MI HÊNG SLIPS HIS GARMENT AND RAILS AT TRAITORS:
CRUEL PUNISHMENT OF THE PHYSICIAN CHI.
At the close of the last chapter the two unsuccessful leaders Liu and
Wang were in danger of death. However, one of the advisers, Kʻung Jung,
remonstrated with Tsʻao saying, “You knew these two were no match for
Liu Pei and if you put them to death because they failed you will lose
the hearts of your men.”
Wherefore the death sentence was not executed but they were deprived of
rank and status. Tsʻao next proposed to lead an army himself to attack
Liu Pei, but the weather was too inclement. So it was settled to await
the return of spring. In the interval there would be time to arrange
peace with Chang Hsiu and Liu Piao.
Wherefore Liu Yeh was sent to the former of these and in due time
reached Hsiangchʻêng. He first had an interview with Chia Hsü, whereat
he dwelt upon Tsʻao’s virtues so that Hsü was impressed, kept him as a
guest and undertook to smooth his way.
Soon after he saw Chang Hsiu and spoke of the advantages of coming to
terms with Tsʻao Tsʻao. While the discussion was in progress a
messenger from Yüan Shao was announced and he was called in. He
presented letters and, when they also proposed terms of peace, Chia Hsü
asked what their success had been lately against Tsʻao.
“The war had ceased for the moment on account of the winter,” replied
the messenger. “As you, General, and Liu Piao are both well reputed
officers of the State, I have been sent to request your help.”
Chia Hsü laughed, “You can return to your master and say that as he
could not brook rivalry of his brother he certainly would be sorely put
to it with that of all the officers of the State.”
The letter was torn into fragments before the messenger’s face and he
was angrily bidden begone.
“But his master, Yüan Shao, is stronger than Tsʻao Tsʻao,” protested
Chang Hsiu. “You have torn up his letter and are dismissing his man.
What shall we say about such an insult should Yüan Shao come?”
“Better join hands with Tsʻao Tsʻao,” said Chia Hsü.
“But there is still between us an unavenged enmity, we could not suffer
each other.”
Chia Hsü said, “There are three advantages in joining hands with Tsʻao.
First, he has a command from the Emperor to restore peace. Secondly, as
Yüan Shao is so strong our little help to him will be despised, while
we shall loom large and be well treated by Tsʻao Tsʻao. Thirdly, Tsʻao
is going to be Chief of the Feudal Lords and he will ignore all private
feuds in order to show his magnanimity to all the world. I hope,
General, you will see these things clearly and hesitate no longer.”
Chang Hsiu, now convinced, became more reasonable and recalled the
messenger, who, at the interview, extolled the many virtues of his
master. “If the Minister had any thought of the old quarrel he would
hardly have sent me to make friendly engagements: would he?” said he at
the last.
So Chang and his adviser proceeded to the capital where formal
submission was made. At the interview the visitor bowed low at the
steps, but Tsʻao Tsʻao, hastening forward, took him by the hand and
raised him saying “Forget that little fault of mine, I pray you.”
Chang Hsiu received the title of Yang-wu General (“Prowess-in-War”
General) and Chia Hsü that of Chih Chin-wu (Controller of the Ways).
Tsʻao then directed his secretaries to draft letters inviting the
support of Liu Piao.
Chia Hsü said, “Liu Ching-shêng loves to have to do with famous people.
If some famous scholar should be sent to him he would submit
forthwith.”
So Tsʻao enquired of Hsün Yu who was the best man to go as a messenger
and he recommended Kʻung Jung. Tsʻao agreed and sent him to speak with
this officer. So he went to Kʻung, saying, “A scholar of reputation is
required to act as a messenger of State; can you undertake this task?”
Kʻung Jung replied, “I have a certain friend, Mi Hêng, whose talents
are ten times mine. He ought to be constantly at the Court of the
Emperor and not merely be sent as a State messenger. I will recommend
him to the Emperor.”
So he wrote the following memorial:—
“In ancient days, when the great waters were abroad, the Emperor
pondered over their regulation and he sought out men of talent from all
directions. In old time, when the Emperor Wu of the Hans desired to
enlarge his borders, crowds of scholars responded to his call.
“Intelligent and holy, Your Majesty ascended the throne. You have
fallen upon evil days, but have been diligent, modest and untiring in
your efforts. Now the great mountains have sent forth spirits and men
of genius appear.
“I, your humble servant, know of a certain simple scholar, Mi Hêng by
name, of Pʻingyüan, a young man of twenty-four. His moral character is
excellent, his talents eminent. As a youth he took a high place in
study and penetrated the most secret arcana of learning. What he
glanced at he could repeat, what he heard once he never forgot. He is
naturally high principled and his thoughts are divine. Hung-yang’s
mental calculations and An-shih’s mnemonical feats compared with Mi
Hêng’s powers are no longer wonderful. Loyal, sincere, correct and
straight-forward, his ambition is unsullied. He regards the good with
trembling respect, he detests the evil with uncompromising hatred. Jên
Tso in unflinching candour, Shih Yü in severe rectitude, never
surpassed him.
“Hundreds of hawks are not worth one osprey. If Mi Hêng be given a
Court appointment notable results must follow. Ready in debate, rapid
in utterance, his overwhelming intelligence wells up in profusion; in
the solution of doubts and the unravelling of difficulties he has no
peer.
“In former days Chia I begged to be sent on trial to a vassal State to
be responsible for the arrest of Shan Yü; Chung Chün offered to bring
the Prince of Nanyüeh as with a pair of long reins. The generous
conduct of these youths has been much admired. In our day Lu Tsui and
Yen Hsiang, remarkable for their talents, have been appointed among the
secretaries. And Mi Hêng is no less capable. Should he be got, then all
possibilities may be realised; the dragon may curvet through the
celestial streets and soar along the Milky Way; fame will extend to the
poles of the universe and hang in the firmament with rainbow glory. He
would be the glory of all the present Ministers and enhance the majesty
of the Palace itself. The air Chun-tʻien will acquire new beauties and
the Palace will contain an excellent treasure. Men like Mi Hêng are but
few. As in the recitation of Chi-chʻu and the singing of Yang-o the
most skilful performers are sought, and such fleet horses as Fei-tʻu
and Yao-miao were looked for by the famous judges of horses, Wang Liang
and Pai Lo, so I, the humble one, dare not conceal this man. Your
Majesty is careful in the selection of servants and should try him. Let
him be summoned as he is, simply clad in his serge dress, and should he
not appear worthy then may I be punished for the fault of deception.”
The Emperor read the memorial and passed it to his Minister, who duly
summoned Mi Hêng. He came, but after his formal salutations were over
he was left standing and not invited to sit down. Looking up to heaven
he sighed deeply, saying, “Wide as is the universe it cannot produce
the man.”
“Under my orders are scores of men whom the world call heroes. What do
you mean by saying there is not the man?” said Tsʻao.
“I should be glad to hear who they are,” said Mi.
“Hsün Yü and Hsün Yu, Kuo Chia and Chʻêng Yü are all men of profound
skill and long views, superior to Hsiao Ho and Chʻên Pʻing; Chang Liao
and Hsü Chu, Li Tien and Yo Chin are bravest of the brave, better than
Tsên Pʻêng and Ma Wu. Lü Chʻien and Man Chʻung are my secretaries, Yü
Chin and Hsü Huang are my van-leaders; Hsiahou Tun is one of the
world’s marvels and Tsʻao Tzŭ-hsiao is the most successful leader of
the age. Now say you there are not the men?”
“Sir, you are quite mistaken,” said Mi Hêng with a smile. “I know all
these things you call men. Hsün Yü is qualified to pose at a funeral or
ask after a sick man. Hsün Yu is fit to be a tomb guardian. Chʻêng Yü
might be sent to shut doors and bolt windows, and Kuo Chia is a reciter
of poems; Chang Liao might beat drums and clang gongs; Hsü Chu might
lead cattle to pasture; Yo Chin would make a fair confidential clerk of
the Court; Li Tien could carry despatches and notices; Lü Chʻien would
be a fair armourer; Man Chʻung could be sent to drink wine and eat
brewers’ grains; Yü Chin might be of use to carry planks and build
walls; Hsü Huang might be employed to kill pigs and slay dogs; Hsiahou
Tun should be styled ‘Whole Body’ General and Tsʻao Tzŭ-hsiao should be
called ‘Money-grubbing Prefect.’ As for the remainder, they are mere
clothes-horses, rice-sacks, wine butts, flesh bags.”
“And what special gifts have you?” said Tsʻao Tsʻao angrily.
“I know everything in heaven above and the earth beneath. I am
conversant with the Three Religions and the Nine Systems of Philosophy.
I could make my prince the rival of Yao and Shun and I myself could
compare in virtue with Kʻung and Yen. Can I discuss on even terms with
common people?”
Now Chang Liao was present and he raised his sword to strike down the
impudent visitor who spoke thus to his master, but Tsʻao Tsʻao said, “I
want another drummer boy to play on occasions of congratulation in the
Court. I will confer this office upon him.”
Instead of indignantly declining this Mi Hêng accepted the position and
went out.
“He spoke very impertinently,” said Liao; “Why did you not put him to
death?”
“He has something of a reputation; empty, but people have heard of him
and so, if I put him to death, they would say I was intolerant. As he
thinks he has ability I have made him a drummer to mortify him.”
Soon after Tsʻao instituted a banquet in the capital at which the
guests were many. The drums were to be played and the old drummers were
ordered to wear new clothes. But the new drummer took his place with
the other musicians clad in old and worn garments. The piece chosen was
Yü-yang (or “Fishing”) and from the earliest taps on the drum the
effect was exquisite, profound as the notes from metal and stone. The
performance stirred deeply the emotions of every guest, some even shed
tears. Seeing all eyes turned on the shabby performer the attendants
said, “Why did you not put on your new uniform?”
Mi Hêng turned to them, slipped off his frayed and torn robe and stood
there in full view, naked as he was born. The assembled guests covered
their faces. Then the drummer composedly drew on his nether garments.
“Why do you behave so rudely at Court?” said Tsʻao Tsʻao.
“To flout one’s prince and insult one’s superiors is the real
rudeness,” cried Mi Hêng. “I bare my natural body as an emblem of my
purity.”
“So you are pure! And who is foul?”
“You do not distinguish between the wise and the foolish; which is to
have foul vision; you have never read the Odes or the Histories, which
is to have foul speech; you are deaf to honest words, which is to have
foul ears; you are unable to reconcile antiquity with to-day, which is
to be foul without; you cannot tolerate the nobles, which is to be foul
within; you harbour thoughts of rebellion, which is to have a foul
heart. I am the most famous scholar in the world and you make me a
drummer boy, that is as Yang Huo belittling Chung-ni (Confucius) or
Tsang Tsʻang vilifying Mêng, the Philosopher (Mencius). You desire to
be chief and arbitrator of the great nobles, yet you treat me thus!”
Now Kʻung Jung who had recommended Mi Hêng for employment was among the
guests and he feared for the life of his friend. Wherefore he tried to
calm the storm.
“Mi Hêng is only guilty of a misdemeanour like Hsü Mi’s,” cried he. “He
is not a man likely to disturb your dreams, illustrious Prince.”
Pointing to Mi Hêng the Minister said, “I will send you to Chingchou as
my messenger and if Liu Piao surrender to me I will give you a post at
Court.”
But Hêng was unwilling to go. So Tsʻao Tsʻao bade two of his men
prepare three horses and they set Hêng on the middle one and dragged
him along the road between them.
It is also related that a great number of officers of all ranks
assembled at the east gate to see the messenger start. Hsün Yü said,
“When Mi Hêng comes we will not rise to salute him.”
So when Hêng came, dismounted and entered the waiting room, they all
sat stiff and silent. Mi Hêng uttered a loud cry.
“What is that for?” said Hsün Yü.
“Should not one cry out when one enters a coffin?” said Mi Hêng.
“We may be corpses,” cried they altogether, “but you are a wandering
ghost.”
“I am a Minister of Han and not a partizan of Tsʻao’s,” cried he. “You
cannot say I have no head.”
They were angry enough to kill him, but Hsün Yü checked them. “He is a
paltry fellow, it is not worth soiling your blades with his blood.”
“I am paltry, am I? Yet I have the soul of a man and you are mere
worms,” said Mi Hêng.
They went their ways all very angry. Mi Hêng went on his journey and
presently reached Chingchou, where he saw Liu Piao. After that, under
pretence of extolling his virtue, he lampooned Piao, who was annoyed
and sent him to Chianghsia to see Huang Tsu.
“Why did you not put the fellow to death for lampooning you?” said one
to Liu Piao.
“You see he shamed Tsʻao Tsʻao, but Tsʻao did not kill him as he feared
to lose popular favour. So he sent him to me, thinking to borrow my
hand to slay him and so suffer the loss of my good name. I have sent
him on to Huang Tsu to let Tsʻao see that I understood.”
His clever caution met with general praise. At that time a messenger
from Yüan Shao was also there with certain proposals for an alliance
and it was necessary to decide which side to espouse. All the advisers
came together to consider the question. Then the secretary, Han Sung,
said, “As you have now two offers you can please yourself and choose
your own way to destroy your enemies, for if one refuse you can follow
the other. Now Tsʻao Tsʻao is an able general and has many capable men
in his train. It looks as though he may destroy Yüan Shao and then move
his armies across the river. I fear, General, you would be unable then
to withstand him. That being so it would be wise to support Tsʻao
Tsʻao, who will treat you with respect.”
Liu Piao replied, “You go to the capital and see how things tend. That
will help me to decide.”
Han Sung said, “The positions of master and servant are clearly
defined. Now I am your man prepared to go all lengths for you and obey
you to the last, whether in serving the Emperor or in following Tsʻao
Tsʻao. But lest there should be any doubt you must remember that if the
Emperor gives me any office then I shall become his servant and shall
not be ready to face death for you.”
“You go and find out what you can. I have ideas in my mind.”
So Han Sung took his leave and went to the capital, where he saw Tsʻao.
Tsʻao gave him rank and made him Prefect of Lingling. The adviser Hsün
Yü remonstrated, saying, “This man came to spy out how things were
moving. He has done nothing to deserve reward and yet you give him an
office like this. There were no such suspicious rumours connected with
poor Mi Hêng and yet you sent him off and would never test his powers.”
“Mi Hêng shamed me too deeply before all the world. I am going to
borrow Liu Piao’s hand to remove him. And you need say no more,” said
Tsʻao.
Then Tsʻao sent Han Sung back to his former master to tell him what had
happened. He came and was full of praise for the virtues of the Court
and was keen on persuading Piao to espouse that side. Then Liu Piao
suddenly turned angry, charged him with treachery and threatened him
with death.
“You turn your back on me;” cried Han Sung. “I did not betray you.”
Kʻuai Liang remarked that Han Sung had foretold this possibility before
he left, it was only what he expected. Liu Piao, who was just and
reasonable, went no further.
Presently came the news that Mi Hêng had been put to death by Huang Tsu
on account of a quarrel begun over the wine cups. Both being worse for
liquor they had begun to discuss the worth of people.
“You were in Hsütu,” said Huang. “Who was there of worth?”
“The big boy was Kʻung Jung and the little one Yang Tê-tsu. There was
no one else to count.”
“What am I like?” said Huang.
“You are like a god in a temple; you sit still and receive sacrifice,
but the lack of intelligence is pitiful.”
“Do you regard me as a mere image?” cried Huang Tsu, angry.
So he put the impudent speaker to death. Even at the very point of
death Mi never ceased his railing and abuse.
“Alas!” sighed Liu Piao, when he heard of his fate. He had the victim
honourably interred near Yingwuchou. And a later poet wrote of him:—
Huang Tsu could brook no rival; at his word
Mi Hêng met death beneath the cruel sword.
His grave on Parrot Isle may yet be seen,
The river flowing past it, coldly green.
Tsʻao Tsʻao heard of the young man’s death with pleasure. “The putrid
bookworm has just cut himself up with his own sharp tongue,” said he.
As there was no sign of Liu Piao coming to join him, Tsʻao Tsʻao began
to think of coercion. The adviser, Hsün Yü, dissuaded him from this
course.
Said he, “Yüan Shao is not subjugated, Liu Pei is not destroyed. To
attack Liu Piao would be to neglect the vital to care for the
immaterial. Destroy the two chief enemies first and Chiang-han is yours
at one blow.”
And Tsʻao Tsʻao took the advice.
After the departure of Yüan-tê, Tung Chʻêng and his fellow conspirators
did nothing else day or night but try to evolve plans for the
destruction of their enemy. But they could see no chance to attack. At
the new year audience Tsʻao Tsʻao was odiously arrogant and overweening
and the chief conspirator’s disgust was so intense that he fell ill.
Hearing of his indisposition the Emperor sent the Court physician to
see his “State Uncle.”
The Court physician at this time was a native of Loyang, named Chi
Tʻai, more commonly known as Chi Pʻing. He was very famous. He devoted
himself wholly to the treatment of his Court patient. Living in his
Palace and seeing him at all times he soon found that some secret grief
was sorely troubling Tung Chʻêng. But he dared not ask questions.
One evening, when the physician was just taking his leave, Tung Chʻêng
kept him and the two men had supper together. They sat talking for some
time and Tung by and by dropped off to sleep dressed as he was.
Presently Wang Tzŭ-fu and the others were announced. As they were
coming in Wang cried, “Our business is settled!”
“I should be glad to hear how,” said Tung.
“Liu Piao has joined Yüan Shao and fifty legions are on their way here
by different routes. More than this, Ma Tʻêng and Han Sui are coming
from the north with seventy-two legions. Tsʻao Tsʻao has moved every
soldier outside Hsütu to meet the combined armies. There is a great
banquet in the Palace to-night and if we get together our young men and
slaves, we can muster more than a thousand, and we can surround the
palace, while Tsʻao Tsʻao is at the banquet, and finish him off. We
must not miss this.”
Tung Chʻêng was more than delighted. He called his slaves and armed
them, put on his own armour and mounted his horse. The conspirators
met, as they had arranged, just at the inner gate. It was the first
watch. The small army marched straight in, Tung Chʻêng leading with his
sword drawn. His intended victim was at table in one of the private
rooms. Tung rushed in crying, “Tsʻao you rebel, stay!” and dashed at
Tsʻao Tsʻao who fell at the first blow.
And just then he woke up and found it was all a dream, a dream as
unreal as that of life in the kingdom of the ants. But his mouth was
still full of curses.
“Do you really wish to destroy Tsʻao Tsʻao?” said Chi Pʻing, going
forward to his half awakened patient.
This brought him to his senses. Tung stopped, terror stricken, and made
no reply.
“Do not be frightened, O Uncle,” said the doctor, “Although I am a
physician I am also a man, and I never forget my Emperor. You have
seemed sad for many days but I have never ventured to ask the reason.
Now you have shown it in your dream and I know your real feelings. If I
can be of any use I will help. Nothing can daunt me.”
Tung Chʻêng covered his face and wept. “I fear you may not be true to
me,” cried he.
Chi Pʻing at once bit off a finger as a pledge of his faith. And then
his host and patient brought forth the decree he had received in the
girdle. “I am afraid our schemes will come to nought,” said he. “Liu
Yüan-tê and Ma Tʻêng are gone and there is nothing we can do. That was
the real reason I fell ill.”
“It is not worth troubling you gentlemen with; for Tsʻao’s life lies in
these hands of mine,” said Chi Pʻing.
“How can that be?”
“Because he is often ill with deep-seated pain in his head. When this
comes on he sends for me. When next he calls me I only have to give him
one dose and he will certainly die. We do not want any weapons.”
“If only you could do it! You would be the saviour of the Dynasty; it
depends upon you.”
Then Chi Pʻing went away leaving his late patient a happy man. Tung
strolled into the garden and there he saw one of his slaves, Tsʻin
Chʻing-tʻung, whispering with one of the waiting maids in a dark
corner. This annoyed him and he called his attendants to seize them. He
would have put them to death but for the intervention of his wife. At
her request he spared their lives but both were beaten, and the lad was
thrown into a dungeon. Sulky at his treatment the slave broke out of
the cell in the night, climbed over the wall and went straight to Tsʻao
Tsʻao’s palace, where he betrayed the conspiracy.
Tsʻao Tsʻao at once had him taken into a secret chamber and questioned
him. He gave the names of the conspirators and told as much as he knew
of their doings. He said his master had a piece of white silk, with
writing on it, but he did not know what it meant. Lately Chi Pʻing had
bitten off one of his fingers as a pledge of fidelity. He had seen
that.
The runaway slave was kept in a secret part of the Palace while his
late master, only knowing that he had run away, took no special means
to find him.
Soon after this Tsʻao feigned a headache and sent for Chi Pʻing as
usual.
“The rebel is done for,” thought Chi Pʻing, and he made a secret
package of poison which he took with him to the palace of the Minister.
He found Tsʻao in bed. The patient bade the doctor prepare a potion for
him.
“One draught will cure this disease,” said Pʻing. He bade them bring
him a pipkin and he prepared the potion in the room. When it had
simmered for some time and was half finished the poison was added, and
soon after the physician presented the draught. Tsʻao Tsʻao, knowing it
was poisoned, made excuses and would not swallow it.
“You should take it hot,” said the doctor. “Then there will be a gentle
perspiration and you will be better.”
“You are a scholar,” said Tsʻao, sitting up, “and know what is the
correct thing to do. When the master is ill and takes drugs, the
attendant first tastes them; when a man is ill, his son first tastes
the medicine. You are my confidant and should drink first. Then I will
swallow the remainder.”
“Medicine is to treat disease; what is the use of any one’s tasting
it?” said Pʻing. But he guessed now the conspiracy had been discovered
so he dashed forward, seized Tsʻao Tsʻao by the ear and tried to pour
the potion down his throat. Tsʻao pushed it away and it spilt. The
bricks upon which it fell were split asunder. Before Tsʻao Tsʻao could
speak his servants had already seized his assailant.
Said Tsʻao, “I am not ill: I only wanted to test you. So you really
thought to poison me.”
He sent for a score of sturdy gaolers who carried off the prisoner to
the inner apartments to be interrogated. Tsʻao took his seat in a
pavilion and the hapless physician, tightly bound, was thrown to the
ground before him. The prisoner maintained a bold front.
Tsʻao said “I thought you were a physician; how dared you try to poison
me? Some one incited you to this crime and if you tell me I will pardon
you.”
“You are a rebel; you flout your Prince and injure your betters. The
whole world wishes to kill you. Do you think I am the only one?”
Tsʻao again and again pressed the prisoner to tell what he knew, but he
only replied that no one had sent him; it was his own desire.
“And I have failed and I can but die,” added he.
Tsʻao angrily bade the gaolers give him a severe beating and they
flogged him for two watches. His skin hung in tatters, the flesh was
battered and the blood from his wounds ran down the steps. Then fearing
he might die and his evidence be lost, Tsʻao Tsʻao bade them cease and
remove him. They took him off to a quiet place where he might recover
somewhat.
Having issued orders to prepare a banquet for next day Tsʻao invited
all the conspirators thereto. Tung Chʻêng was the only one who excused
himself, saying he was unwell. The others dared not stay away as they
felt they would be suspected.
Tables were laid in the private apartments and after several courses
the host said, “There is not much to amuse us to-day but I have a man
to show you that will sober you.”
“Bring him in,” he said, turning to the gaolers, and the hapless Chi
Pʻing appeared, securely fastened in a wooden collar. He was placed
where all could see him.
“You officials do not know that this man is connected with a gang of
evil-doers who desire to overturn the government and even injure me.
However Heaven has defeated their plans, but I desire that you should
hear his evidence.”
Then Tsʻao ordered the lictors to beat their prisoner. They did so till
he lay unconscious, when they revived him by spraying water over his
face. As soon as he came to he glared at his oppressor and ground his
teeth.
“Tsʻao Tsʻao you rebel! what are you waiting for? Why not kill me?”
cried Chi.
Tsʻao Tsʻao replied, “The conspirators were only six at first; you made
the seventh.”
Here the prisoner broke in with more abuse, while Wang Tzŭ-fu and the
others exchanged glances looking as though they were sitting on a rug
full of needles. Tsʻao continued his torture of the prisoner, beating
him into unconsciousness and reviving him with cold water, the victim
disdaining to ask mercy. Finally Tsʻao realised he would incriminate
none of his accomplices and so he told the gaolers to remove him.
At the close of the banquet, when the guests were dispersing, four of
them, the four conspirators, were invited to remain behind to supper.
They were terrified so that their souls seemed no longer to inhabit
their bodies, but there was no saying nay to the invitation. Presently
Tsʻao Tsʻao said, “Still there is something I want to speak about so I
have asked you to stay for a time longer. I do not know what you four
have been arranging with Tung Chʻêng.”
“Nothing at all,” said Wang.
“And what is written on the white silk?” asked Tsʻao.
They all said they knew nothing about it.
Then Tsʻao ordered the runaway slave to be brought in. As soon as he
came Wang said, “Well, what have you seen and where?”
The slave Chʻing-tʻung replied, “You six very carefully chose retired
places to talk in and you secretly signed a white roll. You cannot deny
that.”
Wang replied, “This miserable creature was punished for misbehaviour
with one of Uncle Tung’s maids and now because of that he slanders his
master. You must not listen to him.”
“Chi Pʻing tried to pour poison down my throat. Who told him to do that
if it was not Tung?”
They all said they knew nothing about who it was.
“So far,” said Tsʻao, “matters are only beginning and there is a chance
of forgiveness. But if the thing grows, it will be difficult not to
take notice of it.”
The whole four vigorously denied that any plot existed. However Tsʻao
called up his henchmen and the four men were put into confinement.
Next day Tsʻao Tsʻao with a large following went to the State Uncle’s
Palace to ask after his health. Chʻêng came out to receive his visitor,
who at once said, “Why did you not come last night?”
“I am not quite well yet and have to be very careful about going out,”
replied Chʻêng.
“One might say you were suffering from national sorrow, eh?” said
Tsʻao.
Chʻêng started. Tsʻao continued, “Have you heard of the Chi Pʻing
affair?”
“No; what is it?”
Tsʻao smiled coldly. “How can it be you do not know?”
Tsʻao turned to his attendants and told them to bring in the prisoner
while he went on talking to his host about his illness.
Tung Chʻêng was much put about and knew not what to do. Soon the
gaolers led in the physician to the steps of the hall. At once the
bound man began to rail at Tsʻao as rebel and traitor.
“This man,” said Tsʻao, pointing to Chi Pʻing, “has implicated Wang
Tzŭ-fu and three others, all of whom are now under arrest. There is one
more whom I have not caught yet.”
“Who sent you to poison me?” continued he, turning toward the
physician. “Quick, tell me.”
“Heaven sent me to slay a traitor.”
Tsʻao angrily ordered them to beat him again, but there was no part of
his body that could be beaten. Tung Chʻêng sat looking at him, his
heart feeling as if transfixed with a dagger.
“You were born with ten fingers; how is it you have now only nine?”
Chi Pʻing replied, “I bit off one as a pledge when I swore to slay a
traitor.”
Tsʻao told them to bring a knife and they lopped off his other nine
fingers.
“Now they are all off; that will teach you to make pledges.”
“Still I have a mouth that can swallow a traitor and a tongue that can
curse him,” said Chi Pʻing.
Tsʻao told them to cut out his tongue.
Chi Pʻing said, “Do not. I cannot endure any more punishment. I shall
have to speak out. Loosen my bonds.”
“Loose them. There is no reason why not,” said Tsʻao.
They loosed him. As soon as he was free Chi Pʻing stood up, turned his
face toward the Emperor’s Palace and bowed, saying, “It is Heaven’s
will that thy servant has been unable to remove the evil,” then he
turned and fell dead on the steps.
His body was quartered and exposed.
This happened in the first month of the fifth year of “Established
Tranquillity” and a certain historian wrote a poem:—
There lived in Han a simple leech.
No warrior, yet brave
Enough to risk his very life
His Emperor to save.
Alas! he failed; but lasting fame
Is his; he feared not death;
He cursed the traitorous Minister
Unto his latest breath.
Seeing his victim had passed beyond the realm of punishment Tsʻao had
the slave led in.
“Do you know this man, Uncle?”
“Yes,” cried Tung Chʻêng. “So the runaway slave is here; he ought to be
put to death.”
“He just told me of your treachery; he is my witness,” said Tsʻao. “Who
would dare kill him?”
“How can you, the first Minister of State, heed the unsupported tale of
an absconding slave?”
“But I have Wang and the others in prison,” said Tsʻao Tsʻao. “And how
can you rebut their evidence?”
He then called in the remainder of his followers and ordered them to
search Tung Chʻêng’s bedroom. They did so and found the decree that had
been given him in the girdle and the pledge signed by the conspirators.
“You mean rat!” cried Tsʻao, “you dared do this?”
He gave orders to arrest the whole household without exception. Then he
returned to his Palace with the incriminating documents and called all
his advisers together to discuss the dethronement of the Emperor and
the setting up of a successor.
Many decrees, blood written, have issued, accomplishing nothing
One inscribed pledge was fraught with mountains of sorrow.
The reader who wishes to know the fate of the Emperor must read the
next chapter.