Chapter 43
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 043
Chapter Title: Great Matters of Human Ethics (3)
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Slavery has been with humanity since prehistoric times.
Win, and you're the slave master; lose, and you're the slave. Simple, right? I could stand there with my hands behind my back, cracking the whip, while slaves handled all the hard labor—a wonderful life.
But slavery had a fatal flaw.
Slaves were useless for anything beyond simple manual labor, had zero work ethic, required free citizens to oversee them, and still rebelled occasionally, forcing the army to step in.
Honestly, though, all those downsides paled in comparison to the biggest problem.
Slavery was simply immoral.
- Wow, what a shocking revelation. It's like I just learned 1+1=2; let me share that wisdom.
If slavery weren't an immoral, unethical system, it would just be another inefficient one. People have a strong tendency to stick with the status quo, so once a system becomes customary, it's incredibly hard to change. Take the yard-pound system—everyone knows it's inefficient, but they still use it.
Countless people burned their bodies and souls to abolish slavery. Those who firmly believed such a horrific institution shouldn't exist fought tirelessly for its end, overcoming all the obstructions from those profiting off it until slavery was finally abolished.
Why bring this up now?
Because the place I'm in—the United States—is, despite being a full-fledged Western civilized nation among many in the world, still a godforsaken hellhole clinging to slavery.
Crazy bastards. They say they must protect the freedom to own slaves. To defend that "freedom," they'll even fight a civil war later. Baby Jesus himself would tell them to pick freely between the whip or the gallows if he heard that nonsense.
New York, where I'm staying, has of course abolished slavery. Like I'd ever go to those filthy Southern states.
Look at this.
Proof right in front of me of how utterly useless slavery is throughout history.
"Take a look at this!! Isn't it amazing?"
"A paper already?"
"Not quite—it's a summary of the experimental data! It's still dangerous, but combining nitroglycerin with diatomaceous earth greatly reduces the explosion risk. We're still fine-tuning the ratios, but—"
Who was it that said, "Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime"?
Alfred Nobel, now knowing how to "fish," had dark circles black as night under his eyes but showed no sign of sleeping anytime soon.
"Why not rest a bit?"
"I can't sleep."
"Still—"
"Human progress is right around the corner. Lying in bed staring at the ceiling, I feel certain that countless people will benefit from this technology. I toss and turn for a while, then find myself back at my desk. How could I sleep now?"
If he puts it that way, I feel like total trash for just grabbing business ideas to make money.
They say Nobel was tormented when he saw dynamite used in war and established the Nobel Prize because of it. With that mindset, yeah, his conscience must have rotted black inside.
America in person... was less impressive than the heart of the 21st-century world I remembered.
But New York? This place is insane.
Vitality bordering on madness.
Immigrants pouring in from around the world, drawn solely by the Statue of Liberty.
Countless people racing west with frontier spirit, dreaming of turning their lives around.
America's era is coming.
I don't know if it's because I know the future, but even in this mundane street scene, I could feel it.
For someone like me, who doesn't want his soul ejected to some unknown place and must change history to avoid it, the flashiest way is to prevent the Pax Americana.
Intervene in the Civil War and help the South win independence—it would twist history massively... but seeing the North's incredible prosperity, I'm convinced those Southern cotton-field hicks can't win.
Modern wars boil down to industrial capacity and population. The South is short on both, most of its population are slaves, its industry is far inferior, and its cause is idiotic to boot.
Their victory would be as much a plague on human history as Hitler conquering Europe.
So I gave up on any plan to neatly bisect America and resolved to focus on my current tasks instead.
To make that happen, I'd have needed to possess Palmerston or Queen Victoria at minimum.
Too bad.
By the time I reached America via England...
The Americans had finally bullied Japan into opening its ports.
"Get your newspapers here! Newspapers!!"
"The U.S. fleet has forced Japan to open!!"
"A great victory in the Far East! See it now in the papers!"
Perfect timing.
My stock soared just from lying in my hotel room.
And back then, newspapers could be bought off with a bit of cash.
[Latest: Arthur Leigh, the young British diplomat and businessman who authored Fair Trade and opened Joseon, currently staying at New York's Astor House]
Just eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner here with a cup of tea draws people in.
"Excuse me. Are you Arthur Leigh, by any chance?"
"That's me."
"Ah! I've read your writings with profound admiration. As for me—"
And so on.
Start with acquaintances, they introduce new people, cross a few bridges like that, and soon politicians and businessmen start approaching through connections.
In the process, I heard some intriguing stories.
"With Japan opening, whaling should get a fresh boost."
"U.S. whaling is that big?"
"Indeed. Even just this eastern region prospered from it. Demand for whale oil is dropping due to kerosene, but it's still strong—for factories and such—"
One reason America forced Japan open: whaling.
U.S. whalers roamed the globe, especially the Pacific ones that sailed for 2-4 years at a time. Ships frequently wrecked in the treacherous North Pacific, washed ashore in Japan for rescue. So the idea of "plant a stake in Japan for convenience!" was perfectly natural for these Yankees.
Next: Pacific trade.
Americans, rooted in Britain after all, were mad for tea leaves. Naturally, buying tea, silk, and porcelain in China turned a profit.
But America had little to sell China. If there were big sellers, Britain—the world's freest nation—would've scooped them up long ago.
Yankees sold furs and ginseng, making decent money, but furs were popular in Europe too—no need to go to China.
So these guys peddled opium.
"Opium prices aren't what they used to be these days."
"Heh, figures."
The info Americans cozied up to me for was predictable.
"What's hot in China?"
"You basically monopolize Joseon trade—any of our products we could sell there?"
"World-renowned Far East expert— what should we sell in Japan to make bank?"
If I knew, I'd have done it myself. Why create competitors?
Other pitches like "Need more ships to grow? Ours are better than Britain's—wanna buy?" I filed away nicely. Ships were indeed needed.
"American clippers are the world's best. Britain’s rushing to build theirs, but they can't catch our shipyards' know-how."
"I focus more on intra-Far East trade than UK-Far East runs, so I crave freighters for bulk over speedy clippers."
"I see? But few cargoes beat tea leaves for profit."
"Haha, the pie's too big for me."
"Then opium, obviously. Grow it in Joseon, ship same-day from source?"
"Hahaha..."
Clippers are great. But steamships will soon eclipse them.
These speed demons called "clippers" carried less cargo by design, so profitable goods were fixed: high-value items light by volume that spoiled quickly.
Tea leaves? Amateur hour—too straightforward, cutthroat competition.
Americans had long cashed in on the perfect match: opium. Latest trend? Even more opium. 19th century's so damn jarring.
No idea when, but once the Suez Canal opens, sailing ships end much quicker.
Sailors would have to drag them through; steamers zip via coal in the funnel. Clippers might round the Cape, but no contest vs. Suez.
Build steamers ahead, sell post-Suez, buy old sails dirt cheap, redeploy to Eastern trade... sounds profitable, but needs massive capital.
Everything comes down to money. Opportunities abound, but no cash to seize them.
So I hustled for low-capital business ideas.
"Weapons demand will boom. Handle any?"
"Weapons! You've come to the right place for American guns."
"Try Mr. Colt's new revolver?"
"How about this? Convince the Joseon government, and I'll pay handsomely."
"Do Joseon folks know about railroads? Our rail companies are drooling—"
Selling concessions without spending my own money? Goldmine... but pity. I'd rather invest my cash and reap it myself.
I needed backers.
Not Gladstone—solid patrons investing massive sums solely in me.
A little under a month passed.
Here, I made many American friends, swapped views on diverse businesses, learned how U.S. politics ticks. Yankees eyeing Far East trade will contact this Arthur Leigh by letter or telegraph.
Got all I came for.
Now join Nobel and head back to Britain—done.
Instead of holing up in the hotel, my stage shifted to balls and such—real social scenes, fruits of diligent networking.
But no marriage prospects.
"Why haven't you married yet, Arthur?"
"Haha. Come to Joseon with me?"
"Ah... yeah, tough find."
Most balked at unknown Joseon; the eager ones were scarily fervent believers. Religious types? Not for me.
So at these gatherings, I naturally joined corner tables of men talking business.
And there, sensible, refined Americans made sweet offers.
"Pump the stock?"
"Exactly. Hint that your company’s signing an exclusive with the Joseon kingdom—"
"Which won't happen?"
"Of course."
"Just drop it casually."
"And I head back to Britain?"
"Perfect."
Ah! Stock manipulation! Delicious!
I'm just lending my name... nah, not even.
Avoid direct denial when asked, get showered in cute dollars. Exactly the free lunch I'd hunted for.
"Shall we move somewhere for a serious chat?"
"Sounds good. Let's go."
"Right behind you!"
Alcohol buzz rising, money buzz rising. Perfect.
I'd just ducked into the restroom and was heading out when—
"Excuse me."
"Yes, miss? How can I help?"
Quick scan.
Young—almost girl-like. A year or two younger than me. Fancy dress. Rich family vibe.
No booze scent, but faint tobacco. Stubborn-looking face, awkward here—either not into society or first-timer.
Scan result.
Fan of my literary fame and adventurer rep.
Classic: sheltered miss thrilled by adventure tales. Hmm. More curious about her dad, probably.
"I overheard your talk earlier."
"Ah, no worries. Just guys' drunken banter."
Overhearing shady crime plot and intervening? "Don't do bad things!" type?
"No, not that."
"Mm?"
"You're in on a public works graft right now."
"Care to elaborate?"
The buzz vanished instantly.