GOULD LAID TO REST.
The first intention, after the death of Jay Gould, was that the
funeral services over his remains should be as public as the limited
accommodations of the house would permit. Ex-Judge John T. Dillon,
who had been one of the legal advisers of Mr. Gould, and Dr. Munn,
Mr. Gould’s personal and private physician, met nearly all of the
members of the family and agreed upon funeral arrangements with that
understanding. But it was soon discovered that the probable result of a
public funeral would be a blockade of Fifth avenue, and the intention
was consequently abandoned.
The funeral services were held in the mansion where he had lived and
died, at four o’clock Monday afternoon, December 5, 1892.
They were heard by his children, whom he had loved, and by many others
whom he had known well in life, and some tears fell as they were
uttered--not so many, perhaps, as have fallen at the funerals of other
men who have attained prominence--and on his coffin were lying flowers,
placed there by the hands of affection and of friendship, tokens of
sorrow, clearly sincere and deep, that those who gave them would see
him no more.
Outside of the house Fifth avenue and Forty-seventh street were crowded
with inquisitive men and women, who were grievously disappointed
because they were not allowed to enter to look at the face of the dead
and to stare at the trappings of wealth. But the policemen who guarded
the entrance were inexorable, and there was nothing to do but to stand
on the pavement and gaze at those who entered and at the walls and
windows.
In the early morning there were many callers at the house. Most of them
were from out of town, and had come to attend the funeral services.
They were met at the door by George Gould. Those who desired were
permitted to go upstairs and look at the face of the dead. The body
was in the rear bedroom on the second floor. It had not been disturbed
since it was first lifted from the bed where Mr. Gould died on Friday
morning. It was in a mahogany box surrounded by flowers and covered
with a black cloth. A servant stood at the head and lifted the cloth
for each visitor. None of the callers stayed more than a few minutes.
They went across the street to the Windsor Hotel to await the hour for
the holding of the services.
About 10 o’clock Undertaker Main called with two assistants. A moment
later a wagon drove up to the Forty-seventh street basement entrance,
and the coffin was carried into the house and up to the room where the
body was. The wagon stood there an hour, and then the men who had gone
in with Undertaker Main carried out the mahogany case and pushed it
into the vehicle and drove away. A little later Undertaker Main came
out. He said the body had been carried down stairs and was in the
parlor, where it would lie while the services were held. While he was
talking two wagon loads of camp chairs arrived. One contained twelve
and the other fifteen dozen. They were carried into the house. Even at
this hour in the morning the people in the street showed a disposition
to stop, and had it been permitted there would have been a crowd in
front of the house that would have blocked the street from curb to curb.
When it was announced that the funeral would be public Capt. Reilly
arranged to have one hundred policemen on the spot from early morning,
but the later decision to admit only the intimate friends of the family
made the captain change his plan. Until noon only four uniformed men
were on duty. One of these was in Forty-seventh street. Two were on the
east and one on the west side of Fifth avenue. They pushed along any
one who stopped more than a moment. Some were indignant, and talked
back at the officers. Their talk generally resulted in a gentle push
and an order to “Come now, hurry up. You can’t stand here.” About
noon, two policemen, Sergeant Kelly and Roundsman Bingham came, and
a few minutes later a dozen men from the Central office in citizen’s
dress. Four of them were detailed to do service inside the house, and
the others were to mix in the small crowd that was to be permitted
to gather. They had orders to get together at the very first word
that indicated a disturbance and squelch the offender on the spot.
As a reserve force in case anything should happen, Capt. Reilly had
twenty-five men in their rooms at the station-house ready to march on
the double quick.
The first of the party who arrived at the house to attend the funeral
were three women in deep mourning, an elderly man and two young men.
They came about noon. They were Mr. Gould’s sisters, Mrs. Northrup and
Mrs. Palen, and Mrs. Northrup’s daughter and two sons, and Mr. Abraham
Gould, Mr. Jay Gould’s brother. They came from Philadelphia on an early
train, and went direct to the house. The police vigilance to prevent
the gathering of any crowd was kept up until 1 o’clock, when Capt.
Reilly arrived. He said that people might gather half a dozen deep on
the west side curb and above and below the house on the east side, but
wide passages must be kept open. Sergeant Kelly and Roundsman Bingham
were put on duty on the steps of the Gould house. Dr. Munn talked with
them a few moments in the vestibule. He told them they were to question
everybody and were not to let anybody pass who did not convince them of
his right to enter the house. They were also to keep the steps clear.
Five minutes after Capt. Reilly issued his order to let the little
crowd gather, every inch of space he had allotted to them was taken.
At first it was a crowd composed exclusively of poor people. They were
poorly dressed and many of them looked poorly fed. Curiosity only had
induced them to come. They had not hoped to get into the house. While
this crowd stood in the street there was a hurry and bustle in the
corridor of the Windsor Hotel. The men the poorer people came to see
were forming parties. The directors of the great railroad companies,
the Union Pacific, the Missouri Pacific, and the others, were getting
together. Frank Hain, Julien T. Davies, and Charles A. Gardener,
representing the Manhattan Elevated railroad, were among them. William
C. Whitney had charge of one party.
Once, early in the afternoon, there was what appeared to be a concerted
rush for the steps. A number of persons who were evidently under the
impression that the public was to be admitted at 3 o’clock made a start
at that hour, and two or three hundred others followed. Up they rushed,
and, although the policemen shouted, “Get back! You can’t go in,” a few
did make their way into the house. They were quickly ejected, however,
and thereafter only individual efforts were made to get in. Some of
these were persisted in stubbornly, but without success.
Oddly enough, women pleaded the hardest to be allowed to pass through
the big oak door, women of more than middle age, most of them, who
could give no better reason for wanting to see the face of the dead
railway king than that they “just wanted to see it.” Some declared
that they had come from great distances for that purpose alone. They
went away and returned to beg again. Yet all of them admitted finally
that they had never known Mr. Gould or any of the family. His children
glanced furtively out of the windows at the motley crowd and gave
thanks that the early intention to admit the public had been abandoned.
The throngs began to gather as early as noon, and by 1 o’clock there
were 500 or 600 persons near the house. For some time the policemen
kept them on the west side of the street, where there was no sunshine
and where it was chilly. Yet they held their positions.
In the house during the early afternoon Undertaker Main’s assistants
were busy arranging camp chairs in the two parlors, in the dining-room
in the rear of the house, and in the spacious hallway which runs from
the entrance to the dining-room.
The body of Mr. Gould was taken from the temporary receptacle in which
it had been lying since Friday, and placed in the oak casket covered
with black broadcloth. At 3 o’clock it was carried down stairs and
placed with head toward the east on a standard in front of a broad
mirror on the south wall that reached from floor to ceiling.
In the hallway, just back of the reception room, to the left of the
entrance and alongside the staircase, was placed a small organ, in
front of which the choir of Dr. Paxton’s church was to stand.
Dr. John P. Munn, Mr. Gould’s physician, took up his position in the
vestibule soon after 3 o’clock. No one could enter unless he knew them
or unless they presented credentials which were not to be questioned.
Owing to the sagacity of Roundsman Bingham of the East Fifty-first
street police station and a number of central office detectives and
police men in citizen’s dress, not a great many reached the doctor whom
he had to turn away.
One gray-haired woman, by exhibiting a card, got by the policeman and
reached Dr. Munn. To him she said, smiling agreeably, that she had no
wish to be intrusive, and then the door being open she sought to push
by him. Detective McCloskey, of the central office, who was attending
the door, closed it, and a policeman appeared just then and escorted
the woman down to the street.
Although the services were not to begin until 4 o’clock the friends
began to come before 3. After passing the policemen at the entrance and
Dr. Munn, four detectives from police headquarters were encountered.
Detective Sergeant Heidelberg stood in the vestibule, Detective
Sergeant McCloskey in the inner hall and Detectives Frink and Titus
near the dining-room. As the guests were admitted they were shown
through the hall to the drawing-room. There they formed in line and
passed by the coffin slowly, so that each could get a view of the body,
and then passed into the second drawing-room or through the latter to
the hall or dining-room. Three ushers found seats for them. None of
the family was visible. George Gould had been down earlier in the day
and had received some callers, but he retired before the first of the
funeral guests arrived. He and the other members of the immediate
family, Abraham Gould, Mrs. Northrup and Mrs. Palen, and their
children, were gathered in the hall of the second story, where they
could hear the music and prayers without being seen by those below.
Some remoter relatives and their friends sat in the rear of the second
drawing-room. The dining-room was filled first, and here the directors
of the Union Pacific, the Manhattan Elevated and the Missouri Pacific
railroads and the Western Union Telegraph Company were seated.
The shades were drawn in all the rooms and the electric lights were
turned on. At 3:30 o’clock the second drawing-room, the dining-room and
the hall were filled. Everybody sat silent during the half hour that
elapsed before the services began. The only man who spoke at all, and
he confined himself to whispers, was Russell Sage. Except the coffin,
the object that attracted the most attention was the oil portrait of
Jay Gould, which hung against the rear wall of the dining-room. All
in that room and many in the hall could see it, and their eyes were
turned toward it a large part of the time. It had been painted before
Mr. Gould’s illness, and looked utterly unlike the face in the coffin.
Instead of the expression of peace and indifference which marked the
latter, there shown out from the countenance of the portrait a look of
triumph. The face of the dead man was commonplace beside that in the
gilt frame.
[Illustration: WHERE JAY GOULD RESTS.]
The hour set for the beginning of the services, four o’clock, was
indicated to those seated in the parlors and halls and to the members
of the family who were on the second floor, first by four cheerful,
jingling strokes of a Swiss clock in the dining-room, and then by four
sonorous and vibrating sounds from the large clock in the rear parlor.
Pastor John R. Paxton walked to the reception room and escorted the
Rev. Roderick Terry, pastor of the South Reformed church, which Mrs.
Jay Gould attended, and Chancellor MacCracken of the University of the
City of New York, to seats near the doorway of the parlor, about half
way down the hall.
Dr. Paxton took his place in this doorway, facing those in the hall. At
his right, and at the head of those who sat in the hall, were Chauncey
M. Depew, who observed the ceiling contemplatively during the ceremony,
and Collis P. Huntington, who wore a skull cap and looked steadily and
intently at the hall carpet.
The opening strains of the anthem, “There is a Land Immortal,” were
played by Organist and Musical Director P. A. Schnecker at 4:05 p. m.,
and the singing was by Mrs. Charles Herbert Clarke, soprano, who took
the place of Mme. Clementine De Vere-Sapio, the regular choir soprano,
who was indisposed; Mrs. Carl Alves, contralto; Charles Herbert Clarke,
tenor, and Ericcson F. Bushnell, bass. Extemporaneous prayer, in which
only the Presbyterian service differs from that of the Episcopal
church, was offered by Dr. Paxton in these words:
“Oh, eloquent, just and mighty Death, whom none couldst outwit thou
takest in thy toils; whom none could convince thou persuadeth;
whom none could overthrow thou subdueth--mighty Death!
“Dire discouragement of human end, we bless God for our Christian
faith in which Jesus Christ hath abolished death. We bless Thee
that He plucked the stain from sin, that He robbed the grave of
its victory, and that He filled the heavens with the ministrations
of our heavenly hope in this splendor, where we hope to renew life
beyond the tomb.
“We bless Thee, Heavenly Father, for Thy Son our Lord Jesus Christ,
for our knowledge that the grave is not a dungeon but a door
opening into other worlds and a new and higher life. We bless Thee
that the grave is not a terminus, the final resting place, the
be-all and end-all of man, but that it is only the stopping place,
an inn where we humble travelers sleep the long sweet sleep on our
way to the New Jerusalem.
“May the Divine Spirit be present with us in these sad solemn
services, and may the light of the resurrection morn shine into
this darkened and bereaved house, and may comfort, that with which
God comforteth His own, touch with heavenly and hopeful grace the
hearts of our friends here, wounded and bleeding still for the loss
of him they all loved so well. Amen.”
Dr. Paxton read that part of the service beginning, “I am the
resurrection and the life,” and the quartet sang the beautiful hymn of
Cardinal Newman, “Lead, Kindly Light, Amid the Encircling Gloom.” Then
the Rev. Mr. Terry read the second part of the burial service, at the
conclusion of which Chancellor MacCracken offered prayer as follows:
“O, Father, Thou only art perfectly wise, kind, just, true and
good. Therefore it is that our hearts turn to Thee in this trying
hour. Strengthen us now. Quicken our hearts in faith, that we may
strive to be like Thee. Make us, as Thou hast commanded us to be,
steadfast and immovable, and always abounding in the work of the
Lord.
“O Father, pity those that mourn here. Have special compassion on
the children of this home, whom Thou hast sorely grieved. Because
Thou hast taken from the children of this family both father and
mother, do Thou comfort them, Thou Divine Comforter. Grant unto
them faith, hope and love, Thy Divine special gifts. Grant unto
these bereaved ones the peace which this world, with all its
treasures, does not give.”
“Nearer, My God, to Thee” was then sung, after which Dr. Paxton
announced that the services would be concluded at the grave in Woodlawn
cemetery the following day by Chancellor MacCracken.
He invited those present to take a look at their departed friend, whose
soul had gone to its Maker. The line formed in the rear of the parlor
and marched slowly by the casket, the upper part of the cover of which
had been removed.
Among those who attended the services were the following:
Representing the Manhattan Elevated Company--Second Vice-President and
General Manager F. K. Hain, Secretary and Treasurer D. W. McWilliams,
Julien T. Davies and Charles A. Gardiner, the company’s counsel.
Representing the Western Union Telegraph Company--President Norvin
Green, Vice-President and General Manager Thomas T. Eckert,
Vice-Presidents John Van Home and Robert C. Clowry, Treasurer R. H.
Rochester, and William B. Somerville, Superintendent of the Press
Service.
Representing the Missouri Pacific Railroad Company--First
Vice-President and General Manager S. H. H. Clark, Assistant General
Manager George C. Smith, Secretary and Treasurer A. H. Calef, Local
Treasurer D. S. H. Smith, General Auditor C. G. Warner, General
Attorney for Western States B. P. Waggener, General Solicitor A. G.
Cochran, and John C. Wands.
Representing the Union Pacific--Vice-President E. F. Atkins, Director
Frederick L. Ames, Secretary Alexander Miller, Treasurer James G.
Harris, and Controller Oliver W. Mink of Boston, and Director Joseph H.
Millard of Omaha.
J. B. Houston, Vice-President of the Pacific Mail Steamship Company,
and Mrs. Houston; Austin Corbin, President of the Long Island Railroad
Company and a Western Union Director; S. W. Fordyce, President of the
St. Louis Southwestern Railway Company; John G. Moore, a Director of
the Missouri Pacific road; Henry B. Hyde, President of the Equitable
Life Assurance Society and a Union Pacific Director; George G.
Williams, President of the Chemical National Bank; J. Edward Simmons,
President of the Fourth National Bank; Edward H. Perkins, Jr.,
President of the Importers’ and Traders’ National Bank; A. S. Frissell,
President of the Fifth Avenue National Bank; ex-Judge John F. Dillon;
W. B. Doddridge, a Director of the St. Louis Southwestern Railway;
Washington E. Connor, Gould’s former partner; Samuel Sloan, President
of the Delaware, Lackawanna and Western Railroad Company and a Director
of the Missouri Pacific and Western Union companies.
Chauncey M. Depew, President, and H. Walter Webb, Third Vice-President,
of the New York Central and Hudson River Railroad; H. G. Marquand,
Collis P. Huntington, a Director of the Western Union Telegraph
Company; John Bigelow, Addison Cammack, Henry Villard, Henry Clews,
Simon Wormser, a Director of the Manhattan Elevated Company; Herbert
H. Dickson, Mr. Gould’s personal lawyer; J. Pierpont Morgan, a Western
Union Director; William H. Blackford, representative of Charles F.
Mayer, President of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad; Whitelaw Reid,
John H. Inman, William D. Bishop, of New Haven, a Western Union
Director; Jesse Seligman, Mr. and Mrs. James Seligman, Mrs. Helman, Dr.
Virgil P. Gibney and mother, Dr. Jarrett Baldwin, Mrs. B. S. Clark,
ex-Senator and Mrs. John J. Kiernan, Judge Rufus B. Cowing, of the
Court of General Sessions; Dr. Matthew D. Field, Sidney Dillon Ripley,
William H. Kissam, J. Seaver Page, ex-Governor Alonzo B. Cornell, a
Western Union Director; J. H. Villard, Alexander Miller, Frank Kernan,
J. M. Morgan, James Gurnie, John D. Crimmins, J. C. Pierce, Gen. G.
M. Dodge, A. S. Hopkins, Gen. Louis Fitzgerald,. Ogden Mills, C. C.
Baldwin, F. K. Sturgis, Cornelius N. Bliss, Benjamin Brewster, William
Rockefeller, E. P. Vining, Maughan Carter, a relative of Mrs. Gould,
and Reid Northrup and Daniel Northrup, nephews of Mr. Gould.
Every one of those who saw the face remarked afterward upon its extreme
naturalness. The beard had been cut rather shorter than Mr. Gould wore
it in life, and that and the displacement of the swarthiness of his
complexion by the death pallor were the only changes in his appearance.
The many rare flowers were placed surrounding the casket. The most
beautiful was a floral cross which Miss Helen Gould had ordered. It was
composed of pink orchids tied with a silk ribbon, and was placed on
top of the coffin. Next to it was a bunch of bride roses from Howard
Gould. A five-foot broken column of white roses, crowned by violets,
with the word “Father” in violets at the base, stood at the head of the
coffin on a table. It was from George Gould. Miss Annie Gould sent a
bunch of white orchids, Edwin Gould a wreath of lilies of the valley,
bride roses and orchids; Frank Gould a bunch of lilies of the valley
and orchids, and George Gould’s children an enormous pillow of orchids,
roses, lilies of the valley and violets, with the word “Grandpa” in the
center. This rested on the floor beneath the coffin.
A handsome wreath of lilies of the valley, orchids and bride roses
was received from Mrs. Hall of 559 Fifth avenue. Mrs. Herbert sent a
bunch of lilies of the valley and roses. Gen. Thomas Eckert sent a
wreath of orchids and roses. Mrs. Dillon Brown sent a bunch of lilies
of the valley and orchids. J. B. Houston sent a full-rigged ship made
of lilies of the valley, roses and violets, with two flags flying and
this inscription in violets: “The Voyage Ended--Safe in Port.” The ship
was placed on a gilt cabinet in the northeast corner, and the other
pieces were disposed about the room. A large number of persons had
been expected, and arrangements had been made accordingly. Many camp
chairs had been piled up in the hall, the second drawing-room and the
dining-room.
After all the visitors had gone, the members of the family, including
Mr. Gould’s brother, Abraham, and his sisters, Mrs. Palen and Mrs.
Northrup, took a last look at the features, and the casket was closed.
Although it grew bitterly cold in the late afternoon, the crowd outside
did not diminish while the services were in progress. Occasionally the
onlookers crowded up to the gates so that the four uniformed policemen
had to get together and push them back. A picturesque feature, but
by no means a pleasant one, was the presence of several unwashed,
long-haired individuals, supposedly Anarchists, raggedly clothed and
with red cotton neckerchiefs, who stood muttering and cursing to
themselves and glaring fixedly upon the house.
A wily speculator had obtained possession of some visiting cards of
Edwin Gould, and had sold them at a premium. Many of his customers
presented these to the policemen, and they seemed quite surprised and
chagrined when they were told they would not be recognized.
One elderly woman, in a black bombazine dress, with an old-fashioned
bonnet, became extremely indignant because she was not allowed to enter
the mansion. She said she lived “up in the state,” and that she had
traveled sixty miles especially to attend the funeral of Jay Gould.
“It is a shame,” she cried, waving a rusty parasol and speaking to
the crowd in the street. “They’re rich enough. Why didn’t they hire a
church?”
Another peculiarity about the sidewalk spectators was that nearly all
the men and boys were either German or Russian, while the greater part
of the women were also foreigners. The crowd climbed up the stoops of
the adjoining and neighboring residences until they were driven away
by servants with the aid of the police. Every time the great glass
doors opened at the Gould residence there was a craning of necks and a
rush for the stoop. There was absolutely nothing to be seen except the
undertaker’s assistants.
One woman told a little circle around her that she had seen the casket,
and seemed very proud of her achievement and the distinction which it
conferred upon her in the eyes of her auditors.
During all this time Fifth avenue was crowded with handsome equipages
of all kinds going to and from the park. Among those who drove by were
John Jacob Astor and his wife in a stylish drag. Neither the Anarchists
nor the other spectators recognized them, or there might have been,
judging from the character of the crowd, some unpleasant demonstration.
The police, however, were very alert, and kept a watchful eye upon
every movement of the crowd.
The majority of the men who attended the funeral walked to and from the
house. When the services were over and the doors were opened, the first
to step out were H. Walter Webb and Chauncey M. Depew. Mr. Depew was,
of course, recognized, but Whitelaw Reid, who followed him, was not. As
the guests came out of the house the police still had some difficulty
in keeping the crowd back. A number of women fell into line, expecting
that they would be admitted to the house as soon as the invited guests
had departed. Finding that this was not the case, they lingered for
a few minutes and then slowly went their way. In fifteen minutes
the crowd disappeared entirely, and the avenue resumed its normal
appearance.
The following morning the remains of Jay Gould were placed beside those
of his wife in the mausoleum in Woodlawn cemetery. They were placed in
a catacomb at just half past twelve. Barring the irreverent chatter
of the idle onlookers, nearly all of whom were women, no words were
uttered except by Chancellor MacCracken. A crowd gathered in front of
the Gould residence early this morning. Two policemen kept them back,
and they stood around and looked angry. At 9:30 the flowers were taken
to the cemetery. Soon after 10 o’clock the hearse and eight carriages
appeared. It was an extremely plain hearse and the carriages, except
George Gould’s smart brougham, were of the ordinary four-wheeled
funeral variety. The immediate members of the family entered them and
Undertaker Main, alone in a carriage, led the way up Fifth avenue to
the cemetery. After the brief services were over the mourners departed.
The mausoleum in Woodlawn cemetery in which the dead multi-millionaire
is resting is more magnificent and costly than the homes of many people
whose money paid for it. The station on the New York and Harlem river
railroad is near the northeast corner of the cemetery. Central avenue
goes by the office of the superintendent and winds through the snowy
slopes for about half a mile. About fifty feet from this avenue rises a
mound crowned by a tiny Greek temple. That is Jay Gould’s tomb.
The plot of ground is circular and contains 30,000 square feet. The
price of ground in such a select location is $2 per square foot, so the
space alone cost $60,000.
Before the work began Mr. Gould made three stipulations about the
construction of the mausoleum. First, that it should be built as
strongly and as massively as possible; second, that it should not be
pretentiously large; third, that as great simplicity as possible in the
construction should be observed. Upon this last point Mr. Gould laid
the greatest stress.
The mausoleum is built throughout of westerly granite. It is
thirty-three feet long, twenty-two feet wide and twenty feet high to
the apex of the roof. It is often said to be a copy of the Parthenon,
but that is not true. The Parthenon was a Doric structure; this is
Ionic. The technical name of the building would be a Greek hexastyle,
peripteral temple. It has six columns in front and eleven columns on
each side in single rows. In its proportions and many of its details
it is more like the old temple of Theseus, at Athens, than any ancient
building extant.
Three rows of steps run up to the temple on all sides and form its
base. Between the columns and the walls of the temple is a considerable
space. Columns and walls are bare, without the faintest attempt at
ornamentation.
In the center of the row of columns facing the south it looks as if a
column had been removed to make a broad passageway. Facing this opening
is the double door of the tomb. Each section of this door is eight
feet high and two feet wide, and weighs a ton. The doors are of heavy
bronze, and the lower part is paneled and ornamented on the outside
with two dragons’ heads, a big iron ring swinging in the mouth of each
dragon. The upper part of the doors is a fretwork of cherubs and vines,
through the opening of which the interior of the crypt can be seen.
Peering through the interstices one may see the narrow hall lined with
polished Tennessee marbles. The pavement is of tesselated marble in
three shades, a creamy yellow, a pale pink and a pale violet. The body
of the floor is in the pale violet, with two brands of the pink and
yellow crossing it.
The interior is 20 feet long, 7 feet wide and 13 feet high. Its roof
is a solid slab of granite, which weighs six tons. The border of the
ceiling is paneled with egg and dart moulding. The floor is one plain
marble slab. Along the sides of the interior are the catacombs. Of
these there are twenty, ten on each side, in double rows. The rows are
separated from each other by granite slabs. Each catacomb is 7½ feet
long and 2½ feet wide. Between the lower end of the catacombs and the
outside of the wall of the tomb is a thickness of 18 inches. The outer
part of this thickness is, of course, granite, but facing the interior
the walls are of light pink and cream-colored Tennessee marble, highly
polished. The light enters the crypt through a stained glass window in
the back. This window, which is 6 feet high and 3 feet wide, pictures a
choir of angels.
The roof of the mausoleum consists of granite slabs 32 feet long, each
weighing 15 tons, and so placed together that they overlap, making the
roof waterproof. The whole temple weighs about 300 tons, and rests on a
solid concrete foundation 8 feet thick.
The second rear catacomb from the bottom, on the left-hand side
entering the tomb, is that of Mrs. Gould, who died January 13, 1889,
and was interred January 16th. The letters “Emily Day Miller, wife
of Jay Gould,” with the dates of her birth and death, are in high
relief on the polished slab. Mrs. Gould’s body is the only one in the
mausoleum.
The tomb was completed in 1883, and cost $50,000. Land and all it cost
$110,000.