FIRST COMM. (_feeling at last at his ease_). I should say, even _now_.
Why, there was a piece of statuary in the Italian Exhibition at Earl's
Court some years back that took _my_ fancy and took my _wife's_ fancy
very much. It was a representation in marble of a 'en and chickens, all
so natural, and with every individual feather on the birds done to such
a nicety----!
MR. MILB. I was hardly referring to the skill with which the Italians
carve--ah--_poultry_.
MR. L.-B. Ridic'lous! Great mishtake to talk without unnershtanding
shubject. (_The FIRST COMMERCIAL retires from the room in disorder._)
One thing I should like to ashk is thish. Why are sculptors at present
day so inferior to the antique? Ishn't the human form divine ash noble
and ash shymmetrical ash formerly? Why can't they _reproduce_ it then?
MR. MILB. You must first find your sculptor. Providence doesn't see fit
to create a Michael Angelo or a Praxiteles every five minutes, any more
than a Shakspeare.
MR. L.-B. (_wavering between piety and epigram_). Thank the Lord for
_that_! Now there'sh Florensh. Shome of us who have had the _run_
there--well, there you see all the original thingsh--all the
_originalsh_. And yet, if you'll believe me (_dreamily_), with all my
love and charm for Art, gimme the Capitoline Venush living and breathing
in _flesh and blood_, Sir, not in cold lifelesh marble!
MR. MILB. That of course is a matter of taste. But we are talking about
Art, not women.
MR. L.-B. (_profoundly_). Unforsh'nately, women are the _shubjects_ of
Art. You've got to find out your client's shtyle of Art firsht, and then
carry it out in the besht possible manner.
MR. MILB. (_rising, and knocking his pipe out_). Have I? But I'm going
to bed now, so you'll excuse me.
MR. L.-B. (_detaining him_). But look here again. Take the Louvre. (_As
MR. MILBOARD disclaims any desire to take it._) Now, nobody talksh about
the Gallery _there_, and yet, if you only egshemp the thingsh that are
rude and vulgar, and go quietly roun'----
SECOND COMMERCIAL (_who sees a Socratic opening at last_). Might I ask
you, Sir, to enumerate any pictures there, that, in your opinion, are
"rude and vulgar"?
[_MR. MILBOARD avails himself of this diversion to escape._
MR. L.-B. In the Grand Gallery of the Louvre there'sh an enormous amount
of shtuff, as everybody who'sh an artisht and a lover of Art knowsh. If
I had a friend who wash thinking of going to the Louvre (_here he looks
round vaguely for MR. MILBOARD_), I should shay to him, "Do you _care_
about pictursh at all? If you _don't_, don't borrer yourshelf 'bout it.
If you _do_, drop in shome day with Me, and I'll give you a hint what
to shee." (_As he cannot make out what has become of MR. MILBOARD, he
has to content himself with the SECOND COMMERCIAL._) If you were _my_
boy, I should shay to you----
SECOND COMM. (_at the door_). Pardon me for remarking that, if I was
your boy, I should probably prefer to take my own opinion. (_With
dignified independence._) I never follow other persons' taste in Art!
[_He goes out as the Smoke-room Page enters._
MR. L.-B. (_hazily with half-closed eyes_). If you wash _my_ boy, I
should shay to you, very quietly, very sherioushly, and without
'tempting to dictate----(_Perceives that he is addressing the Page._)
Jus' bring me 'nother glash whiskey an' warrer.
[_He is left sitting._
[Illustration]