Stars & Stripes Triumphant (27 page)

"I'll want to see him as soon as he arrives. Anything else here of any importance?"

"Some orders to sign."

"Let's have them. The sooner that I am done with the paperwork, the better."

A CONSTITUTIONAL CONGRESS

John Stuart Mill looked ill at ease. He shuffled through the sheaf of papers on the table before him, then squared the pile and pushed them away. The room was large and ornate, the walls hung thickly with the portraits of long-dead English kings. Outside the tall windows stretched the immaculately manicured gardens of BuckinghamPalace. At the far end of the conference table General Sherman signed the last of the orders in the folder, closed it, then glanced up at the clock on the wall.

"Well—I see that our guests are not as prompt as might be expected," he said. "But they will come, be assured of that." He spoke lightly, hoping to alleviate the philosopher's unease. Mill smiled wanly.

"Yes, of course, they must realize the importance of this meeting."

"If they don't—I count upon you to enlighten them."

"I shall do my best, General, but you must realize that I am no man of action. I am more at home in my study than on the debating floor."

"You underestimate your abilities, Mr. Mill. In Dublin you had the politicians eating out of your hand. When you spoke they were silent, intent on partaking of your wisdom. You will be fine."

"Ah, yes—but that was Dublin." Mill sounded distressed, and there was a fine beading of perspiration on his brow. "In Ireland I was telling them what they had spent their lifetimes waiting to hear. I showed them just how they could finally rule in their own land. They could not but be attentive." Now Mill frowned unhappily at more recent memories. "However, my countrymen have taken great umbrage at my presence in Dublin.
The Times
went so far as to call me a traitor to my country and to my class. The other newspapers were—how shall I say it?—more than indignant, actually calling down curses upon my head..."

"My dear Mr. Mill," Sherman said calmly. "Newspapers exist to sell copies, not to dispense the truth—or to see both sides of an argument. Some years ago, before I resumed my interrupted military career, I was, for a short while, a banker in California. When my bank fell upon hard times, there were calls to tar and feather me—or, preferably, burn me at the stake. Pay the papers no heed, sir. Their miasmic vaporings rise from the pit and will be dispersed by the clear winds of truth."

"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."