This Guilty Land: A Post-Civil War Timeline
- Thread starter treefreak32
- Start date
I haven't actually read that timeline, so hopefully I don't accidentally make it too similar.
Good point. The North and South of this TL both have a lot of divergence and evolution coming.
Thanks!
All will be revealed...
marktaha
Banned
So.am.I .Would like to know how negotiations not started until.September 1865 or how the South hung on.that long.
I've heard conflicting reports. Some say he wanted to centralize while others say he was very hands-off.
I probably overestimated how long it would take for the Union to get around to negotiating peace. That's on me.
Interlude: Born In The CSA
Interlude: Born In The CSA
Born in the CSA I
Born in the CSA I
May 24th, 1868. Providence, Rhode Island, United States of America
It was Sunday, to be exact, which is why Will Lawrence was not working. Will was a laborer at the port. Payment was poor, but Will needed what he could get if he were to survive in the white man’s world.
You see, Will Lawrence had been a slave only five years earlier.
On this particular day, Will sat comfortably on a park bench (or as comfortably as a black man could in the United States in the year 1868) with one of his few friends, a Mr. Elroy Foreman. A fellow laborer, Elroy was the only white man Will had ever met who treated him better than dirt. Elroy, a few years older than Will, read the newspaper aloud to Will. Will could not read, having never been taught, and Elroy was not the most compelling speaker, but this was their arrangement, and they liked it well enough.
“It says here that Colfax is the nominee for the GOP.”
“I know that. They decided that a number of days ago, remember?”
“Yes, Willie, I know, but that’s what it says.” With a laugh, Elroy said “I don’t decide what’s in the paper, I just read it.”
“It must be an old paper, from a few days ago or something” Will said. Elroy checked: it was.
“Yes, this is Friday’s paper.” After a moment, Elroy asked, “Do you vote?”
“Elroy, you must remember that I was-”
“Sorry! Terribly sorry, Willie!” They didn’t talk much about that time, or at least tried not to, but it did come up from time-to-time.
“To answer your question, no. I don’t see much point. It’s a contest to determine which o’ these white folks will tell us all what to do. I appreciate what the Republicans want to do for folks like me, but I don’t think much of this whole affair.”
“What affair?”
“America, Elroy.” There was a moment of silence, and Will couldn’t help but think of his sisters, brothers, cousins, still trapped in bondage. Men like his father, who’d been whipped ‘til his back looked like a mountain range. Women like his sister, concubine to some devilish white man. Did it matter if it was Colfax who won instead of Seymour? Would any man do anything to help the slaves? Lincoln might have tried, but that certainly hadn’t gone as planned.
“I’ll tell you this much, Willie,” Elroy interjected, interrupting Will’s unpleasant thoughts. “I’m voting for Colfax. Say what you want about the Republicans and Wade and all that, but Schuyler Colfax would never take no bribes from those railway men.”
Born in the CSA II
May 28th, 1869. Archer, Florida, Confederate States of America
They’d changed their names, crossed the seas, and tried their best to fit in. Phineas Hoffman, whose name had been Pinchas in the old world, sat with his wife and Doctor Fleming on the floor of their house. Hoffman was a tailor, and not a particularly good one. His wife was screaming loudly, and pushing their new baby out of her body. Phineas had sent his other children, Daniel and Sarah, to their Uncle’s house for the evening, so that the Hoffmans and Doctor Hilel could peacefully agonize over the birth.
Phineas and his wife, Rebecca, had travelled from Europe just after the war that tore this land in two. This was, in hindsight, a smart move. Jews in the German states had a target on their backs after that business with Bismarck.[1] They’d had Daniel soon after they arrived, and then Sarah. Phineas wondered what the children would become, how they would react with another member of their family. Daniel was quite quick for his age; he was only five years old, but could already read a little, and would watch birds and other animals around their home for hours at a time.
As Phineas pondered his children’s fates, his wife was more concerned with their new child, who was emerging from her. Phineas held her hand, and smiled, and told her it would all be alright. Doctor Hilel told her simply to push. Hilel was a clinical man, not one for niceties. Phineas imagined he’d be a good military surgeon, though Phineas had never been in the military himself.
Eventually, the baby came. It was a heavy little boy, shrieking and pink. Phineas looked down on the babe held tightly in his wife’s arms. He saw himself, as he had in Daniel. After a while, Phineas picked up the boy himself.
“What a little Shtarker! Just like his papa!”
It was as such that Joel Hoffman was welcomed into the world.
[1] Not organized pogroms or anything, but antisemitism certainly did increase in Prussia and friendly nations after Bismarck's death ITTL
I promise, these 'slice of life' segments are relevant.
Last edited:
Chapter 5: The Mission At This Moment
Chapter 5: The Mission At This Moment
I write these words to you now, my friends, from the great and illustrious halls of the Notre-Dame Basilica in Montreal, which I am visiting as of now. Just this morning, papers across British North America came bearing news of the successful negotiation of a union between the Maritime Provinces. New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and Prince Edward Island will unite in brotherhood, a nation within Britain’s expansive empire. It was not a declaration of independence as Washington’s ilk signed so many years past. Instead, it is a declaration of dependence; of dependence on one-another, of fraternity and friendship. While I do write these words in part as a congratulation towards these provinces, I also mean to draw attention to the lesson which can be drawn from Maritime Unity.
Many of us here to the west of Fredericton have not yet seen the tide which comes ever-closer. It is thought that we have no need for our own Union. After all, are we not already protected by the crown? Are we not content as the Province of Canada?
I would like to draw your attention to the recent border skirmishes by Yankee aggressors, the Fenians, who believed that senseless violence could further their cause. The Bible teaches us that violence is not always the best solution. Think of Matthew 26:52, alongside many of Christ's other teachings. While these attacks by our Southern neighbors were eventually repelled, think of the damage they have wrought. We laugh now at the once-United States’ so-called ‘manifest destiny’, but we have seen how easily their citizens will take up arms to invade our lands and take our nation prisoner. This is a situation in-which turning the other cheek will not suffice. While we may avoid the taking of an eye for an eye, we need to defend our lands as the Israelites of old defended theirs. We must do so as a nation, not simply as a province of Great Britain’s empire.
Fear not, for I do not call for rebellion. I have no stomach for such things, and would not seek secession as the government of Richmond did nearly a decade ago. No, I propose merely that we have status within this empire similar to that which our Eastern comrades now hold. Quebec and Ontario are united now, and will likely gain an autonomous status eventually. That, however, is not enough. If we are to create a new nation out of British North America, it must be one which grants status and citizenship to all of these lands’ inhabitants.
In the central and western areas of British North America, many men and women do not live the lives of civility we here take for granted. My upbringing in those lands would likely have been one deprived of agency within the British empire were it not for my opportunities in the Church. The Metis of Manitoba are Frenchmen just as the inhabitants of Quebec are. We share a language with you, and a continent with the English, to say nothing of the Indians, Negroes, and other Europeans also living here.
It seems to me inevitable that the crown lands of the West will one day join in arms with the inhabitants of Canada. I urge our leaders to consider those of their Christian brethren not blessed with riches, urbanity, or European heritage. If we are to survive and not fall as old Rome did, we must unite all of the godly and righteous men of this land, and not just the privileged few.
We, the people of this land, have slept for centuries, content to be protected by our kindly mother country. We must awaken and mature into a faithful but strong child. We have inherited a great deal from Britain, and we must cherish that inheritance. If all we have to give is our hearts, let us give it to unity. Let us give it to a Canadian nation, where all men can be equal. Like the fasces, we are stronger together. It may take time, for deeds are not accomplished in an hour, but I hope that we may achieve autonomy and national brotherhood.
Sincerely, The Lord’s Dutiful Servant, Deacon Louis Riel [1], February 20th, 1870
(Originally published as an editorial in the Le Canadien [2]. Translated to English by Professor Jean-Louis Lebris de Kérouac of McGill University, 1969.)*
[1] Riel had been in seminary school in Montreal IOTL, but left after the death of his father.
[2] This paper was, from what I can tell no longer being published at this time IOTL, and had not been for quite some time. ITTL, it has been revived.
Chapter 6: A Special Relationship
Chapter 6: A Special Relationship
January 6, 1871, Florence, The kingdom of Italy
George Perkins Marsh felt small in the presence of the man with whom he spoke. A proud son of the Republic though he was, even an American feels a strange sense of shrinking when he spoke to a King. The Ambassador had no logical reason to feel this way; he was an accomplished man, and Victor Emmanuel II was merely an aristocratic fop. It didn’t matter: Perkins Marsh was hopelessly in awe.
“His Excellency the President would be here personally if he could, your majesty,” Marsh spoke cautiously, “but he is unfortunately preoccupied at the moment.” He was fairly certain he was telling the truth, President Colfax felt very strongly about the meeting.
“I am sure we will meet at some point in the future.” the Italian monarch replied.
“Indeed, the President wants to assure you that he will visit when he has the chance.” There was currently intense internal strife within the United States government concerning the formal abolition of slavery, with it being feared that the few remaining slave states would attempt to secede. Pendleton's administration had pulled military forces placed in slave states like Maryland out, and Colfax, a fierce abolitionist though he was, thought the optics of sending military troops in to enforce his will may not be desired. Until this strife was over, the President knew he could not leave the United States to visit Italy of all places.
"That is well and good." The King seemed to be perhaps a little offended by Colfax's absence. Perkins Marsh chalked that up to aristocratic neediness. No one in the American government was thrilled that Italy was a monarchy. Colfax had written to Marsh that he had hoped Italy would become a republic, and was disappointed in their decision to create a monarchy. Everyone wished Garibaldi could have stepped in as President. Of course, Garibaldi was uninterested in political office, and was currently trying to find a war to fight.[1] Everyone also wished the USA had taken him up on his offer to lead Union forces. No use worrying about the past, or what might have been, Marsh thought. The Italians were a constitutional monarchy, and it wasn't like the Union had never befriended a monarchy before.
"The President most importantly wants me to tell you that he is thrilled with the Unification of Italy, that he hopes this nation becomes a model which others strive towards. After all, it was Rome which inspired so much of our Republic in the New World."
"The President hopes that our two nations may be comrades. He tells me, and I'm quoting directly here, that he hopes that this will be 'the start of a beautiful friendship'."
[1] Bismarck's death did not prevent a war with Austria, but it has prevented the Franco-Prussian war.
[2] Without the Franco-Prussian war, Italy has not seen a proper opportunity to attack the Papacy.
Bit of a short one this time. I've been very busy as of late, but I wanted to get something out to assure you guys that This Guilty Land is alive and well.
Much obliged.
This will be a source of confusion going forwards.
Chapter 7: Moldering On
Chapter 7: Moldering On
(Selection from An Artistic History of the Modern World by Chadwick Stockwood, 2002, University of Maryland Press)
American Nihilism
The decades following the division of the United States is defined by many movements in popular culture and popular understanding of the world. In the historiographic sphere, this period cemented the notion of "The Imperfect Union". In essence, this is the belief that the United States was inherently unstable. The flaws inherent in the USA's foundations began to show earlier than the war of southern independence. Shay's Rebellion, the Burr plot, Nat Turner's rebellion and John Brown's raid were begun to be understood as manifestations of American instability. It was Flint who stated that "the founding fathers of the United States were men desperately trying to make a 4-by-4 square fit in a 2-by-2 box, too lazy to build a bigger box despite having ample wood and tools. They wanted the men and women of this land to coexist, all the while reinforcing the artificial divisions between them." The late 19 and early 20th centuries would later be dubbed America's "little dark age" by Flint. The war and its consequences, as well as the general disunity which followed, created the idea in the mind of many Americans that the American experiment had proved a failure.In literary and theatrical circles, the war created a deep and desperate sense of loss and futility in the minds of many Northerners. The works of Ambrose Bierce and Mark Twain demonstrate the sense of disappointment many felt in the aftermath of the loss of the South and the continuance of American chattel slavery. The works by in the disunited states during this era would be categorized by later scholars as the "American Nihilism" genre. One example, often overlooked but of deep and crucial significance to understanding Dark Age America is Moldering On.
A play by Anglo-American playwright James Isaac, Moldering On is a bizarre play, often considered ahead of it's time. The play consists of three acts which seem largely disconnected, and scholars continue to debate what, if any, connection they have at all.
The first act centers around John Brown, now a soldier in the army of the lord alongside Spartacus and Nat Turner. Spartacus and Nat try to console a depressed John Brown, who is ashamed that his movement ultimately did nothing. After a solemn meditation on the concepts of slavery, freedom, and resistance, the act ends with a comic song entitled "The Best Reason To Do What We Do", which comes to the conclusion that dying for a hopeless cause is better than living for one.
The second act centers around an affair between Comstock, a preacher, and Emilia, a married woman. The joke of the story is that Comstock and Emilia's husband are portrayed by the same actor. Ultimately, Comstock gets Emilia pregnant, but since the two men look identical, she doesn't think her husband will notice.
The third act is a descent into madness focused around a man who slowly divides into two men. This is presented as deeply painful and disturbing for the man, but nobody around him cared that he is dividing. He slowly becomes two men, and the two men battle each other, before realizing that they themselves are dividing. The two breakdown into tears, and the play ends.
Image from a modern production of Moldering On
The first act is the most often analyzed, and it is occasionally staged on it's own, despite Isaac's explicit instructions that all three acts must be staged together. It was a favorite of many of the nihilist-abolitionists of the late 19th century, and is still widely studied by students across the English speaking world. All three acts are bleak in their own way, but act 1 is the only one in which the bleakness is understandably politicized.
Isaac's works, including Moldering On, were neglected during his own lifetime, with the only staging of this play known to have been performed during his lifetime was a production he himself directed and which drew only a small crowd and overwhelmingly negative reactions. It was only after Isaac's death that the play was reexamined within the context of American Nihilism and the Little Dark Age.
It is worth noting that the existential and nihilistic literary and artistic traditions which emerged in Europe’s own interwar period of the 20th century is distinctly different from its American counterpart. This movement is touched on in more detail in chapter 3.
[1] Actually from an adaptation of Brecht's The Threepenny Opera performed in the UK. Found on this website: http://www.operatoday.com/content/2016/05/the_threepenny_.php
so the second and third acts are obviously about secession and the US and CSA
the third about the risk of further seccesion and the second about how similar yet untrustworthy the CSA is.
nice to see the depressing tone your going for.most CSA victories focus on the south recovering and evolving but here the focus is on the north as it deals with the trauma and depression .it makes it clear that the CSA victory would be In fact a bad thing and the north as a a genuinely ideologically convinced place.
the third about the risk of further seccesion and the second about how similar yet untrustworthy the CSA is.
nice to see the depressing tone your going for.most CSA victories focus on the south recovering and evolving but here the focus is on the north as it deals with the trauma and depression .it makes it clear that the CSA victory would be In fact a bad thing and the north as a a genuinely ideologically convinced place.
Chapter 8: A Soldier All His Life
Chapter 8: A Soldier All His Life
February 13, 1872, New Orleans, Louisiana, Confederate States of America
James Longstreet scanned the crowd. From horseback, Longstreet had a relatively good view of the streets of New Orleans. As the parade procession passed down the streets of the city, Longstreet saw hundreds of Confederate citizens engaged in exultation. Longstreet had been asked to attend this new parade (they were calling it Rex, for whatever reason) in order to provide a sense of order to the chaos of Mardi Gras. It was believed that having a war hero, the man who had stood at Lee’s side no-less, would bring a level of southern class to the event. Mardi Gras was a very un-American holiday in the eyes of many. It had its origins in papism, and was viewed as debauched and hedonistic. Longstreet laughed a little about this. The notion that he was supposed to tame the holiday. He, the same James Longstreet who drank whiskey like water some days, who’d been a troubling student at West Point. He was no Southern Paladin, no knight-in-shining armor. And yet they paraded him through the streets as if he were some Russian Duke.
Like he was Lee. James knew who they wanted him to be, there was no use denying it. These people wanted him to be the old King of Spades, God rest his soul. Lee’d never have done it, of course. The old man really was a gentleman, and not always in the best of ways.
Still, Longstreet knew he had lucked out. He was beloved, famous enough to be the guest of honor at an event such as this, but needn’t spend his days sprawled over maps of the border, eternally worried at the threat of Yankee aggression. That was for old Tom Jackson [1], and thank the Lord that fellow had something to do. He was a queer fellow, but defense served him. He was a stone wall, after all.
Longstreet had been considered for the appointment to Commanding General. As far as James could tell, President Lubbock didn’t trust him. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t think much of it. Longstreet had no interest in being Commanding General now. The job had been rough on Lee, and James was content as a New Orleans businessman. Still, he was connected, and he was aware enough to have a pretty good idea of what was coming.
Francis Lubbock, Second President of the Confederate States of America
the other nations of the Earth over its continuance of the peculiar institution.
Without a strong federal government, James sensed that the nation would lose cohesion. Time and pressure would erode national cohesion until the CSA was a joke, a purely theoretical body. Longstreet shuttered at the notion that it was the rights of the states that would kill this nation. Divided, the states would fall.
As he scanned the crowd of faces, Longstreet saw his kin, saw these men and women of Southern heritage, and in that moment he knew fear. Fear that the nation would collapse, that brother would fight brother once again, that secession would be constant.
In that moment, from atop his high horse, riding through the streets of New Orleans like a Roman hero at a triumph, the once apolitical James Longstreet decided that only he could save this land.
[1] Tom Fool lives to suck more lemons and refuse to slouch another day.
The question then becomes: Shall Longstreet be Caesar the politician or Caesar the general?
Longstreet is going to have a rough time "fixing" the country, that's for sure.