Call to Arms Page 11

  “Then the fun would start. All the villagers, the whole lousy lot, would kneel down and plead, ‘Ah Q! Spare us!’But who would listen to them! The first to die would be Young D and Mr. Zhao, then the successful county candidate and the Bogus Foreign Devil.... But perhaps I would spare a few. I would once have spared Whiskers Wang, but now I don't even want him....

  “Things... I would go straight in and open the cases: silver ingots, foreign coins, foreign calico jackets.... First I would move the Ningbo bed of the successful county candidate's wife to the temple, as well as the Qian family tables and chairs—or else just use the Zhao family's. I wouldn't lift a finger myself, but order Young D to move the things for me, and to look smart about it if he didn't want his face slapped ...

  “Zhao Sichen's younger sister is very ugly. In a few years Mrs. Zou's daughter might be worth considering. The Bogus Foreign Devil's wife is willing to sleep with a man without a queue, hah! She can't be a good woman! The successful county candidate's wife has scars on her eyelids.... I haven't seen Amah Wu for a long time and don't know where she is—what a pity her feet are so big.”

  Before Ah Q had reached a satisfactory conclusion, there was a sound of snoring. The four-ounce candle had burned down only half an inch, and its flickering red light lit up his open mouth.

  “Ho, ho!” Shouted Ah Q suddenly, raising his head and looking wildly around. But at sight of the four-ounce candle, he lay back and fell asleep again.

  The next morning he got up very late, and when he went out into the street everything was the same as usual. He was still hungry, but though he racked his brains he did not seem able to think of anything. All of a sudden, however, an idea struck him and he walked slowly off until, either by design or accident, he reached the Convent of Quiet Self-improvement.

  The convent was as peaceful as it had been that spring, with its white wall and shining black gate. After a moment's reflection he knocked at the gate, whereupon a dog on the other side started barking. He hastily picked up some broken bricks, then went back again to knock more heavily, knocking until the black gate was pitted with pock-marks. At last he heard someone coming to open up.

  Clutching a brick, Ah Q straddled there prepared to do battle with the black dog. The convent gate opened a crack, but no black dog rushed out. When he looked in all he could see was the old nun.

  “What are you here for again?” she asked with a start.

  “There's a revolution... didn't you know?” said Ah Q vaguely.

  “Revolution, revolution... we've already had one.” The old nun's eyes were red. “What more do you want to do to us?”

  “What?” demanded Ah Q, dumbfounded.

  “Didn't you know? The revolutionaries have already been here!”

  “Who?” demanded Ah Q, still more dumbfounded.

  “The successful county candidate and the Foreign Devil.”

  This completely took the wind out of Ah Q's sails. When the old nun saw there was no fight left in him she promptly shut the gate, so that when Ah Q pushed it again he could not budge it, and when he knocked again there was no answer.

  It had happened that morning. The successful county candidate in the Zhao family was quick to learn the news. As soon as he heard that the revolutionaries had entered the town that night, he wound his queue up on his head and went out first thing to call on the Bogus Foreign Devil in the Qian family, with whom he had never been on very good terms. Because this was a time for all to work for reforms, they had a most satisfactory talk and on the spot became comrades who saw eye to eye and pledged themselves to make revolution.

  After racking their brains for some time, they remembered that in the Convent of Quiet Self-improvement there was an imperial tablet inscribed “Long Live the Emperor” which ought to be done away with immediately. Thereupon they lost no time in going to the convent to carry out their revolutionary activities. Because the old nun tried to stop them and passed a few remarks, they considered her as the Qing government and gave her quite a few knocks on the head with a stick and with their knuckles. The nun, pulling herself together after they had been smashed into fragments on the ground and the valuable Xuan De censer before the shrine of Guanyin, the goddess of mercy, had also disappeared.

  Ah Q only learned this later. He deeply regretted having been asleep at the time, and resented the fact and they had not come to call him. Then he said to himself, “Maybe they still don't know I have joined the revolutionaries.”

  Chapter 8

  Barred from the Revolution

  The people of Weizhuang felt easier in their minds with each passing day. From the news brought they knew that although the revolutionaries had entered the town their coming had not made a great deal of difference, the magistrate was still the highest official, it was only his title that had changed; and the successful provincial candidate also had some post—the Weizhuang villagers could not remember these clearly—some kind of official post; while the head of the military was still the same old captain. The only cause for alarm was that, the day after their arrival, some bad revolutionaries made trouble by cutting off people's queues. It was said that the boatman Sevenpounder from the next village had fallen into their clutches, and that he no longer looked presentable. Still, the danger of this was not great, because the Weizhuang villagers seldom went to town to begin with, and those who had been considering a trip there at once changed their minds in order to avoid this risk. Ah Q had been thinking of going to town to look up his old friends, but as soon as he heard the news he gave up the idea.

  It would be wrong, however, to say that there were no reforms in Weizhuang. During the next few days the number of people who coiled their queues on their heads gradually increased and, as has already been said, the first to do so was naturally the successful county candidate; the next were Zhao Sichen and Zhao Baiyan, and after them Ah Q. If it had been summer it would not have been considered strange if everybody had coiled their queues on their heads or tied them in knots; but this was late autumn, so that this autumn observance of a summer practice of the part of those who coiled their queues could be considered nothing short of a heroic decision, and as far as Weizhuang was concerned it would not be said to have had no connection with the reforms.

  When Zhao Sichen approached with the nape of his neck bare, people who saw him remarked, “Ah! Here comes a revolutionary!”

  When Ah Q heard this he was greatly impressed. Although he had long since heard how the successful county candidate had coiled his queue on his head, it had never occurred to him to do the same. Only now when he saw that Zhao Sichen had followed suit was he struck with the idea of doing the same himself. He made up his mind to copy them. He used a bamboo chopstick to twist his queue up on his head, and after some hesitation eventually summoned up the courage to go out.

  As he walked along the street people looked at him, but without any comment. Ah Q, disgruntled at first, soon waxed indignant. Recently he had been losing his temper, very easily. As a matter of fact he was no worse off than before the revolution, people treated him politely, and the shops no longer demanded payment in cash, yet Ah Q still felt dissatisfied. A revolution, he thought, should mean more than this. When he saw Young D, his anger boiled over.

  Young D, had also coiled his queue up on his head and, what was more, had actually used a bamboo chopstick to do so too. Ah Q had never imagined that Young D would also have the courage to do this; he certainly could not tolerate such a thing! Who was Young D anyway? He was greatly tempted to seize him then and there, break his bamboo chopstick, let down his queue and slap his face several times into the bargain to punish him for forgetting his place and for his presumption in becoming a revolutionary. But in the end he let him off, simply fixing him with a furious glare, spitting, and exclaiming, “Pah!”

  These last few days the only one to go to town was the Bogus Foreign Devil. The successful county candidate in the Zhao family had thought of using the deposited cases as a pretext to call on the successful provinc
ial candidate, but the danger that he might have his queue cut off had made him defer his visit. He had written an extremely formal letter, and asked the Bogus Foreign Devil to take it to town; he had also asked the latter to introduce him to the Freedom Party. When the Bogus Foreign Devil came back he collected four dollars from the successful county candidate, after which the latter wore a silver peach on his chest. All the Weizhuang villagers were overawed, and said that this was the badge of the Persimmon Oil Party, equivalent of the rank of a Han Lin. As a result, Mr. Zhao's prestige suddenly increased, far more so in fact than when his son first passed the official examination; consequently he started looking down on everyone else and when he saw Ah Q he tended to ignore him a little.

  Ah Q, disgruntled at finding himself cold-shoudered all the time, realized as soon as he heard of this silver peach why he was left out in the cold. Simply to say that you had gone over was not enough to make anyone a revolutionary; nor was it enough merely to wind your queue up on your head; the most important thing was to get into touch with the revolutionary party. In all his life he had known only two revolutionaries, one of whom had already lost his head in town, leaving only the things over with the Bogus Foreign Devil.

  The front gate of the Qian house happened to be open, and Ah Q crept timidly in. Once inside he gave a start, for there was the Bogus Foreign Devil standing in the middle of the courtyard dressed entirely in black, no doubt in foreign dress, and also wearing a silver peach. In his hand he held the stick with which Ah Q was already acquainted to his cost, while the footlong queue which he had grown again had been combed out a hang loosely over his shoulders, giving him a resemblance to the immortal Liu Hai. Standing respectfully before him were Zhao Baiyan and three others, all of them listening with the utmost deference to what the Bogus Foreign Devil was saying.

  Ah Q tiptoed inside and stood behind Zhao Baiyan, eager to pronounce some greeting, but not knowing what to say. Obviously he could not call the man “Bogus Foreign Devil, ” and neither “Foreigner” nor “Revolutionary” seemed quite the thing. Perhaps the best form of address would be “Mr. Foreigner.”

  “I am so impetuous that when we met I kept urging, ‘Old Hong, let's get down to business! ’ But he always answerd a ‘Nein!’—that's a foreign word which you wouldn’t understand. Otherwise we should have succeeded long ago. This just goes to show how cautious he is. Time and again he asked me to go to Hubei, but I've not yet agreed. Who wants to work in a small district town?...”

  “Er—well—” Ah Q waited for him to pause, then screwed up his courage to speak. But for some reason or other he still did not call him Mr. Foreigner.

  The four men who had been listening gave a start and turned to stare at Ah Q. Mr. Foreigner too caught sight of him for the first time.

  “What is it?”

  “I...”

  “Clear out!”

  “I want to join...”

  “Get out!” Mr. Foreigner raised the “mourner's stick.”

  Thereupon Zhao Baiyan and the others shouted, “Mr. Qian tells you to get out, don't you hear!”

  Ah Q put up his hands to protect his head, and without knowing what he was doing fled through the gate; but this time Mr. Foreigner did not give chase. After running more than sixty steps Ah Q slowed down, and now his heart filled with dismay, because if Mr. Foreigner would not allow him to be a revolutionary, there was no other way open to him. In future he could never hope to have men in white helmets and white armour come to call him. All his ambitions, aims, hope and future had been blasted at one fell swoop. The fact that gossips might spread the news and make him a laughing-stock for the likes of Young D and Whiskers Wang was only a secondary consideration.

  Never before had he felt so flat. Even coiling his queue on his head now struck him as pointless and ridiculous. As a form of revenge he was very tempted to let his queue down at once, but he did not do so. He wandered about till evening, when after drinking two bowls of wine on credit he began to feel in better spirits, and in his mind's eye saw fragmentary visions of white helmets and white armour once more.

  One day he loafed about until late at night. Only when the tavern was about to close did he start to stroll back to the Tutelary God's Temple.

  Crash-bang!

  He suddenly heard an unusual sound, which could not have been firecrackers. Ah Q, always fond of excitement and of poking his nose into other people's business, headed straight for the noise in the darkness. He thought he heard footsteps ahead, and was listening carefully when a man fled past from the opposite direction. Ah Q instantly wheeled round to follow him. When that man turned, Ah Q turned too, and when having turned a corner that man stopped, Ah Q followed suit. He saw that there was no one after them and that the man was Young D.

  “What's up?” demanded Ah Q resentfully.

  “The Zhao... Zhao family has been robbed,” panted Young D.

  Ah Q's heart went pit-a-pat. After saying this, Young D went off. But Ah Q kept on running by fits and starts. However, having been in the business himself made him unusually bold. Rounding the corner of a lane, he listened carefully and thought he heard shouting; while by straining his eyes he thought he could see a troop of men in white helmets and white armour carrying off cases, carrying off furniture, even carrying off the Ningbo bed of the successful county candidate's wife. He could not, however, see them very clearly. He wanted to go nearer, but his feet were rooted to the ground.

  There was no moon that night, and Weizhuang was very still in the pitch darkness, as quiet as in the peaceful days of Emperor Fu Xi. Ah Q stood there until his patience ran out, yet there seemed no end to the business, distant figures kept moving to and fro, carrying off cases, carrying off furniture, carrying off the Ningbo bed of the successful county candidate's wife... carrying until he could hardly believe his own eyes. But he decided not to go any closer, and went back to the temple.

  It was even darker in the Tutelary God's Temple. When he had closed the big gate he groped his way into his room, and only after he had been lying down for some time did he calm down sufficiently to begin thinking how this affected him. The men in white helmets and white armour had evidently arrived, but they had not come to call him; they had taken away fine things, but there was no share for him—this was all the fault of the Bogus Foreign Devil, who had barred him from the rebellion. Otherwise how could he have failed to have a share this time?

  The more Ah Q thought of it the angrier he grew, until he was in a towering rage. “So no rebellion for me, only for you, eh?” he fumed, nodding furiously. “Curse you, you Bogus Foreign Devil—all right, be a rebel! That's a crime for which you get your head choppd off. I'll turn informer, then see you dragged off to town to have your head cut off—your whole family executed.... To hell with you!”

  Chapter 9

  The Grand Finale

  After the Zhao family was robbed most of the people in Weizhuang felt pleased yet fearful, and Ah Q was no exception. But four days later Ah Q was suddenly dragged into town in the middle of the night. It happened to be a dark night. A squad of soldiers, a squad of militia, a squad of police, and five secret servicemen made their way quietly to Weizhuang and, after posting a machine-gun opposite the entrance, under cover of darkness surrounded the Tutelary God's Temple. But Ah Q did not bolt for it. For a long time nothing stirred till the captain, losing patience, offered a reward of twenty thousand cash. Only then did two militiamen summon up courage to jump over the wall and enter. With their co-operation, the others rushed in and dragged Ah Q out. But not until he had been carried out of the temple to somewhere near the machine-gun did he begin to wake up to what was happening.

  It was already midday by the time they reached town, and Ah Q found himself carried to a dilapidated yamen where, after taking five or six turnings, he was pushed into a small room. No sooner had he stumbled inside than the door, in the form of a wooden grille, was slammed on his heels. The rest of the cell consisted of three blank walls, and when he looked carefully h
e saw two other men in a corner.

  Although Ah Q was feeling rather uneasy, he was by no means depressed, because the room where he slept in the Tutelary God's Temple was in no way superior to this. The two other men also seemed to be villagers. They gradually fell into conversation with him, and one of them told him that the successful provincial candidate wanted to dun him for the rent owed by his grandfather; the other did not know why he was there. When they questioned Ah Q he answered quite frankly, “Because I wanted to revolt.”

  That afternoon he was dragged out through the grille and taken to a big hall, at the far end of which sat an old man with a cleanly shaven head. Ah Q took him for a monk at first, but when he saw soldiers standing guard and a dozen men in long coats on both sides, some with their heads clean-shaven like this old man and some with a foot or so of hair hanging over their shoulders like the Bogus Foreign Devil, all glaring furiously at him with grim faces, he knew that this man must be someone important. At once his knee-joints relaxed of their own accord, and he sank to his knees.

  “Stand up to speak! Don't kneel!” shouted all the men in the long coats.

  Although Ah Q understood, he felt quite incapable of standing up. He had involuntarily started squatting, improving on this finally to kneel down.

  “Slave!” exclaimed the long-coated men contemptuously. They did not insist on his getting up, however.

  “Tell the truth and you will receive a lighter sentence,” said the old man with the shaven head in a low but clear voice, fixing his eyes on Ah Q. “We know everything already. When you have confessed, we will let you go.”

  “Confess!” repeated the long-coated men loudly.

  “The fact is I wanted... to join...” muttered Ah Q disjointedly after a moment's confused thinking.

  “In that case, why didn't you?” asked the old man gently.