabled those
engaged in it to realize immense sums by the difference in the price of
the stock.]
The speculators were jubilant. They were sure that the defeat of the
bill would bring down "Harlem" with a rush. To their astonishment,
however, "Harlem" did not fall. It remained stationary the first day,
and then, to their dismay, began to rise steadily. Those to whom they
had sold demanded the delivery of the stock, but the speculators found
it impossible to buy it. There was none in the market at any price.
Being unable to deliver stock, they were forced to pay its equivalent in
money, and the result was, that all who were engaged in the infamous
scheme were ruined. One of the shrewdest operators in New York lost over
two hundred thousand dollars. He refused to pay, but his name was at
once stricken from the list of stock-brokers. This brought him to terms,
and he made good his contracts. Vanderbilt made enough money out of this
effort to crush him to pay for all the stock he owned in the Harlem
Road.
During the rebellion, Commodore Vanderbilt was one of the stanchest
supporters of the Government. Early in the struggle he equipped his
splendid steamer, the "Vanderbilt," as a man-of-war, and offered her to
the Navy Department at a fair price. He found that, in order to sell the
vessel, he would have to pay a percentage of the price received for her
to certain parties who stood between the Government and the purchase,
and levied black mail upon every ship the Government bought. Indignant
and disgusted, he withdrew his ship, and declared she was not for sale.
Then, satisfying himself that she was in perfect condition, he presented
her to the Navy Department _as a free gift to the nation_.
Says a recent writer, whose fondness for courtly similes the reader must
pardon, for the sake of the information he imparts: "No man is felt in
Wall Street more than Commodore Vanderbilt, yet he is seldom seen there.
All of his business is done in his office in Fourth Street. Here his
brokers meet him, receive their orders, and give reports. Here the plans
are laid that shake the street, and Wall Street trembles at the foot of
an invisible autocrat. If the reader would care to visit the court of
that great railroad king, whose name has become the terror of Wall
Street, he may accompany us to a plain brick residence in Fourth Street,
near Broadway, and distant from Wall Street nearly two miles. No sign
indicates its imperial occupant, except that the upper story being
occupied as a millinery establishment bears a legend of that character.
However, as we enter the hall, we notice the word 'office,' and open the
door thus inscribed. Here we see a table, a few chairs, and a desk, at
which a solitary clerk of middle age is standing at work.
"The walls are bare, with the exception of a few pictures of those
steamships which originated the title of 'Commodore,' This is the
ante-chamber, and a pair of folding doors screen the king from vulgar
gaze. He is closeted with his marshals, and this privy council will last
an hour or so. One after the other they depart, and before three o'clock
the effect of this council will not only be felt in Wall Street, but
will be flashed over the Union. At length you are permitted to enter.
The folding door is opened, and you behold an office as plain in
appearance as the one just described. It contains a few arm-chairs and a
long business-table, thrown flush before you, on the opposite side of
which sits a large man, with his face fronting you. He is writing, and
his eyes are fixed on the paper, so that you have a moment to note the
dignity of frame and the vast development of brain. In a few minutes the
countenance raises, and you meet its expansive and penetrating glance.
"You face the king. He smiles in a pleasant and whole-souled manner, and
in a moment puts you at ease. No stiffness nor formality here. His
kingship is in himself, not in etiquette. He is ready for a pleasantry,
and will initiate one if it comes in the line of conversation. You note
those wonderful eyes, bright and piercing, and so large and rich that
one is fascinated, and does not know how to stop gazing into them. Such
is the appearance of the railway king, and you take your leave,
conscious that some men, as Shakespeare says, 'are born great.' Indeed,
we know a man who would rather give five dollars to sit and look at
Commodore Vanderbilt for an hour than to see any other sight in this
city. Next door to the office is a building of brown stone, with
spacious doors and a roadway. This is the Commodore's stable, where are
some of the finest horses in the country.
"Every afternoon he is wont to take an airing, and after tea a game of
whist affords an evening amusement. The Commodore is simple in his
manners and habits. He is a representative of a former age, when men
lived less artificially than at the present time, and when there was
more happiness and less show. As for business, it is his nature. He can
not help being king. He is but developing himself, and any other mode of
life would be painful. He has in the Central afforded a third wonder,
the Harlem and the Hudson River being the first and second, and if he
gets the Erie he will soon show the world another wonder. On Sundays the
Commodore attends Dr. Hutton's church on Washington Square, and here his
tall and dignified form may be seen, head and shoulders above the rest
of the congregation. He is a friend of the pastor, who takes a deep
interest in his welfare, and we hope will meet him in a better world. He
stood by the Commodore's side when his wife was laid in the tomb, and
cheered him in that dark and trying hour. Among his more recent works is
the completing of a tomb in the old Moravian burial-ground in Staten
Island. The subterranean chamber is about thirty feet square, and is
surmounted by a lofty shaft, and a statue of grief adds a peculiar
finish to the spot. The cemetery is on an eminence, from which one gets
a fine view of the ocean, dotted with ships."
Commodore Vanderbilt's early passion for horses still survives, and his
stable contains some of the finest in the world. Nothing pleases him so
well as to sit behind a fast team, with the reins in his hands, and fly
along the road with almost the speed of the wind.
He is extremely generous to his friends, and gives liberally to
charitable objects. He never puts his name to a subscription paper, but
his donations are none the less liberal for that. His old
acquaintances--especially those of his boyhood--find him a tender
friend, and many of them owe to his bounty the comforts which surround
their age.[A]
He is the father of thirteen children--nine daughters and four
sons--nearly all of whom are still living. A few years ago, at the
celebration of his golden wedding, over one hundred and forty of his
descendants and relatives assembled to congratulate him. He lost a
promising son during the war, and his wife died two years ago. Not long
since he married a second time. He is still one of the handsomest and
most imposing men in New York, and will doubtless live to see his
children's grandchildren.
[Footnote A: In July, 1870, Mr. Vanderbilt chanced to hear that the Rev.
Dr. Deems, of New York, was in want of a church. Admiring the energy
with which the reverend gentleman had built up his congregation in the
short space of three years, Mr. Vanderbilt quietly made up his mind that
he should not want in vain. Accordingly he bought the Mercer Street
Presbyterian Church, and made the Doctor a present of it, keeping him in
ignorance of his intention until he placed the title deeds in his hand.]