Fourth Illustration: The Seven Days’ Battle—The “Brainy” Promoters and the Boys in Blue:
A nation in tears is the business man’s opportunity.
Any reference by a Thirtieth-of-May orator to the Seven Days’ Battle makes “big business men” and statesmen throw out their chests, pat their soft white hands and vociferate with perfectly beautiful patriotism. But let us look a little at the record.
In Chapter Three of the present volume it was briefly stated that one reason for the capitalists’ wanting war is that war completely concentrates a nation’s attention upon one thing and one thing only; namely, the war; and that while the people are thus “not looking,” the business man and the politicians have a perfect opportunity to arrange “good things” for themselves. And here I shall present a sample of American business men filching “good things” while the public’s attention is wholly absorbed in war. For shameless, treasonable corruption this sample can not be surpassed with the foulest page in the history of the ancient and rotten pagan Roman Empire.
Washington during the American Civil War was a robber’s roost for eminently respectable thieves, industrial “bunco-steerers,” and prominent and pious “come-on” financial pirates who were never near the firing line. The very best hotels in the city of Washington were constantly crowded with these patriotic citizens, “brainy men,” distinguished business men—from all parts of the North—a continuous thieves’ banquet by men who socially despised the humble fellows at the front. Cunningly during the entire war these gilt-edged, gold-dust bandits, far from danger of the firing line, plotted deals and steals and stuffed their pockets with “good things”—while brave men from the farms, mines and factories bled and died on the battlefield,—while working class wives and mothers agonized in their desolated humble homes. President Lincoln hated and dreaded these “hold-up” men, and sometimes he vented his splendid wrath against them in immortal words of warning to the people.[[143]]
Washington is such a pleasant place in the kindly, smiling springtime. Business men enjoy that town—while Congress is in session.
For many months preceding July, 1862, a certain group of these broadclothed money-gluttons camped in Washington—alert as hawks, keen as hungry tigers sniffing warm blood. This precious group of eminently stealthy Christian business men planned and plotted. Cunningly these pirate patriots arranged a specially “good thing”—of which I wish to tell you here.
There was, you remember, one battle in the late Civil War called the Seven Days’ Battle. Mark the dates very carefully: June 25 to July 1, 1862—seven days—a bloody, horrible week. For several reasons this battle was regarded as most critical; many thoughtful people, North and South, believed the Union would stand or fall with this battle. President Lincoln ordered General McClellan to capture the Confederate capital, Richmond, or hurry north and protect Washington. As the conflict came closer and closer capitalists and statesmen grew busier—timing a master stroke.
June 24, the nation watched Virginia: one of the most prolonged and savage struggles in the whole history of mankind was imminent.
June 24, therefore, was, for certain men, the last day of special preparation. The cannon would surely begin next day to roar around Richmond.
All was ready (in Washington).... The understanding was perfect (in Washington).
“Without a single syllable of debate,” a certain bill (precisely as it had been handsomely amended by the Senate) was passed by the House by a vote of 104 to 21. The finishing touch was thus put upon a carefully constructed trap, a trap set by “leading citizens,” a trap for big game.
Next day—June 25—the cannon did begin to boom around the Confederate capital.
The first day’s struggle—June 25—was awful. The news flashed through the land. Millions turned pale.
But the bandits in Washington were cool. The trap was set. They waited.
The second day was a slaughter.
More smiles and confidence in the best Washington hotels.
The third day of the battle was a butchering contest. The whole people watched, listened. The news flamed north and south. Millions, terrified, read the dead roll.
But the broadcloth gentlemen wept not. They waited—patriotically.
The fourth day was a storm of blood and iron.
But the eminent business men, bankers, statesmen, promoters and other patriotic looters, safe in Washington—far from the firing line—waited, drank fine wine and very confidently waited—waited as lions wait—to spring to the throats of their victims.
Mr. Lincoln held back his signature from that “certain Bill.” He was doing his best for the boys in the trenches, and was justly suspicious of the promoter-banker patriotism in Washington.
The fifth day millions looked toward Virginia—and were sickened with grief.
But certain prominent gentlemen in Washington cheerfully jested, ate the best food on earth, lolled in easy chairs, gracefully reclined on elegantly upholstered sofas, craftily plotted—and waited, in calm confidence waited.
The sixth day of the battle was “Death’s feast.” The nation, North and South, was stupefied with the horror of the war.
But certain “highly respected leading citizens,” Christian business men—flag-waving patriots all of them—quaffed their wine, chatted gaily, plotted, and, like reptiles, coiled to strike—waited, confident.
The seventh day, the last day, the baptism of blood and fire broke the nation’s heart. As morning dawned the nation’s one thought was: The war—the awful battles—the week-long harvest of death in Virginia. Millions sobbed and eagerly sought more news. The storm of death completely absorbed the nation’s attention. The Seven Days of slaughter was the nation’s one heart-gripping thought.
For this day certain patriots, certain “men of energy and push and enterprise,” certain distinguished business men, had patiently and craftily waited. The psychological moment! The nation was blinded with rage, tears and despair. Half insane with an awful joy and a sickening sorrow, the people, millions of them, wildly screamed, sobbed and cursed—on July 1.
Intense day.
The Union army in retreat—defeated.
The President in profound alarm, half crazed with the agony of it all, decided, July 1, to call for 300,000 more soldiers for three years’ service.
Supreme moment—for the business man.
Now!
The people are not looking.
Now!
Strike, viper, strike!
Leap, gold-hungry patriot! Leap! Leap now—leap for your country’s throat!
Not another hour’s delay.... Place the final pressure on the President.
“Mr. President! Mr. Lincoln! Sign our bill! Please sign our bill now—right now. Quickly, Mr. President! Don’t delay longer. Now!”
Hundreds of cannon were roaring in Virginia. The President was devouring the telegraphic news from the firing line.
Business men—Christian business men—including flag-loving Congressmen, very noble Senators, and many other dollar-mark statesmen, were directly and indirectly urging that the bill be signed—at once, “for the country’s welfare,” of course.
The President, urged by these money-hungry patriots, urged by these “men of high standing,” thus urged, the President, writhing with grief over the Seven Days’ slaughter of his brave volunteers, almost sweating blood in his profound fear,—signed the bill, July 1.
What bill?
The bill that legalized a vast and shameless wrong against the wives and children of brave men on the firing line; the bill that legalized a rape of the National Domain and the Federal Treasury by gilded cowards, while from the Atlantic Ocean to the Rocky Mountains, hundreds of thousands of brave men, ill fed, ill clothed, faced hell under the flag on the firing line; the bill that suddenly made plutocrats of Christian statesmen,—made millionaires of flag-waving traitors piously masquerading as patriots; the bill that created the Union Pacific Railway charter, the astounding terms of which are given presently.
The President was numb and dumb with sadness and a thousand worries.
“The news [of the Seven Days’ Battle],” says Rhodes,[[144]] “was a terrible blow to the President. The finely equipped army which had cost so much exertion and money, had gone forward with high hopes of conquest, and apparently bore the fate of the Union, had been defeated, and was now in danger of destruction or surrender. This calamity the head of the Nation must face.... The elaborate preparations of the North had come to naught.... Lincoln grew thin and haggard and his dispatches ... of these days are an avowal of defeat.”
But the business men and the statesmen who were “in on the deal” winked wisely, smiled blandly, and made merry as they quaffed their champagne. They had “turned the trick”—they had made a fine bargain.
“Business is business.”
July 2 came. Certain statesmen and business men in Washington were happy, so very, very happy—far from the firing line.
July 2 came. And while a cloud of buzzards circled confidently over the Seven Days’ battlefield eager for a feast on the rotting flesh of the brave working class soldier boys; while the torn corpses of humble working class men were hurriedly pitched into the ditches and the dirt and gravel were shoveled upon them; while the grave-worms began their feast and revel in the flesh and blood of the men and boys from the farms, mines and factories; while, July 2, the wounded men and boys screamed under the surgeons’ knives and saws in the hospitals; while, July 2, millions mourned;—at such a time, while the Union army was retreating, defeated—the “big, brainy business men” in Washington celebrated their victory, the securing of the Union Pacific Railway charter. For months these distinguished patriotic sneaks had been preparing, hatching this “good thing,” the Union Pacific charter. After months of patriotic treason and fox-like watchfulness they had “landed” their prize.
They won.
They celebrated.
A nation in tears is the business man’s opportunity—for bargains.
This Union Pacific charter was, as shown below, unquestionably one of the most shameless pieces of corruption in the entire history of the civilized, unsocialized world, including even pagan Rome in her most degraded days. The crime was so foul and vast that many of the records were burned later—which, perhaps, saved some eminent gentlemen from being lynched.
Mr. Henry Clews relates:[[145]]
“The investigation of the refunding committee of the Pacific railroads at Washington brought the most remarkable evidence from one of the principal witnesses, who stated that the books connected with the construction of the road had been burned or destroyed as useless trash involving the superfluous expense of room rent, though they contained the record of transactions involving hundreds of millions of dollars, a record which became absolutely necessary to the fair settlement between the government and its debtors. Also the fact was put in evidence that a certain party in the interest had testified before another committee, on a former occasion, that he was present when $54,000,000 of profits were divided equally among four partners, himself and three others. None of the books of record containing this valuable information escaped the flames.”
The charter as originally granted, July 1, 1862, was treasonably generous; but these far-from-the-firing-line patriots were insatiably gluttonous, and they teased and bribed till exactly two years later (July 2, 1864, precisely at a time when the war was terribly intense and especially critical), the liberality of the terms of the charter was almost doubled.
Study the terms—the chief features—of the charter as granted and amended.
Remember the date, June 24 to July 1, 1862,—the week of the Seven Days’ Battle. Also look sharply for the patriotism—in the charter.
The terms, in outline, of the Union Pacific charter:
First: At a time when the nation was straining every nerve to carry on the war, at a time when the soldiers in the trenches were paid only 43 cents a day, and even that in depreciated paper money, and were given salt pork and mouldy crackers for rations—at such a time, business men (cunningly assisted by patriotic Congressmen and noble Senators) dipped their greedy hands into the National Treasury and took out a government “loan” to the railway company of $60,000,000 in interest-bearing government bonds worth more than sufficient to build the road. Professor W. Z. Ripley (Harvard University) says:[[146]]
“From the books of the Union Pacific and the Credit Mobilier it appears that the expenditures by the Union Pacific directly amounted to $9,746,683.33; and that the actual expenditures under the Hoxie, Ames and Davis contracts were $50,720,957.94, making the total cost of the road $60,467,641.27.”
This good-as-cash loan from the government was “assistance” and “incentive” given to the genteel promoters of the Union Pacific Railway: $16,000 per mile from the Missouri River to the Rocky Mountains; $48,000 per mile through the Rocky Mountains; and $32,000 per mile beyond the Rockies. This was a liberal allowance, surely. Collis P. Huntington, long time president of the Southern Pacific, claimed afterward that the road could be built at an average cost of less than $10,000 per mile. More recently the Union Pacific Railway Company (contending with the State of Utah over tax burdens) proved before the Board of Equalization at Salt Lake City, by the sworn testimony of engineers, that the average cost of the Utah Central line, in a rough country, was only $7,298.20 per mile.
The dear capitalist government was rich enough to stuff the pockets of the glistening, flag-waving traitors with $60,000,000 in bonds like gold as “assistance” and “incentive” for self-preservation patriotism. But at the same time this dear government could give the “boys in blue” only 43 cents a day in cheap rag money as “incentive.” These “enterprising business men” drank champagne and slept in soft beds; but the “boys in blue” drank water from muddy horse-tracks and slept on the ground.
Second: The Union Pacific Company, it was cunningly arranged, might make elsewhere a private, cash, mortgage-bonded loan equal to the government loan, $60,000,000.
Third: The noble Christian statesmen in Congress and the noble Christian business men (patriots all) cunningly agreed that a first mortgage should be given for the private loan of $60,000,000.
Fourth: The government (bunco-steerers inside and outside of Congress) cunningly agreed to take a second mortgage on the road for the government loan of $60,000,000.
Fifth: It was cunningly arranged by these business men in politics and these politicians in business that ninety-five per cent. of the government second mortgage loan should not bear interest till thirty years later; but that all the private loans should bear interest at once.
Sixth: The Railway Company was cunningly given permission to sell $100,000,000 in railway stocks.
Stocks were sold to Congressmen and very noble Senators.
Stocks were sold to these very noble statesmen below the market price.
Stocks sold to statesmen—it was cunningly arranged—need not be paid for till after the road was finished and the stocks were paying dividends. For example, Congressman W. B. Allison, afterward Senator Allison, of Iowa (so sly and stealthy that he became known as “Pussy-Foot”), bought some of the stocks “on the quiet,” too, from the infamous Ames; he paid out nothing for the stocks, but when he had owned the stocks for only a brief time and while the unfinished road was yet in comparatively poor condition, his dividends more than paid for his stocks.[[147]] The Union Pacific scandal snuffed out numerous lesser lights and sadly bedimmed the lustre of twenty-two other “great” names, such as Blaine, Logan, Garfield, Colfax.[[148]]
This villainy of the nation’s “great” men is worthy of Emerson’s interesting flattery of eminent prostitutes:
“When I read the list of men of intellect, of refined pursuits, giants in law, or eminent scholars, or of social distinction, men of wealth and enterprise in the commercial community, and see what they have voted for and what they have suffered to be voted for, I think no community was ever so politely and elegantly betrayed.”—(“Lecture on Woman.”)
One Congressman was given $500,000 for his assistance in getting the charter granted.
“Another [expense],” says Professor Ripley (Harvard University),[[149]] “of a worse sort concerned a government commissioner, Cornelius Wendell, appointed to examine the road and report whether or not it met the requirements of the law, who flatly demanded $25,000 before he would proceed to perform his duty ... his demand was paid in the same spirit in which it was made—as so much blood money.”
Another authority thus:[[150]]
“Oakes Ames, member of Congress, from Massachusetts, and a promoter of the Union Pacific and its bills before the national legislature, distributed Credit Mobilier stock to influential Congressmen on the understanding that it should be paid for out of the dividends, which dividends depended largely on the passage of the bills giving grants of land and money to the U. P. The bills were passed. The dividends of the very first year paid for the stock and left a balance to the credit of the donees; and the total construction profits were $43,925,328 above all expenses, in which profits the stock-holding Congressmen who passed the railroad grants had an important share.”
Seventh: The statesmen-business men cunningly agreed that when the government used the road (which it had furnished more than sufficient means to construct) one-half the regular rate should be paid in cash and the other half should apply as credit on the government loan.
Eighth: The Union Pacific Railway Company, including the Central Pacific (same system),[[151]] was cunningly presented—scot free—one-half of all the land within twenty miles of the right-of-way, and “all the timber, iron and coal within six miles” of the right-of-way,—a total of 25,000,000 acres of land. “At $2.50 per acre,” says President E. B. Andrews (University of Nebraska),[[152]] “the land values alone would more than build the road.” The Northern Pacific Company received, just two years later, 47,000,000 acres of land as a gift which a land expert[[153]] estimated to be worth probably $990,000,000 and possibly $1,320,000,000,—which gives us some idea of the value of the 25,000,000 acre gift to the Union Pacific.
It is worth the space to add: That “the promoters of the Northern Pacific, through unfair construction contracts and other frauds, made the capitalization of 600 miles of that line constructed down to 1874 amount to 143 millions on an actual expenditure of twenty-two millions.”[[154]]
Ninth: Again and again the Union Pacific, when it suited its purpose to do so, refused to comply with the treasonably easy terms of its charter; but always the patriots in Washington and the distinguished railway gentlemen cunningly “got together,” made some “gentlemen’s agreement”—and the charter was not revoked.
As suggested above, this charter, as amended by the Senate and in the form signed by the President, July 1, 1862,—was, when it was finally “considered” in the House of Mis-Representatives, voted 104 to 21 “without a single syllable of debate.”[[155]]
Professor Parsons sums up the case thus:[[156]]
“The promoters got from Congress more than the cost of the road, bonded it again to private investors for all it was worth, issued stock also beyond the cost of construction, sold and gave away a good deal of it, and still had the road and the control of its earnings for themselves.”
The magnitude of this statesmen-patriot-thieves’ masterpiece (“for love of country and home and God”) can not be realized without a further word concerning the land grants.
Seventy-nine land-grant railroads (twenty-one of them “direct beneficiaries of Congress”) have been granted 200,000,000 acres of land (reduced by forfeiture to 158,286,627 acres).
“Over one-half of this acreage was granted by acts passed between 1862 and 1864.”[[157]]
That is to say, during twenty-four terrible months, just while the nation was sweating blood from every pore, while the people were not looking at anything except the war, precisely at that time, patriotic statesmen gave away to railway promoters who shed no “blood for the flag,” gave to these “gentlemen of push and enterprise” a sufficient amount of the people’s lands to provide a hundred and twenty-five-acre farm for every one of the 800,000 men mustered out of the Union armies in 1865.
Professor Parsons says “the total national land-grants alone have aggregated 215,000,000 acres”—(15,000,000 acres higher than the estimate by Professors Cleveland and Powell).
“It could be said of more than one railroad company as was said by an English capitalist who inspected ... the properties of the Illinois Central, ‘This is not a railway company; it is a land company.’”[[158]]
It is interesting (and instructive) to note that the charter of the Northern Pacific Railway with its 47,000,000 acre land gift, with astoundingly liberal amendments to the U. P. charter, was granted July 2, 1864, precisely at a time when the nation’s attention was again riveted to two specially terrible campaigns which absorbed the nation wholly in the war: Grant and Lee, with immense armies, were fighting bitterly, and Sherman with 98,000 men and Johnston with 45,000 men had been fighting fiercely and almost continuously from June 10 to July 2, 1864. As stated above, the Northern Pacific got 47,000,000 acres of land.[[159]]
The three railways, says Professor Parsons in substance,[[160]] the Union Pacific, the Central Pacific and the Northern Pacific, cost somewhat less than $132,000,000, and were capitalized at more than $383,000,000—that is to say, about $250,000,000 (two-thirds of the capitalization) was fictitious,—a fraud, a lie, commercial patriotism.
While at wining and dining tables in closely guarded private parlors in the best hotels in Washington this unmatchable plundering was cunningly arranged (“to develop the country, of course”) working class men and boys, half starved and weary, were obediently slaughtering themselves at the word of command—for 43 cents a day, in depreciated paper money forced upon them by pirate patriots.
While the nation is blinded with tears and the common men’s blood gushes from their torn veins, the “business” man, with pious patriotism talking grandly of the “glorious flag,” cunningly sneaks to the nation’s store-house, a blushless burglar; he climbs aboard the ship of state, a conscienceless pirate.[[161]]