[In these excerpts, Yang, Li and Mao first outline the importance of Romance of the Three Kingdoms and The Water Margin as foundational texts in the history of the Chinese novel. They address the evolution of the texts through the seventeenth century and the differing approaches to history taken by each author. They also note the varying interpretations that have been applied to the later work Journey to the West, noting its author's strengths in satire and characterization.]

ROMANCE OF THE THREE KINGDOMS AND THE WATER MARGIN

Romance of the Three Kingdoms and The Water Margin are important landmarks in the history of Chinese fiction. Popular in China, they represent significant achievements of Chinese literature. They are often treated together or compared with each other by scholars because of their obvious similarities. Despite their differences in design and in other areas, the two are grouped together for discussion in this essay.

A. ROMANCE OF THE THREE KINGDOMS (SAN-KUO CHIH YEN-I)

Romance of the Three Kingdoms, probably the most popular historical narrative in China, has been widely read not only by scholars and officials but by the less educated as well. In the West it is one of the few Chinese novels of which there are complete translations. It was first translated into English by C. H. Brewitt-Taylor more than fifty years ago.¹ Even though a more accurate English translation of the title should be the Popular Elaboration of the Chronicle of the Three Kingdoms, the novel has long been known in the West by its familiar name, Romance of the Three Kingdoms, adopted by Brewitt-Taylor.

The Romance has been attributed to Lo Kuan-chung (ca. 1330-1400),² of whom little is known. He was probably a playwright and fiction writer of the late Yüan or the early Ming period. Many other works, such as The Water Margin, have also been attributed to him. Of all the works attributed to Lo Kuan-chung, scholars generally agree that the Romance bears the closest resemblance to what might have been his original version. In addition, of the works attributed to him in whole or in part, only the Romance can be reasonably accepted as his own compilation, for Lo Kuan-chung's name appears not only in its earliest surviving edition but also in nearly all subsequent ones. Also, later bibliographical sources almost unanimously attribute the work to him.

The evolution of the Romance can be divided into three periods. The first period began with the T'ang dynasty (618-907) when oral tales about the events of the Three Kingdoms period became popular and ended at the beginning of the Ming (1368-1644). This period's major work was no doubt the San-kuo chih p'ing-hua (A P'ing-hua of the History of the Three Kingdoms). The second period started with the compilation of the Romance in the early years of the Ming. But no handwritten copies of the novel's original version have survived. The earliest surviving and probably the first printed edition, entitled San-kuo chih t'ung-su yen-i (Popular Elaboration of the Chronicle of the Three Kingdoms), was issued in the Chia-ching period (1522-1567). Numerous editions based on the Chia-ching version were published during the second half of the Ming dynasty. Most scholars believe that the Chia-ching edition was not derived from or based on the San-kuo chih p'ing-hua version but was an entirely different creation. The destruction of the Ming empire ended the second period of the history of the Romance. The third period began when Mao Tsung-kang (fl. 1679) produced a revised version and a commentary on the novel³ in the early years of the Ch'ing dynasty. The Mao edition has since become the standard version of the Romance and is still widely used today.

Many scholars, notably Hu Shih, believe that the Romance came about through a slow process of evolution,⁴ even though it reflects very limited influences of the folk tradition. In fact, it reveals in some respects an obvious departure from the storyteller's tradition. Capitalizing on the old Three Kingdoms story cycle, Lo Kuan-chung has refined its narration and reduced its falsification of history. Adding new elements to the cycle, he has created a small number of fictional episodes and a few ahistorical characters in accordance with known historical facts. Despite its extensive use of sources, the Romance is more likely the work of a single author.

Of all the sources used by Lo Kuan-chung, the most important is Ch'en Shou's (233-297) Chronicle of the Three Kingdoms (San-kuo chih),⁵ a reliable official history of the Three Kingdoms period (220-280), when China was divided into Wei, Shu (also known as Shu-Han), and Wu. Lo has also utilized much of the information found in P'ei Sung-chih's (fl. 400-430) lengthy commentary on the official history. Lo shares many of Ch'en's views on history. But Ch'en, for political reasons, regards the Wei as the legitimate successor to the Han, whereas Lo considers the Shu as the sole heir to the Han Empire. Although they share the same orthodox Confucian didactic views on history, Lo obviously has adopted a cyclical interpretation of the rise and fall of dynasties.

In his presentation of historical episodes Lo, in most instances, follows the official history fairly closely. Because of the framework of the official history, Lo could not freely create fictional characters and episodes from imagination. Nevertheless, even within such limitations, Lo had managed to present many remarkable and fascinating accounts of historical events.

Lo Kuan-chung's views on the three states are amply revealed in his character portrayals. For example, in contrasting Liu Pei (162-223) of the Shu with Ts'ao Ts'ao (155-220) of the Wei, and Chu-ko Liang (181-234) of the Shu with the Wu general Chou Yü (174-218), Lo makes Liu and Chu-ko come out as much more positive characters than Ts'ao Ts'ao and Chou Yü. It should also be noted that Lo has extended his own predilections beyond character portrayals. To him the rivalry between the Shu and the Wei, like that between the Shu and the Wu, is a contest between legitimacy and illegitimacy; the forces of legitimacy, in his view, should rightly defeat those of illegitimacy. Therefore, he portrays most leaders of the Shu as heroes and those of the Wei or the Wu often as villains. This bias is seen in his portrayals of many major and minor characters.

Although he intends, in general, to glorify Liu Pei and his followers and to vilify Ts'ao Ts'ao, Sun Ch'üan (181-252) and their associates, Lo also painstakingly presents them as complex beings. For instance, his Ts'ao Ts'ao has many of the virtues as recorded in the official history; similarly, his portrait of the much admired Kuan Yü includes many of Kuan's character flaws. Successfully blending popular views with historical facts, he has produced many memorable portrayals. Even though he uses Ch'en Shou's official history Chronicle of the Three Kingdoms as his main source to develop his characters, he adheres to it or deviates from it as he sees fit. It is a generally accepted view that the Romance excels in its character portrayals, particularly in its descriptions of those obsessed with ambition. Several of his important characters will be examined to illustrate his portrayals.

Lo Kuan-chung has given much attention to Chu-ko Liang, the Prime Minister of the Shu Kingdom. In the novel, Chu-ko is portrayed as a military genius, scoring triumphs at the Battle of Ch'ih-pi, in the campaigns against the southern Man tribes, and in his numerous battles with Ssu-ma I. Lo stresses Chu-ko as a military commander without peer, a master of tactics and strategy who often defeats his enemy through strange plans and even through the use of magic; Lo places less emphasis on Chu-ko Liang's administrative abilities. However, in the official history, Chu-ko is a prudent and cautious administrator and a less-than-spectacular military commander. It is obvious that Lo has added new elements to the portrayal of Chu-ko Liang as found in the official history. To Chu-ko's high intelligence and organizational ability Lo has added the heroic qualities of wizardry and invincibility in war. Thus the fictional Chu-ko Liang possesses powers that the historical Chu-ko did not have. These include his magic powers, martial prowess, and a penchant for successfully executing strange and deceptive plans. In short, the difference between the historical and fictional Chu-ko is that the former is a cautious, orthodox, and politically oriented Legalist administrator whereas the latter is a Confucian statesman and invincible general with superhuman strategic abilities and Taoist magical powers. Having deviated significantly from his main historical source in his portrayal of Chu-ko Liang, Lo has transformed a historical figure into an essentially different fictional character. But a more careful scrutiny of Chu-ko in the novel will demonstrate the historicity of this character.

First of all, there are Chu-ko Liang's superhuman wisdom and magical powers. Throughout the novel superhuman elements play only a very minor part. Major Three Kingdoms figures, especially Chu-ko Liang, are rationalists who emphasize human efforts. Chu-ko Liang's superhuman powers fail to make significant differences in the final outcome of the military struggles. Also, some of his fictional contraptions and schemes, such as “wooden oxen” and “flying horses,” are actually elaborations of hints from the official history or from P'ei Sung-chih's commentary.⁶

Moreover, although Lo occasionally presents Chu-ko as a military commander of superhuman powers, he in the main has kept Chu-ko as a mortal and made him realistically human. It is true that Chu-ko's preternatural intelligence and wizardry often enable him to defeat almost any human adversary, but he is not immune from miscalculations and misjudgments. While stressing Chu-ko's noble qualities, Lo also shows Chu-ko's human weaknesses, such as his cruelty and cunning. In the novel he dies as a mortal despite his elaborate, almost mystical, efforts to prolong his own life. Since Lo intends the Romance to be essentially a human drama, he has no intention of portraying Chu-ko as a supernatural or divine being. What Lo has done is to weave together the historical image and popular views of Chu-ko into a complex and fascinating character.

Chu-ko Liang's master, Liu Pei, the founder of the Kingdom of Shu, is described as a descendant of Prince Ching of Chung-shan. Liu loses his father at an early age and is raised by his mother under harsh circumstances. He sells sandals and weaves mats for a living and he serves his mother faithfully. Small in size, he stands not quite five feet tall. His earlobes touch his shoulders; his hands reach past his knees, and his eyes somehow are positioned in such a way that they can see his own ears. His ch'i-hsiang (unusual appearance) is regarded as an indication of greatness. A man of few words and not particularly fond of learning, he is extremely generous and good-hearted. His countenance does not betray his thoughts and feelings. But in his heart, he harbors great ambitions, and he loves to associate with like-minded stalwarts.

An omen of his future greatness is a fifty-foot mulberry tree situated in the south-east corner of his home. From a distance it looks like the canopy of a huge carriage. A soothsayer predicts, “A man of noble destiny will certainly emerge from this house.”⁷ When playing with the neighborhood children under the tree one day, Liu Pei says, “I am the Son of Heaven, and I should ride in this carriage.”⁸ At fifteen his mother sends him to study with famous scholars. But his life remains uneventful until he is twenty-eight when he, Chang Fei, and Kuan Yü become sworn brothers to help suppress the Yellow Turban rebels. This marks the beginning of his political career.

Liu Pei's early career in the novel closely resembles what is recorded in the official history; fictional elements are comparatively few. He is not romanticized either as a hsia (knight-errant), a chiang (general), or a chün (prince); he appears as an ordinary man in a chaotic world. Ultimately, humility (genuine or feigned), generosity, and benevolence raise him above his fellow men. Portrayed as warm, generous, and sympathetic, he is a taciturn hero distinguished for his humanity.

Liu Pei's Prime Minister and Commander-in-Chief Chu-ko Liang is the wise counselor par excellence. Despite his wisdom, abilities, and resourcefulness, Chu-ko cannot act on his own. He is subject to the wishes and decisions of Liu Pei, whom he serves. Occasionally he must also yield to Kuan Yü (d. 219), the haughty general and one of the sworn brothers and trusted officers of Liu Pei. Kuan Yü, the leader of Liu Pei's Five Tiger Generals, epitomizes the warrior-general spirit. He has no realistic understanding of his own limitations, but his ability to assert himself enables him to capture the hearts of the Chinese people. And because of his independent spirit in spite of injunctions to the contrary, he becomes the embodiment of the heroic ideal of the popular imagination. His fearless bravery enables him to “look upon death as returning home”; his unswerving loyalty to Liu Pei and, above all, his stubborn pride and pristine purity make him tower over the other heroes, although they may have greater wisdom, prudence, or military skill. Even when a strategic compromise becomes necessary for his own survival and for the good of the state, he, the stubborn and extremely confident warrior, refuses to compromise and thus brings about his own death. When Chu-ko Chin, representing Sun Ch'üan, Emperor of the Kingdom of Wu, appeals to him at the City of Mai for one last chance to form an alliance with Sun Ch'üan against their common enemy, the Kingdom of Wei, Kuan Yü rebuts Chu-ko Chin harshly:

“I am just a simple fighter from the district of Chieh-liang. Favored by my Prince, I have been treated as his own brother, how, then, can I turn my back on righteousness and join with his enemy? If the city falls, I will simply die. A piece of jade may be shattered, but its color will never change. A piece of bamboo may be burned to ashes, but its joints will remain intact. I may perish, but my name will go down in historical records. Say no more; leave the city quickly. I will fight Sun Ch'üan to death.”⁹

From a strategic point of view, the action taken by Kuan Yü, who has been deified as the God of War, appears foolhardy, but to the popular imagination his conduct is consistent with the heroic ideal of the warrior-general. His goodness and purity, in the minds of the people, have overridden the strategic considerations of his commander-in-chief Chu-ko Liang, who observes that “Kuan Yü has always been harsh and arrogant; it is his harshness and arrogance that have finally brought about his downfall.”¹⁰ In short, Lo Kuan-chung's Kuan Yü is a hero tragically flawed by excessive self-confidence.

In the Romance there are many other heroes. But no matter how brilliant and talented they may be, most of their efforts are foredoomed to failure because the time is not propitious. It is under these circumstances that their actions must be judged. They make their choices and stand by them even though they know that the odds against their success are formidable. Their ambition is to help their respective chosen masters fulfill their ambitious designs. In fact, ambition is one of the most important themes of the novel. Nearly all the major characters are ambitious in one way or another. Some, like Ts'ao Ts'ao, dream of national unification through the annihilation of rivals; others, like Liu Pei, hope to restore the Han empire. Without exception, generals, ministers, counselors, strategists, and even minor officials all intend to serve their respective princes faithfully and play important roles. But in the end nearly all fail to reach their life-long goals, and many die in bitter disappointment. Stressing their ambitions, failures, and deaths, Lo Kuan-chung dramatically reveals, often at the deathbed, their helplessness, their inability to challenge fate, and their ultimate failure. Even though most of them know that the times are against them, and that it is unlikely that they will ever fulfill their ambitious goals, they would not give up their ambitions or admit their failures until the very end of their lives. A few examples of Lo Kuan-chung's powerful death scenes will provide some glimpses of their world.

Yüan Shao, an ambitious warlord of great military strength in his early years, has now lost much of his power, due to his indecisiveness, his lack of leadership, his inability to control his divided staff, and his personal preference for his youngest son, Yüan Shang.¹¹ In the end, his military strength is greatly reduced, and he is almost captured by his enemy. Deeply distressed, he becomes gravely ill. The following is a moving account of his death:

Yüan Shao heard about Yüan Shang's defeat, which came as a great shock to him. His old illness recurred. After spitting a huge quantity of blood, he swooned to the ground.

The Lady Liu, his wife, got him to bed as quickly as possible, but he failed to rally and his condition became critical. So she sent for Shen P'ei and Feng Chi to make final arrangements.

Yüan Shao could no longer speak; he only made motions with his hands. Lady Liu asked, “Can [Yüan] Shang succeed you?” [Yüan] Shao nodded his head. Shen P'ei at the bedside wrote out the dying man's testament. [Yüan] Shao turned over and uttered a loud cry and spat another large quantity of blood and passed away.¹²

Thus, Yüan Shao dies without fulfilling his ambitious goal of eliminating all his rivals.

Another famous general, Chou Yü, whose ambition is to help his prince Sun Ch'üan unify China by destroying all of Sun's present and potential rivals, dies in a similar manner. Portrayed as a narrow-minded person deeply jealous of the talents of Chu-ko Liang, he has tried repeatedly to kill Chu-ko even though his country and Chu-ko's are in alliance against their common enemy Ts'ao Ts'ao, who occupies most of China. But all of Chou's schemes to kill Chu-ko fail; his jealousy and bitterness toward his arch-enemy eventually bring about his own death. His final end, too, is typical of the deaths of many ambitious but frustrated heroes. Nearing death and realizing that he has failed to reach his ambitious goal, he says to his assembled generals,

“It is not that I don't want to express my loyalty to my country, but my end is at hand. Please serve our master well so that you may together establish a dynastic line.”

Having said these words, he fainted. Slowly he regained consciousness. He looked up to heaven and sighed deeply, “Since you have brought me into the world, why have you also brought [Chu-ko] Liang into it too?”

He cried out several times, and then passed away. He was thirty-six.¹³

Of all the death scenes in the novel Chu-ko Liang's is probably the most moving. During his last northern campaign against the Wei forces, he becomes gravely ill. One night, having scanned the heavens and studied the stars, he returns to his tent and says to his trusted aide Chiang Wei, “My life may end at any moment.”¹⁴ And he instructs Chiang to make elaborate arrangements to prolong his life. But when such arrangements fail due to the carelessness of Wei Yen, one of his generals, he says, “Life and death are foreordained; no prayers can alter them.”¹⁵ When Chiang Wei is about to draw his sword to execute Wei Yen for the latter's carelessness, Chu-ko says to Chiang, “My life is fated to end—it's no fault of Wei Yen.”¹⁶ When he lies dying, he composes a memorial to the Emperor of Shu which says in part:

“I have heard that life and death are governed by constant laws and that it is difficult to evade fate. Now that my death is at hand, I should like to express my humble loyalty. …”¹⁷

Chu-ko attributes his failure to reach his ambitious goal of restoring the Han empire and his impending death to Heaven's will or design. It seems to him that no one can change the workings of fate, no matter how extraordinary one may be. A sense of personal limitation emerges clearly from this and many other death scenes in the novel. Fatalism, indeed, dominates many important events throughout the novel.

The Romance cannot be considered a historical novel in the Western sense of the term, because of its fairly close adherence to historical facts, its emphasis on historical figures rather than fictional characters, its attention to historical events rather than fictional episodes, and its lack of imagistic or symbolic structure.¹⁸ It bears little resemblance to such historical novels as those by Sir Walter Scott. In addition, unlike the Western historical novel which generally concentrates on one or two characters, the Romance emphasizes the exploits of multiple heroes and villains and a rapid sequence of dramatic events within a historical period. Like a Chinese scroll painting of enormous length, as pointed out by Roy Andrew Miller, the Romance presents “a long, continuous spectacle, but only a single episode and a few characters are visible at any one time.”¹⁹ The novel is “caught up in carefully placed foci of excitement and emotion from time to time, giving articulation and structure to what otherwise might have been simply an interminable assembly of anecdotes and narrative clichés.”²⁰

With its close adherence to history and its retelling of history in a plain language, the Romance should probably be regarded as a popular history. In fact, Lo Kuan-chung's intent, as reflected in the title of his work and in Chiang Ta-ch'i's preface to the Chia-ching edition, is to retell the official history in plain language and to make its meaning more comprehensible to the common people. Identifying himself essentially as a popular historian, Lo has adhered closely to a strict chronological sequence and created relatively few patently fictional episodes. In short, with his strength primarily as a popular historian, he has created a single continuous narrative of the major events of the Three Kingdoms period. It is not a haphazard collection of anecdotes, rambling episodes or fictional biographies but a coherently structured narrative. He has greatly popularized the history of the Three Kingdoms period for the common people of China who otherwise might not have a chance to learn about it. Moreover, unlike the official historical account, Lo's version, in humanizing historical figures, enables the reader to see the cause and effect of historical events.

Harold Toliver says that “whereas fiction moves toward history in presenting an assumed historical reality, history writing moves toward fiction in its storied coherence and embellishments.”²¹ This statement aptly describes the Romance, a unique mixture of history and fiction. While some critics reject the book as creative historical fiction, arguing that it is not fully fictionalized with historical imagination, few, if any, historians accept it as authentic history because they do not consider it sufficiently truthful or objective. But many critics and historians fail to realize that, despite its slightly fictional elaborations and some episodes with little historical basis, the Romance is fairly reliable, because its elaborations and episodes seldom contradict recorded history; in fact, they tend to confirm historical facts. In dramatizing history, they have injected new vitality and vividness into the facts of history.

To summarize, Lo Kuan-chung's main contribution lies in his success in instilling a new life into the old Three Kingdoms cycle; he rejected vulgar elements common among folk speech and introduced a more elegant language. Embellishing the main thread of history without seriously contradicting historical facts and rejecting most of the sensational and supernatural elements found in oral tales and popular legends, he produced a fairly reliable and extremely popular and interesting historical account, superior to the official history in terms of readability and literary interest. Lo created a new genre of fiction: the yen-i type of popular historical narrative, a uniquely Chinese contribution to world literature.

B. THE WATER MARGIN (SHUI-HU CHUAN)

At about the time of the appearance of the earliest surviving version of the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, The Water Margin²² (also known in the West as All Men Are Brothers, the title of Pearl Buck's translation²³) became available. Written in a far more colloquial language than the Romance, The Water Margin deals with the exploits of a band of outlaws of the early twelfth century. Even though some of its characters are historical, and the setting in the present Shantung province is geographically correct, The Water Margin, unlike the Romance, is a fully fictionalized account of history. With little historical basis, most of its episodes, derived from oral and legendary sources, are fictional and its heroes ahistorical. In short, while the Romance can be read as a type of popular history, The Water Margin is essentially fiction.

The Water Margin came about through a slow process of evolution. The History of the Sung (Sung shih) contains a note on a band of thirty-six outlaws led by Sung Chiang, their repeated victories over government troops, their subsequent surrender to the government, and their participation in the successful government campaign of 1121 against the rebel Fang La and Fang's followers. The exploits of this band somehow captured the popular imagination and eventually became popular subjects for Southern Sung professional storytellers. The earliest known fictional account of the Sung Chiang band is found in the Historical Anecdotes of the Hsüan-ho Period (Hsüan-ho i-shih), probably an early Yüan work based partly on storytellers' prompt-books and partly on other literary sources. Generally considered the prototype of The Water Margin, the Historical Anecdotes inspired the creation of countless legends, oral tales, written stories, and Yüan plays about the band, leading up to the novel's first written version toward the end of the Yüan or at the beginning of the Ming. But this version is no longer extant. During the Ming a number of episodes were added to the novel, and many editions are believed to have been published during that period. The earliest surviving edition dates from the middle of the sixteenth centuries. In 1614 a 120-chapter edition, which is the most complete version, appeared. It had remained popular until 1641 when a famous fiction commentator and champion of vernacular literature, Chin Sheng-t'an (1610?-1661), prepared a 70-chapter version. Retaining only the first seventy-one chapters of the 1614 edition and using Chapter 1 as the prologue, he added a commentary to the novel. His version tightened the novel's loose structure and eventually became the most popular edition. The two available English translations (by Pearl Buck and J. H. Jackson respectively) were both based on Chin's version.

Many significant differences exist between the 120-chapter and the 70-chapter versions. One major difference is found in the novel's ending. The 120-chapter version ends on a note of muted tragedy, because the heroes in this version die one after another, leaving their declared mission, “Practice the Way on Behalf of Heaven” (t'i t'ien hsing tao), unfulfilled. In fact, the various writers responsible for this edition had meant to glorify the heroes and use them as symbols of social protest against corruption and injustice. But the 70-chapter version ends differently. Its final chapter tells of the gathering of the heroes in the Hall of Loyalty and Righteousness on Mount Liang, and their proclamation of lofty ideals and grand missions, as seen in the following paragraphs:

Sung Chiang addressed the assembled leaders and impressed upon them the extreme importance of loyalty. He then told them that they were now all bound together and must live and die as one body, and that they must all support him to act according to Heaven's wish.

All the assembled leaders took a solemn oath to observe these conditions and then all swore, “We are all united today, and so we will remain throughout this life. Any one among us who will turn out to be a traitor or coward will be noticed by Heaven and be killed by the sword or lightning and his soul will be banished to Hades forever.” They then pledged each other in wine in which blood had been mixed. So was achieved this great assembly of heroes sworn to unite to uphold justice.²⁴

The textual history of The Water Margin is complex and its authorship especially puzzling. It has been attributed to various writers, including Lo Kuan-chung and Shih Nai-an. The attribution to Lo has never been firmly established, and the identity of Shih has been seriously questioned. Since the book is essentially a compilation of different hands at different times, a knowledge of its authorship is not crucial to its appreciation.

A Western reader may be disturbed by the novel's many inherent flaws, such as authorial digressions, contradictory views, stock phrases, gratuitous sadistic activities, narrative inconsistencies, loose structure, and episodes with little bearing on its central themes. He may also be disturbed by its large cast of characters, many of whom are undeveloped or stereotyped. Most are either heroes or villains, and the heroes' actions often contradict their declared sense of justice and righteousness.

In considering these apparent weaknesses, however, one should not evaluate The Water Margin by the same standards as he would in dealing with a modern novel. A proper appreciation of The Water Margin requires the consideration of its long evolutionary process, its multiple authors, and its folk and oral origins. Its folk origin is such that some scholars suggested that it be approached as a folk epic or saga.²⁵ If one can accept some characteristics of the novel as conventions, one is able to see its strengths in other areas. For example, although most heroes are stereotypes, some are well developed individuals. In addition, the novel is noted for its smooth and expressive colloquial style, exciting episodes, effective dialogue, vivid imagination, limited dependence on historical sources, and realistic descriptions of the common people.

Among the many exciting episodes in the novel, the description of Wu Sung's bare-hand killing of a tiger is outstanding. One of the one hundred and eight heroes of the band, he is intensely loyal to his brother Wu Ta and to his comrades. A man of principle and imbued with a strong sense of justice, he does what he considers to be right and he would rather go to jail or die than to yield. Even though his rough appearance and brute strength may suggest a lack of intelligence, he has enough moral fiber to resist the temptations of his seductive sister-in-law. Violent toward his enemies but generous and loyal to his friends, he is one of the most popular fictional heroes in China. When he is about to cross the Ching-yang Ridge, he is told by the keeper of a small inn, where he stops for food and drinks, that there is a fierce tiger on the Ching-yang Ridge. Though warned not to cross it alone, he proceeds to the mountain ridge after a good meal and a number of drinks. But soon the tiger appears. The following paragraphs describe his encounter with the tiger.

He went a little further, and now felt the effect of the wine. So taking his cudgel in one hand he unloosened his coat with the other hand. Staggering along he entered the forest. He came across a large block of smooth green stone against which he put his cudgel. He then reclined on the stone with the intention of sleeping there. Just then a strong wind sprang up, and he heard a sound among the trees, and at the same moment a large tiger sprang out. With an exclamation he rolled off the stone, seized his cudgel, and slipped to one side of the stone. The tiger was both hungry and thirsty, crouched on the ground, leaped, and seemed to descend out of space. As the tiger sprang forward Wu Sung was startled and covered with a cold sweat, but he dodged by slipping to one side. The tiger immediately turned round and roared like thunder, and the ridge almost quaked.

The tiger's tail was erect and stiff as a poker, and was lashing back and forth in rage. Wu Sung did not keep still, but kept moving about irregularly. In fact, a tiger has only three methods of killing men, a crouch, a leap, and a blow with its tail. If these three fail, the tiger will at once lose all courage or spirit. In such cases it will turn round and give a loud roar. When Wu Sung saw the tiger turning round he seized his cudgel with both hands. Using the utmost of his strength, he whirled it aloft and brought it down with a crash. There was a great noise followed by a fall of leaves and twigs from the dense undergrowth. Wu Sung saw that he had missed the tiger, and simply in his haste had hit the undergrowth. As his long cudgel was broken in half, he threw a part away. The tiger roared again, crouched, and leapt at Wu Sung, who swiftly stepped to one side. The tiger whirled round and came just in front of Wu Sung and planted its fore paws on the ground. Wu Sung threw the remaining half of the cudgel away, and seized the skin of the tiger's forehead with both hands, and pressed the tiger down on the ground. The tiger struggled to get up, but Wu Sung exerted all his strength and would not let it go the least bit. He kicked it in the eyes. This made the tiger roar and scoop out holes in the yellow soil with its front paws. Wu Sung pressed the tiger's snout into the hole in the ground, and it had to endure this disgrace as it was losing its strength. Wu Sung now grasped the loose skin on the tiger's head in his left hand; taking his right fist he hit the tiger severely. After about seventy blows blood streamed out of the tiger's eyes, mouth, nose, and ears, and the beast lay panting for breath … The body lay in a pool of blood. Using both hands he tried to move it, but he found that it was too heavy. …²⁶

The above and other exploits of Wu Sung vividly presented in The Water Margin have long made him a celebrated folk hero in China.

If The Water Margin is compared with the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, a number of differences become apparent. The Water Margin covers a far shorter period of time than the Romance does. More importantly, The Water Margin's multiple authors of different periods were not interested in historical accuracy but merely in creating a narrative of popular heroes and exciting episodes developed from their own imagination or popular legends. On the other hand, the author of the Romance was seriously interested in historical substance, and his work is essentially a type of popular historical narrative based mainly on the official history of the Three Kingdoms period. Lastly, while The Water Margin may appear more creative than the Romance because of the former's creation of ahistorical characters and fictional episodes, each of the two has its own strengths. One may view The Water Margin as imaginative literature and the Romance as a type of popular history. While The Water Margin is unreliable as history but fascinating as fiction, the Romance appears to be fairly reliable and extremely interesting as a popular history.

In structure the two reveal even more dissimilarities. In contrast to the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, which has a tightly knit internal structure based on the interweaving of narrative strands, The Water Margin is composed of a sequence of cycles, each of which features a different hero. The first seventy chapters of The Water Margin are dominated by eight story cycles centering around eight important heroes, such as Lu Chih-shen, Lin Ch'ung, Wu Sung, and Sung Chiang. This cyclical chain is interspersed with descriptions of raids, rescue missions, and campaigns against the government. But it must be recognized that the system of linked plots is fundamentally a looser form of organization than that of the interweaving of narrative strands. In spite of this weakness in internal structure, the overall pattern of conflict and resolution in The Water Margin seems impressive. The opposing groups in the conflict are the “righteous” fugitives from the law on the one hand and the corrupt, despotic government on the other. In Chapters 1-70, a pattern of confrontation emerges; tensions increase as the number of outlaws grows and their organization strengthens. The group reaches its full strength when the number hits 108. Shortly afterwards, in Chapters 75-80, the government sends T'ung Kuan and Kao Ch'iu on separate occasions to suppress the band, but the band is too strong. It defeats T'ung Kuan twice and Kao Ch'iu thrice. However, in Chapter 82, a resolution of the confrontation is reached, when Sung Chiang surrenders to the government. Meanwhile, the plot continues to unfold. Poetic justice demands that the outlaws score greater and more impressive triumphs. They wage four successful campaigns against various rebel groups. And the final resolution takes places when Sung Chiang himself succumbs to the machinations of Kao Ch'iu and T'ung Kuan.

Even though the Romance has a tightly-knit internal structure of interrelated conflict situations and the interweaving of narrative strands, its overall pattern is comparatively weak because of its emphasis on a disproportionately long period of conflicts among the major parties and its cursory and anticlimactic resolution of the conflicts. On the other hand, while the system of linked-plots gives The Water Margin a relatively weak internal structure, the novel has a strong external pattern achieved through the combination of the following factors: unity of theme, an overall conflict and resolution situation, a geographic focus, and the band's common goals. In short, the Romance has a good internal structure but a weak overall pattern; The Water Margin, weak internally, is strong in its overall pattern. Each novel has its own specific structural features.²⁷

Notwithstanding differences in style, plot and theme, the Romance and The Water Margin marked the coming of age of the Chinese novel. While the former is concerned with a tripolar struggle for power in the last years of the Han dynasty and following Han's collapse, the latter deals mainly with the exploits of a band of Sung outlaws. In the former one finds generals, warlords, strategists and princes guided by Confucian political ideals, and in the latter, outlaws motivated primarily by righteousness and justice. The authors of the two works created different types of popular narrative, but very few later works patterned after them achieved the level of artistry as found in either the Romance or The Water Margin, both landmarks in the development of Chinese prose fiction.

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JOURNEY TO THE WEST AND FLOWERS IN THE MIRROR

A. JOURNEY TO THE WEST (HSI-YU CHI)

Journey to the West has been immensely popular in the West, largely because of the highly readable and abridged translation entitled Monkey by Arthur Waley.²⁸ A complete translation being prepared by Anthony C. Yu²⁹ will no doubt make it even more popular.

This work of comic fantasy recounts the pilgrimage of the famous and revered monk Hsüan-tsang (596-664), also known as Tripitaka, who journeyed to India in the seventh century to bring back 657 items of Buddhist scriptures. Since his return, his pilgrimage had been celebrated and embellished in various accounts, culminating in the famous novel Journey to the West. In the book Tripitaka is accompanied by four animal-disciples of superhuman abilities, including Sun Wu-k'ung, a monkey of magic power, wit, and intelligence (known simply as Monkey in Arthur Waley's version); and Chu Pa-chieh, known as Pigsy, the sensual and slothful pig with an enormous appetite. Their story involves demons of all sorts bent on eating or “cannibalizing” Tripitaka, because his flesh is supposed to confer immortality. He is seized again and again by them and is in turn rescued by his disciples (most often by Monkey), with the assistance of appropriate deities as needed.

Until Hu Shih, inspired by several Ch'ing scholars, established with convincing documentation that Wu Ch'eng-en (ca. 1506-ca. 1582), a mid-Ming poet, writer, and official, was the author of the novel,³⁰ it had often been attributed to Ch'iu Ch'ang-ch'un (fl. 1220), advisor to Genghis Khan, because Ch'iu's travel record bore the same title. Now Hu Shih's attribution has been widely accepted, though a number of scholars remain unconvinced, without being able to suggest other plausible candidates as the author of the novel.

Journey to the West is made up of prose extensively interlaced with original verse. Anthony C. Yu points out some of the most important functions of the verse in the narrative, including that of describing scenery, battles, seasons, and living beings, both human and nonhuman; that of presenting dialogues; and that of providing commentary on the action and the characters.³¹ These inserted poems are integral parts of the total narrative and are by no means intended by the author merely to show off his poetic talent.

The textual history of the Journey to the West,³² like that of The Water Margin, is quite complicated, but unlike the latter, the Journey is essentially the work of a single author. Long before the novel was written, the legend of Tripitaka became popular. In history Tripitaka was a monk of scholarly attainments and prodigious intelligence. He went through a long and hazardous journey to India in quest of Buddhist scriptures, spent the rest of his life in rendering many of these scriptures into Chinese after his return, and eventually established the Mere Ideation School of Buddhism. His fascinating journey inspired the growth of the legend of Tripitaka. Numerous stories, plays, and at least one novel about his journey, his companions, and the hardships they encountered during the journey were created. In fact, the popularity of the Tripitaka legend rivaled that of The Water Margin legend. It was Wu Ch'eng-en who combined these legends, oral tales, written stories, and Yüan plays into a unified work of one hundred chapters. The earliest extant version of Journey to the West, the Shih-te-t'ang edition, to which there were several antecedents, appeared in 1592. During the K'ang-hsi reign (1662-1722), a new edition, which incorporated the legend of Tripitaka's birth and youth into Chapter Nine, was published. Other Ch'ing editions simply added new commentaries but made few significant changes in the text. The popularity of the novel has generated a number of sequels and supplements, the best-known of which is the Hsi-yu pu (A Supplement to Journey to the West), noted for its description of subtle dream psychology.

Journey to the West tells mainly the story of Monkey and gives some details about Tripitaka and his two other protectors, Pigsy and Sandy. The first seven chapters describe the birth of Monkey, his acquisition of immortality and magic power, and his final subjugation by Buddha; Chapter Eight concentrates on Buddha's intentions to impart the Buddhist canon to the Chinese and the journey of Kuan-yin to the land of the East to look for a proper scripture pilgrim to bring the sutras from India to the East; Chapter Nine gives the family story of Tripitaka; the remaining chapters describe the journey itself and the pilgrims' encounters with demons, monsters, animal spirits, and gods in disguise. The last three chapters describe the successful completion of the journey, the audience of the pilgrims with Buddha, their return with scriptures to the T'ang capital Ch'ang-an, and the final canonization of the pilgrims.

Throughout the novel Monkey is the most important figure, a symbol of wisdom, intelligence, and resourcefulness. Hatched from a stone egg which for aeons has been absorbing the essences of Heaven and Earth, the Sun and the Moon, Monkey soon becomes king of his tribe. From a great Taoist immortal, he acquires magic powers and superhuman abilities. He terrorizes the Dragon Kings, forces the King of Hell to erase his name from the Register of the Dead, and literally raises hell in Heaven until the Jade Emperor grants his demand that he be given the title of Great Sage, the Equal of Heaven. He is finally conquered by Buddha himself and imprisoned under a fiery mountain, to be released five hundred years later to serve as Tripitaka's disciple and protector. Chapter one gives the following account of his origin:

Beyond the ocean there was a country named Ao-lai. It was near a great ocean in the midst of which was located the famous Flower-Fruit Mountain. This mountain, which constituted the chief range of the Ten Islets and formed the origin of the Three Islands, came into being after the creation of the world. …

There was on top of that very mountain an immortal stone, which measured thirty-six feet and five inches in height and twenty-four feet in circumference. The height of thirty-six feet and five inches corresponded to the three hundred and sixty-five cyclical degrees, while the circumference of twenty-four feet corresponded to the twenty-four solar items of the Calendar. On the stone were also nine perforations and eight holes, which corresponded to the Palaces of the Nine Constellations and the Eight Trigrams. Though it lacked the shading of trees on all sides, it was accompanied by epidendrums on the left and right. Since the creation of the world, it had been nourished for a long period by the seeds of heaven and earth and by the essences of the sun and the moon until it became pregnant with a divine embryo. One day, it split open, giving birth to a stone egg about the size of a playing ball. Exposed to the wind, it was transformed into a stone monkey endowed with fully developed features and limbs. Having learned at once to climb and run, this monkey also bowed to the four quarters, while two beams of golden light flashed from his eyes to reach even the Palace of the Pole Star. …

That monkey in the mountain was able to walk, run, and leap about; he fed on grass and shrubs, drank from the brooks and streams, gathered mountain flowers, and searched out fruits from trees. He made his companions the tiger, the wolf, and the leopard; he befriended the civet and the deer, and he called the gibbon and the baboon his kin. At night he slept beneath stony ridges, and in the morning he sauntered about the caves and the peaks. Truly, “in the mountain there is no end or beginning; the cold ceases but the year is unknown.” …

The handsome Monkey King had enjoyed this insouciant existence for about three or five hundred years when one day, while feasting with the rest of the monkeys, he suddenly grew sad and let fall a few tears. Alarmed, the monkeys surrounding him bowed down and asked, “What is disturbing the Great King?” The Monkey King replied, “Though I am very happy at the moment, I am a little concerned about the future. Hence, my vexation.” The monkeys all said with laughter, “The Great King indeed does not know contentment! Here we are daily having a banquet on an immortal mountain of a blessed land, in an ancient cave of a divine continent. We are neither subjects of the unicorn or the phoenix, nor are we governed by the rulers of mankind. Such independence and comfort are immeasurable blessings. Why, then, does he trouble himself with worry about the future?” The Monkey King said, “Though we are not subject to the laws of man today, nor need we be threatened by the rule of any bird or beast, old age and physical decay in the future will disclose the secret sovereignty of Yama, King of the Underworld. If we die, would we not have lived in vain, not being able to be ranked forever among the heavenly beings?”³³

The preceding passages vividly describe Monkey's origin and hints of his uniqueness. He is known for his seventy-two transformations, magic powers, and prodigious strength, but he has his limitations. For instance, he tells Buddha that he wants to replace the Jade Emperor on his throne by enumerating his wonderful attributes, his seventy-two transformations, his eighty-four thousand hairs each capable of transforming into a likeness of himself with equal powers, and finally his ability to travel 108,000 miles in one somersault. Buddha smiles at him and wagers that if Monkey could jump out of his hand, he would ask the Jade Emperor to abdicate in his favor.

“Of course, I can,” Monkey said. He then jumped on Buddha's right palm held out to him and started to somersault until he came to five pink columns so high that their tops were lost in the clouds. “This must be the edge of the universe,” he said to himself. “I must leave an inscription here to prove that I have been here.” So, plucking a hair from his body, he changed it into a writing brush and wrote on the middle column: “The Great Sage, Equal of Heaven, was here.” He also left his mark on the column in the manner of dogs. Then he somersaulted back, jumped off Buddha's palm, saying, “Now ask the Jade Emperor to abdicate in favor of me.”

“But, my little monkey, you never left my palm,” Buddha said.

“Of course, I did,” Monkey said. He then offered to take Buddha to the edge of the universe to prove it.

“We need not go to the edge of the universe for evidence,” Buddha said. “Look here and see for yourself.” Buddha opened his right hand and pointed to his second finger with his left, and there was Monkey's own handwriting, not yet dry.

“And if that does not satisfy you, shameless Monkey, smell this!” And so saying, he thrust his hand under Monkey's nose.³⁴

Monkey is baffled but decides to try again. He jumps on Buddha's palm, but before he has time to somersault, Buddha hurls him to the earth and imprisons him under a mountain in a desert on the way to the Western paradise.

Monkey is often portrayed as an interesting and humorous being in contrast to the humorless Tripitaka. The following excerpt well illustrates Monkey's sly humor.

In the meantime, Monkey had reached Kuan-P'ou. Changing himself into Erh Lang, he went into the latter's temple, where the attendants knelt and kowtowed to him in greeting. Monkey sat down in Erh Lang's chair and said, “Let me see what the offerings have been like since I went away.” The attendants brought him the three sacrificial beasts promised by Li Hu. “I can't remember what we did for him, but let's hope that he did not offer these things for nothing. And what else?” The attendant showed him a new silken robe given by Chang Lung. “We have more need for a suit of armor,” Monkey said, to the mystification of the attendants. “Anything else?”

“That's all,” the attendants answered, “but many petitions have come in.”

Monkey looked through the list: some asked for sons, some for relief from illness, some for money, and some for general blessings. The gifts promised in return varied according to the nature of the requests. Monkey was reading through the list with great interest and thinking to himself how profitable it was to be a templed deity when the real Erh Lang appeared before the temple.

“Have you seen Sun the Great Sage [Monkey]?” Erh Lang asked one of the guards, but the latter stared at him in astonishment and then pointed inside. He immediately recognized Monkey seated in Erh Lang's throne. The latter rose and said to Erh Lang, “This temple is mine now, so be a good boy and run along.”³⁵

If an allegorical interpretation is adopted, the journey itself may be seen as a quest for spiritual fulfillment, and the demons and monsters encountered on the journey as evil desires that attack man. Upon completing their mission and returning to Ch'ang-an, Tripitaka shows no signs of spiritual improvement because he has done little to improve his spirituality. But as a reward, Tripitaka is appointed by the Tathāgata to be Buddha, with the title “Buddha of Precocious Merit”; Monkey is promoted to be the “Buddha Victorious in Strife”; Pigsy to be Cleanser of the Altar; Sandy to the rank of an Arhat with the title “Golden Bodied Arhat”; and the white horse that carried Tripitaka to the West and back becomes one of the eight senior Heavenly Dragons. The story ends as follows:

The four pilgrims all kowtowed their thanks, and the white horse also made sign of its gratitude. Then by Buddha's order, the white horse was led to the back of the Holy Mountain, to the side of the Pool of Magic Dragons, into the middle of which it was pushed with a splash. After a short while, it began to stretch itself and its coat began to change in appearance. It grew horns upon its head and its body became covered with golden scales, while on its cheeks silver whiskers grew. Its whole form was suffused with magic tints, its four claws rested on prophetic clouds; it soared up out of the pool, wreathed its way in at the gate of the Palace, and circled about the Pillar that supports Heaven. All the Buddhas burst into exclamations of wonder at this miracle that the Tathāgata had wrought.

“Master,” Monkey said to Tripitaka, “I'm now a Buddha, the same as you. It's not fair that I should still wear this golden fillet, so that if you choose to recite your spell, you could still plague me. Make haste and say the ‘Loosing of the Fillet’ spell, so that I may get it off and smash it to bits. Otherwise the Bodhisattva may use it to play her jokes on anyone else.” “It was put upon you,” said Tripitaka, “at a time when you needed to be kept in hand. Now that you are Buddha, it has vanished of its own accord. Feel your head and you'll see.” Monkey put his hand to his head. What Tripitaka had said was quite true. The fillet was not there.

The promotion of the five saints took place in the presence of all the spirits of Heaven—Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, Arhats, monks, local deities and Guardian Spirits. While the newcomes took their appointed places in the great assembly, multitudinous voices rose in prayer: “Praise to the Buddha of the Past, Praise to Bhaishajya, Praise to Sākyamuni …” and so on through all the Buddhas, till finally for the first time they chanted “Praise to the Buddha of Precocious Merit, Praise to the Buddha Victorious in Strife.” Next they invoked the names of all the Bodhisattvas, Kuan-yin, Mahāsthāmprāpta, Manjuśri, Samantabhadra and the rest, ending with “Praise to the Cleanser of the Altar, praise to the Golden Bodied Arhat, praise to the Heavenly Dragon.”³⁶

The excerpt cited well illustrates the author's fertile imagination and good humor. But the novel is more than delightful entertainment; it is a very complex work. For instance, modern Western scholars emphasize its diverse modes of myth, allegory, and comedy; traditional Chinese commentators stress its allegorical meaning; and modern Chinese scholars, notably Hu Shih, reject the allegorical approach and emphasize its satiric and comic elements. While Hu Shih praises the novel as “a book of good humor, profound nonsense, good-natured satire and delightful entertainment,”³⁷ Chinese Communist scholars have attached more importance to its political and social satire. In view of its complexity, the novel should be analyzed through a variety of approaches,³⁸ and the intricate connections between its diverse modes should also be explored.

Because of its heroic mission and inclusion of heroic verse, Journey to the West is often believed to contain epic quality. Some even compare it with the Odyssey.³⁹ Despite its obvious epic dimensions, such as the heroic traits in Monkey's action and the thematic affinity of Tripitaka's mission to the quest motifs in Western epics, it lacks, as pointed out by Anthony C. Yu, such important features as “the hero's withdrawal, his subsequent return in disguise, the climactic experience of recognition and reunion with loved ones,”⁴⁰ which are usually found in Western epics.

If an allegorical interpretation is adopted, Journey to the West may be said to allegorize the reality of human life. Pigsy stands for human appetite and brute strength; Monkey, as mind or intelligence; Tripitaka, selfish and spiritually blind, as the average man in quest of salvation; and the demons and monsters as dangers and hardships in life.⁴¹ With the major characters representating different aspects of human nature, the entire journey may be viewed as man's spiritual quest for Buddhist salvation. However, it must be pointed out that the novel is not entirely Buddhist-oriented. Although it endorses certain ideas or teachings of Buddhism, it often singles out Tripitaka as an object of satire. It also mercilessly ridicules many Taoist priests. Nor does the novel wholeheartedly endorse Confucianism; in fact, it often attacks certain Confucian ideals and institutions and satirizes Confucian bureaucracy and its authority. Even though it does reflect certain ideas of each of the three schools (Buddhism, Taoism, and Confucianism), the novel cannot be interpreted as an elucidation of any one of them. While some scholars argue that its main story is essentially Buddhist in nature, one cannot say that it is definitely a Buddhist novel, considering the inclusion of certain Taoist and Confucian elements in the book. On the whole, Journey to the West is complex and reflects diverse religious and philosophical views.

There are a number of other approaches. With its inclusion of many comic elements, the novel can be read as a comedy about man's absurdity and his insatiable appetite.⁴² Tripitaka, concerned only with his own physical comfort and unable to attain Buddhist ideals, is an interesting comic figure, and Pigsy is undoubtedly the author's supreme comic creation.⁴³ Moreover, the author's mockery extends to almost every character in the book.⁴⁴ One may see the novel as a work of social criticism or even as a representation of a socio-political struggle, as suggested by Communist critics, but its satire is far more obvious than either social criticism or political commentary. For instance, the court of the Jade Emperor is a reflection of the human bureaucracy; the Jade Emperor is a helpless puppet swayed by his advisors; Tripitaka is a gullible creature who often listens to Pigsy's slander of Monkey and sends Monkey into exile or punishes him through the recitation of a magic formula which gives Monkey a splitting headache. Tripitaka is thus a sort of despotic ruler, Pigsy, a slanderer, and Monkey, a loyal and capable minister. The novel as a whole can be read as a good-natured satire on human foibles and bureaucratic follies and mismanagement.

Journey to the West excels in character portrayals. The author's imaginative powers enabled him to transform the historical Tripitaka into a unique fictional character. While the historical Tripitaka was a man of courage, tact, intelligence, and intellectual ability, his fictional counterpart is portrayed as an ordinary mortal, cowardly, tactless, humorless, slow in intelligence, and preoccupied with his own welfare and safety. Too much like the average man, he is unable to resist temptation and gains little moral insight or spiritual improvement from the journey. Unlike Monkey, who is able to develop a detachment from worldly things, Tripitaka remains obsessed with love and compassion and is thus enslaved by his senses.⁴⁵ On the other hand, Monkey provides a sharp contrast to Tripitaka. Loyal, intelligent, resourceful, and courageous, he is not only the protector but often the instructor of Tripitaka as well; he is the real hero in the novel. His initial quest for immortality is also one for spiritual understanding; in the end, he achieves a superior detachment from the enslavement of human senses. His acts throughout the novel suggest a defiance of established authority and a quest for knowledge and power.⁴⁶ Though he has the body of a monkey, he represents the best of human qualities. If Monkey represents intelligence, Pigsy symbolizes man's gross sensual appetites. Jealous, lazy, cowardly, and stupid, he is a symbol of every common man who seeks to fulfill his mundane goals.⁴⁷ Despite his impressive size and strength, he has no ambition beyond good food and sex. Tripitaka, Monkey, and Pigsy are supreme fictional creations, comparable to Chia Pao-yü, Faust, Hamlet, Don Quixote, and other famous literary characters.

Scholars have long been divided in their interpretations of Journey to the West. Ch'ing commentators made great efforts to extract profound religious and philosophical significance from the novel. A number of Western critics adopted some of the approaches of the Ch'ing scholars and went even farther. For instance, Timothy Richard suggested that Journey is not merely an epic, a book on travel, cosmogony, astrology, anthropology, comparative religion, and so on but is a little of all these. He pointed out that the book is filled with moral and religious purposes, that it even anticipates the modern theory of evolution (from monkey to man and from man to Buddha), and that its author was something of a Christian because he believed in neither Confucianism nor Taoism and Buddhism but something superior to all three.⁴⁸ In view of some of the far-fetched and excessive allegorical interpretations, Hu Shih proposed, therefore, to free Journey to the West from all kinds of allegorical interpretations⁴⁹ and stressed its elements of comedy, humor, and satire.

Monkey is the main hero in the novel and all the other characters only serve as his foils. Therefore, the novel could probably be read also as Wu Ch'eng-en's autobiography in heavy disguise. For was he not a gifted literocrat who served only briefly as a lowly sub-magistrate? And did not Monkey, the Great Sage, Equal of Heaven, have to endure the humiliation of serving as a common groom under the title of Curator of the Equestrian Galleries?

Journey to the West, which initiated the tradition of scholar-novelists, has many obvious strengths. Its author demonstrates a gift for comedy, satire, and allegory, and he makes the story secondary in importance to theme and characterization. Distinguished for its wit, humor, and wide-ranging fantasy, the novel presents thrilling adventures and fascinating supernatural tales; its complex themes and modes, its inclusion of both fantasy and realism, and its vivid and yet subtle characterizations are impressive achievements. What is remarkable is not only the author's fertile imagination and creative power but also his talent and ability in humanizing the gods and monsters and in presenting them as vain, gullible creatures that can be flattered, cajoled, and even hoodwinked.

However, as a work of literary art, the novel has its shortcomings. Like many other Chinese novels, it is crowded with stereotyped characters and repetitive episodes, some of which tend to weaken its unity. Also, some of the episodic incidents in Chapters 13-100, are tedious. Hence, Arthur Waley's decision to translate only a few of the forty-odd adventures in the latter half of the book has made it less tiresome to the Western reader.

Notes

1. C. H. Brewitt-Taylor, tr., Romance of the Three Kingdoms (Shanghai: Kelly & Walsh, 1925; reprint ed., Rutland, Vt.: Charles E. Tuttle, 1959). Moss Roberts has published an abridged translation, Three Kingdoms: China's Epic Drama (New York: Pantheon Books, 1976).

2. For a biography of Lo Kuan-chung, see Winston L. Y. Yang, “Lo Kuan-chung,” in L. Carrington Goodrich and Chaoying Fang, eds., Dictionary of Ming Biography, 1368-1644 (New York: Columbia Univ. Press, 1976), Vol. I, pp. 978-980.

3. For a study of Mao's version of the Romance and his commentary on the novel, see Winston L. Y. Yang, Mao Tung-kang (Boston: Twayne Publishers, forthcoming).

4. Hu Shih, “San-kuo chih yen-i hsü” (“Preface to the Romance of the Three Kingdoms”), in Hu Shih, Hu Shih wen-ts'un (Collected Essays of Hu Shih) (Reprint ed. Taipei: Yüan-tung t'u-shu kung-ssu, 1953), Vol. II, p. 468.

5. For a study of the use of the Chronicle as a source of the Romance, see Winston L. Y. Yang, “The Use of the San-kuo chih as a Source of the San-kuo chih yen-i” (Ph.D. Dissertation. Stanford: Stanford Univ., 1971).

6. Winston L. Y. Yang, “The Use of the San-kuo chih as a Source of the San-kuo chih yen-i,” pp. 280-281.

7. Lo Kuan-chung, San-kuo yen-i (Romance of the Three Kingdoms) (Peking: Tso-chia ch'u-pan-she, 1959), Vol. I, p. 3.

8. Ibid.

9. Ibid., p. 613.

10. Ibid., p. 623.

11. C. T. Hsia discusses Yüan Shao's human weaknesses in his The Classic Chinese Novel: A Critical Introduction (New York: Columbia Univ. Press, 1968), p. 71.

12. Lo Kuan-chung, San-kuo yen-i, p. 256.

13. Ibid., p. 449.

14. Ibid., p. 840.

15. Ibid., p. 841.

16. Ibid., p. 842.

17. Ibid., p. 843.

18. C. T. Hsia, The Classic Chinese Novel, p. 62.

19. Introduction to C. H. Brewitt-Taylor, tr., Romance of the Three Kingdoms (Reprint ed.), Vol. I, p. xi.

20. Ibid., pp. xi-xii.

21. Animate Illusions: Explorations of Narrative Structure (Lincoln: Univ. of Nebraska Press, 1974), p. 7.

22. This title was adopted by J. H. Jackson in his translation, The Water Margin (Shanghai: Commercial Press, 1937; reprint ed., Cambridge, Mass.: C& T Co., 1976).

23. Pearl Buck, tr., All Men Are Brothers (New York: John Day, 1937; New York: Grove Press, 1957).

24. J. H. Jackson, tr., The Water Margin (Reprint ed.), pp. 916-917.

25. See, for instance, James J. Y. Liu, The Chinese Knight-Errant (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1967), p. 111.

26. J. H. Jackson, tr., The Water Margin, pp. 307-308.

27. For a more detailed discussion of the structure of the two novels, see Peter Li, “Narrative Patterns in San-kuo and Shui-hu,” in Andrew H. Plaks, ed., Chinese Narrative: Critical and Theoretical Essays (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, forthcoming).

28. Arthur Waley, tr., Monkey (New York: Grove Press, 1958).

29. The first of Anthony C. Yu's projected four-volume complete translation entitled The Journey to the West was published by the University of Chicago Press in 1977.

30. Hu Shih's views on the authorship of the novel are presented in his article, “Hsi-yu chi k'ao-cheng” (A Study of the Journey to the West), in Hu Shih wen-ts'un (Collected Essays of Hu Shih) (Reprint ed. Taipei: Yüan-tung t'u-shu kung-ssu, 1953), Vol. II, pp. 354-390.

31. Anthony C. Yu, tr., The Journey to the West (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1977), Vol. I, p. 24.

32. For a discussion of the text and authorship of the novel, see Anthony C. Yu's introduction to his translation, The Journey to the West, pp. 13-21. The introduction also contains extensive discussions of allegory and religious themes in the novel.

33. Anthony C. Yu, tr., The Journey to the West, pp. 66-73.

34. Chi-chen Wang, tr., “The Monkey King,” in George Kao, ed., Chinese Wit and Humor (Reprint ed. New York: Sterling Publishing Co., 1974), pp. 124-125.

35. Ibid., p. 122.

36. Arthur Waley, tr., Monkey, pp. 304-305.

37. Ibid., p. 5.

38. Recent studies of the various elements in the novel include the following: C. T. Hsia, “Journey to the West,” in his The Classic Chinese Novel: A Critical Introduction (New York: Columbia Univ. Press, 1968), pp. 115-164; Anthony C. Yu, “Heroic Verse and Heroic Mission: Dimensions of the Epic in the Hsi-yu chi,” JAS, 31 (1972), pp. 879-897; Andrew H. Plaks, “Allegory in Hsi-yu chi and Hung-lou Meng,” in Andrew H. Plaks, ed., Chinese Narrative: Critical and Theoretical Essays (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, forthcoming); James S. Fu, The Mythic and the Comic Aspects of the Quest: Hsi-yu chi as Seen through Don Quixote and Huckleberry Finn (Singapore: Singapore Univ. Press, 1977); and Karl S. Y. Kao, “An Archetypal Approach to Hsi-yu chi,” TR [Tam Kang Review], 5 No. 2 (Oct. 1972), pp. 63-97.

39. See, for instance, Harriet Dye, “Notes for a Comparison of the Odyssey and Monkey,” LEW [Literature East and West], 8 (1964), pp. 14-18.

40. Anthony C. Yu, “Heroic Verse and Heroic Mission,” p. 892.

41. For a thoughtful interpretation of the allegorical meanings of these characters, see C. T. Hsia, The Classic Chinese Novel, pp. 115-164.

42. Ibid., pp. 147-155. Cf. James S. Fu, The Mythic and the Comic Aspects of the Quest. Fu points out that the novel is “grotesque” as it represents “the mythically comic” in structure, and that the stories of the questers all follow the mythic pattern of the self striving for everlasting life.

43. C. T. Hsia, The Classic Chinese Novel, pp. 149-164. Hsia offers an interesting analysis of Pigsy as a comic and allegorical character.

44. Ibid., p. 147.

45. C. T. Hsia's analysis of the historical and fictional Tripitaka deserves attention. See his The Classic Chinese Novel, pp. 125-130.

46. Ibid., p. 133.

47. Ibid., p. 164.

48. Timothy Richard, tr., Mission to Heaven (Shanghai, 1913).

49. Arthur Waley, tr., Monkey, p. 5.