by Lao She
SPIRIT DWELLING OF THE GREAT
IMMORTAL UNCLE KARL
I knew that if I ventured over to ask them about it, they would disappear like a morning fog chased by the wind. I slipped up quietly behind them and kneeled down to overhear whatever I could.
One of those in the front row got up, stood upon the inscribed stone and addressed the group. ‘Long live Uncle Karlskyism! Long live Everybody Shareskyism! Long live Pinsky-pansky Pospos!’ They all echoed his cries. After they had stopped shouting, the one who had stood up addressed them as they sat on the ground. ‘We must overthrow the Great Spirit and concentrate all of our faith in Uncle Karl the Great! We must overthrow our fathers and teachers; and to hasten the recovery of our freedom, we must overthrow the emperor and put Everybody Shareskyism into practice. We welcome the foreigners who invade us today, for they pinsky-pansky pospos! Let’s go and take the emperor into custody so that we can present him to our foreign comrades; that’s our only hope. We must capture the emperor immediately, and then we’ll round up all our fathers and teachers and kill off every last one of them. When they’re all dead the reverie leaves will all be ours; the women will all be ours; the people will all be our slaves; and even Everybody Shareskyism will be ours! Uncle Karl the Great has said: “Pinsky-pansky Pospos is the dinsky-dansky dosdos of both upper and lower levels of Hingy-hongy Hopo!” And now, on to the palace!’
No one made the slightest move. ‘Let’s go right now!’ But still no one moved.
One suggested, ‘Why don’t we all go home and kill off our fathers first?’ Another said, ‘There are too many palace troops; there’s no point in taking a beating because of haste!’
They were all starting to get up.
‘Sit down! All right, is it decided then that we go home and get rid of our fathers first?’
They all began turning to their neighbours, asking this and answering that.
‘If we kill our fathers, where will we get our reverie leaves from?’ asked one of them.
‘But that’s just the reason we ought to kill them. The reverie leaves are all in their hands,’ opined another.
‘Since we are not agreed on a united course of action, let’s split up and go our own ways. Let the kill-the-emperor faction go and kill the emperor, and the kill-our-fathers faction go home and kill their fathers,’ said still another.
‘But Uncle Karl the Great only took up the kill-the-emperor pogsomosky. He didn’t say anything about killing our fathers.’
‘Counter-revolutionary!’
‘Let’s kill that misinterpreter of the sacred words of Uncle Karl the Great!’
I thought that this would lead to immediate bloodshed, but for a long time, no one made a move. Things were hopelessly disorganised. Gradually the main body of students split up into several small groups. They all stood facing Uncle Karl the Great’s spirit tablet. After quite a while, each splinter group consisted of only one person, still facing the stone and making as much fuss as ever. After working up a lather about this, and flying into a rage about that, they were all exhausted. Summoning up every bit of strength they had left, they all faced the stone and cried, ‘Long live Uncle Karl!’ And then they all departed, each going his own separate way.
What kind of circus was this?
EVERYTHING IS BEGINNING TO COLLAPSE
I DIDN’T feel like criticising the Cat People any more; criticism won’t turn a lump of stone into an exquisite sculpture. Anything that I could possibly forgive them, I fully excused; and those things that were past all excuse, I blamed on their unlucky environment.
I went to wait for Young Scorpion, still hoping to go to the front with him to see things for myself. I was almost totally ignorant of the international situation among the various Martian states. I asked Revery, but all that she knew was that such-and-such a country’s face powder was much whiter and finer than the Cat Country product. She answered every question that I had with a negative shake of her pretty little head. And after each of my questions, she in turn would ask, ‘Why isn’t he here yet?’ It was an effective counter-attack, for that question was one that I couldn’t answer either. All I could do was offer a silent prayer on behalf of all the women of Mars that there would never be another war.
After we had waited for a whole day, he still hadn’t come back. Revery was beside herself. The officials had all evacuated the city and the streets were no longer as lively as usual, though quite a few people still came to see Hawk’s head. There was no way of getting any news. You couldn’t ask anybody, for no one knew anything about national affairs, despite the fact that national was one of the most frequently used words in Felinese: reverie leaves were the ‘national’ food; Hawk had been a ‘national’ villain; the stinking mud in the ditch had been called ‘national’ mud.
I felt like going to see the foreign enclave, but at the same time I was afraid that Young Scorpion might return while I was out. Revery stuck to me like glue, and kept saying, ‘Don’t you think we’d better run away too? Everyone else is gone; even the other girls have gone!’ I merely shook my head, for I couldn’t think of a suitable reply.
After we’d spent another day waiting, Young Scorpion came home. The expression of happy boredom that I was used to seeing on his face had completely disappeared. Revery was so happy that she couldn’t speak, and simply stared at him through tear-filled eyes. I let him catch his breath before I asked how things were going.
‘It’s hopeless,’ he sighed.
Revery looked at me, looked at him, and then gathered together enough strength to force out a question that she had wanted to ask for some time but hadn’t dared. ‘Are you still going to leave?’
Without looking at her, Young Scorpion shook his head.
I didn’t dare press the issue, just in case Young Scorpion was lying. What would be the point of wringing the truth out of him only to hurt Revery? Of course, even if I did press him, there was no guarantee that I’d be able to tell whether or not he was trying to hoodwink her.
After a good rest, he said that he was going to see his father. Revery didn’t say anything, but one could somehow sense that she was determined to go with him. Apparently Young Scorpion sensed it too, for he seemed at a loss as to what to do, and his very uneasiness gave away more than half his secret. I decided that perhaps I should help him pull the wool over Revery’s eyes, but the expression in those eyes made me shrink back. Young Scorpion was still pacing about when Revery, unable to contain herself any longer, said, ‘I’m going anywhere that you do!’ Her tears followed the words and Young Scorpion lowered his head.
After a long pause he raised his head and said, ‘Perhaps it will be just as well.’
It was my turn, ‘I’ll tag along too.’ Of course, my motives were quite different from Revery’s.
We walked westwards, but all the people we met on the way were headed east. Even the soldiers were marching eastwards.
‘Why is the army moving to the east when the enemy is on the western front?’ I asked without thinking.
‘Because there’s peace and safety to the east,’ Young Scorpion replied with ill-concealed anger.
We ran into quite a few scholars. Divided into a traditional and a modern group, they too were proceeding towards the east. The traditional scholars came first and seemed in unusually high spirits. A few of the old school came over and greeted Young Scorpion. ‘We’re going east to see the emperor. We’re going to hold an academic conclave before the throne. Saving the country, of course, is everybody’s business, but it takes scholars to come up with real ideas about what to do. Scholars! Do any of you know how many soldiers are at the front? Do you think that the enemy will occupy Cat City? For if it looks as though he will, then of course we shall have to advise His Highness to remove a bit more to the east. There’s no question about it. And to think that at a time like this His Glorious Majesty has still not forgotten his scholars! And in return, his glorious scholars will wear themselves out in loyal service to His Glorious Highness!�
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Young Scorpion didn’t make a sound, but the traditional scholars, brimming over with ‘glory’ because they had been summoned by the emperor, were apparently unaware of anything amiss in his silence.
They had barely left when Young Scorpion was surrounded by another delegation, this one from the group of young scholars. They seemed exceedingly depressed, as if each of them had just lost a close relative. ‘Help us! Help us, great sir! Why has the emperor convened an academic conclave and yet left us out? Can our scholarship be one whit inferior to that of the older group of dogs? Can our reputations be any lower than those of that group of beasts? We simply must attend that conclave! If we don’t, who will consider us as scholars any more? Great sir, we implore you as a personal favour to use your prestige to have us included in that conclave!’ As before, Young Scorpion remained stonily silent. The young scholars became frantic. ‘If, great sir, you are unwilling to help us, then do not blame us if we start criticising the government so that every man’s honour will be whittled away without exception!’ Young Scorpion grabbed Revery by the hand and went on his way, leaving the young scholars loudly weeping their outcast fate.
Some troops approached us. Around his neck, each of the soldiers sported a necklace made of red cord. I had never seen this kind of army before, but I hadn’t the heart to ask Young Scorpion about it, for I knew that the scholars still had him seething with anger. However, he guessed what I was thinking, and suddenly roared with mad laughter. ‘You’re wondering what kind of an army this is aren’t you? This is our National Shareskyism Corps. This kind of army has in the past been organised in other countries too; they all wear red cords about their necks to symbolise their affiliation. But in other countries, the Shareskyism Corps has always been composed of chauvinists whose minds have been filled with thoughts of country to the complete exclusion of any personal aim, every man an ardent and hidebound follower of Shareskyism. But as you see, our Red Cord Corps is moving out to an area of peace and safety just like everyone else. You see, they’re too patriotic. After all, their corps belongs to the nation, and to allow the nation’s armed forces to be destroyed out of any personal consideration would be clearly unpatriotic. Besides, if they were killed by the enemy, how could they be patriotic any more? You have to be sharp to follow their reasoning!’ Once more, Young Scorpion burst into gales of mad laughter, and for a moment I feared that he had really lost his senses.
I didn’t dare say anything more, but simply continued marching ahead, observing the Red Corps out of the corner of my eye. In the middle of the corps a man was being carried by ten or so soldiers; the cord around his neck was unusually thick. Young Scorpion took a look at him and said to me in a low voice, ‘He’s the commander of the Red Cord Corps. His ambition is to snatch all political authority into his own two hands. Then he can become a dictator and make Cat Country strong, as has happened in some other countries. He hasn’t yet attained complete authority, but he is more powerful than anyone else – or perhaps I should say “crafty”. For instance, right now it looks as though he’s retreating to defend the capital, but what he’s really doing is moving towards the capital to finish off the emperor and thus realise at last his own ambitious plans. I’m sure of it!’
‘Well, perhaps it will be to the best interests of Cat Country anyway,’ I observed.
‘I’d agree with you that you can attain political power through craftiness, but I’m not sure that you can make the country strong that way. The most important thing to that man are his personal ambitions; the concept of “country” doesn’t even exist in his mind. Those who really love their country spill their blood against its enemies.’
I began to realise that the arrival of enemy soldiers was going to be the fuse to set off a civil war. The passing mass of red cords began to blur before my eyes and then it suddenly turned into an inglorious sea of red blood in which soldiers were floundering about.
We were already well out of Cat City, and for some reason or other that I couldn’t quite put my finger on, I had the feeling that I should never see it again. Before we had gone much further, we ran into a rather singular group of Cat People. They were all very tall and unusually stupid looking. Each of them grasped a blade of grass in his hand. Revery, who hadn’t spoken for a long time, suddenly said, ‘Thank goodness! The Great Mystics from the West have come!’
‘What in the hell are you talking about?’ I had never before seen Young Scorpion angry with Revery, but now he was obviously furious. Revery immediately changed her tune.
‘I don’t really believe in them, Scorpion.’
I knew that if I threw in a question I could deflect some of the anger that he was preparing to heap on Revery. ‘What Great Mystics?’ I asked.
Young Scorpion did not react immediately. Then instead of answering, he asked a question of me. ‘What would you say the greatest weakness of the Cat People is?’
That really was a hard one, and I began to ponder it.
Young Scorpion answered it himself. ‘Mixed up!’ I knew that he didn’t mean me.
We continued walking for a bit and then he said, ‘You see, my friend, our fatal weakness is being always mixed up. Among all of our people you cannot find a single one who fully understands anything. That’s why we are always imitating others: it makes us seem less mixed up and a casual observer might even be misled into believing that the imitation is the real thing and that we really do know and understand a lot. That’s why we sometimes pretend to understand something new even when we don’t.
‘And yet, as you can well see by observing Revery’s reaction to these mystics, whenever catastrophe is imminent, we will toss to one side all of the new terms we’ve memorised, and returning to old ways, we will reach for the most absurd and confused of concepts – concepts which lie stored in the deepest cellars of our spirits – and haul them out again. You see, we are empty to begin with, and as soon as we panic we expose our emptiness and begin calling for mama just like little children. For instance, as soon as the followers of Everybody Shareskyism panic, they burn incense and pray to Uncle Karl the Great, blithely oblivious to the fact that their Uncle Karl was one of the greatest enemies of superstition who ever lived. When our revolutionaries panic, they begin the transport of the Great Mystics from the West wholesale, people who are much more mixed up than they are mystical, a muddle-headed crew who only know how to walk around carrying stalks of grass. No one has any understanding of problems, and then when the point arrives where a problem must be solved immediately, they call in the Great Mystics. This is the very reason that we are certain to perish; we are all muddle-headed and confused. Economics, education, military affairs – none is really enough to extinguish a nation – but when every last person is muddle-headed and confused – that is enough to destroy a race. For no one on our entire planet will treat as people, creatures who are as stupid and confused as beasts. This time our defeat is a foregone conclusion, and after our defeat, wait and see if the enemy doesn’t slaughter every last one of us precisely because they don’t regard us as people to begin with. Thus when they do kill us, it will seem to them much more like slaughtering animals than killing people. It will be a slaughter that will elicit absolutely no response from any other country, for no one ever gets all that worked up over the butchering of animals. People are always cruel to those whom they don’t respect. Generally, people don’t respect other people who are hopelessly confused. They will often exterminate such creatures without a second thought. You wait and see if my words aren’t borne out.’
I really felt like going back to see what the Great Mystics from the West were up to, but I couldn’t bring myself to desert Young Scorpion and Revery.
We rested for a while in a village. What I mean by ‘village’ is simply a place where there were the ruins of a few collapsed houses, but no people.
‘When I was little,’ Young Scorpion began, and one could tell from the tone of his voice that he was reminiscing over the idyll of childhood, ‘this was a l
arge village. And that was not too many years ago; and now, there’s not so much as a single shadow! The destruction of an entire people can come about very easily!’ He seemed to be talking to himself, and in order to spare him further pain I refrained from asking him how it was that this village had been destroyed.
Besides, I could almost answer it myself: revolution. War follows in the wake of every revolution; but it is the victorious ones who are helpless. Understanding only how to tear things down, they lack the imagination and ardour necessary to build things up again. And the only result of the revolution is to increase the number of soldiers in arms and the number of corrupt officials preying upon the common people. In this kind of situation the common people will go hungry whether they work or not. And so it had probably been with this deserted village. The villagers had no doubt begun to run into the cities or had joined the army for a few reverie leaves a month. This one dies, and that one becomes a refugee, and before you know it, the village is emptied clean as a barrel. To carry on a revolution without the knowledge necessary for its success – what a terribly dangerous thing that is! Nothing would save the Cat People unless they themselves realise that revolution is nothing but a noose about their necks.
I was just in the midst of this train of thought when Revery suddenly jumped up. ‘Look over there!’
Off to the west a great cloud of grey dust rose high into the sky as though some terrible and unnatural wind had suddenly stirred it up.
Young Scorpion’s lips were visibly trembling as he said, ‘They’re falling back in full rout!’
THE LAST GASP OF A DYING STATE
‘YOU TWO had better hide.’ Although Young Scorpion’s tone was calm, he was obviously worried; I had never before seen such an intense expression in his eyes. ‘Our soldiers don’t show much aggressiveness as they approach the front, but in retreat they run wild. You really ought to hide.’
