The Chinese lantern

Students. [In chorus.]

[They dance.

Tee. [Rubbing his hands.] Ah, ha!

New. [Slapping his pockets.] Ha, ha!

The Rest. Hee-hee!

Mee. What you all laughing ’bout not’ing for?

Tee. We are all in a very good temper to-night, Mee-Mee. We’ve been paid!

Mee. Dat so?

Tee. Yes,—to the last sen! Isn’t that wonderful?

Mee. Velly nice, me t’ink.

Tee. And so, Mee-Mee [takes box from Lilong], here’s a little present for you which self-sacrificing Generosity has been long intending.

[Presents a box of sweets.

Mee. Oh, hon’ble Nicenesses, awfully to condescen’!

Hiti. They are sweets, Mee-Mee.

Nau. We hope they are good; but we haven’t tried them.

Mee. [Offering box.] Graciously to inspect Humbleness invite! [They help themselves in turn without scruple or limit.] Me hope dey quite good enough—to yo’ taste?

Tee. Very good indeed, Mee-Mee.... Thank you ... yes, as I was saying, we’ve been paid.

Lil. And so we have promised——

Pee. What do you think?——

New. Why, to take Yunglangtsi in the procession with us——

Han. As a walking advertisement.

Mee. He not going to walk all de way?

New. Oh, no!

Lil. We are going to have him carried in a chair of state—quite grand, like a mandarin.

Pee. And we shall go in front and behind. We are going to get the chair now.

Han. Have all the lanterns lighted for us, Mee-Mee, when we come back.

Mee. Say? How long will de procession last?

Tee. Till dawn, Mee-Mee; till dawn! Then the lanterns go out, and we all run home like cats.

Hiti. Like cats, Mee-Mee, holding on to each other’s tails: for some of us won’t be able to walk straight by then! Come, pussy cats....

Students. [In chorus.]

[They imitate a cat’s fight, and dance off, holding each other’s pig-tails. Meanwhile Yunglangtsi has entered, dull and ponderous. He squats disconsolately on a cushion and sits cross-legged, looking at Mee-Mee with a sort of sulky possessiveness.

Yung. Come to me here, Mee-Mee! Come and talk to me!

Mee. Ya-as! What sort of talky-talky Serenity like best?

Yung. Any silly chatter will do, so long as you talk.

Mee. Hon’ble Mr. Yunglangtsi not velly happy to-night?

Yung. I’m bored, Mee-Mee; I’m bored!

Mee. You been changin’ yo’ clo’s?

Yung. I was made to, Mee-Mee: mother made me ... so did my father.... I don’t belong to myself, Mee-Mee.... I’m a human sacrifice.

Mee. Dey look mos’ mos’ beautiful!... You jus’ like a big lantern all on fire!... When you go in de procession—all de little bat-moths and bobby-howlers fly up agen you—so!—and burn deyselves fo’ dey know where dey are! Hee, hee!

Yung. Do you think that funny, Mee-Mee?

Mee. Rader funny, don’t you t’ink?

Yung. You are very silly, Mee-Mee.

Mee. Ya-as, me velly silly—me know dat! Not evellybody so gleat wise person as Mr. Yunglangtsi. H’m? H’m?

Yung. You think I like you, Mee-Mee, don’t you?

Mee. Ya-as—a leetle.

Yung. Well, I don’t then. I dislike you. There’s no one I dislike more. Shall I tell you why?

Mee. If you please.

Yung. It’s because you’ve robbed me—yes, you, you shabby little interloper! I’m not the man I was once: you don’t know anything about me. Till you came here with that confounded horoscope of yours I was happy—I’d reason to be, then.... D’you know what I was? [She shakes her head.] A grocer! I suppose you don’t know what that means? Well, it means sitting in a great shop where people come to buy, and giving orders to everybody. And all round you there are barrels of oil, with taps that run, and casks of sugar, and tea by the ton; and bins of rice, and boxes of spice, and everything nice as nice can be! And a crushing-machine where things are ground, and the samples all have a different sound. And you plunge your arms in flour or meal; and if you can’t see what it is—you can feel!

Mee. Oh! how beautiful!

Yung. And soap, Mee-Mee! Oh, there’s a fortune to be made out of soap alone. There was a man once, Mee-Mee, who spent three years inventing the name of a soap.... And when he’d invented it he turned it into a syndicate and sold it. He sold it for twenty thousand yen.

Mee. De name?

Yung. Yes, the name. What the soap was didn’t matter so long as it had a good name. That’s real art, Mee-Mee: and that’s what being a grocer means.... That’s what I was once!

Mee. You? Oh, poo’ man, to lose all dat!

Yung. Yes, I’d got my full grocer’s certificate: I’d taken five years to earn it, and I was so proud of it! I used to wear it round my neck so that every one could see.... It had white letters on a red ground—and it said ... [he breaks down]. And all because of you and your Star, they’ve gone and taken it off me!... I tell you they’d given up trying to turn me into an artist: they’d found it was no good. And then you came, you, you, you superfluous little pig!—and now I’ve got to wait till your beastly Star comes round again—three years,—and then I’ve got to marry you and become a fool of a painter, when I might have been a grocer if you’d only stayed away!

Mee. Oh! me velly, velly solly! Me ’bominably not wanted, eh?

Yung. My father doesn’t understand me, Mee-Mee.... No one understands me.... You don’t understand me, either.

Mee. Me t’ink—yes! Have a sweet?

[Offers box.

Yung. Thank you, Mee-Mee.... I think you do understand me a little. [He begins chobbling.] When I was a grocer I used to have more sweets than I could eat: but now [chobbles] I never get enough!... I don’t hate you now as much as I did, Mee-Mee.... Have one?

Mee. Oh, t’ank, t’ank, no!... Shabby Humbleness never dare!

Yung. It won’t hurt you, Mee-Mee, it’s a very little one.

Mee. Oh, so graciously to condescen’! T’ank!

[She grovels and advances on all fours. Having received it she takes opportunity, while Yung-Rlangtsi is exploring the box for remains, to throw it away, and wipe her hand.

Yung. It’s very hard, Mee-Mee, when one has got a sorrow like mine, ever to forget it.

Mee. Ah! dat so true!

Yung. It spoils my appetite, Mee-Mee: it upsets my digestion ... sometimes it even prevents me from sleeping.... I haven’t slept ... I haven’t slept since.... You there, Mee-Mee?

Mee. Yes.

Yung. Come and fan me.

Crier. [Without in the distance.] Lights, lights, lights! People, people, people! Light your lanterns all!

Chorus. [In distance.]

Yung. Mee-Mee!

Mee. Ya-as ... please?... Say?...

Yung. You still there?

Mee. Ya-as.

Yung. ... Stop fanning me.

[He sleeps.

Crier. [Without, going by with rattle of wand on wall.] Lights, lights, lights! People, people, people! Light your lanterns all!

Tikipu enters from street.

Tiki. Mee-Mee! Has every one gone out?

Mee. Sh! not gone yet!

[Points.

Tiki. But they are all going? Mrs. Back-of-the-House too?

Mee. She say.

Tiki. Oh, look here, Mee-Mee! When they’ve gone, you come and clean up for me, and I’ll—well, I’ll show you—something I’m doing.

Enter from house Mr. and Mrs. Olangtsi.

Mrs. O. Oh, so you are back, are you? When is the chair coming?

[Tikipu looks out.

Tiki. Condescension, they are bringing it now.

Students. [Without.]

Mrs. O. Olangtsi, are you ready?

Olang. Yes, my dear, I’m ready. Where is my lantern, Mee-Mee?

Mrs. O. Is Yunglangtsi ready?

Mee. Yes, High-mighty, he leddy an’ waitin’ mos’ patient.

[Students heard without.

Mrs. O. Tell them to come in.

[Tikipu opens door wide; Students re-enter with chair and bearers. ‘Lights, lights, lights,’ etc.

Olang. [To Yunglangtsi.] Now, you fat feather-bed, wake up!

[Shakes him.

Mrs. O. Let him alone! He can go just as well asleep if he likes! There, put him in! Then you can start; we’ll follow presently.

Students. Oh!!!

[They lift the chair with a great effort.

Yung. Oh, mother, I’ve just had such a dream—such a dream! I dreamt I was a grocer again.... I dreamt that I....

[Exeunt Students bearing Yunglangtsi. ‘Lights, lights, lights,’ etc.

Olang. Ah, the low lout! Grocer indeed! How shall I ever make an artist of a thing like that?

Mrs. O. You won’t; so don’t worry yourself! That’s Heaven’s affair, not yours. As he’s got to wait, he may as well do it sleeping as waking. You can’t hurry a comet by treading on its tail, so you’d better leave it alone!... Mee-Mee, you go to bed at once.... Tikipu, take away those oil-cans!

[Exit Mee-Mee into house, Tikipu into pantry.

[To Olangtsi.] Now, then, we are going, you understand;—I shall go out that way, you go this. By the time you come back, I’ll manage to be in the house somewhere. If you want me, call me: only mind you don’t come too soon, or we shan’t catch him!...

Re-enter Tikipu.

Now then [to Tikipu], as soon as you’ve cleaned up here you go to bed too. Put out those lights—you only want one! Olangtsi, mind you lock the street-door! I’ll go out the other way and meet you. [To Tikipu.] Be quick, put out those lights!

[Exit.

Olang. Yes, put them all out! Don’t go burning my candles at both ends.

[Exit fussily.

Voices. [In distance.]

[Tikipu leaves the lights and goes to get out his painting.

Re-enter Mee-Mee.

Mee. Oh, Tiki, she gone! She took de key; and when she go out she lock de door!... We all alone, you and me!

Tiki. All right! There, run along, put out those lights for me! Be quick, you’ve got plenty to do.

[Music and loud drum-beating is heard.

Mee. Ah, say?

Tiki. Those are the bands going up to the Temple.... That’s where the procession starts. Hurry, Mee-Mee! You know you were told to go to bed.

Mee. Me?... Me stay to help you, Tiki.... [Looks over his shoulder.] Dat de seclet?

Tiki. Yes.

Mee. Oh, Tiki, you stealin’ de picture?

Tiki. Stealing it? No, silly! I’m only copying it,—just one little bit of it at a time.

Mee. Oh, Tiki, it de velly exact same t’ing!

Tiki. Hah! that’s all you can see! Ah, if only it were! [He begins mixing colours.] I’ve been thinking, Mee-Mee, of what you said to-day, about having to marry Yunglangtsi....

Mee. Yees?

Tiki. Marrying you is going to make him a great artist?

Mee. Dat what de Star say.

Tiki. Well, you know, Mee-Mee, you mayn’t like him—but it must be a fine thing to be the wife of a great artist.

Mee. [Doubtfully.] H’m.

Tiki. You’d be very proud of him.

Mee. H’m.

Tiki. You’d hear people say such fine things about him—about his pictures, I mean.

Mee. H’m.

Tiki. And then, you see, they’d say it all came from his marrying you.

Mee. Ugh! He never tell dem not’ing ’bout dat!... He keep dat to himself fo’ fear dat some wise man come an’ steal me; an’ den me teach him to paint better dan he can.

Tiki. Oh! so you think you could teach painting?

Mee. Oh, yes! dat quite easy t’ing—jus’ to paint!

[Makes an imaginary flourish of the brush.

Tiki. Ah! that shows how little you know. Now I daresay you think that is nothing but a piece of rice-paper, or silk, or linen, with paint spread over it?

Mee. Oh, yes! And all de poo’ man’s wasted time!—I know,—go on!

Tiki.

Mee.

Tiki.

[A pause.

Well, now I’ve told you, and how much of it do you understand, I wonder! There! Off you run to bed, like a good little girl. I’m going to be busy. Good-night.... Why aren’t you gone, Mee-Mee?

Mee. Mrs. High-Mighty tell you to go to bed,—you sit up still: why not Mee-Mee sit up too?

Tiki. Oh, well, I’ve got something to do.

Mee. Plaps you not de only person got something to do.... You not want me: plaps me want meself. [Music passes. Mee-Mee moves to it.] Oh, de music!... Say, s’all I sing to you?

Tiki. [Indifferently.] Oh,—yes—if you like.

Mee. H’m ... yes. You like me to tell you all about meself?

Tiki. [Absent-mindedly.] Yes, ... oh yes ... that ought to be ... quite ... amusing.

Mee. Music, stop all dat noise!... Dey stop.... Ah, now ... ah, now!

[She sings.

[Music breaks in.

Tiki. Oh! how can I tell, Mee-Mee! I haven’t got eyes in the back of my head. Can’t you see I’m busy?

Mee. Dat what all de wicked people say!—Dey say dey’m busy:—dey mean dey don’ care!... You don’ care.... Don’ t’ink Mee-Mee care,—neither.... Sure not!... [Goes and looks maliciously over his shoulder.] You got dat drawn—all wrong!

[Turns away.

Tiki. Where, Mee-Mee? Tell me!

Mee. [Laughing to herself.] Don’ know. She got no eyes in de back of her head!

Tiki. But show me, Mee-Mee, show me!

Mee. Ugh! [Relenting and turning to sweet flattery.] Ah! say, isn’ dat pletty—what?

Tiki. Pretty! Mee-Mee, don’t you ever dare to call anything that I paint pretty! It’s only quite silly things that are pretty:—coloured toys, and wax dolls, and paper kites, and fat babies, so long as they don’t cry,—and foolish little girls who sit and chatter, but know nothing about Art!... Oh! they are all as pretty as you like ... but they are all littler than the littlest thing I ever mean to do ... so there!

Mee. M’m? ... say dat?... Den you know not’ing, not’ing! You not never be big till you been little first—littler dan me—littler dan de littlest baby dat ever cly fo’ its mammy to come! Yes! ‘Foolish chattling little gels what don’ know not’ing ’bout Art’—dey’s bigger inside dan you know! Dey’s bigger pains—dey’s bigger hearts—dey’s bigger upside-down inside-out altogedder dan anyt’ing you know ’bout. So dere! What you bin done drawn dere have got no eyes in de back of its head,—dat’s what de matter wid dat! It’s too busy ’bout itself!... So’s Mee-Mee,—too busy.... Me goin’ now.... Goo’-night!

[Exit.

Tiki. She’s right! She’s right! That chattering little idiot is right!... Yes, it’s too busy! It’s all too flat, too tight! O Wiowani, if only I had you, here at my hand, to teach me what to do!

[Sighs.

[Procession passes, with lights, music, song—‘China’s burning, etc.,’ and the multitudinous babble of a festive crowd. The popping of fireworks is heard, sticks are rattled along the wall. Tikipu paints on, absorbed in his art. The crowd and its noises trickle away.

Tiki.

[He pauses bewildered.

[He goes and examines the picture.

[The shadow of Olangtsi passes without.

[Olangtsi slides open the door.

Enter Olangtsi.

[Olangtsi creeps forward and peers over Tikipu’s shoulder. At sight of the drawing he gives a start of astonishment and utters a cry of rage.

Olang. Oh!!!

[Tikipu jerks up his hands, drops his brush, and turns to find himself discovered; he attempts to conceal his drawing by reversing it upon his knees.
[Olangtsi takes Tikipu by the scruff and shakes him. Tikipu lets go the drawing.

Olang.

Tiki.

Olang.

Tiki.

Olang.

Tiki.

Olang.

Tiki.

Olang.

Tiki. [Doubtfully.]

Olang.

Tiki.

Olang.

Tiki.

Olang.

[He hangs certificate round Tikipu’s neck.

Tiki.