“The ‘Tongbian’ in Tang Xianzu’s Literary Thought” | Zhou Yude on The Peony Pavilion, Part Eight

The outstanding achievements of Tang Xianzu’s literary and artistic creation are rooted in his unique life experiences, closely linked to his relatively progressive political thought, and at the same time guided by his specific aesthetic and literary principles.

 

Tang Xianzu did not leave behind any monumental treatises on literary theory. Nevertheless, among his voluminous poetic and prose works, one can find numerous remarks on poetry, prose, drama, painting, and music. By briefly organizing these passages, we may gain a general understanding of his aesthetic and literary outlook. This essay seeks to offer a preliminary exploration of Tang Xianzu’s literary thought from several perspectives: the expression of emotion, the pursuit of truth, the cultivation of originality, and the embrace of change.
 

 

“Regulate one’s temperament through breathing, and comprehend the transformations of all under heaven.” (“Preface to Zhu Maozhong’s Essays on the Classical Examinations”) , is another aspect of Tang Xianzu’s artistic and literary philosophy. Tang Xianzu maintained that writing should draw on the experience of the ancients and emulate tradition; yet, even more crucially, it must adapt to the times, embrace change, and cultivate one’s own talent. He said:

 

In the past, people often composed such works precisely because of the extraordinary depth of their “emotion,” and thus they have been passed down. When these are enriched by “talent” and refined by “learning,” their transmission becomes all the more enduring. Yet, looking back today, we see that this too is but a product of the “times.” (Preface to the First Collection of Xueyuyuan)

 

During the Ming dynasty, the imperial examination system relied on the eight‑part essay, which trained scholars across the realm to think rigidly, lacking in spontaneity and originality. Most literati not only produced lifeless eight‑part essays but even their poetry and prose tended to be formulaic. Tang Xianzu lamented:

 

In the world, roughly three or four out of every ten people possess a measure of spiritual sensibility. Yet among a hundred, a hundred and even a thousand, how many can truly excel in skillful arts and literary composition without achieving renown? Is it not because their natures are less endowed with such sensitivity? The Master has said: “Nature draws near, while habit carries far.” Today’s scholars, by long practicing the essays required for examinations, end up finding that everywhere they turn, all is but the style of those exams. Likewise, those who serve as literary officials, by habituating themselves to the prescribed forms of the imperial examinations, eventually find that everywhere they go, all is but the rigid patterns of those tests. And it is not only the writings of the official examinations; even when one forces oneself to compose classical prose, poetry, and verse, one still ends up conforming to nothing but the mold of those prescribed styles. (“Preface to the Writings of Zhang Yuanchang’s Xuyun Pavilion”)

 

Accordingly, he raised the question of the relationship between “law” and “change.” He said:

 

Truly talented individuals ground their principles in constancy and adapt their methods to embrace all change. Without constancy, one cannot establish enduring standards; without the capacity to adapt to change, one cannot fully realize one’s potential. (Preface to the Collected Writings of Lanxiu Tower)

 

 

He advocated, on the one hand, adhering to “principles” and “conformity to law”—that is, observing the general rules and conventions of writing to ensure that one’s prose is both sound in form and elevated in quality—while, on the other hand, embracing complete freedom of innovation and full expression of one’s talents and originality, thus avoiding being bound by the rigid constraints of “law.”
 

 

Tang Xianzu also raised the question of the relationship between “method” and “opportunity.” He instructed his son, Tang Kaiyuan, saying:

 

Words are but undulations, separations and unions, fragments and continuities. Through extreme variation, one comes to know them of one’s own accord. A father cannot grasp his son. Yet this is all that lies within the bounds of principle and mechanism: when principle ceases, and mechanism takes its course. (“Inscription on the Examination of the Original Drafts of the Two Assemblies of Tang and Xu”)

 

He said that “Fa” seems to be fixed and immutable, while “Ji” is fluid and ever-changing. The so‑called “mechanism” is none other than the “heavenly mechanism,” which is, in turn, the “human heart.” He once said: “The heavenly mechanism is nothing but human nature; and human nature is, in essence, the human heart. The heart is the root of the mechanism, and the mechanism lies in its manifestation.” (Commentary on the Yin Fu Jing) In other words, the ebb and flow of human thought and emotion can determine the dynamic rhythm and variation of a piece of writing. While adhering to what seems to be an unchanging “rule,” one should fully mobilize one’s own unique… (Which fathers and sons cannot substitute for one another) With genuine thoughts and emotions, one can write an original piece.

 

In the process of writing, one’s thoughts and emotions sometimes come into conflict with the “technique” of the piece. At such times, Tang Xianzu maintained that it was preferable to transcend established norms in order to make progress. He elucidates this view by contrasting the two distinct temperaments of “kuang” and “juan”:

 

The Master said, "When I reflect on the Middle Way and find it unattainable, I am forced to conclude that only the impetuous and the austere are fitted to it. In their writing the austere are concise, solemn, and severe; they prize rectitude and purity, hold the square and plumb with precision, and never lose the cord and ink—never stray from the standard. Scholars may be refined, yet what I most admire are those who are bold and enterprising." (Preface to the Collected Writings of Lanxiu Tower)

 

The so‑called “many enterprising individuals” are, in essence, the “fanatical.” What, then, is a “fanatical” person? Li Zhi said:

 

The madman looks down upon the ancients and up at himself, believing that though the ancients were lofty, their footsteps have already passed—why should he bother to follow in their wake? This is what is called having grand ambitions. Accordingly, he utters lofty pronouncements; whatever his own body cannot accomplish, or what he dares not undertake, he likewise speaks of at random and without restraint—this is called speaking with great boldness. It is only natural that his conduct fails to win him respect. Why is this? Because his temperament and circumstances themselves cannot conceal it. … He sees that the fetters of the world have grown exceedingly oppressive, that baseness is both loathsome and pervasive, and so he gives free rein to his wild words. (Volume Two of “Burning Books,” “Letter to a Friend”)

 

 

This kind of madman, who refuses to tread the well-worn paths of the ancients and is unwilling to be bound by the shackles of established norms, may not, like the “jue” type, “hold the chisel and draw the line without ever straying from the ruler,” nor be “exquisite in simplicity, stern and upright, devoted to rectitude and purity.” Yet he harbors great ambitions, dares to speak boldly, brims with a spirit of enterprise, and possesses a creative originality. Between the two extremes of madness and uprightness, Tang Xianzu would rather choose the madman. Tang Xianzu advocated adaptability and innovation, which in essence amounts to advocating progressiveness. He admires Xiao Shiwei’s writings precisely because Xiao is able “to generate ideas with extraordinary flair and insight, standing apart from the crowd, transcending conventional norms, and eloquently articulating his own distinct voice.” (“Inscription on the Essays Composed by Xiao Boyu”) It possesses the enterprising spirit of a visionary.
 

 

Tang Xianzu’s own creative work likewise embodied his principle of expressing and cultivating one’s temperament through the practice of “tu na”—that is, breathing in and out with spontaneity—while remaining adaptable, enterprising, unrestrained by rigid conventions, and unbound by past imitations.