Qing Dynasty, Cha Jizuo, “Biography of Tang Xianzu”

Tang Xianzu, courtesy name Yireng and sobriquet Hai Ruo, was a native of Linchuan in Jiangxi. At the metropolitan examination in the Wanli dingchou year, officials at Jiangling, admiring his talent, repeatedly urged him to contend for the top rank, but he declined. In the guǐwèi year he became a jinshi. At that time some of his classmates—the sons of high officials from Puzhou and Suzhou—sought to obtain posts for him through the official selection office, but he again refused. He petitioned for the post of Southern Doctor and amused himself by visiting scenic sites and jotting down trifling notes. He was later transferred as a lang in the Ministry of Rites. For offering candid remonstrances he was demoted to serve as magistrate of Xuwen; after some time he was appointed magistrate of Suichang, where he cared for the people as though nursing them. Scholars came daily to study under him and to debate and expound ancient meanings. Of a plain and straightforward temper, he could not endure flattering powerful officials. When included in official rosters he would simply tell the ministry office he was returning home and could not be kept; he could not be persuaded to stay. The provincial supervisors and censors again recommended his reinstatement, but he did not accept. His enemies nevertheless, at the major personnel review in the xinchou year, stripped him of his office. He built a small room and kept his books there, once telling a visitor, “With these, one need never be poor.” He delighted in chivalric deeds and was quick to come to others’ aid. Broadly learned, he was especially fond of the Wenxuan selections of the Han and Wei dynasties; from the remnants of his studies he composed chuanqi (romances/plays). Whenever he produced a play he had a young scribe sing it aloud; his harmonizing was not polished, but it was vigorous and joyous. Because he did not admire the Donglin faction, his official career never prospered. Critics said: “Hai Ruo’s writing is generally skilled in delicate, ornate expression and not concerned with practical affairs; yet his flights of thought enter the divine and often break with the ancients.” It is said that while compiling the four plays he sat atop his sedan.
In his writing, he never felt the weight of his toil. As for his composition “The Peony Pavilion,” I have remarked that it is both insightful and somewhat indiscriminate. When Hai-ruo first encountered Xu Shanyin’s “Four‑Tone Monkeys,” he derided it, declaring that this ox possessed the strength of a thousand men—and thus he composed a biographical sketch of it.