Mosby, Pickett and the Lees in Richmond

The lights dim up on the sitting room of a large suite in the venerable Exchange Hotel in Richmond, and the sounds of the music of Vivaldi can be heard. Although not terribly lavish, the rooms are as spacious and fine as can be found in the city for the Lee family. It is March of 1870, in the center of a place virtually destroyed only five years before during the very last days of the Civil War. A small sofa is at center, with several delicate-looking chairs nearby, and a small table at stage L. At stage R is the large front door to the suite, with two smaller doors leading to separate bedrooms at L. A knock is soon heard at the front door, quietly at first, then a bit louder as it is repeated. From one of the back bedrooms emerges AGNES LEE, dressed in the dark, formal fashion of that day. The strong features of her attractive face are serious as she hurriedly smoothes, adjusts, and aligns her long dress, all the while trying to respond as quickly as possible to the person at the door, as the music fades.  

AGNES: Coming … (Through the door.) Just a moment, please. (Although obviously having been interrupted unexpectedly, she composes herself quickly and capably in the finest tradition of ladylike behavior.) I’ll be right there … (Arranging her pretty hair with resigned finality, she pauses before opening the door. When she does she is surprised by the figure she encounters.) Why – Colonel Mosby. Can this possibly be you?  

MOSBY: Yes, Ma’am. I am afraid that it is.  

AGNES: And back so soon?  

MOSBY: Yes, Ma’am. Yes, indeed. Again at your service – and with sincere apologies for my inconvenience. May I? (With AGNES indicating that he may do so, COLONEL JOHN SINGLETON MOSBY enters the suite, having already removed his light-colored slouch hat. Known as the “Gray Ghost of the Confederacy” for his legendary exploits and leadership of the partisan brigade known as Mosby’s Rangers, his relaxed demeanor and good nature would seem to belie his reputation. Now a successful Virginia lawyer, he is clean-shaven and boyishly handsome, dressed casually in coat and trousers of tan and beige.) Thank you, again, Miss Agnes.  

AGNES: We now have two distinct appearances at the same site in a very short period of time, do we not? I can now fully understand exactly what earned for you the admiring sobriquet of our people when they refer to you as “the Gray Ghost.”  

MOSBY: (Smiling easily, as is his nature.) Good Miss Agnes, it would indeed be a Gray Ghost – or a ghost of any color – that I would gladly choose to become rather than impose myself upon your hospitality and good nature two times in one day, and in such rapid succession. Without a necessary and just cause, that is. (He smiles charmingly and gives her a wink.)

AGNES: (She too smiles easily.) But here you are, Colonel Mosby. And in just a matter of moments, it seems. I can only be impressed at the speed of your transport.  

MOSBY: My unexpected role in this second visit is other than to merely pay my respects twice. This time … I am serving as something of a … social facilitator. And were not the principals involved here of such deserved esteem and attention, never would I deign to ever interrupt or intrude upon the Lee family’s rooms twice in the very same afternoon.  

AGNES: I see …  

MOSBY: That thought would have perished rapidly.  

AGNES: Colonel Mosby, when word first reached us postwar that you had begun to apply your boundless talents and energies to pursue the calling of the barrister –  

MOSBY: – rather than to the discomfiture of the Yankees?  

AGNES: Yes – it was undeniably something of a surprise. But as of this moment it has become very clear indeed that you have now most definitely become … a lawyer.  

MOSBY: Or some sort of coat-and-tied rapscallion, anyway. (He moves close to her in the manner of a mock conspirator.) Be wary, Miss Agnes. You know…I might even be, dare I even speak it … a Republican. Of some sort, anyway. (He pulls back.) One never knows …  

AGNES: Let us rue that day, good Sir. (She good-naturedly pushes him away.) We have scalawags enough in our country. But let us do away your mystery. Who is it that now accompanies you to the now oft-violated sanctity of our Lee family hotel suite?  

MOSBY: (Now serious.) It is …  

AGNES: Yes … ?  

MOSBY: It is General Pickett, Miss Agnes.  

AGNES: General Pickett – ?  

MOSBY: Yes, Ma’am. Major General George Edward Pickett. It is he who is here.  

AGNES: (She is truly taken aback.) Oh … I see …  

MOSBY: (Quickly, politely holding a finger to his lips to indicate silence.) He is just in the hallway.  

AGNES: But – why?

MOSBY: Why?  

AGNES: I mean, why – here?  

MOSBY: Why here?  

AGNES: Why here – I mean, why now? With you, I mean …  

MOSBY: General Pickett was most desirous of seeing General Lee.  

AGNES: But … how did this come about so quickly?  

MOSBY: Rather remarkably, I must say. Just moments after my earlier visit, I unexpectedly encountered General Pickett on the street, just in front of this hotel. Purely by chance. We chatted briefly. Of course, he knew nothing of your presence here in Richmond. Few people do, apparently.  

AGNES: (Still apparently momentarily at a loss for words.) Is the General … well?  

MOSBY: I beg your pardon? You mean Pickett? (She nods.) Why, yes … I believe he is. (Curiously.) That is to say, he would appear to be.  

AGNES: Well, then … good.  

MOSBY: When he heard that I had just called upon you and the General he quickly stated how very much he too would like to pay his respects – if not inconvenient, of course. But he was determined that I accompany him. Actually, he rather insisted upon it.  

AGNES: I see.  

MOSBY: I cannot speculate as to why he felt he needed me. Perhaps it is only that he wishes to be announced. For an old soldier always so … so sincerely flamboyant, I’ll say, George Pickett has nonetheless always seemed to possess a great fondness for the formalities of things.  

AGNES: Presumably that would be the enduring influence of his West Point experience.  

MOSBY: Perhaps. (Observing her closely.) I hope you do not mind, Miss Agnes.  

AGNES: Not at all. Father has just now gone to lie down for a rest, however. Please just give me a moment or two to gather him. (She turns.)  

MOSBY: Miss Agnes –  

AGNES: (Turning back, and having now collected herself.) Please ask General Pickett to come inside. Please tell him that he is welcome.  

MOSBY: Yes, Ma’am. Thank you. (He offers a slight bow, then begins to move towards the front door. AGNES has not moved.)  

AGNES: Colonel Mosby –  

MOSBY: (Turning quickly.) Yes, Ma’am?  

AGNES: Please do assure General Pickett that he is most welcome.  

MOSBY: (With a gracious nod of his head.) That I shall, Miss Agnes. Thank you.  

MOSBY exits the front door and closes it behind him. Left alone, AGNES does not move. Her fine features are set, serious and contemplative. She then turns and crosses to knock gently on the door of one of the bedrooms at far left.  

AGNES: (Softly.) Father …  

After knocking again, she opens the door and enters the darkened room, closing the door behind her. After a polite knock heard by no one, the main door to the suite swings open to reveal MOSBY standing at its threshold. Seeing no one, he enters, followed by GENERAL GEORGE E. PICKETT. Once in the sitting room, the former Confederate major general is a studied contrast to the energetic MOSBY, who indicates a chair which the other man declines with a slight but definite gesture. Standing poised to await his hosts, PICKETT wears a very dark suit of worsted wool. But instead of the expected starched collar and basic tie to accompany such business wear, his shirt is of white linen with a large, soft collar about which is loosely tied an elaborate cravat of dark silk. As was his style during the war, PICKETT’s dark hair is still worn long, and his distinctive beard is neatly trimmed. Briefly attempting to emulate PICKETT’s stolid pose, MOSBY cannot hope to do so, as first he sits on the sofa, then tries a chair, then stands again and crosses to look out of one the room’s large windows. Neither of the two former warriors has spoken before GENERAL ROBERT E. LEE suddenly appears, silently framed at the doorway of his room. In MOSBY’s own words: “The General was pale and haggard, and did not look like the Apollo I had known in the Army.” With hair and beard now completely white, the esteemed general’s dark suit and vest are somewhat rumpled. Although well-tailored, the suit appears almost ill-fitting on the figure of the old man. But this impression is balanced by the elegant dark tie which impeccably secures the crisp white collar which frames the tired but ever noble visage. And when the old soldier steps forward to enter the sitting room there can be no doubt that this is the legendary “Robert E. Lee.” Once noticed by PICKETT, the focus of the moment and the room is the long look that passes between the two former comrades in arms. In the pregnant silence, for some reason it seems as if an entire world awaits what will be said. As the two intently regard each other even the loquacious MOSBY seems for once to be at a loss for words. In a sudden urgency to moderate, perhaps even to diffuse the spell, when he does speak it is nearly an exclamation.  

MOSBY: Great Southern Generals! (To no response.) Well now, here we are … and I am very nearly surrounded – again!  

LEE: (Acknowledging MOSBY.) Again? That could never be said about Colonel Mosby.  

MOSBY: General Lee. (Nodding deferentially.) Again …  

LEE: (He does not step forward, but bows stiffly towards Pickett.) General Pickett.  

PICKETT: General Lee. (Offering the same sort of restrained, constricted gesture.) At your service, Sir.  

MOSBY: Still? My … my … The legendary Pickett once again at the service of the gallant Lee? Oh, no! This new nation could ne’er again bear such a momentous combination. (This effort at humor fails when no one laughs, and no one moves until …)  

AGNES: (Having appeared behind LEE.) Father … (She takes his arm.) Please, good Sir … (Gently leading LEE towards the sofa.) Do you see, Father? It is indeed that charming Colonel Mosby – again – and not some gray apparitional manifestation which has appeared.  

MOSBY: (Smiling with her.) Quicker I’d confess to being a Gray Ghost than, what did you say – an “apparitional manifestation”? That sounds far too severe.  

AGNES: Why, General Pickett. (Crossing to PICKETT and extending her hand.) George Pickett. (Warmly.) How do you do?  

PICKETT: Miss Agnes … (Taking her hand, he bows deftly and, after kissing it delicately and expertly, steps back slightly to look at her.) Let me see … Why, Miss Lee – I do truly believe you are now lovelier than ever. Somehow. If that is even possible, Mademoiselle.  

AGNES: (Matching his charm.) How very nice it is to see you again, General.  

PICKETT: And you, my dear.  

AGNES: Is it possible for anyone to absorb such flattery from such keen and honest eyes?  

PICKETT: Inevitably the eyes may have dimmed, albeit ever so slightly – but the keen observations remain ever accurate and quite valid. And sincere.

AGNES: (Turning to the room.) Well … Gentlemen. (Returning to LEE’s side she helps him to the sofa where, after he is seated, she seeks to make him comfortable.) Please, please. Follow the lead of your old Commander, and do be seated. We are very informal formalists here. (MOSBY and PICKETT remain standing.)  

MOSBY: General Lee, your lovely young daughter behaves like a beautiful young Sergeant-at-Arms.  

AGNES: As your charming hostess twice in the same day –  

MOSBY: – within the same hour, I might add.  

AGNES: – I will not tolerate any insult. And especially not from some old Phantom.  

MOSBY: (Bowing deeply.) My most humble apologies, Miss Agnes.  

AGNES: Now do sit, Gentlemen. (Indicating the chairs.) I cannot bear to repeat myself again. Sit, sit … (MOSBY and PICKETT select their seats, with each man carefully considering his position in relation to LEE.) I am on my way to secure the services of the concierge, in order to acquire some type of refreshment appropriate and appealing to old soldiers such as you three. Although hardly Spring, it is indeed warm here. (Regarding LEE.) Now, Father … (The look on his face is neither stern nor pained, but causes her to pause.) We all know with great certainty that General Pickett is a gentleman. But please do try to ensure that Colonel Mosby here manages to behave properly during the brief period of my absence. (Smiling at her own humor, she notes that the face of PICKETT has become impassive; but as she crosses to the front door, PICKETT is the only one to stand. She exits, and he remains standing after she has gone.)  

MOSBY: (Breaking the silence, he addresses LEE.) So, General. Have there been any major developments on this particular front since my last visit?  

LEE: (Dryly.) None of which I am aware, Colonel. At least nothing major.  

MOSBY: Ah … (He then looks at PICKETT.) George, please. Do have a seat. You are indeed the consummate gentleman, but it would appear that the ladies of the region have all fled our presence. (PICKETT slowly sits.) And once again I’ve managed to drive them away. (He looks curiously at each of the other men.) Might I say, that …  

LEE: (Speaking directly to PICKETT.) I take it that you are well, General.  

PICKETT: Yes, Sir. Thank you. And you, Sir?  

LEE: Well enough, I presume.  

PICKETT: And Mrs. Lee?

LEE: She too is fine, thank you. Most durable, thankfully. How is your lovely wife, and your young child?  

PICKETT: They are well, thank you. And also durable. Thankfully. (He clears his throat.) Since war’s end, we have been blessed with another arrival. Another son.  

LEE: Oh? (For some reason, this news seems to genuinely touch him.) My goodness …  

PICKETT: I have been more than thrice-blessed.  

LEE: Please accept and convey my congratulations.  

PICKETT: That I shall. Thank you, Sir.  

MOSBY: Well, we’ve all been busy men …  

LEE: (To PICKETT, quite audibly, but almost to himself .) Since war’s end …  

MOSBY: He means the shooting war, General.  

LEE: (Still too pensive to appreciate much humor.) Of course, of course …  

MOSBY: This newer war, this war of economic politics and national subjugation – this new war is far worse than the other, I fear. If such a thing be possible. For the honorable men, anyway. (No one responds.) At least, it is worse on the nerves of good and honorable men … (Looking from LEE to PICKETT.) What say thee to that, Brother Pickett? Might thou not agree?  

PICKETT: Yes, I would agree.  

MOSBY: Yes … ? (At the continuing silence, he begins to appear at a loss.)  

LEE: (In an effort now to be supportive of  MOSBY’s efforts.) If I may speak frankly …  

MOSBY: Of course you may, General. I would hope that is why we are here. At least, one of the reasons we are here.  

LEE: My family and I now live in the relative isolation of the mountains of Virginia, as you know. Happily, I should add. In Lexington. But even from there, it can so easily be observed that surely, if the Union be worth preserving, those in charge of the country should seek more determinedly to conciliate the entire nation.  

MOSBY: And not continue to do all in their power against the Southern part of it?  

LEE: One would hope.

MOSBY: That certainly would seem logical enough.  

LEE: Logical, yes …  

MOSBY: I see no Americans or group of Americans courageous enough to oppose those Radicals among the Republicans who have such firm control of the nation. And no one stands fairly up to even try and hinder them. (He stands.)  

LEE: You shall have no argument here.  

MOSBY: Maybe our friend Mr. Grant will somehow be able to make a difference.  

LEE: It remains most essentially a matter of courage. Again. But not just Southern courage this time. And perhaps you might be right about General Grant.  

MOSBY: (Turning to PICKETT.) George –  

PICKETT: (Having been staring straight ahead.) Yes? (He stands.) I was forced to flee to another country. Like a common criminal. To Canada. I lived in Montreal for more than a year, forced to live with my family under a false name. And why? Because the Radicals were determined to see me hanged. Nothing less. Hanged! For fighting a war.  

MOSBY: For losing a war. You should be honored.  

PICKETT: Honored, Colonel? Honored by such an ignominious experience as being hunted? No, Sir. That is never to be forgotten. Not by me, anyway.  

MOSBY: You won’t be alone, General. And anyway, how could anyone ever forget the name of Pickett? That’s your fault. You discomfited them too often, and put them to flight on too many fields too many times for them ever to forget you, my Friend.  

PICKETT: (Speaking softly, he stares straight ahead.) Others of us did as much. And more …  

MOSBY: George, don’t you see? (Laughing.) Your greatest crime was to have made that old Beast Butler look the fool – and that you certainly did more than once. And he’s exactly the sort of bloody Radical running this country now.  

PICKETT: He burned my home to the ground – that should have been enough. What had been home to my family for generations they destroyed like so much tinder. (He laughs without mirth.) Do you know … they even dug up the cemetery. Yes, they did indeed. Butler had told his willing vandals that therein lay all of the cleverly hidden treasures of the Picketts … Can you just imagine? The treasures of the Picketts …    

MOSBY: No …  

PICKETT: No, Sir! That should have been revenge enough upon my innocent family.  

MOSBY: George –  

PICKETT: And then … to be denounced, and described – as a murderer! And this in the very halls of the Congress of this land… (The passion of his outburst having been spent, he looks around painfully, then awkwardly takes his seat.) My apologies, Gentlemen. I fear that I have managed to rather thoroughly overextend and embarrass myself.  

MOSBY: Never, not among friends.  

Necessarily attentive to all that has been spoken, LEE now rises and walks to one of the hotel window. Near the now quiescent PICKETT, MOSBY can only look imploringly at LEE’s back. There is a silence before LEE turns and begins to speak. If sincere, his words are still curiously controlled.  

LEE: One would pray that it might ever be possible to see clearly that, if only our people were left alone to rebuild, the hostility which must be felt after such a war would of itself decrease more rapidly. But that can only be continued, and made worse, by such incessant provocation as we experience ceaselessly.  

MOSBY: (Relieved that a dialogue of any sort has begun.) Had Lincoln been allowed to live, none of this so-called Reconstruction would have to be endured. (He looks at the still impassive PICKETT.) And they had the damnable calculation and audacity to blame his murder on the South.  

PICKETT: And they succeeded!  

LEE: (Continuing collectedly.) By the martial law and their endless proposals, it seems as though the Congress is entirely committed to keep alive the outrage and bad blood in the South against the North. We sought to avoid that …  

MOSBY: And among those bloody shirts there is hardly a single true fighting man, if any. Have you noticed that fact?  

LEE: What the Radicals refuse to understand is, beyond the damage already wrought by such deplorable actions, they guarantee the enmity will be sustained for years without number. If they continue to succeed unchallenged, there can be no hope whatever for peaceful homes and stable government. Economic recovery will be near impossible. Relations between the races are already being injured beyond any easy repair. The concept of any Union, for which their own sons fought and died, can only be in name.  

MOSBY: Well, General … You’ve made it clear how you feel about holding any sort of office. But despite your being so disinclined, I must say that there now exists a strong urge to begin a write-in campaign for the very next available meaningful position – of any kind.  

LEE: Save your energies for more hopeful efforts, Colonel Mosby. I am quite occupied as the president of a small college. And, anyway, according to Washington, I am no longer even a citizen of this country.  

MOSBY: As you wish, Sir. But there is no one held in higher esteem than yourself, General. Either North or South.  

LEE: (He glances at PICKETT.) If not such a fallacy, that would be a tragic perception. (He again turns away from his guests.)  

MOSBY: Enough of the bloody politics then … ! (Unable to ignore PICKETT, although perhaps wishing he could.) George, I hate to stir up any more controversy, but I must ask – how the devil is business?  

PICKETT: (He does not immediately respond.) Business is the devil, Sir. At least so far as I am concerned.  

MOSBY: Even the insurance business?  

PICKETT: All of it.  

MOSBY: I see … (Although remaining good-natured, he has begun to feel exasperated by the hopelessness of his role as moderator.) Did I mention that General Lee and Miss Agnes are on the eve of an extended trip throughout the old Confederacy? (LEE has crossed to the small table from which he picks up a leather-bound volume.) Is it as far as old Spanish Florida that you plan to travel, Sir? (LEE nods.) Yes, quite…He and Miss Agnes shall ride at least part of the way in one of the new Pullman Cars. Yes? We are told that it is the very lap of luxury – a virtual hotel suite like this one mounted upon rolling stock, no less. Can you imagine? (No one speaks.) Have you ever seen one of these Pullman Cars, George? (PICKETT shakes his head.) No … ? Well, they are said to be a true glimpse of the future … all “Enlightened Progress.” (Again, no one else speaks. A decent but very impulsive man, now no longer willing or able to bear any more of the tension in the room, he suddenly stands and regards his pocket watch with seeming great concern.) Gentlemen, although always reluctant to be the one to end any social call, I nonetheless have to say –  

LEE: (Interjecting.) I do wonder what could be keeping Miss Agnes for so long. She is sure to return at any moment.  

MOSBY: General Lee, it is forever an honor and a privilege to be in your presence. But the exigencies of time for an unreconstructed old Partisan Ranger seeking to make his way safely in the Reconstructed South make my withdrawal now rather mandatory. (PICKETT stands.)  

LEE: I wish not to impede your schedule, Colonel. If necessary, your direction would seem to be a proper course, if not too difficult.  

MOSBY: (Crossing to LEE.) Never too difficult, General. (They shake hands.) To you and your lovely daughter, I wish you a bon voyage. And good health to you, Sir.  

LEE: And to you and yours, Colonel Mosby.  

MOSBY: (Moving towards the front door.) Keep a tight rein on all your young college boys, General. But not too tight. (He winks, and dons his hat at a rakish angle.)  

LEE: Most are veterans, Colonel.  

MOSBY: And we need them all. (He crosses to the front door and exits.)  

LEE: (He cannot help but smile at MOSBY, then quietly.) Yes, indeed all of our veterans are needed. That is one thing for certain. (He then turns to PICKETT.) General Pickett …  

PICKETT: General Lee. (Stiffening slightly.) Please offer my regards and a fond farewell to Miss Agnes.  

LEE: That I shall do. Thank you, Sir. (PICKETT turns to leave.) And, General –  

PICKETT: (Turning back.) Yes, Sir?  

LEE: Please be good enough to convey the expression of my very best wishes to your lovely wife Lasalle.  

PICKETT: I shall indeed. Sally will appreciate that very much.  

LEE: And to your young sons … my best wishes also.  

PICKETT: (If only fleetingly, the set of his features relaxes.) Thank you, Sir. And to you … I now bid adieu.  

LEE: General – (Able to hold PICKETT by the tone of his voice, his posture nevertheless remains rigid and formal.) Do you remember Mexico?  

PICKETT: Mexico, General? How ever could one forget Mexico?  

LEE: Vaya con Dios, General Pickett. May you go with God …  

PICKETT: And you as well, Sir. (He turns quickly and exits, closing the door behind him.)  

Left standing alone, LEE slowly crosses back to the small table. Before picking up the book once again, he produces from his coat pocket a pair of spectacles which he carefully balances upon his nose. Opening the volume to what must be a marked passage, he regards it intently – but only briefly. Without warning, he suddenly closes it with a movement of unexpected vigor. Although seeming about to slam the book down upon the table, he hesitates, then places it there and lays his spectacles atop it. Seeming thoughtful but almost agonized, LEE’s movement is interrupted when he grasps his head and appears nearly consumed by the effort to contain the convulsion of an inner, silent scream. His face contorts with the anguish of a rush of pain which comes from deep within himself. Able to regain control only by a slow walk to the window and the strength of his own will, he is more composed, but seemingly exhausted, by the time he completes his cross to the sofa. Once there he is unable to do anything beyond sitting slowly, and allowing his head to fall back as if he were asleep. Sighing audibly, he does not move until a knock is heard. As he manages to sit up, the front door opens and AGNES enters rather hurriedly.  

AGNES: Oh, Father … ! Richmond will never be Europe! It’s not even Baltimore – and I even used your name! I know you’ve asked me not to – (Looking around, surprised.) Why, Papa – where are the Gentlemen?  

LEE: (Slowly.) They have had to depart.  

AGNES: But gone so soon? Why, they – (She crosses immediately to the sofa and sits beside her father.) Papa, what is it? What is the matter? Are you alright?  

LEE: Yes, yes … I am fine, my Dear.  

AGNES: Is it the pain? Is it the pain in your chest?  

LEE: No, Mademoiselle. No … The good doctors and your nursing skills have made the old man quite comfortable. Probably too comfortable … (A formal sort of knock is heard at the door.) Oh, Agie, please … Whomever it is, send them away. No matter who it is this time. I cannot …  

AGNES: Oh, my stars … (Getting quickly to her feet and crossing to the front door.) And where was the speed of the hotel staff when they were needed? (She turns back to LEE, then exits, closing the door. LEE slumps heavily against the sofa, stifling an audible sigh. He appears asleep when she reenters.) But they are nice people. Ready and willing to render service to provide for any and all of our needs. Perhaps it is just as well that they were so tardy with our libations. (Looking pointedly at him.) Would that be true?  

LEE: Perhaps.  

AGNES: Now then. What happened here?  

LEE: Nothing. Nothing happened.  

AGNES: There was a great deal of tension even before I left. It was something about the war, wasn’t it? Of course – that damned war!  

LEE: (Caught off-guard by her intensity.) Agie!  

AGNES: I should have known. It was about Gettysburg, wasn’t it? Gettysburg … I can still feel it in the room, Father. (Musing aloud.) My God … George Pickett has become such a tragic figure. And he tries so hard to still be the gentleman and “the Gallant One.” (Taking a breath.) Tell me, Papa, please … just when do the old wounds stop bleeding? Does it ever happen?  

LEE: (Calmly.) I know not. Nor can I but wonder for how many years it shall be that when we are forced use that term – “the war” – there can only be one meaning, and that it is understood without question that we refer to that recent bitter struggle which …  

AGNES: I am sure I do not know.  

LEE: … which so devastated our country.  

AGNES: It will not change in my lifetime. That is a certainty.  

LEE: (Beginning a familiar rumination.) Look at Europe now. Nations are destroying nations, using the very sciences of warfare which we here developed to destroy each other. And the techniques are being refined. Made even more deadly.  

AGNES: (Shortly.) I have told you, I do not care.  

LEE: Surely you do. You must. I know you.  

AGNES: (Suddenly, urgently.) I do not care about the troubles in Europe! And I don’t care about the past! I care only about the welfare of my family, and my Father’s delicate constitution, and the restoration of his health! And the fact that we are about to embark upon a very long journey of many days, and many miles, and that we need be rested, and not anxious. And that there be no additional furrows graven upon that noble brow. (Then, smiling. ) And finally, good Sir – I care that you behave.  

LEE: (Having been respectful of her litany.) I have but one question.  

AGNES: Only one?

LEE: Just one. This time …  

AGNES: And that is?  

LEE: Have I still the time for a little siesta?  

AGNES: Time aplenty, Father dear. In fact, I too fully intend to enter that other room myself, and put up my dainty feet, and rest in the blissful modus of some ancient Hindu goddess. Now, may I help you to your room, Sir?  

LEE: No thank you, Dear.  

AGNES: Alright then … just so long as you complete your siesta, Señor. (She lovingly kisses him on the forehead and begins to leave.)  

LEE: Agnes –  

AGNES: Yes?  

LEE: Agie, if it is agreed indeed that God does in fact bless men through the goodness of their children, then truly … I am to be considered the very richest of mortals.  

AGNES: Oh, Papa. I do pray you are not telling me now that you are one of those dastardly mortals. (With a girlish turn, she crosses to her room.)  

LEE: Alas, I fear it must be so … (She exits smiling, closing the door behind her.) Oh, God … how I do know it to be so.  

As he stares away, LEE is left sitting alone. The lights fade out, and the music of Vivaldi comes up. Not long after a complete blackout, the lights come up full and bright on MOSBY and PICKETT as the music fades away. The two men are outside, on a Richmond street somewhere near the front of the Exchange Hotel. Having just left the Lees’ rooms, it becomes apparent that they have not spoken a word since their departure. The manner in which they are standing offers a momentary sort of tableau – but that changes quickly with a sudden movement by MOSBY.  

MOSBY: Goddamn it, Pickett! (He throws his hat to the ground.)  

PICKETT: I can only apologize, Colonel.  

MOSBY: Damn it, George – I don’t want your apologies! You caused me to walk into a trap. It was like being in hell up there! Pure hell. And you allowed it to happen – you sparked it. You set me up for it, George.  

PICKETT: How many ways are there to say that you are entirely correct, to say that I agree with you completely?  

MOSBY: (Holding up a finger.) Just one! (Something in PICKETT’s look causes the impetuous MOSBY to have his compassion and respect revived. He lowers his hand, and bends to retrieve his hat from the ground.) Tell me what the devil is going on, George. (Brushing off his hat, he places it back upon his head.) Why did you not even warn me of your intentions?  

PICKETT: I had no intentions, I swear. I had no expectation of anything bad happening. My control, my constraint, all simply … evaporated. It was completely unintentional, I assure you. Even now, I cannot explain exactly what happened up there, Colonel. (Still somewhat shaken.) I just don’t know …  

MOSBY: I know what happened! The tension between you two was so bloody explosive it caused me nearly to burst – and don’t call me “Colonel.” What I want to know is – why?  

PICKETT: You are a lawyer. I have no defense. I would only ask that you give some credence to “the rumors.”  

MOSBY: The rumors? What damned rumors? Rumors are useful for nothing.  

PICKETT: It is said that George Pickett left the better part of his mind in the deep hole of the mass graves filled full of the poor boys he left up in Gettysburg.  

MOSBY: Now see here, George, I like you. And I care about you. And we are friends –  

PICKETT: Gettysburg …  

MOSBY: Look here, George –  

PICKETT: And Five Forks …  

MOSBY: General Pickett, please … spare us any more of self-pity. It is beneath your character, Sir. I know that. So be rid of it.  

PICKETT: Of course you are right. (Pausing.) I just knew … that I had to see him. When you and I met, and you told me he was here, I simply had to see him. To see him … for the first time since war’s end … (He shrugs.) But for some reason, I became … fearful.  

MOSBY: Fearful – you? Fearful of what?  

PICKETT: Fearful of being alone with him.  

MOSBY: Well, you were definitely right about that!

PICKETT: So I asked you to come back with me. I’m now sorry that I did.  

MOSBY: So am I. (Sympathetically.) But come along now, General. (He puts a hand on

PICKETT’s shoulder.) We have both been in worse scrapes than this.  

PICKETT: Perhaps …  

MOSBY: We are all old soldiers here. Comrades … It is simply intolerable to observe and absorb such pain and stress between two that I love. (Crossing to a nearby bench.) God damn those Yankees! (He sits.) Again! (Laughing at his own joke.)  

PICKETT: (Smiling.) He surely shall – again!  

MOSBY: It is all so sad. And so damnably late. The Old Man really does not look well at all, does he? Certainly not like the Apollo we knew during the war. Poor old Bobby Lee … He left too many shards and shreds of that bold heart on too many fields. For too many bloody years.  

PICKETT: Didn’t we all?  

MOSBY: So it would seem. (He gives him a look but does not directly respond.) You know, George, I must say that all that talk about Canada and Montreal put me in mind of the fact that whenever I think of General Lee I cannot help but be reminded of old Montcalm.  

PICKETT: Montcalm? The Marquis, of the Battle for Quebec?  

MOSBY: None other. (He rises from the bench.) The image of the brave, dying Montcalm breathing his last on the hallowed Plains of Abraham … What was it they said of him … ? (He now quotes.) “Fate denied him victory, but blessed him with a glorious immortality…” How can one not think the same of General Lee? Ah, well … C’est la guerre.  

PICKETT: (Tense again.) How romantic.  

MOSBY: So you don’t agree with the comparison?  

PICKETT: That I agree or disagree does not matter one whit.  

MOSBY: Speak your mind, Pickett. What is it that you are trying saying?  

PICKETT: I’m not trying to say anything, John.  

MOSBY: It seems that maybe you are.  

PICKETT: (Icily.) You were not there, Colonel.  

MOSBY: Where – Gettysburg?  

PICKETT: Yes! Gettysburg …  

MOSBY: For God’s sake, Man –  

PICKETT: Never mind! (He walks away.)  

MOSBY: It matters not a tinker’s damn wherever I was, George. We were all of us there – somewhere.    

PICKETT: (Suddenly turning back to face MOSBY.) You fought your war, and you fought it well. But even if you were not there –  

MOSBY: –  I was damned well close enough!  

PICKETT: Even if you were not there … on that day – do you not remember? Can you not remember?  

MOSBY: What! – remember what, George?  

PICKETT: General Lee … that old man … (He must pause before he can continue.) That old man had my Division slaughtered at Gettysburg. That is what I remember.  

MOSBY: (At a loss for words for one of the few times in a long and notable career.) Well, Pickett … after all will have been said and done … it did make you immortal.  

With little more left to ever be said, and with this left to history from MOSBY’s own account, there is silence; and the poses and positions of the two men once again become a simple tableau, and we hear the music of Vivaldi, and the lights fade to a …  

BLACKOUT

 

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