Chapter 6

Well, it is wrong, for instance, that he who toils in the sweat of his brow suffers want while the sluggard lives in luxury. It is wrong to punish murder in times of peace and reward it in times of war. It is wrong to despise the hangman and yet, as soldiers do, to bear proudly at one's side a murderous weapon whether it be rapier or sabre. If the hangman displayed his axe thus he would doubtless be stoned. It is wrong, finally, to support as a state religion the faith of Christ which teaches long-suffering, forgiveness and love, and, on the other hand, to train whole nations to be destroyers of their own kind. These are but a few among millions of absurdities. It costs an effort to penetrate to the true nature of all these things: one must begin early.

HELEN

But how did you succeed in thinking of all this? It seems so simple and yet one never thinks of it.

LOTH

In various ways: the course of my own personal development, conversation with friends, reading and independent thinking. I found out the first absurdity when I was a little boy. I once told a rather flagrant lie and my father flogged me most soundly. Shortly thereafter I took a railroad journey with my father and I discovered that my father lied, too, and seemed to take the action quite as a matter of course. I was five years old at that time and my father told the conductor that I was not yet four in order to secure free transportation for me. Again, our teacher said to us: be industrious, be honourable and you will invariably prosper in life. But the man had uttered folly, and I discovered that soon enough. My father was honourable, honest, and thoroughly upright, and yet a scoundrel who is alive and rich to-day cheated him of his last few thousands. And my father, driven by want, had to take employment under this very scoundrel who owned a large soap factory.

HELEN

People like myself hardly dare think of such a thing as wrong. At most one feels it to be so in silence. Indeed, one feels it often--and then--a kind of despair takes hold of one.

LOTH

I recall one absurdity which presented itself to me as such with especial clearness. I had always believed that murder is punished as a crime under whatever circumstances. After the incident in question, however, it grew to be clear to me that only the milder forms of murder are unlawful.

HELEN

How is that possible?

LOTH

My father was a boilermaster. We lived hard by the factory and our windows gave on the factory yard. I saw a good many things there. There was a workingman, for instance, who had worked in the factory for five years. He began to have a violent cough and to lose flesh ... I recall how my father told us about the man at table. His name was Burmeister and he was threatened with pulmonary consumption if he worked much longer in the soap factory. The doctor had told him so. But the man had eight children and, weak and emaciated as he was, he couldn't find other work anywhere. And so he _had_ to stay In the soap factory and his employer was quite self-righteous because he kept him. He seemed to himself an extraordinarily humane person.--One August afternoon--the heat was frightful--Burmeister dragged himself across the yard with a wheelbarrow full of lime. I was just looking out of the window when I noticed him stop, stop again, and finally pitch over headlong on the cobblestones. I ran up to him--my father came, other workingmen came up, but he could barely gasp and his month was filled with blood. I helped carry him into the house. He was a mass of limy rags, reeking with all kinds of chemicals. Before we had gotten him into the house, he was dead.

HELEN

Ah, that is terrible.

LOTH

Scarcely a week later we pulled his wife out of the river into which the waste lye of our factory was drained. And, my dear young lady, when one knows things of that kind as I know them now--believe me--one can find no rest. A simple little piece of soap, which makes no one else in the world think of any harm, even a pair of clean, well-cared-for hands are enough to embitter one thoroughly.

HELEN

I saw something like that once. And oh, it was frightful, frightful!

LOTH

What was that?

HELEN

The son of a workingman was carried in here half-dead. It's about--three years ago.

LOTH

Had he been injured?

HELEN

Yes, over there in the Bear shaft.

LOTH

So it was a miner?

HELEN

Oh, yes. Most of the young men around here go to work in the mines. Another son of the same man was also a trammer and also met with an accident.

LOTH

And were they both killed?

HELEN

Yes, both ... Once the lift broke; the other time it was fire damp.--Old Beipst has yet a third son and he has gone down to the mine too since last Easter.

LOTH

Is it possible? And doesn't the father object?

HELEN

No, not at all. Only he is even more morose than he used to be. Haven't you seen him yet?

LOTH

How could I?

HELEN

Why, he sat near here this morning, under the gateway.

LOTH

Oh! So he works on the farm here?

HELEN

He has been with us for years.

LOTH

Does he limp?

HELEN

Yes, quite badly, indeed.

LOTH

Ah--ha! And what was it that happened to his leg?

HELEN

That's a delicate subject. You have met Mr. Kahl?... But I must tell you this story very softly. [_She draws nearer to LOTH._] His father, you know, was just as silly about hunting as he is. When wandering apprentices came into his yard he shot at them--sometimes only into the air in order to frighten them. He had a violent temper too, and especially when he had been drinking. Well, I suppose Beipst grumbled one day--he likes to grumble, you know--and so the farmer snatched up his rifle and fired at him. Beipst, you know, used to be coachman at the Kahls.

LOTH

Outrage and iniquity wherever one goes.

HELEN

[_Growing more uncertain and excited in her speech._] Oh, I've had my own thoughts often and often ... and I've felt so sick with pity for them all, for old Beipst and ... When the farmers are so coarse and brutish like--well, like Streckmann, who--lets his farm hands starve and feeds sweetmeats to the dogs. I've often felt confused in my mind since I came home from boarding-school ... I have my burden too!--But I'm talking nonsense. It can't possibly interest you, and you will only laugh at me to yourself.

LOTH

But, my dear Miss Krause, how can you think that? Why should I?

HELEN

How can you help it? You'll think anyhow: she's no better than the rest here!

LOTH

I think ill of no one.

HELEN

Oh, you can't make me believe that--ever!

LOTH

But what occasion have I given, you to make you ...

HELEN

[_Almost in tears._] Oh, don't talk. You despise us; you may be sure that you do. Why, how can you help despising us--[_tearfully_]--even my brother-in-law, even me. Indeed, me above all, and you have--oh, you have truly good reasons for it!

[_She quickly turns her back to LOTH, no longer able to master her emotion, and disappears through the orchard into the background. LOTH passes through the little gate and follows her slowly._

MRS. KRAUSE

[_In morning costume, ridiculously over-dressed, comes out of the house. Her face is crimson with rage. She screams._] The low-lived hussy! Marie! Marie!! Under my roof! Out with the brazen hussy!

[_She runs across the yard and disappears in the stable. MRS. SPILLER appears in the house-door; she is crocheting. From within the stable resound scolding and howling._

MRS. KRAUSE

[_Comes out of the stable driving the howling maid before her._] Slut of a wench!--[_The maid almost screams._]--Git out o' here this minute! Pack yer things 'n then git out!

THE MAID

[_Catching sight of MRS. SPILLER, hurls her milking stool and pail from her._] That's your doin'! I'll git even with you!

[_Sobbing, she runs up the stairs to the loft._

HELEN

[_Joining MRS. KRAUSE._] Why, what did she do?

MRS. KRAUSE

[_Roughly._] Any o' your business?

HELEN

[_Passionately, almost weeping._] Yes, it is my business.

MRS. SPILLER

[_Coming up quickly._] Dear Miss Helen, it's nothing fit for the ear of a young lady ...

MRS. KRAUSE

An' I'd like to know why not! She ain't made o' sugar. The wench lay abed with the hired man. Now you know it!

HELEN

[_In a commanding voice._] The maid shall stay for all that!

MRS. KRAUSE

Wench!

HELEN

Good! Then I'll tell father that you spend your nights just the same way with William Kahl.

MRS. KRAUSE

[_Strikes her full in the face._] There you got a reminder!

HELEN

[_Deathly pale, but even more firmly._] And I say the maid shall stay! Otherwise I'll make it known--you ... with William Kahl ... your cousin, my betrothed ... I'll tell the whole world.

MRS. KRAUSE

[_Her assurance breaking down._] Who can say it's so!

HELEN

I can. For I saw him this morning coming out of your bed-room ...

[_She goes swiftly into the house._

[_MRS. KRAUSE totters, almost fainting. MRS. SPILLER hurries to her with smelling-salts._

MRS. SPILLER

Oh, Madame, Madame!

MRS. KRAUSE

Sp--iller; the maid c'n ss-stay!

THE CURTAIN FALLS QUICKLY

THE THIRD ACT

_Time: a few minutes after the incident between HELEN and her step-mother in the yard. The scene is that of the first act._

_Dr. SCHIMMELPFENNIG sits at the table in the foreground to the left. He is writing a prescription. His slouch hat, cotton gloves and cane lie on the table before him. He is short and thick-set of figure; his hair is black and clings in small, firm curls to his head; his moustache is rather heavy. He wears a black coat after the pattern of the Jaeger reform garments. He has the habit of stroking or pulling his moustache almost uninterruptedly; the more excited he is, the more violent is this gesture. When he speaks to HOFFMANN his expression is one of enforced equanimity, but a touch of sarcasm hovers about the corners of his mouth. His gestures, which are thoroughly natural, are lively, decisive and angular. HOFFMANN walks up and down, dressed in a silk dressing-gown and slippers. The table in the background to the right is laid for breakfast: costly porcelain, dainty rolls, a decanter with rum, etc._

HOFFMANN

Are you satisfied with my wife's appearance, doctor?

DR. SCHIMMELPFENNIG

She's looking well enough. Why not?

HOFFMANN

And do you think that everything will pass favourably?

DR. SCHIMMELPFENNIG

I hope so.

HOFFMANN

[_After a pause, with hesitation._] Doctor, I made up my mind--weeks ago--to ask your advice in a very definite matter as soon as I came here.

DR. SCHIMMELPFENNIG

[_Who has hitherto talked and written at the same time, lays his pen aside, arises, and hands HOFFMANN the finished prescription._] Here ... I suppose you'll have that filled quite soon. [_Taking up his hat, cane and gloves._] Your wife complains of headaches, and so--[_looking into his hat and adopting a dry, business-like tone_]--and so, before I forget: try, if possible, to make it clear to your wife that she is in a measure responsible for the new life that is to come into the world. I have already said something to her of the consequences of tight lacing.

HOFFMANN

Certainly, doctor ... I'll do my very best to make it clear to her that ...

DR. SCHIMMELPFENNIG

[_Bowing somewhat awkwardly._] Good morning. [_He is about to go but stops again._] Ah, yes, you wanted my advice ...

[_He regards HOFFMANN coldly._

HOFFMANN

If you can spare me a little while ... [_With a touch of affectation._] You know about the frightful death of my first boy. You were near enough to watch it. You know also what my state of mind was.--One doesn't believe it at first, but--time does heal!... And, after all, I have cause to be grateful now, since it seems that my dearest wish is about to be fulfilled. You understand that I must do everything, everything--it has cost me sleepless nights and yet I don't know yet, not even yet, just what I must do to guard the unborn child from the terrible fate of its little brother. And that is what I wanted to ask ...

DR. SCHIMMELPFENNIG

[_Dryly and business-like._] Separation from the mother is the indispensable condition of a healthy development.

HOFFMANN

So it is that! Do you mean complete separation?... Is the child not even to be in the same house with its mother?

DR. SCHIMMELPFENNIG

Not if you are seriously concerned for the preservation of your child. And your wealth permits you the greatest freedom of movement in this respect.

HOFFMANN

Yes, thank God. I have already bought a villa with a very large park in the neighbourhood of Hirschberg. Only I thought that my wife too ...

DR. SCHIMMELPFENNIG

[_Pulls at his moustache and stares at the floor. Thoughtfully._] Why don't you buy a villa somewhere else for your wife?

[_HOFFMANN shrugs his shoulders._

DR. SCHIMMELPFENNIG

[_As before._] Could you not, perhaps, engage the interest of your sister-in-law for the task of bringing up this child?

HOFFMANN

If you knew, doctor, how many obstacles ... and, after all, she is a young, inexperienced girl, and a mother _is_ a mother.

DR. SCHIMMELPFENNIG

You have my opinion. Good morning.

HOFFMANN

[_Overwhelming the doctor with excessive courtesy._] Good morning. I am extremely grateful to you ...

[_Both withdraw through the middle door._

_HELEN enters. Her handkerchief is pressed to her mouth; she is sobbing, beside herself, and lets herself fall on the sofa in the foreground to the left. After a few moments, HOFFMANN reenters, his hands full of newspapers._

HOFFMANN

Why, what is that? Tell me, sister, are things to go on this way much longer? Since I came here not a day has passed on which I haven't seen you cry.

HELEN

Oh!--what do _you_ know? If you had any sense for such things you'd be surprised that you ever saw me when I didn't cry!

HOFFMANN

That isn't clear to me.

HELEN

Oh, but it is to me!

HOFFMANN

Look here, something must have happened!

HELEN

[_Jumps up and stamps her foot._] Ugh ... but I won't bear it any longer ... it's got to stop! I won't endure such things any more! I don't see why ... I ...

[_Her sobs choke her._

HOFFMANN

Won't you tell me at least what the trouble is, so that I ...

HELEN

[_Bursting out with renewed passion._] I don't care what happens to me! Nothing worse _could_. I've got a drunkard for a father, a beast--with whom his ... his own daughter isn't safe.--An adulterous step-mother who wants to turn me over to her lover ... And this whole life.--No, I don't see that anyone can force me to be bad in spite of myself. I'm going away! I'll run away! And if the people here won't let me go, then ... rope, knife, gun ... I don't care! I don't want to take to drinking brandy like my sister.

HOFFMANN

[_Frightened, grasps her arm._] Nellie, keep still, I tell you; keep still about that.

HELEN

I don't care; I don't care one bit! I ... I'm ashamed of it all to the very bottom of my soul. I wanted to learn something, to be something, to have a chance--and what am I now?

HOFFMANN

[_Who has not released her arm, begins gradually to dram the girl over toward the sofa. The tone of his voice now takes on an excessive softness, an exaggerated, vibrant gentleness._] Nellie! Ah, I know right well that you have many things to suffer here. But be calm...! You need not tell one who knows. [_He puts his right hand caressingly upon her shoulder and brings his face close to hers._] I can't bear to see you weep. Believe me--it hurts me. But don't, don't see things in a worse light than is needful--; and then: have you forgotten, that we are both--you and I--so to speak--in the same position?--I have gotten into this peasant atmosphere--do I fit into it? As little as you do yourself, surely.

HELEN

If my--dear little mother had suspected this--when she ... when she directed--that I should be--educated at Herrnhut! If she had rather ... rather left me at home, then at least ... at least I wouldn't have known anything else, and I would have grown up in this corruption, But now ...

HOFFMANN

[_Has gently forced HELEN down upon the sofa and now sits, pressed close, beside her. In his consolations the sensual element betrays itself more and more strongly._] Nellie! Look at me; let those things be. Let me be your consolation, I needn't talk to you about your sister. [_He embraces her more firmly. Passionately and feelingly._] Oh, if she were what you are!... But as it is ... tell me: what can she be to me? Did you ever hear of a man, Nellie, of a cultured man whose wife--[_he almost whispers_]--is a prey to such an unhappy passion? One is afraid to utter it aloud: a woman--and--brandy ... Now, do you think I am any happier?... Think of my little Freddie! Well, am I, when all's said, any better off than you are?... [_With increasing passion._] And so, you see, fate has done us one kindness anyhow. It has brought us together. And we belong together. Our equal sorrows have predestined us to be friends. Isn't it so, Nellie?

[_He puts his arms wholly around her. She permits it but with an expression which shows that she forces herself to mere endurance. She has grown quite silent and seems, with quivering tension of soul, to be awaiting some certainty, some consummation that is inevitably approaching._

HOFFMANN

[_Tenderly._] You should consent to my plan; you should leave this house and live with us. The baby that is coming needs a mother. Come and be a mother to it; otherwise--[_passionately moved and sentimentally_]--it will have no mother. And then: bring a little, oh, only a very little brightness into my life! Do that! Oh, do that!

[_He is about to lean his head upon her breast. She jumps up, indignant. In her expression are revealed contempt, surprise, loathing and hatred._

HELEN

Oh, but you are, you are ... Now I know you thoroughly! Oh, I've felt it dimly before. But now I am certain.

HOFFMANN

[_Surprised, put out of countenance._] What? Helen ... you're unique--really.

HELEN

Now I know that you're not by one hair's breadth better ... indeed, you're much worse--the worst of them all here!

HOFFMANN

[_Arises. With assumed coldness._] D'you know, your behaviour to-day is really quite peculiar.

HELEN

[_Approaches him._] You have just one end in view. [_Almost whispering._] But you have very different weapons from father and from my stepmother, or from my excellent betrothed--oh, quite different. They are all lambs, all of them, compared to you. Now, now, suddenly, that has become clear as day to me.

HOFFMANN

[_With hypocritical indignation._] Helen, you seem really not to be in your right mind; you're, suffering under a delusion.... [_He interrupts himself and strikes his forehead._] Good Lord, of course! I see it all. You have ... it's very early in the day, to be sure, but I'd wager ... Helen! Have you been talking to Alfred Loth this morning?

HELEN

And why should I not have been talking to him? He is the kind of man before whom we should all be hiding in shame if things went by rights.

HOFFMANN

So I was right!... That's it ... Aha ... well, to be sure ... then I have no further cause for surprise. So he actually used the opportunity to go for his benefactor a bit. Of course, one should really be prepared for things of that kind.

HELEN

Do you know, I think that is really caddish.

HOFFMANN

I'm inclined to think so myself.

HELEN

He didn't breathe one syllable, not one, about you.

HOFFMANN

[_Slurring HELEN'S argument._] If things have reached that pass, then it is really my duty, my duty, I say, as a relative toward an inexperienced young girl like you ...

HELEN

Inexperienced girl! What is the use of this pretence?

HOFFMANN

[_Enraged._] Loth came into this house on my responsibility. Now I want you to know that he is, to put it mildly, an exceedingly dangerous fanatic--this Mr. Loth.

HELEN

To hear you saying that of Mr. Loth strikes me as so absurd, so laughably absurd!

HOFFMANN

And he is a fanatic, furthermore, who has the gift of muddling the heads not only of women, but even of sensible people,

HELEN

Well, now, you see, that again strikes me as so absurd. I only exchanged a few words with Mr. Loth and ever since I feel a clearness about things that does me so much good ...

HOFFMANN

[_In a rebukeful tone._] What I tell you is by no means absurd!

HELEN

One has to have a sense for the absurd, and that's what you haven't.

HOFFMANN

[_In the same manner._] That isn't what we're discussing. I assure you once more that what I tell you is not at all absurd, but something that I must ask you to take as actually true ... I have my own experience to guide me. Notions like that befog one's mind; one rants of universal brotherhood, of liberty and equality and, of course, transcends every convention and every moral law.... In those old days, for the sake of this very nonsense, we were ready to walk over the bodies of our parents to gain our ends ... Heaven knows it. And he, I tell you, would be prepared, in a given case, to do the same thing to-day.

HELEN

And how many parents, do you suppose, walk year in and out over the bodies of their children without anybody's ...

HOFFMANN

[_Interrupting her._] That is _nonsense_! Why, that's the end of all.... I tell you to take care, in every ... I tell you emphatically, in _every_ respect. You won't find a trace of moral scrupulousness in that quarter.

HELEN

Oh, dear, how absurd that sounds again. I tell you, when once you begin to take notice of things like that ... it's awfully interesting.

HOFFMANN

You may say what you please. I have warned you. Only I will tell you quite in confidence: at the time of that incident I very nearly got into the same damnable mess myself.

HELEN

But if he's such a dangerous man, why were you sincerely delighted yesterday when he ...

HOFFMANN

Good Lord, I knew him when I was young. And how do you know that I didn't have very definite reasons for ...

HELEN

Reasons? Of what kind?

HOFFMANN

Never mind.--Though, if he came; to-day, and if I knew what I do know to-day--

HELEN

What is it that you know? I've told you already that he didn't utter one word about you.

HOFFMANN

Well, you may depend on it that if that had been the case, I would have thought it all over very carefully, and would probably have taken good care not to keep him here. Loth is now and always will be a man whose acquaintance compromises you. The authorities have an eye on him.

HELEN

Why? Has he committed a crime?

HOFFMANN

The less said about it the better. Just let this assurance be sufficient for you: to go about the world to-day, entertaining his opinions, is far worse and, above all, far more dangerous than stealing.

HELEN

I will remember.--But now--listen! After all your talk about Mr. Loth, you needn't ask me any more what I think of you.--Do you hear?

HOFFMANN

[_With cold cynicism._] Do you suppose that I'm so greatly concerned to know that? [_He presses the electric button._] And, anyhow, I hear him coming in.

LOTH _enters._

HOFFMANN

Hallo! Did you sleep well, old man?

LOTH

Well, but not long. Tell me this, though: I saw a gentleman leaving the house a while ago.

HOFFMANN

Probably the doctor. He was here a while ago. I told you about him, didn't I?--this queer mixture of hardness and sentimentality.

_HELEN gives instructions to EDWARD, who has just entered. He leaves and returns shortly, serving tea and coffee._

LOTH

This mixture, as you call him, happened to resemble an old friend of my student days most remarkably. In fact, I could have taken my oath that it was a certain--Schimmelpfennig.

HOFFMANN

[_Sitting down at the breakfast table._] That's quite right--Schimmelpfennig.

LOTH

Quite right? You mean?

HOFFMANN

That his name is really Schimmelpfennig.

LOTH

Who? The doctor here?

HOFFMANN

Yes, certainly, the doctor.

LOTH

Now that is really strange enough. Then of course, it's he?

HOFFMANN