"You are something of a poet, General," Mill said, smiling weakly.
"Please don't let anyone else know; let it be our secret."
Colonel Summers knocked discreetly, then let himself in. "Finished with these, General?" he asked, pointing to the folder.
"All signed. Take care of them, Andy."
"The two English gentlemen are here to see you, sir," he said, picking up the papers.
"Show them in, by all means."
When the door opened again John Stuart Mill was on his feet; General Sherman slowly joined him.
"Lord John Russell, Mr. Disraeli," the colonel said, then quietly closed the door and left.
The two politicians crossed the room, as different in appearance as they could possibly be. The aristocratic Russell amply filling his old-fashioned broadcloth suit. Disraeli, the successful novelist, the veteran politician, the man about town, spare and thin and dressed in the most outstanding way. He stroked his small, pointed beard and nodded politely toward Sherman.
"Do you gentleman know Mr. John Stuart Mill?" Sherman asked.
"Only by reputation," Disraeli said, bowing slightly toward Mill, his politician's face empty of any expression.
"I have met Mr. Mill and have followed his public activities. I have no desire to be in his company," Russell said in a cold voice, averting his eyes from the other man. Mill's face was suddenly drawn and white.
"Mr. Russell—I would suggest that you be more courteous. We are here on a matter of some importance to both you and your country; therefore, your ill temper does you no favors, sir." Sherman snapped the words out like a military command.
Russell flushed at the harshness of the words, the common form of address. He clamped his mouth shut and stared out of the window, resentful at being put down by this Yankee upstart. Sherman sat and waved the others to their chairs.
"Please be seated, gentlemen, and this meeting will begin." He waited a moment, then went on. "I have asked you to come here in your official positions. As Prime Minister of the government and leader of the opposition. In those capacities I would like you to assemble a meeting of the House of Commons in Parliament."
With an effort Lord Russell controlled his temper, and when he spoke his words were as cold and emotionless as he could manage. "Might I remind you, General, that the Houses of Parliament have been locked tight—upon your orders, sir."
"They have indeed." Sherman's voice was as flat as the other man's. "When the time comes the doors will be unlocked."
"To both chambers?" Disraeli asked, his voice betraying no evidence of the singular importance of his question.
"No." Sherman's words now had the imperious force of command. "The House of Lords has been abolished and will not reconvene. There is no place for hereditary titles in a democracy."
"By God, sir—you cannot!" Russell said vehemently.
"By God, sir—I can. You have lost your war and now you will pay the price."
Disraeli coughed lightly in the ensuing silence, then spoke. "Might I ask—have all the arrangements been made for the Queen to open Parliament?" Again his voice held no hint of the immense purport of his question.
"She will not. The private citizen Victoria Saxe-Coburg will remain in her residence on the Isle of Wight for the time being. This is a new Britain, a freer Britain, and you gentlemen must learn to accommodate yourself to it."
"This is still a constitutional Britain," Russell broke in. "It is the Queen's parliament and she must be there to open it. That is the law of the land."
"Was," General Sherman said. "I repeat. Your war has been lost and your country occupied. The Queen will not open Parliament."
Disraeli nodded slowly. "I presume that there is a reason for calling this session of Parliament to sit."
Sherman nodded. "There is indeed. Mr. Mill will be happy to enlighten you when he speaks to your assembly. Are there any further questions? No? Good. The Parliament will assemble in two days."
"Impossible!" Lord Russell fought to control his voice without succeeding. "The members of Parliament are spread across this land, dispersed..."
"I envisage no problems. All of the telegraph lines are now open and the trains running as scheduled. There should be no difficulty in assembling these gentlemen." Sherman rose to his feet. "I bid you good day."
Russell stamped from the room, but Disraeli held back. "What do you hope to accomplish, General?"
"I? Why nothing at all, Mr. Disraeli. My work is complete. The war is over. It is Mr. Mill who will be speaking to you about the future."
Disraeli turned to the philosopher and smiled. "In that case, sir, I ask you if you would be so kind as to join me? My carriage is outside, my London chambers close by. Any intelligence of what you plan to speak of would be gratefully received."
"Most kind, sir." Mill was unsure of himself. "You must know that people in these isles do not take kindly to my presence."
"Why then, we shall ignore them, Mr. Mill. I have taken great pleasure, even inspiration, from your works, and would deem it a singular honor if you would accept my invitation."
Sherman started to speak—then held his counsel. Mill would have to decide for himself in this matter.
"Most willingly, sir," Mill said, drawing himself up. "It will be my great pleasure."
Only after Mill and Disraeli had left did Colonel Summers bring General Sherman the message.
"This arrived a few minutes ago," he said, handing over the envelope. "The messenger is still here awaiting an answer. He was worried about being seen speaking with us, so we put him in a room down the hall."
"That's very secretive."
"With good reason—as you will see when you read the communication."
Sherman nodded as he read the brief message. "This concerns the emissaries that just arrived from Scotland?"
"It does indeed. A General McGregor and a Mr. MacLaren of the Highland Council. A third man also traveled with them, but he did not reveal his name."
"Getting more mysterious all the time. They want me to attend a meeting after dark at the home of a Scots nobleman. Do we know anything about him?"
"Just his name, the Earl of Eglinton, and the fact that he was a member of the House of Lords."
"Isn't this kind of thing more in Gus Fox's line of work?"
"The messenger was insistent that he must talk to you first on an unofficial basis. I asked him what authority he had. It was then that, ever so reluctantly, he revealed the fact that he was Earl of Eglinton himself."
"More and more interesting. Let's have him in here."
The Earl of Eglinton was tall and gray-haired, with a military bearing that was not reflected in his plain black suit. He did not speak until the soldier who had ushered him in had left.
"It is very good of you to see me, General." He nodded at Summers. "I am sure that the colonel has told you of the need for secrecy."
"He has—though not the reason for it."
The Earl looked uncomfortable, and hesitated before he spoke. "This is—how shall I say it?—a most difficult matter. I would really like to postpone any discussion until after you have met my associates at my home. Mr. MacLaren is the one who will make a complete explanation. I am here as their host—and to explain their bona fides. Nevertheless, I can tell you that this is a matter of national importance."
"Am I to assume," Sherman asked, looking closely at the Earl, "that Scotland is somehow involved in this?"
"You have my word, sir, that it is. I have a carriage with a reliable driver who will be arriving soon. Will you be able to accompany me when I leave?"
"Perhaps. If I do go, my aide, Colonel Summers, will accompany me."
"Yes, of course."
Summers had been looking closely at the Scottish nobleman. "I have a single concern," he said. "That is for General Sherman's safety. He is, after all, commander in chief of our occupying forces."
The Earl of Eglinton's face grew pale. "You have my word that there is no danger or threat
of danger, none whatsoever."
"I'll take the gentleman's word, Andy," Sherman said quietly. "I think we had better go with him and see what this is about."
Their wait was not a long one. Just after dark a guard brought the news that the gentleman's carriage was waiting. Sherman and Summers both wore their swords, as they had since the war began. The colonel now had a cavalry revolver in a holster on his belt. The carriage had stopped away from the courtyard lights so they could enter it unseen. As soon as the door was closed, they were on their way. It took only a few minutes to drive to Mayfair. As soon as they stopped, the door was opened and a man looked in and nodded to the Earl.
"You were no' followed," he said with a thick Scottish accent. "Angus there said the street is empty."
They emerged into a mews of carriage houses. The Earl of Eglinton led the way through a gate and into the house beyond. The door opened at their approach and they felt their way inside in the darkness. Only when the door was safely closed behind them did the servant uncover the lantern he was carrying. They followed him up the staircase and into a brightly lit room. Three men stood as they entered. Only when the door had closed did the Earl make the introductions.
"Gentlemen, this is General Sherman and his aide, Colonel Summers. General McGregor commands all of Her Majesty's armed forces in Scotland. The gentleman next to him is Mr. MacLaren of the Highland Council. And this is Mr. Robert Dalglish, who is chairman of..." The Earl of Eglinton hesitated before he finished the sentence, looking distraught. Then he pulled himself up and spoke in a firm voice. "Chairman of the National Party of Scotland."
Sherman could tell from the way the three men reacted that this revelation was of great importance. "I am sorry, Mr. Dalglish, but I am not familiar with this organization."
Dalglish smiled wryly and nodded. "I did not think that you would be, General. It is what might be called by some an illegal organization, one that believes in Scottish nationalism. Our precursor was the Association for the Vindication of Scottish Rights. This was a worthy organization that worked for a reformed administration in Scotland. Their cause was a good one—but in the end accomplished little that mattered. We of the National Party have set our sights higher since the conflict with the Americans began. There is much agreement that it is time for a change across the breadth of Scotland. We, and our sympathizers in high places, work for the cause of Scotland's freedom."
Sherman nodded; the reason for this clandestine meeting was becoming clear.
"Gentlemen, please be seated," the Earl of Eglinton said. "That is a carafe of Highland malt whiskey on the table—may I serve you?"
Sherman had a moment to think while the drinks were being poured. He raised his glass then and spoke quietly.
"Gentlemen, shall we drink to the freedom of the Scottish nation?" he asked.
With these words the tension seemed to drain from the air. They were of a common mind, a common purpose. But some matters needed clarification. Sherman turned to McGregor.
"You said, General, that you were commander in chief of Her Majesty's forces in Scotland."
"That was indeed my title. I now prefer to simply call myself commander of the army in Scotland. My troops are all in their barracks—where they will remain until there are further instructions. You of course know that the Scottish soldiers who fought in Liverpool have been disarmed and have returned north."
"What do your officers think of this turn of events?"
"I will be completely frank with you, sir. There are some English officers attached to our regiments. They are temporarily under detention. All of the other officers are with us in this."
Sherman thought about this, then turned to Robert Dalglish. "With the military of a single mind—I think I know how members of your National Party must feel. But what of the rest of the population of Scotland?"
"I of course cannot speak for them," Dalglish said. "But if a poll were taken tomorrow I have no doubt of the outcome. Our people will speak as one. A Scotland free of English influence. The restitution of our sovereign right to self-government taken away from us one hundred and sixty years ago when our own parliament was abolished by that blackmailing Act of Union. I am sure that it can be done without violence."
"I am of a like mind, Mr. Dalglish. The United States encourages democracy in other countries, an objective that has succeeded in Mexico, Canada, and very recently in Ireland. What are your thoughts on that?"
Dalglish smiled. "We have representatives now in the Irish republic studying how democracy works there. We want nothing better than free elections in a free Scotland."
"Rest assured, then," Sherman said. "My country will stand by you in this endeavor."
"Let it be swiftly done," Dalglish said with great feeling. "I raise my glass and thank you, General. This is a most memorable moment in the history of my land."
The rains of the previous night had blown themselves out. The dawn of the day of the first meeting of Parliament since the war began bright and clear. The wet streets glinted in the sunlight as Benjamin Disraeli's richly ornamented coach came down Whitehall to Parliament Square. Big Ben struck the hour of eleven as it drew up at the entrance. The footman ran to let down the step, then stood aside as Mill and Disraeli descended. They passed, heads down, before the blue-clad soldiers guarding the entrance.
Parliament was again in session.
The opening was brief, even curt, and the MPs murmured loudly in protest. Lord Russell, in the front row, rose slowly, nodded at the opposition on the opposite benches, ignoring John Stuart Mill completely, although he was just a few feet away.
"Gentlemen, this is a most tragic day." His voice was hollow and laden with portents of gloom. "I know not how to advise you, for too much horror has passed since last we sat. Our arms are broken, our country occupied. Our queen a prisoner in Osborne House." Voices were raised in anger at his words; there were even violent shouts. The speaker banged his gavel repeatedly, calling for order. Russell raised his hand and the protests slowly died away.
"I have been told that the House of Lords has been abolished—hundreds of years of our history wiped out with a stroke of the pen."
The shouting grew in angry volume, feet stamped in rage upon the floor, and they did not stop, no matter how Lord Russell called out to them, the speaker shouting hoarsely for them to cease, banging over and over again with his gavel. Only a few of the MPs were aware that the doors had opened and that American soldiers, rifles at the ready, stood in the opening. They opened ranks to let a general officer through; he marched straight ahead and stopped before Lord Russell and spoke to him. Russell nodded slowly and raised his hands for silence. Slowly and reluctantly the noise abated. When his voice could be heard again, Russell spoke.
"I have been reminded once more that this House now operates under certain restraints. We must let our voices be heard—but we must get on with the matters to hand. If we do not do this, we will be silencing ourselves, even before we have spoken. We owe it to the people of this country, whom we represent, to speak up on their behalf. Terrible events have occurred and we have survived them. But this house must also survive and be heard, for we speak for the nation."
There was a murmur of approval from the members as Russell resumed his seat. The American officer turned and left the chamber, his soldiers following after; the doors were closed. With Russell seated, Benjamin Disraeli, leader of the opposition, rose in his stead.
"May I remind the honorable gentlemen of our history. If we forget history we risk repeating it. Once before, this land was riven by violence. A king unthroned, Parliament dissolved. A man who called himself the Protector assumed control of this country and ruled it with an iron hand. But I ask for no latter-day Cromwell now. I ask only that we maintain the rule of law as set forth in the Magna Carta and the Bill of Rights. I ask you to hear what Mr. John Stuart Mill has to say to us."
The silent hatred in the venerable chamber was almost palpable. Mill felt it—but ignored it. He had come here
armed with truth, and that was his strength and his shield. He stood and looked around him, standing straight, his hands clasped behind his back.
"I wish to speak to you about the extent that forms of government are a matter of choice. I speak of principles that I have been working up during the greater part of my life, and most of these practical suggestions have been anticipated by others—many of them sitting in this house.
"In your debates both Liberals and Conservatives seem to have differed. But I say to you that a much better doctrine must be possible, not a mere compromise, by splitting the differences between the two, leaving something wider than either, which, in virtue of its superior comprehensiveness, might be adopted by either Liberal or Conservative without renouncing anything which he really feels to be valuable to his own creed.
"I ask you to look upon our own history when you look at the Americans who now move among us." Mill waited patiently until the angry murmurs had died away. "Do not see them as strangers, for they are indeed verily our sons. The truth is that their country has been built upon what were our doctrines. The founding principles of the United States were British ideas of liberty to begin with. They may have slipped from our hands since that time, but they are still enshrined on the other side of the Atlantic.
"That the Americans have modeled their democracy on ours is a fact that should flatter, not incense us. They have an upper and lower chamber of their congress, just as we do. But with a single great difference. All of their representatives are elected. Power flows up from the people, not down from the top, as is our practice here.
"I heard many of you cry out in anger at the decree that has abolished the House of Lords. But the notion that power can be conferred by blood struck the Americans as absurd. Which it is. As that astute Englishman Thomas Paine argued—it is people of high talent, not birth, who should rule the country. For him a hereditary governing class was as absurd as a hereditary mathematician, or a hereditary wise man—and as ridiculous as a hereditary poet laureate."
Stars & Stripes Triumphant Page 21
