Romance of the Three Kingdoms: 1 (Tuttle Classics)

by Lo Kuan-Chung

  “When they asked him what was his ambition he would only smile and always compared himself with the great scholars Kuan Chung and Yo I. No one could gauge his talents.”

  “How comes it that Yingchou produces so many able men?” said Yuan-te.

  “That old astrologer, Yin K’uei, used to say that the stars clustered thick over the district and so there were many wise men.”

  Now Kuan Yu was there and when he heard K’ungming so highly praised he said,“Kuan Chung and Yo I are the two most famous men mentioned in the ‘Spring and Autumn.’ They well overtopped the rest of mankind. Is it not a little too much to say that K’ungming compares with these two?”

  “In my opinion he should not be compared with these two, but rather with two others,” said Hui.

  “Who are these two?” asked Kuan Yu.

  “One of them is Chiang Tzu-ya, who laid the foundations of the Chou dynasty so firmly that it lasted eight hundred years, and the other Chang Tzu-fang, who made Han glorious for four centuries.”

  Before the surprise called forth by this startling statement had subsided, the visitor walked down the steps and took his leave. Liu Pei would have kept him if he could, but he was obdurate. As he stalked proudly away he threw up his head and said,“Though the ‘Sleeping Dragon’ has found his lord, he has not been born at the right time. It is a pity.”

  “What a wise hermit!” was Liu Pei’s comment.

  Soon after the three brothers set out to find the abode of the wise man. When they drew near the spot they saw a number of peasants in a field hoeing up the weeds, and as they worked they sang:—

  “The earth is a chequered board,

  And the sky hangs over all,

  Under it men are contending,

  Some rise, but a many fall.

  For those who succeed ‘tis well,

  But for those who go under rough.

  There’s a dozing dragon hard by,

  But his sleep is n’t deep enough.”

  They stopped to listen to the song and, calling up one of the peasants, asked who made it.

  “It was made by Master ‘Sleeping Dragon,’” said the labourer.

  “Then he lives hereabout. Where?”

  “South of this hill there is a ridge called The Sleeping Dragon and close by is a sparse wood. In it stands a modest cottage. That is where Master Chuko takes his repose.”

  Yuan-te thanked him and the party rode on. Soon they came to the ridge, most aptly named, for indeed it lay wrapped in an atmosphere of calm beauty.

  A poet wrote of it thus:—

  Not far from Hsiangyang’s massive walls

  There stands, clear cut against the sky,

  A lofty ridge, and at its foot

  A gentle stream goes gliding by.

  The contour, curving up and down,

  Although by resting cloud its marred,

  Arrests the eye; and here and there

  The flank by waterfalls is scarred.

  There, like a sleeping dragon coiled,

  Or phoenix hid among thick pines,

  You see, secure from prying eyes,

  A cot, reed-built on rustic lines.

  The rough-joined doors, unshed by the wind,

  Swing idly open and disclose

  The greatest genius of the world

  Enjoying still his calm repose.

  The air is full of woodland scents,

  Around are hedgerows trim and green,

  Close-growing intercrossed bamboos

  Replace the painted doorway screen.

  But look within and books you see

  By every couch, near every chair;

  And you may guess that common men

  Are very seldom welcomed there.

  The hut seems far from human ken,

  So far, one might expect to find

  Wild forest denizens there, trained

  To serve in place of human kind.

  Without a hoary crane might stand

  As warden of the outer gate;

  Within a long-armed gibbon come

  To offer fruit upon a plate.

  But enter; there refinement reigns;

  Brocaded silk the lutes protect,

  And burnished weapons on the walls

  The green of pines outside reflect.

  For he who dwells within that hut

  Is talented beyond compare,

  Although he lives the simple life

  And harvest seems his only care.

  He waits until the thund’rous call

  Shall bid him wake, nor sleep again,

  Then will he forth and at his word

  Peace over all the land shall reign.

  Yuan-te soon arrived at the door of the retreat, dismounted and knocked at the rough door of the cottage. A youth appeared and asked what he wanted.

  Yuan-te replied,“I am Liu Pei, General of the Han Dynasty, Marquis of Ichengt’ing, Magistrate of Yuchou and Uncle of the Emperor. I am come to salute the Master.”

  “I cannot remember so many titles,” said the lad.

  “Then simply say that Liu Pei has come to enquire after him.”

  “The master left this morning early.”

  “Whither has he gone?”

  “His movements are very uncertain. I do not know whither he has gone.”

  “When will he return?”

  “That also is uncertain. Perhaps in three days, perhaps in ten.”

  The disappointment was keen.

  “Let us go back since we cannot see him,” said Chang Fei.

  “Wait a little time,” said Yuan-te.

  “It would be better to return,” said Kuan Yu,“then we might send to find out when this man had come back.”

  So Yuan-te agreed, first saying to the boy,“When the master returns, tell him that Liu Pei has been.”

  They rode away. Presently Liu Pei stopped and looked back at the surroundings of the little cottage in the wood. The mountains were picturesque rather than grand, the water clear rather than profound, the plain was level rather than extensive, the woods luxuriant rather than extensive. Gibbons ranged through the trees and cranes waded in the shallow water. The pines and the bamboos vied with each other in verdure. It was a scene to linger upon.

  While Liu Pei stood regarding it, he saw a figure coming down a mountain path. The man’s bearing was lofty; he was handsome and dignified. He wore a comfortable-looking bonnet on his head and a black robe hung about his figure in easy folds. He used a staff to help him down the steep path.

  “Surely that is he!” said Yuan-te.

  He dismounted and walked over to greet the stranger, whom he saluted deferentially, saying,“Are you not Master Sleeping Dragon, Sir?”

  “Who are you, General?” said the stranger.

  “I am Liu Pei.”

  “I am not K’ungming, but I am a friend of his. My name is Ts’ui Chou-p’ing.”

  “Long have I known of you! I am very glad to see you, replied Yuan-te.“And now I pray you to be seated just where we are and let me receive your instruction.”

  The two men sat down in the wood on a stone and the two brothers ranged themselves by Liu Pei’s side.

  Chou-p’ing began, saying,“General, for what reason do you wish to see K’ungming?”

  Liu Pei replied,“The Empire is in confusion and troubles gather everywhere. I want your friend to tell me how to restore order.”

  “You, Sir, wish to arrest the present disorder although you are a kindly man and, from the oldest antiquity, the correction of disorder has demanded stern measures. On the day that the founder of the Han dynasty first put his hand to the work and slew the wicked ruler of Ts’in, order began to replace disorder. Good government began with The Founder, (206 B.C.), and endured two hundred years; two centuries of tranquillity. Then came Wang Mang’s rebellion and disorder took the place of order. Anon, arose Kuang-Wu, who restored the Dynasty, and order once more prevailed. We have had two centuries of order and tranquillity, and the time of trouble
and battles is due. The restoration of peace will take time; it cannot be quickly accomplished. You, Sir, wish to get K’ungming to regulate times and seasons, to repair the cosmos; but I fear the task is indeed difficult and to attempt it would be a vain expenditure of mental energy. You know well that he who goes with the favour of Heaven travels an easy road, he who goes contrary meets difficulties. One cannot escape one’s lot; one cannot evade fate.”

  “Master,” replied Pei,“your insight is indeed deep and your words of wide meaning, but I am a scion of the House of Han and must help it. Dare I talk of the inevitable and trust to fate?”

  Chou-p’ing replied,“A simple denizen of the mountain wilds is unfitted to discuss the affairs of Empire. But you bade me speak and I have spoken; perhaps somewhat madly.”

  “Master, I am grateful for your instruction. But know you whither K’ungming has gone?”

  “I also came to see him and I know not where he is,” said Chou-p’ing.

  “If I asked you, Master, to accompany me to my poor bit of territory, would you come?”

  “I am too dilatory, too fond of leisure and ease, and no longer have any ambitions. But I will see you another time.”

  And with these words he saluted and left.

  The three brothers also mounted and started homeward. Presently Chang Fei said,“We have not found K’ungming and we have had to listen to the wild ravings of this so-called scholar. There is the whole result of this journey.”

  “His words were those of a deep thinker,” replied Yuan-te.

  Some days after the return to Hsinyeh, Yuan-te sent to find out whither K’ungming had returned and the messenger came back saying that he had. Wherefore Liu Pei prepared for another visit. Again Chang Fei showed his irritation by remarking,“Why must you go hunting after this villager? Send and tell him to come.”

  “Silence!” said Yuan-te,“The Teacher Meng, (Mencius) said, ‘To try to see the sage without going his way is like barring a door you wish to enter.’ K’ungming is the greatest sage of the day; how can I summon him?”

  So Yuan-te rode away to make his visit, his two brothers with him as before. It was winter and exceedingly cold; angry clouds covered the whole sky. Before they had gone far a bitter wind began to blow in their faces and the snow began to fall. Soon the mountains were of jade and the trees of silver.

  “It is very cold and the earth is frozen hard, no fighting is possible now.” Said Chang Fei.“Yet we are going all this way to get advice which will be useless to us. Where is the sense of it? Let us rather get back to Hsinyeh out of the cold.”

  Yuan-te replied,“I am set upon proving my zeal to K’ungming, but if you, my brother, do not like the cold, you can return.”

  “I do not fear death; do you think I care for the cold? But I do care about wasting my brother’s energies,” said Chang Fei.

  “Say no more,” said Yuan-te, and they travelled on.

  When they drew near the little wood they heard singing in a roadside inn and stopped to listen. This was the song:—

  Although possessed of talent rare,

  This man has made no name;

  Alas! the day is breaking late

  That is to show his fame.

  O friends you know the tale:

  Th’ aged man constrained to leave

  His cottage by the sea,

  To follow in a princes train

  His counsellor to be.

  Eight hundred feudal chieftains met

  Who came with one accord;

  The happy omen, that white fish,

  That leapt the boat aboard;

  The gory field in distant wilds,

  Whence flowed a crimson tide,

  And him acknowledged chief in war

  Whose virtues none denied;

  That Kaoyang rustic, fond of wine,

  Who left his native place

  And went to serve so faithfully

  The man of handsome face;

  And one who spoke of ruling chiefs

  In tones so bold and free,

  But sitting at the festive board

  Was full of courtesy;

  And one, ‘twas he who laid in dust

  Walled cities near four score—

  But men of doughty deeds like these

  On earth are seen no more.

  Now had these men not found their lord

  Would they be known to fame?

  Yet having found, they served him well

  And so achieved a name.

  The song ended, the singer’s companion tapping the table sang:—

  We had a famous emperor,

  Who drew his shining sword,

  Cleansed all the land within the seas

  And made himself its lord.

  In time his son succeeded him,

  And so from son to son

  The lordship passed, held firm until

  Four hundred years had run.

  Then dawned a day of weaklier sons,

  The fiery virtue failed,

  Then ministers betrayed their trust,

  Court intrigues vile prevailed.

  The omens came; a serpent black

  Coiled on the dragon throne,

  While in the hall of audience

  Unholy haloes shone.

  Now bandits swarm in all the land

  And noble strives with chief,

  The common people, sore perplexed,

  Can nowhere find relief.

  Let’s drown our sorrows in the cup,

  Be happy while we may,

  Let those who wish run after fame

  That is to last for aye.

  The two men laughed loud and clapped their hands as the second singer ceased. Yuan-te thought full surely the longed for sage was there, so he dismounted and entered the inn. He saw the two merry-makers sitting opposite each other at a table. One was pale with a long beard; the other had a strikingly refined face. Yuan-te saluted them and said,“Which of you is Master Sleeping Dragon?”

  “Who are you, Sir?” asked the long-bearded one.“What business have you with Sleeping Dragon?”

  “I am Liu Pei. I want to enquire of him how to restore tranquillity to the world.”

  “Well, neither of us is your man, but we are friends of his. My name is Shih Kuang-yuan and my friend here is Meng Kung-wei.”

  “I know you both by reputation,” said Yuan-te smiling.“I am indeed fortunate to meet you in this haphazard way. Will you not come to the Sleeping Dragon’s retreat and talk for a time? I have horses here for you.”

  “We idle folk of the wilds know nothing of tranquillising States. Do not trouble to ask, please. Pray mount again and go your way in search of Sleeping Dragon.”

  So he remounted and went his way. He reached the little cottage, dismounted and tapped at the door. The same lad answered his knock and he asked whether the Master had returned.

  “He is in his room reading,” said the boy.

  Joyful indeed was Liu Pei as he followed the lad in. In front of the middle door he saw written this pair of scrolls:—

  By purity manifest the inclination:

  By repose affect the distant.

  As he was looking at this couplet he heard some one singing in a subdued voice and stopped by the door to peep in. He saw a young man close to a charcoal brazier, hugging his knees while he sang—

  The phoenix flies high, ah me!

  And only will perch on a wutung tree.

  The scholar is hid, ah me!

  Till his lord appear he can patient be.

  He tills his fields, ah me!

  He is well-content and I love my home,

  He awaits his day, ah me!

  His books and his lute to leave and roam.

  As the song ended Yuan-te advanced and saluted saying,“Master, long have I yearned for you, but have found it impossible to salute you. Lately one Hsu spoke of you and I hastened to your dwelling, only to come away disappointed. This time I have braved the elements and come again and my reward is here; I
see your face, and I am indeed fortunate.”

  “The young man hastily returned the salute and said,“General, you must be that Liu Pei of Yuchou who wishes to see my brother.”

  “Then, Master, you are not the Sleeping Dragon!” said Yuan-te, starting back.

  “I am his younger brother, Chun. He has an elder brother, Chin, now with Sun in Chiangtung as a secretary. K’ungming is the second of our family.”

  “Is your brother at home?”

  “Only yesterday he arranged to go a jaunt with Ts’ui Chou-p’ing.”

  “Whither have they gone?”

  “Who can say? They may take a boat and sail away among the lakes, or go to gossip with the priests in some remote mountain temple, or wander off to visit a friend in some far away village, or be sitting in some cave with a lute or a chessboard. Their goings and comings are uncertain and nobody can guess at them.”

  “What very poor luck have l! Twice have I failed to meet the great sage.”

  “Pray sit a few moments and let me offer you some tea.”

  “Brother, since the master is not here I pray you remount and go,” said Chang Fei.

  “Since I am here, why not a little talk before we go home again?” said Yuan-te.

  Then turning to his host he continued,“Can you tell me if your worthy brother is skilled in strategy and studies works on war?”

  “I do not know.”

  “This is worse than the other,” grumbled Chang Fei.“And the wind and snow are getting worse; we ought to go back.”

  Yuan-te turned on him angrily and told him to stop.

  Chun said,“Since my brother is absent I will not presume to detain you longer. I will return your call soon.”

  “Please do not take that trouble. In a few days I will come again. But if I could borrow paper and pencil I would leave a note to show your worthy brother that I am zealous and earnest.”

  Chun produced the “four treasures” of the scholar and Yuan-te, thawing out the frozen brush between his lips, spread the sheet of delicate note-paper and wrote:—

  “Pei has long admired your fame. He has visited your dwelling twice, but to his great disappointment he has gone empty away. He humbly remembers that he is a distant relative of the Emperor, that he has undeservedly enjoyed fame and rank. When he sees the proper government wrested aside and replaced by pretence, the foundation of the State crumbling away, hordes of bravos creating confusion in the country and an evil cabal behaving unseemly toward the rightful Prince, then his heart and gall are torn to shreds. Though he has a real desire to assist, yet is he deficient in the needful skill. Wherefore he turns to the Master, trusting in his kindness, graciousness, loyalty and righteousness. Would the Master but use his talent, equal to that of Lu Wang, and perform great deeds like Chang Tzu-fang, then would the Empire be happy and the throne would be secure.”