Gods and Generals - Jeff Shaara [52]
“The President knows this?”
“Of course. This is his game: politics. The army can’t fire the first shot, and so far, nothing violent has happened.”
“But General, if the fort is fired on, the army will respond. They will have to.”
“You have the picture, Colonel. Now, think back to all that moral outrage that’s spreading like a plague in the North, and . . .” Scott raised his hands, a slow, rising motion, then spread them apart. “Boom.”
“A war.”
“Yes, Colonel, a war. But at least the President can say it’s a good war, a war for what is right. And so . . . we will need commanders who will accept that as the truth, commanders who will understand their duty, their loyalties, who will not hesitate if ordered to fire on American citizens. What do you say, Mr. Lee?”
“A war . . . will involve everyone. There will be no neutral ground. If Virginia sides with the southern states . . . General, I cannot fire upon my home.”
Lee stood, walked to the window and looked out, across the Potomac.
“General, my home is right there. My family is spread all over this part of Virginia.” He turned back, felt a shock, the clear vision. “If you . . . invade the South, this is where it will happen. Your enemy territory will be there . . . right across that river, and so, that is where it will begin. I would not . . . I could not accept that assignment, General.”
“Colonel, you said yourself there is no great cry for secession in Virginia. I do not believe it is a foregone conclusion that Virginia, or Tennessee, or Arkansas, or Kentucky will join in the rebellion.”
“I hope you’re right, General. I pray you are right. But if there is fighting, many things could change. I must request time to consider your offer. Please, allow me some time.”
“All right, Colonel. Think about it. You know where to find me.”
Lee sensed an abruptness, knew it was time to leave. He moved toward the door, then stopped. “General, please understand, I am honored you would consider me—”
“Colonel Lee, there is a great deal more at stake here than honor.”
April 1861
ON APRIL 12, P.G.T. Beauregard, a man who had served with Lee as a fellow engineer in Mexico, commanded the Confederate troops who opened fire on Fort Sumter.
Major Robert Anderson had held solidly to the fort for two days, with no loss of life, but ultimately had to concede to the hopelessness of his position.
In Richmond, the state convention to debate the calls for secession met secretly. Lee heard that the voices of reason dominated the sessions, and he was confident Virginia would remain neutral. On April 17 he received an urgent request to come to the house of Francis P. Blair, father of an old friend from Lee’s days as an engineer in St. Louis, before the Mexican War. He was also a close acquaintance of President Lincoln.
Early the next day, Lee rode his small carriage over the bridge into Washington. The river flowed peacefully beneath him, and along the banks, rows of young trees were speckled with the fresh buds of a new spring. He could see couples, lovers walking along the water, wrapped with the sublime peace of romance. For a moment he felt lost, away from all the turmoil. He left the bridge and rode through the wide streets, feeling as good as he had in weeks. It must be the air, he thought, and had a sense that everything would be all right, the troubles would pass.
Then he reached the Blair house, climbed out of the carriage, and saw an old man standing on the porch. The look on the man’s face, a stony, sobering stare, brought Lee back down, back to the place and the time. It was Francis Blair.
As Lee reached the porch, Blair turned, without speaking, walked into the house and held the door open for Lee, who followed. Lee was ready with a warm greeting, inquiries about Blair’s son, still in Missouri, but the old man did not speak. He led Lee into a study, a large and impressive room with shelves filled with hundreds of books.
Lee looked around the room admiringly, and finally Blair