Killer Angels, The - Michael Shaara [31]
"... know that government derives its power from the consent of the governed.
Every government, everywhere. And, sir, let me make this plain: We do not consent. We will never consent."
They stood up as Longstreet approached. Sorrel's face was flushed. Jim Kemper was not finished with the argument, Longstreet or no. To Fremantle he went on:
"You must tell them, and make it plain, that what we are fighting for is our freedom from the rule of what is to us a foreign government. That's all we want and that's what this war is all about. We established this country in the first place with strong state governments just for that reason, to avoid a central tyranny-"
"Oh Lord," Armistead said, "the Cause."
Fremantle rose, trying to face Longstreet and continue to listen politely to Kemper at the same moment. Pickett suggested with authority that it was growing quite late and that his officers should get back to their separate commands.
There were polite farewells and kind words, and Longstreet walked Pickett and Armistead to their horses. Kemper was still saying firm, hard, noble things to Sorrel and Sorrel was agreeing absolutely-mongrelizing, money-grubbing Yankees-and Longstreet said, "What happened?"
Pickett answered obligingly, unconcerned, "Well, Jim Kemper kept needling our English friend about why they didn't come and join in with us, it being in their interest and all, and the Englishman said that it was a very touchy subject, since most Englishmen figured the war was all about, ah, slavery, and then old Kemper got a bit outraged and had to explain to him how wrong he was, and Sorrel and some others joined in, but no harm done."
"Damn fool," Kemper said. "He still thinks it's about slavery."
"Actually," Pickett said gravely, "I think my analogy of the club was best. I mean, it's as if we all joined a gentlemen's club, and then the members of the club started sticking their noses into our private lives, and then we up and resigned, and then they tell us we don't have the right to resign. I think that's a fair analogy, hey, Pete?"
Longstreet shrugged. They all stood for a moment agreeing with each other, Longstreet saying nothing. After a while they were mounted, still chatting about what a shame it was that so many people seemed to think it was slavery that brought on the war, when all it was really was a question of the Constitution. Longstreet took the reins of Pickett's horse.
"George, the army is concentrating toward Gettysburg.
Hill is going in in the morning and we'll follow, and Ewell is coming down from the north. Tomorrow night we'll all be together."
"Oh, very good." Pickett was delighted. He was looking forward to parties and music.
Longstreet said, "I think that sometime in the next few days there's going to be a big fight. I want you to do everything necessary to get your boys ready."
"Sir, they're ready now."
"Well, do what you can. The little things. See to the water. Once the army is gathered in one place all the wells will run dry. See to it, George."
"I will, I will."
Longstreet thought: don't be so damn motherly.
"Well, then. I'll see you tomorrow night."
They said their good nights. Armistead waved farewell.
"If you happen to run across Jubal Early, Peter, tell him for me to go to hell."
They rode off into the dark. The moon was down; the night sky was filled with stars. Longstreet stood for a moment alone. Some good men there. Lo had said,
"Best defensive soldier." From Lewis, a compliment. And yet, is it really my nature? Or is it only the simple reality?
Might as well argue with stars.
The fires were dying one by one. Longstreet went back to his place by the camp table. The tall silent aide from Texas, T. J. Goree, had curled up in a bedroll, always near, to be used at a moment's notice. For "The Cause." So many good men. Longstreet waited alone, saw one falling star, reminding him once more of the girl in a field a long time ago.
Harrison came back long after midnight. He brought the news of Union