Famous names

Suddenly there came from the inner room a sound that was not human, a gasp and a loud cry I was sitting watching the tailor. We rushed to the door but it was locked. We called, but there was no answer, only the loud inhuman noises. I was young and strong in those days, so I lifted the door from its socket and we rushed in. The men had come by now, the old steward and another old man, a nephew of the house. There was the Fourth Mistress lying back against the wall on the k'ang. Fortunately she had on a pair of trousers. Otherwise she was bare. Even her feet were not covered. The old steward put his hand on her mouth and said, "What is the matter?" He was an old steward and dared to do so.

She called in a loud voice, "I am Kuan Kung."

"What do you want?" we all called together.

"I want a sword," she called in a loud voice.

"All right, all right," we answered, "we will get it for you." But still she called and cried in that strange voice.

So we asked again what she wanted, and she said, "A cannon."

..."I want a flowered cannon."

...

Still she would not stop calling. And the old steward asked again, "Why do you call so?"

And she answered, "The Third Mistress spends all her time reading the Three Kingdoms [link added], and the heroes say that she is too familiar with them."

--A Daughter of Han: The Autobiography of a Chinese Working Woman, by Ida Pruitt, from the story told her by Ning Lao T'ai-t'ai.

If there were any justice in this postlapsarian world this possession would be my fate, since a) I read too much of the Three Kingdoms, and b) I could use a sword, a flowered cannon, etc.

The Three Kingdoms is, I think I can safely say, the work of historical fiction upon which the most video games have been based. I have forgotten if I encountered one of them before reading the romance, but I know that a number of people have been inspired by, say, Dynasty Warriors, to find out more and read further. I helped a number of them when I was working at Barnes and Noble, and one commonality became quite clear. Everyone develops great likes and dislikes for the characters. There are very few who can remain neutral--which is, of course, the story of the Empire's shivering to pieces, and the formation of Wu, Shu, and Wei.

There's a case to be made for the tradition villain Cao Cao, for example. One person I argued with insisted that he alone has the ruthless character, along with the force of personality and intellectual gifts ("...able enough to rule the world, but wicked enough to disturb it") to successfully reunite the Empire, and that Liu Bei and Sun Quan are wrong to oppose him. I disagree, but it cannot be denied that the virtuous Liu Bei's dithering over correct behavior cost lives and cause misery.

For my part, I have an undying hatred for Liu Bei's great strategist, Zhuge Liang. Blessed with knowledge and powers beyond the mortal sphere, he laughs up his sleeve at everyone around him, moving them about like pieces on a chess board. He and that other smirking Taoist, Pang Tong, live in rustic seclusion, ignoring the suffering of the people, until a suitably fine position can be got. Then they proceed to wreak havoc and Liu Bei's enemies, allowing their master his luxury of correct thinking whilst they themselves scruple nothing in lying, manipulating, and stealing to further their cause. Moral duties they ignore, and the dictates of Heaven are merely legal details to be got around.

It's odd that I hate Zhuge Liang so much, since he resembles another character whom I like: Odysseus. Both are cunning beyond those around them, willing and very able to deceive, and both possess supernatural aid. In particular the end of Zhuge Liang reminds me of the end of Odysseus.

"I am in the habit of praying," replied Kong-ming [Zhuge Liang's 'heroic epithet'], "but I know not the will of God. However, prepare me forty-nine men and let each hace a black flag. Dress them in black and place them outside my tent. Then will I from within my tent invoke the Seven Stars of the North. If my master-lamp remain alight for seven days, then is my life to be prolonged. If the lamp go out, then I am to die. Keep all idlers away from the tent and let a couple of youths bring me what is necessary."

---Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Lo Kuan-chung, trans. C. H. Brewitt-Taylor

Idlers not kept away, he perishes shortly thereafter. This failed propitiation has always reminded me of Odysseus wandering inland with an oar over his shoulder.

Beyond Epirus, among the high hills of the Thesproteans, he sat the oar upright in the stony ground, and turning toward the ram which he now meant to sacrifice to Poseidon, he found Heaven's amiability to remain unpurchased, because the offering of Odysseus, who was a rebel against Heaven's will to destroy him, had been refused, and the ram had vanished

--Something About Eve, James Branch Cabell

Odysseus and Zhuge Liang are both supernaturally clever, but neither can, finally, avoid that fate which is common to all men. In Odysseus I find it tragic, and in Zhuge Liang I find it just, even though Odysseus also through his strategems burned and sacked a great kingdom, and Zhuge Liang also had his moments of human sympathy. The difference, I think, is that Zhuge Liang is, despite these moments, always separate and above events and people. He is untouched by common concerns. He is not simply a great strategist--great strategists are two a penny in the Three Kingdoms--but can control the winds and the weather. How can he have a place in human society? Even Homer's Achilles does not differ in kind from his fellow men. He is strong, but not strong beyond strength. He too has human attachments, and these attachments allow him to understand Priam when that king comes to Achilles' tent.

Zhuge Liang also cheerfully vexes to death my favorite character, Zhou Yu, about whom more later.