+Culchard is rather too Clever.+
SCENE--_The Burg Terrace at Nuremberg._ PODBURY _on a bench, grappling
with the "Epitome of Spencer."_
PODB. (_reading aloud, with comments_). "For really to conceive the
infinite divisibility of matter is mentally to follow out the divisions
to infinity, and to do this would require infinite time." You're right
_there_, old cock, and, as I haven't got it to spare, I won't trouble
you!--um--um ... "opposite absurdities"--"subjective modifications" ...
"ultimate scientific ideas, then, are all representative of ideas that
cannot be comprehended." I could have told _him_ that. What bally rot
this Philosophy is--but I suppose I must peg away at it. Didn't she say
she was sorry I didn't go in more for cultivating my mind? (_He looks
up._) Jove, here she comes! and yes, there's that beggar Culchard with
her! I thought he'd--how the dickens did he manage to----? I see what
_he's_ after--thinks he'll cut me out--twice over--but he shan't this
time, if I can help it.
CULCH. (_to_ MISS HYPATIA PRENDERGAST). No, the Modern Spirit is too
earnestly intent upon solving the problems of existence to tolerate
humour in its literature. Humour has served a certain purpose in its
day, but that day is done, and I for one cannot pretend to regret its
decay.
MISS H. P. Nor I. In fact, the only humour I ever _really_ appreciated
is that of the ancient classics. There has been no true fun since
Aristophanes died. At least, _I_ think not.
PODB. (_catching the last sentence_). Oh, I say, come, Miss Prendergast.
Have you ever read _The Jumping Frog_?
MISS P. I was under the impression that _all_ frogs jumped. But I never
read--I--ah--_study_.
PODB. (_declining to be crushed_). Well, I call Mark Twain funny anyhow.
But _I'm_ going in for study now. I am--honour bright! I'm swotting up
Spencer--look! [_He exhibits the volume proudly._
[Illustration: PODBURY GRAPPLING WITH THE EPITOME OF SPENCER.]
MISS P. And are you not enchanted by the logical lucidity of that great
thinker?
PODB. Um--I should be more enchanted if I ever had the faintest notion
what the great thinker was driving at. Look here--here's a simple little
sentence for you! (_Reads._) "Let us therefore bear in mind the
following:--That of the whole incident force affecting an aggregate, the
effective force is that which remains after deducting the non-effective,
that the temporarily effective and the permanently effective vary
inversely, and that the molar and molecular changes wrought by the
permanently effective force also vary inversely." (_With pathos._) And
that's only in an _Epitome_, mind you!
MISS P. Really, Mr. Podbury, I see nothing particularly incomprehensible
in that.
CULCH. (_with his superior smile_). My dear Podbury, you can hardly
expect to master the Spencerian phraseology and habit of thought without
at least _some_ preliminary mental discipline!
PODB. (_nettled_). Oh--but _you_ find him plain-sailing enough, I
suppose?
CULCH. I have certainly not encountered any insuperable difficulties in
his works as _yet_.
PODB. Well, I'll just trouble you to explain _this_--wait a bit. (_Opens
volume again._) Ah, here we are--"And these illusive and primordial
cognitions, or pseud-ideas, are homogeneous entities which may be
differentiated objectively or subjectively, according as they are
presented as Noumenon or Phenomenon. Or, in other words, they are only
cognoscible as a colligation of incongruous coalescences." Now then--are
you going to tell me you can make head or tail of all that?
CULCH. (_perceiving that_ MISS P. _is awaiting his reply in manifest
suspense_). It's simple enough, my dear fellow, only I can't expect
_you_ to grasp it. It is merely a profound truth stated with masterly
precision.
PODB. Oh, is _that_ all, my dear fellow? (_He flings up his heels in an
ecstasy._) I _knew_ I'd have you! Why, I made that up myself as I went
along, and if _you_ understand it, it's a jolly sight more than _I_ do!
[_He roars with laughter._
MISS P. (_behind her handkerchief_). Mr. Culchard has evidently gone
through the--the "preliminary mental discipline."
CULCH. (_scarlet and sulky_). Of course, if Mr. Podbury descends to
childishness of that sort, I can't pretend to----
PODB. (_wiping his eyes_). But you _did_ pretend, old chap. You said it
was "profound truth" and "masterly precision"! I've got more profound
truth where _that_ came from. I say, I shall set up as an intellectual
Johnny after this, and get you to write an Epitome of me. I think I
pulled your leg _that_ time, eh?
CULCH. (_biting his lip_). When you have extracted sufficient
entertainment from that very small joke, you will perhaps allow Miss
Prendergast to sit down and begin her sketch. You may not be aware that
you've taken her place.
[_He withdraws majestically to the parapet, while_ PODBURY _makes
way for_ MISS P. _with apologies._
PODB. (_as he leans over seat while she sketches_). I wish your brother
Bob had been here--he would have enjoyed that!
MISS P. It was really too bad of you, though. Poor Mr. Culchard!
PODB. He shouldn't try to make me out a bigger duffer than I am, then.
But I say, you don't _really_ think it was too bad? Ah, you're
_laughing_--you don't!
MISS P. Never mind what I really think. But you have got us both into
sad disgrace. Mr. Culchard is dreadfully annoyed with us--look at his
_shoulders_!
CULCH. (_leaning over parapet with his back to them_). That _ass_
Podbury! To think of his taking me in with an idiotic trick like that!
And before Her too! And when I had made it all right about the other
evening, and was producing an excellent impression on the way up here. I
wish I could hear what they are whispering about--more silly jokes at my
expense, no doubt. Bah! as if it affected _me_!
PODB. (_to_ MISS P.). I say, how awfully well you draw!
MISS P. There you betray your ignorance in Art matters. Sketching with
me is a pastime, not a serious pursuit. (_They go on conversing in a
lower tone._) No, _please_, Mr. Podbury. I'm quite sure he would
never----
PODB. (_rises; comes up to_ CULCHARD, _and touches his shoulder_). I
say, old chappie----
CULCH. (_jerking away with temper_). Now, look here, Podbury. I'm not in
the mood for any more of your foolery----
PODB. (_humbly_). All right, old boy. I wouldn't bother you, only Miss
Prendergast wants a figure for her foreground, and I said I'd ask you if
you'd keep just as you are for a few minutes. Do you mind?
CULCH. (_to himself_). Afraid she's gone too far--thinks she'll smooth
me down! Upon my word, it would serve her right to--but no, I won't be
petty. (_Aloud._) Pray tell Miss Prendergast that I have no immediate
intention of altering my position.
PODB. Thanks awfully, old chap. I knew you'd oblige.
CULCH. (_incisively_). I am obliging Miss Prendergast, and her only.
(_Raising his voice, without turning his head._) Would you prefer me to
_face_ you, Miss Prendergast?
MISS P. (_in tremulous tones_). N--no, thank you. It--it's so much more
n--natural, don't you know, for you to be l--looking at the view.
CULCH. As you please. (_To himself._) Can't meet my eye. Good! I shall
go on treating her distantly for a little. I wonder if I look
indifferent enough from behind? Shall I cross one foot? Better not--she
may have begun sketching me. If she imagines I'm susceptible to feminine
flattery of this palpable kind, she'll----how her voice shook, though,
when she spoke. Poor girl, she's afraid she offended me by laughing--and
I _did_ think she had more sense than to--but I mustn't be too hard on
her. I'm afraid she's already beginning to think too much of--and with
my peculiar position with Miss Trotter--(Maud, that is)--not that
there's anything definite at present, still----(_Aloud._) Ahem, Miss
Prendergast--am I standing as you wish? (_To himself._) She doesn't
answer--too absorbed, and I can't hear that idiot--found he hasn't
scored so much after all, and gone off in a huff, I expect. So much the
better! What a time she is over this, and how quiet she keeps! I wish I
knew whether it was coquetry or--shall I turn round and see? No, I must
be perfectly indifferent. And she _did_ laugh at me. I distinctly saw
her. Still, if she's sorry, this would be an excellent opportunity
for--(_Aloud._) Miss Prendergast! (_No reply----louder._) May I take it
that you regret having been betrayed into momentary approbation of a
miserable piece of flippancy? If so, let me assure you--(_Turns
round--to discover that he is addressing two little flaxen haired girls
in speckled pinafores, who are regarding him open-mouthed._ MISS
PRENDERGAST _and_ PODBURY _have disappeared._) Podbury _again_! He must
have planned this--with _her_! It is too much. I have done--yes--done
with the pair of them! [_Strides off in bitter indignation._