Lincoln Page #38

Lincoln, his stovepipe hat atop his head, is mounted on a

horse on a rise at one end of the field. Behind him, several

UNION OFFICERS are also mounted. It's chilly; the breath of

the men and the horses is visible.

TITLE:
OUTSIDE PETERSBURG, VIRGINIA

APRIL 3

Lincoln flicks the reins of his horse, which starts down the

slope. The officers follow behind him. No one speaks.

119.

Lincoln rides slowly, his focus on the ground before him.

Debris is scattered all around him, along with the bodies of

fallen soldiers.

He looks up and across the battlefield; a terrible battle has

concluded a couple of hours ago.

Looking down, as he rides, he sees soldiers killed by

artillery fire, whose bodies lie twisted, burned, headless,

limbless, torn in two, blown out of their clothing or charred

too badly to tell. He sees soldiers killed by rifle and

bayonet, whose corpses are intact.

At the beginning of his ride, all the dead and wounded are in

Union blue, the casualties of Confederate cannon fire, felled

as the Union army, about six hours earlier, began its final,

successful drive to break through Confederate lines.

As Lincoln and his escorts move across the battlefield, grey

and blue uniformed corpses and badly wounded men intermingle.

He reaches the other side of the field, passing a Confederate

flag to enter the now-ruined town of Petersburg.

EXT. THE THOMAS WALLACE HOUSE, GRANT'S TEMPORARY

HEADQUARTERS, ON MARKET STREET, PETERSBURG - MORNING

Grant, smoking his cigar, his uniform dusty and rumpled, is

sitting on the small porch. He stares piercingly at Lincoln,

in a rocker next to him, watching his troops pass by as they

move in to secure the conquered town. Lincoln closes his

eyes.

He has grown older, the skin around his eyes is cobwebbed

with fine creases, and his hair's thinner, softer, suffused

with grey. His brow has grown smoother.

LINCOLN:

Once he surrenders, send his boys

back to their homes, their farms,

their shops.

GRANT:

Yes sir, as we discussed.

LINCOLN:

Liberality all around. No

punishment. I don't want that. And

the leaders - Jeff and the rest of

`em - if they escape, leave the

country while my back's turned,

that wouldn't upset me none.

120.

When peace comes it mustn't just be

hangings.

GRANT:

By outward appearance, you're ten

years older than you were a year

ago.

LINCOLN:

Some weariness has bit at my bones.

(BEAT)

I never seen the like of it before.

What I seen today. Never seen the

like of it before.

GRANT:

You always knew that, what this was

going to be. Intimate, and ugly.

You must've needed to see it close

when you decided to come down here.

LINCOLN:

We've made it possible for one

another to do terrible things.

GRANT:

And we've won the war. Now you have

to lead us out of it.

EXT. THE MCLEAN HOUSE, APPOMATTOX COURT HOUSE, VIRGINIA -

AFTERNOON:

OFFICERS OF THE CONFEDERATE AND UNION ARMY stand around in

the afternoon sun. Everyone's solemn, even stunned by what's

just happened. No one is speaking.

TITLE:
APPOMATTOX COURTHOUSE, VIRGINIA

APRIL 9, 1865

ROBERT E. LEE comes down the steps of the McLean house, as a

CONFEDERATE OFFICER brings his horse to him. His face is

blank. Lee mounts his waiting horse.

Lee should leave, having just surrendered to Grant inside;

but he's immobile. Some of the officers of both sides look at

Lee, some can't bear it. Lee tries out various expressions:

pride, defiance, blankness.

Grant stomps onto the porch of the house, followed by his

staff. Among them is Robert Lincoln.

121.

Grant, lost in thought, stops, taken aback, realizing that

Lee's still there, astride his horse. Everyone looks at the

two men who look awkwardly at one another.

Then Grant removes his famous slouch hat. Everyone freezes

for a moment, and then one by one, the officers of the Union

Army remove their hats.

Lee is visibly moved by this gesture of respect. He raises

his hat, briefly, only an inch from his head. Then, pulling

slightly on his horse's reins, he rides away.

EXT. A BUGGY RIDE THROUGH WASHINGTON - AFTERNOON

A beautiful spring afternoon. Lincoln and Mary are riding in

the buggy, driven by the old soldier.

MARY:

You've an itch to travel?

LINCOLN:

I'd like that. To the West by rail.

MARY:

(shaking her head no:)

Overseas.

LINCOLN:

The Holy Land.

MARY:

(a laugh, then:
)

Awfully pious for a man who takes

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