agitated. MOTHER BAUMERT and BERTHA wipe their eyes frequently during
the course of the reading._
JAEGER
[_Continues to read._]
The Dreissigers true hangmen are,
Servants no whit behind them;
Masters and men with one accord
Set on the poor to grind them.
You villains all, you brood of hell ...
OLD BAUMERT
[_Trembling with rage, stamping on the floor._] Yes, brood of hell!!!
JAEGER
[_Reads._]
You fiends in fashion human,
A curse will fall on all like you,
Who prey on man and woman.
ANSORGE
Yes, yes, a curse upon them!
OLD BAUMERT
[_Clenching his fist, threateningly._] You prey on man and woman.
JAEGER
[_Reads._]
The suppliant knows he asks in vain,
Vain every word that's spoken.
"If not content, then go and starve--
Our rules cannot be broken."
OLD BAUMERT
What is it? "The suppliant knows he asks in vain"? Every word of it's
true ... every word ... as true as the Bible. He knows he asks in vain.
ANSORGE
Yes, yes! It's all no good.
JAEGER
[_Reads._]
Then think of all our woe and want,
O ye who hear this ditty!
Our struggle vain for daily bread
Hard hearts would move to pity.
But pity's what _you've_ never known,
You'd take both skin and clothing,
You cannibals, whose cruel deeds
Fill all good men with loathing.
OLD BAUMERT
[_Jumps up, beside himself with excitement._] Both skin and clothing.
It's true, it's all true! Here I stands, Robert Baumert, master-weaver of
Kaschbach. Who can bring up anything against me?... I've been an honest,
hard-workin' man all my life long, an' look at me now! What have I to
show for it? Look at me! See what they've made of me! Stretched on the
rack day after day, [_He holds out his arms._] Feel that! Skin and bone!
"You villains all, you brood of hell!!"
[_He sinks down on a chair, weeping with rage and despair._
ANSORGE
[_Flings his basket from him into a corner, rises, his whole body
trembling with rage, gasps._] An' the time's come now for a change, I
say. We'll stand it no longer! We'll stand it no longer! Come what may!
END OF THE SECOND ACT
THE THIRD ACT
_The common-room of the principal public-house in Peterswaldau. A
large room with a raftered roof supported by a central wooden pillar,
round which a table runs. In the back mall, a little to the right of
the pillar, is the entrance-door, through the opening of which the
spacious lobby or outer room is seen, with barrels and brewing
utensils. To the right of this door, in the corner, is the bar--a
high wooden counter with receptacles for beer-mugs, glasses, etc.; a
cupboard with rows of brandy and liqueur bottles on the wall behind,
and between counter and cupboard a narrow space for the barkeeper. In
front of the bar stands a table with a gay-coloured cover, a pretty
lamp hanging above it, and several cane chairs placed around it. Not
far off, in the right wall, is a door with the inscription: Bar
Parlour. Nearer the front on the same side an old eight-day clock
stands ticking. At the back, to the left of the entrance-door, is a
table with bottles and glasses, and beyond this, in the corner, is
the great tile-oven. In the left wall there are three small windows.
Below them runs a long bench; and in front of each stands a large
oblong wooden table, with the end towards the wall. There are benches
with backs along the sides of these tables, and at the end of each
facing the window stands a wooden chair. The walls are washed blue
and decorated with advertisements, coloured prints and oleographs,
among the latter a portrait of Frederick William IV._
_WELZEL, the publican, a good-natured giant, upwards of fifty, stands
behind the counter, letting beer run from a barrel into a glass._
_MRS. WELZEL is ironing by the stove. She is a handsome, tidily
dressed woman in her thirty-fifth year._
_ANNA WELZEL, a good-looking girl of seventeen, with a quantity of
beautiful, fair, reddish hair, sits, neatly dressed, with her
embroidery, at the table with the coloured cover. She looks up from
her work for a moment and listens, as the sound of a funeral hymn
sung by school-children is heard in the distance._
_WIEGAND, the joiner, in his working clothes, is sitting at the same
table, with a glass of Bavarian beer before him. His face shows that
he understands what the world requires of a man if he is to attain
his ends--namely, craftiness, swiftness, and relentless pushing
forward._
_A COMMERCIAL TRAVELLER is seated at the pillar-table, vigorously
masticating a beef-steak. He is of middle height, stout and
thriving-looking, inclined to jocosity, lively, and impudent. He is
dressed in the fashion of the day, and his portmanteau, pattern-case,
umbrella, overcoat, and travelling rug lie on chairs beside him._
WELZEL
[_Carrying a glass of beer to the TRAVELLER, but addressing WIEGAND._]
The devil's broke loose in Peterswaldau to-day.
WIEGAND
[_In a sharp, shrill voice._] That's because it's delivery day at
Dreissiger's.
MRS. WELZEL
But they don't generally make such an awful row.
WIEGAND
It's may be because of the two hundred new weavers that he's going to
take on.
MRS. WELZEL
[_At her ironing._] Yes, yes, that'll be it. If he wants two hundred, six
hundred's sure to have come. There's no lack of _them_.
WIEGAND
No, they'll last. There's no fear of their dying out, let them be ever so
badly off. They bring more children into the world than we know what to
do with. [_The strains of the funeral hymn are suddenly heard more
distinctly._] There's a funeral to-day too. Weaver Nentwich is dead, you
know.
WELZEL
He's been long enough about it. He's been goin' about like a livin' ghost
this many a long day.
WIEGAND
You never saw such a little coffin, Welzel; it was the tiniest,
miserablest little thing I ever glued together. And what a corpse! It
didn't weigh ninety pounds.
TRAVELLER
[_His mouth full._] What I don't understand's this.... Take up whatever
paper you like and you'll find the most heartrending accounts of the
destitution among the weavers. You get the impression that three-quarters
of the people in this neighbourhood are starving. Then you come and see a
funeral like what's going on just now. I met it as I came into the
village. Brass band, schoolmaster, school children, pastor, and such a
procession behind them that you would think it was the Emperor of China
that was getting buried. If the people have money to spend on this sort
of thing, well...! [_He takes a drink of beer; puts down the glass;
suddenly and jocosely._] What do you say to it, Miss? Don't you agree
with me?
[ANNA _gives an embarrassed laugh, and goes on working busily._
TRAVELLER
Now, I'll take a bet that these are slippers for papa.
WELZEL
You're wrong, then; I wouldn't put such things on my feet.
TRAVELLER
You don't say so! Now, I would give half of what I'm worth if these
slippers were for me.
MRS. WELZEL
Oh, he don't know nothing about such things.
WIEGAND
[_Has coughed once or twice, moved his chair, and prepared himself to
speak._] You were sayin', sir, that you wondered to see such a funeral as
this. I tell you, and Mrs. Welzel here will bear me out, that it's quite
a small funeral.
TRAVELLER
But, my good man ... what a monstrous lot of money it must cost! Where
does all that come from?
WIEGAND
If you'll excuse me for saying so, sir, there's a deal of foolishness
among the poorer working people hereabouts. They have a kind of
inordinate idea, if I may say so, of the respect an' duty an' honour
they're bound to show to such as is taken from their midst. And when it
comes to be a case of parents, then there's no bounds whatever to their
superstitiousness. The children and the nearest family scrapes together
every farthing they can call their own, an' what's still wanting, that
they borrow from some rich man. They run themselves into debt over head
and ears; they're owing money to the pastor, to the sexton, and to all
concerned. Then there's the victuals, an' the drink, an' such like. No,
sir, I'm far from speaking against dutifulness to parents; but it's too
much when it goes the length of the mourners having to bear the weight of
it for the rest of their lives.
TRAVELLER
But surely the pastor might reason them out of such foolishness.
WIEGAND
Begging your pardon, sir, but I must mention that every little place
hereabouts has its church an' its reverend pastor to support. These
honourable gentlemen has their advantages from big funerals. The larger
the attendance is, the larger the offertory is bound to be. Whoever knows
the circumstances connected with the working classes here, sir, will
assure you that the pastors are strong against quiet funerals.
_Enter HORNIG, the rag dealer, a little bandy-legged old man, with a
strap round his chest._
HORNIG
Good-mornin', ladies and gentlemen! A glass o' schnapps, if you please,
Mr. Welzel. Has the young mistress anything for me to-day? I've got
beautiful ribbons in my cart, Miss Anna, an' tapes, an' garters, an' the
very best of pins an' hairpins an' hooks an' eyes. An' all in exchange
for a few rags. [_In a changed voice._] An'out of them rags fine white
paper's to be made, for your sweetheart to write you a letter on.
ANNA
Thank you, but I've nothing to do with sweethearts.
MRS. WELZEL
[_Putting a bolt into her iron._] No, she's not that kind. She'll not
hear of marrying.
TRAVELLER
[_Jumps up, affecting delighted surprise, goes forward to ANNA'S table,
and holds out his hand to her across it._] That's sensible, Miss. You and
I think alike in this matter. Give me your hand on it. We'll both remain
single.
ANNA
[_Blushing scarlet, gives him her hand._] But you are married already!
TRAVELLER
Not a bit of it. I only pretend to be. You think so because I wear a
ring. I only have it on my finger to protect my charms against shameless
attacks. I'm not afraid of you, though. [_He puts the ring into his
pocket._] But tell me, truly, Miss, are you quite determined never,
never, never, to marry?
ANNA
[_Shakes her head._] Oh, get along with you!
MRS. WELZEL
You may trust her to remain single unless something very extra good turns
up.
TRAVELLER
And why shouldn't it? I know of a rich Silesian proprietor who married
his mother's lady's maid. And there's Dreissiger, the rich manufacturer,
his wife is an innkeeper's daughter too, and not half so pretty as you,
Miss, though she rides in her carriage now, with servants in livery. And
why not? [_He marches about, stretching himself, and stamping his feet._]
Let me have a cup of coffee, please.
_Enter ANSORGE and OLD BAUMERT, each with a bundle. They seat
themselves meekly and silently beside HORNIG, at the front table to
the left._
WELZEL
How are you, father Ansorge? Glad to see you once again.
HORNIG
Yes, it's not often as you crawl down from that smoky old nest.
ANSORGE
[_Visibly embarrassed, mumbles._] I've been fetchin' myself a web again.
BAUMER
He's goin' to work at a shilling the web.
ANSORGE
I wouldn't ha' done it, but there's no more to be made now by
basket-weaving'.
WIEGAND
It's always better than nothin'. He does it only to give you employment.
I know Dreissiger very well. When I was up there takin' out his double
windows last week we were talkin' about it, him and me. It's out of pity
that he does it.
ANSORGE
Well, well, well! That may be so.
WELZEL
[_Setting a glass of schnapps on the table before each of the weavers._]
Here you are, then. I say, Ansorge, how long is it since you had a shave?
The gentleman over there would like to know.
TRAVELLER
[_Calls across._] Now, Mr. Welzel, you know I didn't say that. I was only
struck by the venerable appearance of the master-weaver. It isn't often
one sees such a gigantic figure.
ANSORGE
[_Scratching his head, embarrassed._] Well, well!
TRAVELLER
Such specimens of primitive strength are rare nowadays. We're all rubbed
smooth by civilisation ... but I can still take pleasure in nature
untampered with.... These bushy eyebrows! That tangled length of beard!
HORNIG
Let me tell you, sir, that them people haven't the money to pay a barber,
and as to a razor for themselves, that's altogether beyond them. What
grows, grows. They haven't nothing to throw away on their outsides.
TRAVELLER
My good friend, you surely don't imagine that I would ... [_Aside to
WELZEL._] Do you think I might offer the hairy one a glass of beer?
WELZEL
No, no; you mustn't do that. He wouldn't take it. He's got some queer
ideas in that head o' his.
TRAVELLER
All right, then, I won't. With your permission, Miss. [_He seats himself
at ANNA'S table._] I declare, Miss, that I've not been able to take my
eyes off your hair since I came in--such glossy softness, such a splendid
quantity! [_Ecstatically kisses his finger-tips._] And what a colour!...
like ripe wheat. Come to Berlin with that hair and you'll create no end
of a sensation. On my honour, with hair like that you may go to Court....
[_Leans back, looking at it._] Glorious, simply glorious!
WIEGAND
They've given her a fine name because of it.
TRAVELLER
And what may that be?
ANNA
[_Laughing quietly to herself._] Oh, don't listen to that!
HORNIG
The chestnut filly, isn't it?
WELZEL
Come now, we've had enough o' this. I'm not goin' to have the girl's head
turned altogether. She's had a-plenty of silly notions put into it
already. She'll hear of nothing under a count today, and to-morrow it'll
be a prince.
MRS. WELZEL
Don't abuse the girl, father. There's no harm in wantin' to rise in the
world. It's as well that people don't all think as you do, or nobody
would get on at all. If Dreissiger's grandfather had been of your way of
thinkin', they would be poor weavers still. And now they're rollin' in
wealth. An' look at old Tromtra. He was nothing but a weaver, too, and
now he owns twelve estates, an' he's been made a nobleman into the
bargain.
WIEGAND
Yes, Welzel, you must look at the thing fairly. Your wife's in the right
this time. I can answer for that. I'd never be where I am, with seven
workmen under me, if I had thought like you.
HORNIG
Yes, you understand the way to get on; that your worst enemy must allow.
Before the weaver has taken to bed, you're gettin' his coffin ready.
WIEGAND
A man must stick to his business if he's to get on.
HORNIG
No fear of you for that. You know before the doctor when death's on the
way to knock at a weaver's door.
WIEGAND
[_Attempting to laugh, suddenly furious._] And you know better'n the
police where the thieves are among the weavers, that keep back two or
three bobbins full every week. It's rags you ask for but you don't say
No, if there's a little yarn among them.
HORNIG
An' your corn grows in the churchyard. The more that are bedded on the
sawdust, the better for you. When you see the rows o' little children's
graves, you pats yourself on the belly and says you: This has been a good
year; the little brats have fallen like cockchafers off the trees. I can
allow myself a quart extra in the week again.
WIEGAND
And supposin' this is all true, it still don't make me a receiver of
stolen goods.
HORNIG
No; perhaps the worst you do is to send in an account twice to the rich
fustian manufacturers, or to help yourself to a plank or two at
Dreissiger's when there's building goin' on and the moon happens not to
be shinin'.
WIEGAND
[_Turning his back._] Talk to any one you like, but not to me. [_Then
suddenly._] Hornig the liar!
HORNIG
Wiegand the coffin-jobber!
WIEGAND
[_To the rest of the company._] He knows charms for bewitching cattle.
HORNIG
If you don't look out, I'll try one of 'em on you.
[_WIEGAND turns pale._
MRS. WELZEL
[_Had gone out; now returns with the TRAVELLER'S coffee; in the act of
putting it on the table._] Perhaps you would rather have it in the
parlour, sir?
TRAVELLER
Most certainly not! [_With a languishing look at ANNA._] I could sit here
till I die.
_Enter a YOUNG FORESTER and a PEASANT, the latter carrying a whip.
They wish the others_ "Good Morning," _and remain standing at the
counter._
PEASANT
Two brandies, if you please.
WELZEL
Good-morning to you, gentlemen.
[_He pours out their beverage; the two touch glasses, take a
mouthful, and then set the glasses down on the counter._
TRAVELLER
[_To FORESTER._] Come far this morning, sir?
FORESTER
From Steinseiffersdorf--that's a good step.
_Two old WEAVERS enter, and seat themselves beside ANSORGE, BAUMERT,
and HORNIG._
TRAVELLER
Excuse me asking, but are you in Count Hochheim's service?
FORESTER
No. I'm in Count Keil's.
TRAVELLER
Yes, yes, of course--that was what I meant. One gets confused here among
all the counts and barons and other gentlemen. It would take a giant's
memory to remember them all. Why do you carry an axe, if I may ask?
FORESTER
I've just taken this one from a man who was stealing wood.
OLD BAUMERT
Yes, their lordships are mighty strict with us about a few sticks for the
fire.
TRAVELLER
You must allow that if every one were to help himself to what he wanted
...
OLD BAUMERT
By your leave, sir, but there's a difference made here as elsewhere
between the big an' the little thieves. There's some here as deals in
stolen wood wholesale, and grows rich on it. But if a poor weaver ...
FIRST OLD WEAVER
[_Interrupts BAUMERT._] We're forbid to take a single branch; but their
lordships, they take the very skin off of us--we've assurance money to
pay, an' spinning-money, an' charges in kind--we must go here an' go
there, an' do so an' so much field work, all willy-nilly.
ANSORGE
That's just how it is--what the manufacturer leaves us, their lordships
takes from us.
SECOND OLD WEAVER
[_Has taken a seat at the next table._] I've said it to his lordship
hisself. By your leave, my lord, says I, it's not possible for me to work
on the estate so many days this year. I comes right out with it. For
why--my own bit of ground, my lord, it's been next to carried away by the
rains. I've to work night and day if I'm to live at all. For oh, what a
flood that was...! There I stood an' wrung my hands, an' watched the good
soil come pourin' down the hill, into the very house! And all that dear,
fine seed!... I could do nothin' but roar an' cry until I couldn't see
out o' my eyes for a week. And then I had to start an' wheel eighty heavy
barrow-loads of earth up that hill, till my back was all but broken.
PEASANT
[_Roughly._] You weavers here make such an awful outcry. As if we hadn't
all to put up with what Heaven sends us. An' if you _are_ badly off just
now, whose fault is it but your own? What did you do when trade was good?
Drank an' squandered all you made. If you had saved a bit then, you'd
have it to fall back on now when times is bad, and not need to be goin'
stealin' yarn and wood.
FIRST YOUNG WEAVER
[_Standing with several comrades in the lobby or outer room, calls in at
the door._] What's a peasant but a peasant, though he lies in bed till
nine?
FIRST OLD WEAVER
The peasant an' the count, it's the same story with 'em both. Says the
peasant when a weaver wants a house: I'll give you a little bit of a hole
to live in, an' you'll pay me so much rent in money, an' the rest of it
you'll make up by helpin' me to get in my hay an' my corn--and if that
don't please you, why, then you may go elsewhere. He tries another, and
to the second he says the same as to the first.
BAUMERT
[_Angrily._] The weaver's like a bone that every dog takes a gnaw at.
PEASANT
[_Furious._] You starvin' curs, you're no good for anything. Can you yoke
a plough? Can you draw a straight furrow or throw a bundle of sheaves on
to a cart. You're fit for nothing but to idle about an' go after the
women. A pack of scoundrelly ne'er-do-wells!
[_He has paid and now goes out._
[_The FORESTER follows, laughing. WELZEL, the joiner, and MRS. WELZEL
laugh aloud; the TRAVELLER laughs to himself. Then there is a
moment's silence._
HORNIG
A peasant like that's as stupid as his own ox. As if I didn't know all
about the distress in the villages round here. Sad sights I've seen! Four
and five lyin' naked on one sack of straw.
TRAVELLER
[_In a mildly remonstrative tone._] Allow me to remark, my good man, that
there's a great difference of opinion as to the amount of distress here
in the Eulengebirge. If you can read....
HORNIG
I can read straight off, as well as you. An' I know what I've seen with
my own eyes. It would be queer if a man that's travelled the country with
a pack on his back these forty years an' more didn't know something about
it. There was the Fullers, now. You saw the children scrapin' about among
the dung-heaps with the peasants' geese. The people up there died naked,
on the bare stone floors. In their sore need they ate the stinking
weavers' glue. Hunger carried 'em off by the hundred.
TRAVELLER
You must be aware, since you are able to read, that strict investigation
has been made by the Government, and that....
HORNIG
Yes, yes, we all know what that means. They send a gentleman that knows
all about it already better nor if he had seen it, an' he goes about a
bit in the village where the brook flows broad an' the best houses is. He
don't want to dirty his shinin' boots. Thinks he to hisself: All the
rest'll be the same as this. An' so he steps into his carriage, an'
drives away home again, an' then writes to Berlin that there's no
distress in the place at all. If he had but taken the trouble to go
higher up into a village like that, to where the stream comes in, or
across the stream on to the narrow side--or, better still, if he'd gone
up to the little out-o'-the-way hovels on the hill above, some of 'em
that black an' tumble-down as it would be the waste of a good match to
set fire to 'em--it's another kind o' report he'd have sent to Berlin.
They should ha' come to me, these government gentlemen that wouldn't
believe there was no distress here. I would ha' shown 'em something. I'd
have opened their eyes for 'em in some of these starvation holes.
[_The strains of the Weavers' Song are heard, sung outside._
WELZEL
There they are, roaring at that devil's song again.
WIEGAND
They're turning the whole place upside down.
MRS. WELZEL
You'd think there was something in the air.
_JAEGER and BECKER arm in arm, at the head of a troop of young
weavers, march noisily through the outer room and enter the bar._
JAEGER
Halt! To your places!
[_The new arrivals sit down at the various tables, and begin to talk
to other weavers already seated there._
HORNIG
[_Calls out to BECKER._] What's up now, Becker, that you've got together
a crowd like this?
BECKER
[_Significantly._] Who knows but something may be goin' to happen? Eh,
Moritz?
HORNIG
Come, come, lads. Don't you be a-gettin' of yourselves into mischief.
BECKER
Blood's flowed already. Would you like to see it?
[_He pulls up his sleeve and shows bleeding tattoo-marks on the upper
part of his arm. Many of the other young weavers do the same._
BECKER
We've been at barber Schmidt's gettin' ourselves vaccinated.
HORNIG
Now the thing's explained. Little wonder there's such an uproar in the
place, with a band of young rapscallions like you paradin' round.
JAEGER
[_Consequentially, in a loud voice._] You may bring two quarts at once,
Welzel! I pay. Perhaps you think I haven't got the needful. You're wrong,
then. If we wanted we could sit an' drink your best brandy an' swill
coffee till to-morrow morning with any bagman in the land.
[_Laughter among the young weavers._
TRAVELLER
[_Affecting comic surprise._] Is the young gentleman kind enough to take
notice of me?
[_Host, hostess, and their daughter, WIEGAND, and the TRAVELLER all
laugh._
JAEGER
If the cap fits, wear it.
TRAVELLER
Your affairs seem to be in a thriving condition, young man, if I may be
allowed to say so.
JAEGER
I can't complain. I'm a traveller in made-up goods. I go shares with the
manufacturers. The nearer starvation the weaver is, the better I fare.
His want butters my bread.
BECKER
Well done, Moritz! You gave it him that time. Here's to you!
[_WELZEL has brought the corn-brandy. On his way back to the counter
he stops, turns round slowly, and stands, an embodiment of phlegmatic
strength, facing the weavers._
WELZEL
[_Calmly but emphatically._] You let the gentleman alone. He's done you
no harm.
YOUNG WEAVERS
And we're doing him no harm.
[_MRS. WELZEL has exchanged a few words with the TRAVELLER. She takes
the cup with the remains of his coffee and carries it into the
parlour. The TRAVELLER follows her amidst the laughter of the
weavers._
YOUNG WEAVERS
[_Singing._] "The Dreissigers the hangmen are, Servants no whit behind
them."
WELZEL
Hush-sh! Sing that song anywhere else you like, but not in my house.
FIRST OLD WEAVER