# San Kuo/Volume 2/Chapter 105

CHAPTER CV.
The Plan of the Silken Bag; the Bronze Statue with the Dew Bowl.
Yang I sent forward a man to find out what force this was that stood in his way, and the scout returned to say they were soldiers of Shu led by Wei Yen. Wei had burned the wooden roads and now barred the way.
Then said Yang, “Just before his death the late minister foretold that this man would one day turn traitor, and here it has come to pass. I did not expect to meet it thus, but now our road of retreat is cut, and what is to be done?”
Then replied Fei I, “He certainly has slandered us to the Emperor and said that we were rebelling, and therefore he has destroyed the wooden roads in order to prevent our progress. First, therefore, we must memorialise the truth about him and then plan his destruction.”
Chiang Wei said, “I know a by-way hereabout that will lead us round to the rear of these covered roads. True it is precipitous and dangerous, but it will take us to our destination. It is called the Ch‘ashan Path.”
So they prepared a memorial and turned off in order to follow the narrow mountain road.
Meanwhile the King of Shu was troubled; he lost his appetite and was sleepless. Then he dreamed that the hill that protected his capital was riven and fell. This dream troubled him till morning, when he called in his officers of all ranks to ask them to interpret his vision.
When he had related his dream, Ch‘iao Chou stood forth and said, “I saw a large red star fall yesternight; surely it forebodes a misfortune to the king or to his First Minister. Your Majesty’s dream corresponds to what I saw.”
The king’s anxiety increased. Presently Li Fu returned and was summoned into the king’s presence. He bowed his head and wept, saying, “The Prime Minister is dead.”
He repeated Chuko’s last messages and told all that he knew. The king was overcome with great sorrow, and wailed, crying, “Heaven smites me!” and he fell over and lay upon his couch. They led him within to the inner chambers, and when his Consort heard the sad tidings she also wailed without ceasing. And all the officers were distressed and wept, and the common people showed their grief.
​The king was deeply affected, and for many days could hold no Court. And while thus prostrate with grief they told him that Wei Yen had sent up a memorial charging Yang I with rebellion. The astounded courtiers went to the king’s chamber to talk over this thing, and his Consort was also there. The memorial was read aloud. It was much like this:—
“I, thy Minister and General, Wei Yen, 'Corrector of the West' and Marquis Chêng, humbly and with bowed head write that Yang I has assumed command of the army and is in rebellion. He has made off with the coffin of the late Prime Minister and wishes to lead enemies within our borders. As a precaution, and to hinder his progress, I have burned the covered ways and now report these matters.”
The Latter Ruler said, “Wei Yen is a valiant warrior and could easily have overcome Yang I; why then did he destroy the covered ways?”
Wu, the T‘ai-hou, said, “The late Emperor used to say that K‘ung-ming knew that treachery lurked in the heart of Wei Yen, and he wished to put him to death; he only spared him because of his valour. We should not believe too readily this tale of his that Yang I has rebelled. Yang I is a scholar, and the late Prime Minister placed him in a position of great responsibility, thereby proving that he trusted him and valued him. If this statement is true, surely Yang would have gone over to Wei. Nothing should be done without due meditation.”
As they were discussing this matter, an urgent memorial came from Yang I, and opening it, they read:—
“I, Yang I, leader of the retreating army, humbly and with trepidation, present this memorial. In his last moments the late Prime Minister made over to me the charge of the great emprise, and bade me carry out his plan without change. I have respected his charge. I ordered Wei Yen to command the rear-guard with Chiang Wei as his second. But Wei Yen refused obedience and led away his own army into Hanchung. Then he burned the covered ways, tried to steal away the body of the late Commander-in-chief and behaved altogether unseemly. His rebellion came upon me suddenly and unexpectedly. I send this memorial in haste.”
The Empress Dowager listened to the end. Then, turning to the nobles, she said, “What is your opinion now?”
Chiang Wan replied, “Yang I is hasty and intolerant, but he has rendered great services in supplying the army. He has long been a trusted colleague of the late Prime Minister, who, being near his end, entrusted to him the conduct of affairs. Certainly he is no rebel. On the other hand, Wei Yen is bold and ambitious and thinks himself everybody’s superior. Yang I is the only one who has openly been of different opinion, and hence Wei hates him. When he saw Yang placed over his head in command of the army he refused his support. Then ​he burned the covered ways in order to cut off Yang’s retreat, and maligned him, hoping to bring about his fall. I am ready to guarantee Yang’s fealty to the extent of my whole house, but I would not answer for Wei Yen.”
Tung Yün followed, “Wei Yen has always been conceited and discontented. His mouth was full of hate and resentment, and only fear of the late Prime Minister held him in check. The minister’s death gave him his opportunity, and he turned traitor. This is certainly the true state of the case. Yang I is able, and his employment by the late minister is proof of his loyalty.”
“If this is true and Wei is really a rebel, what should be done?” asked the king.
“I think the late minister has framed some scheme by which to get rid of Wei Yen. If Yang had not felt secure he would scarcely have set out to return through the valleys. Your Majesty may feel sure that Wei will fall into some trap. We have received, almost at the same time, two memorials from two men, each bringing against the other a charge of rebellion. Let us wait.”
Just then Fei I arrived. He was summoned into the royal presence and told the story of Wei Yen’s revolt.
The king replied, “In that case I should do well to send Tung Yün with temporary authority to clear up the situation and attempt to persuade Wei with kind words.”
So Tung Yün left on this mission. At this time Wei Yen was camped at Nanku, which was a commanding position. He thought his plan was succeeding well. It had not occurred to him that Yang and Chiang could get past him by any by-way. On the other hand, Yang, thinking that Hanchung was lost, sent Ho P‘ing with three companies on in front while he followed with the coffin.
When this little army had got to the rear of Wei’s position they announced their presence with rolling drums. The scouts quickly told Wei, who at once armed himself, took his sword and rode out to confront Ho P‘ing. When both sides were arrayed Ho rode to the front and began to revile his opponent.
“Where is that rebel Wei Yen?” cried Ho.
“You aided that traitor Yang,” cried Wei, no way backward with his tongue; “how dare you abuse me?”
Ho waxed more indignant. “You rebelled immediately after the late chief’s death, before even his body was cold. How could you?”
Then shaking his whip at the followers of Wei, he cried, “And you soldiers are Hsich‘uan men. Your fathers and mothers, wives and children and your friends are still in the land. Were you treated unkindly that you have joined a traitor and aid his wicked schemes? You ought to have ​returned home and waited quietly the rewards that would have been yours.”
The soldiers were touched by his words; they cheered, and more than a half ran away.
Wei was now raging. He whirled up his sword and galloped forward straight for Ho P‘ing, who went to meet him with his spear ready. They fought several bouts, and then Ho rode away as if defeated. Wei followed, but Ho’s men began to shoot and Wei was driven backward. As he got near his own men he saw many captains leaving their companies and going away. He rode after them and cut some of them down. But this did not stay the movement; they continued to go. The only steady portion of his own army was that commanded by Ma Tai. They stood their ground.
“Will you really help me?” said Wei Yen. “I will surely remember you in the day of success.”
The two then went in pursuit of Ho P‘ing, who fled before them. However, it was soon evident that Ho was not to be overtaken, and the pursuers halted. Wei mustered his now small force.
“What if we go over to Wei?” said he.
“I think your words unwise,” said Ma. “Why should we join anyone? A really strong man would try to carve out his own fortune and not be ready to crook the knee to another. You are able enough and brave enough to be more than a match for any man in the west. No one would care to stand up to you. I pledge myself to go with you to the seizure of Hanchung, and thence we will attack the west.”
So they marched together toward Nanchêng, where was Chiang Wei. From the bridge he saw their approach and marked their proud, martial look. He ordered the drawbridge to be raised and sent to tell his colleague, Yang I.
As they drew near, both Wei and Ma shouted out, “Surrender!”
In spite of the smallness of their following, Chiang Wei felt that Ma Tai acting with Wei Yen was a dangerous combination, and he wanted the advice of Yang.
“How shall we repel them?” asked he.
Yang replied, “Just before his death the minister gave me a silken bag, which he said I was to open when Wei’s mutiny reached a critical point. It contains a plan to rid ourselves of this traitor, and it seems that now is the moment to see what should be done.”
So he opened the bag and drew forth the letter it held. On the cover he read, “To be opened when Wei Yen is actually arrayed opposite you.”
Said Chiang, “As this has all been arranged for I had better go out, and when his line is formed then you can come forth.”
​Chiang donned his armour, took his spear and rode out, with three companies. They marched out of the city gates with the drums beating. The array completed, Chiang took his place under the great standard and opened with a volley of abuse.
“Rebel Wei, the late minister never harmed you; why have you turned traitor?”
Wei Yen reined up, lowered his sword and replied, “Friend Chiang, this is no concern of yours; tell Yang I to come.”
Now Yang was also beneath the standard, but hidden. He opened the letter, and the words therein seemed to please him, for he rode forward blithely. Presently he reined in, pointed to Wei and said, “The minister foresaw your mutiny and bade me be on my guard. Now if you are able thrice to shout, 'Who dares kill me will be a real noble!' I will yield to you the whole of Hanchung.”
Wei Yen laughed. “Listen, you old fool! While K‘ungming lived I feared him somewhat. But he is dead and no one dares stand before me. I will not only shout the words thrice, but a myriad times. Why not?”
He raised his sword, shook his bridle and shouted, “Who dares kill me———”
He never finished. Behind him someone shouted savagely, “I dare kill you!” and at the same moment Wei fell dead, cut down by Ma Tai.
This was the dénouement, and was the secret entrusted to Ma Tai just before K‘ung-ming’s death. Wei was to be made to shout these words and slain when he least expected it. Yang knew what was to happen, as it was written in the letter in the silken bag.
A poem says:—
Chuko foresaw when freed from his restraint Wei Yen would traitor prove. The silken bag Contained the plan for his undoing. We see How it succeeded when the moment came.
So before Tung Yün had reached Nanchêng Wei was dead. Ma Tai joined his men to Chiang’s, and Yang wrote another memorial, which he sent to the king. The king issued an edict that as the guilty officer had paid the penalty of his crime he should be honourably buried in consideration of his former services.
Then Yang I continued his journey and in due time arrived at Ch'êngtu with the coffin of the late minister. The king led out a large cavalcade of officers to meet the body at a point twenty li from the walls, and he lifted up his voice and wailed for the dead, and with him wailed all the officers and the common people, so that the sound of mourning filled the whole earth.
​By royal command the body was borne into the city to the dead man’s residence, and his son Chuko Chan was chief mourner.
When next the king held a Court Yang I appeared thereat bound, and confessed he had been in fault. The king bade them loose his bonds and said, “Noble Sir, the coffin would never have reached home but for you. You carried out the orders of the late minister, whereby Wei Yen was destroyed and all was made secure. This was all your doing.”
Yang I was promoted to be the Master of the Centre Army, and Ma Tai was rewarded with the rank that Wei Yen had forfeited.
Yang I presented K‘ung-ming’s testament, which the king read, weeping. By a special edict it was commanded that soothsayers should cast lots and select the site for the tomb of the great servant of the state.
Then Fei said to the king, “When nearing his end the Prime Minister commanded that he should be buried on Tingchün Hill, in open ground, without sacrifice or monument.”
This wish was respected, and they chose a propitious day in the tenth month for the interment, and the king followed in the funeral procession to the grave on the Tingchün Hill. The posthumous title conferred upon Chuko Liang was Chung-wu, “Loyally Martial,” and a temple was built in Mienyang wherein were offered sacrifices at the four seasons.
The poet Tu Fu wrote a poem:—
To Chuko stands a great memorial hall, In cypress shade, without the Chukuan Wall, The steps thereto are bright with new grass springing, Hid 'mongst the branches orioles are singing. Devotion patient met reward; upon The throne, built for the father, sat the son. But ere was compassed all his plans conceived He died; and heroes since for him have ever grieved.
Another poem by the same author says:—
Chuko’s fair fame stands clear to all the world; Among king’s ministers he surely takes Exalted rank; for when the empire cleft In three, a kingdom for his lord he won By subtle craft. Throughout all time he stands A shining figure, clear against the sky. Akin was he to famous I and Lü, Yet stands with chiefs who failed, like Hsiao and Ts‘ao; The fates forbade that Han should be restored, War-worn and weary, yet he steadfast stood.
Evil tidings came to the king on his return to his capital. He heard that Ch'üan Tsung had marched out with a large army from Eastern Wu and camped at the entrance to Pach‘iu. No one knew the object of this expedition.
“Here is Wu breaking their oath just as the Prime Minister has died,” cried the king. “What can we do?”
​Then said Chiang Wan, “My advice is to send Wang P‘ing and Chang I to camp at Yungan as a measure of precaution, while you send an envoy to Wu to announce the death and period of mourning. He can there observe the signs of the times.”
“The envoy must have a ready tongue,” said the king.
One stepped from the ranks of courtiers and offered himself. He was Tsung Yu, a man of Nanyang, an officer in the army. So he was appointed as envoy—and spy.
He set out for Chinling, arrived and was taken in to the king’s presence. When the ceremony of introduction was over and the envoy looked about him, he saw that all were dressed in mourning. But Sun Ch'üan’s countenance wore a look of anger, and he said, “Wu and Shu are one house; why has your master increased the guard at Poti?”
Tsung replied, “It seemed as necessary for the west to increase the garrison there as for the east to have a force at Pach‘iu. Neither is worth asking about.”
“As an envoy you seem no way inferior to Têng Chih,” said the king, smiling. He continued, “When I heard that your Minister Chuko had gone to heaven I wept daily and ordered my officers to wear mourning. I feared that Wei might take the occasion to attack Shu, and so I increased the garrison at Pach‘iu by a legion that I might be able to help you in case of need. That was my sole reason.”
The envoy bowed and thanked the king.
“I would not go back upon the pledge between us,” said the king.
The envoy said, “I have been sent to inform you of the mourning for the late Prime Minister.”
Sun Ch'üan took up a silver barbed arrow and snapped it in twain, saying, “If I betray my oath may my posterity be cut off!”
Then he despatched an envoy with incense and silk and other gifts to be offered in sacrifice to the dead in the land of Shu.
The two envoys took leave of the King of Wu and journeyed to Ch'êngtu, where they went to the King of Shu, and Tsung Yü made a memorial saying, “The King of Wu has wept for our K‘ung-ming and put his court into mourning. The increased garrison at Pach‘iu is intended to safeguard us from Wei, lest they take the occasion of a public sorrow to attack. And in token of his pledge King Sun Ch'üan broke an arrow in twain.”
The king was pleased and rewarded Tsung Yü; moreover, the envoy of Wu was generously treated.
According to the advice in K‘ung-ming’s testament, the Latter Ruler made Chiang Wan Prime Minister, and Chief of the Presidents and General, while Fei I became President ​of a Board, and associate in the Prime Minister’s office. Many other promotions were made, and among them Wu I was made Governor of Hanchung, to keep Wei in check.
Now as Yang I was senior in service to Chiang Wan, who had thus been promoted over his head, and as he considered his services had been inadequately rewarded, he was discontented and spoke resentfully.
He said to Fei I, “If when the minister died I had gone over to Wei, with the whole army, I should not have been thus left out in the cold.”
Fei secretly reported this speech to the king, who was angered and threw Yang into prison. He intended putting him to death, but Chiang Wan reminded him of his services, and he was reprieved. However, he was degraded and sent into Hanchung, where he committed suicide through shame.
In the thirteenth year of the period Chien-Hsing of Shu, the same year being the third year of Ching-Lung of Wu, and the fourth year of Chia-Ho of Wei, there were no military expeditions. However, it is recorded that Ssŭma I was created a Tai-yü, with command over all the forces of Wei, and he departed for Loyang.
King Jui, of Wei, at Hsüch‘ang, made preparations to build himself a palace. At Loyang also he built the Ch‘ao-yang Tien, or “Hall of Sunrise,” and the T‘ai-chi Tien, or “Hall of the Firmament,” both lofty and of beautiful design. He also raised a “Hall Beautiful” and a storeyed building called the “Pavilion of the Pair of Phoenixes.” He also digged a Pool of the Nine Dragons. Over all these works he placed the scholar Ma Chün as superintendent of their building.
Nothing was spared that would contribute to the beauty of these buildings. The beams were carved, the rafters were painted, the walls were of golden bricks and the roofs of green tiles. They glittered and glowed in the sunlight. The most cunning artizans in the world were sought, many thousands of them, and myriads of ordinary workmen laboured day and night on these works for the king’s glory and pleasure. But the strength of the people was spent in this toil, and they cried aloud and complained unceasingly.
Moreover, King Jui issued an edict to carry earth and bring trees for the Garden of the Fragrant Forest, and he employed officers of state in these labours, carrying earth and transporting trees.
The Minister of Education, Tung Hsün, ventured upon a remonstrance, saying, “From the beginning of the period Chien-An, a generation ago, wars have been continuous and destruction rife. Those who have escaped death are few, and these are old and weak. Now indeed it may be that the palaces are too small and enlargement is desired, but would it not be more fitting to choose the building season so as not to ​interfere with cultivation? Your Majesty has many honourable officers wearing beautiful head-dresses, clad in handsome robes, and riding in decorated chariots to distinguish them from the common people. Now these officers are being made to carry timber and bear earth, to sweat and soil their feet. To destroy the glory of the state in order to raise a useless edifice is indescribable folly. The Great Teacher said that princes should treat ministers with polite consideration, ministers should serve princes with loyalty. Without loyalty, without propriety, can a state endure?
“I recognise that these words of mine mean death, but I am of no value, a mere bullock’s hair, and my life is of no importance, as my death would be no loss. I write with tears, bidding the world farewell.
“Thy servant has eight sons, who will be a burden to Your Majesty after his death. I cannot say with what trepidation I await my fate.”
“Has the man no fear of death?” said King Jui, greatly angered.
The courtiers requested the king to put him to death, but he remembered his rectitude and proven loyalty and only degraded him, adding a warning to him to curb his tongue.
A certain Chang Mou, in the service of the Heir Apparent, also ventured upon a remonstrance; he suffered death.
King Jui summoned his Master of Works, Ma Chün, and said, “I have builded high terraces and lofty towers with intent to hold intercourse with shen and hsien, gods and djinn, that I may obtain from them the elixir of life.”
Then Ma replied, “Of the four and twenty emperors of the line of Han only the Emperor Wu enjoyed the throne very long and really attained to old age. That was because he drank of the essence of the brilliancy of the sun and the brightness of the moon. In the palace at Ch‘angan is the Terrace of Cyprus Beams, upon which stands the bronze figure of a man holding up a Dew Bowl, whereinto distils, in the third watch of the night, the vapour from the great constellation of the north. This liquid is called 'Celestial Elixir, or 'Gentle Dew.' If mingled with powdered jade and swallowed it restores youth to the aged.”
“Take men to Ch‘angan immediately and bring hither the bronze figure to set up in the new garden,' said the king.
As the king commanded, they took a multitude of men to Ch‘angan, and they built a scaffold around the figure. Then they attached ropes to haul it down. The terrace being two hundred feet high and the pedestal ten cubits in circumference, Ma Chün bade his men first detach the bronze image. They did so and brought it down. Its eyes were moist as with tears, and the workmen were affrighted.
​Then suddenly beside the terrace sprang up a whirlwind, with dust and pebbles flying thick as a shower of rain, and there was a tempestuous roar as of an earthquake. Down fell the pedestal, and the platform crumbled, crushing many men to death.
However, the bronze figure and the golden bowl were conveyed to Loyang and presented to the king.
“Where is the pedestal?” asked the king.
“It is too heavy to transport,” replied the Master Workman.
“It weighs a million catties.”
Wherefore the king ordered it to be broken up and the metal brought, and from this he caused to be cast two figures which he named Weng, Grandfather, and Chung, Uncle. They were placed outside the gate of the Board of War. A pair of dragons and a pair of phoenixes were also cast, the dragons forty feet high and the birds thirty. These were placed in front of the Hall of Audience.
Moreover, in the Upper Forest Garden the king planted wonderful flowers and rare trees, and he also established a menagerie of strange animals.
Yang Fou remonstrated with the king on these extravagances.
“As is well known, Yao preferred his humble thatched cottage, and all the world enjoyed tranquillity; Yü contented himself with a small modest palace, and all the empire rejoiced. In the days of Yin and Chou the Hall of the ruler stood three feet above the usual height and its area was nine 'mats.' The sage emperors and illustrious kings had no decorated chambers in lofty palaces built with the wealth, and by the strength, of a worn-out and despoiled people. Chieh built a jade chamber and elephant stables; Chou erected a surpassingly beautiful palace and a Deer Terrace. But these lost the empire. Duke Ling, of Ch‘u, built beautiful palaces, but he came to an evil end. The 'First Emperor,' of Ts‘in, made the Afang Palace, but calamity fell upon his son, for the empire rebelled and his house was exterminated in the second generation. All those who have failed to consider the means of the people and given way to sensuous pleasures have perished. Your Majesty has the examples of Yao and Shun, of Yü and T‘ang on the one hand, and the warnings of Chieh and Chou, Ch‘u and Ts‘in on the other. To seek only self-indulgence and think only of fine palaces will surely end in calamity.
“The prince is the first and the head; his ministers are his limbs; they live or die together, they are involved in the same destruction. Though I am timorous, yet if I dared forget my duty, or failed to speak firmly, I should be unable to move Your Majesty. Now I have prepared my coffin and bathed my body ready for the most condign punishment.”
​But the king disregarded this memorial and only urged on the rapid completion of the terrace. Thereon he set up the bronze figure with the golden bowl. Moreover, he sent forth a command to select the most beautiful women in the empire for his garden of delight. Many memorials were presented, but the king heeded them not.
Now the Consort of King Jui was of the Mao family of Honan. In earlier days, when he was a prince, he had loved her exceedingly, and when he succeeded to the throne she became Empress. Later he favoured the Lady Kuo, and his Consort was neglected. The Lady Kuo was beautiful and clever, and the king delighted in her. He neglected state affairs for her society and often spent a month at a time in retirement with her. Every day there was some new gaiety.
In the spring, when the plants in the Fragrant Forest Garden were in flower, the king and his favourite came to the garden to enjoy them and to feast.
“Why not invite the Empress?” asked the Lady Kuo.
“If she came nothing would pass my lips,” replied the king.
He gave orders that his Consort should be kept in ignorance of these rejoicings. But when a month passed without the appearance of the king, his Consort and her ladies went to the Blue Flower Pavilion to find out what was the reason. Hearing music, she asked who was providing it, and they told her that the king and the Lady Kuo were feasting in the grounds.
That day she returned to her palace filled with rage. Next day she went out in her carriage and saw the king on a verandah.
“Yesterday Your Majesty was walking in the north garden, and you had plenty of music too,” said she, laughing.
The king was wroth and sent for all the attendants. He upbraided them with disobedience and put them all to death. The Empress feared and returned to her palace.
Then an edict appeared condemning the Empress to death and raising the Lady Kuo to be Empress in her place. And no officer dared to utter a remonstrance.
Just after this the Governor of Yuchou, Much‘iu Ch‘ien, sent in a memorial saying that Kungsun Yüan of Liaotung had risen in revolt, had assumed the style of “King” and adopted a nien-hao. He had built himself a palace, established an administration of his own and was disturbing the whole north with plundering.
A council met to consider this memorial.
Within, officials labour at ignoble tasks, and mean, Without, the glint of weapons on the border may be seen.
How the insurgents were attacked will be related in the next chapter.