SCENE: A public square. To right, Courthouse arcade, above which there is a speakers' cage with places for Burgomaster and Councilmen; to left shoemaker's house, with shop window and sign; outside a bench and table, close to them a hen-coop and water-tub. In the centre of the square stands a pillory, with two neck-irons on chains, above it a bronze figure with a switch in its hand; to right centre, statue o f Burgomaster Hans Schulze, which leans toward a marble female statue crowned with a laurel wreath. Background: view of city.

[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.] Hell! 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. [Bumps 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 constitute 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 assemble 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!

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.]

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. Damned 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 Illustrious—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 God'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 titles 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!

RELATIVE. Happy the people who respect their great men! [Runs.]

[Enter populace. Relative is talking with the wagonmaker and the chiropodist.] [The Courthouse clock strikes nine; two trumpeters and a drummer come on and sound a call. When the music has ceased Pehr enters, and is joined by Street-Paver.]

PEHR. Good morning, master. How do you think this matter will go for me?

STREET-PAVER. Badly, very badly!

PEHR. Don't the people want improvements, then?

STREET-PAVER. There's no question as to that—it's a question of the great man's reputation, which you have attacked.

PEHR. Have I attacked him? [Rain has ceased.]

STREET-PAVER. You called him burgomaster, and that title has become a by-word in the town; you said that his paving stones were rough—in a word, you have expressed the common opinion of the man, therefore you are ruined.

PEHR. It's a very remarkable world that we live in!

STREET-PAVER. It's rather see-saw, and has its little eccentricities, but do not try to help it, sir, for then it will send you straight to tophet!

PEHR. The people are dissatisfied and when one wants to dig up the cause of their dissatisfaction, they throw stones at one! [A boy thrusts a leaflet into their hands, hurries along and distributes more among the populace.]

PEHR. [Glances at leaflet.] But this is outrageous! They have sketched us. Have I a nose like that?

STREET-PAVER. They have hit us off rather well—but surely I haven't such ears!

PEHR. I can't understand this—Yesterday the editor was for the cause and to-day he abuses me.

STREET-PAVER. Public opinion, you see! He said to me, also, that he approved of this movement, but that he stared not defy public opinion.

PEHR. A curious way of working for his cause! Who, then, is public opinion for him?

STREET-PAVER. First, the customers; then the burgomaster, money, and power.

PEHR. Then why did he caricature you?

STREET-PAVER. Because I entered into your proposition. As a matter of course, I did it because I could make money by it. Meantime, he is selling hundreds of these poems to-day—[Trumpets and drum sound; Burgomaster, Councilmen and Clerks come out into speakers' cage.]

BURGOMASTER. Well, my children, you must have heard that an impostor has come to town.

ONE OF THE PEOPLE. He's no impostor; he is a reformer.

BURGOMASTER. It comes to the same thing—but you must hold your tongue, my lad, you have no vote!

PEHR. Herr Burgomaster, I would beg that my proposition be presented in a proper manner before this honored popular assembly—

BURGOMASTER. Just listen to him! We know his proposition and it simply remains for us to express ourselves. Well and good, I consign it to the madhouse! It is the man's wish—think of it, my children! that all may be permitted to tread upon smooth pavements. So long as Our Lord creates different kinds of human beings, there must be different kinds of stones on our streets. Is there anybody who would add further remarks?

ONE OF THE PEOPLE. That isn't true! Our Lord does not create different kinds of human beings.

BURGOMASTER. Who gave you permission to shriek?

ONE OF THE PEOPLE. Since we have no voice in things, we may at least be allowed to shriek!

BURGOMASTER. Yes, shriek, and I'll put you in the lockup! There is no one, of course, who has something to add?

RELATIVE. Herr Burgomaster, as a man of honor, may I not be permitted to enter a protest against the scandalous attack that has been made?

PEHR. I challenge the relative!

BURGOMASTER. And I, on the other hand, attach more weight to the Relative's utterance since he is allied to a great man; that is always the community's best guarantee—

ROOSTER. [From hen-coop outside the shoemaker's.] Cockelicoo!

BURGOMASTER. What's that devilish racket?

ONE OF THE PEOPLE. That's one who is blessed with a voice!

ROOSTER. Cockelicoo!

ONE OF THE PEOPLE. Arrest him! [Laughter and groans.]

BURGOMASTER. Quiet, back there! Secondly: Said adventurer has spoken outrageously of the administration in that he has made defamatory speeches against the city's departed burgomaster. We would hear a few impartial citizens—Master Shoemaker, what, in your opinion, does he merit?

SHOEMAKER. I vote with the administration.

BURGOMASTER. Quite right; he should be held in contempt. What say you, Master Chiropodist?

CHIROPODIST. I concur.

BURGOMASTER. And the wagonmaker?

WAGONMAKER. I have the honor to agree with the last speaker.

ONE OF THE PEOPLE. Those who have the right to speak are silent.

BURGOMASTER. Silence, back there! On the ground of what has already been advanced, with the support of conclusive evidence, the adventurer named Pehr [no family name] is hereby sentenced for vicious utterances against the administration to stand in the pillory two hours, later to be expelled from the city, to his everlasting disgrace and as a warning to others.

PEHR. Herr Burgomaster, the proofs are lacking.

BURGOMASTER. We require none. Axiom, or self-evident points, neither can nor need be proved. Away with him! [Pehr is led off.]

BURGOMASTER. Thirdly: In consideration of the vexatious as well as unforeseen incident that the city's dogs give unseemly expression to their inward feelings for the hideous around the pedestal of Hans Schulze's statue, an appropriation is demanded for an iron railing around the same. Surely no one will refuse a deserving man such trifling act of respect?

QUALIFIED VOTERS. No!

ONE OF THE PEOPLE. That is the first time we've heard the voters say no!

BURGOMASTER. Officer, put him in the lockup! The question has been answered, then, in the affirmative.

QUALIFIED VOTERS. Yes.

ONE OF THE PEOPLE. [Makes noise like a sheep.] B-a-a-a! [An instant of laughter and commotion.]

BURGOMASTER. The Common Council is adjourned. [Trumpets and drum sound, after which silence on stage.]

RELATIVE. [To Shoemaker.] He's an uncommonly firm expeditor, that burgomaster.

SHOEMAKER. He ought to be in the Legislature—then it would go a little faster with the common motions.

[Burgomaster, Councilmen and Secretary go into Courthouse. People continue to circulate on square; Street-paver keeps aloof.]

SHOEMAKER. [To Chiropodist, Wagonmaker and Relative.] Gentlemen, won't you sit down and drink a glass of ale with me?

CHIROPODIST, WAGONMAKER, RELATIVE. Thank you!

SHOEMAKER. [At door, gives order; Hans brings on ale.] Well, Herr Relative, you did not choose to be present this morning at the memorial fest for your illustrious kinsman?

RELATIVE. Where was the need of my going out in the rain? You were there with the Society.

SHOEMAKER. The whole Society! There were three of us.

RELATIVE. Did you sing?

CHIROPODIST. Yes, a little.

RELATIVE. [Laughing.] Were there many people?

WAGONMAKER. Not a soul!

RELATIVE. And the burgomaster—

SHOEMAKER. Overslept himself.

RELATIVE. [Laughing.] Have you seen the Morning Crow?

ALL. No.

RELATIVE. [Takes up a pamphlet.] Would you like to hear, then—"Tribute. The customary tribute paid by the Schulze Society to the memory of our worthy citizen, whom we commemorate in bronze on the city's public square, took place this morning in presence of a great crowd of people that greeted the memorial songs, sung in honor of the illustrious departed, with hearty applause. The songs were rendered by the great chorus with the usual precision and good ensemble. The oration, which had been prepared with the utmost care, was delivered in clear, resonant tones by the worthy shoemaker, Pumpen-Block. Among the notables present we observed the city's burgomaster, the kinsman of the departed, and others." [All laugh.]

RELATIVE. Isn't that rich?

ALL. Oh, it's priceless!—You wrote that.

RELATIVE. By the by, have you seen the cartoon of the reformer and the street-paver? It's capital!

SHOEMAKER. But it was a bit extravagant to caricature them in that way!

RELATIVE. Oh, no sensible person has anything against the proposition; but that it should fall into such hands—Hush, here he comes!

[Pehr is led on by guards, who place him in the pillory and adjust neck-irons. The populace nudge each other and point at him. Shoemaker's company slightly embarrassed. Enter a lyre player and an old blind woman, with a painted canvas on a pole. Old woman sings and points at canvas, which is painted in six panels—one for each stanza.]

[Shoemaker's company make wry faces and pretend not to be listening; the people are interested and drop pennies into the old woman's bank. The women are moved to tears and wipe their eyes now and then.]

RELATIVE. [To shoemaker.] Have you many orders now-a-days?

SHOEMAKER. Oh, so-so—

OLD WOMAN. Give the old blind woman a coin?

CHIROPODIST. Begging is prohibited, don't you know that?

ONE OF THE PEOPLE. She's not begging; she asks remuneration.

SHOEMAKER. What kind of rot is he talking?

ONE OF THE PEOPLE. The Schulze Society is paid to sing for the statue yonder, but the men pocket the coins and stay away. This morning only three were there.

SHOEMAKER. [To his guests.] Think, they know all that goes on, the villains!

OLD WOMAN. Give the blind old woman a coin!

RELATIVE. One must pay, to boot, for her croaking?

ONE OF THE PEOPLE. She sings better than the shoemaker sang this morning, when we stood round the corner listening to him. He certainly does not sing ideally about carnations and roses, but a true word spoken at the right moment is also ideal!

RELATIVE. If you don't go, old hag, you'll be locked up!

[Thunder and lightning, wind, rain, commotion.]

SHOEMAKER. Egad! it's raining again. Step inside, gentlemen. [They break up.]

OLD WOMAN. Must that poor wretch in the pillory stand out in the rain?

RELATIVE. If my kinsman, who is so great a personage, can stand outside, then that fellow may as well stay where he is.

SHOEMAKER. It cools these reformers off so nicely to get a little cold water over them. [Trips, stubs toe against a stone.] The damned cobble stones! [Hops into house on one leg. Exit all but Pehr and Old Woman—Lisa.]

LISA. [Throws off disguise.] Well, Pehr! You have become a famous man; your name is now on every one's lips, your picture is being carried round on all streets and public squares and the people hail you as a reformer. Are you satisfied?

PEHR. Yes, Lisa, now I am satisfied with being a reformer!

LISA. Shall you leave your work half-done?

PEHR. Yes, Lord save us! If only I can escape with my skin.

LISA. You sought glory and renown—

PEHR. But all do that!

LISA. Not all. But you had the approval of the people.

PEHR. The people! They have nothing to say.

LISA. So it was the approval of the great that you wanted. Then stand there and be ashamed! You did not even believe in the cause for which you stood.

PEHR. Frankly, I think it a matter of slight consequence whether one walks upon smooth or rough stones.

LISA. When one walks in calfskin boots—yes; but not when one goes barefooted!

PEHR. Moreover, the community isn't worth a straw; the whole thing is only a sham! The common good, the common good—one never talks of anything else. What, then, is the common good? It strikes me as being an agreement between a few private individuals.

LISA. It should be everyone's good, but it isn't. Make it so, and it will be so.

PEHR. I want to—oh, I want to do it, but I haven't the power!

LISA. Then get it, Pehr, and let's see if I have made a mistake.

PEHR. [Breaks irons and comes down stage.] You shall see, Lisa, that I will do something big when I have the power.

LISA. Why something big? Something good would be better.

PEHR. But you must always be by my side, Lisa. What was it that the bird in the wood sang?

LISA. That I will tell you next time.

PEHR. No, now!

LISA. He said: "I love you!"

PEHR. Won't you love me, Lisa?

LISA. Yes, when you love me.

PEHR. But I do!

LISA. No, you do not; so far you love only yourself. Out again, Pehr, and learn something! There are not many wishes left to you; the greatest but most dangerous one is ahead of you—Power! That is the highest thing a frail mortal can attain. But woe to him who misuses it! He is the world's greatest criminal, for he makes a caricature of Our Blessed Lord! Farewell, King! thy crown awaits thee! [Disappears.]

PEHR. Oh, my queen!