Although I was living in the nineteenth century now, there were moments when fragments of modern knowledge surfaced in my mind, creating a strange sense of dissonance with the world around me.
Stepping onto American soil gave me exactly that feeling.
In the twenty-first century, New York was the unquestioned center of global power—a symbol of towering skyscrapers and sprawling megacity life.
But in 1841, New York was still just a promising city in the midst of its growth.
Instead of forests of steel and glass, the skyline consisted mostly of modest five-story buildings, rising one after another across the streets. Somehow the scene felt oddly charming.
The city's population, I'd heard, was still only around three hundred thousand.
It was a vivid reminder that the United States itself was still a nation in development.
The American reaction to news of my visit made that fact even clearer.
Truth be told, American sentiment toward Britain could hardly be called warm.
Their war of independence had taken place less than seventy years ago.
And only thirty years earlier, the two nations had fought another substantial war.
Under those circumstances, it would almost have been stranger if Americans regarded Britain with affection.
Yet the British Empire was now unquestionably the most powerful nation in the world.
Its recent victory over the Qing Empire had demonstrated that beyond doubt.
Moreover, Britain and the United States were already deeply intertwined economically. Severing those ties would be nearly impossible for either side.
The relationship was complicated.
America found Britain irritating—an old rival that might spark another war at any moment.
At the same time, Britain was frighteningly strong.
And if Americans wanted to profit economically, they had little choice but to remain on good terms.
Because of that delicate balance, diplomacy with Britain was widely considered one of the most difficult tasks in American politics.
The way they treated me made that quite obvious.
After all, it was none other than Secretary of State Daniel Webster himself who had traveled from Washington, D.C. to New York, accompanied by an impressive entourage.
"Welcome to the United States," Webster said warmly as he greeted me. "It is truly a pleasure to receive you, Minister."
"I didn't expect you to come all the way to New York," I replied. "Thank you for the generous welcome."
"Washington is practically next door to New York," Webster said with a smile. "And when the youngest minister in the British Empire visits, it would hardly be proper for us to sit comfortably in the capital and wait. Now then—shall we begin our journey? Everything has been prepared to escort you to Washington in comfort."
His words sounded courteous enough.
But this was still an era before a direct railway connected New York to Washington.
Travel required switching lines repeatedly—New York to Philadelphia, Philadelphia to Baltimore, and so on.
If anything, Webster had likely preferred it this way.
He had reserved an entire train carriage exclusively for us.
Seated across from me, he studied my face with a friendly smile.
"You must be tired after such a long journey. We've prepared water, beer, and wine—anything you might like."
"Beer does sound tempting," I admitted, "but as we're still engaged in official business, water will suffice."
"Diligent, just as the rumors say," Webster chuckled. "Before your arrival, I spoke at length with Congressman Adams, who belongs to my party. I wished to understand how best to receive you. He praised you endlessly."
"That's embarrassing," I said with a faint smile. "I suspect Congressman Adams is simply being generous toward someone much younger than himself."
I could easily guess what Adams had told him.
The current president and John Quincy Adams might technically belong to the same political camp, but their views differed dramatically.
Especially on the issue Adams championed most fiercely—
slavery.
If anything, Adams had probably exaggerated my reputation deliberately, hoping to stir trouble.
Webster nodded thoughtfully.
"Congressman Adams said that your political ideals align with his own, and that you might become a good friend to the Whig Party. Most importantly, he described you as a moderate who values peace."
"That part is true," I replied. "I believe every politician should pursue peace."
"Then I assume that includes peace between the British Empire—Canada in particular—and the United States?"
"Of course. That's precisely why I've come."
Webster hesitated.
"There is… one matter the president wished me to emphasize."
He paused, glancing slowly around the carriage.
There was obviously no one nearby to overhear us.
The gesture was pure theater.
The man could probably have succeeded as an actor.
"The president is concerned," Webster said carefully, "that certain members of Congress—Congressman Adams among them—might attempt to use you to advance their own political agendas. As you know, several controversial issues are currently under debate."
"Ah," I said quietly. "I understand what you mean."
So that was why he had arranged this private conversation.
President John Tyler, a passionate defender of slavery, had every reason to worry.
Webster continued in a measured tone.
"Frankly, it's inappropriate to make such a request of a foreign minister. I would never have done so if the president had not asked personally. However… it seemed to me that this could also become a matter of national dignity."
"Dignity?" I asked.
"Imagine it," Webster said. "Members of Congress using a foreign minister as a tool to pursue their own political goals. It would reflect poorly on the United States. I wished to warn you in advance."
Impressive.
This was why the man served as Secretary of State.
He had mastered the art of saying something without saying it directly.
In simple terms, his message was clear:
If American politicians raised the slavery issue during my visit—
I should keep my mouth shut.
Those wicked politicians might try to manipulate the innocent British minister for their own purposes.
And if I didn't want to become their pawn, I should refuse to engage.
Naturally, this advice was presented as being for my benefit rather than the president's.
"Please don't worry," I said calmly. "Whatever my personal beliefs may be, the British Empire fully recognizes the United States as an independent nation. It would be inappropriate for me to comment on sensitive domestic matters. Even if someone asked, I couldn't possibly do so."
Webster smiled with visible relief.
"I appreciate your understanding. The president will be deeply moved by your friendship."
"Then I hope our talks proceed smoothly," I said lightly. "After all, the most important thing in diplomacy is peace. Peace above all."
Now I knew exactly where Tyler and Webster stood.
But I wasn't foolish enough to cause trouble in a foreign country.
True, I had certain… intentions.
But I had no plans to create any problems personally.
And after all—
I had just promised that I would remain silent if members of Congress raised the issue.
That promise was absolutely sincere.
I would quietly attend meetings and return home without incident.
I would, at least.
In Springfield, Illinois, a law office was steadily gaining a reputation for excellence.
Thanks to its hardworking and capable attorneys, the firm's name had begun to spread throughout the region.
One of its partners was a tall young lawyer who had also taken his first steps into politics.
Calling him a "rising star" might have been generous.
He had won an election once several years earlier—but since then he had tasted defeat repeatedly.
Still, the man refused to give up.
Some people called him a foolish dreamer chasing impossible ambitions.
He disagreed.
"Even defeat," he once said, "can serve as a bridge to success if it spreads one's name among the public."
His repeated losses were not the result of stubbornness or recklessness.
He had a plan.
And he believed he was climbing toward his goal one step at a time.
Many people failed to see it.
But that hardly bothered him.
If anything, their ignorance would only make his eventual success shine brighter.
Still…
He would be lying if he claimed it never weighed on his mind.
To increase his recognition, he needed greater visibility.
Visibility required reputation.
Reputation required money.
Unless some unimaginably wealthy benefactor appeared, the only option was to climb slowly, step by step.
Some mocked him.
How could a man who kept losing elections claim to be climbing anywhere?
But such critics misunderstood politics entirely.
For established giants competing for the presidency, victory or defeat might be everything.
For young politicians just entering public life, something else mattered even more.
And this man understood that better than most.
"Hello? Is anyone here?"
"Yes, come in," he replied, rising from his desk. "How can I help you? Are you here regarding a legal matter?"
The man standing in the doorway wore a black coat.
Many clients were startled upon meeting him for the first time—the lawyer's towering height of over six feet made quite an impression.
But this visitor showed no sign of hesitation.
"Are you Abraham Lincoln, the attorney?"
Lincoln nodded calmly.
"Yes, that's correct. May I ask if you've come to retain my services?"
"A case… well, you might say that," the man said with a faint smile. "But in truth, we came to invite you to help transform the politics of this nation."
Lincoln frowned slightly.
"If this is some sort of unusual proposal, I'm afraid I must decline. I have a trial to prepare for."
"Nothing like that," the man said. "Why not look at this first?"
He handed Lincoln a card.
Lincoln's eyes sharpened as he read it.
National Black Liberation AssociationPresident — James
"The National Black Liberation Association?" Lincoln said slowly. "I've never heard of such an organization."
"That's understandable," the man replied. "We were founded recently. However, the politicians we support already hold considerable influence. For instance—Congressman John Quincy Adams."
"Adams?"
Lincoln's eyebrows rose.
Most northern states had already abolished slavery.
The existence of such an organization wasn't entirely surprising.
But a newly formed group claiming to support major Whig politicians?
That was suspicious.
"Your skepticism is natural," James said. "In truth, the association's name is largely a protective disguise. Supporting abolition openly can still be dangerous in this country. Many of the businessmen who fund us prefer to remain anonymous."
"That sounds plausible," Lincoln admitted. "But why would businesses support such a cause?"
"For many reasons," James replied smoothly. "Economic, political, moral… they all play a role. But the most important reason is economic. Many industrialists believe that clinging to slavery—a relic of a past era—will only hinder America's growth in the coming age of industry."
He handed Lincoln a sheet of paper.
"This is a list of companies supporting our association. You're welcome to verify it yourself—but please keep it confidential. If you mention your name, they will confirm it."
Lincoln scanned the list.
"Baldwin Locomotive Works… coal companies… iron mining firms… construction companies… even a detective agency?"
He looked up sharply.
"You're telling me corporations of this scale are serious about Black liberation?"
James shrugged.
"Not entirely. Most of them simply provide funding and leave the work to us."
Lincoln fell silent.
If the man was telling the truth…
Then this was more than just a curious organization.
It was a sign that the times themselves might be changing.
"So," Lincoln said at last, "if I were to work with you, what exactly would you expect from me?"
He leaned forward.
"I believe slavery must eventually be abolished—not only for moral reasons but for the national interest. However, the South cannot be ignored. They must be given time to prepare. Emancipation must proceed gradually."
He watched James closely.
"Would that position align with your organization's principles?"
"Of course," James replied immediately.
"Neither we nor our supporters desire chaos in this country. We earn our wealth here and live well because of it—why would we want the nation to fall into turmoil? We simply hope that capable and principled men like you will rise to the highest offices and govern according to your convictions."
He placed a document on the desk.
"We are prepared to invest generously in that future. As a lawyer, you'll recognize immediately that the contract terms are quite favorable."
The opportunity had appeared suddenly—and it was undeniably suspicious.
Yet perhaps…
Perhaps it was simply the first fruit of the efforts he had spent years cultivating.
Lincoln had no intention of trusting these strangers immediately.
But if even part of what they claimed was true—
Then the opportunity could not be ignored.
And so Abraham Lincoln resolved to investigate.
He would discover who these people truly were.
And whether those powerful corporations were really standing behind them.