University of Florida

A Connotation of Culpability in The True Story of Ah Q:

Lu Xun’s Portrayal of the Gentry and Their Role in the Revolution of 1911

Ian Joshua Meyer

CHI 4935: Senior Thesis

Dr. Sean Macdonald

Fall 2015 - Spring 2016 of the early 20th century was arguably a tumultuous period of upheaval and reformation. Yet for all the chaos and disorder of the time, this was also a decisive and defining moment in modern Chinese history. The events that occurred in early 20th century China would give birth to the ideological and societal foundations of the modern Chinese nation as it exists today. Among these events there occurred a literary reformation that inspired and guided intellectual thought. This reformation was set against a backdrop of foreign influence and imperialism, as well as an internal systematic failure of China’s traditional government. This turning point, for both literature and the nation, gave rise to an author and a character that has remained in the minds of Chinese workers and intellectuals alike since they first appeared.

Lu Xun, the pen name of Zhou Shuren, was born in Zhejiang province in 1881 to a family in the midst of socioeconomic decline. After a series of trials and errors throughout his young adult life, including time spent studying to be a medical practitioner, Lu Xun eventually settled on writing as an occupation. He took it upon himself “to serve his country as a spiritual physician” (Hsia 1971: 46), attempting to cure the soul of the Chinese nation and its people rather than any particular physical body. He was a firm believer in the concept of wen yi zaidao

(文以载道), the notion of utilizing literature as a vehicle to bring enlightenment and reform. In the words of Lu Xun, “the most important thing, therefore, was to change their spirit; and since at the time I felt that literature was the best means to this end, I decided to promote a literary movement” (Denton 1996: 240).

The most direct expression of this sentiment can be found in the essay entitled “On the

Power of Mara Poetry,” written by Lu Xun just prior to the Revolution of 1911. In the piece, Lu

Xun proclaims the importance of literature as a tool for social change. “Mara” served as an archetypal demon character in Buddhist cosmology. As explained by Lu Xun, the term is

1 borrowed from India and was later used by Byron to signify “Satan.” The root of the term denotes “killing” or “causing death,” and as such it indicates a sense of battle. Thus, “Mara” poetry can be thought to signify a type of warrior poetry. The use of the term here by Lu Xun demonstrates the influence that Western intellectual and literary thought had on his conception of literature as a harbinger of rebellion and reform.

In the essay, Lu Xun critiques the deficiency in the utilization of literature for the purpose of social progress within China. He subsequently proclaims: “Therefore literature has at least as much utility for human life as do food, clothing, shelter, religion, and morality…Nurturing the human imagination is the task and the use of literature” (Denton 1996: 106). Here Lu Xun declares the essential nature of literature as it relates to mankind. He lists it among that which society, as well as each individual, holds as basic necessity. Literature, in this sense, is essential to the existence of mankind, and without it society could not begin to endeavor towards social progress. The emphasis is placed on the utility of literature, which is that of a “nurturing” role.

The employment of literature as a means to cultivate the minds of mankind, according to Lu Xun, is as much essential to life as the consumption of food as a means to replenish the body. This proclamation exhibits Lu Xun’s faith in the notion of wen yi zaidao. However, this understanding did not come to fruition for Lu Xun without reluctance. When asked to write his first piece for

New Youth, an influential leftist publication that would assume an important role in ushering cultural reforms, Lu Xun offered the now famous metaphor:

Suppose there were an iron room with no windows or doors, a room it would be virtually impossible to break out of. And suppose you had some people inside that room who were sound asleep. Before long they would suffocate. In other words, they would slip peacefully from a deep slumber into oblivion, spared the anguish of being conscious of their impending doom. Now let’s say that you came along and stirred up a big racket that awakened some of the lighter sleepers. In that case, they would go to a certain death fully conscious of what was going to happen to them. Would you say that you had done those

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people a favor? But since you had awakened some of them, you can’t say that they would have absolutely no hope of finding some way to break out. Though I was convinced to my own satisfaction that it wouldn’t be possible to break out, I still couldn’t dismiss hope entirely, for hope belongs to the future (Lu Xun 1990: 27). This sentiment flows as an undercurrent through Lu Xun’s work. The sense of pessimism and its subsequent employment as a productive entity is the engine which drives many of his narratives.

“For Lu Xun, the most realistic assessment of China’s future pointed toward nothing less than a sense of total hopelessness” (Lin 1985: 109). Yet this method could not be reconciled with everyone: “Critics have repeatedly noticed that Lu Xun’s most engaging works deal not with his reasoning about China’s fate but with the ‘dark side’ of his reasoning, not with the coherent social and epistemological systems in prospect or retrospect but with the ruptures of those systems” (Wang 1993: 176). This notion is often employed as a criticism against the work of Lu

Xun. Alluding to his medical background and quest to aid China as a “spiritual physician,” C.T.

Hsia writes: “In his best stories, however, he is content to probe the disease without prescribing a cure” (Hsia 1971: 46).

Lu Xun himself conceded to this aspect of his work, revealed in a letter written by Lu

Xun in 1925: “my works are too dark because I often feel that only ‘darkness and emptiness’ are

‘reality.’ I am determined, however, to launch a war of resistance in despair against them” (Lin

1985: 112). Though Lu Xun himself recognized the bleakness of his works, he continually vowed to resist such a reality and worked to better society. Lu Xun purposefully maintained a critical perspective of traditional Chinese values. “He remained overwhelmingly pessimistic about the future of China, because he saw no resources within the grasp of the Chinese people with which they could better themselves and overcome the tyranny of tradition” (Lin 1985: 112).

Many would describe this sentiment in accordance with nihilism, however it was this purpose that perpetuated “the idea that only a spiritual revolution rather than a political or economic one

3 could truly rescue China” (Hutchings 2001: 286). It was this notion of a deeper revolution that drove Lu Xun to produce arguably some of the most significant work of the modern period.

Despite reservations, Lu Xun can be said to have been a major writer of the period, contributing to the continuously evolving philosophies and ideas of the time.

The narratives produced by Lu Xun assisted in generating new conceptions of Chinese culture and society. One such narrative, The True Story of Ah Q (hereafter True Story), achieved international recognition upon its serialized publication from 1921 to 1922 under the name Ba

Ren. The narrative is divided into chapters, the first of which serves as an introductory chapter written by an unnamed narrator. The next four chapters are centered on Ah Q’s biological and psychological instincts, whereas the final four depict the character’s thrust into the chaos of the

1911 Revolution. The story recounts the journey of Ah Q, a member of China’s rural peasant class during the onset of the . Uneducated and unemployed, Ah Q makes his living through occasional work. The character is constantly harassed by those with greater social or physical stature, and he in turn attempts to harass anyone he deems weaker than himself.

Despite his constant defeat, Ah Q has taught himself to achieve “psychological victories”

(jingshen shang de shengli fa ).1 No matter the circumstance, the character is able to maintain an existence in a realm of psychological self-deception through a distorted adherence to Chinese cultural tropes. In doing so, Ah Q upholds an erroneous notion of self-superiority that is grounded in cultural concepts of proper behavior.

Through a series of misguided attempts to find himself a woman, Ah Q is forced to leave the village for a period of time. Having stayed in the nearby town, Ah Q is able to witness more tangible effects of the anti-Manchu revolution under way. Upon his return to the village, Ah Q begins to brag about what he had witnessed in such a manner as to suggest his own personal

1 Lyell translates the phrase as “psychological victories,” however Lovell translates it as “moral victory.”

4 involvement in the revolution. In doing so, Ah Q attempts to gain prestige while simultaneously frightening the village elites, whom he despises. He purports to be a revolutionary in an effort to bestow cultural capital on himself and exact revenge on those who mistreated him. Yet when the actual revolutionary forces finally enter the village, they collaborate with the village upper echelon. Together, the revolutionaries and the village elite prosecute Ah Q for the robbery of an upper class house, of which he had no part. Confounded and disoriented, Ah Q is forced to sign a confession while attempting to not lose face over his penmanship. On the way to his death, the character resolves in totality every aspect of his current situation, performing one last

“psychological victory.” Ah Q is subsequently executed before a wolf-like crowd of spectators, who are disappointed by the method of execution and lack of drama.

The Revolution of 1911, during which True Story is set, marked the beginning of the modern period in Chinese history. Failure by the to adequately reform in the face of a rapid global modernization led to discontent among the peasant and gentry alike: “The discontent of the privileged classes corresponded to the agitation among the lower classes”

(Chesneaux et al 1976 : 361). This growing discontent at all levels of society meant that an uprising was inevitable. As the central government weakened, however, “the growing autonomy of the provinces established the power of the local elites” (Chesneaux et al 1976: 377). Thus, when the revolution was over, the Manchu government was gone but the local elite still held power. With power and control in the hands of provincial gentry officials, the common citizens did not witness the social progress they had hoped for during the revolution. By developing the narrative against this revolutionary backdrop, Lu Xun attempted to demonstrate that the republican revolution accomplished essentially nothing. Ah Q’s failed battle therefore illuminated the failed battle which China had endured a decade earlier, the Revolution of 1911.

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“Lu Xun already had a latent sense of exasperation and pessimism well before the 1911 revolution. The failure of the revolution merely released it” (Lin 1985: 109). Thus, True Story exposed China’s ignorance toward the failure of the revolution, which had done nothing to improve the lives of the common citizen.

More importantly, however, the narrative illustrated the destructive role that the upper echelon of Chinese society had played in this failure: “In “Ah Q zhengzhuan” (The true story of

Ah Q), Lu Xun had already made clear his belief that the Revolution of 1911 had failed because it had not wrestled power from the ruling, people eating, gentry class” (Pusey 1998: 111). Upon examination of the narrative, it is evident that blame is implicitly placed upon the gentry for this failure, rather than the common citizens, or those who could better associate with the Ah Q character. The narrative illustrates the way in which “the gentry, the chief beneficiaries of the regionalization of power, defended their privileges at all costs” (Chesneaux et al 1976: 360). The story criticizes the bourgeois revolution, and this criticism can be understood through an analysis of the way in which Lu Xun portrayed the upper class. Examination of particular characters belonging to the gentry, and their interactions with Ah Q at several points throughout True Story, demonstrate an assignment of culpability for the revolution’s failure to usher in societal reform.

The first five chapters serve to demonstrate the way in which a disassociation between the gentry and the common citizen is cultivated through True Story, while the subsequent chapters illustrate the way in which this class partition is employed as a means to implicitly place fault onto the gentry for the failure of the revolution. The construction of this disassociation begins with the narrator’s introductory segment.

Lu Xun began the narrative with an introductory chapter written through the story’s unnamed narrator. The language and nuance of the chapter assumes an air of superiority over the

6 subsequent chapters. Early in the chapter the narrator references a Confucius quote when discussing his trouble with deciding on a title for his work: “As Confucius says: ‘If a name is not right, the words will not ring true’ Wise words indeed” (Lu Xun 2009: 79). The employment of a

Confucian idiom illustrates the narrator’s education in traditional Chinese culture as well as his familiarity with ancient literature. Later in the chapter, however, the narrator discusses his decision to transcribe the protagonist’s name using an English character: “All of which leaves me no choice but to transcribe the mysterious Quei into the English alphabet, abbreviating it for convenience’s sake, to Q: Ah-Q…For this I am heartily ashamed of myself” (Lu Xun 2009: 82).

Though the narrator states that he is “heartily ashamed” of himself for doing so, this decision illustrates an awareness of the modern circumstances under which he is writing. Therefore, the simultaneous familiarity with Confucian text and Western alphabet shows that the narrator is well-educated on traditional Chinese culture as well as informed on modern development and progression. The unnamed narrator can thus safely be presumed to be a member of upper class

Chinese society.

This preeminence in status allows the narrator to discuss the protagonist in a way that portrays Ah Q as a subject who is beneath him: “The narrator’s criticism of Ah Q and condescension, sympathy, and even ambivalence towards him are conditioned by his elevated status as a writer and by his exclusive access to knowledge” (Liu 1995: 75). The portrayal of the narrator as a well-educated and well-spoken individual immediately creates a partition between him and the downtrodden character he is depicting. Extracted from this partition is a more general discernment between Ah Q and the upper class. Therefore, the development of the narrator as an individual superior to Ah Q in social status and education becomes the means by

7 which a disassociation between the protagonist and the general upper class of Chinese society is initially cultivated.

This disassociation is reinforced by the subtle tension detectable in the interactions between narrator and protagonist. Throughout the first chapter, the narrator furthers this disassociation through the continual use of distancing language and phrasing. Early in the chapter, when discussing the genre of the work that is to follow, the narrator proclaims: “What place could the life of the miserable Ah-Q have next to the glorious, official biographies of the rich and famous installed in our hallowed court histories? Autobiography? I am, incontrovertibly, not Ah-Q” (Lu Xun 2009: 79). The narrator states plainly that he is beyond a doubt not the lowly character he is depicting. Having demonstrated that the narrator is presumably a member of the upper class, it is evident that this distinct differentiation between the narrator and the protagonist serves as the means by which Ah Q is further differentiated from the gentry. The distinction between the “glorious” scholar-class of ancient Chinese culture, which were equivalent to a gentry class at the time, and the “miserable” Ah Q serves as the first, bold proclamation of disassociation between the upper class and the protagonist. The tone and blatant nature of this comment serve to concretely distinguish Ah Q, and those who resemble him, from the educated, affluent type who more closely resembles the narrator.

This discerning language continues later in the first chapter. Pondering over the logistics of writing about such a character, the narrator writes: “This effort of mine, I can only conclude is the standard, official biography of the man; and yet the debased vulgarity of its content and characters causes me to shy, appalled, from such a presumption” (Lu Xun 2009: 80). Here the narrator initially decides on a genre for his work, “official biography.” However, such a genre is typically associated with ancient literature, particularly relating to Confucianism, and as such it

8 is rooted in traditional Confucian values. Thus, the presumption to frame this work in a way that calls to mind the ancient works, which the narrator holds in such esteem, elicits a sense of repulsion and embarrassment for the narrator. To place the appalling protagonist at the center of an official biography, and in doing so connecting Ah Q to those noble characters depicted in comparable works of ancient literature, gives pause to its elitist narrator. This is yet another instance which exhibits the disassociation between Ah Q and the gentry that is created by the narrator in the first chapter.

Throughout the introduction the narrator is positioning himself as Ah Q’s counterpart on the socioeconomic spectrum of society. This presentation of the narrator as Ah Q’s opposite

“signals the vast chasm existing between them as members of two different classes” (Liu 1995:

75). In order to understand the way in which this positioning turns readers against the gentry class, however, one must first consider the way in which readers associate with the Ah Q character. In his portrayal of Ah Q, Lu Xun created a critical representation which characterized both the common Chinese citizen as well as the Chinese nation. This is possibly demonstrated by the subsequent popularity of the story, which “suggests that readers recognized the protagonist

Ah Q as an embodiment of the national spirit” (McDougall and Louie 1997: 96). Ah Q was intended to mirror certain Chinese attitudes and behaviors demonstrated by many within China at the time. “In the preface to the Russia translation, Lu Xun said he wanted to create a typical modern Chinese soul” (McDougall and Louie 1997: 96). This effect was felt in full force, so much so that many believed the story to be about themselves or directed at them personally.

Readers identified with the character because it correlated with their observation and experience within Chinese society at the time. Ah Q’s method of reconciling defeat to the extent of a

“psychological victory” resonated with Chinese readers, creating an intimate connection between

9 them and the character. Thus, Ah Q “could truly be a Chinese Everyman” (McDougall and

Louie 1997: 97).

By cultivating the reader’s association to the protagonist, the narrative links the struggle of the character with the struggle of the common Chinese citizen. In doing so, a connection between Chinese society and the Ah Q character is forged. As Jameson wrote, narratives such as

True Story “necessarily project a political dimension in the form of national allegory: the story of a private individual destiny is always an allegory of the embattled situation of the public third- world culture and society” (Jameson 1986: 69). Ah Q thus functions as a vehicle of symbolism by which Lu Xun establishes an allegorical representation of China: “Ah Q is thus, allegorically,

China itself” (Jameson 1986: 74). This representation, embodied by the Ah Q character, resonated with Chinese audiences. Thus readers identified with Ah Q in spite of, and, to some extent, because of his unflattering attributes. Therefore, the narrator’s disassociation from the Ah

Q character translates into a disassociation between the upper class of Chinese society and the readers of True Story.

The foundation of turbulence between readers and the upper echelon that is built by the introduction sets a tone for subsequent chapters. This examination is given even greater weight when the introductory chapter is considered as a point in the plot rather than as separate from the story as a whole. Others have argued that “the narrator is the key factor in the construction of the multilayered meanings within the story” (Liu 1995: 72), and this perspective is necessary to the understanding of the way in which True Story implicitly assigns blame upon the gentry for the failure of the 1911 Revolution. Though pivotal, however, this plot point is merely the foundation by which the class partition is initially constructed. The apparent faulting of the upper class is reinforced by the interactions between the protagonist and the gentry in subsequent chapters.

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The first interaction between Ah Q and a member of the gentry is described by the narrator in the first chapter. The member of the gentry with whom Ah Q comes into contact during this first interaction is Old Master . This character is portrayed as the wealthy patriarch of the village in which Ah Q resides, and certainly a member of the local elite. Upon hearing the news that Master Zhao’s son has passed a provincial exam, Ah Q begins to celebrate.

His cause for celebration, however, becomes an issue: “Soon as he heard the news, he danced for joy and told everyone what a great honor this was to him personally because he belonged to the same clan as Old Master Zhao.” (Lu Xun 1990: 103). Ah Q even goes as far as to believe he is a few ranks above Old Master Zhao’s son. This claim at first appears to yield some new respect for

Ah Q from the fellow villagers. However, the following day Ah Q is forced to confront the Zhao patriarch about his claim. Old Master Zhao’s response is quick and harsh: “’Ah Q, you miserable bastard,’ he bellowed…’How dare you talk such rubbish” How could I possible have a clansmen like you? … ‘How could you be named Zhao? How could you even deserve to be named Zhao?’”

(Lu Xun 1990: 104). Ah Q’s attempt to retreat is met with a hard slap across the face from Mr.

Zhao.

Examination of this incident serves to illustrate the claim of class partitioning as it is portrayed in True Story. The purpose of the tone and language that Master Zhao assumes when addressing Ah Q is first and foremost a means of disassociating Ah Q and the gentry. Zhao begins his criticism with a blatant insult, calling Ah Q a “miserable bastard.” Zhao’s description of Ah Q as “miserable” evokes the same sentiment put forth through the word choice of the narrator occurring just prior to this incident in the story. The two characters both assume the same sense of superiority when describing Ah Q, and each of them look down onto the protagonist’s societal position from the elevated prospective of the gentry. This forms an

11 association in the minds of readers between the narrator and Master Zhao. The incident demonstrates the folding of the narrator’s elitist views into those of the narrative’s gentry characters. This association marks the beginning of unification between the narrator and the gentry characters. Readers, through the development of an association with the protagonist, therefore begin to disassociate from the gentry characters as well.

Zhao’s distancing language continues as he invokes the traditional notion of a “clan”.

This sentiment was a prominent aspect of traditional Chinese society. Those who shared a surname thereby formed a general “clan” in order to develop a symbiotic relationship through which success and social progress could be accomplished. As a member of the upper class,

Zhao’s adamant denial of the “miserable” Ah Q as one of his clansmen illustrates the way in which “Lu Xun’s detestation of Chinese tradition, reiterated in many later essays, is frequently linked with the theme of class injustice…” (McDougall and Louie 1997: 95). This incident relates class injustice to Chinese tradition through the traditional concept of clans. Zhao’s harsh treatment and flagrant effort to separate himself from Ah Q illustrates the rampant class injustice of the time. Here the narrative constructs a portrayal of the class partition that existed at the time.

This portrayal is the foundation on which an implicit critique of the revolution’s failure is developed. By developing this disassociation between reader and gentry, the narrative establishes a fault on which the failure of the revolution may later be blamed. This fault is the action and attitude of the gentry at the time of the revolution. The placing of blame, however, is demonstrated later by the revolutionary events involving the gentry and Ah Q.

Further illustration of this consequential action and attitude portrayed through the narrative of True Story occurs when Ah Q returns from town. In describing Ah Q’s departure from his village, the narrator writes: “No one had even noticed that he was gone… going to town

12 was no big thing unless it was Old Master Zhao or Old Master Qian who did the going” (Lu Xun

1990: 139). Here the narrator explains that the excursions made by Zhao and Qian, both members of the gentry, are noted by villagers. The movements and whereabouts of the gentry are traced by fellow villagers, demonstrating their acknowledgment by society. However, trips by the common citizens are unnoticed, “much less a trip by the likes of Ah Q” (Lu Xun 1990: 139).

This is emblematic of the lack in the share of societal consciousness that the common and poor citizens occupy. The focus remains on the gentry, despite the plight of ordinary citizens. This is a subtle yet powerful demonstration of the class injustice and social partitioning that existed during the revolution, furthering the disassociation between reader and gentry.

When Ah Q returns from the village he appears to have assumed a higher social stature, signified by his presentation of “hard cash” at a local shop. The villagers begin to take notice:

“This Ah Q was entirely different from the raggedy-jacket Ah Q they were accustomed to, and thus they treated him with deference” (Lu Xun 1990: 139). The deference shown to Ah Q based solely on the grounds of his elevated financial status further illustrates to readers the hollow stratification that existed in Chinese society at the time of the revolution. Ah Q, despite being described as “miserable” by many, is shown more respect only because of his new wealth. The protagonist explains that he has been working for a prominent gentry figure in town, and this promotes his newfound prestige. Having heard of Ah Q’s recent success, Master Zhao even seeks him out to do minor business. Ah Q, however, cannot fulfill Zhao’s request. Despite the unsuccessful transaction, the fact that Zhao sought out Ah Q, an individual who he had previously deemed unworthy, demonstrates a manipulation of the peasantry for the personal gain of the gentry. This action attests to the ordinary treatment of the common citizens by the gentry.

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Having developed a foundation of disassociation between readers and the gentry, the narrative begins to turn its focus toward revolutionary activities.

Ah Q’s return from the town also signals a transition toward the revolutionary backdrop.

Upon his return, Ah Q begins to regale a crowd with stories about the revolutionary activities he had witnessed while working for Bai, the prominent gentry figure in town. This shift in True

Story toward the depiction of revolutionary activity marks an end to the narrative’s development of fault with the gentry and a beginning in the process of placing blame. The protagonist captures attention with his stories, and this elevates his status to what the narrator describes as “almost equivalent” to Master Zhao’s. Soon after, Bai arrives in the village to store valuables away from the revolutionaries. Ah Q, intrigued, takes notice of the way in which Bai, “respected and feared as he was for miles and miles around – would be utterly terrified by this Revolutionary Party? It was a sweet thought and it made Ah Q lean their way” (Lu Xun 1990: 148). Here Ah Q makes the decision to join the revolutionary party. He does so as a means to take revenge on, or “clear out,” the gentry who have consistently mistreated him. This establishes a motive for revolution, and at first the subsequent reaction by the gentry seems to reinforce this motive.

With revolution approaching the village, the gentry begin to contemplate the implications.

Believing Ah Q to be a signal of the trouble to come, those who have previously ridiculed him now attempt to gain favor: “’Ah Q… I mean, Elder Brother Q. Poor folks like us won’t be in any trouble, will they?’ [Old Master Zhao] asked anxiously in an attempt to determine which way the revolutionary winds were blowing” (Lu Xun 1990: 150). Old Master Zhao attempts to honor an individual who he had previously scorned and assaulted. Having deemed Ah Q “miserable” and beneath his clan, Zhao now addresses Ah Q with an honorary title. He does so as a means to determine the implications that the impending revolution will have on his wealth and stature. The

14 sentiment illustrated here is one of fear. “’When the revolution finally began,’ Lu Xun wrote in

1925, ‘the whole pack of gentry with their stinking pretensions immediately became as scared as stray dogs’” (Pusey 1998: 111). This is illustrated no better than by Zhao’s actions at this junction in the narrative. Referring to himself as poor, Zhao demonstrates his fear that he will be targeted for his status. This is indicative of the belief that the revolution will damage the gentry and assist those in need, such as Ah Q and others. The fear here is based on an understanding that the revolution will have an impact that eliminates the disassociation between the average citizen and the gentry. However, as the narrative continues to illustrate, this is not the case.

Expecting to soon ‘make revolution,’ Ah Q gets rest. However, the next day the protagonist arises to make a startling discovery. Having preempted the effects of the revolution, members of the gentry have already decided to ‘make revolution’ themselves. Ah Q thus awakens to discover he has slept through the ‘revolution.’ Upon awaking, “he went out on the street and did a quick survey – everything was exactly as it had always been. His stomach was exactly as it had always been too – empty” (Lu Xun 1990: 155). With this the narrative first asserts the failure of the revolution. Despite the actions of the gentry, the story points out the lack of change. “Both Ah Q and the gentry want to join the revolution, but Lu Xun had a different attitude towards each faction. He pities and ridicules the former and mercilessly reviled the latter”

(Eber 1985: 270). Here Lu Xun’s ridicule of Ah Q is demonstrated. He portrays the protagonist’s futility and foolishness by having him sleep through the so-called revolution. More importantly, however, is the way in which the derision toward the gentry is portrayed. Though subtle, the reference to Ah Q’s empty stomach illustrates the way in which the revolution did nothing to improve the lives of the poor. Though Ah Q is unaware of it, this is a moment of clarity. The

15 recognition of continuity despite the events of the bourgeois revolution serves to develop an initial conception of the gentry’s responsibility.

Having pointed out the lack in substantial change, the narrative continues on to illustrate that the actual consequences are purely superficial. “And yet you couldn’t say that the revolution hadn’t triggered any reforms in Wei village…after the revolutionaries took the town, for instance, the number of people with queues coiled up on top of their heads gradually began to increase”

(Lu Xun 1990: 155). The coiling of the , while a symbolic gesture, has little impact on society. The gentry become the first to make this symbolic gesture. In this action the narrative demonstrates the inaction of the revolution. “The republican revolution is thus shown to mean little more than a change in hairstyles” (McDougall and Louie 1997: 97). The revolution has failed to improve the lives of those individuals that needed actual change. Even Ah Q, an individual unaware of true social progress, “felt that this whole revolution business was a big disappointment. Since there really had been a revolution, there ought to be more to it than this”

(Lu Xun 1990: 156).

Having become revolutionaries themselves only as a method of deflection, the gentry deprive those on the other side of the class partition from benefit. Without any benefit, the common citizens are left no better off. The disassociation between the gentry and the reader that has been portrayed throughout the narrative prior to the revolution still exists after the revolutionary shift. This is indicative of the revolution’s failure. By portraying the revolution in such a way, the narrative asserts that the reason for this relative failure is the detrimental action and self-serving nature of the gentry. Thus, True Story faults the gentry for the revolution’s failure. Yet the narrative continues to go a step further, beyond placing blame on the gentry solely for the revolution’s failure.

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Ah Q again attempts to join the revolutionary party; though this time he must do so with permission from the gentry, instead of in opposition to them as he had previously attempted.

Immediately upon request, however, he is denied. His failure to join the revolution, coupled with a few fateful events, leads Ah Q to be jailed for a crime he did not commit: the burglary of the

Zhao household. In jail with Ah Q are two other “country people” like himself, and one of them is in for another crime relating to the gentry. When Ah Q is asked why he is jailed, he states plainly: “Cause I wanna revolt” (Lu Xun 1990: 163). Ah Q is unable or unwilling to comprehend the circumstances of his incarceration, let alone the gravity of the situation. Through no direct fault of his own, Ah Q is being led to his death. “Ah Q hankers after revolution, but he is victim of reaction” (Eber 1985: 270). Though Ah Q is the one to suffer, this reaction is brought about through the actions of the gentry. The subsequent trial reflects this notion of reaction set in motion by the gentry.

Ah Q is taken from his cell and dragged into the courtroom, at which point he observes

“many long-gowned gentry types” (Lu Xun 1990: 163). Ah Q, weak in the knees, slumps into a kneeling position. Upon being ordered to stand, however, he is unable. The response to Ah Q’s inability to stand is revealing: “’A born slave!’ observed the long-gowned types with contempt, but they didn’t try to get him to stand up again either” (Lu Xun 1990: 165). The “long-gowned types,” having previously been associated with the gentry, now ridicule Ah Q for his intrinsic enslavement due to his inability to stand on his own. This is an explicit verbal summarization of the gentry’s previous actions. The statement here also contains a metaphorical quality. The gentry mistreat and disassociate themselves from Ah Q for his inability to physically stand up in the same way that they mistreat and disassociate themselves from him as a result of his inability to rise up in society. Yet the narrative makes clear that the “gentry types” do not try to assist him

17 to stand up either. This is symbolic of the way in which the gentry have disallowed the social and financial advancement of poor individuals during the revolution, instead reinforcing their own hegemony and thereby maintaining responsibility for the failure of the revolution.

The courtroom proceedings in which Ah Q subsequently endures involve a series of questions to which Ah Q has no answer. The “gentry types” pressure Ah Q for information and a confession, stating that they will allow him to go free if he admits wrongdoing. Finally, Ah Q agrees to sign a confession. Being illiterate, however, Ah Q is unable to write his own name. He then focuses all his “strength and concentration” on drawing a perfect circle, but upon completion the confession is quickly taken away and his efforts go unnoticed by said gentry.

Shortly thereafter, Ah Q is convicted of the crime and sentenced to execution. In doing so, the court “insisted that the most important thing was to make a public example of Ah Q” (Lu Xun

1990: 168). The decision to take Ah Q’s life was, therefore, in order to deter future criminals from harming the gentry in a similar way. Ah Q’s detriment is thus both the direct and indirect result of the gentry’s hegemony. Here, True Story goes beyond blaming only the revolution’s failure on the gentry. The narrative begins to fault the gentry not only for the inexistence of common benefit and subsequent continuity of disassociation following the revolution, or in other words the unimproved state of the poor, but moreover for the revolution’s detrimental impact on the lower classes. The gentry are thus faulted not only with preventing progression, but also with enabling social and physical downfall.

The trial of Ah Q is emblematic of the argument Foucault puts forth in his piece “On

Popular Justice.” He argues that the main danger perceived by the gentry is an armed uprising by the people. True Story illustrates the gentry’s perception of this danger through the change in attitude toward Ah Q exhibited by the gentry characters when Ah Q is thought to be a

18 revolutionary. Foucault argues that, in order to protect against this danger, the gentry act as intermediary between the masses and the ruling class, and as such they “organized a court which functioned as a mediator” (Foucault 1980: 3). In accordance with the “long-gowned gentry types” present at the trial of Ah Q, the courts exhibit and impose bourgeois ideology. Therefore, “the court, dragging along with it the ideology of bourgeois justice… seems to me to have played a very significant role in the domination of the bourgeoisie” (Foucault 1980: 27). The domination of the gentry through such a legal apparatus exists as a detriment to those beneath the gentry, such as Ah Q.

Maintaining the power of the court immensely bolsters the gentry’s hegemony. The ability to impose their desire and ideology on the masses through such an apparatus augments the class partition as well as maintains a disassociation between gentry and the mid to lower classes.

This disallows for social progress among those outside the sphere of dominance. Revolutions, such as that of 1911, thereby inherently fail in their attempt to bring about reform and popular justice. The fault of this failure therefore lies with the gentry. This is similarly illustrated by the narrative of True Story leading up to Ah Q’s arrest. Furthermore, this bourgeoisie and their legal apparatus go beyond repression to inflict tangible and considerable damage onto those outside the gentry’s hegemony, as demonstrated by Ah Q’s trial and execution. The fault of this detriment thus lies also with the gentry. Therefore, True Story goes beyond placing blame on the gentry for the failure of the revolution, but also faults the gentry for the damage inflicted on common and poor individuals as well.

As Ah Q is being taken through the streets to his execution, adorned with clothing describing his crimes, a crowd begins to form and follow the cart carrying him. “’Bravo! Bravo!’

Shouts rose from the crowd like the howls of so many wolves” (Lu Xun 1990: 170). The crowd

19 stalks the cart carrying Ah Q, much like a hungry wolf would stalk its prey. This even reminds

Ah Q of such an incident involving himself and a ravenous wolf. The onlookers cheer for Ah Q to put on a show, and though he makes an attempt to sing opera, the protagonist ultimately fails to entertain. The narrative concludes with the spectators avowing that “they had followed him in vain” (Lu Xun 1990: 172). The parallel drawn here by the narrative between the spectators and a pack of hungry wolves demonstrates the viciousness existing at all levels of Chinese society. The onlookers are not comprised only of gentry figures, but rather the majority more closely resembles Ah Q in a societal context. While this scene demonstrates the part of the oppression committed by the people, it does not discount the blame placed on the gentry. “It was for the gentry, the main oppressor, the critics believe, that Lu Xun reserved his major condemnation and hate. No matter how oppressive the people’s conduct, Lu Xun dealt with them as a humanist, and he hoped that, ultimately, they would change” (Eber 1985: 270). This sentiment is expressed no better than through the narrative of True Story. Though criticism of the common people certainly exists throughout the narrative, as demonstrated by the final scene, this is not the group with which the True Story ultimately places blame. Through a historically accurate portrayal, the narrative implicitly faults the gentry.

This fault, though implicitly generated through the depiction of the gentry, certainly exists upon examination of the narrative’s intricacy. The disassociation between the gentry and protagonist is first cultivated by the narrator in the introductory chapter, and subsequently built upon throughout the story with a portrayal of the mistreatment perpetrated by the gentry characters against the protagonist. This disassociation and mistreatment then resonates with readers through the development of an association to the Ah Q character. The narrative thereby creates a partition between readers and the gentry characters, laying the foundation of

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responsibility. When the notion of revolution is eventually introduced into the story through the

life of the protagonist, it brings with it a prognosis of upward mobility and reform. In defending

against this prognosis, however, the gentry take deflective action by initiating the revolution

themselves. This immediately disallows the possibility of social progress for the common and

poor members of society who are once again subject to the gentry, though now in the context of

a revolution. Consequently, the class partition and notion of disassociation previously

constructed by the narrative remains concomitant to the revolutionary activity.

Due to the actions of the gentry, society remains in an unimproved state post-revolution.

Thus, the revolution’s lack of common benefit inherently entails its failure. The narrative,

therefore, implicitly faults the gentry for this failure. Yet the narrative does not cease in its

assignment of culpability. The arrest of the protagonist for a crime against the gentry - one he did

not commit - and the subsequent sentence of execution handed down through a bourgeois legal

apparatus further condemn the gentry. With this the narrative assigns blame to the gentry not

only for the stifling of social progress during the revolution, but also for the social and physical

demise of the average citizen that was brought about through the revolution. True Story,

therefore, portrays the actions and interactions of the gentry and the working class during the

Revolution of 1911 in a way such that there exists within the narrative an implicit faulting of the

gentry for the failure and harmful consequence of the revolution.

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