Gods and Generals - Jeff Shaara [103]
“Some of you are missing. I did not realize, until today, why attendance was falling off. Forgive me, I feel somewhat foolish.”
There were a few giggles. He saw heads turning to look at empty chairs, and he lowered his eyes, stared down at the podium.
“Some of you have decided to fight in this war. Some of your friends are on their way to join the army, have already joined. President Lincoln’s call for volunteers is being answered. To many of us, this is a surprise. Not because we did not believe people would join the fight, but because so many of them—so many of you—would do so with such . . . enthusiasm.
“I am embarrassed to tell you that I am among those who never believed this country would fall into this situation. I always have felt that we are a nation that is very different . . . unique, perhaps. We were founded by thinking men, brilliant men, men who designed a system where conflicts were resolved in debate, where the decision of the majority would prevail. These men had confidence in that majority, they had faith that the design of the system would, by definition, ensure that reasonable men would reach reasonable conclusions, and so we would govern ourselves, all of us, by this new type of system, a system where our conflicts and differences would be resolved by civilized means. There is no other system like this, anywhere. And if this war is lost . . . if the rebellion is successful, it is possible there may never be another.”
He paused, cleared his throat.
“Forgive me, I did not intend to talk about this . . . I do have a lesson prepared here. But . . . and you may know of this, the new regiments are being formed, and they are marching off to war, and of course . . . I knew that, I have been reading the papers, just like you. But I watched them today. They marched right by me, and I saw . . . you. And I felt a sense of history, of familiarity . . . as though I have seen this before, great columns of troops, men with strong, proud hearts and polished weapons, marching . . . just the same as they have done for centuries, since the dawn of man. Some of us have been naive enough to believe it would not happen again, that we have gone beyond that. We were wrong.
“I don’t mean to sound . . . political. I’ve never been one who gives much weight to the opinions of politicians, but we are living in a time when those opinions threaten the existence of this nation. That’s . . . extraordinary, but it is true. Those who lead the rebellion are trying to prove a point . . . a point that we are not one nation, that we are a group of separate countries, we are Maine, and Vermont, and Virginia and Georgia and Texas and New York . . . and that if any one of us disagrees with the policies of the Federal government, we have the right to erase whatever binds us together, disregard the existence—or the importance—of the Union. They have simply said, ‘We quit—and if you don’t approve of our right to quit, then you will have to send a great army down here and point your bayonets at us and maybe shoot us, and you may expect that we will do the same thing to you.’ If that seems a bit simplistic, forgive me. I know some of you are students of Dr. Coleman, who is imminently better qualified to explain political science.”
There were giggles, a few heads were shaking no, and he paused, scanned their faces, wondered why he was doing this, but they still watched him, waited silently.
He moved away from the podium, walked toward the tall window, looked out across the grounds of the college.
“We are so far removed, and yet, it is right here, right out there. We are all a part of it.”
He turned back to the faces. “Does this mean we are simply patriots? If we say you cannot destroy the Union, you cannot simply cut the ties that hold us together, is that a reason to pick up a rifle? Do any of you believe that President Lincoln has the right to ask you to . . . kill someone? I believe Dr. Coleman would agree that this nation was founded on the notion of self-determination, that we are all individuals with the right to choose, and so, how