



Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Keren Vergon, Thomas Berger
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THE DRAMATIC WORKS

OF

GERHART HAUPTMANN

(Authorized Edition)



Edited By LUDWIG LEWISOHN

Assistant Professor in The Ohio State University



VOLUME TWO: SOCIAL DRAMAS


1913




CONTENTS


INTRODUCTION
_By the Editor_.

DRAYMAN HENSCHEL (Fuhrmann Henschel)
_Translated by the Editor_.

ROSE BERND (Rose Bernd)
_Translated by the Editor_.

THE RATS (Die Ratten)
_Translated by the Editor_.




INTRODUCTION


The first volume of the present edition of Hauptmann's Dramatic Works is
identical in content with the corresponding volume of the German edition.
In the second volume _The Rats_ has been substituted for two early prose
tales which lie outside of the scope of our undertaking. Hence these two
volumes include that entire group of dramas which Hauptmann himself
specifically calls social. This term must not, of course, be pressed too
rigidly. Only in _Before Dawn_ and in _The Weavers_ can the dramatic
situation be said to arise wholly from social conditions rather than from
the fate of the individual. It is true, however, that in the seven plays
thus far presented all characters are viewed primarily as, in a large
measure, the results of their social environment. This environment is, in
all cases, proportionately stressed. To exhibit it fully Hauptmann uses,
beyond any other dramatist, passages which, though always dramatic in
form, are narrative and, above all, descriptive in intention. The silent
burden of these plays, the ceaseless implication of their fables, is the
injustice and inhumanity of the social order.

Hauptmann, however, has very little of the narrow and acrid temper of the
special pleader. He is content to show humanity. It is quite conceivable
that the future, forgetful of the special social problems and the
humanitarian cult of to-day, may view these plays as simply bodying forth
the passions and events that are timeless and constant in the inevitable
march of human life. The tragedies of _Drayman Henschel_ and of _Rose
Bernd_, at all events, stand in no need of the label of any decade. They
move us by their breadth and energy and fundamental tenderness.

No plays of Hauptmann produce more surely the impression of having been
dipped from the fullness of life. One does not feel that these men and
women--Hanne Schael and Siebenhaar, old Bernd and the Flamms--are called
into a brief existence as foils or props of the protagonists. They led
their lives before the plays began: they continue to live in the
imagination long after Henschel and Rose have succumbed. How does
Christopher Flamm, that excellent fellow and most breathing picture of
the average man, adjust his affairs? He is fine enough to be permanently
stirred by the tragedy he has earned, yet coarse enough to fall back into
a merely sensuous life of meaningless pleasures. But at his side sits
that exquisite monitor--his wife. The stream of their lives must flow on.
And one asks how and whither? To apply such almost inevitable questions
to Hauptmann's characters is to be struck at once by the exactness and
largeness of his vision of men. Few other dramatists impress one with an
equal sense of life's fullness and continuity,

"The flowing, flowing, flowing of the world."

The last play in this volume, _The Rats_, appeared in 1911, thirteen
years after _Drayman Henschel_, nine years after _Rose Bernd_. A first
reading of the book is apt to provoke disappointment and confusion. Upon
a closer view, however, the play is seen to be both powerful in itself
and important as a document in criticism and _Kulturgeschichte_. It
stands alone among Hauptmann's works in its inclusion of two separate
actions or plots--the tragedy of Mrs. John and the comedy of the
Hassenreuter group. Nor can the actions be said to be firmly interwoven:
they appear, at first sight, merely juxtaposed. Hauptmann would
undoubtedly assert that, in modern society, the various social classes
live in just such juxtaposition and have contacts of just the kind here
chronicled. His real purpose in combining the two fables is more
significant. Following the great example, though not the precise method,
of Moliere, who produced _La Critique de l'Ecole des Femmes_ on the
boards of his theater five months after the hostile reception of _L'Ecole
des Femmes_, Hauptmann gives us a naturalistic tragedy and, at the same
time, its criticism and defense. His tenacity to the ideals of his youth
is impressively illustrated here. In his own work he has created a new
idealism. But let it not be thought that his understanding of tragedy and
his sense of human values have changed. The charwoman may, in very truth,
be a Muse of tragedy, all grief is of an equal sacredness, and even the
incomparable Hassenreuter--wind-bag, chauvinist and consistent
_Goetheaner_--is forced by the essential soundness of his heart to blurt
out an admission of the basic principle of naturalistic dramaturgy.

The group of characters in _The Rats_ is unusually large and varied. The
phantastic note is somewhat strained perhaps in Quaquaro and Mrs. Knobbe.
But the convincingness and earth-rooted humanity of the others is once
more beyond cavil or dispute. The Hassenreuter family, Alice Ruetterbusch,
the Spittas, Paul John and Bruno Mechelke, Mrs. Kielbacke and even the
policeman Schierke--all are superbly alive, vigorous and racy in speech
and action.

The language of the plays in this volume is again almost wholly
dialectic. The linguistic difficulties are especially great in _The Rats_
where the members of the Berlin populace speak an extraordinarily
degraded jargon. In the translation I have sought, so far as possible, to
differentiate the savour and quaintness of the Silesian dialect from the
coarseness of that of Berlin. But all such attempts must, from their very
nature, achieve only a partial success. The succeeding volumes of this
edition, presenting the plays written in normal literary German, will
offer a fairer if not more fascinating field of interpretation.

LUDWIG LEWISOHN.




DRAYMAN HENSCHEL




_LIST OF PERSONS_


DRAYMAN HENSCHEL.

MRS. HENSCHEL.

HANNE SCHAeL (_later MRS. HENSCHEL_).

BERTHA.

HORSE DEALER WALTHER.

SIEBENHAAR.

KARLCHEN.

WERMELSKIRCH.

MRS. WERMELSKIRCH.

FRANZISKA WERMELSKIRCH.

HAUFFE.

FRANZ.

GEORGE.

FABIG.

HILDEBRANT.

VETERINARIAN GRUNERT.

FIREMAN.

Time: Toward the end of the eighteen sixties.
Scene: The "Gray Swan" hotel in a Silesian watering place.




THE FIRST ACT


    _A room, furnished peasant fashion, in the basement of the "Grey
    Swan" hotel. Through two windows set high in the left wall, the
    gloomy light of a late winter afternoon sickers in. Under the windows
    there stands a bed of soft wood, varnished yellow, in which MRS.
    HENSCHEL is lying ill. She is about thirty-six years of age. Near the
    bed her little six-months-old daughter lies in her cradle. A second
    bed stands against the back wall which, like the other walls, is
    painted blue with a dark, plain border near the ceiling. In front,
    toward the right, stands a great tile-oven surrounded by a bench. A
    plentiful supply of small split kindling wood is piled up in the
    roomy bin. The wall to the right has a door leading to a smaller
    room. HANNE SCHAeL, a vigorous, young maid servant is very busy in the
    room. She has put her wooden pattens aside and walks about in her
    thick, blue stockings. She takes from the oven an iron pot in which
    food is cooking and puts it back again. Cooking spoons, a twirling
    stick and a strainer lie on the bench; also a large, thick
    earthenware jug with a thin, firmly corked neck. Beneath the bench
    stands the water pitcher. HANNE'S skirts are gathered up in a thick
    pad; her bodice is dark grey; her muscular arms are bare. Around the
    top of the oven is fastened a square wooden rod, on which long
    hunting stockings are hung up to dry, as well as swaddling clothes,
    leathern breeches and a pair of tall, water-tight boots. To the right
    of the oven stand a clothes press and a chest of drawers--old
    fashioned, gaily, Silesian pieces of furniture. Through the
    open door in the rear wall one looks out upon a dark, broad,
    underground corridor which ends in a glass door with manicoloured
    panes. Behind this door wooden steps lead upward. These stairs are
    always illuminated by a jet of gas so that the panes of the door
    shine brightly. It is in the middle of February; the weather without
    is stormy._

    _FRANZ, a young fellow in sober coachman's livery, ready to drive
    out, looks in._

FRANZ

Hanne!

HANNE

Eh?

FRANZ

Is the missis asleep?

HANNE

What d'you suppose? Don't make so much noise!

FRANZ

There's doors enough slammin' in this house. If that don't wake her up--!
I'm goin' to drive the carriage to Waldenburg.

HANNE

Who's goin'?

FRANZ

The madam. She's goin' to buy birthday presents.

HANNE

Whose birthday is it?

FRANZ

Little Karl's.

HANNE

Great goin's on--those. To hitch up the horses on account o' that fool of
a kid an' travel to Waldenburg in such weather!

FRANZ

Well, I has my fur coat!

HANNE

Those people don't know no more how to get rid o' their money! We got to
slave instead!

    _In the passage appears, slowly feeling his may, the veterinarian
    GRUNERT. He is a small man in a coat of black sheep's fur, cap and
    tall boots. He taps with the handle of his whip against the door post
    in order to call attention to his presence._

GRUNERT

Isn't Henschel at home yet?

HANNE

What's wanted of him?

GRUNERT

I've come to look at the gelding.

HANNE

So you're the doctor from Freiburg, eh? Henschel, he's not at home. He
went to Freiburg carryin' freight; seems to me you must ha' met him.

GRUNERT

In which stall do you keep the gelding?

HANNE

'Tis the chestnut horse with the white star on his face, I believe they
put him in the spare stall. [_To FRANZ._] You might go along an' show him
the way.

FRANZ

Just go straight across the yard,'s far as you can, under the big hall,
right into the coachman's room. Then you c'n ask Frederic; he'll tell
you!

    [_Exit GRUNERT._

HANNE

Well, go along with him.

FRANZ

Haven't you got a few pennies change for me?

HANNE

I s'pose you want me to sell my skin on your account?

FRANZ

[_Tickling her._] I'd buy it right off.

HANNE

Franz! Don't you--! D'you want the woman to wake up? You don't feel reel
well, do you, if you can't wring a few farthings out o' me! I'm fair
cleaned out. [_Rummaging for the money._] Here! [_She presses something
into his hand._] Now get out!

    [_The bell rings._

FRANZ

[_Frightened._] That's the master. Good-bye.

    [_He goes hastily._

MRS. HENSCHEL

[_Has waked up and says weakly._] Girl! Girl! Don't you hear nothin'?

HANNE

[_Roughly._] What d'you want?

MRS. HENSCHEL

I want you to listen when a body calls you!

HANNE

I hear all right! But if you don't talk louder I can't hear. I got only
just two ears.

MRS. HENSCHEL

Are you goin' to cut up rough again?

HANNE

[_Surly._] Ah, what do I--!

MRS. HENSCHEL

Is that right, eh? Is it right o' you to talk rough like that to a sick
woman?

HANNE

Who starts it, I'd like to know! You don't hardly wake up but what you
begin to torment me. Nothin's done right, no matter how you do it!

MRS. HENSCHEL

That's because you don't mind me!

HANNE

You better be doin' your work yourself. I slaves away all day an' half o'
the night! But if things is that way--I'd rather go about my business!

    [_She lets her skirts fall and runs out._

MRS. HENSCHEL

Girl! Girl!--Don't do that to me! What is it I said that was so bad? O
Lord, O Lord! What'll happen when the men folks comes home? They wants to
eat! No, girl... girl!

    [_She sinks back exhausted, moans softly, and begins to rock her
    baby's cradle by means of a cord which is within her reach._

    _Through the glass door in the rear KARLCHEN squeezes himself in with
    some difficulty. He carries a dish full of soup and moves carefully
    and timidly toward MRS. HENSCHEL'S bed. There he sets down the dish
    on a wooden chair._

MRS. HENSCHEL

Eh, Karlchen, is that you! Do tell me what you're bringin' me there?

KARLCHEN

Soup! Mother sends her regards and hopes you'll soon feel better and that
you'll like the soup, Mrs. Henschel.

MRS. HENSCHEL

Eh, little lad, you're the best of 'em all. Chicken soup! 'Tis not
possible. Well, tell your mother I thank her most kindly. D'you hear?
Don't go an' forget that! Now I'll tell you somethin', Karlchen! You c'n
do me a favour, will you? See that rag over there? Get on this bench,
will you, an' pull the pot out a bit. The girl's gone off an' she put it
too far in.

KARLCHEN

[_After he has found the rag mounts the bench cheerfully and looks into
the oven. He asks:_] The black pot or the blue one, Mrs. Henschel?

MRS. HENSCHEL

What's in the blue pot?

KARLCHEN

Sauerkraut.

MRS. HENSCHEL

[_Agitated._] Pull it out! That'll be boilin' to nothin'!--Eh, what a
girl, what a girl!

KARLCHEN

[_Has pulled the pot in question forward._] Is this right?

MRS. HENSCHEL

You c'n let it stand that way! Come here a bit now an' I'll give you a
piece o' whip cord. [_She takes the cord from the window-sill and gives
it to him._] An' how is your mother?

KARLCHEN

She's well. She's gone to Waldenburg to buy things for my birthday.

MRS. HENSCHEL

I'm not well, myself. I think I'm goin' to die!

KARLCHEN

Oh, no, Mrs. Henschel!

MRS. HENSCHEL

Yes, yes, you c'n believe me; I'm goin' to die. For all I care you can
say so to your mother.

KARLCHEN

I'm goin' to get a Bashly cap, Mrs. Henschel.

MRS. HENSCHEL

Yes, yes, you c'n believe me. Come over here a bit. Keep reel still an'
listen. D'you hear how it ticks? D'you hear how it ticks in the rotten
wood?

KARLCHEN

[_Whose wrist she holds in her fevered grasp._] I'm afraid, Mrs.
Henschel.

MRS. HENSCHEL

Oh, never mind. We all has to die! D'you hear how it ticks? Do you? What
is that? 'Tis the deathwatch that ticks. [_She falls back._] One... two
... one...--Oh, what a girl, what a girl!

    _KARLCHEN, released from her grasp, withdraws timidly toward the
    door. When his hand is on the knob of the glass door a sudden terror
    overtakes him. He tears the door open and slams it behind him with
    such force that the panes rattle. Immediately thereupon a vigorous
    cracking of whips is heard without. Hearing this noise MRS. HENSCHEL
    starts up violently._

MRS. HENSCHEL

That's father comin'!

HENSCHEL

[_Out in the hallway and yet unseen._] Doctor, what are we goin' to do
with the beast?

    [_He and the veterinarian are visible through the doorway._

GRUNERT

He won't let you come near him. We'll have to put the twitch on him, I
think.

HENSCHEL

[_He is a man of athletic build, about forty-five years old. He wears a
fur cap, a jacket of sheep's fur under which his blue carter's blouse is
visible,