A Century of Change for a Chinese Diplomat

and his Family

Judith T. Lau 田之雲

1. "A Century of Change for a Chinese Diplomat and his Family," 中譯版為〈父親的外交生涯〉，原刊於《田寶岱回憶録》附錄一(頁157-236)。該書由張力編輯、校訂，中央研究院近代史研究所2015年出版。感謝近代史所研究所惠予同意轉載。

2.  作者田之雲於1956-1959年就讀臺大外文系，中譯者周素鳳於1967-1981年就讀臺大外文研究所。

3.  因考量篇幅與附錄屬性，中譯文有所刪減。

4.  作者於中譯文完成後，若干增補處以信件與譯者討論，由譯者直接補述。

 

PREFACE

 

 

My 1960 classmates and I at the Department of Foreign Languages and Literature (DFLL) are members of the “Lucky Generation” - the babies who grew up after two centuries of wars and chaos in China. We owe everything to our parents and generations of our elders who struggled through the centuries of turmoil and sacrifice to create a better life for us. Professor Ignatius Ying (英千⾥教授), Chair of DFLL (1950-1966) was a heroic model of the Generation of Resistance War (抗戰時期). 

 

In mid-September of 1956, I first met Prof. Ying as Prof Ying carefully stepped out of his pedicab. My mother and I were waiting to speak to Prof. Ying at the threshold of his acclaimed freshman class “History of English Literature”. I was startled to see that the renowned educator was a slight, stooped figure. He was wearing a shabby but well cut suit coat, thick for the yet warm September day. My mother politely addressed Prof Ying to introduce me and explain my lateness (by 2 weeks) in registering for his class. Nodding slightly to my mother, Professor Ying perfunctorily glanced at me. As I looked into a pair of eyes behind round spectacles of penetrating intelligence that belied his otherwise frail physique, I could see a quiet strength of character. I would learn that Professor Ying was the one teacher a student would never forget. When Professor Ying spoke, his voice, powerful presence and mesmerizing lectures transfixed the theater size hall of students. 

 

The last time I saw Professor Ying was in early January 1960 when I was summoned out of class to his narrow office. Professor Ying sat at his desk, warmed against the wet chill of the concrete floor by a small electric heater at his feet and a blanket on his lap. In his perfect British accented English, Professor Ying asked me what I learned in my 3 1/2 years at NTU (National Taiwan University). He listened intently to my answers, nodded with barely a wisp of a smile and sent me off to meet with Dean of Student Affairs. I was told that I would represent NTU in the national selection of a delegate to the International Student Leaders Conference sponsored by the United States State Dept. Following rounds of government agency interviews, I was chosen as one of 2 delegates to attend the Feb-March 1960 conference at the University of Hawaii and several major US universities. 

 

Unforeseen to me at that time, Professor Ying had opened a new world to me that changed my life. When I returned to Taipei in March to thank Professor Ying, he was not in his office that day as the little electric coil heater was not in its usual place. Though I never saw Professor Ying again, his captivating lectures, his dedication to the education of generations of students, his calm fortitude through suffering and loss are deeply imbedded in my memory.

 

My classmate Patrick Wang (王華燕) has never forgotten the opportunities Professor Ying opened up for the many DFLL alumni. In gratitude to Prof Ying, to the DFLL professors and to the National Taiwan University system, Patrick founded a scholarship and website for Professor Ying. Patrick’s generosity to the DFLL, his classmates and in every facet of his remarkable life encourages all who know Patrick to follow his example as best we can. 

 

I am privileged to share the series of chronicles I had written for my father’s Memoir (⽥寶岱大使回憶錄 1916-2015) published in 2015 by the esteemed Academia Sinica,  Institute of Modern Chinese History, edited by Prof. Chang Li (張力教授).  My English narrative to the Memoir was translated into Chinese with consummate elegance by Prof Chou Su-feng (周素鳳教授), who studied at DFLL during 1967 and 1981. I have requested that Prof. Chou’s Chinese translation accompany my original English chapters as I believe students of languages will appreciate and learn from Prof Chou’s erudite knowledge of 2 languages and graceful interpretation of both substance and style.

 

To all our DFLL students present and past, please carry forward the aspirations of our present and past NTU academics who have assiduously cultivated a modern day, higher education environment to nourish young minds and hearts in keeping with our traditional Chinese reverence for learning.                                                               

 Vignette 1: My Earliest Memory

My earliest memory of my father was when I was not quite 3 years old and received my first spanking.

 

In 1938, newlywed father and mother fled the Japanese occupied Beiping (Beijing today) with the latterly formed National Southwestern Associated University( 西南聯合大學， Peking, Tsinghua and Nankai Universities) to Kunming (昆明), where I was born the following year. In 1939, father graduated and joined the Foreign Ministry hunkered with the wartime Central Government in the mountains of Chungking (重慶). I remember often sitting very still for hours on a small stool underneath a table where it was dark and felt safe, watching the adults in a soft pool of yellow light, comforted by their lively voices mixed with reassuring laughter. At times, after a while a new guest would suddenly ask in alarm, "孩子在哪?" Familiar guests would nod in the direction of the table, "躲那兒呢."

 

Kunming 1938, the newlywed couple 

Kunming 1939, Father, mother

 Kunming 1939, Mother and I  

Kunming 1939, Mother and I    

In 1941, a friend of my father's who was serving in the ROC army protecting the 700 miles Burma Road（滇緬公路） supply line between China and Burma, was on leave in Chungking. He left his sidearm with my parents during his short leave. When he came back to retrieve his pistol, my parents could not find the weapon which they had carefully tucked from view on the top of a tall bureau, obscured behind the rim. My father was responsible for its safekeeping during this perilous Resistance War  period and was frantically searching the apartment. My parents recount that I observed them quietly for a while and then piped up, "是不是華華打日本人的那個東西?" My very annoyed father shushed me, "躲開。小孩兒不要亂說話!" I burst out "我知道在哪兒!" They stared at me in disbelief as I trotted over to my little toy chest, opened it and showed them the pistol. My father's reaction was first relief and then furious anger! I still clearly remember father's left hand tightly gripping my left wrist and soundly pummeling my bottom as I shreikingly ran in inescapable counterclockwise circles until my mother pleaded, "這個孩子呀!不要打了! 不要打了!" Apparently, I had stacked my little stool on top of a chair and claimed the intriguing new toy my parents had hidden on top of the bureau.

 

Another clear memory was my second crying session in the home of my 大伯 (Big Uncle) Tien Bao-qi (田寶齊), my father's oldest brother. Nine years older than my father, 大伯 was a Russian linguist and had in 1928 joined the Foreign Ministry when the government was located in Nanjing. In 1930, 大伯 was posted to Russia for 12 years until 1942 when he was recalled to the Chungking Foreign Ministry home office from his posting in the Moscow embassy. 大伯, his wife and 7 year old daughter 之秋 had taken up residence on the safer, less targeted outskirts of Chunking than the city center which was under near daily summertime Japanese incendiary bombing and strafing. My parents were horrified by the deaths of 10,000 civilians between June 5-7th, 1941 from bombing, strafing, panic stampedes or asphyxiation in air raid shelters and decided to send me to live with Uncle, out of harm's way. Both my father and mother worked and were worried my nanny could not carry me quickly enough into the air raid shelters dug into the mountains of Chunking. Perhaps my habitual hiding under the table also concerned them.

 

My parents took me to 大伯 and asked if he and his wife could take care of me. My 伯母 grumbled she could barely manage their one child, "自個兒的孩子都招呼不過來，還招呼人家的孩子!" 大伯 placed his hand on my head: "這也是我家的孩子."

 

That was settled and I remember my second crying session after my parents left me with people I considered strangers.  To the credit of 伯母 she did not mistreat me and I remember I learned to love being with my cousin 之秋, clinging to her at night in her cozy single bed under a mosquito net.

 

 

父親的外交生涯

周素鳳譯

最早的記憶

    

             對父親最早的記憶是被他抓著打屁股，那時我還不滿三歲，是人生中第一次被打。

    父親在1939年進入外交部後，舉家遷至重慶。那時候我喜歡躲在桌子底下，端坐在小板凳上，父母和朋友圍坐在柔黃的燈光下談天說地，我在漆黑的桌底世界聽著他們說話，彷彿一種撫慰，讓我覺得特別安心。

    父親有個軍方的朋友，負責滇緬公路運輸補給線的防務。1941年，他趁休假到重慶幾天，將配槍留託父母保管；等到他回來取槍時，父母遍尋不著，急得在屋裡翻箱倒櫃。父母說我當時靜靜地在旁邊看了一會兒，突然發問：「是不是華華打日本人的那個東西？」父親急得不得了，不耐煩地說：「躲開，小孩兒不要亂說話！」我說：「我知道在哪兒！」他們半信半疑地看著我跑到玩具箱，打開來，裡面就是一把槍——我還以為那是我的新玩具。父親先是鬆了一口氣，接著滿臉怒容。我還記得父親抓著我的左手打我屁股，我一直要掙脫往前躲，父親不肯鬆開我的左手，一直在我背後打，我拼命要逃。我們兩人就這樣逆時針方向轉著圈子跑，直到母親說情：「這個孩子呀！不要打了，不要打了，夠了！」

    我的大伯父田寶齊專攻俄語，也在外交部任職，於1938年卸下駐莫斯科三等秘書的職務，返回重慶。大伯父，大伯母和七歲的之秋堂姐住在郊區，那裡不是日軍猛烈轟炸的主要目標。重慶市區在冬日裡濃霧瀰漫，像是一層保護網，到了春天，雲消霧散，四周環山的市區暴露無遺，正是日本空軍耀武揚威猛烈轟炸的時機。他們通常會連續瘋狂轟炸六個月，於是父母決定將我送去大伯父家，遠離高危險的市區。那時父母都有工作，他們擔心保母帶著一個胖嘟嘟、連路都走不穩的小孩，沒辦法及時逃到山裡的防空洞躲避。而且我經常躲在桌子底子下，即使在夜裡也照躲不誤，這樣的行為可能也讓他們覺得不妥。

    父母帶我到大伯父家，問他和大伯母是否可以收容我，大伯母咕噥說：「自個兒的孩子都招呼不過來，還招呼人家的孩子！」大伯父聽到後聲色俱厲地瞪著大伯母：「什麼人家的孩子，」大伯父把手放在我的頭上，「這也是我家的孩子。」

    安排妥當之後，我被留在大伯父家，環顧四周陌生的臉孔，我不禁嚎啕大哭。其實大伯母並沒有對我不好，而且我很喜歡之秋堂姐，到了晚上還黏著她，跟她擠在罩著蚊帳的單人床。