Hilary's office. Fittings not very modern. He is a manufacturer of sawn woodwork.
And e'en our good friends in St. Georgestown Declare that they too are dissatisfied.
What? even they; it is deplorable. The self-same reasons too; 'tis plain to see With what regret and pain our friends announce That they can deal no more with Hilary.
Complaints of our unpunctuality And of the value of our goods compared With those produced by our competitors Reach us by post; and on my business trips Our clients meet me with the same old tale. The good name of this house is vanishing, By Hilary's forefathers handed down To us intact that we might heighten it. And men begin to think that Hilary Is swayed by dreamers and strange fantasies, And, thus obsessed, no longer can bestow The earnest care which he was wont to give To all the operations of the firm, Whose products were world-famous and unique. So many as were our admirers then So great is now the tale of those who blame.
It is notorious that Hilary Long since hath let himself be led astray By seekers after some strange spirit gifts. To such pursuits he ever was inclined; But formerly he kept them separate From business and its workaday routine.
It seems advisable to me to speak Alone with our employer for a while.
Anxiety it is that bids me seek An interview and earnest speech with thee.
Things happen constantly which bring to light A serious diminution in demand For what we manufacture; nor do we Produce as large an output as we should. There is besides an increase of complaints About the lower standard of our work, And other houses step in front of us. So too our well-known promptness hath declined As many clients truthfully attest. Ere long the best friends that remain to us No more will be content with Hilary.
Long have I been full well aware of this And yet indeed it leaves me unconcerned. But none the less I feel an urgent need To talk things over with thee; thou hast helped Not only as the servant of my house, But also as my dear and trusted friend. And so I shall speak plainly to thee now Of matters which I oft have hinted at. Whoever wills to bring the new things in Must be content to let the old things die. Henceforth the business will be carried on In different ways from those it knew before. Production, that but stays in straitest bounds And without care doth offer up its fruits Upon the market of our earthly life Regardless of the uses they may find, Doth seem so trivial and of little worth, Since I have come to know the noble form Work can assume when shaped by spirit-men. From this time forth Thomasius shall be Directing artist in the workshops here, Which I shall build for him close to our works. So will the product made by our machines Be moulded by his will in artist-forms And thus supply for daily human need The useful with the exquisite combined, Art and production shall become one whole And daily life by taste be beautified. So will I add to these dead forms of sense, For thus do I regard our output now, A soul, whereby they may be justified.