Harry Harrison: Stars and Stripes In Peril

His sermon was about redemption and brotherly love and was — for him — unexpectedly short. Nor did he stand at the doorway as his parishioners left, as was his wont, but instead hurried into his vestry.

“How do, ma’am,” General Lee said tipping his hat to a black-garbed and elderly woman passing in the aisle. She gasped, looked horrified, and hurried on. As did all the others.

“It ’pears like they think we got something catching,” James Longstreet observed.

“Maybe we do,” Lee said, and smiled enigmatically.

When he reached his headquarters the officer of the day had a message for him.

“Delegation of the locals here to see you, General.”

“How many of them?”

“The Mayor, a Mr. John Lytle, and ten members of the Belfast City Council.”

“Too many. Tell them that I’ll see the mayor and one more of them, that’s enough. And before you let them in send for Surgeon Reynolds.”

He went through the accumulated reports on his desk until Reynolds came in.

“Sit down, Francis, and look military. The locals have finally decided that they want to talk to us.”

“Well that is surely nice to hear. I wonder what they will have to say for themselves.”

“Complaints, first off, I imagine.” Lee was right.

“Mayor Lytle, Councilor Mullan,” the sergeant said as he ushered them in.

Lytle, a plump man in a dark frock coat looked decidedly angry. “I protest, sir, at the exclusion of the councilors…”

“Please be seated, gentleman,” Lee interrupted. “I am General Lee, military commandant of this city. This is Surgeon Reynolds, on my staff. This city is under martial law and it is I who decide the size of all meetings both public and private. I am sure that you will understand that. Now — how may I be of service?”

Lytle sat down heavily in his chair and fingered his gold watchfob before he spoke. “You say martial law, sir? And why is that — and how long will it continue?”

“I have declared martial law because this country is in a state of war between two opposing military groups. Once all military opposition has been eliminated and peace restored, martial law will be lifted.”

“I protest. You have fired on this country’s armed forces—”

“That I have not done, sir.” Lee’s words were sharp, his voice cold. “This country is Ireland and I have engaged only British troops.”

“But we are British. We protest your presence here, your invasion…”

“If I might speak,” Reynolds said quietly. “I would like to point out some inescapable truths.”

“You’re not American,” Mullen said accusingly, hearing Reynolds’s Irish accent.

“Ahh, but I am, Mr. Mullen. Born in Derry and educated here in Belfast, but just as American as the general here. Ours is a nation of immigrants — as is yours.”

“Never!”

“I would like you to remember that you are a nationalist and a Protestant, whose ancestors immigrated here from Scotland some many hundreds of years ago. If you wish to return to that land, General Lee informs me that you are free to do so. If you remain here you will be fairly treated as will be all Irishman.”

“You’re a Teague,” Lytle snarled.

“No, sir,” Reynolds said coldly. “I am an Irish Catholic who is now an American citizen. In our country there is complete separation of Church and State. There is no official state religion…”

“But you will side with the Catholics against the Protestants, that’s what you will do…”

“Mr. Lytle.” Lee’s words cracked like a whip, silencing the man. “If you came here for a religious argument you may leave now. If you came as an elected official of this city, then address yourself to your reasons for your presence.”

Lytle was breathing hard, unable to speak. It was Councilor Mullan who broke the silence.

“General, the Protestants in the north are a much maligned people who are now united in peace with one another. We are a hard-working people who have built Belfast, in very few years, into a successful and growing city. We weave linen and build ships. But if we unite with the backward south — there will be changes I am sure. The past has been a turbulent one, but that I feel is over. Now what will happen to us?”

“You, and every other resident of this island, will be treated equally. I sincerely hope that you all follow the example of the people of Canada, where national elections have been held and a government has been democratically elected. The same we hope will be true of Mexico in the near future, now that the invading army has been expelled.”

“If you let them rule us there will be murder in the streets—”

“Mr. Lytle,” Reynolds said quietly, “there is no more ‘them.’ There is only democracy now, where all men are equal. One man, one vote. I should think that as an elected official yourself you would respect that fact. Ireland will no longer be ruled from above, ruled by a distant monarch and a self-appointed nobility. You are a free man and you should be grateful for that freedom.”

“Freedom!” he cried out. “We are ruled by invaders!”

“For the moment,” Lee said calmly. “But when you have had your election we will be more than happy to leave. You will have your own police force then to protect you, an army of your own as well to guard against foreign invasion if that is threatened. We have offered you freedom from foreign rule. You would be wise to take it.”

The mayor glared pure hatred. Unspoken was the knowledge that his Protestant majority in Northern Ireland would now be a minority in Catholic Ireland.

“You cannot be sure that the new Ireland will not have a place for you,” Surgeon Reynolds said quietly. “If we fight for equality we may be able to forget the inequalities of the past. Is that not worth working for? Do you see my blue uniform and General Lee’s gray one? Do you know the significance of this? We fought a terrible civil war, brother killing brother — and now we have turned our backs on it and live in peace. Can you not abandon your tribal loyalties and learn to live in peace with your brothers who share this island? Isn’t that a goal worth achieving, an ambition worth attaining?”

His answer was only grim silence. But from their expressions it was obvious that the two men were not pleased with the prospect of a brave new world.

Lee spoke into the silence.

“You gentlemen may go. Please contact me at any time concerning matters of the public good. We are all on the same side, as Surgeon Reynolds has so eloquently said.

“The side of peace.”

Despite General Sherman’s refusal to let him be anywhere near the invasion fleet, John Stuart Mill had still managed to arrive in Ireland as soon as hostilities were at an end. By appealing directly to President Lincoln, who had spoken to the Secretary of the Navy, who had confided in Admiral Farragut, who in turn had gone to Commodore Goldsborough for aid. Goldsborough made the eminently practical suggestion that Mill should see the war from the deck of his ship, the USS Avenger. Since the British had no ironclads that could better — or even equal — her in strength, his safety would not be put into question. Mill greatly enjoyed this wartime experience, particularly when the great ship had fired at an unseen target in Dublin, using the most modern communication, and had in this manner brought about the surrender of the British troops in Dublin Castle.

Only when martial law had been partially lifted was he permitted ashore. Even then a troop of cavalry escorted his carriage from the dock to Fitzwilliam Square, while General Sherman’s aide, Colonel Roberts, accompanied him.

“It is a splendid city,” Mill said looking at the leafy square and the handsome Georgian houses that surrounded it. The colonel pointed.