Chapter II
ACT II
Prologue
March 3rd, 1870,
Richmond, VA, Confederate States.
General Nathan Bedford Forrest, now President-Elect Forrest, rode his carriage to the inauguration. The weather was sunny, the air seasonably warm on this part of the continent. Forrest rode in his motorcade, opposite the outgoing President, General Wade Hampton III. Forrest had been promised his support in exchange for his public support of the nearly-former president, and in completing his ticket. It seemed only too good for Forrest, since he would accrue the title “Former Vice President” to his belt, when he made his new bid for the big office of the Confederate Grey House in November of 1869.
Of course, if Forrest had learned anything in his 48 years upon God’s Earth, taking care of himself and his siblings, making his way through Tennessee, and settling in Nashville with enough money to make his children Gentlemen and Ladies in this new Confederate Nation, it was that something that looked to good, generally was. And this was too.
What was too good to be true almost always was, without fault, too good to be true. This was a rule that was only made stronger with the few exceptions it boasted. And what was so bad about this office? It became obvious a few months into being sworn in; it was too damned boring! It wasn’t worth a bucket of hot piss, in the General’s opinion. But a deal was a deal, even with the devil.
And Wade Hampton was hardly a devil. A politician, with all the negative and positive connotations of that moniker? Sure! But a devil? Naw. He kept his part of the bargain, and backed Bedford Forrest in the next election, being confined to only one term. And with the opposing party’s backing, there wasn’t much opposition to the Confederate Patriot ticket of 1870. Only the hopped up Socialist Party of the CSA, run by a no name one term senator from Sequoyah named Milliard Grey.
Forrest took every state excepting the aforementioned one, newly admitted as that state. The Indian chieftains had proposed statehood if given to be an autonomous collective or “Commonwealth”. In Richmond, it was termed derisively as the “Commonwealth of Indians”, but it was quickly accepted by Hampton. Some people said Hampton had a queer foresight into the future, but all Forrest saw was political appeasing. There was nothing worth having in the former Indian Territory that the Confederate Government couldn’t do in its treaties, was there? Not as blamed far as Forrest could see. The Gov’t had permission to explore the land, map and chart it. This was given to the US in the years since Jackson’s Trail of Tears and had been passed through the legislature when the rest of the treaties were.
This seemed as much as an oversight than anything. The treaties were accepted when the Indian Territory seceded, and among them were the Government’s right to move troops through the borders and lands, as long as that land, territory and all, belonged to the Five Tribes. So, the papers were signed. Forrest saw nothing worth having west of the Boston Mountain range, west of the Jewel of the South and the Ozarks. But it was there, thanks to Hampton.
Forrest scoffed but waved his hand in the gesture of “Let it be.” when his newly elected Veep questioned him. Hampton said,
“Leave him be, Mister Longstreet. I reckon he’s a little chilled at the thought of this inauguration. It happens amongst incoming Presidents. So I was assured by Mister Davis, at any rate.”
Forrest looked from the window of the carriage towards Wade Hampton. He was not one to mix words, and his rustic Tennessee accent was not to be mistook, nor to be laughed at.
He stared into Hampton’s eyes and spoke calmly, but his grey eyes, so often called “Bedeviled” by military and political opponents all the same burned against the steely colour,
“You sir, are mistaken,” He said. He spoke with the air of a gentleman, but his accent gave him away as a westerner. To the man from the Palmetto State, he had no doubt he appeared as little more than a country bumpkin, hopped up on a fortunate find, blessed by providence. To himself and those from his country, his “ilk” as they were called, he was the start of a new generation of gentleman, western gentlemen and gentry.
Hampton blinked twice; he was not used to being corrected, much less by a man still technically subordinate to him,
“Indeed you are,” Said Longstreet, then stopped. Even James Peter Longstreet was not much for getting on the mean side of Bedford Forrest, and Longstreet was not a man to flinch. But that was why he had chosen to fill out the ticket for the man, rather than run against him.
Longstreet was going to run on the Whig ticket, but with Hampton backing Forrest, he wouldn’t be capable of putting up much of a defense, even with the nomination. And that’s how the gentleman from Tennessee fought; on the offense. Always a horse ahead. So Longstreet assented to having his people talk to Forrest’s. And thus, Forrest was elected to the Presidency, Longstreet as Veep, and only to the opposition to the socialists. It was not hard to fight against them.
Forrest continued, after the interruption. He was slightly miffed, but had more than learned to take each thing calmly, if not yet gracefully,
“You are mistook. I do not so easily scare. Ask the Yankees who fought in the blue, or better than that, ask the men who fought in the grey under my command. I do not flinch. It were only a bit of a laugh.” He said, and smirked, but only a little. He used the word mistook in place of the more appropriate ‘mistaken’ and pronounce the word ‘fought’ as ‘fit’.
He’d also learned to turn such expressions inward; it wasn’t possible to expel them from his character entirely. He was, after all, Devil Forrest, the general from Tennessee responsible for the massacre of Fort Pillow in 1862. He was recorded (unofficially) as having said that, “Any nigger that has raised his arms with a rifle in his hands went down with them crossed over his chest in a coffin, or more likely without one, that day.”.
Hampton, almost equal in his inability to scare, paled a bit and replaced Forrest’s eyes for those that stared out the window. He now doubted the intelligence of letting this man replace him. But he had to have faith in Congress and the Confederate House of Representatives that they would exercise their ability to expel him via impeachment if need be. He himself was surprised that the Yankee President, former General US Grant had not had the same happen to him. He was more surprised he’d been reelected. But it seemed that the Yankees needed to pick out a hero, without the presence of any real ones.
Forrest stepped out of the carriage when it stopped at the steps of the Virginia Capitol. Though construction had started at the end of the Federal-Confederate war of 1868 for a new CS Capitol Building, it would not be done for another couple dozen months. He walked up the steps to be sworn in by Confederate Chief Justice, Judah P. Benjamin. Forrest had no particular disdain for people of the Hebrew faith. It seems he had reserved that for the race of more darkened men in complexion, those his personal man of faith deemed “the Sons of Ham”. He was not much mistaken for socially progressive, even amongst his own supporters. But he was one hell of a general, and it was hoped he would be one hell of a commander in the office.
He took his oath after the departing president and stood before the people. When Pete Longstreet was done taking his vows, Forrest stood before a cheering throng of at least 15,000 southern citizens. He grinned at them and pistoned his arms forward in a gesture of acknowledgment. They cheered loudly. He grinned wider. Yes! This was what he’d fought for alright! Fought the men and generals in blue and his own political rivals years later. He’d fought to found a free nation for his fellow men, and women. He saw plenty of them in the crowd, and children too! Yes, children that would leave in a free nation, with the yolk of the Yankee thrown from their shoulders. Southern Planters and Farmers, agrarians and soldiers, not to be ruled by a “race of pasty faced mechanics”.
He spoke in a loud, booming voice. Every man, and there were plenty, who served in Forrest’s 3rd Tennessee Cavalry stood in attention at this. Some laughed at themselves while slacking in stance, but plenty stayed that way for the speech,
“My fellow Americans, I am pleased to accept the yolk of leadership amongst you,” He said. He had elected to wear to his war medals and awards upon his chest. He was a soldier, in his mind. Almost like Julius Caesar had been. But Forrest made no pretenses of stepping over the Rubicon. He would not attempt to overthrow the duly elected president’s term after his own. He HAD fought for the freedom of his fellow man. Slaves aside, as they always went in Forrest’s mind.
“I will lead you duly and righteously! This I swear before an almighty God, and have sworn before our Chief Justice. I fought for almost 3 years to free us from the Yankees, and it appears to me I came out more than a horse ahead, don’t it to you?” Forrest was so nearly like the other man from Tennessee to come to the highest office, and this fact escaped no one. He had leaped past the blue bloods of the CSA to ascend to this most august office.
“I promise to you all, that I shall indeed continue our path of rightful vengeance against the Yankees. I ask only that they return what they owe to the Confederate States; Missouri, that abortion called West Virginia, and Maryland. That is all I ask. It ain’t too much, is it? We fought ‘em,” This came out ‘We fit em’ “for the freedom of the southern white race. And we won! Didn’t we...?” He asked this curiously, as if someone had disputed it, and he was wondering if he’d forgotten something. All the while he was gesticulating, motioning towards the crowd and moving in linear fashion, with his speech. He held his left ear out a bit, and waited. The crowd was silent for a moment, and then a loud cheer erupted, “Yes!” “Hell yes!” “Fuck yes!”. He grinned and continued when quiet crept in,
“Yes, we did. But they still hold on to Missouri, the western counties of Virginia and all of Maryland. Those people voted to secede and much like Kentucky, the USA held on to em! Ain’t it right to have em?!” They cheered yes. He grinned, and began to wrap it up. He didn’t mention that both Kentucky and Missouri had only voted to secede by a nominal portion of their legislature and had been contested- and lost- in the war.
“In closing, my fellow Confederates, I swear to recover these territories! Thank you for entrusting of me. I shall bring our country, under an all merciful God, into the 1870’s with fury, and respective valour.” He bowed a little to the overwhelming cheers, tears in his eyes. Yes, he had fought. And he’d won. And to the strong conquerors went the loser’s rich spoils. Perhaps not too much different from the last two men in this office, did Bedford Forrest think; “I am the man. This is my hour.”
