It was the opposition of the various groups of this class that Vanderbilt expected and provided against. He was fully aware that the moment he revealed his plan of consolidation boards of trade everywhere would rise in their wrath, denounce him, call together mass meetings, insist upon railroad competition and send pretentious, firebreathing delegates to the State Capitol. Let them thunder, said Vanderbilt placidly. While they were exploding in eruptions of talk he would concentrate at Albany a mass of silent arguments in the form of money and get the necessary legislative votes, which was all he cared about. Then ensued one of the many comedies familiar to observers of legislative proceedings. It was amusing to the sophisticated to see delegations indignantly betake themselves to Albany, submit voluminous briefs which legislators never read, and with immense gravity argue away for hours to committees which had already been bought. The era was that of the Tweed regime, when the public funds of New York City and State were being looted on a huge scale by the politicians in power, and far more so by the less vulgar but more crafty business classes who spurred Tweed and his confederates on to fresh schemes of spoliation. Laws were sold at Albany to the highest bidder. "It was impossible," Tweed testified after his downfall, "to do anything there without paying for it; money had to be raised for the passing of bills." [Footnote: Statement of William M. Tweed before Special Investigating Committee of the New York Board of Aldermen. Documents of the Board of Aldermen, 1877, Part II. Document No. 8:15-16.] Decades before this, legislators had been so thoroughly taught by the landowners and bankers how to exchange their votes for cash that now, not only at Albany and Washington, but everywhere in the United States, both legislative and administrative officials haggled in real astute business style for the highest price that they could get.