1860s American Tycoon Chapter 278 278: D.C

Compared to the savage clamor of New York, filled with the sll of coal smoke and the clanging of steel, this nation's political center seed far more stifling and hypocritical.

Inside the white neoclassical buildings lining the streets, dirty exchanges of interests were carried out every day.

A high-end private club beside Pennsylvania Avenue.

It was not open to the public; only congressn and top power brokers carrying specific letters of recomndation could enter.

In a secluded private room on the second floor, the air was thick with the heavy smoke of Havana cigars and the pungent scent of Bourbon whiskey.

Samuel Taft, a senior Senator from the Democratic Party representing Georgia, was irritably tugging at his tie.

He slamd a copy of that day's Washington Post onto the mahogany round table in front of him.

The front page of the newspaper featured a huge sketch of President Grant delivering a speech at a Philadelphia train station.

Beside it was a thoughtfully included, eye-catching headline: "The Cornerstone of Arica: Public Servant Retirent Fund Bill Officially Submitted to Congress."

"To hell with it! This is nothing short of blatant vote-buying!" Samuel slamd the table, making the glasses on it clatter.

Sitting opposite him was Carter Black, a Democratic Party representative from New York.

Carter appeared much calr than Samuel; he leisurely picked up his glass and took a small sip.

"Calm down, Samuel. Even if you smash the table in this private room, you won't change the voting direction of those low-level clerks outside."

Carter's tone carried the cynicism typical of a politician.

"You have to admit, this move by President Grant was beautifully played. Or rather, the 'New King of New York' standing behind him has a brain that works faster than all of ours."

"Beautiful? This is robbing the treasury to fill the private vault of that man nad Argyle!"

Samuel paced back and forth in the private room like an enraged bull.

"I just went to the Departnt of the Treasury this morning. Do you know what I saw? Those low-level accountants who usually don't even look in the eye were all talking about how great President Grant is today."

"They think President Grant is a saint sent by God to save their retirent years. These idiots don't even know that the salary deducted from them every month will flow from the fund into the ledgers of the Imperial Bank to buy shares in his company!"

In the corner of the private room, the man who had remained silent all this ti chuckled softly.

This man was nad Sean.

He held no political title and was extrely low-key in the social circles of Washington.

Yet, he always managed to appear in various critical closed-door etings.

No one knew who he actually worked for, only that he held an incredibly vast network of resources in his hands.

Sean walked out of the shadows and went to the round table to pour himself a glass of water.

"Senator, the grassroots voters don't care whose vault the money ends up in. They only see the promissory note printed with the promise of a pension."

Sean pulled out a chair and sat down, his gaze sweeping over the Democratic Party heavyweights present.

"Gentlen. I took the liberty of inviting you to this gathering today, not to listen to your complaints about the newspaper reports. But to give you a reminder."

Sean crossed his hands on the table.

"The current speaking tour of President Grant is extrely successful. Those federal public servants who were originally swing voters are now gradually becoming his most die-hard voting base. Add to that the blind worship of Northern veterans. If the Democratic Party continues as it is now, only making irrelevant complaints in Congress without taking substantive obstructionist action..."

Sean paused, his tone revealing disappointnt.

"I assure you. Once President Grant succeeds in his reelection, this will not just be a matter of the next four years."

"The Imperial Bank of Argyle will completely bind the treasury of Arica, and the railways and military industry of the Argyle Family will form an absolute monopoly in this country. To repay the financial support from New York, President Grant will also fill every vacant federal position with more mbers of the Republican Party."

Sean stared at Samuel.

"By then, things won't just be difficult for the Democratic Party; you will be completely marginalized. Not only for the next term, but even for the four or five presidential elections after that, there will be no place for Democrats in The White House. You will face a political winter lasting at least twenty years. Your base in the South will be crushed by the capital of the Argyle Family until not even a scrap remains."

These words were like a basin of ice water poured directly over everyone present.

Samuel stopped pacing.

His flushed face beca sowhat distorted due to an extre sense of crisis.

He knew Sean was not fear-mongering.

The Republican Party already held an advantage after the Civil War; if they were allowed to get this "capital plus welfare" vote-getting machine running, the Democratic Party might really be swept into the dustbin of history.

"Then what do you suggest we do?"

Samuel walked quickly back to the table, bracing his hands on the surface.

"We don't have enough seats in Congress to stop the passage of that retirent fund bill. The newspapers are also completely under the control of that News dia Company of Argyle; even our channels to voice our opinions have been blocked!"

Carter put down his glass, his brows knitted tightly.

"Mr. Sean. Since you ca to us and analyzed the situation so thoroughly, I assu you aren't just here to peddle anxiety, right? Does the person behind you have so kind of plan?"

Carter tried to probe for Sean's background.

Sean smiled, not answering Carter's question directly.

"Of course there is a plan, but the prerequisite is that the Democratic Party must first unify its thinking. You cannot continue to be this scattered. So want to fight President Grant head-on, while others are thinking of compromise. If even your party leaders are still wavering, any outside help will just be money down the drain."

Just as Sean finished speaking.

The door to the private room was pushed open from the outside.

An elderly man with a slightly chubby build and a neat handlebar mustache walked in.

Although his pace was not fast, every step carried the steadiness of soone seasoned by the political arena.

In the corridors of Washington, everyone called him chairman Hendricks.

He was currently the core leader of the Democratic National Committee and the party helmsman who could truly make the final decisions.

Hendricks took off his coat, handed it to the attendant behind him, and then waved his hand to signal the attendant to leave and close the door.

"I heard Samuel's voice from outside the door just now."

Hendricks walked to the table, picked up that copy of the Washington Post, took a glance at it, and then threw it into the trash can beside him quite casually.

He pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat down, his gaze finally landing on Samuel.

"What? Scared out of your wits by a few newspapers and the cheers of a few old postn? In such a hurry to go and fight President Grant to the death?"

The atmosphere in the private box beca subtly oppressive due to the arrival of Hendricks.

Senator Samuel was clearly extrely dissatisfied with the chairman's casual attitude.

He pulled back his chair, sat down, leaned forward, and made no effort to hide his agitation.

"Please, Mr. Chairman, this isn't a matter of a few newspapers. This is a matter of our foundation!"

"Grant is using New York money to buy off the votes of those federal clerks. If we can't stir up a storm before this year's general election and tear off the hypocritical mask of that retirent fund bill, we'll just have to watch helplessly as he continues to stay in The White House!"

Carter also chid in from the side.

"Yes, Mr. Chairman. We must initiate a full impeachnt in Congress against the cabinet's corruption. We can latch onto the scandal of Grant's unlucky brother-in-law smuggling goods at the New York Customs House. We must muddy the waters; we absolutely cannot let them vote in comfort."

Hendricks listened quietly to their impatient remarks.

He picked up the cigar cutter on the table, leisurely cut the tip of his cigar, and then struck a match.

After taking a deep drag, he exhaled a thick cloud of smoke.

"Are you finished?"

Hendricks looked at them, his eyes revealing the shrewdness and exhaustion of soone who had been grinding in the political arena for forty years.

"Impeachnt? Exposing corruption? Tearing off masks?"

Hendricks let out a cold laugh.

"You politicians who have been sitting in Capitol Hill for too long, have you forgotten what the streets outside even look like?"

He pointed out the window with the hand holding his cigar.

"Go look at the streets outside! Go to the factories in Detroit, go look at the blast furnaces in Pittsburgh!"

Hendricks's speaking speed suddenly increased.

"Do you think the people of the United States care if Grant's brother-in-law smuggled a few cases of French wine? And those low-level clerks, do they really care if the Argyle Family is behind that retirent fund?"

"No, they don't care at all!"

Hendricks's hand slamd heavily onto the table.

"They only care about one thing! And that is whether, after getting off work every day, they can see a piece of roast at on their dinner table, whether they can afford a bag of flour!"

"And what is the reality now? The reality is that in the two years since Grant took office, although his cabinet is as rotten as a sewer, and although he is indeed a drunkard who only knows how to fight wars and nothing about economics, but..."

Hendricks stared at Samuel.

"He hit a good ti and reaped the dividends of the foundation for national unity that President Lincoln laid back then. What's even worse is that the industrial monster, Argyle, is standing behind him."

"Argyle is frantically building railroads, frantically building steel mills, and opening all kinds of factories. He is creating thousands upon thousands of jobs, and the entire economy of Arica is surging crazily under this brutal capital expansion!"

"The common people no longer face the threat of war. As long as they are willing to put in the effort, they can find work and put food on the table. That retirent fund gives the low-level civil servants a sense of hope for the future."

Hendricks leaned back in his chair, looking at these subordinates who had been blinded by a sense of crisis.

"At a ti like this... if the Democratic Party jumps out to attack Grant frantically, and frantically tries to stop those bills that bring jobs and benefits, do you know what we are in the eyes of the voters?"

Hendricks gave the answer, enunciating every word.

"We are the bastards who smash their rice bowls, the stumbling blocks who can't stand seeing the country improve."

The private box fell silent.

Even the mysterious lobbyist, Sean, who had been fanning the flas just a mont ago, now clamped his mouth shut.

He had to admit that this old leader of the Democratic Party had a terrifyingly precise grasp of the psychology of the grassroots voters.

"Then we just let it go?"

Samuel was like a deflated ball.

"Just watch him get re-elected? Watch the Republican Party continue to use money to buy people's hearts for the next six years?"

"Of course not just let it go. But politics is not a street brawl; it is the art of patience."

Hendricks flicked the ash off his cigar and began to lay out the long-term strategy for the Democratic Party.

"Rather than making an enemy of that bastard Grant right now and hitting the hardest stone, it would be better to go along with the Republican Party and just let him be re-elected."

Upon hearing this, Carter opened his mouth wide in surprise.

"Let him be re-elected? Mr. Chairman, then what is the Democratic Party doing in this election year? Going ho to farm?"

"Of course, we are conserving our strength."

A cunning look like that of an old fox appeared in Hendricks's eyes.

"This brutal expansion by Grant and Argyle is built on a foundation of crazy debt and exploitation. The current prosperity is only an appearance. As soon as the speed of expansion slows down a little, or the low-level workers can no longer bear that high-intensity exploitation, the contradictions will explode sooner or later."

"What we need to do now is not to intercept them when they are at their peak. It is to take a half-step back. We need to quietly integrate those groups that have been hard by the Republican Party's high-pressure policies—such as the small southern farrs squeezed by monopolies and the bankrupt independent factory owners in the Midwest—into our camp."

Hendricks gave clear instructions.

"We must wait. Wait until the public is completely fed up with this corrupt cabinet, wait until the crisis that is destined to co erupts. When that ti cos, we will launch a fatal counterattack. That will be the mont for the Democratic Party to return to The White House."

Samuel painfully scratched his hair.

"But Mr. Chairman, the election year is already here. Even if we know we can't win, we still have to do sothing, right? We can't just not send out a candidate and abstain, right? The party mbers below will curse us to death."

"Shit, of course we have to run. Normal campaigning activities must still take place. We have to maintain the presence of the Democratic Party sohow."

Hendricks's tone beca a bit more relaxed.

"Although everyone knows that we can't win this hand of cards right now, for so young people in the party, this is an excellent opportunity to show their faces. At the very least, they have to get familiar with the voters across Arica, right?"

"So..."

Hendricks tapped the table.

"The most important thing for the Democratic Party right now is not to attack Grant, but to conduct internal primary etings as soon as possible. Gather the representatives from each state and select a candidate from within our ranks who has a decent image, good eloquence, and whose loss won't look too ugly."

Upon hearing this, Carter's eyes darted around.

"Mr. Chairman. If that's the case, I'm willing to give it a try," Carter volunteered.

"I am preparing to run for governor in New York next year. If I can use the na of a presidential candidate to build a wave of reputation in newspapers across the country this year, even if I lose to Grant in the end, my chances in the local election in New York next year will be much greater."

Hendricks nodded with satisfaction.

This was the shrewdness of a politician.

Even on a stage destined for failure, one must squeeze out its last bit of political value.

"It's good to have ambition, Carter. This courage to not fear losing is worth encouraging. I will have the people in the party put your na on the primary list."

Hendricks's words had just finished.

Miller, the old committee mber who had been sitting at the very end of the table and was responsible for the financial scheduling of the Democratic Party, suddenly let out an extrely dry cough.

He opened the sowhat worn leather ledger in front of him.

"Mr. Chairman, gentlen. Before everyone discusses who should go to the stages across the country to show their faces, I think I must remind everyone of an extrely realistic problem."

Old Miller pushed up the reading glasses on the bridge of his nose, his expression extrely ugly.

"Even a campaign that is destined to lose still requires hiring carriages, renting venues, and buying space in newspapers."

Old Miller raised his head and looked at everyone present.

"Gentlen, I would like to ask, where is the money for our campaign coming from?"