Chapter 44

"When the crisis came, on the eve of the election for Directors, in October, 1867, there were three contestants in the field. Fisk was serving under the Drew party, who wanted to be retained in office. Vanderbilt, master of Harlem, Hudson River, and Central, seemed to be on the point of securing Erie also. Eldridge was the leader of the Boston, Hartford, and Erie party, which wanted to get into the Erie Directory for the purpose of making that Company guarantee the bonds of their own worthless road. Eldridge was assisted by Gould. As a result of the compromise by which the three opposing interests coalesced, Fisk and Gould were both chosen Directors of Erie, and from the month of October, 1867, dates the memorable association of these two choice spirits since so famous in the money markets of the world. They were not the counterparts, but the complements of each other. Fisk was bold, unscrupulous, dashing, enterprising, ready in execution, powerful in his influence over the lower and more sensual order of men. Gould was artful, reticent, long-headed, clear of brain, fertile of invention, tenacious of purpose, and no more burdened with unnecessary scruples than his more noisy and flashy companion. They were not long in joining fortunes. At the time of the famous Erie corner, the next March, they were ostensibly working on opposite sides, Gould acting for Vanderbilt, and Fisk being the man to whom Drew intrusted 50,000 shares of new stock, secretly issued, to be used when Vanderbilt's brokers began to buy. The mysteries of that transaction are fully known only to a few of the principal actors. An injuction of Judge Barnard's had forbidden Drew or anybody connected with the road to manufacture any more stock by the issue of convertible bonds. But Drew was 'short' of Erie; the Vanderbilt pool threatened ruin; and stock must be had. The new certificates had already been made out in the name of James Fisk, jr., and were in the hands of the Secretary who was enjoined from issuing them. Mr. Fisk saw a way out of the difficulty. The Secretary gave the certificate books to an employe of the road, with directions to carry them carefully to the transfer office. The messenger returned in a moment empty-handed, and told the astonished Secretary that Mr. Fisk had met him at the door, taken the books, and 'run away with them!' On the same day the convertible bonds corresponding to these certificates were placed on the Secretary's desk, and as soon as Vanderbilt had forced up the price of Erie, Fisk's new shares were thrown upon the market, and bought by Vanderbilt's agents before their origin was suspected. Mr. Fisk unfortunately had not yet cultivated the intimate relations with Judge Barnard which he subsequently sustained. When the Drew party applied for an order from Judge Gilbert in Brooklyn, enjoining Barnard's injunctions, the petitioner who accused that ornament of the New York bench of a corrupt conspiracy to speculate in Erie stock, was none other than Fisk's partner, Mr. Belden. The next morning Barnard issued an order of arrest for contempt, and Fisk, with the whole Erie Directory, fled to Jersey City, carrying $7,000,000 of money and the books and papers of the Company. Among the most valuable of the assets transferred on that occasion to Taylor's Hotel was Miss Helen Josephine Mansfield. 'I went to Jersey,' testified this fair creature some weeks ago, in the suit which has just come to so tragical a termination, 'with the officers of the Erie Company, and the railroad paid all the expense.' Mr. Fisk could afford to amuse himself. He had made fifty or sixty thousand dollars by his day's work in Broad street, and he had the satisfaction of knowing that he had not only beaten Vanderbilt and Barnard, but outwitted even his particular friend and patron, Mr. Drew. He had now practically the greater share of the management on his shoulders, though in name he was only Controller. He softened public indignation by subsidizing a gang of ruffians, ostensibly in the Vanderbilt interest, to besiege 'Fort Taylor,' as if for the purpose of kidnapping the Directors, and organizing a band of railway hands to mount guard about the hotel. He dogged the steps of Mr. Drew, who was stealing over to New York by night to make a secret compromise for himself alone with Mr. Vanderbilt, and when Drew carried off the funds of the Company, Fisk compelled him to bring them back by putting an attachment on his money in bank. A bill was now introduced at Albany to legalize Drew's over-issue of stock. It was defeated. Mr. Gould visited the capital with half a million dollars, and came back without a cent, and the bill which three weeks before had been rejected by a vote of 83 to 32 was carried by a vote of 101 to 6. This was followed by a general suspension of hostilities. The scandalous network of injunctions had become so intricate that one general order was obtained sweeping it all away. Judge Barnard was placated in some manner not made public. Mr. Peter B. Sweeny, who, as the representative of Tammany, had been appointed 'Receiver' of the property of the railway company after it had been carried out of reach, was allowed $150,000 for his trouble of taking care of nothing; and the exiles returned to New York. In one of his characteristic fits of frankness, James Fisk afterward on the witness stand described the settlement which ensued as an 'almighty robbery.' The Directors of Erie took 50,000 shares of stock off Vanderbilt's shoulders at 70, and gave him $1,000,000 besides. Eldridge got $4,000,000 of Erie acceptances in exchange for $5,000,000 of Boston, Hartford, and Erie, which became bankrupt very soon afterward. Drew kept all he had made, but was to pay $540,000 into the Erie treasury and stand acquitted of all claims the corporation might have against him. Nearly half a million more was required to pay the lawyers and discontinue the suits. Fisk, getting nothing personally, stood out against the arrangement until the conspirators consented to give him--the Erie Railroad! Drew and some others were to resign, and Fisk and Gould to take possession of the property."

[Picture: JAY GOULD.]

Out of his first operations in Erie stock, Fisk is said to have made $1,300,000. The Legislature of New York legalized his acts, through the influence, it is said, of Mr. William M. Tweed. It is certain that this act was followed by the entrance of Tweed and Sweeny into the Board of Directors.

Once in possession of the Erie road, Fisk and his colleagues managed it in their own interests. It was commonly believed in the city that Fisk was but the executor of the designs which were conceived by an abler brain than his own.

He figured largely in the infamous Black Friday transactions of Wall street, and is credited by the public with being one of the originators of that vast conspiracy to destroy the business of the street. How near he came to success has already been shown.

Soon after coming into possession of the Erie road, he purchased Pike's Opera House for $1,000,000 in the name of the Erie Railway Company. The Directors, however, refused to approve the transaction, and he refunded to them the amount of the purchase, taking the building on his private account, and repaying the road in some of its stock owned by him. Subsequently he leased the front building to the road at an enormous rent, and opened for it a suite of the most gorgeous railway offices in the world. He subsequently bought the Fifth Avenue Theatre, and the Central Park Garden, and the Bristol line of steamers, and the steamers plying in connection with the Long Branch Railway. He made himself "Admiral" of this magnificent fleet, and dressed himself in a gorgeous naval uniform. When President Grant visited the Coliseum Concert at Boston, Fisk accompanied him in this dress, having previously played the part of host to the President during the voyage down the Sound on one of his boats. A year or two previous to his death, he was elected Colonel of the Ninth Regiment of the National Guard.

Previous to his purchase of the Grand Opera House, Mr. Fisk was an unknown man, but the ownership of this palatial establishment gave him an opportunity of enjoying the notoriety he coveted. His career in connection with this establishment, and his unscrupulous management of the Erie Railway, soon made him notorious in all parts of America and Europe. His monogram was placed on everything he owned or was connected with, and he literally lived in the gaze of the public. He can scarcely be said to have had any private life, for the whole town was talking of his theatres, his dashing four in hand, his railway and steamboats, his regiment, his toilettes, his magnificence, his reckless generosity, and his love affairs. He had little regard for morality or public sentiment, and hesitated at nothing necessary to the success of his schemes. His great passion was for notoriety, and he cared not what he did so it made people talk about him. He surrounded himself with a kind of barbaric splendor, which won him the name of the "Prince of Erie." Some of his acts were utterly ludicrous, and he had the wit to perceive it, but he cared not so it made James Fisk, jr., the talk of the day. His influence upon the community was bad. He had not only his admirers, but his imitators, and these sought to reproduce his bad qualities rather than his virtues.

In some respects he was a strange compound of good and evil. He was utterly unprincipled, yet he was generous to a fault. No one ever came to him in distress without meeting with assistance, and it adds to the virtue of these good deeds that he never proclaimed them to the world. Says one of his intimate friends: "His personal expenses were, at a liberal estimate, not one-fifth as large as the amount which he spent in providing for persons in whose affairs he took a kindly interest, who had seen misfortune in life, and whom he felt to be dependent upon him for assistance. He gave away constantly enormous amounts in still more direct charities, concerning which he rarely spoke to any one, and it was only by accident that even his most intimate friends found out what he was doing. He supported for some years an entire family of blind persons without ever saying a word about it to his nearest friends. He was particularly generous towards actors and actresses, who, whenever they suffered from misfortune, would always appeal to him; and one lady, herself an actress of considerable repute and of very generous nature, was in the habit of coming constantly to Mr. Fisk to appeal to him for assistance to aged or unfortunate members of their profession, assistance which he never refused. Very recently a lady, who was formerly a New York favorite, but who made an unhappy marriage, and to escape from a drunken husband had carried her child to England, where, after struggling in provincial theatres for more than a year, she came to almost her last penny and had hardly the means to return to this country, without a change of clothing and without being able to bring away her child, made her case known to the lady before-mentioned, who immediately, after helping to the extent of her own scanty means, sent her with a note to Mr. Fisk. Mr. Fisk listened to her story, advanced her $250 on the spot, procured her an engagement in a theatre at $75 a week, and interested the captain of one of our finest sea-going vessels in the case so far as to provide a free passage for the child to this country, the captain, in order to please Mr. Fisk, taking great pains to discover the whereabouts of the child and restore her to its mother. These are but incidental illustrations of what Mr. Fisk was daily doing, and always doing with the utmost privacy and with the greatest reluctance to allow it to become known. He would rarely subscribe to any public charity, because he disliked to make any pretence of liberality before the public."

In the fall of 1867, Fisk made the acquaintance of Mrs. Helen Josephine Mansfield, an actress, who had just been divorced from her husband, Frank Lawler. He became deeply enamored of her, and she became his mistress and lived with him several years, her main object being, it would seem, to obtain from him all the money he was willing to expend upon her. Fisk subsequently introduced one of his friends, Edward S. Stokes, to Mrs. Mansfield, and the woman was not long in transferring her affections from her protector to Stokes. This aroused Fisk's jealousy, and led to constant trouble between his mistress and himself. His quarrel with Stokes was complicated by business disputes, which were carried into the courts, where Fisk was all powerful. The matter went from bad to worse, until at length Stokes and Mrs. Mansfield instituted a libel suit against Fisk, which was commonly regarded in the city as simply an attempt on their part to extort money from him. The suit dragged its slow way through the court in which it was instituted, and every day diminished the chances of the success of the plaintiffs.

For reasons which he has not yet made public, Stokes now resolved to take matters into his own hands, and on the afternoon of the 6th of January, 1872, waylaid Fisk, as the latter was ascending the private stairway of the Grand Central Hotel, and, firing upon him twice from his hiding place, inflicted on him severe wounds from which he died the next day. The assassination was most cowardly and brutal, and awakened a feeling of horror and indignation on the part of all classes.

XLVII. TRINITY CHURCH.

On the west side of Broadway, facing Wall street, stands Trinity Church, or, as it is commonly called, "Old Trinity," the handsomest ecclesiastical structure in the city. It is the third edifice which has occupied the site. The first church was built in 1697, at the organization of the parish, and was a plain square edifice with an ugly steeple. In 1776, this building was destroyed in the great fire of that year. A second church was built on the site of the old one, in 1790. In 1839, this was pulled down, and the present noble edifice was erected. It was finished and consecrated in 1846.

The present church is a beautiful structure of brown-stone, built as nearly in the pure Gothic style as modern churches ever are. The walls are fifty feet in height, and the apex of the roof is sixty feet from the floor of the church. The interior is finished in brown-stone, with massive columns of the same material supporting the roof. There are no transepts, but it is proposed to enlarge the church by the addition of transepts, and to extend the choir back to the end of the churchyard. The nave and the aisles make up the public portion of the church. The choir is occupied by the clergy. The windows are of stained glass. Those at the sides are very simple, but the oriel over the altar is a grand work. There are two organs, a monster instrument over the main entrance, and a smaller organ in the choir. Both are remarkably fine instruments. The vestry rooms, which lie on each side of the chancel, contain a number of handsome memorial tablets, and in the north room there is a fine tomb in memory of Bishop Onderdonk, with a full-length effigy of the deceased prelate in his episcopal robes.

Service is held twice a day in the church. On Sundays and high feast days there is full service and a sermon. The choral service is used altogether on such occasions. Trinity has long been famous for its excellent music. The choir consists of men and boys, who are trained with great care by the musical director. The service is very beautiful and impressive, and is thoroughly in keeping with the grand and cathedral-like edifice in which it is conducted. The two organs, the voices of the choristers, and often the chime of bells, all combine to send a flood of melody rolling through the beautiful arches such as is never heard elsewhere in the city.

The spire is 284 feet in height, and is built of solid brownstone from the base to the summit of the cross. It contains a clock, with three faces, just above the roof of the church, and a chime of bells. About 110 feet from the ground the square form of the tower terminates, and a massive but graceful octagonal spire rises to a height of 174 feet. At the base of this spire is a narrow gallery enclosed with a stone balustrade, from which a fine view of the city and the surrounding country is obtained. The visitor may, however, climb within the spire to a point nearly two hundred and fifty feet from the street. Here is a small wooden platform, and about four feet above it are four small windows through which one may look out upon the magnificent view spread out below him. The eye can range over the entire city, and take in Brooklyn and its suburban towns as well. To the eastward are Long Island Sound and the distant hills of Connecticut. To the southward stretches away the glorious bay, and beyond it is the dark blue line of the Atlantic. Sandy Hook, the Highlands, the Narrows, and Staten Island are all in full view. To the westward is the New Jersey shore, and back of Jersey city rise the blue Orange Mountains, with Newark, Elizabeth, Orange and Patterson in full sight. To the northward, the Hudson stretches away until it seems to disappear in the dark shadow of the Palisades. From where you stand, you look down on the habitations of nearly three millions of people. The bay, the rivers, and the distant Sound are crowded with vessels of all kinds. If the day be clear, you may see the railway trains dashing across the meadows back of Jersey City. The roar of the great city comes up to you from below, and beneath you is a perfect maze of telegraph wires. The people in the streets seem like pigmies, and the vehicles are like so many toys. You know they are moving rapidly, but they seem from this lofty height to be crawling. It is a long way to these upper windows, but the view which they command is worth the exertion. The tower is open to visitors during the week, on payment of a trifling fee to the sexton.

The chimes are hung in the square tower, just above the roof of the church. The bells are nine in number. The smallest weighs several hundred pounds, while the largest weighs several thousand. The musical range is an octave and a quarter, rather a limited scale, it is true, but the ringer is a thorough musician, and has managed to ring out many an air within this compass, which but for his ingenuity would have been unsuited to these bells. The largest bell, the "Big Ben," and several others, are connected with the clock, and the former strikes the hours, while the rest of this set chime the quarters. Five of the bells, the large one and the four smaller ones, were brought here from England, in 1846. The other four were made in West Troy, by Meneely & Son, a few years later, and are fully equal to their English mates in tone and compass. The entire chime is very rich and sweet in tone, and, in this respect, is surpassed by very few bells in the world. The bells are hung on swinging frames, but are lashed, so as to stand motionless during the chiming, the notes being struck by the tongues, which are movable. The tongue always strikes in the same place, and thus the notes are full and regular. From the tongue of each bell there is a cord which is attached to a wooden lever in the ringer's room, about thirty feet below. These nine levers are arranged side by side, and are so arranged as to work as easy as possible. Each is as large as a handspike, and it requires no little strength to sustain the exertion of working them. The ringer places his music before him, and strikes each note as it occurs by suddenly pushing down the proper lever. At the end of his work, he is thoroughly tired. The ringer now in charge of the bells is Mr. James Ayliffe, an accomplished musician.

In favorable weather, the chimes can be heard for a distance of from five to ten miles. There are few strangers who leave the city without hearing the sweet bells of the old church. The city people would count it a great misfortune to be deprived of their music. For nearly thirty years they have heard them, in seasons of joy and in hours of sadness. On Christmas eve, at midnight, the chimes ring in the blessed morning of our Lord's nativity, thus continuing an old and beautiful custom now observed only in parts of Europe.

The church is kept open from early morning until sunset. In the winter season it is always well heated, and hundreds of the poor find warmth and shelter within its holy walls. It is the only church in New York in which there is no distinction made between the rich and the poor. The writer has frequently seen beggars in tatters conducted, by the sexton, to the best seats in the church.

The rector and his assistants are alive to the fact that this is one of the few churches now left to the lower part of the city, and they strive to make it a great missionary centre. Their best efforts are for the poor. Those who sneer at the wealth of the parish, would do well to trouble themselves to see what a good use is made of it.

The ultra fashionable element of the congregation attend Trinity Chapel, or "Up-town Trinity," in Twenty-fifth street, near Broadway. This is a handsome church, and has a large and wealthy congregation.

Trinity Parish embraces a large part of the city. It includes the following churches, or chapels, as they are called: St. Paul's, St. John's, Trinity Chapel, and Trinity Church. It is in charge of a rector, who is a sort of small bishop in this little diocese. He has eight assistants. Each church or chapel has its pastor, who is subject to the supervision of the rector. The Rev. Morgan Dix, D.D., a son of General John A. Dix, is the present rector.

Trinity takes good care of its clergy. The salaries are amply sufficient to insure a comfortable support, and a well-furnished house is provided for each one who has a family. Should a clergyman become superannuated in the service of the parish, he is liberally maintained during his life; and should he die in his ministry, provision is made for his family.

[Picture: TRINITY CHURCH.]

The wealth of the parish is very great. It is variously stated at from sixty to one hundred millions of dollars. It is chiefly in real estate, the leases of which yield an immense revenue.

The churchyard of Old Trinity covers about two acres of ground. A handsome iron railing separates it from Broadway, and the thick rows of gravestones, all crumbling and stained with age, present a strange contrast to the bustle, vitality, and splendor with which they are surrounded. They stare solemnly down into Wall street, and offer a bitter commentary upon the struggles and anxiety of the money kings.

The place has an air of peace that is pleasant in the midst of so much noise and confusion, and is well worth visiting.