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?