Lincoln Page #27

Quicklime is shoveled atop the limbs.

Robert walks away, unsteady.

Around the corner, he fumbles through his pockets for rolling

paper and tobacco. He locates these and tries to focus on

rolling a cigarette, his hands shaking. He tries harder to

control his hands, his feelings, but he can't. He has a panic

attack, crying, hiccupy shallow breathing, face flushed.

Frustrated, he throws down the cigarette and tries to hold

back tears.

LINCOLN (O.C.)

What's the matter, Bob?

Robert looks up, mortified, to see Lincoln watching him with

concern. He wipes his eyes, his mouth.

ROBERT:

I have to do this! And I will do it

and I don't need your permission to

enlist.

LINCOLN:

That same speech has been made by

how many sons to how many fathers

since the war began? "I don't need

your damn permission, you miserable

old goat, I'm gonna enlist anyhow!"

And what wouldn't those numberless

fathers have given to be able to

say to their sons - as I now say to

mine - "I'm commander-in-chief, so

in point of fact, without my

permission, you ain't enlisting in

nothing, nowhere, young man."

84.

ROBERT:

It's mama you're scared of, not me

getting killed.

Lincoln slaps Robert in the face. It shocks them both.

Lincoln tries to embrace Robert, but Robert shoulders past

him and walks back toward the front of he building. He turns.

ROBERT (CONT'D)

I have to do this! And I will! Or I

will feel ashamed of myself for the

rest of my life. Whether or not you

fought is what's gonna matter. And

not just to other people, but to

myself.

I won't be you, pa. I can't do

that. But I don't want to be

nothing.

He hurries away.

LINCOLN:

We can't lose you.

INT. MARY'S BOUDOIR, SECOND FLOOR OF THE WHITE HOUSE - NIGHT

Outside, driving rain and wind. Lincoln sits by the window,

in his coat, vest and tie, hair combed neatly.

LINCOLN:

He'll be fine, Molly. City Point's

far from the front lines, from the

fighting, he'll be an adjutant

running messages for General Grant.

Mary sits at her vanity in a beautiful evening dress, pale

with rage.

MARY:

The war will take our son! A

sniper, or a shrapnel shell! Or

typhus, same as took Willie, it

takes hundreds of boys a day! He'll

die, uselessly, and how will I ever

forgive you? Most men, their

firstborn is their favorite, but

you, you've always blamed Robert

for being born, for trapping you in

a marriage that's only ever given

you grief and caused you regret!

85.

LINCOLN:

That's not true -

MARY:

And if the slaughter of Cold Harbor

is on your hands same as Grant, God

help us! We'll pay for the oceans

of spilled blood you've sanctioned,

the uncountable corpses we'll be

made to pay with our son's dear

BLOOD -

Lincoln rises from the window seat, angry.

LINCOLN:

Just, just this once, Mrs. Lincoln,

I demand of you to try and take the

liberal and not the selfish point

of view! You imagine Robert will

forgive us if we continue to stifle

his very natural ambition?!

MARY:

(with a mocking smile:)

And if I refuse to take the high

road, if I won't take up the rough

old cross, will you threaten me

again with the madhouse, as you did

when I couldn't stop crying over

Willie, when I showed you what

heartbreak, real heartbreak looked

like, and you hadn't the courage to

countenance it, to help me -

LINCOLN MARY:

That's right. When you I was in the room with

refused so much as to comfort Willie, I was holding him in

Tad - my arms as he died!

LINCOLN MARY:

- the child who was not only How dare you!

sick, dangerously sick, but

beside himself with grief?

LINCOLN MARY:

Oh but your grief, your How dare you throw that at

grief, your inexhaustible me?!

grief!

86.

LINCOLN MARY:

And his mother won't let him I couldn't let Tad in! I

near her, `cause she's couldn't risk him seeing how

screaming from morning to angry I was!

night pacing the corridors,

howling at shadows and

furniture and ghosts! I ought

to have done it, I ought have

done for Tad's sake, for

everybody's goddamned sake, I

should have clapped you in

the madhouse!

MARY (CONT'D)

THEN DO IT! Do it! Don't you

threaten me, you do it this time!

Lock me away! You'll have to, I

swear, if Robert is killed!

Silence. Then:

LINCOLN:

I couldn't tolerate you grieving so

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