The Present and the Past

by Ivy Compton-Burnett

  ‘So now you know the whole, my boy.’

  ‘Father and Henry both “my boy”,’ said Toby.

  ‘Come, do what Father tells you,’ said Cassius.

  ‘How do you do?’ said Toby into space, making a movement of shaking hands.

  There was some mirth, and he appeared to search his memory.

  ‘Quite well. Thank you. Fine day,’ he said, and turned and looked at Catherine.

  ‘Lady,’ he said, in a tone of suggestion, and turned away.

  ‘Ought he not to do as he is told?’ said Cassius.

  ‘He ought to be what he is,’ said Catherine.

  ‘Ah, you missed those stages in your children, Catherine. That is what you are thinking of. I can read your mind like a book. It lies open before me. But they have wanted for nothing. You could have done no more for them.’

  ‘I could have had more from them.’

  ‘Well, well, that can’t be helped now. You must just forget it.’

  ‘Forget it?’ said Catherine, just audibly.

  ‘Now they are older, they have more need of you.’

  ‘I have need of them. I must be on my guard.’

  ‘Well, let them speak for themselves. Now, Fabian, would you rather have one mother or two?’

  ‘I would have chosen always to have my own. But as things are, I see I want them both.’

  ‘And you, Guy?’ said his father.

  ‘He wants the mother he has always had. And he will always have her,’ said Catherine.

  Guy suddenly rose and went to his stepmother and buried his face on her shoulder.

  ‘Well, it is natural, my boy,’ said Cassius. ‘And we honour you for having the feelings. And we honour you for being able to show them. It is a thing not given to us all. Well, Flavia, you do not come out of it with nothing.’

  Guy was so far from honouring himself that he could not lift his face.

  ‘What relation is she to us?’ said Henry, indicating Catherine.

  ‘No relation, my boy. She is the elder boys’ mother.’

  ‘Why isn’t she our stepmother, if our mother is theirs?’

  ‘Mater has never been a stepmother to them. She has been a real mother.’

  ‘But I mean in a legal sense.’

  ‘Oh, you do, do you?’ said Cassius, glancing at Catherine. ‘So — you have come to that.’

  ‘It is not the same,’ said Megan. ‘Their mother isn’t Father’s wife. He can only have one at a time.’

  ‘Ah, they are a pair, Catherine. They write poems and do I don’t know what. I don’t know what to make of them sometimes. I can hardly believe they are my children.’

  ‘You said that Megan didn’t write the poem,’ said Henry. ‘So it does seem strange that she is your child.’

  ‘Oh, it does, does it? That is what you would say. And what about you? Are you the natural child for me?’

  ‘I don’t think I am. We are too different.’

  ‘And where does all this difference lie?’

  ‘Well, you don’t know the truth about things, and I have always known.’

  ‘Well, give me an example of all this truth. You cannot have seen so much.’

  ‘I have seen some today, though it is supposed to be a day of happiness. Fabian’s mother is here, and it makes him see he has never had her. And Guy doesn’t know which mother is really his.’

  ‘Oh, come, two mothers are enough for anyone. I think they are fortunate boys.’

  ‘Yes, that is what you would think.’

  ‘You can see her feeling the truth,’ said Megan. ‘I mean Fabian’s mother.’

  ‘Well, upon my word. This is what a parent has to face. You are fortunate to have missed some of it, Catherine.’

  ‘No, I am not fortunate.’

  ‘Well, no, I suppose you are not. But there are two sides to every question. And I don’t think you will have this sort of thing with Guy. He doesn’t seem so full of it somehow.’

  ‘You always say he is backward,’ said Megan.

  ‘Well, I am sure I ought to be glad of it. It is a fault on the right side. If I ever found any fault with it, I retract what I said. Give me a natural child.’

  ‘You haven’t found out you like him as he is, until he has his mother, and it doesn’t matter,’ said Henry.

  ‘Why, the better things are, the worse you make them. There is no sense in such forcing of things. Your words mean nothing. Well, well, my little son, come to your father. If you must bear the troubles of the world, you want his help, and you shall have it. You have chosen a hard course. I wish you had not, for your own sake.’

  Toby ran up and waited to be included in the attentions.

  ‘Ah, you are a happy little soul. I cannot imagine two children more different. I declare it is odd to be the father of you both.’

  ‘How do you do?’ said Toby, offering his hand. ‘Quite well; so glad; very much.’

  ‘He watches us,’ said Mr Clare. ‘We should be on our guard. He will be bringing up what is forgotten.’

  ‘And he doesn’t always understand,’ said Megan. ‘So he often makes things seem different.’

  ‘I hope he will not prove the most difficult customer of all,’ said Cassius.

  ‘Very good boy,’ said Toby.

  ‘Is it true that the child is the father of the man?’ said Guy.

  ‘You must ask Mother that, or Mater,’ said his father. ‘It does not matter which. You are a happy boy to have the choice.’

  Catherine and Flavia met each other’s eyes, ready to speak but waiting for each other. Flavia seemed the more resolutely silent.

  ‘I think there is something in us, that remains in us and grows with us,’ said Catherine to her son. ‘That is what the words mean.’

  ‘So Mother knows,’ said Cassius. ‘There are two people who will always know, Mother and Mater.’

  ‘Mother,’ said Fabian, flushing as he spoke, ‘will you always come here to us, or shall we sometimes come to you?’

  ‘Well done, my boy!’ said Cassius. ‘You have taken the plunge. You have crossed the Rubicon. It will never be so hard again. It is a great thing to be able to surmount the obstacles in life. It will be easier for you in the end. Now, Guy, see if you can follow your brother’s example.’

  Guy looked up as if in question.

  ‘Say something to Mother and use that name. Then the step will be behind. And you will not be haunted by a sense of something to come, something that would get more difficult with every day.’

  ‘I can’t think of anything to say.’

  ‘Oh, come, you cannot expect me to believe that.’

  ‘I believe it,’ said Megan, ‘because it is the truth.’

  ‘Oh, dear, oh, dear!’ said Henry, looking from Guy to his father. ‘Trouble is made on purpose.’

  ‘You should prove your position, Cassius,’ said Flavia. ‘Say something yourself.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Well, I declare I can’t think of anything. I declare that I can’t. I should not have believed that words could dry up like that.’

  ‘You will now have a wider range of belief.’

  ‘Now you are an ill-natured little woman. Trying to make an exhibition of your husband. What I said to the boy was said in all innocence. There was no spite in it.’

  ‘Ask Mother if she has ever had the experience,’ said Flavia to Guy. ‘Say “Mother, do you find it difficult to think of something to say on the spur of the moment?” ‘

  Guy repeated the words in a quoting tone, and Catherine answered at once.

  ‘Yes, I think it is a common thing.’

  ‘Well, it seems you are indebted to me for the thing to say, after all,’ said Cassius, in his grim manner. ‘It was I who put it into your heads. You did not think of anything yourselves. A common thing! It seems to be.’

  ‘Did you ever love Fabian’s mother best in the world?’ said Henry.

  ‘Whom does Toby love best in the world?’ said Cassius, keeping
his eyes from one son and lifting the other. ‘Tell Father who it is.’

  ‘Mother,’ said Toby, in a reverent tone.

  ‘Do you not mean Mater?’

  ‘Oh, no.’

  ‘Why do you love her so much, the lady the boys call Mother?’

  ‘Toby calls her Mother too. Fabian and Guy and Toby. Poor Mother only come today.’

  ‘You really love Mater and Father the best.’

  ‘Oh, no, here today and yesterday.’

  ‘You little good-for-nothing! So new brooms sweep as clean as that.’

  Toby looked at him without comprehension.

  ‘Do you love Mother better than Bennet?’

  ‘Love Mother and Bennet.’

  ‘And no one else?’

  ‘No,’ said Toby.

  ‘The age of innocence!’ said Cassius, as he released his son. ‘It ought to be called something else.’

  ‘Innocence seems to mean a good many things,’ said Megan.

  ‘Well, you are all too much for me. So this is what it is to have a family. Whom do you and Henry love best in the world?’

  Henry and Megan looked at each other and looked away.

  ‘Come, answer a simple question.’

  ‘They have answered it,’ said Flavia, ‘and it was more than it deserved. That kind of question need not be answered.’

  ‘Why, I meant it in all innocence. What have I done now? Upon my word, I am an ill-used man. I wonder if anyone has any love for me. I shouldn’t be surprised if no one has, after all I have done for everyone.’

  ‘What have you done?’ said Henry. ‘I don’t mean you haven’t done anything. I just mean I didn’t know.’

  ‘Well, what a question! I shall not answer it. It is the kind of question that need not be answered.’

  ‘I think it is,’ said Flavia.

  ‘It was meant in all innocence,’ said Megan.

  ‘Oh, was it?’ said Cassius. ‘And is that meant in innocence too? I will not ask you if you love your father. I have had my answer.’

  ‘You know that is not true,’ said Henry. ‘Megan was making a joke.’

  ‘Oh? A joke is supposed to amuse us, isn’t it?’

  ‘I think it did amuse people.’

  ‘Well Toby,’ said Cassius, as if he did not hear, ‘you will say something kind to Father.’

  Toby submitted to be lifted and waited to earn his release.

  ‘Do you think about Father at all?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Toby, beginning to descend, as if his duty was done.

  ‘How much do you think about him?’

  ‘Very little bit,’ said Toby, with affection for the diminutive.

  ‘And whom do you think about a great deal?’

  ‘Bennet. No, Mother.’

  ‘But you have known her for such a little while.’

  ‘Very little while,’ said Toby with appreciation.

  ‘Upon my word, Catherine, you have chosen the better part. The less you do, the more you get, it seems to me.’

  ‘It does not seem so to me, who have been able to do so little.’

  ‘Megan didn’t say she didn’t love you,’ said Henry to his father. ‘It was you who said it. There is no need to make things different.’

  ‘I think we know how they are,’ said Cassius, putting his arm lightly about his son, as if he had learned better than to go further. ‘But thank you, my boy. Father knows what you mean.’

  ‘Shall we go to the drawing-room?’ said Flavia, rising from the table. ‘The children do not come with us, but the boys may like to today.’

  ‘Well, how do you feel, boys?’ said Cassius, with a faint sigh in his tone.

  ‘I should like to come,’ said Fabian.

  ‘And that means that Guy would too. I know you, speak with one voice, or that he speaks with yours.’

  ‘I will go now,’ said Catherine, standing straight and still. ‘It is enough for one day. I find it is enough. I go with a mind at peace. I go in gratitude. I shall be grateful for anything more that I am given.’

  She kissed her sons and went to the door, followed by Cassius. Flavia held out her hand to Guy, and he came and put his into it. Fabian came and stood in front of them.

  ‘I am not ungrateful, Mater. You may think I am. I shall never be,’ he said, speaking in short, quick sentences like his mother. ‘I have wanted this thing in my life. The thing the younger children had. I am glad to have it. But I know what you have given me. And I know you sometimes found it hard. I wanted the person who found it natural. But you will come third in my life. You will come after my mother and Guy. It is not much return for what you have done. But I shall not come so high in yours.’

  Flavia put her arm about him, and Cassius returned to the room, having been succeeded by Ainger in the hall. His eyes dilated coldly on what met them.

  ‘Now, boys, you may run away,’ he said, his voice not disguising that he had had his fill of emotion. ‘You have stood up to the occasion. You have borne yourselves well and made your father proud of you. And now you may be your natural selves again. It is what he wishes for you.’

  The boys withdrew and Cassius threw himself into a chair.

  ‘Well, I declare I feel that virtue has gone out of me. It was an exacting occasion, but I think I rose to it. I think I steered everyone through. Arid that was my part. What would both of you say?’

  ‘It is difficult to talk about some of it,’ said Flavia.

  ‘Yes, Fabian behaved like a man. I declare I was proud of him, and I should think Catherine was too. And I hope you were, Flavia. He did you credit, my dear. No mother could have done better for him. His own mother must have felt it. And I think she did, and meant to show it. I know her in those ways, and she gives people their due. Well, so you think it passed off well?’

  ‘In the sense that we did our best in it. We could not do more, and so I suppose it could not have been better. Fabian has thought about things more than we knew. I ought to have realized it.’

  ‘No, you ought not. You ought not to have done any more than you have. You have done everything, my dear. You have done too much. And you will not get much return for it, as far as I can see. It is a good thing you have children of your own. If you had not, you would be in a sorry place enough. But as it is, you will get your reward in your own way.’

  ‘I would choose the ordinary way. Just as the boys, would have chosen the ordinary things.’

  ‘Guy would have chosen what he has had. He has made that clear, and it is fair to him to accept it. And Catherine accepted it openly; I thought she came out well there, Flavia. It was never her way to fail under a test.’

  ‘She behaved like an honest woman. We have always known she was that.’

  ‘She was; God knows she was,’ said Cassius, in another tone. ‘I have reason to remember her honesty. I remember the level we lived on. There was no getting away with little, everyday pretensions with her. One was always stripped of everything but the stark, staring truth. And there is an inner core in everyone that hardly bears that.’

  ‘It is true that cores are naturally hidden.’

  ‘I am glad you agree with me. I am glad you are honest enough.’

  ‘It seems that honesty is a common quality,’ said Mr Clare.

  ‘Honesty of a kind,’ said his son, grimly; ‘honesty directed towards other people. It is not often that we turn it upon ourselves.’

  ‘I should have thought that Catherine was more likely to do so than most of us,’ said Flavia.

  ‘Well, perhaps she is. But she wants everyone to be subject to the same scrutiny. And people have a right to a choice in the matter, as in any other. Well, well, I suppose we are all acting. Not that I think I act overmuch. I think I am a natural sort of man. I don’t often turn my eyes on myself.’

  ‘Mrs Clare!’ said Ainger, throwing open the door.

  Catherine came forward, stood still and began to speak.

  ‘I have returned. It is against my will. I could not
do anything else. I have lost control of myself. I have been given much. I have come to ask for more. To ask to see my sons daily, hourly, when I wish, when they wish. I have come to ask for everything.’

  ‘Ah, you know the quarter to go to for that sort of thing, Catherine,’ said Cassius, as Catherine turned to his wife. ‘It has not taken you long to find that out.’

  There was a pause, and then Flavia spoke in a new tone, that still seemed to belong to herself.

  ‘I cannot give you everything. You must know that no one should ask that. It leaves the other side with nothing, and that cannot be accepted. The boys must see this house as their home; they must see me as its head. Anyone who comes to it, comes as my guest.’

  ‘I will come as your guest,’ said Catherine.

  ‘You would come as your children’s mother.’

  ‘What else am I to them?’

  ‘Many things. Among them a stranger.’

  ‘And what are you to them?’

  ‘Many things. Among them a mother.’

  ‘You could remain a mother to them.’

  ‘You know I could not, and that you would not remain a stranger.’

  ‘You did not desire me to remain so.’

  ‘I did and do desire it, to the point where you have given your word.’

  ‘I am breaking it. I do not deny it. I have not strength to keep it.’

  ‘You cannot take that cover. You had strength to give it. You must have counted the cost.’

  ‘Come, come, let the matter settle itself,’ said Cassius, flushing and coming forward as if to separate two combatants. Leave it to the future.’

  ‘I will not,’ said his wife. ‘It would mean that I had no future. My home is to be my own, and the children mine. Other people’s word may not count, but mine stands as what it is. The boys may see their mother, know her, feel her influence. That is much to ask of me. I was told it would never be asked. Words, as I say, have no meaning. So I must protect myself. The more I give, the more must be given. Things must stop somewhere. I must cease from giving.’

  ‘Few people can stand power,’ said Catherine.

  ‘What of yourself when you had it?’

  ‘I had none. I sought your mercy.’

  ‘What is that but using power? There is no strength like piti-fulness. And I have no more mercy. I have given what was in me.’