Third Illustration: The American Civil War—The Bankers and “Promoters”—and the Boys in Blue:
Thousands of Union veterans have declared: “The American Civil War was a rich man’s war and a poor man’s fight. We were duped. But we shall never be duped again.” (See Chapter VII., Sections 14 to 16.)
The volunteer Union soldiers who, at Lincoln’s first call, hurried to enlist for the war, understood distinctly that the government would pay them “in gold or its equivalent.” But the soldiers were forced to accept even their puny 43 cents a day in greenbacks containing the famous “exception clause,” which clause destroyed from 20 to more than 65 per cent. of the purchasing power of the money during the war and for years following the war. But the silk-hatted patriots, the “leading citizen” manufacturers, the bankers and the heroic sharks in Congress at the time, these who issued greenbacks and bought Government bonds, these noble gentlemen not only despised the very money they forced the soldiers to take for fighting, but, at the same time, arranged, virtually, for an iron-clad agreement that not only the principal of, but also the interest on, the Government bonds they “patriotically” bought, must be paid in gold.[[135]] Gold for the patriot in business—“rag money” for the patriots in the trenches. At one time, owing to the “exception clause” on the paper money forced upon the soldiers, one gold dollar would buy as much as two dollars and eighty-five cents of paper money. Of course, the soldiers and the “common people” complained loudly. Says a high authority:[[136]]
“Much opposition was caused by the clause inserted by the Senate, which provided for payment of interest on bonds in coin, which practically meant discrimination in favor of one class of creditors, and, as Stevens said, ‘depreciated at once the money which the bill created.’”
The Wall Street patriots never miss an opportunity to remind us with great show of pride that they “furnished the money with which to carry on the Civil War.” They did furnish a good deal of money, and like true patriotic Shylocks they took blood-sealed, interest-bearing bonds in exchange for their cash. On every possible occasion the bonds were bought at such a sacrifice price as to almost bleed the nation to death in the presence of its enemies. Dr. H. C. Adams (University of Michigan, Department of Finance) says:[[137]] That, “estimated on the average price of gold,” the Federal Government, “for the forty-five months of the Civil War” realized from public obligations of all sorts less than 67 per cent. That is to say, certain bloodless patriots’ lack of faith and their desire also to “push a good thing” and take at least a “full pound of flesh”—resulted in their dear Government’s loss of blood in its financial transactions to the extent of more than 33 per cent.
This disastrous shrinkage was due unquestionably in a very large measure to the bankers’ manipulation of the Government’s financial affairs for their own private benefit. These glittering Shylocks were beautifully, even prayerfully, enthusiastic in their hand-clapping for their dear country’s welfare; and yet they showed almost perfect emotional self-control. Mr. Lincoln hated their gold-lust “patriotism,” but he was compelled to bow low before their power. The lovingly patriotic embrace which our country received from the bond-leech capitalists during the Civil War clearly revealed their amiable intention to bleed their country just as nearly to death as possible—and yet not kill it lest the precious goose should cease to lay such interesting eggs.
Your “patriotic” war-bond buyer is a temperamentally calm person.
Some citizens bleed for their country, others bleed their country.
“Guard against the impostures of patriotism.”—George Washington.[[138]]
Professor J. E. Thorold Rogers[[139]] states as follows the spirit of much of the argument in the British Parliament, even by many conservatives, concerning the bond-leech patriots who purchased British Napoleonic War bonds:
“But we have to endure, in addition to our misfortunes, the sight of the stock-jobbers and fund-holders, who have fattened on our misery, and are now receiving more than half our taxes. And for what? We have put down the Corsican usurper, and restored peace to Europe, legitimacy to its thrones. These people [the bondholders] not only get under our funding system at par, stock, with a number of incidental advantages, in exchange for some £50 or less, but they paid [even] this inadequate quota in notes which were constantly at a discount of 30 per cent. It is intolerable, it is unjust, that we should redeem such stock under the terms of so monstrous and one-sided a bargain.”
Perhaps, reader, you are one of the old gray men who “fought under Grant and are proud of it.” I do not criticize you, gray old man. I am offering you and younger men things to think about. A distinguished historian assures us that there were at one time during the War one hundred and fifty bankers in Congress. Inside and outside of Congress these, and other leading-citizen Mammonites, connived to bleed you and bleed the nation—utterly without shame. They alarmed President Lincoln repeatedly. They never let up in their swinish scramble for gold during the War. And after the War they continued their unholy manoeuvring—patriotically. For example, at one time following the War, after you soldiers had elected your General to the Presidency, these blushless blood-suckers sought to corner the gold market and thus scoop up a barrel of profits. To accomplish this it was necessary to have the President out of the way for a short time in order to render it impossible for him to rush to the rescue with the Federal Treasury. Read their plan to “turn the trick” in the words of a Wall Streeter himself, Mr. Henry Clews:[[140]]
“He [Grant] was prevailed upon to go to a then obscure town in Pennsylvania, named Little Washington. The thing was so arranged that his feelings were worked upon to visit that place for the purpose of seeing an old friend who resided there. The town was cut off from telegraphic communication, and other means of access were not very convenient. There the President was ensconced, to remain for a week or so about the time the Cabal was fully prepared for action.”
Mr. Henry Clews’ own case is so finely typical of the banker-buncombe-patriot that a few lines may profitably be given here to him to illustrate his class.
This glittering patriot, Mr. Clews, was a young man when the Civil War broke out. His young heart—just as a banker’s heart should be, for business purposes—was warm with the holy fervor of a patriot. He loved the flag—tenderly, of course, just as a banker always loves an “attractive proposition.” The war was an opportunity—a splendid opportunity—to “make money” or to “fight for the flag.” After much patriotic (and no doubt prayerful) meditation he reached the conclusion (his first fear was confirmed) that if he went to the war he might unkindly be crowding out some other young fellow who also wanted to “fight for the flag.” So, just as a banker patriot would naturally do, he modestly decided to stay at home and humbly take the opportunity to “make money.” He at once organized a bond-buying, gold-lust syndicate, and as its organizer he went to Washington to buy bonds—at a discount (as he confesses), tho’ believing there was to be only a mere flurry (as he confesses), and especially to examine carefully (as he confesses) into the precise degree of risk assumed in buying the Government’s bonds.
Patriots in the trenches risk all. Patriots in the bond-buying business are not that kind; and they study the risk with great care, and coolly avoid not only the blood risk, but also the money risk—with skill, also with patriotism.
Calmly.
It seems that Mr. Clews went to Washington on a night train. He relates that when he awoke in the morning he raised the car window-shade and cautiously peeped out.[[141]] He saw a long line of cars loaded with cannon. He was astonished—he confesses. Naturally, a banker is afraid of a cannon. “As I went around collecting information,” he says, “the sight of those cannon that at first had made such an indescribable impression upon me continued to haunt my vision wherever I went.... I felt that the contest would be a long and bloody one.... I was convinced that war to the knife was imminent, and that Government bonds must have a serious fall in consequence.” He telegraphed his syndicate to “sell out” and “clear the decks,” “to unload.”[[142]]
Note that as soon as these far-from-the-firing-line patriots sniffed danger for their gold they were, as Mr. Clews virtually confesses, ready to leave the Government in the lurch and let the boys in the trenches starve till the bonds could be bought at a strangle-hold advantage in the way of discounts. Mr. Clews relates, with unmanageable pride, that the Secretary of the Treasury received him with great courtesy and supplied him with a large amount of useful information—information of the “inner” “ground-floor” sort so extremely helpful to the organizer of a bond-buying syndicate; also that the information and suggestions and encouragements he received from the Secretary were really the beginning of what he, with blushingly modest confession and a caress for himself, calls his “brilliant career.”
Early in life Mr. Clews made a profound impression upon himself—a lasting impression, as his books and speeches always reveal; a not uncommon experience with “prominent people.”
Thus Mr. Clews chose the humbler and more healthful rôle in patriotism.
Many of Mr. Clews’ old neighbors (hot-headed young men of the War time) are dead. They have been dead a long time. Cannon balls tore some of them to pieces. Bayonets were thrust through some of them. Some were starved to death in prisons. Their once hot blood is mold now. Long ago their flesh was eaten by the battle-grave worms. Time is busy in their nameless graves gnawing at their bones. But, now fifty years after the terrible war began, Mr. Clews is alive and well—he even boasts of his good health and often gives suggestions on how to keep one’s health till ripe old age.
And he is still buying bonds.
His special delight is giving advice to—mankind.
Mr. Clews lectures frequently. His favorite themes are “patriotism,” “the stars and stripes,” “the man behind the gun,”—and “how to succeed.” He is a sort of chairman of the committee on wind for patriots in the “greenhorn” stage.
All this space is given to Mr. Clews simply because he is so perfectly typical of the shrewd and powerful capitalist class who rule—rule by wind and a pompous manner when possible and by lead and steel when “necessary.”
His case should be explained carefully to the boys and girls of the working class. In the South such men are Democrats; in the North, Republicans. In both regions the working men are neither, if they understand.