THE TRUE STORY OF AH Q (Chapter 3)
A FURTHER ACCOUNT OF AH Q’S VICTORIES
Although Ah Q was always gaining victories, it was only after he was favoured with a slap on the face by Mr. Chao that he became famous.
After paying the bailiff two hundred cash he lay down angrily. Later he said to himself, “What is the world coming to nowadays, with sons beating their parents. . . .” Then the thought of the prestige of Mr. Chao, who was now his son, gradually raised his spirits, and he got up and went to the wine shop singing The Young Widow at Her Husband’s Grave. At that time he did feel that Mr. Chao was a cut above most people.
After this incident, strange to relate, it was true that everybody seemed to pay him unusual respect. He probably attributed this to the fact that he was Mr. Chao’s father, but actually such was not the case. In Weichuang, as a rule, if the seventh child hit the eighth child or Li So-and-so hit Chang So-and-so, it was not taken seriously. A heating had to be connected with some important personage like Mr. Chao before the villagers thought it worth talking about. But once they thought it worth talking about, since the beater was famous, the one beaten enjoyed some of his reflected fame. As for the fault being Ah Q’s, that was naturally taken for granted, the reason being that Mr. Chao could not possibly be wrong. But if Ah Q were wrong, why did everybody seem to treat him with unusual respect? This is difficult to explain. We may put forward the hypothesis that it was because Ah Q had said he belonged to the same family as Mr. Chao; thus, although he had been beaten, people were still afraid there might be some truth in what he said and therefore thought it safer to treat him more respectfully. Or, alternatively, it may have been like the case of the sacrificial beef in the Confucian temple: although the beef was in the same category as the sacrificial pork and mutton, being of animal origin just as they were, later Confucians did not dare touch it since the sage had enjoyed it.
After this Ah Q prospered for several years.
One spring, when he was walking along in a state of happy intoxication, he saw Whiskers Wang sitting stripped to the waist in the sunlight at the foot of a wall, catching lice; and at this sight his own body began to itch. Since Whiskers Wang was scabby and bewhiskered, everybody called him “Ringworm Whiskers Wang.” Although Ah Q omitted the word “Ringworm,” he had the greatest contempt for the man. Ah Q felt that while scabs were nothing to take exception to, such hairy cheeks were really too outlandish, and could excite nothing but scorn. So Ah Q sat down by his side. If it had been any other idler, Ah Q would never have dared sit down so casually; but what had he to fear by the side of Whiskers Wang? To tell the truth, the fact that he was willing to sit down was an honour for Wang.
Ah Q took off his tattered lined jacket, and turned it inside out; but either because he had washed it recently or because he was too clumsy, a long search yielded only three or four lice. He saw that Whiskers Wang, on the other hand, was catching first one and then another in swift succession, cracking them in his teeth with a popping sound.
Ah Q felt first disappointed, then resentful: the despicable Whiskers Wang could catch so many while he himself had caught so few—what a great loss of face! He longed to catch one or two big ones, but there were none, and it was only with considerable difficulty that he managed to catch a middle-sized one, which he thrust fiercely into his mouth and bit savagely; but it only gave a small sputtering sound, again inferior to the noise Whiskers Wang was making.
All Ah Q’s scars turned scarlet. Flinging his jacket on the ground, he spat and said, “Hairy worm!”
“Mangy dog, who are you calling names?” Whiskers Wang looked up contemptuously.
Although the relative respect accorded him in recent years had increased Ah Q’s pride, when confronted by loafers who were accustomed to fighting he remained rather timid. On this occasion, however, he was feeling exceptionally pugnacious. How dare a hairy-cheeked creature like this insult him?
“Anyone who the name fits,” said Ah Q standing up, his hands on his hips.
“Are your bones itching?” demanded Whiskers Wang, standing up too and putting on his coat.
Thinking that Wang meant to run away, Ah Q stepped forward raising his fist to punch him. But before his fist came down, Whiskers Wang had already seized him and given him a tug which sent him staggering. Then Whiskers Wang seized Ah Q’s pigtail and started dragging him towards the wall to knock his head in the time-honoured manner.
“‘A gentleman uses his tongue but not his hands!'” protested Ah Q, his head on one side.
Apparently Whiskers Wang was no gentleman, for without paying the slightest attention to what Ah Q said he knocked his head against the wall five times in succession, and gave him a great shove which sent him staggering two yards away. Only then did Whiskers Wang walk away satisfied.
As far as Ah Q could remember, this was the first humiliation of his life, because he had always scoffed at Whiskers Wang on account of his ugly bewhiskered cheeks, but had never been scoffed at, much less beaten by him. And now, contrary to all expectations, Whiskers Wang had beaten him. Perhaps what they said in the market-place was really true: “The Emperor has abolished the official examinations, so that scholars who have passed them are no longer in demand.” As a result of this the Chao family must have lost prestige. Was it a result of this, too, that people were treating him contemptuously?
Ah Q stood there irresolutely.
From the distance approached another of Ah Q’s enemies. This was Mr. Chien’s eldest son whom Ah Q also despised. After studying in a foreign school in the city, it seemed he had gone to Japan. When he came home half a year later his legs were straight and his pigtail had disappeared. His mother cried bitterly a dozen times, and his wife tried three times to jump into the well. Later his mother told everyone, “His pigtail was cut off by some scoundrel when he was drunk. He would have been able to be an official, but now he will have to wait until it has grown again before he thinks of that.” Ah Q did not, however, believe this, and insisted on calling him “Imitation Foreign Devil” and “Traitor in Foreign Pay.” As soon as Ah Q saw him he would start cursing under his breath.
What Ah Q despised and detested most in him was his false pigtail. When it came to having a false pigtail, a man could scarcely be considered human; and the fact that his wife had not attempted to jump into the well a fourth time showed that she was not a good woman either.
Now this “Imitation Foreign Devil” was approaching.
“Baldhead—Ass—” In the past Ah Q had cursed under his breath only, inaudibly; but today, because he was in a bad temper and wanted to work off his feelings, the words slipped out involuntarily.
Unfortunately this “baldhead” was carrying a shiny, brown stick which Ah Q called a “staff carried by the mourner.” With great strides he bore down on Ah Q who, guessing at once that a beating was impending, hastily braced himself to wait with a stiffened back. Sure enough, there was a resounding thwack which seemed to have alighted on his head.
“I meant him!” explained Ah Q, pointing to a nearby child.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
As far as Ah Q could remember, this was the second humiliation of his life. Fortunately after the thwacking stopped it seemed to him that the matter was closed, and he even felt somewhat relieved. Moreover, the precious “ability to forget” handed down by his ancestors stood him in good stead. He walked slowly away and by the time he approached the wine shop door he felt quite happy again.
Just then, however, a small nun from the Convent of Quiet Self-improvement came walking towards him. The sight of a nun always made Ah Q swear; how much more so, then, after these humiliations? When he recalled what had happened, all his anger revived.
“So all my bad luck today was because I had to see you!” he thought to himself.
He went up to her and spat noisily. “Ugh! . . . . Pah!”
The small nun paid not the least attention, but walked on with lowered head. Ah Q went up to her and shot out a hand to rub her newly shaved scalp, then laughing stupidly said, “Baldhead! Go back quickly, your monk is waiting for you. . . .”
“Who are you pawing? . . .” demanded the nun, blushing crimson as she began to hurry away.
The men in the wine shop roared with laughter. Seeing that his feat was admired, Ah Q began to feel elated.
“If the monk paws you, why can’t I?” said he, pinching her cheek.
Again the men in the wine shop roared with laughter. Ah Q felt even more pleased, and in order to satisfy those who were expressing approval, he pinched her hard again before letting her go.
During this encounter he had already forgotten Whiskers Wang and the Imitation Foreign Devil, as if all the day’s bad luck had been avenged. And, strange to relate, even more relaxed than after the beating, he felt light and buoyant as if ready to float into the air.
“Ah Q, may you die sonless!” sounded the little nun’s voice tearfully in the distance.
Ah Q roared with delighted laughter.
The men in the wine shop roared too, with only slightly less satisfaction.