His return to his native land set him down at the "Four Corners" again, not in old Bucks County, but in Philadelphia, where he faced the real crossroads of his life in determining his future course.
He was out of business, still in his young manhood, unmarried and with all his time to do as he pleased. He was a handsome, well-dressed man in those days, slender, erect and alert, rather less than medium height, with dark hair, expressive and extremely bright eyes, smooth face and firm mouth, and with a rare touch of gentleness.
As a rich, good-looking, young bachelor, only forty years old, with education and refinement, he might have been a social lion had he so chosen. He was fond of society, enjoyed the company of good women and clever men, liked horses and dogs, as his diary and some old letters prove.
At this period of his life, nothing was farther from his thought and purpose than to become in any sense a recluse; neither was he of the kind who think that they have done the world a service in being born into it and that it ought to find for him for the rest of his days, some highly honorable and remunerative position, without hard work or great responsibility.
It may be fairly said, for reasons that follow, that his determination had been finally to remain a bachelor. Having lost his first choice of a country girl, by death, when he came to live in the city he endeavored to win as a wife a most worthy woman, to whom he paid court and to whom he proposed marriage. But he was refused as too poor and with a business too uncertain. It is stated that in after years, when better off, he renewed his proposal to the same person and was again refused for being too rich!
Had he desired to return to the drygoods business he established, doubtless every door would have opened to him. With the reputation that he had made and the good judgment he possessed, he could with his means have allied himself with almost any of the large financial or business concerns of the city.
Having voluntarily retired from business, because he was not ambitious to go farther either for fame or riches, when he returned to America he was for a short time at a standstill as to what his future life was to be.
He is known to have entertained the idea of going back to Europe to continue his studies of the great cities and peoples which he had not visited. The early forties were the most perplexing period of his life. One thing that is said to have brought him home from abroad was the notice that had been drawn to coal lands and their advancement in values. He had large investments in certain important coal properties.
The strenuous and thorough investigations he had made prior to investing his capital proved the excellence of his judgment, because all his investments greatly enhanced in value. The careful survey he had to make of his properties and the examinations of other investments offered to him, to take up his income uninvested, deferred his return to Europe until he lost his enthusiasm for it.
But much more than this, other influences were silently and strongly working upon his mind and heart, by which he was unconsciously being led to a new view of his life and to enter upon a new career.
The world grew larger and finer to him as he wandered through the British Museum and the National Gallery of London. The great universities were to him the living representatives of the wise and good whose benefactions had made possible these great seats of learning. He was deeply stirred by the touch he had with the forces working for the world's uplift in science, art and general education.
While he walked among the treasures of the old past, he saw signs of a new life as he watched the artists at their work and the teachers in their college classrooms. He wandered about the streets and shops, drinking in the vitality of an advancing civilization. The effect upon him was depressing. He had cut the connection with the living forces and activities of his time. He had cast himself upon an island in the midst of a great sea and chosen to be a Robinson Crusoe. He could not rid himself of the thought that he was a lone man, without an object in life.
In London he heard much of what Earl Shaftesbury, a noble Lord, with leisure and means, was doing for the poor of London. In Bristol, he saw the large orphan houses built by George Mueller. Wherever he went, he saw the endowed schools and hospitals, built by the gifts of retired merchants, bankers, and generous women, like Lady Burdett Coutts.
The man most talked about in Philadelphia, when Isaiah Williamson first came to town, was Stephen Girard—the merchant and mariner, who stood first on the roll of its eminent citizens. Girard's vast wealth and business successes were constantly referred to with wonder and praise. He had begun in poverty, peddled oranges on the streets of Philadelphia, and advanced slowly, step by step, to the first place in its business world.
His patriotic support of the Government during the War of 1812 and his many benevolences were constantly on the public tongue. People liked to talk about everything Girard did. His peculiar walk, old gig, his one eye and his queue, his odd coat and characteristic speech, always enlisted the young countryman's interest and admiration. He thought often of the fact that Stephen Girard had not accomplished large financial results until he was past forty. For ten years, he listened to all that was said of Girard, and during that ten years, until Girard died in 1831, he watched him as a young beginner always watches the older business leaders of their time. Girard's life and work, unconsciously at first but admittedly afterward, greatly influenced young Williamson's course of life. His conscience now was keenly alive to what Girard had done—after he was forty—and to the fact that he himself had stopped before he was forty doing anything but what he pleased. That he was forty now and might possibly do his best work, were he willing, haunted him as though he heard voices, like Jeanne d'Arc, bidding him to not throw away his best years.
He had what the Quakers call "a concern."
As in all his extremities, for good counsel he sought the advice of his cousin, Peter Williamson, whose house he often called his home. Peter Williamson was an excellent citizen. He was one of the founders of the Southern Dispensary, the Southwark Soup Society; also of the College of Pharmacy, of which he was a trustee, having been a successful druggist for many years. He was one of the originators and directors of the Western Saving Fund and a prominent Mason, filling the chair of the Right Worshipful Grand Master and Right Worshipful Grand Treasurer of the Grand Lodge, F. & A. M., of the State of Pennsylvania, which antedates all the other Grand Lodges of the United States. Peter Williamson was a broad-minded, wise counsellor, a man of affairs, and a helper of his fellowmen, giving strong support, service and aid to all public and private charities. His strength of character, highmindedness, unselfishness, and public influence, led to his judgment being sought after by his fellow citizens.
At this period of Isaiah Williamson's life he could not have had a better adviser than this older cousin.
The turning point of his career had come.
In the long and frequent interviews, the whole ground of Isaiah Williamson's position was gone over:
1. He had gone out of business because he had reached the goal he aimed for, and had abundant money for his own needs.
2. He had none of kin dependent upon him and there were none of his relations that could not and were not taking care of themselves.
3. His investments were growing well and he would have a surplus to divide among them, if he wished, from the advanced values, accumulating dividends and savings through small living expenses.
4. He desired to travel, enjoy the old world as well as the new, and cultivate his mind beyond what was possible when he was younger.
Peter Williamson, with great tact, drew out information touching the investments that Isaiah had made. Developments going on were likely to lead to a sudden rise in value of coal properties and coal railroads. Isaiah's investments in this field, therefore, might produce a million of dollars.
All things pointed plainly to a new side of Isaiah Williamson's brain. He was more than a merchant, he was also a financier, like Marshall Field, who came along later on the same path.
It was a surprise to both Peter and Isaiah that this unlooked-for development of character and power had come. Other investors were just as diligent, cautious, painstaking, in study of enterprises. But results proved that the keen perceptions and soundness of judgment possessed by Isaiah Williamson were most uncommon and amounted to a talent which, hitherto, had lain dormant.
Therefore, this previously unknown something in the quality of his mind must now be taken into account and worked just the same as the lead or silver veins that might come to light on the owner's farm.
The calm, deliberate discussions of these two kinsfolk slowly settled down to a summing up somewhat like this:
Isaiah was in good health, with a probability of years to give to making money for himself.
He had found out that he could not only amass wealth, but also do what many others could not do. He could organize himself to control the saving of it. Not needing it for himself, he had no right to wrap his talent in a napkin but turn it over and over to the utmost for others needing to be helped.
The example of Stephen Girard had taken deep root in Isaiah Williamson's soul, and he was much drawn towards some such work for his own country, and similar to what was going on in and about London, where he had recently been.
Slowly, steadily but surely, Williamson, under a deep sense of his accountability for talents and wealth, came to the renunciation of his arranged plans. He resolved to use all his ability, whatever it was, and the gains thereof, for the benefit of his fellowmen.