The Cunning Hero of a Chaotic Age (3)
The Americans’ feelings toward England were quite peculiar.
They claimed to follow a parliamentary system, yet they remained trapped in the antiquated remnants of a class-based society. In truth, while Americans prided themselves on having established a system far more advanced than England’s, the American upper class secretly yearned for the elegant lives of British aristocrats.
It is not particularly strange for a nation with an extreme complex regarding its lack of history and tradition to admire England, which was becoming the very foundation of those things. Considering that even in the 21st century, countless American billionaires dream of living like British nobility, there is no need to add further commentary for the 19th century.
Though they try their best not to show it, a cursory glance at America reveals that this country is tightly wound in an inferiority complex toward England. That is precisely why I mobilized the media to scratch their most sensitive itch with surgical precision.
In particular, because Baron Eldery was not just a typical member of the House of Commons but a bona fide aristocrat, he was the perfect figure to stimulate the South’s sense of inferiority.
I had simply placed a camera near the landing for a commemorative photo, that was all.
Embarrassing, eye-watering nonsense erupted across the entire South. Honestly, even I, the one who had stoked the fire, didn't know it would catch so well. As expected, the more people shout that the aristocratic system is outdated, the more they actually desire to be aristocrats themselves.
In the midst of this farce, I attended the party welcoming Baron Eldery. I exchanged simple greetings with him, and after a few polite words, he moved on to speak with Macrae and Parer. Since the appropriate counterparts for a First Lord of the Treasury were governors or senators, it made sense. Considering that I was the one actually buying the stocks, the situation was quite bitter, but what could I do?
Regardless of being called the "hope of the South," I was still just a twenty-one-year-old greenhorn. No matter how much money I had or how much people hyped me up, I lacked the gravitas that comes with age. This was one area that money couldn't cover, so it was actually more profitable to appear humble at times like this.
While I was sipping wine and playing the role of a modest young man, a voice called out.
"Excuse me, are you Mr. James Sett?"
I turned to see a beauty with light blonde hair and large blue eyes looking up at me.
"Yes, I am James Sett."
"Nice to meet you. I am Cecilia Stanley, daughter of Baron Edward Stanley. My close friends call me Cici, so please feel free to call me that."
My pen pal, Miss Chase, was someone who drew attention wherever she went, but this young lady from the Stanley family, Cecilia, also seemed far from ordinary. For starters, the overwhelming beauty that drew every eye in the room was... *ahem*.
"It is a pleasure to meet you. Are you enjoying the party?"
"This is my first time crossing the Atlantic, so everything is new and fascinating. My sister seems to be having a good time, so as her older sister, I'm happy."
She pointed to a young girl standing with the family lawyer in the distance and chuckled.
"As you said, it's not quite London, but I'm sure you'll find some unique charms here. I hope you and your sister enjoy yourselves, Miss Stanley."
"I would like to, but I have to handle some business my father entrusted to me. Honestly... when I told him he should buy some stable railroad stocks, he wouldn't listen, but now that he needs to dispose of them, he asks for my help. It's too much."
She glanced at Baron Eldery, who was talking with Governor Macrae, and shook her head. I had guessed as much when she arrived with not just her sister but a lawyer in tow, but it seemed she had been delegated the practical work of stock disposal.
Perhaps the Baron himself, as an aristocrat and First Lord of the Treasury, couldn't be seen selling railroad stocks too blatantly. I hadn't expected him to use his daughter instead of a lawyer, but in any case, it just went to show how inconveniently the nobility lived.
"You don't need to worry too much. I've already heard the situation from the Governor and Senator Parer. I will purchase as much as I can, and if necessary, I will introduce you to other planters with the capacity to help."
"I appreciate that. But tell me, Mr. Sett, is losing money your hobby?"
She asked a question with quite a bit of bite, all while maintaining an innocent face. I shrugged my shoulders and gave a bitter smile, as if to say, "How could that be?"
"Of course not. I am simply enduring the immediate loss with the belief that major railroad companies will eventually recover their stock prices."
"That means you're aiming for a low-point buy. Actually, I have similar thoughts. I told my father that Pennsylvania or Illinois Central would recover their stock prices as soon as the panic ends, so we shouldn't sell them, but I was ignored again. He said that for the sake of a First Lord of the Treasury's reputation, holding onto stocks that have lost two-thirds of their value is too big a loss."
If he had just listened to his daughter, he wouldn't have had to suffer such losses. It was a pity. Thanks to him, I was just grateful to be receiving blue-chip railroad stocks at a bargain price.
"Miss Stanley, you seem to have sufficient judgment. Have you ever thought about investing in stocks yourself?"
"Why wouldn't I? Actually, that's why I have a request for you, Mr. Sett."
"Are you perhaps asking me to sell the stocks your father is selling back to him?"
"How did you know? Actually, I have some money I've been saving up."
To me, who managed money in the tens of thousands of dollars, the amount seemed cute, but Cecilia proudly wrote the figure on a piece of paper, boasting about how much she had grown her money through investments. Then, in a voice only I could hear:
"Of course, I'm not asking you to do this for free. I was originally going to tell my father that he should pull out of the Southern cotton industry within two years at the latest. If you help me, I won't say that."
She was offering a deal that made my eyes widen.
"Hmm... why did you come to that conclusion?"
"Because it looks dangerous. Since I've been here, every politician I meet explains until they're blue in the face that the Southern economy is far superior to the North's, but from what I see, this isn't normal. Oh, of course, this might sound uncomfortable to you..."
"Not at all. It doesn't bother me in the slightest."
In truth, I had been curious. How would the South appear to the eyes of a British intellectual with common sense and rational judgment?
"My father seems to have been quite impressed by the Southern economy, which doesn't shake even during an economic panic. It's no wonder. He lost nearly ten thousand pounds in this panic. Aside from his belief that slavery is barbaric and evil, he seems interested in the money the Southern cotton industry earns so steadily."
"There are certainly many people like that."
"But overconfidence is poison... From what I've seen, the Southern politicians are a bit... I'm sorry, they just seem too full of themselves."
In a word, they don't know their place. She saw it accurately.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"When I heard that you were sweeping up blue-chip railroad stocks, I thought you might be someone who looks a bit further ahead. So I thought we might be able to talk... what do you think?"
"You saw correctly. I am someone who is always prepared to have an in-depth discussion with a wise person."
"Really? You don't think it's just the nonsense of an immature girl?"
"I've heard people say 'what would a young greenhorn know' a few times myself, so I know exactly how you feel, Miss Stanley. What matters is how logically sound something is; gender and age are irrelevant."
If things go well, I might be able to build a personal relationship with the British First Lord of the Treasury, not just put him in my debt. I couldn't miss an opportunity that money couldn't buy.
* * *
Around the time the United States was heating up due to the British First Lord of the Treasury’s visit and the flyers spread by pro-Democratic media, Rockefeller and Carnegie were facing a critical test, looking only at the immediate gains rather than such base agitation.
"So, you're saying I should try to acquire this grain warehouse."
"That is correct. My investor said he would watch how quickly and efficiently you acquire this place before making a decision."
"Were there any difficulties in acquiring this warehouse?"
"The owner is in a tight spot financially due to the panic, so his income has dropped significantly. However, this grain warehouse is such a goldmine that he doesn't want to part with it. If it weren't for these difficult economic times, you wouldn't be able to get your hands on it at this price, so it's only natural to be greedy."
Carnegie nodded quietly as he listened to Rockefeller’s explanation. Even to his eyes, this was clearly a prime piece of land that would guarantee large profits once the economy recovered. Carnegie had meticulously analyzed the two companies, SS and SM, and felt a great attraction to the boldness of the investor supporting Rockefeller.
Being able to spend cash so daringly during an economic panic like this meant he possessed both the insight and the financial power to back it up. However, to occupy a position equal to Rockefeller, who appeared to be his top confidant, he needed to show even better results.
Fortunately, in his eyes, Rockefeller might have had decent business sense, but he was still a naive young man who hadn't shed his "bookworm" image. Or, to be blunt, he was confident he could do the job much more efficiently.
"It's a breeze. I'll handle it quickly."
Conversely, Rockefeller didn't particularly like Carnegie, who was so full of himself. At first, he felt a slight affinity because they were of a similar age, but the more time he spent with him, the more he felt their personalities didn't mesh. Even now, wasn't he laughing as if to say, "Why can't you do something this easy?"
"The owner of this warehouse is a stubborn man, so it won't be easy."
"Is that so?"
Look at that—a subtle smile that said, "That might be true for you, but not for me." Carnegie boasted that he would resolve it within fifteen days, and Rockefeller prepared to report that if he failed, the recruitment would be off the table.
But exactly one week later, Carnegie had fulfilled his boast and definitively completed the acquisition contract for the grain warehouse.
Rockefeller, who had watched the process from the sidelines, couldn't hide his astonishment.
"Mr. Rockefeller, you're good at everything else, but should I say you're a bit rigid? Or perhaps too upright? You need to do these things more efficiently."
Get a taste of the 19th-century work methods honed in the railroad industry.
Carnegie’s "efficient" acquisition work was carried out through a place called the Pinkerton Detective Agency in Chicago, which he introduced as being very good at their jobs. On the first day, dozens of rats of unknown origin appeared in the warehouse and began gnawing on grain sacks. On the second day, the rope of the largest pulley used to lift grain sacks "accidentally" snapped. On the third day, the wheel of a carriage entering the warehouse was "unfortunately" smashed to pieces.
The warehouse owner tore his hair out at the string of bad luck, but he was still holding on. The real disaster struck on the fourth day. Pinkerton detectives infiltrated the warehouse disguised as dockworkers. Two of them deliberately bumped shoulders and began to pick a fight.
"Damn it, can't you watch where you're going, you Irish hick!"
"What did you say? You Scottish shepherd bastard!"
The argument instantly escalated into a fistfight, and soon other detectives nearby joined in, spreading into a massive brawl. They used flour sacks as weapons, bashing each other's heads and smashing everything in sight.
"Aaaargh! My eyes!"
"Gah! I can't breathe!"
"Just smash everything!"
Bang! Bang!
Flour sacks burst, and the interior of the warehouse was filled with white dust. With the surrounding fences destroyed and countless people brawling every day, the warehouse owner screamed, clutching his head.
"Stop! Stop it right now, you crazy bastards!"
It was then that Carnegie approached the warehouse owner.
"My, my. Sir. I heard there were many problems at your place of business, but I didn't know it was to this extent."
Carnegie placed a hand on the shoulder of the shell-shocked warehouse owner.
"It seems this warehouse is beyond what you can handle anymore. Let me relieve you of your 'pain.' I will acquire this headache at the exact price Mr. Rockefeller proposed last time."
"Y-you... isn't this your doing?"
"Pardon? How could that be? Do you have any proof?"
"W-well, that's..."
"If you make such baseless accusations, I will have to withdraw my offer. But looking at the current state of things, I'm afraid the unfortunate accidents happening around this warehouse might only increase starting tomorrow."
The warehouse owner eventually handed over the entire warehouse area to Carnegie at the price Rockefeller had originally proposed and fled to another region as if running for his life.
"Well, Mr. Rockefeller. What do you think? Isn't it clean and efficient?"
"...The warehouse is a complete mess."
"But it was fast, wasn't it?"
"............"
"Swift, accurate, certain. Those are the three values I, Carnegie, can promise our new investor."
Rockefeller stared blankly at the warehouse site, which now had a new owner, and let out a hollow laugh.
Mr. Sett. I don't understand this guy.