xt7gms3jx86n https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7gms3jx86n/data/mets.xml Fitch, Clyde, 1865-1909. 19201915  books b92-267-31959121v2 English Little, Brown, : Boston : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Brummell, Beau, 1778-1840 Drama. Hale, Nathan, 1755-1776 Drama. Frietchie, Barbara, 1766-1862 Drama.Moses, Montrose Jonas, 1878-1934. Gerson, Virginia. Plays  / by Clyde Fitch ; edited, with an introd., by Montrose J. Moses and Virginia Gerson. (vol. 2) text Plays  / by Clyde Fitch ; edited, with an introd., by Montrose J. Moses and Virginia Gerson. (vol. 2) 1920 2002 true xt7gms3jx86n section xt7gms3jx86n 

      Omorial Ebition


       VOLUME Two


'4                     '4              44


                    4                      44444
                    '444 44'



                  QUIET CORNER

The Horne of Clyde Fitch. Greenwich Township. Connecticut


5&morial KIbition



           VOLUME Two
          THE CLIMBERS




        Copyngih, 9gr5,



  IN " Barbara Frietchie " and " Captain Jinks
of the Horse Marines ", Mr. Fitch continued the
picturesque historical vein, so successfully begun
in "Beau Brummell ", "Fr6deric Lemaitre",
"His Grace de Grammont" and "(Nathan Hale."
his love of a period was not an artificial taste
with him; he had the inestimable ability of
absorbing atmosphere, and of giving to his
detail little intimate touches which resulted in
realism amidst romantic action. And even
though there is such wide contrast between the
first two plays in this volume and "The
Climbers ", one can easily detect in "Captain
Jinks ", for example, characteristic flashes fore-
shadowing the satirist of the later social plays.
  It is not so easy a matter to re-create a period
convincingly, however picturesque the details
and however romantic the plot. Mr. Fitch's
inventions were always entertaining. But it
was because of his ability to make himself a
part of the time, place, and manner, that his



scenes breathed a reality which gave them life.
"Barbara Frietchie" has an intimate touch of
the South during the Civil War, without being
flamboyantly  colored. " Captain Jinks -as
excellent in technique as Sir Arthur Wing
Pinero's "Trelawny of the 'Wells' ", and ex-
celling Mr. Edward Sheldon's later attempt, in
"Romance", to embody the old-time flavor of
New York city,-revealed, without effort or pose,
that intimacy and contemporaneousness which
are to be found in some old Journal, written by
an eye-witness. In such achievements as these
"costume" plays, Mr. Fitch showed exceptional
ability, and won popular distinction.
  "Barbara Frietchie" deals delicately with the
love romance of Mr. Fitch's mother and father.
In plot it is simple, and it is theatrically effective,
as well as theatrically reflective of all the excite-
ment of war, without the panoply of war. As
soon as it was announced that Miss Julia Marlowe
would appear in the historical r6le, the papers
began to speculate as to how the dramatist would
handle the subject. " They've begun already
to scold me about lying," Fitch wrote to some
friend. Naturally, it would have been impossible
for him to gain much romantic interest by keep-
ing his heroine an old woman, to accord with
historical tradition. A concession had to be




granted him at the very outset. But there are
always exact critics who can allow a dramatist
no latitude; and even before " Barbara Frietchie "
was produced, Mr. Fitch found himself opposed
by the Press. This necessitated his printing on
his program a disclaimer as to the historical exact-
ness of his situation, and declaring his sole ambi-
tion to picture the spirit and atmosphere of a
particular period, through a delicate, imaginary
story. Both the playwright and the actress
were amply rewarded. Some of Mr. Fitch's
severest critics could not but recognize in "Bar-
bara Frietchie" much ingenuity and much
cumulative effect. In the preparations for the
production of this play he exhibited the same
particularity, as regards costuming and stage
setting, that marked his "Nathan Hale."
  It was generally the case with Clyde Fitch
that he based the story of his play on some defi-
nite incident or situation brought to his notice
or coming under his direct observation. From a
mere suggestion he would often gradually evolve
his plot. But " Captain Jinks " was inspired
purely by his love for an historical period. And
we believe that its source of being lay entirely
in the fact that he had often declared his interest
in the manners and customs of i872. The real
seeds for this play, in which Miss Ethel Barry-




more gained her first distinction as a " star",
are to be found in the popular songs, "Shoo fly!
Don't bother me", and "I'm  Captain Jinks of
the Horse Marines."
  " The Climbers" marks a definite departure
on the part of the playwright, both in technique
and in approach. When Professor Brander
Matthews was asked to open the Fitch Memorial
Lectureship on the Drama, established at Amherst
College by the dramatist's mother - during one
of the discourses, he said in substance: The
historical is not the highest form of drama. An
author knows best the contemporary life imme-
diately about him, and can deal with it easily.
But for historical setting, he must reach the
ideals through research and reading, and often
his estimates are not accurate, and often they
are devoid of spontaneity. The drama, based on
contemporary life, in time takes on an historical
value. In this way, Clyde Fitch's "The Climbers"
will be a definite document to the social historians
of the next century. It has the same grasp of
existing conditions that is manifested in Howells's
"The Rise of Silas Lapham " and in Mark Twain's
"Life on the Mississippi."
  In other words, Mr. Fitch's most distinctive
and his most mature vein began to assert itself
in this play - his vein of the commonplace raised



              PREFATORY NOTE                ix

to a height of refreshing satire, which was bril-
liant and unusual. In fact, the very unusual-
ness of the opening scene resulted in "The
Climbers" being sent travelling from manager's
office to manager's office before Miss Amelia
Bingham accepted it, and assembled around her
a brilliant company for its production.
  This change in interest, which now marked the
work of the playwright, began to find expression
in his comments on the theatre. " The plays
that have lasted," Mr. Fitch once wrote, "are
valuable to us as literature and as documents.
Technique never has kept a play alive through
the centuries. Technique alone is machinery,
and we improve all machinery year by year.
Outside of their literature, many of Shakespeare's
plays are documents of hourly life and manners
in the days of Elizabeth, and if you are interested
in knowing what life was in town and country
before and during the Restoration, read Wycher-
ley, Congreve, Beaumont and Fletcher. You
will find there the small human document you
won't get out of history, per se. So Sheridan re-
produces the social Georgian era, Oscar Wilde
the late Victorian, and in France, Lavadan, Her-
vieu, and Capus are giving the Paris and France
of the twentieth century for future generations
to reproduce for themselves, if they wish.



  " I feel myself very strongly the particular
value - a value which, rightly or wrongly, I
cannot help feeling inestimable - in a modern
play of reflecting absolutely and truthfully the
life and environment about us; every class,
every kind, every emotion, every motive, every
occupation, every business, every idleness!
Never was life so varied, so complex; what a
choice, then! Take what strikes you most, in
the hope it will interest others. Take what
suits you most to do - what perhaps you can
do best -and then do it better. Be truthful,
and then nothing can be too big, nothing should
be too small, so long as it is here, and there!
Apart from the question of literature, apart
from the question of art, reflect the real thing,
with true observation and with sincere feeling
for what it is and what it represents, and that is
art and literature in a modern play. If you
inculcate an idea in your play, so much the better
for your play and for you -and for your au-
dience. In fact, there is small hope for your
play as a play, if you haven't some small idea in
it somewhere and somehow, even if it is hidden
- it is sometimes better for you if it is hidden,
but it must of course be integral. Some ideas
are mechanical. Then they are no good. These
are the ideas for which the author does all the




work, instead of letting the ideas do the work
for him. One should write what one sees; but
observe under the surface. It is a mistake to
look at the reflection of the sky in the water of
theatrical convention.  Instead, look up and
into the sky of real life itself."
  Writing from Carlsbad, on June 13, 9goo, Mr.
Fitch said, " I finished 'The Climbers' today, and
I think the last act may be the best thing I've
done. I feel this act has something in it besides
the theatre!"  When the play was first pro-
duced, he was accused of bad taste in the dress-
selling scene, and the general critical opinion
was that such a situation could never have
happened among that "set" of people. But,
as a matter of fact, the incident did actually occur
in New York city, and no sooner was it told
to Mr. Fitch than he used it with an unerring
sense of its dramatic effectiveness.
                       MONTROSE J. MOSES,
                       VIRGINIA GERSON.
JULY, 1915.


 This page in the original text is blank.



PREFATORY NOTE                               V

BARBARA FRIETCHIE..             .         I


THE CLIMBERS.                         . 459

 This page in the original text is blank.






                         COPYRIGHT, 1900,


                      ALL RIGHTS RESERVRD

  This play is fully protected bythe copyright law, all requirements of
which have been complied with. In its present printed form it is dedi-
cated to the reading public only, and no performance of it, either pro-
fessional or amateur, may be given without the written permission of
the owner of the acting rights, who may be addressed in care of the
publishers, Little, Brown, and Company.



  How much Barbara and I both owe to you!
You crept into her very heart (and mine !), and
like the Good Fairy at the birth of the Princess,
endowed her with her best gift, your own Per-
sonal Charm ! How grateful I am I will try to
prove by giving her to you after you yourself
have made her dear to me.
                           CLYDE FITCH.
  NEW YORK, 1900.

 This page in the original text is blank.



THE FIRST ACT. A Street in Frederick.
                    After Supper.

THE SECOND ACT. The Lutheran Minister's House in
                 7he FolZow7ing Day.

THE THIRD ACT. The 1Frietchie house in Fredecrick.
                  Two Days Later.

                 Ahe Neast Aforniwtg.
    THE SECOND SCE:NE. The Strcet.

  The author disclaims any intention to the writing of an
historical play. Ile has endeavored merely to picture in an
imaginary story some of the spirit and atmosphere of a cer-
tain period of our history, using the personality of BARBARA
FRIETCHIE as best lending itself to his purpose.

 This page in the original text is blank.



TiM GREENE    Soldiers.
A Boy.

                The Period it 5863.

 This page in the original text is blank.


  As originally produced at the Broad Street
Theatre, Philadelphia, October IO, 1899, and
two weeks later at the Criterion Theatre, New

Barbara Frietchie
Sally Negly
Sue Royce .
Laura Royce
Mrs. Hunter
Mammy Lu
Capt. Trumbull
Mr. Frietchie.
Arthur Frietchie
Col. Negly. .
Jack Negly
Fred Gelwex
Tim Greene
Edgar Strong.
Dr. Hal Boyd
Sergt. James
Corpl. Perkins
Orderly .
A Boy .

. .  . . .  . .  .   . JuliaMarlowe
                 .Katherine Wilson
.. . . . . . . . Norah Lamison
. .  . . .  . .  .   .. . lMary Blyth
                      Annie Clarke
. . .  . .  . .  .    . Alice Leigh
. . . . .        ... .  J. H. Gilmour
                  George Woodward
. . .  . .  . .  .   . Lionel Adams
. . .  . .  . .    . W. J. LeMoyne
. . .  . .  . .  .    . Arnold Daly
                    Dodson Mitchell
                    Becton Radford
                 .Donald MacLaren
                    Algernon Tassin
                       Frank Colfax
. ..   . .. . . . . Ralph Lewis
. . . . . .   . .  . .   1H. Phillips
                      Byron Ongley

          Soldiers, Townspeople and Children.
                 The Period is r86j.
  The scenery was painted by Mr. E. G. Unitt. The cos.
tumes were designed by Miss Virginia Gerson.
  Miss Marlowe and her company were presented in the
play under the direction of Mr. Charles Frohman.

 This page in the original text is blank.




Across the brick pavement, three houses stand facing

  us, two of red with white trimmings in the early

  Colonial style of architecture, the other house,

  on our Right, of wood, painted brown, and placed

  back from the street, with a small garden and a

  picket fence. In the garden is a round bed of

  scarlet geraniums, and a honeysuckle vine grows

  over the front door. The street turns a corner

  around the garden, where a big lilac bush grows.

  The centre house belongs to the FRIETCHIES, and

  over its steps is a balcony, supported on four

  Corinthian columns in wood, painted white.

  The windows of all the houses in the street are




  open, and there are lamps lit in many of the lower

  rooms. The house wit/i the garden belongs to

  the Royce family; the house on the left is the

  home of COL. NEGLY, his son and daughter.

The theatre is darkened, and "Dixie" is played

  once by the orchestra.  Then the curtain rises

  slowly and softly without orchestral music.

It is the starry twilight of a languorous Summer

  night, and the air is tremulous and full of the

  scent of honeysuckle and jasmine. On the steps

  of the Frietchie house sit two girls, LAURA and

  SUE ROYCE. They are pretty, rather thoughtless

  young creatures, but sweet-tempered and warm-

  hearted. They wear soft, light dresses, open at

  the neck, and are bare-armed.     Through an

  open window BARBARA is heard at the piano

  singing  "Kathleen  Mavourneen."   The light

  on the stage is soft and dim. On the farther



              BARBARA FRIETCHIIE             I3

  stoop sit SALLY NEGLY and EDGAR STRONG, (I

  young couple in the heyday of a " boy-and-girl "

  flirtation. BARBARA finishes the first verse of

  "Kathleen AMavourneen," and LAURA, joining

  in softly, sings the last line with her. BARBARA,

  after a moment's strumming, begins singing a

  second verse. Two small children run past,

  playing hide-and-go-seek.  Hearing BARBARA,

  they stop to listen beneath her window, holding

  hands, till she finishes "Kathleen," when they

  romp away, continuing their sport.

  SuE. [Calls across to the Negly steps.] Sally!

  LAURA. [Leaning over and touching SUE.] Sh!

She's got a beau with her.

  SUE. No, it's her brother! [MAMMY Lu,

a dear old colored woman, comes down the street

with a market basket, and passes through the gate

into the Royce house. LAURA turns her head



and watches the Negly steps. SUE calls again.]


  SALLY. What

  SUE. Come on over on our steps.

  SALLY. I can't; I'm not alone!

  LAURA. [Turning her head back to SUE.] I told

you  so.  [The two girls titter.]   It's Edgar


  [SUE joins in with BARBARA and sings with her.

    SALLY and STRONG are seen rising on their

    steps. She follows him coyly to the bottom step,

    where they linger over a tender good-by. She

    fastens a spray of honeysuckle from her dress

    into the lapel of his coat. He starts to go, but

    stops at the corner of the steps and they say

    good-by once more.

  LAURA. He's going!

          [Craning her neck to see surreptitiously.


            BARBARA FRIETCHIIE              I

  SUE. I wonder if he'll pass here

  [BARBARA, having finished "Kathleen Mavour-

    neen, " sings " Maryland, My Maryland. "

    STRONG, leaving SALLY, who goes into her

    house, comes slowly past the other girls, going

    down the street. A short distance from SALLY'S

    steps, he turns and looks back, but she has gone

    in. He comes on, absorbed, unconscious of the

    presence of SUE and LAURA, and passes them.

    SUE and LAURA both " ahem I " pointedly.

    He doesn't hear them, and turns the Royce
    corner. The two girls titter.

  LAURA. [Laughing.] Sally's got a real stylish

beau, hasn't she 

  [A pause. The girls lean back against the rail-

    ings, fanning themselves.

  SUE. [Getting up.] Is Barbara going to sing

the whole evening Why doesn't she come out



on  the steps   [She leans over the railing,

trying to look into the Frietchie parlor window.

She calls.] Barbara!

  [A light is seen in an upper window of SALLY'S


  LAURA. Sb! She's very sentimental to-night,

and it's not Jack Negly either.

  SUE. [Turning and leaning with her back against

the railing.] Who, then

  LAURA. Captain Trumbull -

  SUE. The Yankee! Law! what a flirt she is!

Why, Jack Negly's been her acknowledged beaul

  LAURA. You needn't talk! You're younger'n

Barbara and have had twice as many beaux as

she already!

  [BARBARA, having finished "Maryland, My

    Maryland," sings "Listen to the Mocking



            BARBARA FRIETCHIE               17

  SUE. Oh! if you call walking out to the ceme-

tery every evening with one fellow making him

your beau! But Barbara's been caught within a

week down the Hagerstown pike with two different

men's arms about her.

  LAURA. Well, I reckon you wish you could be

caught like that!

  SUE. [Laughing good-naturedly.] Yes, indeedy,

I shouldn't mind a bit!

  [Sitting down on the top step.  The two girls

    again subside into silence. BARBARA'S voice

    steals out sweetly through the open windows

    with the "Mocking Bird" refrain. A young

    couple, arm in arm, stroll absorbedly past, on

    their way back from the usual Lovers' [Walk of

    the town - where the willows weep and hearts

    stop beating underneath cool white marble




  SALLY. [Calls, leaning out of her uindow up-

stairs.] Girls, are you there yet

  LAURA. Yes.

  SUE. Come on down.

          [SALLY closes the blinds and disappears.

  LAURA. [Calls.] Barbara!

  BARBARA. [Inside.] Well

  LAURA. Sally Negly's coming over!

  BARBARA. [Inside.] Glad it's not her brother/

  [Runs her hand over all the piano keys from base

    to treble.

  SUE. Oh, my! Isn't she airy! [She looks

down the street.] Here comes Hal Boyd.
  LAURA. What do I care!

                             [Tossing her head.

  SUE. Oh, what a fine tail our cat's got!

You seemed to care a good deal at the picnic last



            BARBARA FRIETCHIE               Io

  LAURA. You needn't throw any stones! You

were in a glass house at the picnic yourself -

with Arthur Frietchie. Which way is he coming

            [Looking slyly up and down the street.

  SUE. He isn't! I was only making believe -

  LAURA. [Laughing in spite of herself.] Oh, you

mean thing!

  SALLY. [WP'ho has come out from her house, joins

them. She is perhaps more vivacious than the

other two. About the wrists of her bare arms she

has tied little black velvet bows. It is well known

in Frederick that once upon a time she really slapped

a young man who kissed her against her will.J

Why isn't Barbara out

  SUE. [Very pointedly.] No men here yet!

  SALLY. Jack's coming right over.

                      [Sitting on the lowest step.

  SUE. [Calls.] Barbara, Jack's coming over!



  BARBARA. [Inside, emphatically, and accom-

panying herself with chords upon the piano.]

Not at home !

  [She begins singing "Her Bright Smile Haunts

    MIe Still." The Three Graces on the steps

    exchange glances.

  SALLY. That's just how she treats Jack now!

  LAURA. And every one's talking about Barbara

and that ornry Yankee!

  SUE. I don't think he's ornry; I think he's


  SALLY. He's your enemy and you ought to hate

him! I shan't have anything more to do with

Bab if she doesn't stop seeing Captain Trumbull.

  SUE. He has a lovely mustache.

  SALLY. It isn't the mustache that makes the


  [N. B. - EDGAR STRONG'S face is very smooth.]



  [JACK comes out of the Negly house and ap-

    proaches. He is a handsome young fellow of

    twenty. He was a harum-scarum boy, and he

    is a lovable, impetuous youth, with his heart

    on his sleeve.

  LAURA. Barbara's a true Southern girl; I

don't understand her having him around.

  Su-E. Good evening, Jack. Oh, my, isn't it


                   [They all exchange a greeting.

  JACK. [Stands directly in front of the steps, hi's

back to the audience.] Where's Barbara

                   [All three motion to the parlor.

  LAURA. Don't you hear her

  JACK. [Calls.] Barbara!

  [She stops singing a moment to hear who is speak-

    ing. JACK repeats " Barbara!"   She at once

    begins singing again emphatically, pointedly.

2 r



    He goes up the steps between the girls, and,

    standing on the top step, calls more loudly.

  JACK. Barbara!

  LAURA. She hears you!

  JACK. I must see you.

  BARBARA. [Inside.] I'm not at home - to

cowards I

  [A moment's silence. JACK stands hurt. SALLY

    rises and seizes her brother's hand, saying

    "Jack !"  BARBARA   begins singing again.

    Then JACK quickly and firmly enters the house,

    and, a moment after, BARBARA'S singing ends


  SALLY. [Eagerly.] Would it be wrong to


  SUE. [Standing up as near to the window as she

can and leaning far over the railing, listens hard.]

Decidedly I And, anyway, I can't hear a word.




[She comes down from her listening position and

   sits again on the steps. Two Union Soldiers

   stroll down the street, one smoking, the other

   with a rose between his teeth. As they pass

   the Frietchic stoop the girls stop speaking.

 SALLY. Yankees!

 [The girls on the lower steps swish their dresses up

    out of the way of contamination. The soldier

    with a rose, to tease the Southern young ladies,

    throws the flower at LAURA. She plucks it

    from her dress, where it falls, and throws it

    after him  with a loud "Eeh !" of disgust,

    and at once the three girls together begin

    singing "Dixie" with unmistakable emphasis,

    till the laughing soldiers are out of hearing.

  SALLY. [Sitting beside LAURA.] I wish Bab

would be Jack's sweetheart for good and all.

We can't do anything with him home now. He




locks himself up for whole days, and answers.so

queerly sometimes when you speak to him!

Mother cries about it.

  SUE. Did Bab ever lead him on

  SALLY. Well, at our Soldiers' Ball she danced

every schottische with him!

  LAURA. She's mad because he won't fight for

the South.

  SALLY. She's no right to be mad with him for

that, when she's flirting with a Yankee.

  SUE. And while they're in possession of our

town, too!

  SALLY. I wish her brother were here.

  SUE. [Rising proudly.] Yes, he wouldn't allow


  [Leaning over again to try and listen. The other

    two girls exchange amused glances at SUE'S



            BARBARA FRJETCHIIE             25

  SALLY. Of course you think Arthur Frietchie

wouldn't allow anything!

  SUE. [Trying to listen.] Well, Arthur Friet-

chie's with Stonewall Jackson, brave boy! And

that's more than you can say for your beau.

  SALLY. The only reason Edgar Strong didn't

go was, I said I'd never speak to him again if he


  SUE. I said that to Arthur, and he said he'd

have to go all the same. But I kept my word;

I didn't speak to him!

  SALLY. What did you do

  SUE. Hugged and kissed him!

  LAURA. The whole town is angry about Barbara.

All the vestrymen of our church were at the house,

this afternoon, begging Mr. Frietchie to forbid

Barbara's seeing Captain Trumbull any more.

  SUE. Bab adores her father. I wonder what



would happen if she were called on to choose

between the two [There is a sudden loud dis-

cord on the piano.  The girls look up, LAURA

and SALLY rising.] Gracious! There must be

a row !

  [All three, with their arms linked about each other,

    lean over the side railing, trying to overhear.

  BARBARA. [Inside.] Oh! How dare you! how

dare you!

  UACK'S voice is heard, strained and harsh, as if

    speaking beyond his control.

  JACK. [Inside.] Very well; I'll go to the War.

Do you hear me, Bab I'll go and fight if you

want it! I'll go I But not to fight for my

country; understand that To fight him! To

kill this damned Northerner who has taken you

from  me! You! Barbara Frietchie, whom      I

love better than the South, better than my life!




  [The three girls on the stoop are frightened.

    After a moment's silence, the front door is

    flung back, and JACK comes out, leaving the

    door wide open. He looks wild and is With-

    out his hat.  The positions of the girls on

    the steps block his way.

  JACK. Out of my way! Damn all women!

  [The girls, frightened, make way for him, SALLY

    seizing hold of him by the arm lo stop him.

  SALLY. Jack!

  JACK. [As if he did not recognize her and shaking

himself roughly free.] Let go!

                       [He strides down the steps.

  SALLY. Jack!

  JACK. [At the bottom of the steps, turns and looks

at the three girls, who, frightened, cling together.

He speaks bitterly.]  The Three Graces! Ha, ha!

That's what some sentimental idiots would call




you! But the witches from "Macbeth" are what

you are! Ha, ha, ha!   Liars! cheats! hags! all

of you!

  [Laughs again as he goes off down the street past

    his house. BARBARA has come out of the door

    as he finishes speaking, and stands on the top

    step. As he goes, she speaks after him in a

    voice, angry and excited, yet with a certain

    girlish dignity.

  BARBARA. Call us what you like, but remember

that we women love the man we honor and give

our lips to the man we love!

  [BARBARA is a ravishing young creature, who has

    more or less willingly " upset " most of the

    youth of the town. A loose, delightful curl

    of her wavy, dark hair lies on her white neck,

    held in place by a red-pink camellia. Her

    eyes are large and beautiful and she does what


            BARBARA FRIETCHIE               29

    she likes with them. Her soul is awakening

    within her, however, and her coquetry has seen

    its best days. She is dressed in a billowy mass

    of blue gauziness, bare neck, save for a blue

    cameo, and bare arms, save for two lovely dim-

    ples. Another camellia, the color of her lips, is

    caught at her waist. A bit of a black ankle-strap

    shows above a tiny triangle of white stocking.

  SALLY. Barbara, don't mind what he says.

  BARBARA. [Still indignant.] I never gave your

brother the right to speak so to me!

  SALLY. [Still trying to pacify.] He doesn't

know what he says.

  BARBARA. How dared he!

  [Rearranging the short sleeves of her dress,

    disarranged by JACK'S unwelcome embrace.

  SALLY. Bab, he's out of his head for love of

you! Can't you love him



  BARBARA. [Sitting on the top step.] You can't

make yourself love, Sally.

  SALLY. Yes, you can. I could love anybody!

                        [Sitting below BARBARA.

  SUE. You do! You love everybody!

    [Sitting beside BARBARA. They all laugh gaily.

  BARBARA. No, seriously, girls; love is a wilful,

adorable child that teases you till you give him

his own way.

  LAURA. [Sitting on the lower step.] Love is a

saint that stands always by you and blesses you

when you find and know him.

  SALLY. Love is a magician that can make

hearts change places in a second. Presto chango!

mine's in -

  BBABAA. [Interrupting laughingly, and taking

her hand.] Yours is in Edgar Strong's breast and

his heart takes its place.


           BARBARA FRIETCHIIE            3r

  SuE. Love isn't Cupid really. He's Jupiter,

and rules all the world.

  BARBARA. Love is - Girls, I think love is a

man!                [They laugh merrily again.

  SALLY. A Yankee man

  BARBARA. [On the defensive.] I like Captain


  [COL. NEGLY, who has come out from his house,

    now reaches the Frietchie steps.

  COL. NEGLY. [Bowing.] Well, young ladies!

                              [BARBARA rises.

  ALL. [Together.] Good evening, Colonel Negly.

  SALLY. Good evening, father.

  COL. NEGLY. Barbara, is your father in

  BARBARA. No, sir; but won't you sit down

  COL. NEGLY. No, thank you. I'm afraid I'd

be taking up room a younger man will be com-

ing after. I'll smoke a cigar on my own steps,



and be over again later when your father's


  BARBARA. I'll tell father, sir.

  [Sitting down. NEGLY' strolls back to his steps,

    lighting a cigar. He sits there smoking,

    scarcely visible, except for the glow of his cigar

    end. EDGAR STRONG and HAL BOYD, coming

    up the street, reach the Frietchie steps and

    salute the young ladies. At the same time

    three girls, arm  in  arm, come from    the

    opposite side, pass the two young men, and look

    back over their shoulders as they pass on around

    the Royce corner and out of sight.

  HAL. [Standing in front of the steps.] Miss

Laura, may I speak to you a minute

          [The three girls "ahem l" mischievously.

  LAURA. [Coming down and joining HAL on the

pavement.) What is it, Doctor Hal



           BARBARA FRIETCHIE              33

  [He takes her a little to one side. The murmur of

    the others' voices is heard during their feew

    private speeches. As they leave the steps,

    SALLY moves nearer to SUE and BARBARA,

    and they whisper together.

  HAL. Persuade Sue to go in and play on the

piano. Pretend we want to dance out here.

Edgar will take Sally, too.

  LAURA. [Puzzled.] But-

  HAL. [Interrupting.] Don't ask any ques-

tions; just trust me. When she thinks we're

dancing, we four'll steal for a walk to the cemetery

and back.

  LAURA. But Barbara

  HAL. Barbara will be grateful to you when she


  LAURA. And I will be grateful to you when I




  HAL. That'll be when the War's over.

  LAURA. Not till then

  HAL. Perhaps before, but it's serious. Won't

you help me

  LAURA. Of course, Doctor Hal.

                 [Turning to join the others.

  HAL. Be careful, Edgar and Sally mustn't

suspect any plan.

  LAURA. Huh, huh! Girls