[Pillory and Statue.]

PILLORY. [Bows low to statue.] Good morning, Statue. Did you sleep well last night?

STATUE. [Nods.] Good morning, Pillory. Did you sleep well yourself?

PILLORY. To be sure I did--and dreamed also! Can you guess what I dreamed?

STATUE. [Crustily.] How should that be possible?

PILLORY. Well, I dreamt--can you imagine it?--that a reformer came to the city.

STATUE. What--a reformer? [Stamps.] h.e.l.l! how cold your feet get standing here; but what does one not do for glory's sake! A reformer?

Then he, too, is to have a statue?

PILLORY. A statue--well, hardly! No, he had to play statue himself, at my feet, while I clasped him around the neck with both arms. [Neck-irons clash.] You see, he was a real reformer, and not a charlatan, such as you were in life!

STATUE. Oh, bosh! You should be put to shame!

PILLORY. I should--but I always have justice on my side. [Swings switch.]

STATUE. What, then, was his specialty?

PILLORY. He was a reformer in street paving.

STATUE. In street paving? Pestilence and cowardice! He dabbles, then, in my profession. [b.u.mps into female statue.]

PILLORY. No; he does intelligently what you dabbled in, and you wouldn't be standing where you are had you not been the burgomaster's father-in-law!

STATUE. Was not I the one who carried out the new idea of stone-paved streets?

PILLORY. Yes, that you did; but the idea was not new. And what did you do? In place of the soft sand in which one formerly placed one's feet, one must now balance oneself on jagged and rolly stones, which destroy both feet and shoes--save on the street which leads from your house to the tavern, where you let lay a footbridge of flat stones.

STATUE. And now this reformer--or charlatan--wants to undo what I did?

PILLORY. He wants to tear up what you laid down and pave all the streets with "burgomaster" stones, so that all may be equally comfortable.

STATUE. So he's a rabid radical!

PILLORY. Yes, that's it, and he has no party politics back of him. You had the wagonmaker, the shoemaker, the chiropodist and the burgomaster with you, therefore you succeeded.

STATUE. He'd better be careful! Every stone which he removes from my work the people will hurl at him, and woe be unto him if he touches my memory!

PILLORY. Let us hope that he unmasks you, you old fraud! Do you recall how you happened to become one of the great ones after your death?

First, at the funeral, the parson embroidered your virtues--for twenty marks; the contractor, who had grown rich on your streets, delivered a eulogy; the chiropodist, who acquired practice through your beautiful street stones, had a medallion struck of you; then the wagonmaker, who made money patching up wagons, named a vehicle after you; and last, the shoemaker held a memorial fest in your honor. Then it was done! Your son-in-law, the burgomaster, sent out a subscription blank for a statue no one dared refuse, and now you stand there.

STATUE. Yes, I do, and it grieves you. To-day the Schulze Society will come with wreaths and will sing the memorial song ordered by my son-in-law. I daresay having to stand and listen to it will make you writhe.

PILLORY. I can't dispute that, but in the end we shall see if I'm not a true dreamer!

STATUE. Hold your tongue! for here comes the Society.

PILLORY. I shall have to hold my sides for laughter--three persons const.i.tute the whole Society! Last year they were six. You're a back number, Schulze. Soon you'll see that they will move you into the ox-grove!

STATUE. A people who reverence their great men and cherish past events can never sink so low as to consign their statues to the ox-grove.

[Shoemaker comes out from his house and opens shop window.]

SHOEMAKER. I believe there has been rain in the night, brother Schulze looks so shiny. If it will only be fair weather when the singing society makes its appearance! [Shouts back into the house.] Hans!

HANS. [At window.] Yes, master.

SHOEMAKER. Sit here by the window with your work, I'm going out to fulfil a civic duty.

HANS. Yes, master.

SHOEMAKER. If you don't watch out, I'll let the strap do a dance on your back! Do you hear that, knave?

HANS. Yes, master.

[Enter Wagonmaker, with a banner.]

WAGONMAKER. 'Morning, Shoemaker.

SHOEMAKER. Good morning.

[Enter Chiropodist, with a laurel wreath.]

CHIROPODIST. Good morning, good morning. Shall we wait for the burgomaster? I think we'd better hurry along, it's preparing for more rain.

SHOEMAKER. That's just what I said to myself this morning, therefore I was wise and brought my raincoat.

WAGONMAKER. The people should now a.s.semble here and form a procession, but I don't see a cat! Shoemaker, didn't you tell the printer that we were to celebrate the Memorial Festival to-day?

SHOEMAKER. Why certainly, certainly!

WAGONMAKER. Will the gentlemen please form a semi-circle around the object's pedestal--so!

CHIROPODIST. We might begin with the cantata--then perhaps the people will come.

WAGONMAKER. I can't understand why the burgomaster isn't here? He always treated us to brandy other years.

SHOEMAKER. If you start the song he'll wake up, if he has overslept himself. Tune up, gentlemen--do, mi, sol, do!

WAGONMAKER. Then, I'll begin--but watch out for the trio so as to make it a regular ear-splitting ensemble!

[Solo Recitative.]

Hail to thee, Burgomaster!

Hail to thee, benefactor!

Life burns our deeds within its envious fire, But mem'ry, like a phoenix from the pyre, Rises on stalwart wing to waft them higher.