The Rehabilitation Graduates (2)
By the time Breckinridge was preparing for the upcoming primary, confident in his victory, the leading Republican candidates who would clash with him in the general election were also making their final preparations in their own ways.
In New York, the air in William H. Seward’s office was already warm with the feeling of triumph.
“Breckinridge will be the one.”
He set down the latest intelligence report from Virginia, unable to hide a satisfied smile.
He was the perfect opponent to guarantee his own victory.
A madman blinded by his own convictions, running wild. Was there any rival who could make him shine brighter than this?
— An Inevitable Conflict
Those words he had uttered in a speech just a while ago were the very spirit of the age, reflecting the current reality. Every voter in the North already knew that he alone was the one to defend the “nobler law” against the barbaric rampage of the South.
Weed, his aide and campaign strategist, carefully set down his teacup.
“But couldn’t Douglas become a variable?”
“Stephen Douglas? Hah.”
Seward scoffed.
“He is already finished. He lost the trust of the South with the Kansas-Nebraska Act and the debates during the Will repatriation trial, and he hasn’t gained the full support of the North, either. The heart of the Democratic Party is now Breckinridge. As long as they continue to run wild like that, the North has no choice but to unite.”
His eyes were already fixed on the White House.
“Steel against steel. We will not retreat a single inch. This cancer called slavery must be cut out; it is not a subject for compromise. Defeating Breckinridge is merely a procedure of following the established order of things.”
At the same time, at the Governor’s mansion in Ohio.
Salmon P. Chase, mentioned as Seward’s strongest rival, paced his office anxiously, muttering incessantly.
“If a one-on-one dynamic forms with Seward, will I be at a slight disadvantage...?”
He was very good at objectifying what he lacked. Even now, it felt as if the criticisms directed at him were ringing in his ears like auditory hallucinations.
‘Compromiser.’
‘The man who got in bed with the Democrats.’
Stupid fools.
He clicked his tongue softly.
It was true that he had joined hands with the Democrats to pass a few policies so far. Wasn’t that what politics was all about?
But because of that very weakness, Chase could not brandish the purity of the Republican Party as a weapon like Seward could. The hardliners within the party must surely be looking at him with suspicious eyes.
...No, wait.
He stopped walking.
Perhaps. He might be able to use this as a weapon.
He muttered as if persuading the invisible delegates.
“Look. The Democratic Party is splitting right now. What if Douglas comes out as the Northern candidate? Who can bring in those Northern Democratic votes? Seward’s arrogant hardline stance?”
A calculating light flashed in his eyes.
“No, it’s me. I can talk to them. I am that very bridge. If Seward intends to burn everything down, I can unite all the moderates of the North and win.”
He decided to package his greatest weakness as his most powerful weapon. If he did this, he had a chance.
Chase and Seward were busy weaving schemes to defeat one another.
And in Springfield, Illinois.
Contrary to the two leading candidates, a copy of Seward’s speech and a report on Chase’s Ohio trends lay side-by-side on Abraham Lincoln’s desk.
He stroked his beard slowly and let out a long sigh.
“Both of them are wrong.”
Seward was only looking at Breckinridge. If he kept that up, it would be impossible to win over the public sentiment of the central states like Pennsylvania and Indiana.
Chase was just swinging at air. Douglas was coming out as a candidate, so how could he steal his supporters? That was the same as saying he would steal fish from the water and make them live on land.
The cold, analytical insight James had sent him a while ago—different from the madness of the South—flashed through his mind.
‘Breckinridge is merely a symbol of the South; in terms of sheer numbers, the North is more populous. They will never be able to abandon Douglas. The Democratic Party will split.’
Lincoln nodded.
His own thoughts were similar. No matter how loudly they made noise, this was the reality in the end. The Democratic primary would likely end in Douglas’s victory, or it would likely head toward catastrophe in the process. Either way, Seward’s hardline stance and Chase’s clumsy collusion were not the answer.
He looked out at the muddy road outside the window.
What the North—no, what this Union—wanted right now was not an agitator. Nor was it a compromiser without principles.
It was someone who could hold on tightly so that the roof shared by everyone would not collapse in this storm. At least half of the Republican Party must surely want such a leader.
Lincoln picked up his old pen and revised the draft of his speech.
“Avoid division, uphold principles.”
That was the path he had to take at the Chicago National Convention. It was the path to true integration that neither Seward nor Chase could offer. Even if the other side went to extremes, or even if they bent their knees saying that politics was originally like that, he would thoroughly carry out his convictions.
Higher and firmer than anyone else.
The “defeat specialist” who had never broken despite numerous election losses had, at some point, become a politician more steadfast than anyone else in the Republican Party.
Since the Republican and Democratic parties had entered their primary preparations, I didn’t have much time left either.
The South was blatantly taking Breckinridge’s side and wanted him to be elected, but once the results actually came out, they would surely foam at the mouth and struggle in desperation. There was no need to rush, but the time for being relaxed had long since passed.
And because of this political climate, I was even more...
“Mr. Sett, this is the Natchez Telegraph. You said that anyone could become like Mr. Sett if they only learned the methods—is that true?”
“Of course. It would require highly advanced education and insight, but anyone could reach a level similar to mine.”
“So, you’ve finally decided to share that incredible secret? Surely it won’t be free, right?”
“I’m not a philanthropist, either. However, I have no intention of profiteering to that extent.”
I had started releasing the rehabilitation center students across the South, but simply sending them out wasn’t enough. No matter how highly educated they were, it had only been a little over a year, and there was a limit to what one person could accomplish alone.
If that was the case, the intelligence had to be top-notch, but even for me, there was a limit to collecting information on planters and farms scattered all over the South without getting caught. If I were caught collecting it secretly, there would definitely be talk, so I couldn’t afford to take any more risks than this.
So what should I do? If I couldn’t collect it, I just had to make them offer it up.
“First, I intend to conduct training for those who trusted me and entrusted their slaves to me. I will accumulate data that way and develop a profitable business later.”
“Oh, I see. Then hundreds of slave masters will be born in the South. I hope that day comes quickly.”
“Yes. I will work hard as well.”
The planters of the South now trusted me absolutely in the field of slave training, to the point where they would believe me even if I said I had a hypnosis app that could brainwash Black people. Since I was saying I had the intention of gradually revealing the secrets of raising slaves, it was only natural that they would lose their minds.
As I sent out advertisements through the Natchez newspapers, newspaper companies all over the South began to feature this as a major story.
“Mr. Sett! Please, teach me that secret!”
“Me! Please accept me. I’ll pay any amount of money!”
“Sett, in my opinion, such high-level lectures should be conducted for the legislators first. How about passing on the secrets to the planters after that?”
It was a chaotic mess that far exceeded my expectations. Planters, state legislators, federal congressmen—people came in droves without distinction, and even...
“Brother, would you be willing to share whether that method goes against the ways of God?”
I didn’t know what the churches intended to do by learning how to handle Black people, but even pastors came secretly to make requests to be accepted as students.
In the midst of that insane enthusiasm that had nothing to do with my intentions, I cut off all the requests and officially opened the course.
[There Are No Bad Slaves in the World].
Doesn’t the name alone give you the feeling that it would have a tremendous impact?
“No matter how rebellious a slave is, if the master knows the correct method, they can be reformed. Aren’t the graduates of our rehabilitation center proof of that?”
The one line from my interview in the newspaper was like pouring gasoline on a fire. Hadn’t I proven it? I had turned even the slaves who had tasted Northern water and were tainted by the Arrow of Freedom into gentle lambs. So, the hope that ‘my slaves’ could also be like that.
The competition to enter the Sett Rehabilitation Center was too fierce, but if the planter themselves learned my secrets, wouldn’t their own farm’s revenue and profits rise like a rocket?
“I’ll pay any tuition! Please, take me instead of my son!”
“Mr. Sett! My farm is definitely going to be John Brown’s next target! You must save me first!”
“I am truly sorry, but in order to be fair, the selection will be done blindly, without looking at names or status.”
I screamed with happiness amidst the pile of pouring applications.
Of course, I said that, but I had no intention of accepting just anyone.
“And to teach you all, I must also accurately understand your situations. A doctor cannot prescribe medicine without knowing the patient, can they?”
I distributed a ‘Request for Information’ under the name of ‘Course Application’.
Accurate maps of the farms. Major products. The number and placement of slaves. The tendencies of the overseers.
Just knowing roughly this much made it possible to find out the locations of food warehouses and armories. It was even possible to find out the most vulnerable security zones.
Under the pretext of ‘preliminary materials for customized education,’ they willingly paid money to offer up the information that would drive a knife into their own throats.
Wasn’t the basis of 21st-century consulting the securing of customer data, anyway?
It was perfect.
One day, while I was lost in ecstasy, drawing ‘vulnerability maps’ of the entire South.
“Master.”
Leo came to find me with a troubled expression.
“A guest has arrived, but they are not on the list. I tried to turn them away, but they insisted that they must see you.”
Another uninvited guest? It wasn’t exactly a new occurrence, as people like this came by several times a day.
As always, I had no choice but to say I was busy and apologize, asking them to return. Still, if they were too big of a figure, I had to take measures so as not to hurt their feelings, so I had to hear the basic information.
“Who is it?”
“They say they came from Arlington, Virginia. They inherited the Arlington farm from their father-in-law, and there is a will that says all slaves must be freed within five years. The problem is...”
Leo handed over the documents.
“A massive debt was inherited along with it. If the debt isn’t cleared, the farm will be lost, and the slaves will be sold off one by one, let alone being freed. It seems this person is trying to work the slaves hard within five years to clear the debt and free them.”
...That’s a troublesome story.
Working slaves hard to pay off a debt, with the goal being slave emancipation. It was a region that had nothing to do with my goals, and the story was complicated. There was no reason to waste time.
However.
“...Show them in.”
After seeing the documents Leo brought, I had no choice but to talk to this person.
A moment later, the office door opened, and a middle-aged man in a stiff military uniform walked in. He was a person characterized by deep, thoughtful eyes that felt like they contained agony and discipline, rather than the arrogance typical of Southern planters.
He bowed politely.
“It is a pleasure to meet the famous Mr. James Sett like this. Thank you for making the time.”
“Not at all.”
I set down the documents, greeted my guest with a polite smile, and welcomed him.
“A soldier who has devoted himself to the nation should naturally receive special treatment. It is an honor to meet you, Colonel Robert Lee.”
Robert Edward Lee. The greatest military commander the South had produced, and a Southern hero who had chilled the North’s spine several times during the Civil War.
I had clearly cast bait to catch a fish, so why had a whale been dragged in instead?
Well, anyway, it’s a big catch, right?