SAN KUO,

COPYRIGHT, 1925, BY C. H. BREWITT-TAYLOR.

First Printing, December, 1925.

Especially prepared for the use and education of the Chinese People.

用之民人國中為備專

Provisionally Registered in the Shanghai Bureau for the Registration of Trade Marks.

PRINTED IN SHANGHAI, CHINA, AT THE PRESS OF KELLY & WALSH, LTD.

To the Memory of my Son Raymond

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

Volume I.

PREFACE.

A. Wylie, in his invaluable Notes on Chinese Literature, says, “Works of fiction par excellence are not admitted by the Chinese to form a part of their national literature. Those who have imbibed European ideas on the subject, however, will feel that the novels and romances are too important as a class to be overlooked. The insight they give in the national manners and customs of various ages, the specimens which they furnish of an ever-changing language, the fact of this being the only channel through which a large portion of the people gain their knowledge of history, and the influence which they must consequently exercise in the formation of character, are reasons too weighty to be left out of account, notwithstanding the prejudices of scholars on the subject. Foremost among these in popular estimation is the San Kuo Chih Yen-i (三國志演義). This is a historical novel, in 120 chapters, written by Lo Kuan-chung (羅貫中) of the Yüan dynasty (1260–1341). The plot, which is founded on the historical events

immediately succeeding the decadence of the house of Han, is wrought out with a most elaborate complication of details, embracing the period from 168 to 265. Following the course of events from the imbecile reign of Ling Ti of the Han, the tale opens with an account of the insurrection of the ‘Yellow Caps,’ during which Liu Pei (劉備), a descendant of the imperial family, enters into a solemn compact with Kuan Yü (關羽), now the deified Kuan Ti, God of War, and Chang Fei (張飛) to aid each other till death, in their efforts to uphold the falling house. The fortunes of Liu Pei are traced through a series of reverses, till he assumes the royal power, (known afterwards as Chao-Lieh Ti), and the empire became divided into three states Wei, Shu and Wu. Tyranny and bloodshed mark the narrative for nearly a century, till the usurper Tsʻao Mao of the Wei is deposed by his minister Ssŭ-ma Chao, whose son became the consolidator of the empire, and founder of the Tsin dynasty, being the Wu Ti of history.”

As a general description of the book, Wylie’s brief note leaves little to be desired; to amplify it would mean an analysis with which I would not weary the reader. I will add, however, that the San Kuo is widely read and very generally known, perhaps, however, better through stage performances than by actual reading.

The San Kuo is distinctly eastern, a book adapted for the story-teller; one can almost hear him. It abounds in names and genealogies, which seem never to tire the eastern reader or listener. Happily, English admits pronouns in place of so many strangely-spelt names which ought to appear, and they have been used; and as most persons have at least a tzŭ in addition to the hsing and ming I have tried to lighten the burden on the foreign reader’s memory by using only the hsing or hsing and ming of a man, suppressing his tzŭ except in the case of very well-known characters.

Manchu, Japanese, Siamese, and possibly other versions of the San Kuo have been made, and now to these I have attempted to add one in English, with what measure of success I leave to curious readers qualified to compare my rendering with the original.

The Wade system of romanisation, in which the vowels are Italian, has been used.

In conclusion, I wish to put on record my gratitude to Mr. Chen Ti Tsen who typed the text, and Mr. E. Manico Gull who has read the proofs.

C. H. B.-T. [1]

Feast in the Garden of Peaches: Brotherhood Sworn: Slaughter of Rebels: The Brothers…

Empires wax and wane; states cleave asunder and coalesce. When the rule of Chou weakened seven contending principalities sprang up, warring one with another till they settled down as Tsʻin and when its destiny had been fulfilled arose Chʻu and Han to contend for the mastery. And Han was the victor.

The rise of the fortunes of Han began with the slaughter of the White Serpent. In a short time the whole Empire was theirs and their magnificent heritage was handed down in successive generations till the days of Kuang-Wu, whose name stands in the middle of the long line of Han. This was in the first century of the western era and the dynasty had then already passed its zenith. A century later came to the Throne the Emperor Hsien, doomed to see the beginning of the division into three parts, known to history as The Three Kingdoms.

The descent into misrule hastened in the reigns of the two Emperors Huan and Ling, who sat in the dragon seat about the middle of the second century. The former of these two paid no heed to the good men of his court, but gave his confidence to the palace eunuchs. He lived and died, leaving the sceptre to Ling, whose trusted advisers were the General Tou Wu and the Grand Tutor Chʻên Fan. These two, disgusted with the abuses resulting from the meddling of the eunuchs in affairs of State, plotted their destruction. But the chief eunuch Tsʻao Chieh was not to be disposed of easily. The plot leaked out and the two honest men fell, leaving the eunuchs stronger than before.

It fell upon the day of full moon of the fourth month, second year of the period Chien-Ning, that the Emperor went in state to the Wên-tê Hall. As he drew near the Throne a rushing whirlwind arose in the corner of the hall and, lo! from the roof beams floated down a monstrous black serpent that coiled itself up on the very seat of majesty. The Emperor fell in a swoon. Those nearest him hastily raised and bore him to his palace while the courtiers scattered and fled. The serpent disappeared.

But there followed a terrific tempest, thunder, hail and torrents of rain, lasting till midnight and working havoc on all sides. Two years later the earth quaked in Loyang, while [2]along the coast a huge tidal wave rushed in which, in its recoil, swept away all the dwellers by the sea. Another evil omen was recorded ten years later, when the reign-title was changed: certain hens suddenly developed male characteristics, a miracle which could only refer to the effeminate eunuchs meddling in affairs of State. At the new moon of the sixth month a long wreath of black vapour wound its way into the audience chamber, while in the following month a rainbow was seen in the Jade Chamber. Away from the capital a mountain fell in, leaving a mighty rift in its flank.

Such were some of various omens. The Emperor, greatly moved by these signs of the displeasure of Heaven, issued an edict asking his ministers for an explanation of the calamities and marvels. A certain Tsʻai Yung replied bluntly that showers of insects and changes of fowls’ sexes were brought about by feminine interference in State affairs.

The Emperor read this memorial with deep sighs, and the chief eunuch Tsʻao Chieh, from his place behind the Throne, anxiously noted these signs of grief. An opportunity offering, he read the document and told his fellows its purport. Before long a charge was trumped up against the author, who was driven from court and forced to retire to his country house. With this victory the eunuchs grew bolder. Ten of them, rivals in wickedness and associates in evil deeds, formed a powerful party known as The Ten. One of them, Chang Jang, won such influence that he became the Emperor’s most honoured and trusted adviser. The Emperor even called him Daddie. So the Government went quickly from bad to worse, till the country was ripe for rebellion and buzzed with brigandage.

At this time in Chülu was a certain Chang family, of whom three brothers bore the name of Chio, Pao and Liang respectively. The eldest was an unclassed graduate, who devoted himself to medicine. One day, while culling simples in the woods, he met a venerable old gentleman with very bright eyes and fresh complexion, who walked leaning on a staff. The old man beckoned Chio into a cave and there gave him three volumes of the “Book of Heaven.” “This book” said he, “is the Way of Peace. With the aid of these volumes you can convert the world and rescue mankind. But you must be single-minded, or, rest assured, you will greatly suffer.”

With a humble obeisance Chang took the book and asked the name of his benefactor.

“I am the Hsien of the Southern Land of Glory,” was the reply, as the old gentleman disappeared in thin air.

The new possessor of the wonderful book studied it eagerly and strove day and night to reduce its precepts to practice. Before long he could summon the winds and command the rain, and became known as The Mystic of the Way of Peace. Soon he could test his other powers. With a change of reign-title [3]appeared a terrible pestilence which ran throughout the land, whereupon Chang Chio distributed charmed remedies of which the success gained him the title of the Wise and Good Master. He began to have a following of disciples whom he initiated into the mysteries and sent abroad throughout all the land. They, like their master, could write charms and recite formulae and their fame increased his following. He began to organise his disciples. He established thirty six circuits, the larger with a myriad or more members, the smaller with about half that number. Each circuit had its chief who took the military title of General. They talked wildly of the death of the blue heavens and the setting up of the yellow; they said a new cycle was beginning and

would bring universal good fortune, and they persuaded people to chalk the symbols for the first year of a cycle on the main door of their dwellings.

With the growth of the number of his supporters grew also the ambition of the “Wise and Good.” He dreamed of empire. One of his partizans, Ma Yüan-i, was sent bearing gifts to gain the support of the eunuchs whereby to have allies within the palace. To his brothers Chang Chio said, “For schemes like ours always the most difficult part is to gain the popular favour. But that is already ours. Such an opportunity must not pass.” And they began to prepare. Many yellow flags were made and a day was chosen to strike the first blow.

Then they wrote letters to the chief eunuch, Fêng Hsü, and sent them by a follower, who alas! betrayed their trust and discovered the plot. The Emperor summoned his trusty General Ho Chin and bade him look to it. Ma Yüan-i was at once taken and put to death. Fêng Hsü and many others were cast into prison.

The plot having thus become known the Changs were forced at once to take the field. They assumed grandiose titles, Tʻien Kung, or Celestial Duke, Ti Kung, or Terrestrial Duke, Jên Kung, or Duke of Humanity, and in these names they put forth this manifesto:—“The good fortune of the Hans is exhausted and the Wise Man has appeared. Discern the will of Heaven, O ye people, and walk in the way of righteousness, whereby alone ye may attain to peace.”

Support was not lacking. On every side people bound their heads with a yellow turban and joined the army of the rebel Chang Chio, so that soon his strength was exceeding great and the official troops melted away at a whisper of his coming.

Ho Chin, Guardian of the Throne, memorialised for general preparations against the rebels and an edict called upon every one to fight against them. In the meantime Lu Chih, Huangfu Sung and Chu Chien marched against them in three directions with veteran soldiers.

It is now time to turn to Chang Chio. He led his army into Yuchow, the northern of the eight divisions of the country. [4]The Prefect was one Liu Yen, a scion of the Imperial House through a certain Lu, Prince Kung of Chingling. Learning of the approach of the rebels, the Prefect called in the Hsiao-yü Tsou Ching to consult over the position. Said Tsou, “They are many and we few; you must enlist more men to oppose them.”

The Prefect saw this was so and he put out notices calling for volunteers to serve against the rebels. One of these notices was posted up in the Cho district, where lived one of whom much will be heard later.

This man was no mere bookish scholar nor found he any pleasure in study. But he was liberal and amiable, albeit a man of few words, hiding all feeling under a calm exterior. He had always cherished a yearning for high emprise and had cultivated the friendship of men of mark. He was tall of stature. His ears were long, the lobes touching his shoulders, and his hands hung down below his knees. His eyes were very prominent, so that he could see backward past his ears. His complexion was clear as jade and he had rich red lips. He was a descendant of a Prince whose father was the grandson of the Emperor Ching, (the occupant of the dragon throne a century and a half B.C.) His name was Liu Pei, or more commonly Liu Yüan-tê. Many years before one of his forbears had been Marquis of that very district, but had lost his rank for remissness in ceremonial offerings. However, that branch of the family had remained on in the place, gradually becoming poorer and poorer as the years rolled on. His father Liu Hung had been a scholar and an official but died young. The widow and orphan were

left alone and Pei as a lad won a reputation for filial piety.

At this time the family had sunk deep in poverty and the son gained his living by the sale of straw sandals and weaving grass mats. The family home was in a village near the district city. Near the house stood a huge mulberry tree, and seen from afar its curved profile resembled the tilt of a waggon. Noting the luxuriance of its foliage a soothsayer had predicted that one day a man of distinction would come forth from the family. As a child Yüan-tê and the other village boys played beneath this tree and he would climb up into it, saying he was emperor and was mounting his chariot. The lad’s uncle recognised that he was no ordinary boy and saw to it that the family did not come to actual want.

When Yüan-tê was fifteen his mother sent him travelling for his education. For a time he served Chêng Yüan and Lu Chih as masters and he became great friends with Kungssun Tsan.

Yüan-tê was twenty eight when the outbreak of the rebellion called for soldiers. The sight of the notice saddened him and he sighed as he read it. Suddenly a rasping voice behind him cried, “Noble Sir, why sigh if you do nothing to help your country?” Turning quickly he saw standing there a man about [5]his own height, with a bullet head like a leopard’s, large eyes, a pointed chin and a bristling moustache. He spoke in a loud bass voice and looked as irresistible as a runaway horse. At once Yüan-tê saw he was no ordinary man and asked who he was.

“Chang Fei is my name; I am usually called I-tê” replied the stranger. “I live near here where I have a farm; and I am a wine-seller and a butcher as well. And I like to become acquainted with worthy men. Your sighs as you read the notice drew me toward you.”

Yüan-tê replied, “I am of the Imperial Family, Liu by name, and my distinguishing name is Pei. An I could I would destroy these rebels and restore peace to the land, but alas! I am helpless.”

“I am not without means,” said Fei. “Suppose you and I raised some men and tried what we could do.”

This was happy news for Yüan-tê and the two betook themselves to the village inn to talk over the project. As they were drinking, a huge, tall fellow appeared pushing a hand-cart along the road. At the threshold he halted and entered the inn to rest awhile and he called for wine. “And be quick,” added he “for I am in haste to get into the town and offer myself for the army.”

Yüan-tê looked over the new-comer item by item and noted his huge frame, his long beard, his dark brown face and deep red lips. He had eyes like a phœnix and fine bushy eyebrows like silkworms. His whole appearance was dignified and awe-inspiring. Presently Yüan-tê crossed over, sat down beside him and asked his name.

“I am Kuan Yü,” said he; “I used to be known as Shou-chʻang (Long as eternity), but now am usually called Yün-chʻang (Long as a cloud). I am a native of the east side of the river, but I have been a fugitive on the waters for some five years, because I slew a ruffian who, since he was powerful, was a bully. I have come to join the army here.”

Then Yüan-tê told him his own intentions and all three went away to Chang Fei’s farm where they could talk over the grand project.

Said Fei, “The peach trees in the orchard behind the house are just in full flower. To-morrow we will institute a sacrifice there and solemnly declare our intention before Heaven and Earth. And we three will swear brotherhood and unity of aims and sentiments; thus will we enter upon our great task.”

All three being of one mind, next day they prepared the sacrifices, a black ox, a white horse and wine for libation. Beneath the smoke of the incense burning on the altar they bowed their heads and recited this oath:—“We three, Liu Pei, Kuan Yü and Chang Fei, though of different families, swear brotherhood, and promise mutual help to one end. We will [6]rescue each other in difficulty, we will aid each other in danger. We swear to serve the state and save the people. We ask not the same day of birth but we seek to die together. May Heaven, the all-ruling, and Earth, the all-producing, read our hearts, and if we turn aside from righteousness or forget kindliness may Heaven and man smite us!”

They rose from their knees. The two others bowed before Yüan-tê as their elder brother and Chang Fei was to be the youngest of the trio. This solemn ceremony performed, they slew other oxen and made a feast to which they invited the villagers. Three hundred joined them and all feasted and drank deep in the Peach Garden.

The next day weapons were mustered. But there were no horses to ride. This was a real grief, but soon they were cheered by the arrival of two horse dealers with a drove of horses.

“Thus does Heaven help us,” said Yüan-tê and the three brothers went forth to welcome the merchants. They were from Changshan and went northwards every year to buy horses. They were now on their way home because of the rising. They also came to the farm, where wine was set before them, and presently Yüan-tê told them of the plan to strive for tranquility. The two dealers were glad and at once gave them fifty good steeds, and beside, gold and silver and a thousand catties of steel fit for the forging of weapons.

After the merchants had taken their leave, armourers were summoned to forge weapons. For Yüan-tê they made a double sword. Yün-chʻang fashioned a long-handled, curved blade called “Black Dragon” or “Cold Beauty,” which weighed a full hundredweight, and Chang Fei made himself an eighteen-foot spear. Each too had a helmet and full armour.

When these were ready the troop, now five hundred strong, marched to Tsou Ching, who presented them to Liu Yen. When the ceremony of introduction was over, Yüan-tê declared his ancestry and Yen at once accorded him the favour due to a relation.

Before many days it was announced that the rebellion had actually broken out and the leader, Chêng Yüan-chih, had invaded the district with a huge army. Tsou Ching and the three heroes went out to oppose them with the five hundred men. Yüan-tê joyfully undertook to lead the van and marched to the foot of the Tahsing Hills where they saw the rebels. The rebels wore their hair flying about their shoulders and their foreheads were bound with yellow turbans.