The Darkness of the Union (3)
December 8, 1857.
The citizens of the United States, groaning under the weight of economic depression, were set ablaze by a new topic of conversation that finally provided a much-needed hit of dopamine.
"Death! Give him the death penalty!"
"Will is the victim! Show us the evidence that he’s a murderer!"
"This is all because those Democrats are running the country like dogs! Take responsibility, Buchanan! Resign, Buchanan!"
"Republicans, stop dragging your feet! You’re the reason the economic recovery is so slow!"
People have a fundamental habit of blaming others for the misfortunes that befall them. It’s no wonder that one of the key factors in a game’s success is whether or not you can "blame your teammates when you lose."
It’s not my fault things turned out this way.
Naturally, someone had to be blamed. The Republican supporters in the North, of course, pinned it all on the Democrats. Conversely, the Democratic supporters were incensed, claiming those lazy Northerners were just looking for an excuse to blame the government and the ruling party.
On top of that, the incident involved the arrest of a runaway slave—a trigger that polarized the North and South, and the ruling and opposition parties so extremely that it would have been more surprising if a bloody riot hadn't broken out in Boston.
Everywhere in the streets, processions of people were screaming at the top of their lungs, and flags were fluttering in the wind.
"Give him a fair trial!"
"Uphold the Fugitive Slave Act!"
"Death! Death! Death!"
Amidst this immense confrontation and whirlwind of madness, the politicians leading the United States began their work to either cut off this current or ride it to their advantage.
"My fellow citizens, what is the cause of this heartbreaking tragedy? Fundamentally, it is because the South continues to attempt to expand the institution of slavery. Why must this city of Boston, a city of good and free citizens, be forced to accept slavery!"
"Hear, hear! Slavery is the root of all evil!"
Lincoln, the rising star causing a sensation in the political world, was riding this wave and leading public opinion.
"Why did the slave named Will commit this act of violence? It is because immoral business owners slashed his wages simply because he was a runaway slave."
Lincoln had no intention of defending Will by claiming he was innocent from the start. After all, the public was already feeling repulsed by the fact that an escaped Black slave had beaten a white man and been captured. Therefore, to save Will’s life, he had to acknowledge that a wrong had been committed, but argue that it was not a capital offense worthy of death. Furthermore, Lincoln’s strategy was to expand the front, framing this not as Will’s personal problem, but as a structural issue of the United States—namely, the fault of slavery itself.
"After Anthony Burns, then Dred Scott, and now Will—this is the third time! If we do not address the structural problems, such tragedies will continue to repeat themselves. The Democratic Party is merely fostering the division and confrontation in our society!"
"Lincoln is right!"
"Abolish! Slavery!"
With the economic depression already fueling anger toward the ruling party, Lincoln’s incitement caused the dissatisfaction to erupt like a volcano.
For the Democratic Party, facing elections next year, this was something they could not simply stand by and watch. Douglas of Illinois, who had traveled to Boston in person to suppress Lincoln, did not back down and countered with his own fire every single day.
"Lincoln is merely teasing the voters with smooth, empty rhetoric!"
"If you truly think so, shall we have a debate?"
"By all means! I will dig deep so that everyone can clearly see the bottom of the hypocrite Lincoln!"
Since shouting at each other wouldn't lead to a conclusion, they decided to call all the listeners and have a showdown debate. As Douglas accepted the challenge Lincoln had thrown down, the debate of the century was moved up by a year compared to the original history.
The small ball set in motion by the death of Duncan Skinner had not stopped; it was growing in size without end.
By the time I arrived in Boston, the date for the debate had already been set, and the supporters of both the Republican and Democratic parties were gathering.
I knew of the Lincoln-Douglas debates well. Was it not the legendary showdown where they debated the legitimacy of slavery seven times, serving as the catalyst for Lincoln’s fame to spread throughout the United States?
It was strange that such a debate was happening in Boston instead of Illinois, but I supposed this was one of the butterfly effects of history.
As soon as I arrived in Boston, I unpacked my bags and headed to the hotel to meet Senator Douglas. As a major planter from the South and someone tied to this incident as the owner of Cedar Grove, I had no choice but to pay my respects to a heavyweight of the Democratic Party.
"Nice to meet you. I am James Sett."
"Oh! Welcome. I’ve heard so much about you that my ears are worn out; it is a great pleasure to finally meet you."
Despite the impending showdown with Lincoln, Douglas’s expression did not seem particularly tense. In fact, while people said Lincoln was a strong candidate for the next Senate election, that was merely the unilateral claim of the Republican Party. In reality, Stephen Douglas was a true powerhouse who had monopolized the Senate seat in Illinois for ten years.
Usually, using words that are too strong makes one look weak. As if to prove that a true powerhouse shows a composed and serious attitude, Douglas was full of ease throughout.
"I heard the news. You are to have a debate with Lincoln at Faneuil Hall."
"Ah... you heard as well. It just happened to turn out that way."
"Was there any reason to face him? After all, unlike the House, Senators are elected indirectly by the state legislature."
"Even so, with Lincoln making such noise, if I, his opponent, were to appear as if I were avoiding him, it could have a negative impact on the entire party. I must crush him here and nip the bud."
It would be nice if you could crush him, but it’s obvious you’re just going to raise his profile.
Faneuil Hall, where the debate was to be held, was nicknamed the "Cradle of Liberty" and was a holy ground of the American Revolution. The location itself favored Lincoln, and as the challenger, he had nothing to lose even if he were slightly pushed in the debate. Conversely, for Douglas, one slip could cost him his Senate seat, so this was a confrontation with unilaterally high risks for one side.
In other words, Lincoln had cleverly steered the situation, and Douglas had been forced to step into this swamp despite knowing better.
"Senator, how do you think the situation will unfold? To be honest, I only just arrived in Boston, so I haven't been briefed on the detailed investigation."
"Ah... I suppose that’s true. Actually, nothing has changed. He’s still keeping his mouth shut and saying nothing. It’s so frustrating. Depending on whether or not that fellow is the murderer, the atmosphere of the debate could change completely."
If it became known that Will was one of the culprits who killed Duncan Skinner, the atmosphere would inevitably tilt toward the Democratic Party. No matter how much Lincoln tried to shift the focus toward the legitimacy of slavery, they could pressure him by telling him not to muddy the waters. Conversely, if Will were truly just a runaway slave, it would be much easier for Lincoln to lead the situation.
However, since the person holding the key to the incident was not saying a word, both sides were forced to enter the debate while keeping various possibilities open.
"Senator Douglas, do you intend to push forward with the claim that Will is the murderer?"
"If I do that and it turns out to be untrue, I could face a serious backlash, so I shouldn't use overly definitive language. Seeing as he’s kept his mouth shut until now, I intend to go with a tone that suggests he is highly suspicious."
"That is wise."
In truth, if I, who knew the full story of the incident, were to step in in earnest, I could manipulate the direction of this debate as I pleased. To put it bluntly, logic is not that important. Humans are creatures more influenced by emotion than reason.
Take the debate itself, for example. Just because someone crushes their opponent with a sharp, incisive remark doesn't guarantee it will help them in the election. Depending on how the crushed party handles themselves, they could even absorb sympathy votes.
However, I had not yet judged how far I should intervene in this debate. How could I formulate a strategy when I knew nothing of Will’s will or attitude?
"If it is you, Senator, I am sure you will do well. I, too, will do my best to uncover the truth of the incident. I have already submitted an application to visit him at the federal court."
"Since you are legally his owner, there is no basis for the court to refuse. If you find anything out, please be sure to tell me."
"I would like to do that, but I don't know if he will open his mouth."
It must be burning Douglas up inside, but I secretly felt that I didn't want to interfere with this showdown of the century. And wouldn't everyone living in America pay attention to this incident if the two of them were to trade heated words? In any case, there wasn't much I could do in this era of division and confrontation. Even now, and in the future, the North and South would continue to repeat this cycle, accumulating hatred and anger.
Even if it were impossible for me to dramatically reconcile them, there were many ways to melt that blade of hatred and turn it into money.
However, even if I liked making money and raising my profile, in a world like this, if I stood out too much, I would be immediately "re-educated." I maintained the position of a third party as much as possible and knocked on the door of the federal court.
"I’ve come because the permit was granted. I am James Sett, the 'current' owner of the Cedar Grove plantation."
"Ah, you’ve arrived. Please come this way. I will guide you."
Usually, prisoners are held in regular jails, but Will was a high-profile prisoner who was setting the entire nation on fire. Like the Anthony Burns case in the past, Will was detained in a cell in the basement of the federal court, and contact with the outside world was strictly restricted. However, because I was his legal owner, I could exercise my property rights, and thanks to that, I had been granted an exceptional visitation permit.
Arriving at the basement with Leo and Ben, I handed the accompanying sheriff a pouch filled with dollars.
"If it’s alright, could we meet alone? I’m afraid that if I bring law enforcement with me, he might get scared again and keep his mouth shut."
"Of course, certainly. Hahaha!"
"Thank you. This isn't a bribe, but a gift to comfort you for your hard work, so please accept it with an easy mind."
"I’ve heard that Southern planters are gentlemen, and today I confirm that the rumor is true. Hahaha! Thank you. I will wait upstairs, so please take your time and come up comfortably when you are done."
As expected, dollars always know the answer, anytime, anywhere. The sheriff quickly tucked the pouch into his pocket and went back up, unable to suppress his wide grin. It might seem absurd to allow a murder suspect like Will to be visited without a guard, but surprisingly, in this era, it was perfectly normal.
I headed down without hesitation, opened the heavy door, and stepped inside to see a Black man in handcuffs, his head bowed low. Naturally, I had seen this fellow before. I had spoken to him a few times when he was hiding on my plantation with the slaves John Brown had intended to help escape.
Whether he remembered my face or not, his pupils trembled, and the heavy mouth that had reportedly not said a word until now opened.
"James... Mr. Sett?"
"Yes. Didn't you hear that I was coming?"
"I heard that a noble person would be visiting, but... I didn't know it was Mr. Sett. But where is the guard?"
"He’s gone. I told him to wait outside so we could talk, so don't worry and sit down comfortably."
If the fact that I already knew Will leaked out, it wouldn't be very good for me, so I had planned to do this from the start. As I sat in the chair and met his gaze, Will’s eyes welled up with tears, and he bowed his head as if to smash it into the desk.
"I am sorry! I have no face to show Mr. Sett... or Mr. Brown. I was so foolish..."
"I heard that Mr. Brown told you to blame everything on John Brown if you were caught, so why have you kept your mouth shut until now?"
"Even though I am an uneducated slave, I don't have the conscience to sell out my benefactor. Besides, didn't this happen because I insisted on coming to Boston? It is right for me to just keep my mouth shut until the end and die."
"If that’s the case, couldn't you just admit you did it?"
"I thought that the moment I opened my mouth, they would definitely use leading questions to find out the whereabouts of my accomplices or other colleagues. So, I will just keep my mouth shut and die."
He’s a better fellow than I thought.
His desire to repay a kindness and his resolve to keep his loyalty were both well above passing marks.
"Are you not afraid of dying?"
"I am afraid, but... I don't know what I should do in the future, so what is the point of living longer? I thought that if I just left the plantation, if I just came to the North, I could at least live my life as I wished, but that wasn't the case."
The small bird that dreamed of freedom had left its cage only to encounter not a vast world, but a dark, bottomless cave. The moment it realized that there was no world where it could fly freely, the bird decided to stop flying and fold its wings.
However, I do not believe those words. What is the point of living longer? That is nothing more than self-rationalization by someone who is not truly facing death. When I was suffering from terminal cancer in my previous life, I thought it would be better to just die, yet when the moment of death actually approached, didn't I pray to live?
It was obvious that the instinct to survive was writhing within him as well.
"Will, is it not unfair? If you die here like this, you are just a traitor who died after running wild without knowing your place. The Southerners will rejoice and toast to your death, and your name will become synonymous with mockery. Are you fine with that?"
"...I have no choice."
"No, if it were me, I would have a choice. If you cooperate with me."
In an instant, Will instinctively lifted his head. Yes, that look in his eyes. That hidden craving for life was the very proof.
"I will get you out. Instead, I will make you an offer."
An offer you absolutely cannot refuse.