The True Planter (2)
Exactly two days after the shocking trial that resulted in a guilty verdict for the white man who assaulted a Seuret Cotton employee, a smoke-filled room in Jackson, the capital of Mississippi, held a clandestine meeting.
Albert G. Brown, Benjamin Humphreys, and Ethelbert Barksdale. The three men sat around a table, maintaining a heavy silence.
"...This cannot go on."
Benjamin Humphreys was the first to speak. He was a major Southern landowner who had suffered the greatest blow from the abolition of slavery. Before the war, he had owned a staggering number of slaves, but now, all that remained in his hands were vast tracts of land—proof that he had once been a great planter.
"The complaints from our neighbors are piling up. We lost the war, we lost our slaves, and now we have to pay fines just for hitting a nigger."
"And a hefty sum of 185 dollars at that," Ethelbert Barksdale added. As a journalist, he had already grasped the exact flow of public opinion.
"Lately, there are so many people who ask me aggressively whenever they see me. They ask what on earth we fought for."
"......"
"They ask if it wasn't to keep the blacks as slaves. But we lost the war, lost our slaves, and now we have to bow our heads to the blacks. People are saying that if it was going to end like this, we should never have started the war in the first place."
Benjamin glanced around cautiously before finally adding the last remark.
"There is even talk that we are in this state because of the idiots who foolishly shouted for Southern independence."
Albert smoked his cigarette in silence. The idiots who foolishly shouted for Southern independence. There was no one here who didn't know who that was aimed at. After all, there were few people who had advocated for Southern independence as fiercely as the three men sitting here.
They had branded those who opposed independence as Northern spies to gain popularity and secure key positions. Albert had risen to become a Senator of the Confederate States, and Ethelbert had snatched the position of editor-in-chief at a newspaper. Benjamin had established himself as a planter symbolizing the Southern hardliners and had even received a commendation from President Jefferson Davis.
However, the war had ended too quickly, and the South had been crushed without ever having won a single proper victory.
"As you all probably suspect, I have gathered you here to implement what we discussed last time."
As Albert began, those gathered at the table swallowed hard.
"If you mean what we discussed last time, then surely..."
"We must create a scapegoat to deflect the dissatisfaction directed at us."
"A target to divert the anger of our Southern brothers."
Last time, they hadn't been able to pinpoint a suitable target, so the meeting had circled around in circles before they decided to postpone it. But the fact that they had arranged another meeting meant there was someone in mind.
Sure enough, Albert quietly uttered the name.
"James Seuret."
One of the candidates discussed previously. The most effective, yet most dangerous name, had surfaced to the surface once again.
"S-Seuret?"
"That is correct."
"But isn't he too big of a fish? I remember there was quite a bit of talk last time that he was dangerous."
"That is true. He is the richest man in Mississippi and a man who helped the South by smuggling food even during the war. Furthermore, isn't he at the forefront of post-war reconstruction?"
"That is exactly why he is the best choice."
Albert ground his cigarette into the ashtray and glared. "Because he is a big fish, it will be effective."
"...That may be so, but..."
Catching a small fry would only cause a momentary flare-up, with no real impact on public opinion across the South. But James Seuret could be the firewood to set the entire South ablaze, and he had just provided the perfect opportunity to catch him in a trap.
"Look at James Seuret's recent actions. He is hiring blacks faster than anyone else, appointing them as executives, and even suing a white man who hit a black person, driving him to bankruptcy."
"That... is true."
"Can such a person be called the hope of the South? He has been corrupted. He has become a puppet of the North for his own personal gain."
Whether it was true or not, from now on, this would be the truth that people would accept.
"Furthermore, Seuret is close to Chairman Farrar."
"Ah... that is true. Chairman Farrar opposed independence even before the war started. If we weave that in together..."
"'Seuret was never as devoted to the South as we thought. You can tell just by looking at how close he is with Chairman Farrar, who opposed the war. And it is precisely because of people like them that our South was defeated.'"
Besides, isn't it also true that Seuret is hiring and feeding blacks on a larger scale than any other white man? People don't usually get angry while carefully weighing what is true. The masses are a breed that gets excited by intuitive and clean lies rather than boring, pedantic facts.
Ethelbert's eyes lit up as he nodded.
"I will make the incident where Seuret sued the white man a front-page story. And by subtly mentioning his relationship with Chairman Farrar, I will clearly show how corrupted the Southern planter, who was once the pride of us all, has become."
"Perfect."
Once the media stoked the fire, the hardliners who were currently lying low would all realize the situation. If they all rose up and started tearing into Seuret and Farrar, their own safety would be guaranteed. No, they might even be able to stand tall as the leaders of the South to be rebuilt, using them as a stepping stone.
Yes. The South had been defeated in the war because of people like James Seuret. Albert decided to push this logic, even though it seemed absurd to him as well.
Who knows? With a one-in-a-hundred-million chance, this might actually be true.
If not, oh well.
"How is the status?"
Seuret Cotton had begun operations in earnest, but there was still time before the full-scale cotton planting season. Since this was a period for reorganizing the organization and making preparations, the money going out was incomparably greater than the money coming in.
"Currently, the employee turnover rate is stable at less than 1%, and in fact, the number of people wanting to move from other farms to ours is increasing."
"Good. Then, what about additional expansion?"
"It's possible, but we are reaching the limit of our land."
Leo spread out a map and pointed with his finger at the farm land I owned, which was painted in red, one by one.
"There is a lack of land to increase cotton farms further. The existing land is already being utilized to its maximum capacity, and most of the surrounding land is owned by others."
"Hmm. I suppose there's a limit to how much I could buy, even though I tried to buy as much as possible."
No matter how many workers I take in, if there isn't enough land to plant cotton, I can't increase sales any further. But fortunately, I still had countless lands left to harvest cotton. Because there were plenty of farms that the Dixie folks had put up as collateral to take food during the war.
"I need to start making the farms I took as collateral during the war my own."
"Yes. That is the most certain method. However..."
"You mean there's a concern that if I recover the land too blatantly, the backlash will be huge? It's a sensitive time right after the war, so it wouldn't be good if rumors spread that Seuret Cotton recovered a large number of farms."
"Yes. That is exactly it."
Certainly, no matter how many times I reviewed it, there was no legal problem. It is natural to recover the land once the repayment deadline has passed, as specified in the contract. But just because it's right doesn't mean people will like it. They are already on edge from losing the war, so if news gets out that someone is accumulating massive wealth by causing others pain, they won't look upon me kindly.
Is there no natural way? A way to make it look like I had no choice but to recover the land, rather than taking it away from farm owners ruined by the war's defeat.
Just as I was pondering that for a moment,
"Chairman!"
Ben, his face pale, burst through the door in a hurry.
"Chairman, you... you need to see this quickly!"
Ben, gasping for breath as if he had run all the way from the entrance, handed me the fresh newspaper of the day. I wondered what could be so urgent, but as soon as I checked it, I knew immediately which article he was pointing to without needing an explanation.
"...What is this now?"
First, I read the article content aloud so everyone could hear.
"'James Seuret is trying to improve the human rights of blacks under the pretext of it being for the company. He is suing white people, paying wages to blacks, and even appointing blacks as executives.'"
"Ch-Chairman, this is..."
"'Furthermore, James Seuret has a close relationship with Chairman Farrar, who opposed the war. They met frequently during the war, and they are still cooperating closely even now. If so, a question arises. Did this James Seuret truly do his best for the South's victory in the war?'"
"······"
Besides this, the article was plastered with content that was clearly targeting me, no matter who looked at it. Leo, who had heard the entire content, unlike his usual self, couldn't suppress his anger, his eyes bloodshot as he raised his voice.
"What kind of bullshit is this! Chairman, we must drag the bastard who wrote this article and beat him to a pulp!"
"That's right. So that they never do such impudent things again..."
No. Responding to this kind of media war with force is the worst of the worst strategies. But the more I look at this, the more ridiculous it is. Eventually, after looking over the article once more, I couldn't help but let out a dry laugh.
"Pfft! Ah, this is really something."
"Chairman?"
"This is no laughing matter!"
"No, no, look at this. How did they manage to write only the facts so perfectly?"
They must have written it down with tension as if it were some grand conspiracy theory, but I wonder what expression the person who wrote this article would make if they knew that all of it was true.
"Chairman!"
"Yeah, yeah, I know that too."
But that is that, and this is this. I wiped the smile off my face and threw the newspaper into the trash can.
"It's certainly an article that could cause a huge blow if I just sit still. I don't think I should ignore it as if it's none of my business."
"Then..."
"Leo, contact Chairman Farrar immediately. Let's implement that thing we talked about last time."
"Yes!"
"There's an event in three days, right? I'll just ask for an opportunity to speak there."
I had been thinking that it was highly likely someone would grab onto me or Farrar once the war ended, but I never imagined they would weave it all together and strike. I'll admit it. It was a pretty sharp attack. So, I have no choice but to return it with a genuine punch.
Chairman Farrar, who received my letter, moved immediately according to the plan. An event to mark the first session of the newly gathered Mississippi State Legislature. He called me under the pretext of having me give a congratulatory speech, and since it was such an occasion, he invited all the various Southern newspapers as well.
Perhaps it was because of the expectation that I, who had recently been at the center of controversy, might express my position. The event venue was packed.
"Seuret is coming out in person?"
"Is he going to say something because of that article?"
"I'm curious. How he'll make excuses."
"But isn't it true that Seuret is strangely favorable to blacks?"
"Hey, still, look at who Seuret is."
I hadn't even stepped onto the podium yet, but I could feel that everyone's attention was focused entirely on me. Among those here, there would be very few who were interested in the re-formation of the Mississippi State Legislature. Then, it is the role of a star to meet expectations, so I walked up to the podium with a pace that was as leisurely as could be, so that everyone could see.
And.
"It is an honor to stand here at this event to celebrate the new beginning of Mississippi."
I opened the first salvo in a very standard and ordinary way.
"The war is over, and we are facing a new future. Although we were defeated, seeing the faces of everyone gathered here, I feel a conviction welling up that we still have hope."
Unexpectedly, as I began to list only the obvious congratulatory remarks, a look of disappointment appeared on people's faces for a moment. I didn't miss that moment and immediately changed the subject.
"However."
I could feel the air in the hall tightening in an instant.
"Our South was defeated. Why is that?"
"······"
"It is because such slander and schemes were rampant at a time when we should have been united among ourselves."
I took the newspaper out of my pocket and unfolded it. Feature articles claiming that James Seuret, the talk of the town recently, is a hypocrite had poured out one after another.
"Most of the people here have probably seen this article. The reporter is denouncing me as a corrupted planter and criticizing me as a spokesperson for blacks."
The audience stirred. Distrust, suspicion, belief. All kinds of gazes were poured out, and I did not avoid this blade of verification in the slightest.
"But conversely, I want to ask. Who is the truly corrupted planter? I hope everyone here will think about it at least once."
"······"
"When we were all proud planters, did we ever sit idly by while someone dared to touch our property?"
Absolutely not. Since slaves were the planter's most precious asset, punishing anyone who harmed their slaves by any means necessary was the planter's greatest virtue.
"Was the spirit of a true planter now to consider it irrelevant whether the blacks under me live or die because slavery is prohibited by law?"
The eyes of some people who had been sending me sharp gazes became confused. They must have thought I would deny or ignore this suspicion, and never imagined I would break through it head-on.
"That remark is nothing more than a pathetic self-confession that one cannot exercise dominance without a system!"
"Now that I hear it, that also makes sense..."
"I don't want to live like that!"
Poor Dixies who have forcibly liberated all the slaves under their command and can no longer feel the same sense of superiority as in the old days. I present to them a new hope and the form of a distant utopia that can never be reached.
"Although we were defeated in the war and slavery has disappeared, my over a thousand employees do not want to leave the farm!"
"Ooooooh!"
"They chose to remain as employees under me! They express infinite respect for me, and if someone insults me, they get angry as if they themselves were insulted! Because the spirit as a planter, which does not fade even if the law changes and the system disappears, remains in my heart!"
Can you still dominate blacks and receive their loyalty even though slavery has been abolished? Isn't the one who dominates blacks even without laws and systems the true cotton aristocrat?
"Therefore, I want to ask in this place!"
I spread my fingers toward the audience.
"Am I the true planter, who receives respect and reverence from countless blacks even though slavery has disappeared, or is the one who writes such slanderous articles and tries to tear others down the true planter!"
"Seuret! Seuret!"
"James Seuret! Please tell us the secret!"
"The method to become a true planter!"
Thunderous applause, and longing.
"I implore everyone here. Although we were defeated in the war, the nobility and strong spirit as a planter must not be shaken! That is the driving force that makes us who we are!"
I hit my chest with my fist and roared toward the mastermind who was surely here.
"I promise. I will reclaim the lost pride of the South! I, James Seuret! I will dedicate my remaining life and all my abilities to lead this land to glory once again! Everyone, let us walk this path of glory together!"
"Waaaaaaaah!"
People were rolling on the floor and cheering. Newspaper reporters were moving their pens like crazy. I spread my arms wide and embraced their cheers.
This is a declaration of war against the person who printed this article and the mastermind behind it. Let's argue it out fiercely. As to which side is the reason for being defeated in this war.
Ah, come to think of it, it's true that the reason the South was crushed is because of me.
That's a secret.