SHOEMAKER. Well whistled, Wagonmaker! Any signs of the grog yet?

WAGONMAKER. Go on, Shoemaker! Now comes the aria; it must be rendered with feeling. Then you shall see that the burgomaster will wake up!

SHOEMAKER. [Sings aria.]

ARIA.

The breath of the rose and carnation-bud's fragrance, 'mongst wonder-flowers' fated!

As false at heart As glitter-wave, She held toward him her billowy hair, Where all the ocean's freshness breathes.

And lily so red and lily so white Confidingly muse on death and life.

CHIROPODIST. That was a rare strophe! But it doesn't seem to have any special bearing upon the subject and our present conditions. Where did you get it?

SHOEMAKER. Well, you see, I have an apprentice at home who is one of your idealists; he does things of this sort when he's free, on Sundays.

WAGONMAKER. If I may venture an opinion, I think it inconceivably difficult to get at the pith of the strophe.

SHOEMAKER. That's just the fine point, you see! But hush--methinks we have the rain here. [Puts on coat.]

WAGONMAKER. Do the gentlemen think it worth while to stand here in the rain and get soaked on that old duffer's account?

SHOEMAKER. But we are paid to support the song and we must at least do the trio before we go; for when we all pitch in together the object itself won't be able to sleep! The oration, on the other hand, can be given at any time; besides, there is too small a public for so big a speech. We'll take the trio--do, mi, sol, do. It is not as ideal as the aria, but it evinces greater familiarity with the specific conditions.

[Rain patters, wind increases.]

CHIROPODIST. d.a.m.ned if I stand here any longer and catch cold for that old charlatan! Remuneration? Six marks each! One can do without that.

WAGONMAKER. I think so, too.

SHOEMAKER. Were you not in on the subscription for the statue, perhaps?

Were you not there and helped, with a medallion, to turn him into a great man?

WAGONMAKER. Well, we had to, didn't we? otherwise they would have downed us.

SHOEMAKER. True--but it is ungrateful not to respect his memory. I shall sing the trio alone.

CHIROPODIST. Oh, you can do it--you, with your sou'wester! I'm going home to breakfast. [Flings wreath on pedestal, dashes hood of cloak over head and runs off.]

WAGONMAKER. This is the last time I'm going to lend myself to such tomfoolery! Good-bye!

SHOEMAKER. [Alone.] And now I'm going to the burgomaster's for a brandy.

But first, I must deliver my speech to the old man on the pedestal; then my conscience will be easier. [Talks to statue.] You think, you old Schulze, it is for your sake that we sing, for your sake that we speechify; can't you comprehend that we do so for our own sakes? We need a big man to push forward when we turn out to be too little ourselves.

We need your word to quote, since no one credits ours. Our little town needed your statue in order to become a great city; your insignificant relatives needed your statue to help them get on and find occupation in this troublesome world--and therefore, mark you, you stand so high above us all--a figure for naught but ciphers! Now you have heard a true remark, you poor wretch! the first and the last you'll hear, perhaps--[Alarmed.] Surely no one has been listening to what I said? Ah!

here comes the great man's relative.

[Enter Relative.]

RELATIVE. Good morning, Shoemaker. Have you heard--have you heard of the scurrilous attack?

SHOEMAKER. What now? What's up, Herr Relative?

RELATIVE. A reformer has come to the city; haven't you read his broad-sheet?

SHOEMAKER. No, no!

RELATIVE. Oh, it is unprecedented--read for yourself!

SHOEMAKER. I'm too agitated to read; you read it.

RELATIVE. Then listen to what the scoundrel writes: "A quarter of a century has hardly elapsed since Burgomaster Schulze gladdened this community with weighty improvements as regards its street paving, by giving us in place of the old sand-ground rough cobble stones." Do you hear! Do you hear!

SHOEMAKER. Yes, I hear. But that was not very alarming.

RELATIVE. Not alarming! Doesn't he call him Burgomaster Schulze? One does not say burgomaster of a dead man--one says Our Ill.u.s.trious--Does not the wretch write about rough cobble stones? Does he not attempt with that to undermine _his_ worth?

SHOEMAKER. But one cannot call it an attack, if he says that cobble stones are rough when they are rough.

RELATIVE. Of course they are rough, but one must not say that they are when a great man is responsible for them. Have a care, Master Shoemaker!

I see that you are a sceptic. Have a care--you know the consequences!

SHOEMAKER. For G.o.d's sake, I'm no sceptic! Haven't I been standing here chanting odes to brother Schulze?

RELATIVE. Brother! If you were a brother to him in life, please remember that all t.i.tles are annulled by death. Will you admit that this is an attack?

SHOEMAKER. Of course I will--Have I said anything to the contrary? Can you prove that I said anything to the contrary?

RELATIVE. No; but be careful! We hold Common Council here on the square at nine o'clock, when that reformer will speak for his cause. Do you know what he wants?

SHOEMAKER. No.

RELATIVE. Can you imagine it! He wants to repave all our streets with flagstones.

SHOEMAKER. But that's rather considerate of him.

RELATIVE. [Laughs ironically.] Considerate? Oh, very! How will it go, for example just to mention your calling--how will it go with the precious shoemaking trade when the people no longer wear out any shoes?

SHOEMAKER. What--what say you? Forgive me, my friend, but you are right.

However, I'm not thinking of my humble calling, but of all the poor innocent working men who will be robbed of their bread--and of their poor wives and children!

HANS. [At window, makes faces.] Poor unfortunate workingmen!

RELATIVE. You see, you see! [Pointing to statue.] He was the friend of the poor, and he was a man that knew what he did!

SHOEMAKER. You may depend upon it that both the wagonmaker and the chiropodist will share my opinion.

RELATIVE. Am I quite sure of that?

SHOEMAKER. In life and in death!