Call to Arms Read online

  “May Buddha preserve us, Ah Q! How dare you climb into our garden to steal turnips!... Mercy on us, what a wicked thing to do! Aiya, Buddha preserve us!”

  “When did I ever climb into your garden and steal turnips?” retorted Ah Q as he started off, keeping his eyes on her.

  “Now—aren't you?” The old nun pointed at the bulge in his jacket.

  “Are these yours? Will they come when you call? You...”

  Leaving his sentence unfinished, Ah Q took to his heels as fast as he could, followed by a huge fat black dog. Originally this dog had been at the front gate, and how it reached the back garden was a mystery. With a snarl the black dog gave chase and was just about to bite Ah Q's leg when most opportunely a turnip fell from his jacket, and the dog, taken by surprise, stopped for a second. During this time Ah Q scrambled up the mulberry tree, scaled the mud wall, and fell, turnips and all, outside the convent. He left the black dog still barking by the mulberry tree, and the old nun saying her prayers.

  Fearing that the nun would let the black dog out again, Ah Q gathered together his turnips and ran, picking up a few small stones as he went. But the black dog did not reappear. Ah Q threw away the stones and walked on, eating as he went, thinking to himself, “There is nothing to be had here: better go to town...”

  By the time the third turnip was finished he had made up his mind to go to town.

  Chapter 6

  From Resurgence to Decline

  Weizhuang did not see Ah Q again till just after the Moon Festival that year. Everybody was surprised to hear of his return, and this made them think back and wonder where he had been all that time. In the past Ah Q had usually taken great pleasure in announcing his few visits to town; but since he had not done so this time, his going had passed unnoticed. He may have told the old man in charge of the Tutelary God's Temple, but according to the custom of Weizhuang only a trip to town counted as important. Even the Bogus Foreign Devil's going was not talked about, much less Ah Q's. This would explain why the old man had not spread the news for him, with the result that the villagers remained in the dark.

  Ah Q's return this time was very different from before, and in fact quite enough to occasion astonishment. The day was growing dark when he showed up, bleary-eyed, at the tavern door, walked up to the counter, and tossed down on it a handful of silver and coppers produced from his belt. “Cash!” he announced. “Bring the wine!” He was wearing a new lined jacket and at his waist hung a large purse, the great weight of which caused his belt to sag in a sharp curve.

  It was the custom in Weizhuang that anyone in any way unusual should be treated with respect rather than disregarded, and now, although they knew quite well that this was Ah Q, still he was very different from the Ah Q of the ragged coat. The ancients say, “A scholar who has been away three days must be looked at with new eyes.” So the waiter, tavern-keeper, customers and passers-by all quite naturally expressed a kind of suspicion mingled with respect. The tavern-keeper started off by nodding, following this up with the words:

  “So you're back, Ah Q!”

  “Yes, I'm back.”

  “Made a pretty packet, eh?... where...?”

  “I've been in town.”

  By the next day this piece of news had spread through Weizhuang. And since everybody wanted to hear the success story of this Ah Q of the ready money and the new lined jacket, in the tavern, teahouse, and under the temple eaves, the villagers gradually ferreted out the news. The result was that they began to treat Ah Q with a new deference.

  According to Ah Q, he had been a servant in the house of a successful provincial candidate. This part of the story filled all who heard it with awe. This successful provincial candidate was named Bai, but because he was the only successful provincial candidate in the whole town there was no need to use his surname: whenever anyone spoke of the successful provincial candidate, it meant him. And this was so not only in Weizhuang, for almost everyone within a radius of a hundred li imagined his name to be Mr. Successful Provincial Candidate. To have worked in the household of such a man naturally called for respect; but according to Ah Q's further statements, he was unwilling to go on working there because this successful candidate was really too much of a “turtle's egg.” This part of the story made all who heard it sigh, but with a sense of pleasure, because it showed that Ah Q was unworthy to work in the household of such a man, yet not to work there was a pity.

  According to Ah Q, his return was also due to his dissatisfaction with the townspeople because they called a long bench a straight bench, used shredded shallots to fry fish, and—a defect he had recently discovered—the women did not sway in a very satisfactory manner as they walked. However, the town had its good points too; for instance, in Weizhuang everyone played with thirty-two bamboo counters and only the Bogus Foreign Devil could play mahjong, but in town even the street urchins excelled at mahjong. You had only to place the Bogus Foreign Devil in the hands of these young rascals in their teens for him straightway to become like “a small devil before the King of Hell.” This part of the story made all who heard it blush.

  “Have you seen an execution?” asked Ah Q. “Ah, that's a fine sight....When they execute the revolutionaries.... Ah, that's a fine sight, a fine sight....” He shook his head, sending his spittle flying on to the face of Zhao Sichen who was standing opposite him. This part of the story made all who heard it tremble. Then with a glance around, he suddenly raised his right hand and dropped it on the neck of Whiskers Wang who, craning forward, was listening with rapt attention.

  “Off with his head!” shouted Ah Q.

  Whiskers Wang gave a start, and jerked back his head as fast as lightning or a spark struck from a flint, while the bystanders shivered with pleasurable apprehension. After his, Whiskers Wang went about in a daze for many days and dared not go near Ah Q, nor did the others.

  Although we cannot say that in the eyes of the inhabitants of Weizhuang Ah Q's status at this time was superior to that of Mr. Zhao, we can at least affirm without any danger of inaccuracy that it was approximately equivalent.

  Not long after, Ah Q's fame suddenly spread into the women's apartments of Weizhuang too. Although the only two families of any pretensions in Weizhuang were those of Qian and Zhao, and nine-tenths of the rest were poor, still women's apartments are women's apartments, and the way Ah Q's fame spread into them was quite miraculous. When the womenfolk met they would say to each other, “Mrs. Zou bought a blue silk skirt from Ah Q. Although it was old, it only cost ninety cents. And Zhao Baiyan's mother (this has yet to be verified, because some say it was Zhao Sichen's mother) bought a child's costume of crimson foreign calico which was nearly new for only three hundred cash, less eight per cent discount.”

  Then those who had no silk skirt or needed foreign calico were most anxious to see Ah Q in order to buy from him. Far from avoiding him now, they sometimes followed him when he passed, calling to him to stop.

  “Ah Q, have you any more silk skirts?” they would ask. “No? We want foreign calico too. Do you have any?”

  This news later spread from the poor households to the rich ones, because Mrs. Zou was so pleased with her silk skirt that she took it to Mrs. Zhao for her approval, and Mrs. Zhao told Mr. Zhao, speaking very highly of it.

  Mr. Zhao discussed the matter that evening at dinner with his son the successful county candidate, suggesting that there was certainly something strange about Ah Q and that they should be more careful about their doors and windows. They did not know, though, what if anything Ah Q had left—he might still have something good. Since Mrs. Zhao happened to want a good cheap fur jacket, after a family council it was decided to ask Mrs. Zou to find Ah Q for them at once. For this a third exception was made to the rule, special permission being given that evening for a lamp to be lit.

  A considerable amount of oil had been burned, but still there was no sign of Ah Q. The whole Zhao household was yawning with impatience, some of them resenting Ah Q's casualness, others blaming Mrs. Zou
for not making a greater effort. Mrs. Zhao was afraid that Ah Q dared not come because of the terms agreed upon that spring, but Mr. Zhao did not think this anything to worry about because, as he said, “This time I sent for him.” Sure enough, Mr. Zhao proved himself a man of insight, for Ah Q finally arrived with Mrs. Zou.

  “He keeps saying he has nothing left,” panted Mrs. Zou as she came in. “When I told him to come and tell you so himself he kept talking back. I told him...”

  “Sir!” cried Ah Q with an attempt at a smile, coming to a halt under the eaves.

  “I hear you did well for yourself in town, Ah Q,” said Mr. Zhao, going up to him and looking him over carefully. “Very good. Now...they say you have some old things.... Bring them all here for us to look at. This is simply because I happen to want...”

  “I told Mrs. Zou—there's nothing left.”

  “Nothing left?” Mr. Zhao could not help sounding disappointed. “How could they go so quickly?”

  “They belonged to a friend, and there wasn't much to begin with. People bought some....”

  “There must be something left.”

  “Only a door curtain.”

  “Then bring the door curtain for us to see,” said Mrs. Zhao hurriedly.

  “Well, tomorrow will do,” said Mr. Zhao without much enthusiasm. “When you have anything in future, Ah Q, you must bring it to us first ...”

  “We certainly won't pay less than other people!” said the successful county candidate. His wife shot a hasty glance at Ah Q to see his reaction.

  “I need a fur jacket,” said Mrs. Zhao.

  Although Ah Q agreed, he slouched out so carelessly that they did not know whether he had taken their instructions to heart or not. This so disappointed, annoyed and worried Mr. Zhao that he even stopped yawning. The successful candidate was also far from satisfied with Ah Q's attitude. “People should be on their guard against such a turtle's egg,” he said. “It might be best to order the bailiff to forbid him to live in Weizhuang.”

  Mr. Zhao did not agree, saying that then Ah Q might bear a grudge, and that in a business like this it was probably a case of “the eagle does not prey on its own nest”: his own village need not worry so long as they were a little more watchful at night. The successful candidate, much impressed by this parental instruction, immediately withdrew his proposal for banishing Ah Q but cautioned Mrs. Zou on no account to repeat what had been said.

  The next day, however, when Mrs. Zou took her blue skirt to be dyed black she repeated these insinuations about Ah Q, although not actually mentioning what the successful candidate had said about driving him away. Even so, it was most damaging to Ah Q. In the first place, the bailiff appeared at his door and took away the door curtain. Although Ah Q protested that Mrs. Zhao wanted to see it, the bailiff would not give it back and even demanded monthly hush money. In the second place, the villagers' respect for Ah Q suddenly changed. Although they still dared not take liberties, from their previous fear of his “Off with his head!” it closely resembled the attitude of the ancients to spirits: they kept a respectful distance.

  Some idlers who wanted to get to the bottom of the business went to question Ah Q carefully. And with no attempt at concealment Ah Q told them proudly of his experiences. They learned that he had merely been a petty thief, not only unable to climb walls but even unable to go through openings: he simply stood outside an opening to receive the stolen goods.

  One night he had just received a package and his chief had gone in again, when he heard a great uproar inside and took to his heels as fast as he could. He fled from the town that same night, back to Weizhuang; and after this he dared not return to do any more thieving. This story, however, was even more damaging to Ah Q, since the villagers had been keeping a respectful distance because they did not want to incur his enmity; for who could have guessed that he was only a thief who dared not steal again? Now they knew he was really too low to inspire fear.

  Chapter 7

  The Revolution

  On the fourteenth day of the ninth moon of the third year in the reign of Emperor Xuan Tong—the day on which Ah Q sold his purse to Zhao Baiyan—at midnight, after the fourth stroke of the third watch, a large boat with a big black awning arrived at the Zhao family's landing-place. This boat floated up in the darkness while the villagers were sound asleep, so that they knew nothing about it; but it left again about dawn, when quite a number of people saw it. Investigation revealed that this boat actually belonged to the successful provincial candidate!

  This incident caused great uneasiness in Weizhuang, and before midday the hearts of all the villagers were beating faster. The Zhao family kept very quiet about the errand of the boat, but according to gossip in the teahouse and tavern, the revolutionaries were going to enter the town and the successful provincial candidate had come to the country to take refuge. Mrs. Zou alone thought otherwise, maintaining that the successful candidate merely wanted to deposit a few battered cases in Weizhuang, but that Mrs. Zhao had sent them back. Actually the successful provincial candidate and the successful county candidate in the Zhao family were not on good terms, to that it was scarcely logical to expect them to prove friends in adversity; moreover, since Mrs. Zou was a neighbour of the Zhao family and had a better idea of what was going on, she ought to have known.

  Then a rumour spread to the effect that although the scholar had not come in person, he had sent a long letter tracing some distant relationship with the Zhao family; and since Mr. Zhao after thinking it over had decided it could after all do him no harm to keep the cases, they were now stowed under his wife's bed. As for the revolutionaries, some people said they had entered the town that night in white helmets and white armour—in-mourning for Emperor Chong Zhen.

  Ah Q had long since known of revolutionaries and this year with his own eyes had seen revolutionaries decapitated. But since it had occurred to him that the revolutionaries were rebels and that a rebellion would make things difficult for him, he had always detested and kept away from them. Who could have guessed that they could strike such fear into a successful provincial candidate renowned for a hundred li around? In consequence, Ah Q could not help feeling rather fascinated, the terror of all the villagers only adding to his delight.

  “Revolution is not a bad thing,” thought Ah Q. “Finish off the whole lot of them... curse them!... I'd like to go over to the revolutionaries myself. ”

  Ah Q had been hard up recently, which no doubt made him rather dissatisfied; moreover he had drunk two bowls of wine at noon on an empty stomach. Consequently he became drunk very quickly; and as he walked along thinking to himself, he seemed again to be treading on air. Suddenly, in some curious way, he felt as if he were a revolutionary and all the people in Weizhuang were his captives. Unable to contain himself for joy, he shouted at the top of his voice:

  “Rebellion! Rebellion!”

  All the villagers stared at him in consternation. Ah Q had never seen such pitiful looks before; they refreshed him as much as a drink of iced water in summer. So he walked on even more happily, shouting:

  “Fine!... I shall take what I want! I shall like whom I please!

  “Tra la tra la! Alas, in my cups I have slain my sworn brother Zheng.

  Alas, ya-ya-ya...

  “Tra la, tra la, tum ti tum tum!

  Steel mace in hand I shall trounce you.”

  Mr. Zhao and his son were standing at their gate with two relatives discussing the revolution. Ah Q did not see them as he passed with his head thrown back, singing, “Tra la la, tum ti tum!”

  “Q, old fellow!” called Mr. Zhao timidly in a low voice.

  “Tra la,” sang Ah Q, unable to imagine that his name could be linked with those words “old fellow.” Sure that he had heard wrongly and was in no way concerned, he simply went on singing, “Tra la la, tum ti tum!”

  “Q, old fellow!”

  “Alas, in my cups...”

  “Ah, Q!” The successful candidate had no choice but to name him outright.<
br />
  Only then did Ah Q come to a stop. “Well?” he asked with his head on one side.

  “Q, old fellow... now...” But Mr. Zhao was at a loss for words again. “Are you well off now?”

  “Ah Q, old man, poor friends of yours like us are of no consequence ...” faltered Zhao Baiyan, as if sounding out the revolutionaries' attitude.

  “Poor friends? You're richer anyway than I am.” With this Ah Q walked away.

  This left them in speechless dismay. Back home that evening Mr. Zhao and his son discussed the question until it was time to light the lamps. And Zhao Baiyan once home took the purse from his waist and gave it to his wife to hide for him at the bottom of a chest.

  For a while Ah Q walked up on air, but by the time he reached the Tutelary God's Temple he had come down to earth again. That evening the old man in charge of the temple was also unexpectedly friendly and offered him tea. Then Ah Q asked him for two flat cakes, and after eating these damanded a four-ounce candle that had been lighted once and a candlestick. He lit the candle and lay down alone in his little room feeling inexpressibly refreshed and happy, while the candlelight leaped and flickered as if this were the Lantern Festival and his imagination soared with it.

  “Revolt? It would be fun.... A troop of revolutionaries would come, all in white helmets and white armour, with swords, steel maces, bombs, foreign guns, sharp-pointed double-edged knives, and spears with hooks. When they passed this temple they would call out, ‘Ah Q! Come along with us!’And then I would go with them....