Chapter 10

And how about that plan of yours?

LOTH

What plan?

HOFFMANN

I mean that essay of yours, that economic description of our district. I ought to say ... in fact, as a friend, I would beg of you as insistently as possible ...

LOTH

Don't worry about that any more. I'll be far away from here by to-morrow.

HOFFMANN

That is really--

[_He interrupts himself._

LOTH

Kind of you, you were going to say.

HOFFMANN

Oh, I don't know. Well, in a certain respect, yes! And anyhow you must forgive me; I'm so frightfully upset. Just count on me. Old friends are always the best! Good-bye, good-bye.

[_He leaves through the middle door._

LOTH

[_Before going to the door, turns around once more with a long glance as if to imprint the whole room on his memory. Then to himself:_] I suppose I can go now ...

[_After a last glance he leaves._

_The room remains empty for some seconds. The sound of muffled voices and the noise of footfalls is heard. Then HOFFMANN appears. As soon as he has closed the door behind him, he takes out his note-book and runs over some account with exaggerated calm. He interrupts himself, listens, becomes restless again, advances to the door and listens there. Suddenly some one runs down the stair and HELEN bursts in._

HELEN

[_Still without._] Brother! [_At the door._] Brother!

HOFFMANN

What's the _matter_?

HELEN

Be brave: still-born!

HOFFMANN

O my God!

[_He rushes out._

HELEN _alone._

_She looks about her and calls softly:_ Alfred! Alfred! _As she receives no answer, she calls out again more quickly:_ Alfred! Alfred! _She has hurried to the door of the conservatory through which she gazes anxiously. She goes into the conservatory, but reappears shortly._ Alfred! _Her disquiet increases. She peers out of the window._ Alfred! _She opens the window and mounts a chair that stands before it. At this moment there resounds clearly from the yard the shouting of the drunken farmer, her father, who is coming home from the inn,_ Hay-hee! Ain' I a han'some feller? Ain' I got a fine-lookin' wife? Ain' I got a couple o' han'some gals? Hay-hee! _HELEN utters a short cry and runs, like a hunted creature, toward the middle door. From there she discovers the letter which LOTH has left lying on thee table. She runs to it, tears it open, feverishly takes in the contents, of which she audibly utters separate words._ "Insuperable!" ... "Never again." ... _She lets the letter fall and sways._ It's over! _She steadies herself, holds her head with both hands and cries out in brief and piercing despair._ It's over! _She rushes out through the--middle door. The farmer's voice without, drawing nearer._ Hay-hee! Ain' the farm mine? Ain' I got a han'some wife? Ain' I a han'some feller? _HELEN, still seeking LOTH half-madly, comes from the conservatory and meets EDWARD, who has come to fetch something from HOFFMANN'S room. She addresses him:_ Edward! _He answers:_ Yes, Miss Krause. _She continues:_ I'd like to ... like to ... Dr. Loth ... _EDWARD answers:_ Dr. Loth drove away in Dr. Schimmelpfennig's carriage. _He disappears into HOFFMANN'S room._ True! _HELEN cries out and holds herself erect with difficulty. In the next moment a desperate energy takes hold of her. She runs to the foreground and seizes the hunting knife with its belt which is fastened to the stag's antlers above the sofa. She hides the weapon and stays quietly in the dark foreground until EDWARD, coming from HOFFMANN'S room, has disappeared through the middle door. The farmer's voice resounds more clearly from moment to moment._ Hay-hee! Ain' I a han'some feller? _At this sound, as at a signal, HELEN starts and runs, in her turn, into HOFFMANN'S room. The main room is empty but one continues to hear the farmer's voice:_ Ain' I got the finest teeth? Ain' I got a fine farm? _MIELE comes through the middle door and looks searchingly about. She calls:_ Miss Helen! Miss Helen! _Meanwhile the farmer's voice:_ The money 'sh mi-ine! _Without further hesitation MIELE has disappeared into HOFFMANN'S room, the door of which she leaves open. In the next moment she rushes out with every sign of insane terror. Screaming she spins around twice--thrice--screaming she flies through the middle door. Her uninterrupted screaming, softening as it recedes, is audible for several seconds. Last there is heard the opening and resonant slamming of the heavy house door, the tread of the farmer stumbling about in the hall, and his coarse, nasal, thick-tongued drunkard's voice echoes through the room:_ Hay-hee! Ain' I got a couple o' han'some gals?

CURTAIN

THE WEAVERS

_I DEDICATE THIS DRAMA TO MY FATHER

ROBERT HAUPTMANN.

You, dear father, know what feelings lead me to dedicate this work to you, and I am not called upon to analyse them here.

Your stories of my grandfather, who in his young days sat at the loom, a poor weaver like those here depicted, contained the germ of my drama. Whether it possesses the vigour of life or is rotten at the core, it is the best, "so poor a man as Hamlet is" can offer.

Your

GERHART_

COMPLETE LIST OF CHARACTERS

DREISSIGER, _fustian manufacturer._

MRS. DREISSIGER.

PFEIFER, _manager in DREISSIGER'S employment._

NEUMANN, _cashier in DREISSIGER'S employment._

AN APPRENTICE _in DREISSIGER'S employment._

JOHN, _coachman in DREISSIGER'S employment._

A MAID _in DREISSIGER'S employment._

WEINHOLD, _tutor to DREISSIGER'S sons._

PASTOR KITTELHAUS.

MRS. KITTELHAUS.

HEIDE, _Police Superintendent._

KUTSCHE, _policeman._

WELZEL, _publican._

MRS. WELZEL.

ANNA WELZEL.

WIEGAND, _joiner._

A COMMERCIAL TRAVELLER.

A PEASANT.

A FORESTER.

SCHMIDT, _surgeon._

HORNIG, _rag dealer._

WITTIG, _smith._

WEAVERS.

BECKER.

MORITZ JAEGER.

OLD BAUMERT.

MOTHER BAUMERT.

BERTHA BAUMERT

EMMA BAUMERT

FRITZ, EMMA'S _son (four years old)._

AUGUST BAUMERT.

OLD ANSORGE.

MRS. HEINRICH.

OLD HILSE.

MOTHER HILSE.

GOTTLIEB HILSE.

LUISE, GOTTLIEB'S _wife._

MIELCHEN, _their daughter (six years old)._

REIMANN, _weaver._

HELEN, _weaver._

A WEAVER'S WIFE.

_A number of weavers, young and old, of both sexes._

The action passes in the Forties, at Kaschbach, Peterswaldau and Langenbielau, in the Eulengebirge.

THE FIRST ACT

_A large whitewashed room on the ground floor of DREISSIGER'S house at Peterswaldau, where the weavers deliver their finished webs and the fustian is stored. To the left are uncurtained windows, in the back mall there is a glass door, and to the right another glass door, through which weavers, male and female, and children, are passing in and out. All three walls are lined with shelves for the storing of the fustian. Against the right wall stands a long bench, on which a number of weavers have already spread out their cloth. In the order of arrival each presents his piece to be examined by PFEIFER, DREISSIGER'S manager, who stands, with compass and magnifying-glass, behind a large table, on which the web to be inspected is laid. When PFEIFER has satisfied himself, the weaver lays the fustian on the scale, and an office apprentice tests its weight. The same boy stores the accepted pieces on the shelves. PFEIFER calls out the payment due in each case to NEUMANN, the cashier, who is seated at a small table._

_It is a sultry day towards the end of May. The clock is on the stroke of twelve. Most of the waiting work-people have the air of standing before the bar of justice, in torturing expectation of a decision that means life or death to them. They are marked too by the anxious timidity characteristic of the receiver of charity, who has suffered many humiliations, and, conscious that he is barely tolerated, has acquired the habit of self-effacement. Add to this a rigid expression on every face that tells of constant, fruitless brooding. There is a general resemblance among the men. They have something about them of the dwarf, something of the schoolmaster. The majority are flat-breasted, short-minded, sallow, and poor looking--creatures of the loom, their knees bent with much silting. At a, first glance the women show fewer typical traits. They look over-driven, worried, reckless, whereas the men still make some show of a pitiful self-respect; and their clothes are ragged, while the men's are patched and mended. Some of the young girls are not without a certain charm, consisting in a wax-like pallor, a slender figure, and large, projecting, melancholy eyes._

NEUMANN

[_Counting out money._] Comes to one and seven-pence halfpenny.

WEAVER'S WIFE

[_About thirty, emaciated, takes up the money with trembling fingers._] Thank you, sir.

NEUMANN

[_Seeing that she does not move on._] Well, something wrong this time, too?

WEAVER'S WIFE

[_Agitated, imploringly._] Do you think I might have a few pence in advance, sir? I need it that bad.

NEUMANN

And I need a few pounds. If it was only a question of needing it--! [_Already occupied in counting out another weaver's money, gruffly._] It's Mr. Dreissiger who settles about pay in advance.

WEAVER'S WIFE

Couldn't I speak to Mr. Dreissiger himself, then, sir?

PFEIFER

[_Now manager, formerly weaver. The type is unmistakable, only he is well fed, well dressed, clean shaven; also takes snuff copiously. He calls out roughly._] Mr. Dreissiger would have enough to do if he had to attend to every trifle himself. That's what we are here for. [_He measures, and then examines through the magnifying-glass._] Mercy on us! what a draught! [_Puts a thick muffler round his neck._] Shut the door, whoever comes in.

APPRENTICE

[_Loudly to PFEIFER._] You might as well talk to stocks and stones.

PFEIFER

That's done!--Weigh! [_The weaver places his web on the scales._] If you only understood your business a little better! Full of lumps again.... I hardly need to look at the cloth to see them. Call yourself a weaver, and "draw as long a bow" as you've done there!

_BECKER has entered. A young, exceptionally powerfully-built weaver; offhand, almost bold in manner. PFEIFER, NEUMANN, and the APPRENTICE exchange looks of mutual understanding as he comes in._

BECKER

Devil take it! This is a sweatin' job, and no mistake.

FIRST WEAVER

[_In a low voice._] This blazin' heat means rain.

[_OLD BAUMERT forces his way in at the glass door on the right, through which the crowd of weavers can be seen, standing shoulder to shoulder, waiting their turn. The old man stumbles forward and lays his bundle on the bench, beside BECKER'S. He sits down by it, and wipes the sweat from his face._

OLD BAUMERT

A man has a right to a rest after that.

BECKER

Rest's better than money.

OLD BAUMERT

Yes, but we _needs_ the money too. Good mornin' to you, Becker!

BECKER

Mornin', father Baumert! Goodness knows how long we'll have to stand here again.

FIRST WEAVER

That don't matter. What's to hinder a weaver waitin' for an hour, or for a day? What else is he there for?

PFEIFER

Silence there! We can't hear our own voices.

BECKER

[_In a low voice._] This is one of his bad days.

PFEIFER

[_To the weaver standing before him._] How often have I told you that you must bring cleaner cloth? What sort of mess is this? Knots, and straw, and all kinds of dirt.

REIMANN

It's for want of a new picker, sir.

APPRENTICE

[_Has weighed the piece._] Short weight, too.

PFEIFER

I never saw such weavers. I hate to give out the yarn to them. It was another story in my day! I'd have caught it finely from my master for work like that. The business was carried on in different style then. A man had to know his trade--that's the last thing that's thought of nowadays. Reimann, one shilling.

REIMANN

But there's always a pound allowed for waste.

PFEIFER

I've no time. Next man!--What have you to show?

HEIBER

[_Lays his web on the table. While PFEIFER is examining it, he goes close up to him; eagerly in a low tone._] Beg pardon, Mr. Pfeifer, but I wanted to ask you, sir, if you would perhaps be so very kind an' do me the favour an' not take my advance money off this week's pay.

PFEIFER

[_Measuring and examining the texture; jeeringly._] Well! What next, I wonder? This looks very much as if half the weft had stuck to the bobbins again.

HEIBER

[_Continues._] I'll be sure to make it all right next week, sir. But this last week I've had to put in two days' work on the estate. And my missus is ill in bed....

PFEIFER

[_Giving the web to be weighed._] Another piece of real slop-work. [_Already examining a new web._] What a selvage! Here it's broad, there it's narrow; here it's drawn in by the wefts goodness knows how tight, and there it's torn out again by the temples. And hardly seventy threads weft to the inch. What's come of the rest? Do you call this honest work? I never saw anything like it.

[_HEIBER, repressing tears, stands humiliated and helpless._

BECKER

[_In a low voice to BAUMERT._] To please that brute you'd have to pay for extra yarn out o' your own pocket.

WEAVER'S WIFE

[_Who has remained standing near the cashier's table, from time to time looking round appealingly, takes courage and once more turns imploringly to the cashier._] I don't know what's to come o' me, sir, if you won't give me a little advance this time ... O Lord, O Lord!

PFEIFER

[_Calls across._] It's no good whining, or dragging the Lord's name into the matter. You're not so anxious about Him at other times. You look after your husband and see that he's not to be found so often lounging in the public-house. We can give no pay in advance. We have to account for every penny. It's not our money. People that are industrious, and understand their work, and do it in the fear of God, never need their pay in advance. So now you know.

NEUMANN

If a Bielau weaver got four times as much pay, he would squander it four times over and be in debt into the bargain.

WEAVER'S WIFE

[_In a loud voice, as if appealing to the general sense of justice._] No one can't call me idle, but I'm not fit now for what I once was. I've twice had a miscarriage. And as to John, he's but a poor creature. He's been to the shepherd at Zerlau, but he couldn't do him no good, and ... you can't do more than you've strength for.... We works as hard as ever we can. This many a week I've been at it till far on into the night. An' we'll keep our heads above water right enough if I can just get a bit o' strength into me. But you must have pity on us, Mr. Pfeifer, sir. [_Eagerly, coaxingly._] You'll please be so very kind as to let me have a few pence on the next job, sir?

PFEIFER

[_Paying no attention._] Fiedler, one and twopence.

WEAVER'S WIFE

Only a few pence, to buy bread with. We can't get no more credit. We've a lot o' little ones.

NEUMANN

[_Half aside to the APPRENTICE, in a serio-comic-tone._] "Every year brings a child to the linen-weaver's wife, heigh-ho, heigh-ho, heigh."

APPRENTICE

[_Takes up the rhyme, half singing._] "And the little brat it's blind the first weeks of its life, heigh-ho, heigh-ho, heigh."

REIMANN

[_Not touching the money which the cashier has counted out to him._] We've always got one and fourpence for the web.

PFEIFER

[_Calls across._] If our terms don't suit you, Reimann, you have only to say so. There's no scarcity of weavers--especially of your sort. For full weight we give full pay.

REIMANN

How anything can be wrong with the weight o' this...!

PFEIFER

You bring a piece of fustian with no faults in it, and there will be no fault in the pay.

REIMANN

It's clean impossible that there's too many knots in this web.

PFEIFER

[_Examining._] If you want to live well, then be sure you weave well.

HEIBER

[_Has remained standing near PFEIFER, so as to seize on any favourable opportunity. He laughs at PFEIFER'S little witticism, then steps forward and again addresses him._] I wanted to ask you, sir, if you would perhaps have the great kindness not to take my advance of sixpence off to-day's pay? My missus has been bedridden since February, She can't do a hand's turn for me, an' I've to pay a bobbin girl. An' so ...

PFEIFER

[_Takes a pinch of snuff._] Heiber do you think I have no one to attend to but you? The others must have their turn.

REIMANN

As the warp was given me I took it home and fastened it to the beam. I can't bring back no better yarn than I gets.

PFEIFER

If you're not satisfied, you need come for no more. There are plenty ready to tramp the soles off their shoes to get it.

NEUMANN

[_To REIMANN._] Don't you want your money?

REIMANN

I can't bring myself to take such pay.

NEUMANN

[_Paying no further attention to REIMANN._] Heiber, one shilling. Deduct sixpence for pay it advance. Leaves sixpence.

HEIBER

[_Goes up to the table, looks at the money, stands shaking his head as if unable to believe his eyes, then slowly takes it up._] Well, I never!-- [_Sighing._] Oh dear, oh dear!

OLD BAUMERT

[_Looking into HEIBER'S face._] Yes, Franz, that's so! There's matter enough for sighing.

HEIBER

[_Speaking with difficulty._] I've a girl lyin' sick at home too, an' she needs a bottle of medicine.

OLD BAUMERT

What's wrong with her?

HEIBER

Well, you see, she's always been a sickly bit of a thing. I don't know ... I needn't mind tellin' you--she brought her trouble with her. It's in her blood, and it breaks out here, there, and everywhere.

OLD BAUMERT

It's always the way. Let folks be poor, and one trouble comes to them on the top of another. There's no help for it and there's no end to it.

HEIBER

What are you carryin' in that cloth, fatter. Baumert?

OLD BAUMERT

We haven't so much as a bite in the house, and so I've had the little dog killed. There's not much on him, for the poor beast was half starved. A nice little dog he was! I couldn't kill him myself. I hadn't the heart to do it.

PFEIFER

[_Has inspected BECKER'S web and calls._] Becker, one and threepence.

BECKER

That's what you might give to a beggar; it's not pay.

PFEIFER

Every one who has been attended to must clear out. We haven't room to turn round in.

BECKER

[_To those standing near, without lowering his voice._] It's a beggarly pittance, nothing else. A man works his treadle from early morning till late at night, an' when he's bent over his loom for days an' days, tired to death every evening, sick with the dust and the heat, he finds he's made a beggarly one and threepence!

PFEIFER

No impudence allowed here.

BECKER

If you think I'll hold my tongue for your tellin', you're much mistaken.

PFEIFER

[_Exclaims._] We'll see about that! [_Rushes to the glass door and calls into the office._] Mr. Dreissiger, Mr. Dreissiger, will you be good enough to come here?

_Enter DREISSIGER. About forty, full-bodied, asthmatic. Looks severe._

DREISSIGER

What is it, Pfeifer?

PFEIFER

[_Spitefully._] Becker says he won't be told to hold his tongue.

DREISSIGER

[_Draws himself up, throws back his head, stares at BECKER; his nostrils tremble._] Oh, indeed!--Becker. [_To PFEIFER.] Is he the man?...

[_The clerks nod._

BECKER

[_Insolently._] Yes, Mr. Dreissiger, yes! [_Pointing to himself._] This is the man. [_Pointing to DREISSIGER._] And that's a man too!

DREISSIGER

[_Angrily._] Fellow, how dare you?

PFEIFER

He's too well off. He'll go dancing on the ice once too often, though.

BECKER

[_Recklessly._] You shut up, you Jack-in-the-box. Your mother must have gone dancing once too often with Satan to have got such a devil for a son.

DREISSIGER

[_Now in a violent passion, roars._] Hold your tongue this moment, sir, or ...

[_He trembles and takes a fere steps forward._

BECKER

[_Holding his ground steadily._] I'm not deaf. My hearing's quite good yet.

DREISSIGER

[_Controls himself, asks in an apparently cool business tone._] Was this fellow not one of the pack...?

PFEIFER

He's a Bielau weaver. When there's any mischief going, they're sure to be in it.

DREISSIGER

[_Trembling._] Well, I give you all warning: if the same thing happens again as last night--a troop of half-drunken cubs marching past my windows singing that low song ...

BECKER

Is it "Bloody Justice" you mean?

DREISSIGER

You know well enough what I mean. I tell you that if I hear it again I'll get hold of one of you, and--mind, I'm not joking--before the justice he shall go. And if I can find out who it was that made up that vile doggerel ...

BECKER

It's a grand song, that's what it is!

DREISSIGER

Another word and I send for the police on the spot, without more ado. I'll make short work with you young fellows. I've got the better of very different men before now.

BECKER

I believe you there. A real thoroughbred manufacturer will get the better of two or three hundred weavers in the time it takes you to turn round--swallow 'em up, and not leave as much as a bone. He's got four stomachs like a cow, and teeth like a wolf. That's nothing to him at all!

DREISSIGER

[_To his clerks._] That man gets no more work from us.

BECKER

It's all the same to me whether I starve at my loom or by the roadside.

DREISSIGER

Out you go, then, this moment!

BECKER

[_Determinedly._] Not without my pay.

DREISSIGER

How much is owing to the fellow, Neumann?

NEUMANN

One and threepence.

DREISSIGER

[_Takes the money hurriedly ont of the cashier's hand, and flings it on the table, so that some of the coins roll off on to the floor._] There you are, then; and now, out of my sight with you!

BECKER

Not without my pay.

DREISSIGER

Don't you see it lying there? If you don't take it and go ... It's exactly twelve now ... The dyers are coming out for their dinner ...

BECKER

I gets my pay into my hand--here--that's where!

[_Points with the fingers of his right hand at the palm of his left._

DREISSIGER

[_To the APPRENTICE._] Pick up the money, Tilgner.

[_The APPRENTICE lifts the money and puts it into BECKER'S hand._

BECKER

Everything in proper order.

[_Deliberately takes an old purse out of his pocket and puts the money into it._

DREISSIGER

[_As BECKER still does not move away._] Well? Do you want me to come and help you?

[_Signs of agitation are observable among the crowd of weavers. A long, loud sigh is heard, and then a fall. General interest is at once diverted to this new event._

DREISSIGER

What's the matter there?

CHORUS OF WEAVERS AND WOMEN

"Some one's fainted."--"It's a little sickly boy."--"Is it a fit, or what?"

DREISSIGER

What do you say? Fainted?

[_He goes nearer._

OLD WEAVER

There he lies, any way.

[_They make room. A boy of about eight is seen lying on the floor as if dead._

DREISSIGER

Does any one know the boy?

OLD WEAVER

He's not from our village.

OLD BAUMERT

He's like one of weaver Heinrich's boys. [_Looks at him more closely._] Yes, that's Heinrich's little Philip.

DREISSIGER

Where do they live?

OLD BAUMERT

Up near us in Kaschbach, sir. He goes round playin' music in the evenings, and all day he's at the loom. They've nine children an' a tenth a coming.

CHORUS OF WEAVERS AND WOMEN

"They're terrible put to it."--"The rain comes through their roof."--"The woman hasn't two shirts among the nine."

OLD BAUMERT

[_Taking the boy by the arm._] Now then, lad, what's wrong with you? Wake up, lad.

DREISSIGER

Some of you help me, and we'll get him up. It's disgraceful to send a sickly child this distance. Bring some water, Pfeifer.

WOMAN

[_Helping to lift the boy._] Sure you're not goin' to be foolish and die, lad!

DREISSIGER

Brandy, Pfeifer, brandy will be better.

BECKER

[_Forgotten by all, has stood looking on. With his hand on the door-latch, he now calls loudly and tauntingly._] Give him something to eat, an' he'll soon be all right.

[_Goes out._

DREISSIGER