Chapter VIII (5)

You has your girls, any way. You've a husband as c'n work. Mine was taken with one o' his fits last week again--so bad that I didn't know what to do with him, and was half out o' my mind with fright. And when he's had a turn like that, he can't stir out o' bed under a week.

MOTHER BAUMERT

Mine's no better. He's goin' to pieces, too. He's breathin's bad now as well as his back. An' there's not a farthin' nor a farthin's worth in the house. If he don't bring a few pence with him today, I don't know what we're to do.

EMMA

It's the truth she's tellin' you, Jenny. We had to let father take the little dog with him to-day, to have him killed, that we might get a bite into our stomachs again!

MRS. HEINRICH

Haven't you got as much as a handful o' flour to spare?

MOTHER BAUMERT

An' that we haven't, Jenny. There's not as much as a grain o' salt in the house.

MRS. HEINRICH

Well, then, I don't know ... [_Rises, stands still, brooding._] I don't know what'll be the end o' this! It's more'n I c'n bear. [_Screams in rage and despair._] I'd be contented if it was nothin' but pigs' food!--But I can't go home again empty-handed--that I can't. God forgive me, I see no other way out of it.

[_She limps quickly out._

MOTHER BAUMERT

[_Calls after her in a warning voice._] Jenny, Jenny! don't you be doin' anything foolish, now!

BERTHA

She'll do herself no harm, mother. You needn't be afraid.

EMMA

That's the way she always goes on.

[_Seats herself at the loom and weaves for a few seconds._

_AUGUST enters, carrying a tallow candle, and lighting his father,
OLD BAUMERT, who follows close behind him, staggering under a heavy
bundle of yarn._

MOTHER BAUMERT

Oh, father, where have you been all this long time? Where have you been?

OLD BAUMERT

Come now, mother, don't fall on a man like that. Give me time to get my breath first. An' look who I've brought with me.

_MORITZ JAEGER comes stooping in at the low door. Reserve soldier,
newly discharged. Middle height, rosy-cheeked, military carriage. His
cap on the side of his head, hussar fashion, whole clothes and shoes,
a clean shirt without collar. Draws himself up and salutes._

JAEGER

[_In a hearty voice._] Good-evenin', auntie Baumert!

MOTHER BAUMERT

Well, well now! and to think you've got back! An' you've not forgotten us? Take a chair, then, lad.

EMMA

[_Wiping a wooden chair with her apron, and pushing it towards MORITZ._] An' so you've come to see what poor folks is like again, Moritz?

JAEGER

I say, Emma, is it true that you've got a boy nearly old enough to be a soldier? Where did you get hold o' him, eh?

[_BERTHA, having taken the small supply of provisions which her
father has brought, puts meat into a saucepan, and shoves it into the
oven, while AUGUST lights the fire._

BERTHA

You knew weaver Finger, didn't you?

MOTHER BAUMERT

We had him here in the house with us. He was ready enough to marry her; but he was too far gone in consumption; he was as good as a dead man. It didn't happen for want o' warnin' from me. But do you think she would listen? Not she. Now he's dead an' forgotten long ago, an' she's left with the boy to provide for as best she can. But now tell us how you've been gettin' on, Moritz.

OLD BAUMERT

You've only to look at him, mother, to know that. He's had luck. It'll be about as much as he can do to speak to the likes o' us. He's got clothes like a prince, an' a silver watch, an' thirty shillings in his pocket into the bargain.

JAEGER

[_Stretching himself consequentially, a knowing smile on his face._] I can't complain, I didn't get on so badly in the regiment.

OLD BAUMERT

He was the major's own servant. Just listen to him--he speaks like a gentleman.

JAEGER

I've got so accustomed to it that I can't help it.

MOTHER BAUMERT

Well, now, to think that such a good-for-nothin' as you was should have come to be a rich man. For there wasn't nothin' to be made of you. You would never sit still to wind more than a hank of yarn at a time, that you wouldn't. Off you went to your tomtit boxes an' your robin redbreast snares--they was all you cared about. Isn't it the truth I'm telling?

JAEGER

Yes, yes, auntie, it's true enough. It wasn't only redbreasts. I went after swallows too.

EMMA

Though we were always tellin' you that swallows was poison.

JAEGER

What did I care?--But how have you all been gettin' on, auntie Baumert?

MOTHER BAUMERT

Oh, badly, lad, badly these last four years. I've had the rheumatics--just look at them hands. An' it's more than likely as I've had a stroke o' some kind too, I'm that helpless. I can hardly move a limb, an' nobody knows the pains I suffers.

OLD BAUMERT

She's in a bad way, she is. She'll not hold out long.

BERTHA

We've to dress her in the mornin' an' undress her at night, an' to feed her like a baby.

MOTHER BAUMERT

[_Speaking in a complaining, tearful voice._] Not a thing c'n I do for myself. It's far worse than bein' ill. For it's not only a burden to myself I am, but to every one else. Often and often do I pray to God to take me. For oh! mine's a weary life. I don't know ... p'r'aps they think ... but I'm one that's been a hard worker all my days. An' I've always been able to do my turn too; but now, all at once, [_she vainly attempts to rise_] I can't do nothin'.--I've a good husband an' good children, but to have to sit here and see them...! Look at the girls! There's hardly any blood left in them--faces the colour of a sheet. But on they must work at these weary looms whether they earn enough to keep theirselves or not. What sort o' life is it they lead? Their feet never off the treadle from year's end to year's end. An' with it all they can't scrape together as much as'll buy them clothes that they can let theirselves be seen in; never a step can they go to church, to hear a word o' comfort. They're liker scarecrows than young girls of fifteen and twenty.

BERTHA

[_At the stove._] It's beginnin' to smoke again!

OLD BAUMERT

There now; look at that smoke. And we can't do nothin' for it. The whole stove's goin' to pieces. We must let it fall, and swallow the soot. We're coughin' already, one worse than the other. We may cough till we choke, or till we cough our lungs up--nobody cares.

JAEGER

But this here is Ansorge's business; he must see to the stove.

BERTHA

He'll see us out o' the house first; he has plenty against us without that.

MOTHER BAUMERT

We've only been in his way this long time past.

OLD BAUMERT

One word of a complaint an' out we go. He's had no rent from us this last half-year.

MOTHER BAUMERT

A well-off man like him needn't be so hard.

OLD BAUMERT

He's no better off than we is, mother. He's hard put to it too, for all he holds his tongue about it.

MOTHER BAUMERT

He's got his house.

OLD BAUMERT

What are you talkin' about, mother? Not one stone in the wall is the man's own.

JAEGER

[_Has seated himself, and taken a short pipe with gay tassels out of one coat-pocket, and a quart bottle of brandy out of another._] Things can't go on like this. I'm dumfoundered when I see the life the people live here. The very dogs in the towns live better.

OLD BAUMERT

[_Eagerly._] That's what I says! Eh? eh? You know it too! But if you say that here, they'll tell you that it's only bad times.

_Enter ANSORGE, an earthenware pan with soup in one hand, in the
other a half-finished quarter-bushel basket._

ANSORGE

Glad to see you again, Moritz!

JAEGER

Thank you, father Ansorge--same to you!

ANSORGE

[_Shoving his pan into the oven._] Why, lad you look like a duke!

OLD BAUMERT

Show him your watch, Moritz. An' he's got a new suit of clothes, an' thirty shillings cash.

ANSORGE

[_Shaking his head._] Is that so? Well, well!

EMMA

[_Puts the potato-parings into a bag._] I must be off; I'll maybe get a drop o' buttermilk for these.

[_Goes out._

JAEGER

[_The others hanging intently and devoutly on his words._] You know how you all used to be down on me. It was always: Wait, Moritz, till your soldierin' time comes--you'll catch it then. But you see how well I've got on. At the end o' the first half-year I had my good conduct stripes. You've got to be willin'--that's where the secret lies. I brushed the sergeant's boots; I groomed his horse; I fetched his beer. I was as sharp as a needle. Always ready, accoutrements clean and shinin'--first at stables, first at roll-call, first in the saddle. An' when the bugle sounded to the assault--why, then, blood and thunder, and ride to the devil with you!! I was as keen as a pointer. Says I to myself: There's no help for it now, my boy, it's got to be done; and I set my mind to it and did it. Till at last the major said before the whole squadron: There's a hussar now that shows you what a hussar should be!

[_Silence. He lights his pipe._

ANSORGE

[_Shaking his head._] Well, well, well! You had luck with you, Moritz!

[_Sits down on the floor, with his willow twigs beside him, and
continues mending the basket, which he holds between his legs._

OLD BAUMERT

Let's hope you've brought some of it to us.--Are we to have a drop to drink your health in?

JAEGER

Of course you are, father Baumert. And when this bottle's done, we'll send for more.

[_He flings a coin on the table._

ANSORGE

[_Open mouthed with amusement._] Oh my! Oh my! What goings on to be sure! Roast meat frizzlin' in the oven! A bottle o' brandy on the table! [_He drinks out of the bottle._] Here's to you, Moritz!--Well, well, well!

[_The bottle circulates freely after this._

OLD BAUMERT

If we could any way have a bit o' meat on Sundays and holidays, instead o' never seein' the sight of it from year's end to year's end! Now we'll have to wait till another poor little dog finds its way into the house like this one did four weeks gone by--an' that's not likely to happen soon again.

ANSORGE

Have you killed the little dog?

OLD BAUMERT

We had to do that or starve.

ANSORGE

Well, well! That's so!

MOTHER BAUMERT

A nice, kind little beast he was, too!

JAEGER

Are you as keen as ever on roast dog hereabouts?

OLD BAUMERT

Lord, if we could only get enough of it!

MOTHER BAUMERT

A nice little bit o' meat like that does you a lot o' good.

OLD BAUMERT

Have you lost the taste for it, Moritz? Stay with us a bit, and it'll soon come back to you.

ANSORGE

[_Sniffing._] Yes, yes! That will be a tasty bite--what a good smell it has!

OLD BAUMERT

[_Sniffing._] Fine as spice, you might say.

ANSORGE

Come, then, Moritz, tell us your opinion, you that's been out and seen the world. Is things at all like to improve for us weavers, eh?

JAEGER

They would need to.

ANSORGE

We're in an awful state here. It's not livin' an' it's not dyin'. A man fights to the bitter end, but he's bound to be beat at last--to be left without a roof over his head, you may say without ground under his feet. As long as he can work at the loom he can earn some sort o poor, miserable livin'. But it's many a day since I've been able to get that sort o' job. Now I tries to put a bite into my mouth with this here basket-mak-in'. I sits at it late into the night, and by the time I tumbles into bed I've earned three-halfpence. I puts it to you as knows things, if a man can live on that, when everything's so dear? Nine shillin' goes in one lump for house tax, three shillin' for land tax, nine shillin' for mortgage interest--that makes one pound one. I may reckon my year's earnin' at just double that money, and that leaves me twenty-one shillin' for a whole year's food, an' fire, an' clothes, an' shoes; and I've got to keep up some sort of a place to live in. An' there's odds an' ends. Is it a wonder if I'm behindhand with my interest payments?

OLD BAUMERT

Some one would need to go to Berlin an' tell the King how hard put to it we are.

JAEGER

Little good that would do, father Baumert. There's been plenty written about it in the news-papers. But the rich people, they can turn and twist things round ... as cunning as the devil himself.

OLD BAUMERT

[_Shaking his head._] To think they've no more sense than that in Berlin.

ANSORGE

And is it really true, Moritz? Is there no law to help us? If a man hasn't been able to scrape together enough to pay his mortgage interest, though he's worked the very skin off his hands, must his house be taken from him? The peasant that's lent the money on it, he wants his rights--what else can you look for from him? But what's to be the end of it all, I don't know.--If I'm put out o' the house ... [_In a voice choked by tears._] I was born here, and here my father sat at his loom for more than forty year. Many was the time he said to mother: Mother, when I'm gone, keep hold o' the house. I've worked hard for it. Every nail means a night's weavin', every plank a year's dry bread. A man would think that ...

JAEGER

They're just as like to take the last bite out of your mouth--that's what they are.

ANSORGE

Well, well, well! I would rather be carried out than have to walk out now in my old days. Who minds dyin'? My father, he was glad to die. At the very end he got frightened, but I crept into bed beside him, an' he quieted down again. Think of it; I was a lad of thirteen then. I was tired and fell asleep beside him--I knew no better--and when I woke he was quite cold.

MOTHER BAUMERT

[_After a pause._] Give Ansorge his soup out o' the oven, Bertha.

BERTHA

Here, father Ansorge, it'll do you good.

ANSORGE

[_Eating and shedding tears._] Well, well, well!

[_OLD BAUMERT has begun to eat the meat out of the saucepan._

MOTHER BAUMERT

Father, father, can't you have patience an' let Bertha serve it up properly?

OLD BAUMERT

[_Chewing._] It's two years now since I took the sacrament. I went straight after that an' sold my Sunday coat, an' we bought a good bit o' pork, an' since then never a mouthful of meat has passed my lips till to-night.

JAEGER

_We_ don't need no meat! The manufacturers eats it for us. It's the fat o' the land _they_ lives on. Whoever don't believe that has only to go down to Bielau and Peterswaldau. He'll see fine things there--palace upon palace, with towers and iron railings and plate-glass windows. Who do they all belong to? Why, of course, the manufacturers! No signs of bad times there! Baked and boiled and fried--horses and carriages and governesses--they've money to pay for all that and goodness knows how much more. They're swelled out to burstin' with pride and good livin'.

ANSORGE

Things was different in my young days. Then the manufacturers let the weaver have his share. Now they keeps everything to theirselves. An' would you like to know what's at the bottom of it all? It's that the fine folks nowadays believes neither in God nor devil. What do they care about commandments or punishments? And so they steals our last scrap o' bread, an' leaves us no chance of earnin' the barest living. For it's their fault. If our manufacturers was good men, there would be no bad times for us.

JAEGER

Listen, then, and I'll read you something that will please you. [_He takes one or two loose papers from his pocket._] I say, August, run and fetch another quart from the public-house. Eh, boy, do you laugh all day long?

MOTHER BAUMERT

No one knows why, but our August's always happy--grins an' laughs, come what may. Off with you then, quick! [_Exit AUGUST with the empty brandy-bottle._] You've got something good now, eh, father?

OLD BAUMERT

[_Still chewing; his spirits are rising from the effect of food and drink._] Moritz, you're the very man we want. You can read an' write. You understand the weavin' trade, and you've a heart to feel for the poor weavers' sufferin's. You should stand up for us here.

JAEGER

I'd do that quick enough! There's nothing I'd like better than to give the manufacturers round here a bit of a fright--dogs that they are! I'm an easy-goin' fellow, but let me once get worked up into a real rage, and I'll take Dreissiger in the one hand and Dittrich in the other, and knock their heads together till the sparks fly out o' their eyes.--If we could only arrange all to join together, we'd soon give the manufacturers a proper lesson ... we wouldn't need no King an' no Government ... all we'd have to do would be to say: We wants this and that, and we don't want the other thing. There would be a change of days then. As soon as they see that there's some pluck in us, they'll cave in. I know the rascals; they're a pack o' cowardly hounds.

MOTHER BAUMERT

There's some truth in what you say. I'm not a bad woman. I've always been the one to say as how there must be rich folks as well as poor. But when things come to such a pass as this ...

JAEGER

The devil may take them all, for what I care. It would be no more than they deserves.

[_OLD BAUMERT has quietly gone out._

BERTHA

Where's father?

MOTHER BAUMERT

I don't know where he can have gone.

BERTHA

Do you think he's not been able to stomach the meat, with not gettin' none for so long?

MOTHER BAUMERT

[_In distress, crying._] There now, there! He's not even able to keep it down when he's got it. Up it comes again, the only bite o' good food as he's tasted this many a day.

_Re-enter OLD BAUMERT, crying with rage._

OLD BAUMERT

It's no good! I'm too far gone! Now that I've at last got hold of somethin' with a taste in it, my stomach won't keep it.

[_He sits down on the bench by the stove crying._

JAEGER

[_With a sudden violent ebullition of rage._] An' yet there's people not far from here, justices they call themselves too, over-fed brutes, that have nothing to do all the year round but invent new ways of wastin' their time. An' these people say that the weavers would be quite well off if only they wasn't so lazy.

ANSORGE

The men as says that are no men at all, they're monsters.

JAEGER

Never mind, father Ansorge; we're makin' the place hot for 'em. Becker and I have been and given Dreissiger a piece of our mind, and before we came away we sang him "Bloody Justice."

ANSORGE

Good Lord! Is that the song?

JAEGER

Yes; I have it here.

ANSORGE

They calls it Dreissiger's song, don't they?

JAEGER

I'll read it to you,

MOTHER BAUMERT

Who wrote it?

JAEGER

That's what nobody knows. Now listen.

[_He reads, hesitating like a schoolboy, with incorrect accentuation,
but unmistakably strong feeling. Despair, suffering, rage, hatred,
thirst for revenge, all find utterance._

The justice to us weavers dealt
Is bloody, cruel, and hateful;
Our life's one torture, long drawn out:
For Lynch law we'd be grateful.

Stretched on the rack day after day,
Hearts sick and bodies aching,
Our heavy sighs their witness bear
To spirit slowly breaking.

[_The words of the song make a strong impression on OLD BAUMERT.
Deeply agitated, he struggles against the temptation to interrupt
JAEGER. At last he can keep quiet no longer._

OLD BAUMERT [_To his wife, half laughing, half crying, stammering._] Stretched on the rack day after day. Whoever wrote that, mother, wrote the truth. You can bear witness ... eh, how does it go? "Our heavy sighs their witness bear" ... What's the rest?

JAEGER

"To spirit slowly breaking."

OLD BAUMERT

You know the way we sigh, mother, day and night, sleepin' and wakin'.

[_ANSORGE had stopped working, and cowers on the floor, strongly
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

He's quite right. Stop that singin', lads.

BECKER

[_Roars._] But we must march past Dreissiger's, boys, and let him hear it ones more.

WIEGAND

You'd better take care--you may march once too often!

[_Laughter and cries of_ Ho, ho!

_WITTIG has entered; a grey-haired old smith, bareheaded, with
leather apron and wooden shoes, sooty from the smithy. He is standing
at the counter waiting for his schnapps._

WITTIG

Let 'em go on with their doin's. The dogs as barks most, bites least.

OLD WEAVERS

Wittig, Wittig!

WITTIG

Here he is. What do you want with him?

OLD WEAVERS

"It's Wittig!"--"Wittig, Wittig!"--"Come here, Wittig."--"Sit beside us, Wittig."

WITTIG

Do you think I would sit beside a set of rascals like you?

JAEGER

Come and take a glass with us.

WITTIG

Keep your brandy to yourselves. I pay for my own drink. [_Takes his glass and sits down beside BAUMERT and ANSORGE. Clapping the latter on the stomach._] What's the weavers' food so nice? Sauerkraut and roasted lice!

OLD BAUMERT

[_Drunk with excitement._] But what would you say now if they'd made up their minds as how they would put up with it no longer.

WITTIG

[_With pretended astonishment, staring open-mouthed at the old weaver._] Heinerle! you don't mean to tell me that that's you? [_Laughs immoderately._] O Lord, O Lord! I could laugh myself to death. Old Baumert risin' in rebellion! We'll have the tailors at it next, and then there'll be a rebellion among the baa-lambs, and the rats and the mice. Damn it all, but we'll see some sport.

[_He nearly splits with laughter._

OLD BAUMERT

You needn't go on like that, Wittig. I'm the same man I've always been. I still say 'twould be better if things could be put right peaceably.

WITTIG

Rot! How could it be done peaceably? Did they do it peaceably in France? Did Robespeer tickle the rich men's palms? No! It was: Away with them, every one! To the gilyoteen with 'em! Allongs onfong! You've got your work before you. The geese'll not fly ready roasted into your mouths.

OLD BAUMERT

If I could make even half a livin' ...

FIRST OLD WEAVER

The water's up to our chins now, Wittig.

SECOND OLD WEAVER

We're afraid to go home. It's all the same whether we works or whether we lies abed; it's starvation both ways.

FIRST OLD WEAVER

A man's like to go mad at home.

OLD ANSORGE

I've come to that pass now that I don't care how things goes.

OLD WEAVERS

[_With increasing excitement._] "We've no peace anywhere."--"We've no spirit left to work."--"Up with us in Steenkunzendorf you can see a weaver sittin' by the stream washin' hisself the whole day long, naked as God made him. It's driven him clean out of his mind."

THIRD OLD WEAVER

[_Moved by the spirit, stands up and begins to "speak with tongues," stretching out his hand threateningly._] Judgement is at hand! Have no dealings with the rich and the great! Judgement is at hand! The Lord God of Sabaoth ...

[_Some of the weavers laugh. He is pulled down on to his seat._

WELZEL

That's a chap that can't stand a single glass--he gets wild at once.

THIRD OLD WEAVER

[_Jumps up again._] But they--they believe not in God, not in hell, not in heaven. They mock at religion....

FIRST OLD WEAVER

Come, come now, that's enough!

BECKER

You let him do his little bit o' preaching. There's many a one would be the better for takin' it to heart.

VOICES

[_In excited confusion._] "Let him alone!" "Let him speak!"

THIRD OLD WEAVER

[_Raising his voice._] But hell is opened, saith the Lord; its jaws are gaping wide, to swallow up all those that oppress the afflicted and pervert judgement in the cause of the poor. [_Wild excitement._]

THIRD OLD WEAVER

[_Suddenly declaiming schoolboy fashion._]

When one has thought upon it well,
It's still more difficult to tell
Why they the linen-weaver's work despise.

BECKER

But we're fustian-weavers, man.

[_Laughter._

HORNIG

The linen-weavers is ever so much worse off than you. They're wanderin' about among the hills like ghosts. You people here have still got the pluck left in you to kick up a row.

WITTIG

Do you suppose the worst's over here? It won't be long till the manufacturers drain away that little bit of strength they still has left in their bodies.

BECKER

You know what he said: It will come to the weavers workin' for a bite of bread.

[_Uproar._

SEVERAL OLD AND YOUNG WEAVERS

Who said that?

BECKER

Dreissiger said it.

A YOUNG WEAVER

The damned rascal should be hung up by the heels.

JAEGER

Look here, Wittig. You've always jawed such a lot about the French Revolution, and a good deal too about your own doings. A time may be coming, and that before long, when every one will have a chance to show whether he's a braggart or a true man.

WITTIG

[_Flaring up angrily._] Say another word if you dare! Has you heard the whistle o' bullets? Has you done outpost duty in an enemy's country?

JAEGER

You needn't get angry about it. We're comrades. I meant no harm.

WITTIG

None of your comradeship for me, you impudent young fool.

_Enter KUTSCHE, the policeman._

SEVERAL VOICES

Hush--sh! Police!

[_This calling goes on for some time, till at last there is complete
silence, amidst which KUTSCHE takes his place at the central pillar
table._

KUTSCHE

A small brandy, please.

[_Again complete silence._]

WITTIG

I suppose you've come to see if we're all behavin' ourselves, Kutsche?

KUTSCHE

[_Paying no attention to WITTIG._] Good-morning, Mr. Wiegand.

WIEGAND

[_Still in the corner in front of the counter._] Good morning t'you.

KUTSCHE

How's trade?

WIEGAND

Thank you, much as usual.

BECKER

The chief constable's sent him to see if we're spoilin' our stomach on these big wages we're gettin'.

[_Laughter._

JAEGER

I say, Welzel, you will tell him how we've been feastin' on roast pork an' sauce an' dumplings and sauerkraut, and now we're sittin' at our champagne wine.

[_Laughter._

WELZEL.

The world's upside down with them to-day.

KUTSCHE

An' even if you had the champagne wine and the roast meat, you wouldn't be satisfied. I've to get on without champagne wine as well as you.

BECKER

[_Referring to KUTSCHE'S nose._] He waters his beet-root with brandy and gin. An' it thrives on it too.