The Rebel Leader and the Extremist
The feeling is truly bizarre.
Being subjected to such intense gazes from two middle-aged men—intense enough to bore holes into my face—is awkward in more ways than one.
It’s even more complicated knowing that these two are currently the most prominent political heavyweights in the South.
The 19th century really is an era of romance.
You can just walk down the street and run into rebel leaders, the worst presidents in history, and core members of extremist groups one after another, can't you?
Well, first things first: information gathering.
I bowed my head, projecting an atmosphere as polite and favorable as when I met Lincoln and Buchanan.
“It is an honor to meet the heroes of the South.”
“Indeed, the pleasure is mine. I was worried I might leave without meeting you since I hadn't seen you around. I have to head straight to West Point, so my stay in Mississippi is quite short. Even though my term is ending soon, I must fulfill my duties as Secretary until the very end.”
Jefferson Davis was the current Secretary of War under the Franklin Pierce administration, and after his term ended next year, he was slated to return as a Senator from Mississippi.
Having become a Senator in his 30s and serving as Secretary of War before even hitting 50, one could say he was walking the path of a political elite quite steadily.
I suppose you need that kind of resume to become a rebel leader, don't you?
In truth, ordinary rebel leaders usually don't fare well after a war ends, but as far as I knew, Jefferson Davis would receive a pardon and live comfortably until his death.
I had definitely seen records stating that he even had a grand funeral.
I suspect it was out of fear that punishing Davis might turn him into a martyr to be worshipped.
However, the fact that he was a rebel leader remained unchanged, and while Davis himself might have been fine, those around him didn't fare quite as well.
He was a man I should avoid getting entangled with even more than Buchanan, the worst president in history.
“The Secretary of War is a very busy man. But since you are visiting your alma mater, shouldn't it be enjoyable?”
Then what about John Quitman, who kept adding his two cents from the side?
This man was someone who seriously argued that the South should declare independence right now, conquer Mexico, Cuba, and the entire Caribbean, and build a vast colonial empire.
Hmm, not even worth mentioning, right?
Conclusion: Both of these men were a hopeless duo who would be of no help to my life.
The problem was that this hopeless duo kept trying to win me over.
“Young man, I believe that a prodigy with higher education like yourself must have pondered deeply about the future of our South.”
“I heard you met with Buchanan in New York? Rumor has it that Buchanan is quite fond of you.”
“Pardon? Of me?”
Was the effect of the $10,000 too great? If I had known, I would have just given half.
“If our South is not to be devoured by those jackal-like Northerners, we need more capable young men to emerge. That is why I wanted to know your thoughts.”
“That is no different for me, young man. You aren't a weak-willed unionist like Davis, are you?”
“Weak-willed, Quitman? Haven't I told you several times? The strength of the United States comes from this union, united as one. Don't you realize that if we split in half, our South will inevitably decline?”
“That is why I am saying we shouldn't waste time and should attack Mexico right now. If we make all the islands of the Caribbean our colonies following Mexico, there is no need to feel the absence of the North.”
The two, who had been debating while leaving me aside, turned their gazes back to me.
They were exerting pressure as if to ask whose words I agreed with, which made me want to let out a hollow laugh.
As someone who knows the answer key, I want to tell them both that they are wrong, but what can I do?
Here, my tongue, which even melted the hearts of 21st-century corporate department heads, has no choice but to perform a flashy dance.
“I believe the South should remain in the Union.”
“See? Why don't they know a fact that even young men like this know?”
Davis wore the smile of a victor, and Quitman frowned deeply, but I continued without caring.
“This is for a strictly realistic reason. If the South leaves the North, the North will stop it, even with military force. Then, can the South defeat the North? The population difference is overwhelming, and the naval power cannot even be compared.”
“That is why we must quickly complete our colonial empire in the South.”
“If you intended to do that, I believe you should have taken actual action at least 10 years ago. However, I do not think Congressman Quitman's argument is in vain.”
“Oh? Is that so?”
“Yes. Because there are people like you, Congressman Quitman, who raise their voices, the North must feel fear that our South might really leave if pushed. And, in fact... if there is no other way but to leave, we have no choice but to leave.”
The two fell silent for a moment.
They must have had much to think about, realizing that even a greenhorn like me, who had just turned twenty, was seriously feeling the threat of division.
“As expected of the successor to the Seth family, you are sensitive to political trends. Then, do you realistically think the day will come when the North and South split?”
“If the South could give up slavery, wouldn't it be possible not to split?”
“Ha! Don't make me laugh.”
Quitman snorted as if it were ridiculous.
“You are raising slaves yourself, so you know, right? They are merely in the shape of humans and are an infinitely inferior race. It is the mission of us white people to rule and lead such inferior black people. Those Northerners are a disgrace to the white race who have abandoned this mission!”
Argh, I don't know these people, everyone.
Is this the average for the "Fire-Eaters"?
The spirit of a weak 21st-century person cannot handle this.
Even Davis, who was arguing with Quitman, did not actively refute this statement.
Even if he was a unionist, it must be because he agreed with the fact that slavery was a legitimate system, even if it was for practical reasons.
That is why I was convinced once again.
The Civil War was not a result that happened by chance, but a destiny that had to happen.
“Quitman's opinion is a bit extreme and there are parts where I think differently, but we respect each other as true patriots. So, why don't you join us and do bigger things for the South, beyond Mississippi?”
“I apologize. As I told candidate Buchanan, if a young guy like me sets up shop to do politics, I will be the perfect target for the North to tear apart. That is why I want to support patriots like you while doing the work I do well.”
“The work you do well?”
“I have to squeeze the slaves to get more cotton. Because our South's strength and diplomatic power come from this cotton.”
“Hahahaha! That is also true.”
One of the factors that allowed the South to rebel against the North was the illusion that the whole world was dependent on their cotton.
They thought that if war broke out and cotton exports were blocked, European powers, including England, would actively intervene.
But it's not a high-precision semiconductor; how could cotton be irreplaceable?
Since there were regions like India and Egypt that could replace the South, this ambitious plan of the South would end up in the trash can.
Davis, who didn't dream of such a future, looked at me with a satisfied gaze and patted my shoulder.
“Yes, for now, keep building your substance from behind the scenes. But you are a talent who should do politics. Aim for the political scene seriously in about 10 years. I will push you with all my might.”
“Thank you.”
Davis and Quitman spent the rest of the banquet time badmouthing the Republican Party and the North, and I gave vivid reactions like a reaction bot to the stories of the two department heads.
They are the people who will be responsible for the Mississippi Senate and House of Representatives for the next few years, so it wouldn't be bad to look like a gentle lamb.
“No, Congressman Quitman! You really hit the nail on the head.”
“As expected of Secretary Davis. Even when looking at the same object, the perspective of someone who serves as a minister of a country is different!”
“Hahaha, the young man is quite humble.”
“Isn't it because you, Congressman and Secretary, are working day and night that ordinary people like me can make money comfortably? Now, in that sense, although it is a small amount, here is a donation...”
“Oh, my, this person. Ahem, I didn't come here to receive something like this, but...”
Easy.
By the way, whether it's Lincoln or Buchanan, or Davis or Quitman, they all fall for it so easily.
In my previous life, my department heads would die for me whenever they saw me; perhaps the thing I do best is seducing middle-aged men.
If so, that would be a truly sad thing.
After the banquet ended, I returned to the carriage and groaned, burying my body in the soft seat.
“Ugh... why do those old guys have such great stamina? It’s hard to even keep up with them.”
“Master, if you are tired, shall I massage your shoulders?”
“No, it's fine. Even if it was a bit hard to react, it wasn't without results.”
Being caught by the rebel leader and the head of the extremists was unexpected, but it wasn't without results.
It wasn't just because I left a good impression on those two, but because I personally confirmed that the South's opinion was not firmly unified as one.
They are the same in that they defend slavery, but the policies pursued by the "Fire-Eaters" like Quitman and the moderates like Davis are completely different.
If I utilize this part well, wouldn't I be able to widen my range of movement much more before the war breaks out?
I wonder if it would be good to gently push the frame that even if our thoughts are different, we are all patriots working for the South together.
“Anyway, whether it's here or there, people living are all the same. Even if it seems like they are on the same side, their thoughts are all different, and they keep each other in check behind the scenes... isn't it funny, Leo?”
“Pardon? Ah, no... how... how did you know?”
“Huh? Know what?”
I just muttered it like I was talking to myself, so why is this guy stuttering like he was caught in the act again?
Leo, guessing something again, watched me for a moment and then opened his mouth cautiously.
“Actually... I was debating whether to say this or not, but since you seem to have noticed anyway, I will tell you everything honestly.”
“What is it? Did you touch another female slave?”
“Ah, no! It's not like that! What do you take me for...”
If he didn't cause an accident himself, did he see someone else cause one?
“It's okay, so tell me. If it's something I can solve, I will solve it.”
“Yes. Well... there was originally a subtle distance between the field workers and the house staff.”
“That's natural.”
Even within the same company, production workers and office workers have their organizations split openly, so what would it be like for slaves?
No matter how much they are of the same status, those rolling in the field inevitably have a victim mentality that they are suffering much more.
“Recently, the field workers have been receiving rewards for exceeding their work quotas and punishments have been reduced, so the atmosphere is that it's livable. But as the situation improved, it feels like they have become even more distant from those working inside the mansion.”
“The reason?”
“Since you, Master, grouped the field workers into teams, they became tighter, and I think they are distancing themselves from the house staff, whom they have always thought worked comfortably.”
I was laughing at Davis and Quitman for being at odds while being in the same Southern Democratic Party, but I didn't know the same thing was happening on my farm.
Yeah, people living are all the same.
Whether it's the 21st century or the 19th century, the Democratic Party or a cotton farm, the situation is similar, so a hollow laugh came out naturally.
“I understand for now. That is the house staff's thought, right?”
Just hearing this makes the field slaves sound like narrow-minded people, but I guarantee that if I listen to the field workers' stories, it will be different again.
Because most conflicts usually happen because both sides think they are right.
“Anyway, the core of the problem is that the spaces where you work are so different that the sense of camaraderie is weak, right?”
“...That seems to be the fundamental cause.”
Usually, the best way to integrate two groups that don't get along is to create a common enemy, but I can't use that right now.
“You are aware, right? If you guys have a falling out and work efficiency drops, the profit rate of my farm drops.”
“...I am sorry.”
“If you are sorry, that's enough. You just have to get along well from now on.”
I can just hold the event I was planning to experiment with last time now.
You pathetic beings who divide into sides and feud even in this situation, get a little taste of 21st-century corporate culture.