That remark once again drew thunderous applause, and Davis continued, brimming with self-satisfaction.
"Have you ever visited those factories of blood and tears? I have a friend. Whenever black slaves on his plantation slack off, or even try to run away, he sends them to work in your Northern factories for a while.
"After only a few weeks, when he sees them again, those black slaves are weeping, shouting, and begging to be taken away from that hell. Only after experiencing suffering do they realize just how happy they had been!"
"You're lying!"
Lincoln said resolutely. Fine beads of sweat already covered his forehead, yet he still gritted his teeth and pressed on. He knew he could not retreat now—if he did, his political career would be over.
Davis had come prepared. He immediately called forth several black men from the North to speak from personal experience.
The black men immediately recounted their experiences with vivid emotion. The more they spoke, the more worked up they became, until they even unconsciously broke into rap.
(Rap could be considered one of black people's passive talents. Sometimes, when black people got anxious, they would unconsciously start rapping.)
"You're lying! They're all frauds!"
Davis paid no mind to Lincoln's feeble accusations. He had long rehearsed this sort of scene with a friend from Austria.
In truth, not many people in Congress cared what these black men had to say. Lincoln alone had gone into a stress response and thrown himself into disarray.
"I know some people will surely choose to believe Mr. Lincoln and question the words of these two black men. But you can experience life in a Northern factory for yourselves, or you can visit my plantation as guests.
"Then you will know just how merciful, kind, and conscientious we are!"