FullReads

In such straits, matters resolve themselves into a sort of drama with three characters. We will call our hero Smith.

Scene: a Study

Dramatis Personae:
SMITH
CONSCIENCE
MEPHISTOPHELES

Enter SMITH (down centre)

He seats himself at table and opens a Thucydides.

Enter CONSCIENCE through ceiling (R.), MEPHISTOPHELES through floor (L.).

CONSCIENCE (with a kindly smile): Precisely what I was about to remark, my dear lad. A little Thucydides would be a very good thing. Thucydides, as you doubtless know, was a very famous Athenian historian. Date?

SMITH: Er–um–let me see.

MEPH. (aside): Look in the Introduction and pretend you did it by accident.

SMITH (having done so): 431 B.C. circ.

CONSCIENCE wipes away a tear.

CONSCIENCE: Thucydides made himself a thorough master of the concisest of styles.

MEPH.: And in doing so became infernally obscure. Excuse shop.

SMITH (gloomily): Hum!

MEPH. (sneeringly): Ha!

Long pause.

CONSCIENCE (gently): Do you not think, my dear lad, that you had better begin? Time and tide, as you are aware, wait for no man. And–

SMITH: Yes?

CONSCIENCE: You have not, I fear, a very firm grasp of the subject. However, if you work hard till eleven–

SMITH (gloomily): Hum! Three hours!

MEPH. (cheerily): Exactly so. Three hours. A little more if anything. By the way, excuse me asking, but have you prepared the subject thoroughly during the term?

SMITH: My dear sir! Of course!

CONSCIENCE (reprovingly):???!!??!

SMITH: Well, perhaps, not quite so much as I might have done. Such a lot of things to do this term. Cricket, for instance.

MEPH.: Rather. Talking of cricket, you seemed to be shaping rather well last Saturday. I had just run up on business, and someone told me you made eighty not out. Get your century all right?

SMITH (brightening at the recollection): Just a bit–117 not out. I hit–but perhaps you’ve heard?

MEPH.: Not at all, not at all. Let’s hear all about it.

CONSCIENCE seeks to interpose, but is prevented by MEPH., who eggs SMITH on to talk cricket for over an hour.

CONSCIENCE (at last; in an acid voice): That is a history of the Peloponnesian War by Thucydides on the table in front of you. I thought I would mention it, in case you had forgotten.

SMITH: Great Scott, yes! Here, I say, I must start.

CONSCIENCE: Hear! Hear!

MEPH. (insinuatingly): One moment. Did you say you had prepared this book during the term? Afraid I’m a little hard of hearing. Eh, what?

SMITH: Well–er–no, I have not. Have you ever played billiards with a walking-stick and five balls?

MEPH.: Quite so, quite so. I quite understand. Don’t you distress yourself, old chap. You obviously can’t get through a whole book of Thucydides in under two hours, can you?

CONSCIENCE (severely): He might, by attentive application to study, master a considerable portion of the historian’s chef d’oeuvre in that time.

MEPH.: Yes, and find that not one of the passages he had prepared was set in the paper.

CONSCIENCE: At the least, he would, if he were to pursue the course which I have indicated, greatly benefit his mind.

MEPH. gives a short, derisive laugh. Long pause.

MEPH. (looking towards bookshelf): Hullo, you’ve got a decent lot of books, pommy word you have. Rodney Stone, Vice Versa, Many Cargoes. Ripping. Ever read Many Cargoes?

CONSCIENCE (glancing at his watch): I am sorry, but I must really go now. I will see you some other day.

Exit sorrowfully.

MEPH.: Well, thank goodness he’s gone. Never saw such a fearful old bore in my life. Can’t think why you let him hang on to you so. We may as well make a night of it now, eh? No use your trying to work at this time of night.

SMITH: Not a bit.

MEPH.: Did you say you’d not read Many Cargoes?

SMITH: Never. Only got it today. Good?

MEPH.: Simply ripping. All short stories. Make you yell.

SMITH (with a last effort): But don’t you think–

MEPH.: Oh no. Besides, you can easily get up early tomorrow for the Thucydides.

SMITH: Of course I can. Never thought of that. Heave us Many Cargoes. Thanks.

Begins to read. MEPH. grins fiendishly, and vanishes through floor enveloped in red flame. Sobbing heard from the direction of the ceiling.

Scene closes.

Next morning, of course, he will oversleep himself, and his Thucydides paper will be of such a calibre that that eminent historian will writhe in his grave.