A Pivotal Day

It was Palm Sunday in Waldorf in the spring of 1777. A long line of boys and girls walked in procession down the village street toward the Protestant Church. The girls were in white, and the boys in their best suits. Above their heads, birds were singing, and within the fence palings one could see early spring blossoms, in the flower gardens for which the village was famous.

John Jacob Astor walked in the boys' column till they reached the church door, and disappeared under the entrance, which read: "This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven." John Jacob, in common with the other young people confirmed that day, had been taught to read and write, to cipher as far as the "Rule of Three," to learn the catechism by heart, and sing the church hymns,—according to the mandates of Valentine Jeune, their school teacher,—"so that the windows should rattle." In all these accomplishments the boy was proficient, and his teacher felt a pardonable pride in him, not only in the examination which took place within the church that morning, but also in those studies which did not come under the Rev. John Philip Steiner's eye.

After the children had all been examined, the rite of confirmation was administered, and they partook of their first communion. It was a momentous occasion for all these young people. It meant the end of school life for many of them, and the beginning of larger things. As they came out into the noon sunshine after it was all over, one could see in their faces mingled relief and awe. Their fourteen-year-old mile-stone was passed, and in some of their countenances there was a look of eager expectancy toward the future. John Jacob's face held no such hopeful expression as he moved forward among the rest. When he had turned about, one saw that he was a stout, sinewy lad, with a well-developed forehead and deep-set eyes, and a firmness about the mouth and chin which balanced the patience in his glance. He also had his boyish dreams, but they were unlikely of fulfillment, so this time of elation to others, was but one more day of endurance to him.

Confirmation Day always closed with festivity, and in the gathering of kinsfolk, many plans were laid for the future of the young graduates. Part of the boys and girls were to become servants; others were to be apprenticed; while a very few left the village school for seats of broader learning.

Becoming an apprentice in a German town of those days, was like sending a boy to an individual tutor of mechanics. The expense of his education in his chosen field, or that which his parents had selected for him, varied according to the occupation. A master-carpenter or blacksmith charged his apprentice a premium of sixty or seventy dollars to teach him his trade, a cabinet-maker asked one hundred, and it was useless for a boy to aspire to be the maker of musical instruments or clocks, unless his father was able, and willing, to pay at least two hundred dollars for his education in this special callling.

This Palm Sunday saw John Jacob's final appeal to his father, in regard to his start in life. He did not want to be a servant or a common laborer, and his father had laid up no money toward apprenticing his youngest son to some master mechanic. In fact, Jacob Astor, John Jacob's father, had no wish for his son to follow any business but his own, which was that of a butcher. He needed the boy, especially in the approaching harvest, and it was not his way to make plans far ahead. To John Jacob 's entreaties, he turned a deaf ear, and baffled and disappointed, the lad felt himself condemned to an occupation he hated, without present remuneration, or future hope.

John Jacob's life during his first thirteen years had held much that was jarring and disappointing, and only a very scant amount of the usual joys of boyhood. Jacob Astor, as has been said, was a butcher by trade, and felt it to be a business that any man might embrace with content, and even self-congratulation. As it was carried on in Waldorf, it contained certain emoluments and pleasurable accompaniments dear to the elder Astor's jovial soul. That which it lacked, he did not concern himself about. His happy-go-lucky disposition did not trouble itself unduly with the vicissitudes of life. Fresh meat was considered a luxury in Waldorf and the vicinity. It was a custom for every farmer to provide a fatted pig or calf for the harvesting. As this joyful season approached, the village butcher traveled about the neighborhood, stopping a day or two at each farm to kill the waiting stock, and convert the meat into appetizing sausages, bacon, and salted beef. A reputation for ability in this direction, made the butcher a welcome guest at the merry-making's, and Jacob Astor's life, through the six weeks of harvesting, was full of a certain type of homage, and successive weeks of conviviality.

By far the larger part of the year, however, followed the harvest, and during this time Jacob Astor's business dropped to its lowest ebb, and the larder at home corresponded with the decline in trade. These seasons of scarcity were relieved, occasionally, by the great church days—Christmas, Palm Sunday, Easter, baptisms and weddings,—or when a birthday overtook a member of some family, prosperous enough to make a feast, and call in Jacob Astor's services. John Jacob had accompanied his father since he was a child, on these annual tours through the neighborhood, but did not find in them an inspiring life work.

Still, childhood under the most adverse conditions has many alleviations. There had been three other boys in the Astor household, George, Henry, and John Melchior, and while the four boys were home, and their mother lived, they all found times of enjoyment, and loyal interest in their native home and surroundings.

But each of the older ones, in turn, had left his village home to seek his fortune. The eldest boy was the first to go. He had made his way to London, where he had an uncle engaged in the business of making musical instruments, under the firm name of Astor and Broadhead. Henry Astor went next, across the ocean to the "New Land" beyond the sea, and lastly John Melchior found employment in Germany. Only little John Jacob was left, and he, as well as the older three, had inherited his mother's industrious and economical ways, and longed to use them in some profitable calling.

That the mother of John Jacob was possessed of a strong character, marked capability, and sterling virtues, was amply shown in the starting of four sons, in the midst of untoward surroundings, toward successful and honorable manhood.