The Taste of the Original (2)
As a man of vast knowledge and refinement, I was well aware that 19th-century Europe—London in particular—was overflowing with socialists.
I had assumed that as long as I avoided those with a suspicious vibe, I would be fine. But good heavens.
Who would have guessed that our bearded cult leader was working as a reporter for the New York Tribune?
I had only granted a brief interview to be kind to a reporter from a New York newspaper—the very city where my hospital was currently operating in full swing.
“So, I am a capitalist who admires a noble life more than anyone else. Long live capitalism, hooray, hooray, hooray!”
“But aren’t you implementing strange welfare policies that would make British capitalists click their tongues in disapproval?”
“That, too, is to earn more money. My annual income to be recorded this year will exceed 60,000 pounds.”
If this man later writes a book and weaves me into it, mentioning James Seuret, I might be preserved for generations as one of the causes for the birth of Marxism.
Ah, wait. Didn’t Marx not actually create Marxism?
I don’t know the details, but compared to this man, the Conservative Party figures were mild, with a Scoville index converging on zero.
“However, the management style of Seuret Cotton is certainly different from existing enterprises. I was convinced that there would be a deep insight here, different in texture from other capitalists or socialist activists.”
“Didn’t I tell you? It’s all with the intention of earning more money. Ah, unfortunately, my time is up. If you’ll excuse me.”
I had told him I couldn’t spare much time, so this was an unavoidable time-over.
The fuzzy communist leader looked at me with suspicious eyes before turning away with a look that suggested he had resolved something.
An all-time mistake of accepting an interview without thinking... no, wait.
If I change my perspective, even if it was an unexpected happening, it might have been like getting a vaccination in advance.
Judging by the conversation, it seems those who have been dyed in red are paying attention to Seuret Cotton’s management style, but in a way, this was a natural flow.
Because those who were exploited as slaves until recently were now enjoying an environment that slapped the cheeks of ordinary laborers ten times over as soon as they were liberated.
“I’ll have to prepare for it as soon as I return.”
I don’t know about now, but later, I might be slandered as James Seuret being a socialist and James Cotton being a red company.
For the attacking side, facts weren’t important; what mattered was creating a pretext to bite into something, no matter what.
“Truly, nothing in this world is easy.”
Still, I should be able to enjoy my London trip with a light heart until the wedding, right?
There are no obstacles that could block the sightseeing route for Cecilia and me. Absolutely.
...There was a time when I thought that way.
Having sent back the young cult leader of the Demonic Cult who hadn’t yet awakened as the Heavenly Demon, I entered the lodging provided by Baron Eldery and stared back and forth between an awkwardly smiling Cecilia and a middle-aged man wearing a strangely flashy suit.
“Cecilia, who is this gentleman here?”
“Ah, you’re here. This is Benjamin Disraeli of the Conservative Party. He said he was waiting for us to arrive.”
“Forgive me for dropping by unannounced. But I thought it would be better for us to greet each other now rather than seeing you for the first time on the day of the wedding, so please forgive my rudeness.”
“Ah... yes.”
Following the bearded one, this time the action leader of the Conservative Party has arrived.
Kuaaaak, Chairman Pera.
I want to see horse racing, horse racing.
If I had known this would happen, I would have gone around with that man who said he would research the local horse racing culture. Why on earth did I come to London first?
Cecilia looked back and forth between me and Disraeli, then muttered that she should go greet her father and slipped away.
Once she left and the reception room door closed, Benjamin Disraeli stared at me, lightly twirling the cane he was holding.
“How is London? It must be very different from the scenery of the New World.”
“It is indeed a city worthy of being called the center of the world. It is my first time seeing a city where antique tradition and modern values coexist so perfectly.”
“Tradition and roots. Good words, but sometimes they make it hard to breathe.”
He lifted his teacup and chuckled.
“For people like me and you, who have to crawl up with bare hands, isn’t it an even more exhausting place?”
“As for me, I just luckily inherited a lot of wealth, so I’m far from having to ‘achieve’ things. Rather, I have always respected the ability of Mr. Disraeli, who became the core of the Conservative Party despite being of commoner origin, unlike me.”
This wasn’t just empty talk.
In the Conservative Party, crawling with aristocrats and landowners, a Jewish commoner reaching the pinnacle of the party is something that only happens in novels.
It was proof that this man’s political sense and survival instinct were at a monstrous level.
“There are still many narrow-minded people in London’s social circles. There will surely be bastards who talk about you being a former slave owner and whatnot.”
“······.”
“Don’t pay attention to them. I’ve been tormented my whole life for being Jewish. But, you see.”
Disraeli, who had been smiling brightly, saw the corners of his eyes curve slightly.
“If we succeed, those bastards won’t be able to do anything but chew on us from behind. Because the winner is justice.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
It’s not just my imagination that he’s been trying to form an internal intimacy with me since earlier, right?
Of course, there must be a reason for this slippery way of speaking.
This big shot wouldn’t have come all the way here just to complain about his life to me the day before my wedding.
As I waited for the main point to come out, Disraeli struck in with an indifferent tone.
“So, is growing the scale of your company going smoothly?”
“Thanks to Britain always importing vast quantities, it is flowing very smoothly. I want to continue to have a mutually beneficial relationship with Britain in the future.”
“That is a very exemplary answer that is pleasant to hear. If it is profitable for both sides, there would be nothing better.”
Clink.
The sound of the teacup being set down was unusually loud.
“However, the emergence of a giant corporation that controls the South’s massive cotton industry is very closely linked to Britain’s national interest. I know it’s rude to a groom-to-be, but I had no choice but to visit in person.”
That gaze, as if piercing through to the depths of a person’s lungs.
As I stared into those eyes that seemed to say they wouldn’t return until they had dug up to my very bottom, a chill ran down my spine.
In the first place, how could a commoner, and a Jewish one at that, reach the pinnacle of the British aristocratic society that values lineage with ordinary ability?
I was convinced that the person in front of me might be a more dangerous figure than any politician I had met so far, if we look purely at ability.
If I tried to speak vaguely or hide my true intentions here, I could be branded on a blacklist that the Conservative Party must exclude.
No matter how much protection I have from Baron Eldery, if the entire Conservative Party decides to bury me, my London business will be finished that day.
It can’t be helped.
Let’s be honest.
I must discard the arrogance that I can completely deceive the other party.
I am an American anyway, so I cannot enter the British Parliament, so why would I have a reason to associate with only one side—Liberal or Conservative—and exclude the other?
I will serve my father-in-law with the utmost care, but that doesn’t mean I need to become a community of destiny with the Liberal Party, where I can’t even wear a badge.
I will mix 90% truth with 1% lies and exaggeration to build an image of myself that the other side can accept.
To appear as a figure who, despite being deeply entangled with a Liberal Party figure, is worth the Conservative Party holding hands with.
“Councilor, there is only one thought in my head. Growing the scale of the company. Only that.”
“Hoho, just earning more money? Hmmm...”
Disraeli made an indifferent expression as if he were a bit disappointed.
But at my following statement, his gaze changed again.
“My annual income is only about 60,000 pounds now, but this is only the first year. By next year, I will increase the scale to 100,000 pounds, and the year after that, to 200,000 pounds.”
“······200,000 pounds?”
“That 200,000 pounds is just a passing point. My final goal is to hold more than 10% of the total production of the American cotton industry in my hands.”
It’s 10% in words, but monopolizing 1/10th of the total US production is a scale that transcends imagination.
Considering the tens of thousands of workers in the cotton fields, their families, logistics, and office workers, it’s truly at a level where a country of James Seuret is being created within the United States.
It’s no different from a declaration that I will build a real cotton empire, not a metaphor.
If this happens, above all, an individual will be able to determine the supply and price of the cotton market.
The light of disappointment vanished from Disraeli’s face, and a seriousness that hadn’t been there before lingered.
“I have never seen a case in the British Empire where an individual held that much wealth. Moreover, monopolizing a national necessity like cotton means you intend to hold that much power and strength as well, do you know that?”
“That is why I am trying to build connections with the British political sphere.”
“······.”
“Baron Eldery is my father-in-law, so I will serve him sincerely. But I am a person based on agriculture and land. The Conservative aristocrats, who traditionally maintain order and reap massive profits through land, were the very objects of my long-standing admiration.”
This was flattery that anyone with even the slightest interest in the South would have to believe.
In fact, it was common knowledge that Southern planters tried to follow the British land aristocrats as role models.
“Certainly, we are more worthy of admiration than the merchants of the Liberal Party, who have weak roots. So, what do you want to do with that massive wealth? It wouldn’t be simple luxury.”
“I want to build a golden empire that will reign for over 100 years, which the President of the United States, who only lasts for an 8-year term, dares not touch.”
Power is finite, but money is infinite.
It could be called truly vulgar, but it’s an idea that only an American without roots could come up with.
A moment of silence passed.
Before long, Disraeli burst into laughter.
“Hahaha! A young person with quite an ambition. A golden empire built on cotton... good. I like your honesty.”
“Thank you.”
“If it’s for that massive ambition, you should also become a good friend to our party. The merchants of the Liberal Party are good at smelling money, but they don’t know how to manage an empire.”
“I will show you not just with words, but with actions.”
Anyway, for the sake of my business, I intended to take out insurance on both the Conservative and Liberal parties.
Disraeli smiled as if satisfied, then picked up his hat with a stylish gesture.
“Good. I will be able to toast with a very happy heart at the wedding. Sorry for the interruption.”
Phew.
Just as I was about to let out a sigh of relief, thinking I had somehow convinced him, Disraeli, who was getting up, turned around as if he had suddenly remembered something.
“Ah, and Seuret. As you know well, cotton fabric is not just a product for us, but also a powerful diplomatic tool.”
“...Yes?”
“Previously, British cotton fabric couldn’t exert power due to China’s low-price offensive and human-wave tactics, but recently, as the Jiangnan region was devastated by a rebellion caused by a pseudo-religious cult, the Qing Dynasty is facing a cotton fabric famine.”
In an instant, I heard the sound of puzzle pieces fitting together in my head.
Why Britain is so happy about the early conclusion of the American Civil War.
Why the Liberal and Conservative parties are trying to show their faces at my wedding as if competing.
The reason became clear.
“Originally, I was anxious that we wouldn’t be able to take advantage of this great opportunity because of the American Civil War, but thanks to God’s guidance, hasn’t cotton supply normalized? Thanks to that, the huge market called Qing, which we couldn’t penetrate until now, has opened wide before us.”
“The Taiping Rebellion will still be calmed within a few years...”
“Well, even if the rebellion is suppressed, for various reasons, Qing’s cotton fabric industry will not be able to return to the way it was. Don’t misunderstand, it’s not that we are going to do anything, it’s just a prediction.”
Aha, so you’re saying you don’t have any other intentions, and it’s just a rational prediction.
“Thank you for sharing many good words.”
“Yes, I enjoyed it too. See you at the ceremony.”
The British Empire spirit that others’ misfortune is my happiness, so I must utilize this opportunity to the extreme.
My conscience, which I prided myself on having boiled down well in the South, had no choice but to fold one step before the deep taste served by the original soup house brothers.
Is this what they call the taste of the original?
Following the Heavenly Demon, now Captain Juriton.
Indeed, the world is wide, and there is no end to learning.
Please take care. I will learn many good things and go.