THE TRUE STORY OF AH Q (Chapter 2)
A BRIEF ACCOUNT OF AH Q’S VICTORIES
In addition to the uncertainty regarding Ah Q’s surname, personal name, and place of origin, there is even some uncertainty regarding his “background.” This is because the people of Weichuang only made use of his services or treated him as a laughing-stock, without ever paying the slightest attention to his “background.” Ah Q himself remained silent on this subject, except that when quarrelling with someone he might glance at him and say, “We used to be much better off than you! Who do you think you are anyway?”
Ah Q had no family but lived in the Tutelary God’s Temple at Weichuang. He had no regular work either, simply doing odd jobs for others: were there wheat to be cut he would cut it, were there rice to be ground he would grind it, were there a boat to be punted he would punt it. If the work lasted for a considerable period he might stay in the house of his temporary employer, but as soon as it was finished he would leave. Thus whenever people had work to be done they would remember Ah Q, but what they remembered was his service and not his “background”; and by the time the job was done even Ah Q himself was forgotten, to say nothing of his “background.” Once indeed an old man remarked, “What a good worker Ah Q is!” At that time Ah Q, stripped to the waist, listless and lean, was standing before him, and other people did not know whether the remark was meant seriously or derisively, but Ah Q was overjoyed.
Ah Q, again, had a very high opinion of himself. He looked down on all the inhabitants of Weichuang, thinking even the two young “scholars” not worth a smile, though most young scholars were likely to pass the official examinations. Mr. Chao and Mr. Chien were held in great respect by the villagers, for in addition to being rich they were both the fathers of young scholars. Ah Q alone showed them no exceptional deference, thinking to himself, “My sons may be much greater!”
Moreover, after Ah Q had been to town several times, he naturally became even more conceited, although at the same time he had the greatest contempt for townspeople. For instance, a bench made of a wooden plank three feet by three inches the Weichuang villagers called a “long bench.” Ah Q called it a “long bench” too; but the townspeople called it a “straight bench,” and he thought, “This is wrong. How ridiculous!” Again, when they fried large-headed fish in oil the Weichuang villagers all added shallot leaves sliced half an inch long, whereas the townspeople added finely shredded shallots, and he thought, “This is wrong too. How ridiculous!” But the Weichuang villagers were really ignorant rustics who had never seen fish fried in town!
Ah Q who “used to be much better off,” who was a man of the world and “a good worker,” would have been almost the perfect man had it nor been for a few unfortunate physical blemishes. The most annoying were some places on his scalp where in the past, at some uncertain dare, shiny ringworm scars had appeared. Although these were on his own head, apparently Ah Q did not consider them as altogether honourable, for he refrained from using the word “ringworm” or any words that sounded anything like it. Later he improved on this, making “bright” and “light” forbidden words, while later still even “lamp” and “candle” were taboo. Whenever this taboo was disregarded, whether intentionally or not, Ah Q would fly into a rage, his ringworm scars turning scarlet. He would look over the offender, and if it were someone weak in repartee he would curse him, while if it were a poor fighter he would hit him. Yet, curiously enough, it was usually Ah Q who was worsted in these encounters, until finally he adopted new tactics, contenting himself in general with a furious glare.
It so happened, however, that after Ah Q had taken to using this furious glare, the idlers in Weichuang grew even more fond of making jokes at his expense. As soon as they saw him they would pretend to give a start, and say:
“Look! It’s lighting up.”
Ah Q would rise to the bait as usual, and glare furiously.
“So there is a paraffin lamp here,” they would continue, not in the least intimidated.
Ah Q could do nothing but rack his brains for some retort: “You don’t even deserve. . . .” At this juncture it seemed as if the scars on his scalp were noble and honourable, not just ordinary ringworm scars. However, as we said above, Ah Q was a man of the world: he knew at once that he had neatly broken the “taboo” and refrained from saying any more.
If the idlers were still not satisfied, but continued to bait him, they would in the end come to blows. Then only after Ah Q had, to all appearances, been defeated, had his brownish pigtail pulled and his head bumped against the wall four or five times, would the idlers walk away, satisfied at having won. Ah Q would stand there for a second, thinking to himself, “It is as if I were beaten by my son. What is the world coming to nowadays. . . .” Thereupon he too would walk away, satisfied at having won.
Whatever Ah Q thought he was sure to tell people later; thus almost all who made fun of Ah Q knew that he had this means of winning a psychological victory. So after this anyone who pulled or twisted his brown pigtail would forestall him by saying: “Ah Q, this is not a son beating his father, it is a man beating a beast. Let’s hear you say it: A man bearing a beast!”
Then Ah Q, clutching at the root of his pigtail, his head on one side, would say: “Beating an insect—how about that? I am an insect—now will you let me go?”
But although he was an insect the idlers would not let him go until they had knocked his head five or six times against something nearby, according to their custom, after which they would walk away satisfied that they had won, confident that this time Ah Q was done for. In less than ten seconds, however, Ah Q would walk away also satisfied that he had won, thinking that he was the “foremost self-belittler,” and that after subtracting “self-belittler” what remained was “foremost.” Was not the highest successful candidate in the official examination also the “foremost”? “And who do you think you are anyway?”
After employing such cunning devices to get even with his enemies, Ah Q would make his way cheerfully to the wine shop to drink a few bowls of wine, joke with the others again, quarrel with them again, come off victorious again, and return cheerfully to the Tutelary God’s Temple, there to fall asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. If he had money he would gamble. A group of men would squat on the ground, Ah Q sandwiched in their midst, his face streaming with perspiration; and his voice would shout the loudest: “Four hundred on the Green Dragon!”
“Hey—open there!” the stakeholder, his face streaming with perspiration too, would open the box and chant: “Heavenly Gate! . . . Nothing for the Corner! . . . No stakes on the Popularity Passage! Pass over Ah Q’s coppers!”
“The Passage—one hundred—one hundred and fifty.”
To the tune of this chanting, Ah Q’s money would gradually vanish into the pockets of other perspiring people. Finally he would be forced to squeeze his way out of the crowd and watch from the back, taking a vicarious interest in the game until it broke up, when he would return reluctantly to the Tutelary God’s Temple. The next day he would go to work with swollen eyes.
However, the truth of the proverb “misfortune may be a blessing in disguise” was shown when Ah Q was unfortunate enough to win and almost suffered defeat in the end.
This was the evening of the Festival of the Gods in Weichuang. According to custom there was a play; and close to the stage, also according to custom, were numerous gambling tables. The drums and gongs of the play sounded about three miles away to Ah Q who had ears only for the stake-holder’s chant. He staked successfully again and again, his coppers turning into silver coins, his silver coins into dollars, and his dollars mounting up. In his excitement he cried our, “Two dollars on Heavenly Gate!”
He never knew who started the fight, nor for what reason. Curses, blows and footsteps formed a confused medley of sound in his head, and by the time he clambered to his feet the gambling tables had vanished and so had the gamblers. Several parts of his body seemed to be aching as if he had been kicked and knocked about, while a number of people were looking at him in astonishment. Feeling as if there were something amiss, he walked back to the Tutelary God’s Temple, and by the time he regained his composure he realized that his pile of dollars had disappeared. Since most of the people who ran gambling tables at the Festival were not natives of Weichuang, where could he look for the culprits?
So white and glittering a pile of silver! It had all been his . . . but now it had disappeared. Even to consider it tantamount to being robbed by his son did not comfort him. To consider himself as an insect did not comfort him either. This time he really tasted something of the bitterness of defeat.
But presently he changed defeat into victory. Raising his right hand he slapped his own face hard twice, so that it tingled with pain. After this slapping his heart felt lighter, for it seemed as if the one who had given the slap was himself, the one slapped some other self, and soon it was just as if he had beaten someone else—in spite of the fact that his face was still tingling. He lay down satisfied that he had gained the victory.
Soon he was asleep.