Mid-afternoon. The McLean house.
Colonel Parker has two copies of the surrender. He leaves one on Grant’s table and takes the other across to Lee. Both men run their eye over the document and sign, Grant eagerly and Lee with weary reluctance. Then they exchange documents and sign again. Parker steps forward to collect the copies. As he does so, Lee extends a hand to him.
Lee Colonel …?
Parker Parker, sir, Ely Parker.
He shakes Lee’s hand.
Lee Good to see at least one real American is present.
Parker We are all Americans, sir.
Lee Very true.
Grant Although it has to be said that Colonel Parker has yet to be granted citizenship by a grateful nation.
Lee I’m sure that is an oversight which will speedily be rectified.
Parker Thank you, sir.
He withdraws, the documents in hand. Hiatus. Then Lee turns to Grant.
Lee If you’ll excuse me …
Grant Yes, of course; and I hope you’ll forgive me, sir: my uniform, I mean, my boots. I left camp several days ago without my sword and have not seen my baggage since. But I thought you would rather receive me as I am than be detained.
Lee Of course, sir; I’m much obliged to you for doing it in this way.
He shakes hands with Grant, bows to the others, turns upstage and moves away. Everyone falls away from him and he arrives, back to the audience, way upstage, opens the double doors and steps out on to the porch. A voice from the waiting troops offstage stops him in his tracks.
Voice Are we surrendered?
Lee Boys, you can go home; and if you make as good citizens as you have soldiers, you will do well. I … I have done the best I can for you. My heart is too full to say more.
Ragged cheers from offstage. Lee puts on his hat and gauntlets and disappears. It’s Grant who finally breaks the silence.
Grant Well, Rawlins? Everything to your satisfaction?
Rawlins This will live in history, sir.
Grant No doubt. Couldn’t tell what the old man was thinking, could you? He certainly knows how to keep a lid on it.
Rawlins Forget him. How do you feel?
Grant hesitates before answering.
Grant I can’t help it, I feel … sad.
He turns and leaves the room, his staff following him. Wilmer McLean moves forward, looking around as if to reclaim his house. His comfortable expression lasts only a moment, though, as he’s startled by the arrival of a number of men, mostly Union soldiers, plus some civilians. Before he can think of a way to react, a large man, a Captain, lifts one of the chairs where Grant or Lee sat.
Captain How much for the chair?
McLean It’s not for sale. These are all my personal possessions.
Captain I’ll give you twenty dollars.
McLean I said, it’s not for sale.
Brigadier Forty.
The Brigadier, who has suddenly materialised, has the money in his hand, in gold. McLean, increasingly panicked, shakes his head; but the Brigadier simply throws the money on the floor and seizes the chair. But the Captain is not about to give it up and a vicious tussle ensues, which ends in the chair, a light cane affair, coming apart as they struggle. Meanwhile, shadowy figures in the background are disappearing with every item of furniture in the room from the rugs to the grandfather clock. McLean rushes round like a headless chicken, but when he finally settles on a Trooper, who’s making off with a lamp, the Trooper simply produces a pistol, and, as McLean retreats, terrified, the Trooper helps himself to the bag of gold on the floor. A wail of protest from McLean.
McLean This is my house!
No one takes the slightest notice of him; and finally, as the lights begin to go down, he stands alone in a room entirely stripped bare.