In "The Weavers," there is not a single word that gives a specific party the right to swear the poet to its flag. And there is not a single word that does not arise from the violence of situations and is not pronounced solely by the mouth of the poet. The poet disappears behind the work of art. And the only question that must be examined is whether this work is truly a work of art, a vision.

A drama is a poetic work that acts on the stage. This action has been achieved by "The Weavers" in front of the audience of the "German Theatre," to a greater extent than any other work of modern literature. A work of art is a work that encapsulates a world within a certain form. That a world is contained within "The Weavers" cannot be denied.

The only question is whether the form is artistic. We lack a center of gravity in this work and a hero within the center of gravity who bears all that Hauptmann distributes among so many other backs. Such a hero does not correspond to the style of the object.

Need and poverty do not exist unless they coexist among many together. And even revolt is inconceivable without the participation of many people who, unified in the center of an invisible thought, are pushed towards one and the same goal. Whether we recognize this thought in the "need" that afflicts the weavers, or more vaguely, characterize it as the voice of the people — this center of gravity exists: in the song of the weavers, which ignites and stirs, it finds its tangible expression.

The unknown poet of these verses is, if not the hero, certainly the hidden conspirator who triggers the flow of events and guides peaceful people to plunder and bloodshed through five acts.