“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]