The Dramatic Works of Gerhart Hauptmann Volume I Part 53

MOTHER BAUMERT.

BERTHA BAUMERT

EMMA BAUMERT

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

AUGUST BAUMERT.

OLD ANSORGE.

MRS. HEINRICH.

OLD HILSE.

MOTHER HILSE.

GOTTLIEB HILSE.

LUISE, GOTTLIEB'S _wife._

MIELCHEN, _their daughter (six years old)._

REIMANN, _weaver._

HELEN, _weaver._

A WEAVER'S WIFE.

_A number of weavers, young and old, of both s.e.xes._

The action pa.s.ses in the Forties, at Kaschbach, Peterswaldau and Langenbielau, in the Eulengebirge.

THE FIRST ACT

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

_It is a sultry day towards the end of May. The clock is on the stroke of twelve. Most of the waiting work-people have the air of standing before the bar of justice, in torturing expectation of a decision that means life or death to them. They are marked too by the anxious timidity characteristic of the receiver of charity, who has suffered many humiliations, and, conscious that he is barely tolerated, has acquired the habit of self-effacement. Add to this a rigid expression on every face that tells of constant, fruitless brooding. There is a general resemblance among the men. They have something about them of the dwarf, something of the schoolmaster. The majority are flat-breasted, short-minded, sallow, and poor looking--creatures of the loom, their knees bent with much silting.

At a, first glance the women show fewer typical traits. They look over-driven, worried, reckless, whereas the men still make some show of a pitiful self-respect; and their clothes are ragged, while the men's are patched and mended. Some of the young girls are not without a certain charm, consisting in a wax-like pallor, a slender figure, and large, projecting, melancholy eyes._

NEUMANN

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

WEAVER'S WIFE

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

Thank you, sir.

NEUMANN

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

WEAVER'S WIFE

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

NEUMANN

And I need a few pounds. If it was only a question of needing it--!

[_Already occupied in counting out another weaver's money, gruffly._]

It's Mr. Dreissiger who settles about pay in advance.

WEAVER'S WIFE

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

PFEIFER

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

APPRENTICE

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

PFEIFER

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

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

BECKER

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

FIRST WEAVER

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

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

OLD BAUMERT

A man has a right to a rest after that.