Mr Ma and Son

by Lao She

  ‘If she’s quite happy to run off with some fellow, there’s nothing we can do to make her come back,’ said Paul, an expression of fury on his face. ‘If only I’d known what she was like! Selfish she is, wilful, thoroughly shameless! If I’d known!’

  ‘You mustn’t hate her so . . . It does no good. It’s no use. It will break my heart if you hate her. Since her childhood, I have never for a single day neglected to instruct her in the Holy Bible. Never for a single day have I not watched her like a hawk – have I now? It’s me, not you, who should feel bitter. But that would be no help. Hating her will not solve anything. Anyway, it is our duty to reform her through the power of love. She may have run away, but we still wish her here, as long as she consents to abandon evil and return to the true path, as long as she heeds the teachings of Christ, as long as she promises never again to entertain such misguided notions.

  ‘I shall go and look for her, and, though I seek till the ends of the earth, I shall find her, and bring her back to us. I know that she cannot be happy now, so I shall find her, and restore her to her joyful self. I know that her happiness lies here with me, for it is my duty to ensure my daughter’s happiness, no matter how terribly she lets me down.’

  Mrs Ely reeled this all off in one breath, as if she’d made mental notes and was delivering a practised recitation. There was a certain dampness about her eyes, which seemed to be tears of a sort, but they were quite different from the tears of ordinary mortals.

  ‘Oh, no, she’s certain not to come back,’ said Paul viciously. ‘If she’d had any love for us, she would never have run off with that Washington fellow. You do what you think, Mother. I’m going to ask the bank for a transfer to India, or Egypt, or Japan. Anywhere will do. I couldn’t bear the sight of her again. If England ever goes to the dogs, it will be the fault of such selfish men and women! People who have no love for their family, no love for their country, nor any love for God!’ he bellowed, and stood up and marched out.

  The Great War in Europe had not only shaken the economic foundation of people’s lives, but had also shaken people’s ways of thinking. Many questioned the old ideas of morality and of the old concepts current in the world, and began to look at things in new ways. They sought in one go to throw off all the fetters of old powers and influences, and to create a new humanity that would live in peace, free from wars. Marriage, family, morals, religion and politics were all turned upside down by such new ways of thinking, and it looked almost as if they were about to be completely eradicated.

  Some of the more broad-minded and generous-spirited people let themselves drift with the new tide, and through it attained new and substantial freedoms. Others, more set and narrow in their ways, reacted against the tide, meeting it, resisting it with all their might, and seeking to cling to the broken fragments of old things that floated on the waves. These two crowds of people surged to and fro, neither comprehending the other, neither concerned for the other, both mutually suspicious and resentful of each other. Between father and son, brother and sister, irremediable tragedies were enacted. The English are conservative, but even the English were tossed within this raging tide.

  There was a difference of at least a hundred years between Catherine’s outlook and that of Paul. She was for peace and freedom, against marriage and religion, and wanted nothing of narrow patriotism, nor an aristocratic form of representative government. As for Paul, he was for both war and patriotism, and for the status quo in marriage and religion. In Catherine’s view, the recent war had been wholly evil, and everything that preceded it dreadful. In Paul’s view, the last war had been a glorious one, and everything prior to it golden. Her outlook was the result of study, while his opinions were constructed on the basis of his nature and instinct.

  She was a young person and so was he: two kinds of young people of the postwar period. Always with that smile of hers, she was questioning things, while he went around passing cut-and-dried judgements with his pipe in his mouth. She wanted to know and understand. He wanted conclusive results and effective action. She used her brain while he used his intuition. Neither of them understood the other, and he hated her, because he judged her on the basis of intuition, emotions and tradition.

  Without a worry, she went to live with Washington, because they loved one another. Why should they buy a wedding ring for her? What need was there to go to church and stroke the bible? Why should she have to take his surname? To all these questions Catherine gave a smile.

  Mary, much like Paul, would insist on a wedding ring, on going to church and on being called by her husband’s surname. Her behaviour was that of a wild kitten, but her outlook was that of a dead cow. She liked to display her pale legs for men to see, but revealed them only from the knee downwards, and if a breeze whisked her skirt up a little, she would hastily pull it down, looking awkward and silly. Through her movements, her manner, her hats and her clothes, she lived to make men look at her. Beauty was her ultimate weapon, and she wielded it with the goal of grabbing a man and building a cosy home. Beyond that, nothing more! Yes, her aim in life went no further than that.

  Mary didn’t relish the idea of having children. That, to be sure, was in accord with one of the aspects of the new thinking, but in her case it was simply a matter of her own convenience. Having children might ruin her looks, and children meant a lot of tiresome bother. She objected to having children – but she’d never have admitted to agreeing with any of the new ideas about birth control.

  Washington had compared Mary and Catherine, and decided to live with Catherine. He still loved Mary, and hadn’t forgotten her, but his relationship with Catherine seemed even to surpass love. This thing that transcended love was a new, postwar discovery, and no one yet knew what it was. It was something that couldn’t be pinned down by any definition – something tremendously free, exceptionally full of life. Mary could never comprehend it, nor would she be able to enjoy it, for her definition of ‘love’ confined itself to marriage, husband and wife, home. And this special something wasn’t restrained by the fetters of established conventionality.

  Catherine and Washington wouldn’t have felt ashamed to go hand in hand to see Mrs Ely, nor would they have been afraid of going to see Mary. What intimidated them was Mrs Ely’s and Mary’s lack of understanding. Neither he nor she was afraid of anyone, but they were rather reluctant to clash with the old ways of thinking; the matter was bigger than them. It was one of conflicting tides of world opinion: not a problem of individuals but an historical change. They were both at one with their consciences, but people’s consciences have different standards. That being the case, they knew the best thing they could do was just not show their faces, and avoid seeing Mrs Ely or Mary.

  ‘Poor Paul! He so much wants to get on! I know what he must be going through,’ muttered Mrs Ely to herself after Paul had gone.

  The Reverend Ely glanced at her, realising that the time had now come for him to speak. He gave a couple of coughs, then said slowly and deliberately, ‘Kay’s not a bad girl. Don’t think ill of her.’

  ‘You always stick up for her. If you hadn’t spoilt her, she would never have been capable of such scandalous deeds!’ Mrs Ely shut the old clergyman up with one blast from her cannon.

  The Reverend Ely felt decidedly resentful, but didn’t dare lose his temper.

  ‘I shall go and find her. With the words of Jesus Christ I shall persuade her to return!’ Mrs Ely forced a smile as benevolent as the devil’s grin.

  ‘It’s no good your going to look for her. She won’t come back,’ said the Reverend Ely quietly. ‘If the two of them are happy together, then she certainly won’t come back. And if they’re not happy, well, she’s quite capable of earning her own living without us. I wish she would come back, since I love her so dearly.’ The rims of his eyes moistened, and he continued. ‘But I wouldn’t force her to return. She has her own ideas and opinions. If she’s able to put them into practice, it will bring her satisfaction and contentment, and I’ve no wish to sna
tch such happiness away from her. The present matter rests entirely with Mary. If Mary takes it to court, it will be the end of us. If not, all will be well. It rests with her, and her alone. You needn’t go looking for Kay – I’ll go and see her, and hear what she’s got to say. Then I’ll go and beseech Mary to grant us mercy.’

  ‘Beseech? Mary? Beseech!’ said Mrs Ely, pointing her finger at his nose. She’d never used the word ‘beseech’ in reference to her dealings with anyone except God.

  ‘Yes, beseech her.’ The Reverend Ely had become very forceful, too, and his voice, although quiet, was firm.

  ‘Your daughter’s run off, and you’re going to beseech a little hussy like Mary! Think of your position, Reverend Ely!’

  ‘My position! You and Paul might have some position, but not me. All you want to bring Kay back for is to save yourself from disgrace, with no consideration for her happiness. At the same time, you’ve not given the slightest thought to Mary’s grief. I have nothing to lose. If Mary agrees to do as I ask, it will in effect be an act of self-sacrifice on her part, and she will be helping to fulfil Catherine’s happiness. If she refuses to help, it is quite within her rights, and she is free to do so. I cannot force her. Poor Mary!’

  Mrs Ely thought to grab something and throw it at her husband’s head, but, suddenly mindful of God, she refrained. Shooting him a malevolent glare, she stalked out with her head of kapok quivering.

  The Reverend Ely and Mrs Wedderburn sat face to face, while Mary, holding Napoleon, sat in front of the piano. In the light the Reverend Ely’s face was deathly pale.

  ‘Mary, Mary,’ he said, ‘Catherine has done wrong, and Washington has too. They have both done you an injustice. But things have gone so far that if you now take action against him, you will ruin not only him, but me too. You have a strong case in the eyes of the law, and if you seek damages, you can be sure of getting them. What with the damages and the cost of the proceedings, you would certainly send him bankrupt. And at the same time, the publicity would mean utter ruin for me and my family. You have ample cause to sue, and all I can do is beseech you to show him a little lenience. Washington’s no young rogue, nor is Catherine a malicious girl. They’ve simply been unfair in their conduct towards you. If you can find it in you to show them mercy, they will owe their life’s happiness to your kindness.

  ‘If you refuse to forgive them, I wouldn’t for a moment call you too harsh, for you have every right. I’m merely begging you to show extraordinary compassion, and in so doing redeem my family and help the couple towards an unmarred happiness. In law they should be punished, but emotionally they may be forgiven. They have acted under the impulse of love. One can be sure that they didn’t intend to belittle you or hurt you, Mary.

  ‘Tell me, now: will you spare them or punish them? Tell me, Mary.’

  The girl’s teardrops fell onto Napoleon, and she made no reply.

  ‘I think the proper thing would be to decide matters in court, wouldn’t it, Reverend Ely?’ said Mrs Wedderburn, her lips trembling.

  The Reverend Ely said nothing, but clasped his forehead between his hands.

  ‘No, Mum!’ said Mary, rising very abruptly to her feet. ‘I hate him! I hate him! I . . . I love him. I’m not going to punish him. I couldn’t send him bankrupt. But you’ve got to make him come and tell me himself that it’s over. I can’t bear hearing things secondhand. Don’t you bother yourself about it, Mum. And you needn’t interfere either, Reverend Ely. I’ve got to see him – and I’ve got to see her too. Just to have a look at them . . . Ha ha! Ha!’ Mary broke into manic laughter.

  ‘Mary!’ Mrs Wedderburn, flustered and alarmed, went over and put her arm round her daughter.

  The Reverend Ely sat there dumbfounded.

  ‘Ha ha! Ha ha!’ Mary was still laughing hysterically, and her face was bright red. Then, after a few more laughs, she laid her head on the piano and began to cry.

  Napoleon ran to the Reverend Ely, cocked his head on one side and looked quizzically at him.

  II

  EVERYWHERE WAS green in Welwyn Garden City, and during summer the scent of flowers was in every street. There was only one big shop in town, and it sold everything. The whole place used electricity, the use of coal being forbidden so as to keep the air pure. Only a few of the streets were thoroughfares for traffic, which made everything tranquil day and night.

  The whole town was close to nature, but the maintenance of this closeness all depended on science. Electricity, the new forms of architecture and horticulture in the houses and gardens, and the layout of the streets – all were scientific. This use of science was a great improvement on nature. To make the new town so very natural, so very clean, so fine and beautiful, and so very hygienic, was something that could never have existed without scientific knowledge.

  Intellectually, science is a quest for absolute truth, and in its practical applications it can provide a certain amount of happiness for humankind. Those who misuse science don’t understand science, and attacking science because of the misuses to which it is put is likewise a misunderstanding of science. There are but two joys in human life: the quest for truth and the pleasures of the senses. Only science can cater for both.

  The two young men had taken a bus out to Barnet, and from there walked to the new town. They followed the railway line, with pretty scenery all the way. The green grass-covered land bobbed up and down, and the woods were sparse one moment and dense the next. Private houses lay scattered all over the place, some hiding behind trees, some standing in isolation along the roadside. In the small gardens of some were a few white hens, while in others there hung white shirts, and everything had a distinctly cosy, homely air about it.

  There were people out walking, both along the road and in the woods. Old ladies grasping umbrellas and wearing complicated hats were heading for church. Young boys and girls were strolling round side by side in the woods, and other youngsters rode off on bicycles into the more distant countryside. Middle-aged men in white jackets were taking their children into the grassy meadows to watch the cows, the pigs, the birds and so forth. Bands of children were playing football or tumbling around on the grass.

  Most of the working-class men had small clay pipes in their mouths, and, newspapers in hand, were standing at the doors of their houses reading. Sometimes they too would pop into the meadows for a chat and a joke with the sheep and cows.

  The English countryside’s very pretty. Everywhere’s green, and everything’s so natural and unaffected – not to mention peaceful.

  ‘Li, old fellow,’ said Ma Wei, ‘what’s your view of Miss Ely’s affair? I don’t suppose you agree with her?’

  Li Tzu-jung was absorbed in the contemplation of an evergreen tree covered in red berries, and he didn’t seem to have heard what Ma Wei had said.

  ‘Eh? What? Oh, Miss Ely? There’s nothing about her I’d find fault with. Very beautiful, those red berries on that tree, don’t you think?’

  Ma Wei casually glanced at them. ‘Oh yes, they are.’ Then he asked, ‘Don’t you consider her conduct strange?’

  ‘What’s strange about it?’ said Li Tzu-jung, smiling. ‘That sort of thing often happens. I certainly wouldn’t take the risk, though. With her, well, she’s so capable. And she’s got her wits about her, and knows what she’s doing. She wants to live with a man, so she goes and does it. She’s free to do it, and she can be a help to him. And if she decides she no longer wants to be with him, all they have to do is separate, and she can go her way and earn her own keep. You see, she writes pretty good English, can type and do shorthand, she’s good at organising things, and she’s not bad-looking, either. So what’s she got to be afraid of?

  ‘Anybody who tries living the new way has got to have something up here.’ Li Tzu-jung tapped his head knowingly. ‘They’d never survive without real skills; ranting wild slogans won’t get them anywhere. Let me tell you, old Ma, the one thing I admire about foreigners is their ability to earn money! Take that old bird, Mrs El
y. She earns three or four hundred a year. Look at Mary. Like a little cloth doll, but she’s got a gift for selling hats. Look at that rude old blunderbuss Alexander: he can write scenarios for a film company. And that fellow at the museum I met last week: a poet of sorts, and able to translate Chinese poems, so he makes money by doing it. I asked him, “Chinese poetry must be worthwhile, otherwise you wouldn’t translate it, would you?” Guess what he said? “Chinese things are very fashionable nowadays, and you can make some easy cash translating a bit of Chinese poetry.”

  ‘Yes, they’re real dab hands at making money, really terrific. And that’s the only reason that their fine arts, music and literature can flourish as they do, because if money’s in short supply you don’t have time for the sort of mental luxury that creates the arts. Just ask yourself how much that roomful of antiques of Lord Simon’s is worth! And he told me that when he dies, he’s going to leave the lot to the British Museum. Does any Chinese person leave a roomful of antiques to a museum? When you can’t even afford a doughnut, who’s going to buy antiques? What a joke!

  ‘It’s only when you’ve got plenty of money that you’re likely to start splashing it around. It’s only when you’ve got plenty of money that you can promote the arts and charities. Money’s not a bad thing if people use it for a noble cause. I hope I become a wealthy man, then I’ll fork out my millions and set up a library, run a good newspaper, start up a museum, an art gallery, a new theatre . . . and so many other things. Yes, so many things – so many worthwhile things!’

  Li Tzu-jung inhaled a breath of air. The air was wonderfully fragrant and sweet.