The members of the Legislature completely lost their heads. The old classic maxim, “whom the gods devote to destruction, they first make mad,” appeared to apply peculiarly to them, in the manipulation of the Harlem “corner.” Some of them mortgaged their houses and lands to get money to sell Harlem “short.” They advised all their friends that it was such a sure thing that failure was impossible, and brought all of their acquaintances whom they could influence into the speculative maelstrom of Harlem. In the coarse of a few weeks, the members of the Legislature and their friends had sold millions of Harlem to be delivered at various periods during the summer, when they expected it would go ‘way down, probably to 8 or 9, where the Commodore had originally bought it. They expected, moreover, that the Commodore would have appeared at Albany either in person or by his lobby representatives to sue for terms of settlement. They were greatly disappointed. He never left the company of his brokers in Wall Street, and persisted in purchasing. The members thought he must be mad, or at least in his dotage. He was then threescore and ten, the Scriptural limit of human days. The Commodore continued to purchase Harlem until he had bought—paradoxical as it may seem to the general reader—27,000 shares more than were in existence of Harlem stock. When the members of the Legislature who set the trap to catch Vanderbilt, but in which they themselves were now hopelessly ensnared, went into the market to buy for the purpose of covering, there was no Harlem to be had. Vanderbilt and his brokers had every share of it safely secured in their strong boxes. The members of the Legislature were paralyzed. They could expect no mercy from the Commodore. He owed them none, and though a good Christian prior to his death, he was then practically a stranger to the doctrine of the great Nazarene. “Return good for evil,” or, “whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.” He was rather inclined to follow the maxim of that practical Quaker, who, when smitten on the cheek and asked to turn the other, replied, “Friend, thou didst not read far enough. It is written, ‘pay what thou owest,’” and he knocked the fellow down. This was the rule of action to which the Commodore rigidly adhered in dealing with the Legislature in the Harlem “corner.” When a compromise was mooted to him, the Commodore replied, “Put it up to a thousand. This panel game is bring tried too often.” No doubt he would have put it up to a thousand and totally ruined the members of the Legislature, with the Governor and their friends included, only for the overpowering appeals of his two trustworthy friends, Leonard Jerome and John Tobin.