Chapter XLIII

During the last month of 1814, previous to the close of the war with England, every one was aware that when peace should be declared, all persons who had a large stock of goods on hand would suffer terribly, as prices would fall at once; but no one dreamed then of an early peace.

Sometime in January, 1815, a large lot of dry goods was advertised to be sold at auction, at the Tontine Coffee House, on a specified day, by Hones & Town, 61 Wall street, who were the auctioneers. The members of that great firm were John and Philip Hone and Charles Town.

I do not recollect the precise day when the sale was to come off, but it was a Saturday. There was a thousand cases of dry goods to be sold. Whether they had run the blockade safely, or been smuggled through Canada, I cannot say.

The goods were at a warehouse in Pine street. They had been exhibited a week. There were buyers here from Baltimore, Philadelphia, Boston, Albany, and every city around.

John Robins had examined the goods, and expected to buy largely, and had so marked his catalogue. He, Philip Hone, and Pelatiah Perit, now president of the Chamber of Commerce, all belonged to an Artillery Regiment stationed at the West Battery (now Castle Garden.) Philip was a corporal, but John Robins and Perit were only privates. Mr. Robins served in the artillery company nine years and all through the war, obtaining his warrant for one hundred and sixty acres of land, which he now holds, and would not part with at any price.

Between whiles Mr. Robins soldiered and examined the dry goods to be sold. The day came—it was Saturday. The great sale commenced at ten o'clock, in the great bar-room of the Tontine Coffee House. There was a large crowd of buyers congregated—the bidding was very spirited, and the highest prices of the war were reached; the commonest samples of unwashable calicoes brought fifty to seventy-five cents a yard, such as to-day would sell at three cents.

Everybody outbid Mr. Robins. At one o'clock the sale adjourned, as was customary, that the buyers might go home and get their dinners, and be back by two, when the sale recommenced.

John Robins went home rather down in the mouth, and quite disheartened that goods had gone so high.

"Have you bought nothing, brother John?" said Nathan.

"No," was the surly reply, and he went back to the Tontine. His bad luck continued. Prices were higher than ever. Not a lot was struck down to Mr. Robins. Henry Laverty bought over $30,000 worth. About dark the sale closed. Every package had been sold. John Robins had bought none. He felt annoyed. His stock of goods on his shelves did not amount to but a few dollars, a few remnants of calicoes, which he could have carried on his shoulder. He went to bed about eight o'clock, sick of his hard luck. He had just begun to drowse, when he heard some one down William street shout "peace." He opened his window— a man was running at the top of his speed. When he reached the corner of Pearl and Chatham streets, he screamed out again "peace," and as he sped on up Chatham street, once more the voice was borne through the air, with the simple word "peace," and the disappointed merchant lay down in his bed again, and wondered what it meant. The next day was Sunday, and it was a lovely morning. Mr. Robins rose early, and hurried over to the barber shop on the opposite side of Pearl.

While waiting for his turn, a friend came in and said: "Glorious news, eh, Robins?"

"What is the news? I have heard nothing," replied John Robins.

"Why a vessel reached Sandy Hook last night, and she brings news that on the 24th of December last, at Ghent, the commission signed a treaty of peace between Great Britain and the United States. There is no doubt it is true."

"Perhaps I was lucky in not buying yesterday at auction," thought John Robins, and he begged the barber to hurry with the shaving. That done, he hurried across the street, and told his mother the news. "Get breakfast as quick as possible," he added, "and I will hurry down to the printing office and see if it is true."

First he visited the office of The Mercantile Advertiser, at No. 159 Pearl street, near Wall. Already there were solid masses of delighted people, hearing and talking of the thrilling news. There was no longer a doubt about it. The vessel that bore the news had reached the dock, and the bearer of the dispatches for Government had passed on his way to Washington.

All the stores in the neighborhood were opened. Among them was that of Henry Laverty, at No. 149, just below Wall.

His store was heaped up with goods bought at the auction sale on the previous Saturday. Mr. Laverty was walking rapidly up and down the store, and swearing like a trooper.

"John, did you buy any goods yesterday?"

"Not a dollar's worth."

"Well, that is always the way with you; you know when to buy and when to let alone. It is all dickey with me. I am ruined. I am going to have all these goods (the first floor was crowded) hoisted up into the lofts. I can't bear the sight of them."

By-and-by other merchants and large purchasers at the sale came in. "I bought $8,000 worth. I'll sell out for 4,000." There were no buyers. Another had bought $10,000 worth. He would sell for half price.

Mr. Laverty was nearly crazy. That night, Sunday night, cartmen were busy hauling goods to the auction store; and the next morning, Monday, every auctioneer was busy selling goods of all kinds for a mere song.

Lewis Hartman, one of the wealthiest and most prosperous grocers in the city, was nearly ruined by the peace. He had speculated without limit in coffee, sugar, teas, etc. He kept at 423 Pearl, corner of Rose, from about 1800. That same man lived in the house as late as 1837, but he had previously removed his store to 227 Front, where he did a grocery business, under the firm of Lewis Hartman & Son, as late as 1835.

By the year 1815, the credit of John Robins, in this city was unlimited. It stood on a basis too solid to be shaken. Yet rules of trade required an indorser. Laverty was the indorser, and Mr. Robins indorsed for Laverty. So great was the confidence in each other's stability, they never even took a memorandum of the extent of their indorsements for the other, but indorsed ad libitum.

John Hone & Son were then in business, and Myndert Van Shaick was Collector. He once said to Mr. Robins:

"Hereafter please to draw your notes to my order."

"Why so ?" asked Mr. Robins.

"Because it is too much trouble for me to go and get Mr. Laverty's indorsement."

This is convincing proof of a high mercantile standing. In later years he gave no notes, and it afforded persons a great deal of amusement to hear him threaten that if parties did not make a discount of six per cent., he would give his note. Any bank would cash his note for six per cent. per annum.

Mr. Robins never had any ambition to be known as a down town merchant, even after the character of that part of Pearl street where he lived had changed. He was known as a monied man. He was elected a director of the Phœnix Bank, and at one time when Mr. Boggs, the President, was in Europe, on account of his health, was elected vice-president. It is not generally known that "Phœnix" is a very appropriate name of the bank. In 1812 it was chartered as the "New York Manufacturing Company," with a capital of $1,500,000, with twenty years to run. In 1817, it had run so low that its capital was cut down to $700,000, and its name was changed to "Phœnix" Bank. Again, in 1820, the capital was cut down to $500,000.

Mr. Robins was in it from that time to 1833, and regarded as one of the best directors the bank had. His knowledge of the value of mercantile paper was extraordinary, and to this day is so. John Delafield was cashier of the Phœnix. He was a great schemer, and ambitious to be president. Mr. Robins discovered that such was his aim, and determined to thwart him. He was for some time successful, but after a while the Board of Directors coalesced with Delafield, and he carried his point. Of course, the influence of Mr. Robins in the Board was somewhat weakened. During the time that Mr. Robins had been an active director, and his wishes predominated, the bank had met with great success. Its stock had gone up to 130 at the Broker's Board.

As soon as he discovered that Delafield would succeed, and had a majority of friends, he determined to resign. He told the other directors so, and added, "I have been a long time a director-I live a good deal out of the way-I am getting older than I was-I have neglected my business, and I now want to give way and make room for some younger man. I will resign and not be a candidate for re-election."

However, when the election came he was re-elected.

That very afternoon three of the directors, Henry Parish, Moses H. Grinnell and one other, called upon Mr. Robins and informed him that he was re-elected.

"I am sorry, for I was not a candidate," said Mr. Robins.

"You must serve," said Moses H. Grinnell. "We can't get on without you. Your knowledge of the value of dry goods commercial paper, makes you invaluable. It is indispensable that you should serve."

"I'm sorry. But I told you I would not serve."

"We will not take 'no' for an answer," said Grinnell.

"I will not accede to your request," said Mr. Robins.

"Very well, will you say that you will not decide not to accept until to-morrow?" asked the directors.

"Very well. I will not," said Mr. Robins.

After they had stepped out, Mr. Robins went to work and made a list of every dollar of bank stocks that he held, including, of course, a heavy amount of Phœnix shares.

The next morning Mr. Robins went with this list to the office of his old friend, John G. Warren, the broker who kept then at No. 46 Wall street. He handed him the list: "John, sell every dollar of the stock on that list at the Board to-day."

It was done. All his Phœnix brought 130, and other stocks in proportion.

That afternoon the committee from the bank called to get his acceptance of the position as a director.

"Gentlemen," said Mr. Robins, "I believe the charter of the Phœnix Bank requires that all its directors shall be stockholders?"

"Certainly."

"Then I cannot serve, for I am no longer a stockholder."

The committee said no more. Phœnix Bank stock fell to 70.

Old Mr. Robins said that John Delafield would ruin the bank. He did. Again the capital stock had to be reduced one-quarter to get it to par.

After that Mr. Robins never would own a dollar's worth of any kind of bank or insurance stocks.

John Robins was once associated with John Jacob Astor, Nathaniel Prime and John Hone, as a committee to examine into the condition of a proposed loan asked for by the State of Ohio, to carry on her internal improvements. That great State had witnessed the success of the Erie Canal in this, and became anxious to follow in the track. Commissioners came on to Wall street to raise money. The subject was referred to the above persons. The true reason why Ohio state credit is to this day better than any other Western state, is doubtless due to the report of these financial gentlemen, and to the advice they gave the legislature of Ohio.

The Commissioners first applied to old Nat Prime, of the great house of Prime, Ward & King. He selected the other names, Robins, Hone and Astor. The Ohio agents left all their papers with these men, and they spent one night and day in a room together, carefully examining every document, and with fidelity searching into the true condition of Ohio. Fancy that scene! Watch the wrinkles on the faces of these venerable financiers as they carefully read the laws of Ohio!

Only one of these four shrewd, long-headed old men, yet lives, and that is Mr. Robins, the subject of this chapter.

They reported unanimously in favor of loaning to Ohio every dollar she asked for, provided the legislature of that state would insert in the law creating said loan a clause prepared by them relative to taxation, such as had been agreed upon by the four rich men, who stated that if this suggestion was perfected, the money should be had—the loan should be made.

The Ohio agents called at the time appointed to hear the report. Old Mr. Prime told them what was wanted to be made a law. That night the agents started for the capital of Ohio. The legislature was in session. That body promptly amended the law, as suggested by the money kings of Wall street. The agents again returned to New York, and got all the money Ohio wanted; and her credit has been A 1 from that day until now.

Mr. Astor and Mr. Robins were great friends, and the latter used frequently to purchase almost entire cargoes of the former, and particularly about the time of the war. On one occasion Mr. Robins had bought an immense quantity of long nankeens of John Hone & Sons. There was but one lot more in the market. This was held by John Jacob Astor. Mr. Robins went around to his store. It was then at 69 Pine street, corner of Pearl. Robins told Mr. Astor what he wanted. John Jacob went to a long counter in the middle of the floor, then took a duster, and brushed off all the dust or dirt; then laid down a sample of the nankeens. He was a very methodical man was Mr. Astor, and did his own business. He told chop-grade, and all that sort of thing.

"How many have you got?"

He named the quantity. "What is your price?"

He replied.

"I'll take 'em, said Robins.

"Have them to day?"

"Yes, send them up to 450 Pearl street."

Mr. Astor asked but one price, and he never departed from it. He represented everything as it was, and never deceived anybody. He never told a lie even by implication, to sell a lot of goods. They were always found to be as he had represented them. Mr. Astor and Mr. Robins were both directors in the celebrated Globe Insurance Company.

Mr. Robins always prided himself upon his thorough knowledge of dry goods—especially cloths. He knew the value of the finest broadcloths to a fraction. Up to 1855, he attended every auction sale where they were to be sold. He was never at all avaricious. He would work as hard to make a profit of a few cents a yard on a costly broadcloth as on a cargo of silks and nankeens. He was a capital judge. To those he liked, Mr. Robins was a thorough and a good friend. Those he disliked, never received favors at his hands, but they were pretty sure to get little notice from him.

He never carried an umbrella.

Once he sold some property in the Bowery, at No. 15½, for about $5,000. It was afterwards re-sold for $27,000. A friend made some comments upon it. Mr. Robins replied: "I got a high price. I could have bought lots in Chambers street at the same time for less than I sold mine in the Bowery."

I have said, in the last chapter, that Mr. Robins had but little to do with real estate; his first purchase and sale of a lot, however, is worth recording. A lumber merchant, by the name of Baker, doing business near Corlaers Hook, on the east side of the town, owned a lot of ground in the Bowery, No. 15, near Chatham Square; it was 30 feet wide and 100 in depth; there was upon it a small, comfortable dwelling house, and a stable in the rear, to which access was had by an alley way. The owner was anxious to sell, and had tried to do so at auction, but there were no bidders. Mr. Robins was applied to to purchase the premises. This was at a period not long after the commencement of the present century, before the present City Hall was built. Negotiations were not long pending; Mr. Robins was desirous of furnishing his mother with a comfortable home, convenient to his own business, and having already a deposit in bank of a few thousand dollars which he did not require in his business, bought the property for $4,500. The deed had hardly been delivered before a Scotchman, whose name is now forgotten, called upon Mr. Robins to know if he would sell the property in the Bowery which he had just purchased. Before the interview closed, the Scotchman became possessed of that which he had long coveted, but not without an advance of some hundreds of dollars, which went into the pockets of the then youthful Robins. The late Gen. Robert Bogardus who was the grand marshal on the occasion of the obsequies of President Harrison, in this city in 1841, drew up the conveyance to the new owner, and now the formalities of deliverance were to be gone through with. The Scotchman with his check, and young Robins with the deed, met by appointment. Certified checks were unknown in those days, so they agreed to go together to the bank. It was the old United States Bank, located at No. 164 Pearl street.

When the Scotchman presented his check to the teller (who, by the by, was connected by marriage with the family of Col. Rutgers), he said to him, "I acknowledge that check to be mine, and I want you to pay it;" the money was counted out and paid, and then the title was to be searched. They left the bank and went to the City Hall, which was then located in Wall street, on the site now occupied by the Custom House. They entered the County Clerk's office, and finding that dignitary, the Scotchman inquired in an audible voice, "Are there any judgments against John Robins?" After a short alphabetical search, the clerk answered in the negative. The Scotchman was not aware that there would be any charge for such a service and was about to retire, when he was politely reminded that he must pay 5s. 6d. He reluctantly paid the amount, and the twain went in pursuit of the Clerk of the Supreme Court, whom having found, the same formal demand was made, and being answered in the negative, the Scotchman turned to leave, but was again reminded that it was necessary to pay the accustomed fee. He replied that he had already paid a considerable amount, and could not see any good reason for paying again. It was, however, of no use to argue the matter—the clerk pocketed the usual fee. Mr. Robins said there was still another court for them to visit. The Scotchman inquired if there would be anything more to pay; the reply was he supposed there would be. "Well," said the Scotchman, "in that case I'll be d——d if I will go any further," and he did not. That ended the search of the validity of the title of the property known as No. 15 Bowery, which, it is believed, is still vested in the descendants of the penurious Scotchman.

As I have said before, Mr. Robins had no ambition to be called a down town merchant." He has kept upon the same block for over sixty-two years, and for half a century in the same building—for Nos. 426 and 428 are really under the same roof now, and the old building was upon the same plot of ground, thirty-three feet wide.

His trade, that was once immense, insensibly diminished—partly from indisposition to keep up with the times, but more probably from the fact that his old customers, in the long lapse of time, dropped one by one into the grave, and left him alone in the old store, with the same old shelves, but now empty. Of his old, intimate business acquaintances, but one lives, and that is John Haggerty.

Still the spry and active man, with fourscore and two years on his white head, goes regularly to market every morning; stopping first at the baker's for his loaf of bread for breakfast—and this, too, in all kinds of weather, in winter and summer. He never wore a pair of gloves in his life; but in very cold weather he wears his woolen mittens. Every morning, early as the light, he is in his store. He opens it, sweeps it out, and makes the fire. There is no aristocracy, no false pride, and yet he is a proud man; he is proud of his independence from want—proud that he has been a true old New York merchant—proud that he never failed—proud that he never lied or wronged a human being out of a dollar—proud that he has kept the "talents" entrusted to him, and has more than doubled them—proud that he has never squandered or wasted the property accumulated by his energy in legitimate trade, and that he has never given way to a false weakness, like some men who have become poor to enrich others.

Mr. Robins has never been a slave to luxuries, or felt their necessity. He never had a fire in his sleeping apartment, and he never had a wash-stand there. He did without Croton water for many years, and was content with the old-fashioned pump water, which was good enough for any old New Yorker. He never would have allowed Croton to be brought into his yard, had not the spirit of innovation removed the good old pump from his neighborhood.

He was the very opposite of his old friend, Henry Laverty. Laverty did love luxuries, from early strawberries and green peas to the finest woodcock and tenderest game.

I remember him, an old man, long years ago, and yet with a remarkably keen eye for a young and pretty girl. His house in Broadway was once the seat of hospitality and festivity. I remember the son who accidentally killed Sykes, at Windust's saloon, near the old Park Theatre. By the way, Ned Windust himself is still a handsome, lively young man, and keeps in the same place, or very near it, in Park row.

I remember D. W. Gantley and Cutter, both of the firm of Laverty, Gantley & Co. But they have all gone, dead, or out of town. Henry Laverty was crippled in means for years. He was never out of trouble. He died poor and left nothing, comparatively speaking. Rufus H. King, Vice President of the State Bank of Albany, married one of his amiable daughters.

Gantley blew up. What ever became of dapper little Cutter, I never knew.

Mr. Robins never paraded his name before the public. People have no idea how low United States sixes were during the war with England in 1812 to 1815.

At that time all the banks South, West and North, had suspended specie payment, except New England. The banks in that section paid specie.

There was a difference of twenty per cent. between New England and New York money. United States sixes in 1814 were worth fifty cents payable in specie, or seventy cents if paid in New York bank currency.

Mr. Robins was one of the builders-up of our city. One of the oldest of the Old Merchants shall not pass away from the scene of his labors without seeing more said of himself than was ever said, before these chapters were written, of any of his contemporaries—Astor, Hone, Prime, Laverty, Nat Griswold and George, Stephen Whitney and others, whose names will be found here.

His brother, and for many years partner, died in 1859. He left a large family of sons and daughters. Thomas was cashier of the Vicksburg Bank. Amos is collector at Rahway, N. J. George is a manufacturer of army utensils. John, the eldest son, died about eight years ago. Nathan is living at the old homestead. Wright, another son, is married, and living in a beautiful cottage on the farm left by his father. He is the youngest nephew of the subject of this interesting narrative, and is his constant companion. He can be seen almost daily in Wall street, watching with keen discernment the movements of that important locality; he keeps closely in his own counsels, and, like his uncle, rarely errs in judgment. He is the confidential adviser of his mother and sisters, and his advice is their rule of action. There are few of his age in this emporium who have more responsible duties to discharge, and fewer still more capable than he to discharge them. He is now reaping the rich reward of those uncompromising principles of honesty and integrity in which he has been educated.

I have mentioned above, young Thomas Robins, cashier of the Vicksburg Bank.

Thomas was a teller in the Phœnix Bank of this city. At the time the Vicksburg Bank was chartered, the directors sent on to New York to procure the services of the most able financier that could be had, for cashier.

Young Thomas Robins was the man selected. He went out. Of course, he had not long been there, before the same attempt was made to crowd him, that is usually made upon all Northerners who go South.

But Tom Robins would fight, most boys brought up in the Fourth and Sixth Wards of New York, will. In three duels, Tom wounded his opponents severely.

He and the celebrated S. S. Prentiss were bosom friends; but finally the Southerners worked upon Prentiss to challenge Tom. It was accepted. The night before the meeting was to come off, Prentiss went to Tom's residence, and frankly said: "Tom, I am in the wrong, and I will not fight you any way." To the hour of his death they were friends.

When the Mexican war broke out in 1846, Tom Robins raised the celebrated Mississippi regiment, and was elected its colonel. By some very dishonorable means, he was induced to resign in favor of Jefferson Davis.

Thomas Robins challenged him, but he knew his man, and refused to fight. Upon what slender strings important events hang! Had Davis not got the command of that regiment, he never would have been heard of again.

From the many incidents connected with the history of John Robins with which I am familiar, the following is selected, demonstrative of his honest impulses in his business transactions. At the close of the last war with England in 1815, the English manufacturers, the moment the embargo was raised, and all restrictions had been removed, which had obstructed our commerce, sent to this port large cargoes of dry goods invoiced at war prices, with instructions to sell on arrival. The auction rooms were literally crowded with them, prices gave way, and this market offered no inducements for other shipments. At that period Mr. Henry Barclay, an older brother of Anthony and George Barclay, the latter now retired from active life, and who resides at No. 8 Washington place, was largely engaged in the importation of dry goods. Seeing that great sacrifices were being submitted to by many of his neighbors in their hurry to dispose of their consignments, and the general panic created by their great haste to sell, he conceived the idea of investing a hundred thousand dollars in purchasing dry goods at auction, thinking it would prove a profitable speculation. It would not answer for him to make the purchases in person, and while thinking to find some trusty person, one on whom he could rely for honesty, and one, too, who was a good judge of the quality and styles of English fabrics, he selected John Robins as his man. With a fixed purpose to carry out his project he called upon Mr. Robins and made known to him the object of his visit.

"I want your services Mr. Robins," said Mr. Barclay, "to carry out a project which I have conceived and which I think will result to the advantage of both of us."

"Pray, Mr. Barclay," said Robins, "in what way can I render you a service?"

"Don't misunderstand me, Mr. Robins," said Barclay, "it is purely a business arrangement I wish to perfect with you. I find the market is largely overstocked with dry goods, they are now selling at ruinous prices, and instead of being a seller I have concluded to become a purchaser."

"Indeed," said uncle John Robins.

"I have come to propose to you, to attend the auction sales and exercise your best judgment in selecting and purchasing goods in your name for my benefit to the amount of one hundred thousand dollars, which sum I have appropriated for that purpose, and for which services I will pay you 2½ per cent. commission."

"It is a very heavy operation, Mr. Barclay, and I hope you have well considered it," observed Mr. Robins. "I have indeed, the profits which will result from this speculation must be large, don't you think so?" replied Mr. Barclay.

"I am not so clear upon that point, I have generally found that where there is a chance to make, there is also a chance to lose," said Mr. Robins.

"What," said Barclay, "can you for a moment doubt that the speculation will not prove profitable?"

"Well," replied Robins, "since you have put the question to me, I will answer it in all candor. My advice to you is to abandon the scheme, it will result unprofitably to you, you will lose money by the operation, for be assured the price of the very goods which you desire me to purchase for you will fall much lower, and I advise you instead of becoming a purchaser in this mar ket, that you turn your attention to the disposal of what stock you have on hand, and banish the idea from your mind which you have proposed to me."

Mr. Barclay was so disappointed and yet while he was astonished with the boldness and frankness of this advice, he was induced to reconsider his plans, at any rate to delay the execution of them for a few days. In the meantime the market became more and more overstocked, prices went down still further, and Mr. Barclay instead of realizing a golden harvest from his favorite project, acted upon the advice of Mr. Robins, and disposed of his own stock as speedily as possible. These gentlemen met accidentally many years afterwards, when Mr. Barclay remarked, "I can never be too grateful to you, Mr. Robins, for the advice which you once gave me, and the large amount of money which I saved by following it."

"I think," modestly replied Mr. Robins, "the price of dry goods has not advanced since the day we had a talk upon the subject, which if I mistake not is now more than twenty years ago."

It is quite refreshing to dwell upon such sterling worth in these degenerating times of shoddy contracts.