Then ensued quiet investigation, conducted as secretly as the operations of the closest detective bureau. People in want were given aid commensurate with the needs of the particular case, but were never able to thank the donor, for the identity of the giver was never disclosed. In this way, it is said, many hundreds of poor people were relieved.
Another method employed was to look up cases of distress independent of the petitions poured in by mail. To just what extent this charitable work was carried on will never be known, for those conversant with it will not speak of it.
Mr. Gould’s name is unidentified with any great public benefactions. Astor and Tilden founded libraries, Drew established a theological seminary, George I. Seney distributed millions and Vanderbilt endowed a hospital, but Gould’s purse was never opened by any such generous ambition. He was kind to his relatives, gave his brother a good position in the Missouri Pacific railroad and built his sisters a school in Camden. He gave liberally to alleviate the suffering by the Chicago fire and by the Memphis yellow-fever plague, made big subscriptions to the Grant and Garfield funds, and added eighty acres to the Mount Vernon property. This was nearly all he did in a public way. Gould’s politics sprang from his pocket, not from his patriotism. He has already been quoted as saying that “in Republican districts he was a Republican, in Democratic districts a Democrat, and in all an Erie man.” But Mr. Gould was more a Republican than anything else, for he obtained, or thought he could obtain, more recognition and protection from that party than from the Democratic. The Republican party was the party of large land grants, of liberal appropriations and of corporation tendencies. In presidential elections Mr. Gould often contributed heavily to the Republican campaign fund, and his check was always solicited and joyfully received. In 1880 his money was probably part of that which bought Indiana for the Republicans, and it was charged that he obtained reward from President Garfield in the appointment of Stanley Matthews as associate justice of the Supreme Court, whose views relative to the Pacific railroads and other corporation questions were understood to be favorable to Gould. This charge, of course, was hard to prove, and may be unjust to both Garfield and Matthews.
In 1884 Gould supported Blaine. He was present at the celebrated millionaire dinner given to Blaine at Delmonico’s two or three evenings before the election, and which, with the Burchard incident, probably turned the evenly-balanced scales of public opinion against the Maine statesman. Gould’s money was powerful and his presence was contaminating, and the public distrusted any of its servants who seemed to be friendly with him.
One of the most sensational stories about Mr. Gould’s career is told by a prominent politician now in Washington.
“His next appearance here after the ‘Black Friday’ excitement,” said the politician, “was when he tried to bribe Congress to let up on the Union Pacific railroad, which then owed the government $1,000,000,000. He desired the passage of a bill giving favorable terms to the railroad in adjusting its outstanding liabilities with the government. Huntington was here with Gould. Money was plentiful as water. As one man who got some of it said, ‘All that was necessary to do was to stretch your hand and take it.’ Gould, flushed by success with his own creatures, fancied he could buy a majority. In fact, he thought he could buy the entire Congress if he desired. He went into a prominent senator’s room on Fourteenth street whom he knew slightly. He told him he wanted to talk to him about the pending bill. ‘Mr. Gould,’ the senator replied, ‘if you want to see me about public affairs, you will have to call on me at the senate.’
“‘But I don’t want to go to the senate. I won’t go there. I want your assistance and I desire to make it worth your while to assist me.’
“‘Mr. Gould,’ said the senator, rising and pointing to the door, ‘oblige me by leaving my rooms.’
“Gould, dumbfounded, went. But he was more successful elsewhere. He needed forty votes. I saw a list on the day the debate was to end. It contained the names of forty-three senators who were to vote for the bill. I called old Thurman out. I told him he was beaten. He asked why. ‘Because,’ I said, ‘Gould and Huntington have forty-three votes.’ He said it was impossible and I told him of the list I had seen. He wanted the list. I doubted my ability to get it. ‘You must get it,’ he said. I was a correspondent, and after a while secured the list and copied it for my paper. Then I showed it to Thurman. He put on his glasses, took a pinch of snuff, read the list, and exclaiming, ‘This is just what I want,’ rushed into the senate.
“When Stanley Matthews, one of Gould’s creatures, who was speaking, sat down, Senator Thurman rose to close the debate. I was in the press gallery. Gould and Huntington sat in the senators’ special gallery with the list of their creatures in their hands to check off every senator as he voted in order that they might know who were faithful to their bribes. They smiled pityingly when the old Roman began. They did not believe in integrity. To them every man had his price, and they had paid the price of a majority—Thurman’s speech could not hurt them. It was a magnificent speech. Thurman rang all the changes and his honest face, his earnest voice, imposing presence and piercing eyes made many a public bribe-taker wince. His eloquence was wonderful, and toward the last the smile of pity on Gould’s face gave way to a look of anxiety and that to fear. When in ending, the old Roman, rising to his fullest height, cried out: ‘It has been charged that mighty millionaires have purchased a majority of this senate; that they have collars around the necks of forty-three. There are circumstances which suggest, if they do not prove, the correctness of that charge. Can it be true? A list has been prepared containing the names of the forty-three. Here it is.’