The mighty dead will smile at what you say.
As Cao Cao breathed his last the whole of those present raised a great wailing and lamentation. The news was sent to the four sons Pi, Zhang, Zhi, and Xiong. They wrapped the body in a shroud, then laid it in a golden coffin and enclosed it in a silver shell, which was sent at once to his home in Yejun.
The eldest son wept aloud at the sad tidings and went out with a big following of officials to meet the procession on the road and escort the body of his father into his home. The coffin was laid in a side hall. Dressed in mourning attire, all the officials wailed together in the hall.
Suddenly, one man stood out from the crowd of mourners and cried, “I would request the heir to cease lamentation and devote himself to the present needs of the state.” It was Sima Fu, who continued: “The death of the prince will cause a great upheaval in the empire, and it is essential that the heir should assume his dignity without loss of time. This is not the time to weep.”
The others replied, “We know it is imperative to set up the heir, but without the Emperor’s edict, how can we proceed with the investiture?”
“The prince died away from home,” said Chen Jiao, Minister of War. “If his favorite son, Zhi, should presume to set himself up as heir, dangerous disputes will ensue.”
So saying he slashed off part of the sleeve of his robe with his sword and shouted fiercely, “I request the heir to assume the rank of Prince of Wei here and now. Any one of you who does not agree, let him fall like the cut sleeve.”
Fear gripped the whole assembly. Suddenly it was announced that Hua Qin had come post haste from the capital. All were surprised at his sudden arrival. Soon he entered the hall and said, “The Prince of Wei is dead and the country is in a commotion—why not set up his successor as soon as possible?”
They replied, “As the Emperor’s edict cannot be obtained at the moment, we have been considering using the princess-consort’s order to set up the heir as the new prince.”
“I have procured the imperial edict here,” he cried, pulling it out from his breast.
They all began to congratulate him. And he read the edict.
Now Hua Qin had always been a servile stooge of Wei, and so he drafted this edict and forced the Emperor to agree to confer honorable titles to Cao Pi. Therefore Cao Pi was created “Prince of Wei, Prime Minister of the State, and Governor of Jizhou.”
Cao Pi assumed his new role as prince and received the congratulations of all the officials of the court. This was followed by a banquet.
However, the succession was not to pass too smoothly. While the banquet was in progress news came that Cao Zhang, with an army of 100,000 men, was approaching.
Startled, the new prince turned to his courtiers and said, “What is to be done? This younger brother of mine has always been strong-minded. He is also skilled in the art of war. His coming here with a large army can only mean he wants to contest with me for the inheritance.”
“Let me go and see the marquis—I can make him desist,” said one of the courtiers.
The others cried, “Yes, you are the only one, sir, that can avert this danger!”
Quarrel ’tween two sons of Cao Cao
Just as in the House of Yuan Shao.
Who the mediator was will be told in the next chapter.
Footnotes
* Famous physician in the Warring States Period.
† Famous physician in West Han.
* Leader of the House of Zhou at the end of the Shang Dynasty (sixteenth to eleventh century B.C.), who conquered several neighboring kingdoms and expanded his territory. His son, King Wu of Zhou, later destroyed the Shang dynasty and founded the Zhou Dynasty, which lasted for over eight hundred years until it was overthrown by Qin in 256 B.C.
† An allusion to the Dynasty of Jin of the House of Sima, whose name also contains “ma” (horse).
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
Cao Pi Presses His Brother Zhi to Improvise Poems
Liu Feng Is Executed for Failing to Rescue His Uncle
The last chapter closed when Cao Pi was alarmed to hear of the arrival of his younger brother, Cao Zhang, with a large army. At that moment one of the officials stood up and volunteered to go and persuade him to submit. All eyes turned toward the speaker, Jia Kui, and he was at once commanded to undertake the mission. So he went out of the city to see Cao Zhang, who came quickly to the point.
“Where is the late prince’s seal of office?” he asked.
Jia Kui replied sternly, “In every household there is the eldest son and in every state there is the heir-apparent. Such a question from you, sir, is inappropriate.”
Cao Zhang fell silent, unable to come up with an answer. Presently he went into the city with the envoy. Before entering the palace Jia Kui asked him whether he had come as a mourner of his father or as a rival claimant of his elder brother.
“I have come to mourn my father’s death. There is no other motive.”
“If so, why do you bring your soldiers?”
At this reproach Cao Zhang ordered his escort to retire and entered the city alone. When the brothers met they fell into each other’s arms and wept. Then the younger brother yielded command of all his following, and was directed to go back to guard his own fief. He obediently withdrew.
Cao Pi, being now firmly established, changed the name of the period from Jian An to Yan-Kang, or “Prolonged Repose.” He gave the highest ranks to Jia Xu, Hua Qin, and Wang Lang and promoted all his officials. To his father, Cao Cao, he conferred the posthumous title of Wu Wang, or “Prince of War,” and buried him in Yejun. He appointed Yu Jin warden of the mausoleum, but with malevolent intent, for when Yu Jin reached his post he found the walls of the rooms decorated with sketches depicting the drowning of his seven armies and the capture of himself by Guan Yu. Seated in a higher place, Guan Yu looked very dignified; Pang De, angry and unyielding, refused to bow to the victor; while he himself, kneeling in the dust, pleaded for his life. These sketches were painted on purpose at the orders of Cao Pi to openly shame Yu Jin, who despised the latter for his fear of death after being captured and his return following betrayal. When Yu Jin saw the pictures, shame and rage alternately took possession of him. Soon he fell ill and died.
A loyal follower for thirty years,
Yet fell traitor in peril out of fear.
None can know another’s heart,
Drawing tigers, with bones start.
One day Hua Qin went to see the new prince and said, “Your brother Cao Zhang has handed over to you his army and returned to his post, but your other two brothers did not even come to attend the funeral of their father. Their misconduct should be condemned.”
Cao Pi acted on the suggestion and sent a commissioner to each brother. One of the envoys quickly returned to say that his youngest brother, afraid of being punished for his fault, had committed suicide. Cao Pi ordered an honorable burial for him and gave him the posthumous title of prince.
Soon after, the other envoy returned with the following tale: “Your brother Zhi, Marquis of Linzi, is drinking daily with two brothers named Ding. They were very rude. When I presented myself, the marquis sat bolt upright, and the two Dings spoke very insultingly. One of them said: ‘The late prince intended our lord to succeed, but was prevented by the slanderous tongues of wicked ministers. Now the late prince has only recently passed away, yet your master begins to think of punishing his own flesh and blood.’ The other brother also chimed in, saying, ‘In intellect our lord leads the age, and he ought to have been heir to his father. You and your bunch of courtiers, how can you be so ignorant as to fail to recognize a genius?’ And then the marquis, in a fit of anger, ordered his guards to drive me out with rods.”
This treatment of his messenger annoyed Cao Pi greatly, and he dispatched a force under Xu Zhu to arrest his brother and all his subordinates. When Xu Zhu arrived he found the marquis and the two Dings dead drunk; so he bound them, as well as all the other officials, put them into ca
rts, and sent them to his new master.
Cao Pi’s first order was to put to death the two Dings and the other officials. Both the Ding brothers were renowned men of letters, and many were sorry for their untimely death.
Cao Pi’s mother, Lady Bien, was grieving over the suicide of her youngest son when she heard the startling news that her third son Zhi had been arrested and his retinue put to death. She left her chamber in haste to see her eldest son. Seeing his mother, the prince quickly made his obeisance.
Weeping, she said, “Your brother has always had a weakness for wine, for he considers himself talented in learning and so is inclined to having his own way. I hope you won’t forget he is your brother and that I bore you both. Spare his life that I may close my eyes in peace when I die.”
“I also admire his talent, Mother, and have no intention to hurt him. All I want is to reform him. Have no anxiety.”
So the mother, still weeping, withdrew. Cao Pi then summoned his brother.
Hua Qin said, “Has the dowager been interceding for your brother’s life?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“Your brother is too clever to be content to remain in an inferior status. If you do not remove him as soon as possible he will do you harm.”
“I cannot disobey my mother’s command.”
“People say your brother simply speaks in fine prose or verse. I do not believe it myself. You can put him to test, my lord. If he fails to live up to his reputation you can slay him—if he does, then exile him. That will stop the complaints of all the scholars of the land.”
Cao Pi took his advice. Soon Cao Zhi came, bowed low before his elder brother in trepidation, and admitted his fault.
The elder brother said, “Though we are brothers, yet the proper relation between us of prince and his subject must not be overlooked. How dare you behave so disrespectfully? While our father was alive you often boasted of your literary genius and showed off your writing, but I am disposed to think that you are a fraud and you have made use of another’s pen. Now I want you to compose a poem within the time taken to walk seven paces, and I will spare your life if you succeed. If you fail, then I will punish you even more harshly.”
“Will you suggest a theme?” asked Cao Zhi.
Now there was hanging in the hall a painting of two bulls fighting at the foot of a wall, and one of them falling dead into a well. Cao Pi pointed to the painting and said, “Take that as the subject. But you are forbidden to use such words as ‘Two bulls fight under a wall’ or ‘One bull fell dead into a well.”’
Cao Zhi took seven paces and then recited this poem:
Two animals plod homeward to their barns,
Each bore on his head curving bones,
By the foot of a hill they met,
And they fell into a dissent.
But unmatched in firmness of heart,
One soon lay below a hollow in the dirt.
‘Twas not that they were of unequal might
Though wrathful both, one did not strength exert.
This exhibition of skill amazed his brother and the whole court. Unwilling to acknowledge defeat, Cao Pi thought of another test, so he ordered his brother to improvise on the theme of their fraternal relationship—but again the words “brotherhood” or “brother” were not allowed to occur in the poem. Without seeming to reflect, Cao Zhi came up with this rhyme:
They were boiling beans on a beanstalk fire;
Came a plaintive voice from the pot,
“Oh why, since we sprang from the selfsame root,
Should you press me with anger hot?”
The allusion in this verse to the cruel treatment of one member of a family by another was not lost upon Cao Pi, and he dropped a few silent tears.
The mother of both men came out at this moment from her abiding place and said, “Should the elder brother oppress the younger one so?”
The prince hastened to rise from his seat and said to his mother, “The laws of the state cannot be nullified.”
Cao Zhi was degraded to the rank of Marquis of Anxiang. He bowed to take his leave and left his brother’s court at once.
Cao Pi’s accession was followed by a set of new laws and new commands. His behavior toward the Emperor was even more intemperate than his father’s had ever been.
Reports of his harshness reached Chengdu and Liu Bei, much frightened, summoned his counselors to discuss what he should do. He said, “Since the death of Cao Cao and the accession of his son the life of the Emperor has changed for the worse. Now Sun Quan in Wu acknowledges his submission to Wei. I am disposed to destroy Sun Quan first in revenge for the death of my brother and then proceed to the north and purge the whole land of rebellion. What do you think of this?”
Hearing his words, Liao Hua stepped out and threw himself before him. Weeping bitterly he said, “Liu Feng and Meng Da were the true cause of the death of General Guan and his son; both these renegades deserve death.”
Liu Bei was of the same opinion and was going to send someone to arrest them at once, but here Zhuge Liang intervened.
“No, that is not the right way—go slowly or you may stir up strife,” he advised. “First promote these two and separate them. Then arrest them.”
Liu Bei saw the prudence of this procedure and acted accordingly. He appointed Liu Feng prefect of Mianzhu, to separate the two malcontents.
Now Peng Yang was a good friend of Meng Da’s. Hearing what was afoot, he hastened home, wrote a letter, and sent a trusty person to bear it to Meng Da to warn him of the impending danger. However, the messenger was caught by Ma Chao’s patrolling guards just as he was leaving the south gate of the city and taken before Ma Chao, who thus got hold of the letter. He then went to Peng Yang’s house, where, nothing being suspected, he was received kindly and treated with wine.
The two drank for some time. Then Ma Chao, considering his host sufficiently off his guard, said provocatively, “The Prince of Hanzhong used to look on you with great favor—why is it that he doesn’t seem to treat you so well as before?”
The host began to rave against his master. “That old leather!* But I will find some way to avenge myself.”
To sound him further Ma Chao led him on, saying, “To tell the truth, I have long had a grudge against him, too.”
“Then you can join Meng Da in attacking him from without, while I muster the men of Shu to smite him from within. We will be able to destroy him,” proposed Peng Yang.
“That’s an excellent plan, but let us talk it over again some other time,” said Ma Chao as he took his leave.
Taking with him the captured man and the letter he carried, he proceeded to see Liu Bei, to whom he related the whole story. Liu Bei was very angry and at once had Peng Yang arrested and put into prison, where he was interrogated and tortured. While in prison Peng Yang regretted very much what he had said, but it was too late.
Liu Bei asked his advisor, “Peng Yang meant to turn traitor. How should I punish him?”
Zhuge Liang replied, “Although that fellow is but a conceited scholar, he may eventually stir up trouble if you leave him alive.”
Therefore an order was given to put Peng Yang to death in jail. When the news of his friend’s death reached Meng Da, he was frightened. On top of this, an envoy came at the time to announce Liu Feng’s promotion and transfer to Mianzhu, which scared him even more. So he sought advice from Shen Dan, the former prefect, and his brother Shen Yi.
He said to them, “My friend Fa Zheng and I did a great service to the Prince of Hanzhong. But now Fa Zheng is dead and the prince, forgetting my former service, wishes to harm me. What can I do?”
Shen Dan replied, “I have a plan to secure your safety.”
Pleased to hear this, Meng Da asked him eagerly, “What is it?”
“Well, my brother and I have long desired to go over to Wei. You can send a resignation to the Prince of Hanzhong and offer yourself to the Prince of Wei, who will certainly give you a high office. Then we two will fol
low.”
Meng Da saw that this was his best course, so he prepared a petition and asked the messenger who had brought the dispatch of Liu Feng’s transfer to take it to the Prince of Hanzhong. That night he left his post and went to Wei.
The messenger returned to Chengdu, told the prince of Meng Da’s desertion, and handed over the petition. Liu Bei was very angry. He tore open the letter and read:
In the humble opinion of your servant, sir, you have set out to accomplish a task comparable with that of Yi Yin and Lu Shang, and to walk in the meritorious footsteps of the kings Huan and Wen from the ancient days. While residing in the territory of Wu, your great design was already roughly hewn. Therefore many men of ability came in throngs to join you. Since I entered your service I have committed many faults; and if I recognize them myself, how much more must have been noticed by you! Now, sir, you are surrounded by gifted men, while I, useless as a helper in state administration and inept as a general in commanding an army, would be ashamed were I to take a place among them.
It is well known that Fan Li* went sailing on the five lakes after helping his lord destroy his enemy, and Jiu Fan,† who had followed his master for nineteen years in exile, bade farewell to him on the river just when he was returning home. Why did both of them want to leave at the moment of success? It was to depart while clean and untainted. Now I am merely a man of humble origin, without any merit, and have been put in my present status by circumstances. Filled with admiration of the ancient sages, I have long desired to retire from my post. In the days of old, Shen Sheng, though perfectly filial, incurred the suspicions of his father and died; Zixu,* though absolutely loyal, was put to death by his lord. Meng Tian,† though he expanded the territory of his country, suffered the extreme penalty; and Yue Yi, though he assisted his lord to destroy Qi, was the victim of calumny. Whenever I read about these men I am moved to tears, and now I am in the same situation I feel all the more mortified.
Lately Jingzhou was overwhelmed and many officers of high ranks failed in their duty. Only I remained in Fangling and Shangyong. Now I desire you, sir, to understand graciously, to sympathize with your servant, and to condone the step he is about to take. I am but a mean man, incapable of maintaining loyalty to the end. To do what I know is wrong does not lessen my crime. But as the saying goes, “No harsh words at the end of a friendship and no heart-burning on the departure of a subordinate.” I wish, sir, these words will also be observed by you. I write this with extreme trepidation.