Preface [to the 1620 edition]

Fiction began to rise when the tradition of historiography showed signs of decline. With Han Fei [ca. 280–233 B.C.E.] and Lie Yukou [ca. 450–375 B.C.E.] as its progenitors, it started to take shape toward the end of the Zhou dynasty [ca. 1027–256 B.C.E.], flourished in the Tang dynasty [C.E. 618–907], and became widespread in the Song dynasty [960–1279]. Although the Spring and Autumn Annals of Wu and Yue [Wu Yue chunqiu] appeared during the Han dynasty [206 B.C.E.–C.E. 220], in general few works [of fiction] were produced after the book burning of the Qin dynasty [221–206 B.C.E.] until the Kaiyuan reign period [C.E. 713–42], when men of letters turned with enthusiasm to the writing of fiction. As for the colloquial novel [ yanyi], little is known about how it came into being. What is known, however, is that affiliated with the Bureau of Court Services of the Southern Song dynasty [1127–1279] were storytellers, not unlike the marketplace storytellers of our day, whose language was simple and easy to understand, though the authorship of the stories is untraceable.

After the Song emperor Gaozong yielded the throne to his son [in 1163] to enjoy the support of all under heaven in the later years of his long life of virtue, he took delight in reading huaben stories in his hours of leisure. He had the eunuchs find him a new story every day, and if the story was to his liking, the person who provided it would be richly rewarded with cash. Hence the eunuchs searched high and low for strange tales of former days and for the idle talk of the streets and alleys. They would then have the material elaborated into stories to be presented to the emperor for his pleasure. But once read, the stories were cast aside and most ended up in the interior quarters of the palace; not more than one or two out of ten ever came to circulate among the people. Yet some of them, such as “Wanjiang Tower” and “The Double-Fish Pendants” are so shallow and vulgar that they provide no delectation. In the Yuan dynasty [1260–1368] both Shi Nai’an and Luo Guanzhong promoted [vernacular fiction], and works such as Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Outlaws of the Marsh, and The Quelling of the Demons attained substantial length and became great landmarks of fiction. In general, it was not as a hobby in times of peace, but to keep their distance from the controversies of the day and to while away their time, that they composed their works, which, like jade hidden in rocks, did not receive the amount of attention they deserved.

Literature and the arts have been so vigorously advanced by the imperial court of this Ming dynasty that each and every school is flourishing; in vernacular fiction alone, there is no lack of writings of a quality far above those of the Song. It is a mistake to believe, as some do, that such works lack the charm of those of the Tang. One who has a love for the peach need not forsake the apricot. Fine linen, silk gauze, plush, brocade—each has its proper occasion for wear. To measure Song writing by Tang standards is like measuring the Tang by Han standards, and measuring the Han in turn by those of the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods [770–221 B.C.E.]. By such logic, even the divine Fuxi’s² strokes of the Trigrams would also be deprived of all their worth. That is an absurd proposition indeed.

For the most part, Tang writers preferred an elegant style that appealed to literary minds. Song writers used the colloquial attuned to the common ear. Now common ears outnumber literary minds in our world, and fiction draws less from the elegant than from the colloquial style. Just ask the storytellers to demonstrate in public their art of description: they will gladden you, astonish you, move you to sad tears, rouse you to song and dance; they will prompt you to draw a sword, bow in reverence, cut o a head, or donate money. The faint-hearted will be made brave, the debauched chaste, the unkind compassionate, the obtuse ashamed. One may well intone the Classic of Filial Piety [Xiaojing] and the Analects of Confucius every day,³ yet he will not be moved so quickly nor so profoundly as by these storytellers. Can anything less accessible achieve such e ect? The Heretical Historiographer of Maoyuan⁴ has amassed quite a collection of popular stories old and new. Upon the request of a merchant, he selected for publication a volume of forty stories that may appeal to the common ear. I was so delighted upon reading them that I picked up my brush pen and wrote this preface.

Inscribed by
the Master of the Green Sky Studio⁵