The private mail of the president of Harvard College contained one morning, the latter part of April, 1895, a letter which was ever afterwards preserved as the most important document in the archives of the great university. Its appearance before it was opened gave no indication of its importance. It was enclosed in a plain, square, white envelope, postmarked “New York,” and in addition to the address it was marked “Personal” in bold letters, heavily underlined.

As the president opened it and took out the single sheet of note-paper within, another slip fell upon the table, blank side uppermost. The shape and the perforated edge around two sides of the slip suggested a check, and the president carelessly turned it over before looking at the note. It was a check, and when he caught sight of the figures in one corner the serene dignity of the eminent savant was betrayed into an exclamation that made him seem for the moment quite like other men. He readjusted his spectacles in genuine agitation and stared at the check for some moments before he recovered his self-possession sufficiently to read the letter. This was the epistle:

That was all—just a curt, matter-of-fact business communication. It could not be a hoax, for the check was certified by the Chemical National Bank. It needed but the president’s name on the back to make it worth the five millions in cash which it called for. The more he thought about it the nearer the president’s mind approached to a condition of excitement. He got up and took a turn around the room. His secretary came in just then, but stopped in amazement on discovering evidences of an agitation which he had never detected before in his chief.

“Is there anything the matter, sir?” he asked anxiously.

“Nothing at all,” responded the head of America’s greatest university, with a partial return to his usual placid manner. “I am glad you came in. I wish you would call a special meeting of the Fellows, to be held here at four o’clock this afternoon. Send special messengers and telegrams and say that the business will be of the utmost importance.”

The secretary’s apprehensions increased, but he hastened to obey instructions. The next day the papers announced the magnificent gift to Harvard and tried in vain to gratify the universal curiosity about the unknown donor.

If there was any envy of Harvard’s good fortune at New Haven, it was dissipated two or three days later when Yale rejoiced in the receipt of a mysterious gift of the same magnificent proportions. In the case of Yale, however, the endowment was coupled with a condition or request which excited much surprise and made no end of talk. The mysterious donor asked that half of the five millions should be set apart as a fund to be used under the direction of the Yale Scientific School in practical investigation of the subject of aËrial navigation. This was a trust which the university accepted with a good deal of misgiving. When the matter was considered by the trustees there was even some opposition to the acceptance of this portion of the donation on such terms.

“Must we set our professors to building flying machines, and compel them to risk their necks in balloons?” exclaimed one of the older members of the board in some asperity, and with small measure of gratitude to the giver of such a fund. “For my part, I hope the university will not go to the absurd extreme of turning our scientific school into a Darius Green workshop to gratify a generous but whimsical millionaire.”

But the old gentleman was in a small minority, and he was quite silenced by the remarks of a younger and more progressive member, whose investigations in practical science had made him famous. Besides, who ever heard of a gift of $2,500,000 being refused by an educational institution, no matter how hard the conditions?

“I do not regard this gift as either absurd or whimsical,” said the man of science and sense, with much emphasis. “On the contrary, I welcome it with enthusiasm as a practical pledge of the next and greatest triumph of civilization. AËrial navigation is the one branch of practical science in which America is not keeping pace with the foremost investigators. France and Germany and even Russia have obtained better results than we have. The reason, of course, is that there are military incentives in Europe which do not exist here. But I firmly believe that this gift will enable us to gain the same mastery of the paths of the winds that we have already won over the land and the sea. No gift to the cause of physical science could be more valuable and more timely than this. I hope it will be accepted with the sincerest expression of our gratitude.”

And so it was. National curiosity was again aroused to highest pitch. Nor was it allowed to subside, for within a month fresh benefactions, all anonymous and all dealing with large sums, were announced. Chicago’s fund for a memorial of the Columbian Fair received a round million. New York rejoiced in the news that Samuel J. Tilden’s thwarted attempt to provide a magnificent free library for his fellow-citizens was to succeed after all. Three millions had come from somewhere—the trustees would not say where—to be used in carrying out the plans of the dead statesman on the same scale that he had wisely designed.

Wellesley and Vassar became involved in the same delightful mystery. Woman’s curiosity in her chief seats of learning was put under the strain of accepting without question gifts of $2,000,000 to each institution from an unknown hand. The test or the temptation was safely borne, for no hint of even the manner in which the princely fortunes were bestowed ever reached an outsider’s ear. There were no restrictions accompanying these gifts, beyond a request in each case that they should be devoted mainly to those branches of training and study which best fitted woman for the domestic circle. Inasmuch as this suggestion was construed to admit of almost any interpretation in the field of “the higher education of woman,” it was felt to be no restriction at all. Who dared assert that a knowledge of Greek, a familiarity with the latest mysteries of astronomy, and a training in the higher mathematics did not deserve important places in the equipment of woman for the domestic circle of 1895? When it was proposed in the governing boards of the two colleges that the departments of physical training, English literature, music, and the culinary art should benefit in greater proportion than certain others under the new funds, the makers of the suggestion were frowned upon with some scorn. It was undoubtedly the intention of their unknown benefactor, so declared the more advanced spirits in the great cause of “the emancipation of woman,” that his money should be used in providing that broad culture which alone would make the woman of the twentieth century the highest development of her sex. She should have the same advantages, the same training as her brothers. In no other way could she become “best fitted for the domestic circle.”

No such impetus was ever given the cause of education in America as it received in the spring of 1895 from this great series of contributions. The subject became a matter of world-wide wonder and discussion. It did not seem possible that such treasure could come all from one source, and yet no such epidemic of generosity among millionaires had ever been heard of. There were not half a dozen men in the country who could make presents of $5,000,000 checks. Speculation, and there was plenty of it, was in vain, however. The secret was well kept by all its possessors, and beyond a few hints that the eccentric distributor of millions was a New Yorker, who kept a balance of at least $5,000,000 in cash always on hand at the Chemical Bank, nothing transpired.

In the rapid life of the American metropolis curiosity over this subject was soon overshadowed by a new wonder. The city’s most grievous public problem, the bÊte noire of a decade, was suddenly solved. Vainly had private enterprise and public commissions sought to provide the congested city a satisfactory system of rapid transit. The growth of the town had been checked, its prosperity had been restricted, and infinite personal discomfort had been suffered by its citizens, because of the peculiar difficulties of the situation. In a city long and narrow, densely populated, and surrounded on three sides by water, the quick arteries of passenger travel must go below the surface or into the air. Everybody who has traveled on the London underground railroad will admit that the tunnel system is to be avoided at any reasonable expense. But everybody else who has walked beneath the elevated tracks in New York, or lodged near the line, will say that railways in the public streets are an almost intolerable nuisance.

The only system satisfactory in itself which had been proposed in New York was a great four-track viaduct line, running, not through the streets, but upon its own location cut through the center of the blocks from end to end of the city. But the plan could not be considered for a moment. The expense was prohibitive. It would cost $100,000,000 for right of way and construction, to say nothing of equipment. The revenue from such a road would not pay interest on such an enormous sum, and private capital would not undertake the enterprise. Some people had urged the project upon the city as a municipal undertaking. Perhaps in an ideal community such a suggestion might be valuable, but not in a city ruled by Tammany Hall or any other political party.

So the question was at a deadlock, and the evils of the situation had become well-nigh intolerable, when the mayor of New York received one day in June a letter from the now well-known firm of Strong & Co., containing an amazing proposition. They were prepared to organize a corporation, and guarantee the construction of such a viaduct road as had been proposed, provided the city would consent to certain conditions. The road would be built with the proceeds of an issue of $100,000,000 in bonds, which Strong & Co. offered to subscribe in full. These bonds should bear interest—and here was the amazing feature of the proposition—at the rate of one per cent per annum. No one could doubt that the proposed road would easily earn the necessary $1,000,000 per year for payment of interest on bonds which the proposition called for, and it would surely yield a substantial sum for dividends on stock in addition.

The principal conditions imposed by Messrs. Strong & Co. in making their extraordinary offer was that the motive power used on the road should be electricity, or some other element than steam, and that a uniform rate of fare of five cents within the city limits should never be exceeded. It was further insisted that the charter should provide that the city should not take over the road by purchase or otherwise without the consent of two thirds of the bond-holders, and that capital stock should be issued only upon payment of its face value in cash into the company’s treasury, the total amount of such stock never to exceed $20,000,000, except by consent of the bond-holders. Messrs. Strong & Co. further suggested that dividends upon stock should be limited to ten per cent. When earnings exceeded the sum necessary for the payment of a ten per cent dividend, fares should be reduced below the current rate. If the mayor and his advisers approved of the plan as outlined they were invited to join in the name of the city with Messrs. Strong & Co. and others in petitioning the General Assembly at Albany for the necessary legislation.

The mayor read slowly the letter in which the plan was set forth in much greater detail than above outlined. When he had finished he looked out of the window upon the trees in the City Hall Park and whistled softly. He allowed his mind to dwell for a few moments upon the significance of what was contained in the plain epistle he held in his hand. Its meaning for the metropolis of the western world, over which he presided, was beyond his mental grasp at first. The one great peril which threatened to dwarf its prosperity and stunt its growth had been removed at a single stroke. It was too good to be true, and the mayor read the long letter from beginning to end a second time. The proposition was clear and specific, and the potent signature left no doubt of its genuineness. The mayor would have lost no time in sharing the good news with his friends and with the city itself; but a postscript contained a request that the matter should be regarded as confidential until there had been a personal exchange of views upon the subject. Messrs. Strong & Co. expressed a desire for a private consultation at any time the mayor might appoint. So the private secretary of His Honor was dispatched at once to New Street, to say that the mayor was quite ready to place his entire day, if desired, at the disposal of the firm.

Mr. John Wharton returned with the secretary to the City Hall, and for more than three hours he was closeted alone with the chief magistrate. When his visitor had gone the mayor dictated to his stenographer a statement for the press. He outlined the proposition of Strong & Co., who, he said, were acting on behalf of a syndicate which preferred to conceal its identity. Of its ability to carry out its proposal, the mayor declared he had received abundant assurance. The offer was not in his estimation, the mayor explained, in any ordinary sense a business proposition. It took rank instead as the greatest private or public benefaction of modern times. It was a boon which would change the whole future history of the metropolis and of the Empire State. It was an inestimable gift, and he called upon the city to join him in unmeasured gratitude to the unknown donors. Regarding the practical execution of the scheme, the mayor said:

“I have not hesitated to assure Messrs. Strong & Co., informally, that they may count upon the city’s grateful and unanimous acceptance of this munificent proposal, with all the public-spirited conditions which are attached. Although approval by the state legislature is necessary, I feel that an appeal to the governor to summon a special session for the purpose is not called for. Any material opposition to a plan so magnificent and patriotic is not conceivable. There appears, therefore, to be no good reason why the great preliminary work which such an enterprise involves should not proceed at once. Actual construction can then begin immediately after the necessary legislation has been provided next winter.”

There was a sensation in the morning newspaper offices when the mayor’s proclamation was received, and an army of reporters searched the city for more information about the latest wonder of wealth and philanthropy. The next morning all New York wondered, and so did the world at large. And the only people who did not join in the general rejoicing were the owners of the Manhattan Elevated Railroad. They saw in the announcement, beneath the black-typed headlines in all the newspapers, the doom of their great monopoly, the sudden birth of a power greater than theirs. How could they cope with it, how could they compel the city’s inhabitants to tolerate any longer their makeshift devices for postponing rather than solving a vital problem? They were helpless before this new monetary force, just as the people had been helpless before the selfish tyranny of the railroad company’s short-sightedness. Political power the Manhattan Company’s managers had, both in the municipal councils and at Albany, but of what use to exert it in face of such a proposition as this? No politician of any party would dare to put a straw in the way of its execution.

It is sometimes safe to defy an indifferent majority, but he is a fool who throws himself before the Juggernaut of roused and unanimous public opinion. The owners of the Manhattan Elevated Road were not fools in all things; so the first effect of the mayor’s news was a sharp decline in the price of their shares. The danger was, however, a distant one for them. By no possibility could so vast an undertaking be completed under five years, and within that time conditions would probably so change that there would be traffic enough to yield a reasonable profit to both systems. New bridges both to Long Island and New Jersey, to say nothing of tunnels, were also under way. These would furnish partial relief to the congestion, while they would bring fresh traffic to the short distance service, which would become an important part of the elevated railroad system. Competition in what may be termed the trunk-line business need not, therefore, be disastrous to existing rapid transit lines. It would rather come as a relief, just as the street-car lines found the opening of the elevated roads to be twenty years before.

But the public paid little attention to the first discomforture of the elevated railroad magnates. Rather they rejoiced in it, especially as the erstwhile masters of the situation soon began to manifest a more conciliatory attitude toward their suffering patrons. A new principle seemed to have been discovered in the offices of the octopus corporation. Grievances that were easy of correction were remedied. Public opinion was worth catering to when you needed it. Arrogant defiance on one side, and exasperated endurance and hearty hatred on the other, was a condition of things which must not be allowed to continue, when the sufferers and haters would soon be in a position to take full revenge. So a very strange but becoming humility softened the attitude of New York’s purveyors of so-called rapid transit. They endeavored to convince the people that really they were doing the best they could. And so unresentful is the average New Yorker, that after a few smiles at the hypocrisy of it all, he accepted the new facilities now supplied, and was appeased.

Public curiosity found little to feed on in its search after the secret of the new monster rapid transit fund. The newspapers interviewed every reputed millionaire in the city. All expressed entire ignorance of the scheme and its authors. It was plain, several newspapers declared, that no man or set of men could accumulate such a treasure without the world’s having some knowledge of their wealth. Some of those who denied having any information on the subject must, therefore, be lying. And forthwith a large portion of the press fell to speculating as to who the mysterious Croesus might be. For several days, everybody in the office of Strong & Co. was besieged with inquiries, not only from newspaper men, but from all manner of people. The annoyance became so wearisome that the firm drew up a statement which they sent to the newspapers, setting forth with some emphasis the fact that they were not at liberty to furnish any information about either the rapid transit scheme itself or its promoters. The plans were still crude. As fast as they were perfected they would be submitted to the authorities for approval, and would be given to the public. Meantime, they reserved the right to refuse to answer any inquiry bearing upon the subject.

After a few days, public interest became less keen. The quest seemed hopeless. Two or three multi-millionaires, whose names had been used with persistent freedom by certain journals, in spite of their denials, sent such emphatic contradictions of the stories which credited them with generosity, that the mystery was, by nearly all, abandoned as unfathomable.

When the matter had ceased to occupy the first place in public attention, nearly a month after the mayor’s original announcement, the following article appeared one morning, in double-headed type, on the first page of the Sun:

“The series of financial mysteries which has astonished the world during the past few months can reasonably be ascribed, in the absence of definite knowledge, to no more than a single source. Since early in December the mints and the bullion market have been glutted with gold. A flood of the precious metal has been poured into the Assay Office in this city at the rate of $50,000,000 a month. Prices in the stock market, in the face of most unfavorable conditions, have been forced to an abnormally high level by the rising tide of yellow treasure. The supply of actual money in the country has been increased during the last six months by almost, if not quite, $300,000,000.

“Various educational and other worthy institutions have been enriched within a few weeks by anonymous gifts amounting, at a safe estimate, to the vast sum of $22,000,000. There is good authority for saying that in one or two instances the checks received by the beneficiaries have come from the same banking house in this city which is credited with handling the bulk of the vast deposits of gold at the Assay Office. It is a reasonable inference that all these great benefactions have come from the same treasury. There are not more than half a dozen private fortunes in America large enough to afford charitable disbursements upon such a scale. The owners of these fortunes have denied all knowledge of the great donations. There is no good reason for doubting their word upon this point.

“Messrs. Strong & Co. are the only persons who are known in connection with this mysterious wealth. They refuse all information about the origin and extent of the fabulous riches which they are distributing broadcast, or about the identity of their principals. They are, of course, thoroughly within their legal rights in declining to take the public into their confidence. But the matter has become one of tremendous public concern. The stability of trade, the money value of every description of vested interests, in fact, the industrial, commercial, and financial welfare of the country, all are directly involved in the rapid manipulation of such vast sums. While admitting that this modern Midas has used his power most beneficently thus far, it should be pointed out that the possibilities of evil are enormous. In simple self-protection, therefore, the public is justified in seeking by all honorable means to learn what portends from the same source.

“Taking into consideration all the circumstances, the conclusion is forced upon any reasonable mind that it is virgin treasure which is dazzling the world. In other words, it is an outpouring of gold from nature’s storehouse, and not from any of man’s reservoirs, that we are witnessing. Thus far we are in utter ignorance of the location of the new El Dorado. That it is a region of almost inconceivable richness has been amply demonstrated. Nothing in the history of the Californian or Australian gold-fields will compare with it. The secret has been so well kept that it is impossible that it can be in the possession of many persons. It is a fair inference, therefore, that the deposit is within an extremely small area, and that the precious metal abounds there in an almost pure state. But in what quantities? Is the supply inexhaustible? The earth’s yield of gold is usually estimated in ounces. We now have it supplied by the ton.

“The question of an oversupply of gold may become a serious, even an appalling one. The problem threatens soon to become vital. The mystery cannot remain a mystery much longer. Civilization may in self-defense soon demand its solution. In the meantime, a single hint may be offered. Early in November last, the steamship Richmond returned from a mysterious trip, several weeks in length, under private charter. She brought back a cargo, said to consist of ores and other minerals from South America. Was there any connection between her cargo and the sudden distribution of gold which began in this market a month after her arrival?”

Late in the afternoon of the day this article appeared in the Sun, the head of one of the most prominent law firms in New York entered the office of that paper, and was soon closeted with the publisher. The two men were friends, and they chatted for a few moments on indifferent topics. Then said the lawyer seriously:

“Now to business, for I have come on an extraordinary errand. I remember a few years ago that some of your quarrelsome contemporaries accused the Sun, among other things, of being for sale. You replied to the insinuation in a short editorial which said, Yes, the Sun was for sale, and the price was $5,000,000. What I want to know is, whether that offer still holds good.”

“No, the price has gone up,” was the smiling reply.

“What is it now?”

“Ten millions.”

“Are you prepared to turn the property over at that figure?”

“Oh, yes—for spot cash,” still smiling.

“Will certified checks do?” and the lawyer took several checks from a wallet, and laid them on the desk in front of the other.

“See here, B——, what does this mean?” exclaimed the publisher, glancing from the drafts to his friend, while all signs of levity disappeared.

“Precisely what I have been saying. I am ready to close the bargain at the figures you have mentioned.”

“Who are you acting for?”

“That is the one thing I cannot tell you. Does it make any difference? If so, I can assure you that there is no political or other game back of the transaction. There is no intention to make any change whatever in the conduct of the paper, if our offer is accepted. But it must be accepted at once or it will be withdrawn. What do you say?”

“Of course, I must consult Mr. Dana and the other owners. I believe, however, it will be accepted.”

“Can you give me a final answer to-morrow?”

“I think so. Will you come in in the morning and talk the matter over with the directors? We can meet here at noon.”

“Yes, I will be here,” said the lawyer, picking up his checks and rising to go. “By the way, would it be fair under the circumstances for me to ask a single favor?”

“Certainly—anything in my power.”

“It is only that you will delay any investigation of the gold mystery until this matter is settled.”

“Oh, now I see which way the wind blows. We’ll talk of that to-morrow.”