Chapter 5

[_Growing anger is noticeable in the behaviour of MRS. KRAUSE. KAHL is obviously hard put to it to restrain his laughter concerning something that seems to furnish him immense inner amusement. HELEN observes KAHL with burning eyes and her threatening glance has repeatedly restrained him from saying something that is clearly on the tip of his tongue. LOTH, peeling an apple with a good deal of equanimity, has taken no notice of all this._

LOTH

What is more, you seem to be rather blessed with that sort of thing hereabouts.

HOFFMANN

[_Almost beside himself._] Why? How? Blessed with what?

LOTH

With drunkards, of course.

HOFFMANN

H-m! Do you think so ... ah ... yes ... I dare say--the miners....

LOTH

Not only the miners. Here, in the inn, where I stopped before I came to you, there sat a fellow, for instance, this way.

[_He rests both elbows on the table, supports his head, with his hands and stares at the table._

HOFFMANN

Really?

[_His embarrassment has now reached its highest point; MRS. KRAUSE coughs; HELEN still commands KAHL with her eyes. His whole body quivers with internal laughter, but he is still capable of enough self-command not to burst out._

LOTH

I'm surprised that you don't know this, well, one might almost say, this matchless example of his kind. It's the inn next door to your house. I was told that the man is an immensely rich farmer of this place who literally spends his days and years in the same tap-room drinking whiskey. Of course he's a mere animal to-day. Those frightfully vacant, drink-bleared eyes with which he stared at me!

[_KAHL, who has restrained himself up to this point, breaks out in coarse, loud, irrepressible laughter, so that LOTH and HOFFMANN, dumb with astonishment, stare at him._

KAHL

[_Stammering out through his laughter._] By the Almighty, that was.... Oh, sure, sure--that was the ol' man.

HELEN

[_Jumps up, horrified and indignant. She crushes her napkin and flings it on the table._] You are.... [_With a gesture of utter loathing._] Oh, you are....

[_She withdraws swiftly._

KAHL

[_Violently breaking through the constraint which arises from his consciousness of having committed a gross blunder._] Oh, pshaw!... It's too dam' foolish! I'm goin' my own ways. [_He puts on his hat and says, without turning back:_] Evenin'.

MRS. KRAUSE

[_Calls out after him._] Don' know's I c'n blame you, William. [_She folds her napkin and calls_:] Miele! [_MIELE enters._] Clear the table! [_To herself, but audibly._] Sich a goose!

HOFFMANN

[_Somewhat angry._] Well, mother, honestly, I must say....

MRS. KRAUSE

You go and...!

[_Arises; exits quickly._

MRS. SPILLER

Madame--m--has had a good many domestic annoyances to-day--m--. I will now respectfully take my leave.

[_She rises, prays silently with upturned eyes for a moment and then leaves._

_MIELE and EDWARD clear the table. HOFFMANN has arisen and comes to the foreground. He has a toothpick in his mouth. LOTH follows him._

HOFFMANN

Well, you see, that's the way women are.

LOTH

I can't say that I understand what it was about.

HOFFMANN

It isn't worth mentioning. Things like that happen in the most refined families. It mustn't keep you from spending a few days with us....

LOTH

I should like to have made your wife's acquaintance. Why doesn't she appear at all?

HOFFMANN

[_Cutting off the end of a fresh cigar._] Well, in her condition, you understand ... women won't abandon their vanity. Come, let's go and take a few turns in the garden.--Edward, serve coffee in the arbour!

EDWARD

Very well, sir.

[_HOFFMANN and LOTH disappear by way of the conservatory. EDWARD leaves by way of the middle door and MIELE, immediately thereafter, goes out, carrying a tray of dishes, by the same door. For a few seconds the room is empty. Then enters_

HELEN

[_Wrought up, with tear-stained eyes, holding her handkerchief against her mouth. From the middle door, by which she has entered, she takes a few hasty steps to the left and listens at the door of HOFFMANN'S room._] Oh, don't go! [_Hearing nothing there, she hastens over to the door of the conservatory, where she also listens for a few moments with tense expression. Folding her hands and in a tone of impassioned beseeching._] Oh, don't go! Don't go!

THE CURTAIN FALLS

THE SECOND ACT

_It is about four o'clock in the morning. The windows in the inn are still lit. Through the gateway comes in the twilight of a pallid dawn which, in the course of the action, develops into a ruddy glow, and this, in its turn, gradually melts into bright daylight. Under the gateway, on the ground, sits BEIPST and sharpens his scythe. As the curtain rises, little more is visible than his dark outline which is defined against the morning sky, but one hears the monotonous, uninterrupted and regular beat of the scythe hammer on the anvil. For some minutes this is the only sound audible. Then follows the solemn silence of the morning, broken by the cries of roysterers who are leaving the inn. The inn-door is slammed with a crash. The lights in the windows go out. A distant barking of dogs is heard and a loud, confused crowing of cocks. On the path from the inn to the house a dark figure becomes visible which reels in zigzag lines toward the farmyard. It is FARMER KRAUSE, who, as always, has been the last to leave the inn._

FARMER KRAUSE

[_Has reeled against the fence, clings to it for support with both hands, and roars with a somewhat nasal, drunken voice back at the inn._] The garden'sh mine ... the inn'sh mi-ine ... ash of a' inn-keeper! Hi-hee! [_After mumbling and growling unintelligibly he frees himself from the fence and staggers into the yard, where, luckily, he gets hold of the handles of a plough._] The farm'sh mi'ine. [_He drivels, half singing._] Drink ... o ... lil' brother, drink ... o ... lil' brother ... brandy'sh good t' give courash. Hi-hee--[_roaring aloud_]--ain' I a han'some man ... Ain' I got a han'some wife?... Ain' I got a couple o' han'some gals?

HELEN

[_Comes swiftly from the house. It is plain that she has only slipped on such garments as, in her hurry, she could find._] Papa!... dear papa!! Do come in! [_She supports him by one arm, tries to lead him and draw him toward the house._] Oh, do come ... do please come ... quick ... quick ... Come, oh, do, _do_ come!

FARMER KRAUSE

[_Has straightened himself up and tries to stand erect. Fumbling with both hands he succeeds, with great pains, in extracting from his breeches-pocket a purse bursting with coins. As the morning brightens, it is possible to see the shabby garb of KRAUSE, which is in no respects better than that of the commonest field labourer. He is about fifty years old. His head is bare, his thin, grey hair is uncombed and matted. His dirty shirt is open down to his waist. His leathern breeches, tied at the ankles, were once yellow but are now shiny with dirt. They are held up by a single embroidered suspender. On his naked feet he wears a pair of embroidered bedroom slippers, the embroidery on which seems to be quite new. He wears neither coat nor waist-coat and his shirtsleeves are unbuttoned. After he has finally succeeded in extracting the purse, he holds it in his right hand and brings it down repeatedly on the palm of his left so that the coins ring and clatter, At the same time he fixes a lascivious look on his daughter._] Hi-hee! The money'sh mi-ine! Hey? How'd y' like couple o' crownsh?

HELEN

Oh, merciful God! [_She makes repeated efforts to drag him with her. At one of these efforts he embraces her with the clumsiness of a gorilla and makes several indecent gestures. HELEN utters suppressed cries for help._] Let go! This minute! Let go-o!! Oh, please, papa, Oh-o!! [_She weeps, then suddenly cries out in an extremity of fear, loathing and rage:_] Beast! Swine!

[_She pushes him from her and KRAUSE falls to his full length on the ground. BEIPST comes limping up from his seat under the gateway. He and HELEN set about lifting KRAUSE._

FARMER KRAUSE

[_Stammers._] Drink ... o ... lil' brothersh ... drrr ...

[_KRAUSE is half-lifted up and tumbles into the house, dragging BEIPST and HELEN with him. For a moment the stage remains empty. In the house voices are heard and the slamming of doors. A single window is lit, upon which BEIPST comes out of the house again. He strikes a match against his leathern breeches in order to light the short pipe that rarely leaves his mouth. While he is thus employed, KAHL is seen slinking out of the house. He is in his stocking feet, but has slung his coat loosely over his left arm and holds his bedroom slippers in his left hand. In his right hand he holds his hat and his collar in his teeth. When he has reached the middle of the yard, he sees the face of BEIPST turned upon him. For a moment he seems undecided; then he manages to grasp his hat and collar also with his left hand, dives into his breeches' pocket and going up to BEIPST presses a coin into the latter's hand._

KAHL

There, you got a crown ... but shut yer mouth!

[_He hastens across the yard and climbs over the picket fence at the right._

[_BEIPST has lit his pipe with a fresh match. He limps to the gate, sits down and begins sharpening his scythe anew. Again nothing is heard for a time but the monotonous hammer blows and the groans of the old man, which he interrupts by short oaths when his work will not go to his liking. It has grown considerably lighter._

LOTH

[_Steps out of the house door, stands still, stretches himself, and breathes deeply several times._] Ah! The morning air. [_Slowly he goes toward the background until he reaches the gateway. To BEIPST._] Good morning! Up so early?

BEIPST

[_Squinting at LOTH suspiciously. In a surly tone._] 'Mornin'. [_A brief pause, whereupon BEIPST addresses his scythe which he pulls to and fro in his indignation._] Crooked beast! Well, are ye goin' to? Eksch! Well, well, I'll be ...

[_He continues to sharpen it._

LOTH

[_Has taken a seat between the handles of a cultivator._] I suppose there's hay harvesting to-day?

BEIPST

[_Roughly._] Dam' fools go a-cuttin' hay this time o' year.

LOTH

Well, but you're sharpening a scythe?

BEIPST

[_To the scythe._] Eksch! You ol'...!

[_A brief pause._]

LOTH

Won't you tell me, though, why you are sharpening your scythe if it is not time for the hay harvest?

BEIPST

Eh? Don't you need a scythe to cut fodder?

LOTH

So that's it. You're going to cut fodder?

BEIPST

Well, what else?

LOTH

And is it cut every morning?

BEIPST

Well, d' you want the beasts to starve?

LOTH

You must show me a little forbearance. You see, I'm a city man; and it isn't possible for me to know things about farming very exactly.

BEIPST

City folks! Eksh! All of 'em I ever saw thought they knew it all--better'n country folks.

LOTH

That isn't the case with me.--Can you explain to me, for instance, what kind of an implement this is? I have seen one like it before, to be sure, but the name--

BEIPST

That thing that ye're sittin' on? Why, they calls that a cultivator.

LOTH

To be sure--a cultivator. Is it used here?

BEIPST

Naw; more's the pity. He lets everything go to hell ... all the land ... lets it go, the farmer does. A poor man would like to have a bit o' land--you can't have grain growin' in your beard, you know. But no! He'd rather let it go to the devil! Nothin' grows excep' weeds an' thistles.

LOTH

Well, but you can get those out with the cultivator, too. I know that the Icarians had them, too, in order to weed thoroughly the land that had been cleared.

BEIPST

Where's them I-ca ... what d'you, call 'em?

LOTH

The Icarians? In America.

BEIPST

They've got things like that there, too?

LOTH

Certainly.

BEIPST

What kind of people is them I-I-ca...?

LOTH

The Icarians? They are not a special people at all, but men of all nations who have united for a common purpose. They own a considerable tract of land in America which they cultivate together. They share both the work and the profits equally. None of them is poor and there are no poor people among them.

BEIPST

[_Whose expression had become a little more friendly, assumes, during LOTH'S last speech, his former hostile and suspicious look. Without taking further notice of LOTH he has, during the last few moments, given his exclusive attention to his work._] Beast of a scythe!

[_LOTH, still seated, first observes the old man with a quiet smile and then looks out into the awakening morning._

_Through the gateway are visible far stretches of clover field and meadow. Between them meanders a brook whose course is marked by alders and willows. A single mountain peak towers on the horizon. All about, larks have begun their song, and their uninterrupted trilling floats, now from near, now from far, into the farm yard._

LOTH

[_Getting up._] One ought to take a walk. The morning is magnificent.

[_The clatter of wooden shoes is heard. Some one is rapidly coming down the stairs that lead from the stable loft. It is GUSTE._

GUSTE

[_A rather stout maid-servant. Her neck is bare, as are her arms and legs below the knee. Her naked feet are stuck in wooden shoes. She carries a burning lantern._] Good morning father Beipst!

[_BEIPST growls._]

GUSTE

[_Shading her eyes with her hand looks after LOTH through the gate._] What kind of a feller is that?

BEIPST

[_Embittered._] He can make fools o' beggars ... He can lie like a parson ... Jus' let him tell you his stories. [_He gets up._] Get the wheelbarrows ready, girl!

GUSTE

[_Who has been washing her legs at the well gets through before disappearing into the cow stable._] Right away, father Beipst.

LOTH

[_Returns and gives BEIPST a tip._] There's something for you. A man can always use that.

BEIPST

[_Thawing at once, quite changed and with sincere companionableness._] Yes, yes, you're right there, and I thank ye kindly.--I suppose you're the company of the son-in-law over there? [_Suddenly very voluble._] You know, if you want to go walkin' out there, you know, toward the hill, then you want to keep to the left, real close to the left, because to the right, there's clefts. My son, he used to say, the reason of it was, he used to say, was because they didn't board the place up right, the miners didn't. They gets too little pay, he used to say, and then folks does things just hit or miss, in the shafts you know.--You see? Over yonder? Always to the left! There's holes on t'other side. It wasn't but only last year and a butter woman, just as she was, sudden, sunk down in the earth, I don't know how many fathoms down. Nobody knew whereto. So I'm tellin' you--go to the left, to the left and you'll be safe.

[_A shot is heard. BEIPST starts up as though he had been struck and limps out a few paces into the open._

LOTH

Who, do you think, is shooting so early?

BEIPST

Who would it be excep' that rascal of a boy?

LOTH

What boy?

BEIPST

Will Kahl--our neighbour's son here ... You just wait, you! I've seen him, I tell you. He shoots larks.

LOTH

Why, you limp!

BEIPST

Yes, the Lord pity me. [_He shakes a threatening fist toward the fields._] Eh, wait, you ... you...!

LOTH

What happened to your leg?

BEIPST

My leg?

LOTH

Yes.

BEIPST

Eh? Somethin' got into it.

LOTH

Do you suffer pain?

BEIPST

[_Grasping his leg._] There's a tugging pain in it, a confounded pain.

LOTH

Do you see a doctor about it?

BEIPST

Doctors? Eh, you know, they're all monkeys--one like another. Only our doctor here--he's a mighty good man.

LOTH

And did he help you?

BEIPST

A little, maybe, when all's said. He kneaded my leg, you see, he squeezed it, an' he punched it. But no,'t'ain't on that account. He is ... well, I tell you, he's got compassion on a human bein', that's it. He buys the medicine an' asks nothin'. An' he'll come to you any time ...

LOTH

Still, you must have come by that trouble somehow. Or did you always limp?

BEIPST

Not a bit of it!

LOTH

Then I don't think I quite understand. There must have been some cause ...

BEIPST

How do I know? [_Once more he raises a menacing fist._] You jus' wait, you--with your rattling!

KAHL

[_Appears within his own garden. In his right hand he carries a rifle by the barrel, his left hand is closed. He calls across._] Good mornin', Doctor!

_LOTH walks diagonally across the yard up to KAHL. In the meantime GUSTE as well as another maid-servant named LIESE have each made ready a wheel-barrow on which lie rakes and pitch-forks. They trundle their wheel-barrows past BEIPST out into the fields. The latter, sending menacing glances toward KAHL and making furtive gestures of rage, shoulders his scythe and limps after them. BEIPST and the maids disappear._

LOTH

[_To KAHL._] Good morning.

KAHL

D'you want for to see somethin' fine?

[_He stretches his closed hand across the fence._

LOTH

[_Going nearer._] What have you there?

KAHL

Guess!

[_He opens his hand at once._

LOTH

What? Is it really true--you shoot the larks. You good for nothing! Do you know that you deserve to be beaten for such mischief?

KAHL

[_Stares at LOTH for some seconds in stupid amazement. Then, clenching his fist furtively he says:_] You son of a...!

[_And swinging around, disappears toward the right._

[_For some moments the yard remains empty._]

_HELEN steps from the house door. She wears a light-coloured summer dress and a large garden hat. She looks all around her, walks a few paces toward the gate-way, stands still and gazes out. Hereupon she saunters across the yard toward the right and turns into the path that leads to the inn. Great bundles of various tea-herbs are slung across the fence to dry. She stops to inhale their odours. She also bends downward the lower boughs of fruit trees and admires the low hanging, red-cheeked apples. When she observes LOTH coming toward her from the inn, a yet greater restlessness comes over her, so that she finally turns around and reaches the farm yard before LOTH. Here she notices that the dove-cote is still closed and goes thither through the little gate that leads into the orchard. While she is still busy pulling down the cord which, blown about by the wind, has become entangled somewhere, she is addressed by LOTH, who has come up in the meantime._

LOTH

Good morning, Miss Krause.

HELEN

Good morning. See, the wind has blown the cord up there!

LOTH

Let me help you.

[_He also passes through the little gate, gets the cord down and opens the dove-cote. The pigeons flutter out._

HELEN

Thank you so much!

LOTH

[_Has passed out by the little gate once more and stands there, leaning against the fence. HELEN is on the other side of it. After a brief pause._] Do you make a habit of rising so early?

HELEN

I was just going to ask you the same thing.

LOTH

I? Oh, no! But after the first night in a strange place it usually happens so.

HELEN

Why does that happen?

LOTH

I have never thought about it. To what end?

HELEN

Oh, wouldn't it serve some end?

LOTH

None, at least, that is apparent and practical.

HELEN

And so everything that you do or think must have some practical end in view.

LOTH

Exactly. Furthermore ...

HELEN

I would not have thought that of you.

LOTH

What, Miss Krause?

HELEN

It was with those very words that, day before yesterday, my stepmother snatched "The Sorrows of Werther" from my hand.

LOTH

It is a foolish book.

HELEN

Oh, don't say that.

LOTH

Indeed, I must repeat it, Miss Krause. It is a book for weaklings.

HELEN

That may well be.

LOTH

How do you come across just that book? Do you quite understand it?

HELEN

I hope I do--at least, in part. It rests me to read it. [_After a pause._] But if it _is_ a foolish book, as you say, could you recommend me a better one?

LOTH

Read ... well, let me see ... do you know Dahn's "Fight for Rome"?

HELEN

No, but I'll buy the book now. Does it serve a practical end?

LOTH

No, but a rational one. It depicts men not as they are but such as, some day, they ought to be. Thus it sets up an ideal for our imitation.

HELEN

[_Deeply convinced._] Ah, that is noble. [_A brief pause._] But perhaps you can tell me something else. The papers talk so much about Zola and Ibsen. Are they great authors?

LOTH

In the sense of being artists they are not authors at all, Miss Krause. They are necessary evils. I have a genuine thirst for the beautiful and I demand of art a clear, refreshing draught.--I am not ill; and what Zola and Ibsen offer me is medicine.

HELEN

[_Quite involuntarily._] Ah, then perhaps, they might help me.

LOTH

[_Who has become gradually absorbed in his vision of the dewy orchard and who now yields to it wholly._] How very lovely it is here. Look, how the sun emerges from behind the mountain peak.--And you have so many apples in your garden--a rich harvest.

HELEN

Three-fourths of them will be stolen this year just as last. There is such great poverty hereabouts.

LOTH

I can scarcely tell you how deeply I love the country. Alas, the greater part of _my_ harvest must be sought in cities. But I must try to enjoy this country holiday thoroughly. A man like myself needs a bit of sunshine and refreshment more than most people.

HELEN

[_Sighing._] More than others ... In what respect?

LOTH

It is because I am in the midst of a hard conflict, the end of which I will not live to see.

HELEN

But are we not all engaged in such a conflict?

LOTH

No.

HELEN

Surely we are all engaged in some conflict?

LOTH

Naturally, but in one that may end.

HELEN

It _may_. Yon are right. But why cannot the other end--I mean the one in which you are engaged, Mr. Loth?

LOTH

Your conflict, after all, can only be one for your personal happiness. And, so far as is humanly speaking possible, the individual can attain this. My struggle is a struggle for the happiness of all men. The condition of my happiness would be the happiness of all; nothing could content me until I saw an end of sickness and poverty, of servitude and spiritual meanness. I could take my place at the banquet table of life only as the last of its guests.

HELEN

[_With deep conviction._] Ah, then you are a truly, truly good, man!

LOTH

[_Somewhat embarrassed._] There is no merit in my attitude: it is an inborn one. And I must also confess that my struggle in the interest of progress affords me the highest satisfaction. And the kind of happiness I thus win is one that I estimate far more highly than the happiness which contents the ordinary self-seeker.

HELEN

Still there are very few people in whom such a taste is inborn.

LOTH

Perhaps it isn't wholly inborn. I think that we are constrained to it by the essential wrongness of the conditions of life. Of course, one must have a sense for that wrongness. There is the point. Now if one has that sense and suffers consciously under the wrongness of the conditions in question--why, then one becomes, necessarily, just what I am.

HELEN

Oh, if it were only clearer to me ... Tell me, what conditions, for instance, do you call wrong?

LOTH