HERMAN. Henrich, speak with more respect. You must know that you are now the lackey of a man of prominence.

HENRICH. Lackey! Then I don't advance nearly so much!

HERMAN. You shall advance in time. You may even be a reutendiener some day. Only keep still. Your duty for a few days is to act as lackey until I can get a servant.--He can wear my brown coat, my dear, till we get a livery.

GESKE. But I am afraid it will be much too long for him.

HERMAN. Of course it is too long, but a man must help himself as best he can when he's in a hurry.

HENRICH. Good Lord! It goes down to my heels. I shall look like a Jewish priest.

HERMAN. Listen, Henrich--

HENRICH. Yes, master.

HERMAN. You rascal! Don't address me by any such t.i.tle any more; from henceforth, when I call, you answer "Mr. Burgomaster!" and when any one comes to ask after me, you may say, "Burgomaster von Bremenfeld is at home."

HENRICH. Must I say that whether your Honor is at home or not?

HERMAN. What nonsense! When I am not at home, you must say, "Burgomaster von Bremenfeld is not at home;" and when I do not wish to be at home, you shall say, "The burgomaster is not giving audience to-day."--Listen, my dear, you must make some coffee immediately, so that you will have something to entertain the councillors' wives with when they come. For our reputation will from now on depend on having people say, "Burgomaster von Bremenfeld gives good counsel, and his wife good coffee." I am so much afraid, my dear, that you will make some mistake before you get accustomed to the position that you have attained.--Henrich, run get a tea-table and some cups, and tell the girl to run out and get fourpence' worth of coffee--one can always buy more later.--You make it a rule, my dear, not to talk much until you learn to carry on refined conversation. You must not be too humble, either, but stand upon your dignity, and strive in every way to get the old tinkering habits out of your head, and try to imagine that you have been a burgomaster's wife for years. In the morning a tea-table must be set for callers, and in the afternoon a coffee-table, and that can be used for cards. There is a game that they call Allumber; I would give a hundred thalers if you and our daughter, Miss Engelke, knew how to play it. You must pay close attention when you see other people play, so you can learn it. You must lie abed in the morning till nine or half past, for it's only common people who get up in the summer with the sun. But on Sunday you must get up a little earlier, as I expect to take physic on that day. You must get hold of a fine snuff-box, and let it lie on the table near you when you are playing cards. When any one drinks your health, you mustn't say "Thanks," but "Tres humble servitoor." And when you yawn, you mustn't hold your hand before your mouth, because that isn't done any more among the gentry. And lastly, when you are in company, you mustn't be too squeamish, but leave your propriety a little to one side.--Listen, I forgot something: you must also get a lap-dog and love it like your own daughter, for that's fashionable. Our neighbor Arianke has a pretty dog that she might lend you till we can get one for ourselves. You must give the dog a French name, which I shall think up when I have time. It must lie in your lap constantly, and you must kiss it at least half a dozen times, when there are callers.

GESKE. No, my dear husband, I can't possibly do that, for there's no telling what a dog has been lying in and getting itself all dirty--you might get a mouthful of filth or fleas.

HERMAN. Here, here, no nonsense! If you want to be a lady, you must act like a lady. Besides, a dog like that can supply you with conversation; when you have run short of topics, you can talk about the dog's qualities and accomplishments. Just do as I say, my dear; I understand high society better than you do. Take me as your model.

You shall find that not even the smallest of my old habits will remain. It won't happen to me as it did to a butcher, once, when he was made a councillor. Whenever he had written a page and wanted to turn over the leaf, he put his pen in his mouth, as he used to do with his butcher's knife. The rest of you go in now and get things ready. I want to talk awhile with Henrich alone.

[Exit Geske.]

SCENE 5

HERMAN. Listen, Henrich!

HENRICH. Mr. Burgomaster!

HERMAN. Don't you think people will envy me because of this preferment?

HENRICH. Well, what do you care about people who envy you, your Honor? If only I had been made a burgomaster like that, I should have sent my enviers to death and the devil.

HERMAN. The one thing I am a little anxious about is the matter of small ceremonies, for the world is governed by pedantry, and people notice trifles more than solid things. If only the first day were over, when I make my entry into the City Hall, I should be glad; for as far as substantial business is concerned, that is bread and b.u.t.ter to me. But I must arrange how I am to meet my colleagues for the first time and make sure that I do not run counter to any of the traditional ceremonies.

HENRICH. Oh, fiddlesticks, Mr. Burgomaster! No true man lets himself be bound by fixed ceremonies. I, for my part, should do nothing, if I were to make my entry, except give the gentlemen of the council my hand to kiss, and wear a fine scowl on my brow so that they might gather what my intentions were, and silently make them realize that a burgomaster was no goose and no dumpling.

HERMAN. But think, there must be an oration at the City Hall the first day that I am introduced. I can certainly make as good a speech as any one in town, and I should make bold to preach if it were to-morrow morning. But inasmuch as I have never been present at such a ceremony before, I really don't know what is the customary formula.

HENRICH. Oh, sir, no one but schoolmasters limit themselves by a formula. If I were burgomaster, I should be content with a brief and emphatic address, such as this: "It may seem a rather remarkable thing, wise and n.o.ble councillors, to see a miserable tinker suddenly turned into a burgomaster--"

HERMAN. Fie, that would be a shabby start.

HENRICH. No, that wouldn't be the start. I should begin my speech like this: "I thank you, wise and n.o.ble gentlemen, for the honor you have done a wretched tinker like me in making him burgomaster--"

HERMAN. You always bring in your confounded "tinker." It is not proper to talk like that at the City Hall, where I must act as if I had been born a burgomaster. If I were to make such a speech, I should only be scorned and mocked. No, no, Henrich, you would make a poor orator. He is a rogue who says I was ever a tinker. I have merely tinkered a little to pa.s.s the time away when I have been tired of studying.

HENRICH. He is a rogue who says I was ever a tinker's apprentice.

HERMAN. Then why do you want me to make such a speech?

HENRICH. Oh, have a little patience! Your Honor is too hasty. I should politely tell them at the start that if any one made fun of me for having been a tinker, he would get into trouble. And if I noticed the least expression of mockery on any one's face, I should say, "Wise and n.o.ble sirs, do you for a moment allow yourselves to imagine that you have made me burgomaster to ridicule me: And at that I should pound hard on the desk while I spoke, so that they might see from my introductory speech that I was not to be fooled with, and that they had made a burgomaster who was the man for the place. For if his Honor lets himself be imposed on at the start, the council will continue to look on him as a rascal."

HERMAN. You talk like a rascal, but still I shall manage to hit on the kind of speech I want to make. Let us go in.

[Exeunt.

ACT IV

SCENE I

(A Room in Herman's house. Henrich, alone. He has braid on both sleeves of his coat, which reaches to his heels, and is trimmed with white paper.)

HENRICH. I am a cur if I can see how the council hit on the idea of making my master burgomaster, because I can see no connection between a tinker and a high official like that, unless it is that just as a tinker throws plates and dishes into a mould and melts them up into new ones, so a good burgomaster can remould the republic, when it is declining, by making good laws. But the good men did not take into consideration the fact that my master is the worst tinker in Hamburg, and therefore, if they have by any chance chosen him on that basis, he will be the worst burgomaster, too, that we have ever had. The only useful thing about their choice is that it makes me a reutendiener, and that is a position for which I have both talent and inclination, for ever since I was a boy I have enjoyed seeing people arrested. It is a good place, too, for one who knows how to make something out of it. First of all I must appear to have a great deal of say with the burgomaster, and when people get that article of faith through their heads, Henrich will make at least a hundred or two hundred thalers a year, which I shall take not out of greed, but only to show that I understand my business as reutendiener. If any one wants to talk to the burgomaster, I say he is not at home. If they say they saw him at the window, I answer that it makes no difference, he is still not at home. People in Hamburg know at once what that answer means; they slip a thaler into Henrich's hand, and his Honor promptly comes home. If he has been ill, he recovers at once; if he has had visitors, they leave at once; if he has been lying down, he gets up at once. I run about with the lackeys of the gentry, now and then, and I know well enough what goes on in those houses. In the old days when folks were as stupid as horses and a.s.ses, such things were called stealing, but now they are known as "extras," "tips," or "uncla.s.sified income."

But look, here comes Anneke; she doesn't know yet about the transformation, for she still has her vulgar tinker-look and tinker-walk.

SCENE 2

[Enter Anneke.]

ANNEKE. Ha, ha, ha! He looks like a mummer. I believe that's an Adrienne that he's got on him.

HENRICH. Listen, you tinker's trash! have you never seen a livery or a lackey before? Faith, these common people are like animals, they stand and stare like cows, when they see a man in different clothes one day from what he wears another.

ANNEKE. No, a joke's one thing, and sober truth's another. Don't you know that I've learned to tell fortunes? An old woman came here to-day who reads people's hands. I gave her a bit of bread and she taught me the art of seeing in people's hands what is going to happen to them. If I may look at your hand, I can tell your fortune at once.

HENRICH. Yes, yes, Anneke! Henrich isn't as stupid as you think. I smell a rat already. You have got wind of the promotion that is promised me to-day.

ANNEKE. No, indeed, I know nothing about it.

HENRICH. See how straight she keeps her face. Indeed you have heard it, and that is why you know how to tell fortunes so well. No, Henrich has an old head on his shoulders, and he can't be led by the nose.

ANNEKE. I give you my oath that I haven't heard a word of what you are talking about.