阿Q正传

我要给阿Ｑ做正传﹐已经不止一两年了。但一面要做﹐一面又往回想﹐这足见我不是一个〈立言〉〔２〕的人﹐因为从来不朽之笔﹐须传不朽之人﹐于是人以文传﹐文以人传──究竟谁靠谁传﹐渐渐的不甚了然起来﹐而终于归结到传阿Ｑ﹐仿佛思想里有鬼似的。

然而要做这一篇速朽的文章﹐才下笔﹐便感到万分的困难了。第一是文章的名目。孔子曰：“名不正则言不顺”〔３〕。这原是应该极注意的。传的名目很繁多 ﹕列传﹐自传﹐内传〔４〕﹐外传﹐别传﹐家传﹐小传……﹐而可惜都不合。〈列传〉么﹐这一篇并非和许多阔人排在〈正史〉〔５〕里﹔〈自传〉么﹐我又并非就是阿Ｑ。说是〈外传〉﹐〈内传〉在那里呢﹖倘用〈内传〉﹐阿Ｑ又决不是神仙。〈别传〉呢﹐阿Ｑ实在未曾有大总统上谕宣付国史馆立〈本传〉〔６〕──虽说英国正史上并无〈博徒列传〉﹐ 而文豪迭更司〔７〕也做过《博徒别传》这一部书﹐但文豪则可﹐在我辈却不可的。其次是〈家传〉﹐则我既不知与阿Ｑ是否同宗﹐也未曾受他子孙的拜托﹔或〈小传〉﹐则阿Ｑ又更无别的〈大传〉了。总而言之﹐这一篇也便是〈本传〉﹐但从我的文章著想﹐因为文体卑下﹐是“引车卖浆者流”所用的话〔８〕﹐所以不敢僭称 ﹐便从不入三教九流的小说家〔９〕所谓“闲话休题言归正传”这一句套话里﹐取出〈正传〉两个字来﹐作为名目﹐即使与古人所撰《书法正传》〔１０〕的〈正传〉字面上很相混﹐也顾不得了。

第二﹐立传的通例﹐开首大抵该是“某﹐字某﹐某地人也”﹐而我并不知道阿Ｑ姓什么。有一回﹐他似乎是姓赵﹐但第二日便模糊了。那是赵太爷的儿子进了秀才的时候﹐锣声镗镗的报到村里来﹐阿Ｑ正喝了两碗黄酒﹐便手舞足蹈的说﹐这于他也很光采﹐因为他和赵太爷原来是本家﹐细细的排起来他还比秀才长三辈呢。其时几个旁听人倒也肃然的有些起敬了。那知道第二天﹐地保便叫阿Ｑ到赵太爷家里去﹔太爷一见﹐满脸溅朱﹐喝道﹕“阿Ｑ﹐你这浑小子﹗你说我是你的本家么﹖”

For more than a year or two now I have been meaning to write the true story of Ah Q. Yet while wanting to write it, I found myself thinking back the while, which shows plainly enough that I am not one to "establish words for posterity"〔２〕, since an immortal pen has always been required to record an immortal man; thus the man is transmitted through the writing and the writing through the man—until gradually it grew less and less clear to me who exactly depended on whom for transmission, and in the end it all came down to recording Ah Q, as if there were some ghost haunting my thoughts.

Yet no sooner had I taken up my pen to write this article—designed, I trust, for speedy oblivion—than I found myself beset with the greatest difficulties. The first was the question of the title. Confucius said, "If the name is not right, the words will not ring true"〔３〕—a matter that surely demands the utmost attention. Biographies go by many names: official lives, autobiographies, inner lives〔４〕, outer lives, supplementary lives, family lives, minor lives... and unfortunately not one of them fits. An official life? But this piece is not to stand in the "authentic histories"〔５〕 alongside the lives of so many eminent men. An autobiography? But I am not Ah Q. Were I to call it an outer life, where then would the inner life be? And were I to use inner life, Ah Q is certainly no immortal. As for a supplementary life, Ah Q was never honored with a decree from the President instructing the National Historical Bureau to compile his "standard life"〔６〕—though it is true that the authentic histories of England contain no "Lives of Gamblers," the great novelist Dickens〔７〕 did write a Supplementary Life of a Gambler; still, what a great writer may do is not permitted to the likes of me. Next comes the family life: I neither know whether Ah Q and I are of the same clan, nor have his children or grandchildren ever entrusted me with the task. Or a minor life? But then Ah Q has no other "greater life" besides. In short, this piece would itself be a "standard life"; yet considering the style of my writing, which is vulgar and base—being the speech "used by those who pull carts and sell bean-milk"〔８〕—I dare not presume to so lofty a name; so from the stock phrase of the novelists, who are not counted among the Three Religions and Nine Schools〔９〕—"Enough of this idle talk; let us return to the true story"—I have plucked out the two words "true story" to serve as the title; and if these are all too easily confused in wording with the "True Tradition" of that treatise on calligraphy written by the ancients〔１０〕, it cannot be helped.

Second, according to the usual convention for writing a biography, it should open with something like "So-and-so, courtesy name so-and-so, a native of such-and-such a place"—yet I do not know what Ah Q's surname was. On one occasion, it seemed he was surnamed Zhao, but by the next day even that had grown hazy. It was when Mr. Zhao's son passed the county examination and became a xiucai: the gongs clanged as the news was brought to the village, and Ah Q, who had just downed two bowls of yellow wine, declared with waving arms and stamping feet that this reflected glory on him as well, for he and Mr. Zhao were originally of the same clan—indeed, if one worked out the genealogy carefully, he ranked three generations above the xiucai. At that, several of the bystanders even began to feel a certain solemn respect for him. Who was to know that the very next day the bailiff would summon Ah Q to Mr. Zhao's house? At the sight of him, Mr. Zhao's face flushed crimson, and he thundered: "Ah Q, you wretched fool! Did you say I was your clansman?"