The Day of Reckoning (2)
If one were to pick a country that embodies both the light and shadow of the 19th century, the British Empire would undoubtedly be at the top of the list. It was an objective fact that Britain was capable of such immense, villainous malice that there was a running joke: if something strange happened in modern history, you could bet on Britain being the cause, and you’d likely be right.
Does the sheer madness of starting a war just because they were prevented from selling drugs not explain everything? And it was only a few years ago that they sparked yet another war, using the absurd excuse that their national flag had been insulted during a legitimate law enforcement operation by the Qing Dynasty against pirate ships.
Even the House of Commons had rejected the motion for war, finding it too egregious, but the Prime Minister at the time, Palmerston, went as far as dissolving the House of Commons just to force the war through. Looking at such state-sanctioned actions, they were truly the scum of the earth, yet, unexpectedly, they also exerted a great deal of positive influence on human history.
As the country where the Industrial Revolution began most rapidly, it was Britain that legally restricted the working hours of children, who were being exploited indiscriminately at the time. It was also Britain that passed legislation to place inspectors in factories.
Furthermore, Britain was the first nation to completely ban the slave trade and move toward defining slavery itself as an evil. Of course, critics point out that they were the ones who worked children the hardest in European factories and profited the most from the slave trade, but surely, doing something is better than doing nothing at all.
“Are you… truly planning to go?”
“Of course. Finally, the moment when the barbaric institution of slavery is completely eradicated from our Christian civilization is right before our eyes. We must contribute our strength, however small.”
And such noble endeavors are almost always initiated by a handful of individuals who possess both superhuman sense of duty and conscience.
George Thompson, the legendary abolitionist who played a major role in passing the Slavery Abolition Act in Britain. And his son-in-law, Frederick William Chesson, had founded an organization called the London Emancipation Society to root out slavery in America entirely.
Abolishing slavery in Europe alone did not mean that complete justice had been realized on this earth. They held the firm belief and conviction that the barbaric act of one human stripping another of their dignity and rights and treating them as a slave should not exist.
They had received countless death threats and intimidation, but they had never wavered. They knew well that if they died, they would be revered like martyrs, which would only cause public opinion toward abolition to burn even brighter.
“But according to the reports, the scale of the black uprising in the South is immense. If you go, you might be misunderstood simply because you are a white man.”
“I hear that despite the massive scale of the uprising, almost no white people have actually been killed. If this is true, shouldn’t journalists like us shed more light on this noble struggle? Since the government is publicly stating that this is not a riot, people like us must lend them our support.”
For those who had spent their entire lives fighting for the emancipation of slaves, this American Civil War was an opportunity, and the black uprising in the South was a kind of marvel. It was even shocking that, unlike the French Revolution where the heads of nobles and royals were lopped off one after another, this time they were fighting solely to secure their own rights.
“I will make sure to capture the vivid reality of it. I will make sure everyone in Europe knows that all the work my father-in-law and I have done has returned with such a dazzling reward.”
“…Still, be careful. Even if the black people are favorable to you, the Southern soldiers or the planters will never leave you alone.”
“If I valued my life, my father-in-law wouldn’t have done this work, would he? The same goes for me.”
George Thompson could not stop his son-in-law, who was burning through everything he had to follow his own convictions. If his son-in-law died, his daughter would suddenly become a widow, so as a father, it was right to stop such insane behavior. But how could he?
Those eyes, burning with conviction, were the spitting image of himself, who had shouted that the slave trade and slavery must be abolished immediately in the past, never kneeling despite countless threats and appeasements.
“Everything others ridiculed as a waste of time will soon bear fruit.”
“Not everything. The goal of our Emancipation Society is no longer just the liberation of black people.”
While the London Emancipation Society placed significance on freeing the oppressed black people, their goal was no longer just the abolition of slavery. It was their conviction that the indigenous people of the New World, who were being driven into a corner by the terrible atrocities of Europeans, were also subjects they had to protect.
“If it weren’t for us, the indigenous people and the black people would have lived peacefully, enjoying their own civilizations until now. Europe must take responsibility. If we do not, this karma will surely return to us someday.”
“…That would be so. God would not be able to turn a blind eye to these cruel acts forever.”
Going to a land where a war is raging, especially to a region where a large-scale uprising has occurred, is effectively the same as going with the resolve to lose one’s life. Some might not understand why someone would do such a dangerous thing, but it is because of people like this that the world changes in a positive direction, little by little.
Frederick Chesson boarded a ship bound for Boston to secretly infiltrate the South. He would vividly convey everything happening in the South to Europe. He had no fear. He had already left his life behind in London.
The process of crossing from the North to the South was unexpectedly not that difficult. If it were a situation of fierce back-and-forth fighting, it would be different, but the South was already being smashed in real-time, so there was no situation to worry about border control or anything else.
When he slipped some money to the Northern soldiers, they even told him a route to safely enter the South. Perhaps, from the North’s perspective, there was no reason to stop a journalist who intended to highlight the slave uprising and report it to Europe.
“It will be dangerous… wouldn’t it be better to just investigate roughly near the border and return?”
“If I do that, I won’t be able to properly capture the image of this struggle. I’ve already decided where to go.”
The place where slaves were treated most harshly was undoubtedly the cotton plantations, and if one spoke of cotton plantations, wasn’t Natchez in Mississippi the representative region?
While heading to Mississippi, Chesson precisely sketched and described in writing everything he saw.
[The South might call it a rebellion, but what I saw was different. When I heard the words 'a million rebels,' I imagined an army covering the earth endlessly. But the scene I actually saw while coming down to Natchez was not a rebellion destroying a nation, but a struggle fighting to reclaim their rightful rights.
In fact, a number reaching one million can never be filled by adult males alone. In reality, among those who rose up, there were not only middle-aged people but also the elderly, even women, and boys who had not yet shed their youthful looks. They were not holding weapons and shooting white people, but opening warehouse doors to take food, transporting supplies, and caring for the wounded.
In that men, women, and children of all ages participated, this is not a war, but rather closer to a noble revolution. I saw the aspirations of the oppressed, and I saw those aspirations become flames and soar high into the sky.
Those who encounter this war might dismiss it as a fight of barbarians happening across the Atlantic. But is that really so? Where did the million black people who rose up there and the 4.2 million black people living spread across the entire South come from? The black people were residents of Africa who had nothing to do with the American continent. Who were the ones who forcibly captured their ancestors and sold them as slaves to the New World? It was our ancestors. Europe is by no means unrelated to this situation, so even if we cannot take responsibility, we must never turn our eyes away from reality. We are…]
“Hey, stop!”
In an instant, Chesson’s hand, which had been moving the pen excitedly, stopped dead. As he slowly turned his head, black soldiers holding rifles were encircling him, drawing a semicircle.
‘Damn, caught.’
It was a job he had come to do by risking his life from the start, and since he had been caught by black people, not white people, couldn’t one say it wasn’t exactly a big deal?
“You, what kind of person are you?”
One of the soldiers asked with eyes full of vigilance. Chesson answered, slowly raising his hands to show he had no intention of resisting.
“I am a journalist. I came from London, and I came to record your struggle and inform all of Europe.”
“London? From England?”
“That is correct. I am on your side.”
“I don’t believe it… then prove it.”
“Here, these are the things I have recorded so far.”
It was actually what he had hoped for. Chesson carefully took out a thick notebook and sketched drawings from his bag. Detailed drawings, densely packed writing, and above all, content asserting this struggle as a holy war.
“This is… content defending us, isn’t it?”
“Of course. I am a person who has fought for the abolition of slavery my whole life. Will you believe me now?”
Fortunately, the expressions of the soldiers softened little by little.
“Wait a moment. This is not a problem for us to judge.”
One soldier hurried off somewhere, and Chesson sighed in relief while waiting leisurely.
‘The leader will come soon now. I’ll be able to talk to them.’
As the situation turned out like this, he even felt a sense of anticipation. To think he could meet the leaders who were leading the uprising in person. Wasn’t this an invaluable coverage opportunity?
‘No, wait. But how did those black people read my coverage content? Can the black people in the South read?’
Before he could even resolve the question that had just popped up, footsteps were heard from far away. Chesson, excited at the thought of interviewing the leader of this heroic uprising, lifted his head.
And froze in place.
“Master, this person…”
The person the black soldier had brought was not a black person, but a white person. Furthermore…
‘Master? Master?’
No wonder their armed state was so good.
‘Damn it. It wasn’t a rebel army?’
His head spun rapidly. A white man commanding armed black soldiers in Natchez? As far as he knew, there was only one person who fit this condition.
James Seuret.
The most notorious slave owner in the South. He had voluntarily handed over all the records he had gathered so far to such a person.
‘God is heartless.’
Sure enough, Seuret’s expression, as he examined Chesson’s coverage records received from the black people, changed gradually. At first, it was indifferent, then his brow narrowed, and finally, the corners of his mouth twitched upward.
Was he mocking him? Even so, it wasn’t unreasonable. He had effectively handed over the content he had worked so hard to record, risking his life, back to the Southern army.
Seuret’s gaze, which had been carefully examining the records, finally turned toward Chesson.
“What is the reason you are doing this, risking your life?”
It was an unexpected question, but Chesson decided not to lose his dignity until the end, even if he died, and lowered his voice.
“Someone like you wouldn’t understand.”
“I still want to hear it. The South is already cornered, and slavery is on the path to abolition. There is no need to go this far, is there?”
“A foolish question.”
Chesson glared straight into Seuret’s eyes and lashed out.
“Do you think that just because you abolish an institution, people’s perceptions will change? No. To actually change society, people’s fundamental perceptions must change. What changes by doing this? One more person in Europe will feel that black people are the same human beings as themselves. That one person will convey their thoughts to friends and family, and those family and friends will change their surroundings again. We…”
He would probably die once he finished saying this. Even so, he would get one shot in at this human scum before he died. However, just as he was about to open his mouth with determination, Seuret personally brought the notebook and drawings and politely returned them.
“…Huh?”
And then he turned around and called one of the armed soldiers.
“Henry.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Escort this person. Have him disguised, and if anyone asks, say he is a surveyor assigned to the peacekeeping force. Provide him with convenience so he can do everything he wants in Mississippi.”
“Understood.”
What is this? Was he not going to kill him? No, before that…
Chesson, unable to follow the situation, gaped.
“W-wait… what is this…”
“I understand that you are doing good work, but even so, shouldn’t you take care of your body while working?”
Seuret added with a smirk.
“You have to live a long time for that many more people to benefit from you. I will make sure you can return to London safely, so from next time, please take out an insurance policy or two before you go covering stories.”
“……”
It was his first time in his life having such an absurd experience. Above all, what was more surprising was the fact that the black soldiers around him were accepting this situation as if it were too natural. As if it were only natural for their master to do this.
‘This… is the most notorious slave owner in the South?’
As his thoughts reached this point, he naturally came up with one possibility. Was it not just himself, but the entire world that was under some huge misunderstanding?
“Hey, wait…”
“You must have a lot to say, but I’m saying I’ll save your life and help with your coverage. So, couldn’t you keep your mouth shut about me for a while?”
“Uh… uh-huh…”
“If you really want to write, please just tell the story in a memoir or something after 15 or 20 years have passed. That much would be fine.”
Leaving behind words that he couldn’t tell if they were a joke or serious, he turned away just like that. Chesson opened his mouth to apologize, but Seuret was already moving away. Watching the loyal black people following behind him, Chesson felt a sense of wonder.
And instinctively, he picked up his pen to record this scene, but stopped.
‘Right. That person must also be acting with his own sense of cause.’
He, who was walking the same path, could not interfere with that. The only way to repay this kindness was to record this holy war in even greater detail. Chesson renewed his resolve and gripped his pen.
“…Are you sure this is okay?”
“What?”
“That Englishman. If he gets blinded by a scoop and mentions you, Master, it will become a headache.”
What if he breaks a huge exposé that there is a high possibility that James Seuret is behind this massive uprising? Then I’d have no choice but to borrow Palmerston’s connections from my father-in-law to smooth things over. But I can tell just by looking. That person is not a journalist hungry for views, but a truly respectable journalist who can use even his life as firewood for his convictions.
It doesn’t make sense in the first place to kill such a person just to silence him. Rather, it’s best to clearly clear the debt of gratitude and ask him to keep his mouth shut for a while.
“One must show proper respect to a person working with a noble will.”
“I agree with that too.”
“Rather, it seems good to plan the next move on the premise that that journalist’s report will spread throughout Europe.”
More intensely and more spectacularly. It would be a shame if only the North came as mourners, so it would be good if England or France also came as guests. Since the South is finished anyway, isn’t it my job to hold the funeral as grandly as possible?
Let’s make the journey artistic, shall we?