A History of Chinese LiteratureGiles, Herbert Allen
History
A History of Chinese Literature
Giles, Herbert Allen
Chinese literature -- History and criticism
“This victory was speedily followed by a general rising of the Huns.
New levies were trained to the use of arms, and at length another
hundred thousand barbarians were arrayed against me. The Hun chieftain
himself appeared, and with his army surrounded my little band, so
unequal in strength,--foot-soldiers opposed to horse. Still my tired
veterans fought, each man worth a thousand of the foe, as, covered
with wounds, one and all struggled bravely to the fore. The plain was
strewed with the dying and the dead: barely a hundred men were left,
and these too weak to hold a spear and shield. Yet, when I waved my
hand and shouted to them, the sick and wounded arose. Brandishing their
blades, and pointing towards the foe, they dismissed the Tartar cavalry
like a rabble rout. And even when their arms were gone, their arrows
spent, without a foot of steel in their hands, they still rushed,
yelling, onward, each eager to lead the way. The very heavens and the
earth seemed to gather round me, while my warriors drank tears of
blood. Then the Hunnish chieftain, thinking that we should not yield,
would have drawn off his forces. But a false traitor told him all: the
battle was renewed, and we were lost.
“The Emperor Kao Ti, with 300,000 men at his back, was shut up in
P‘ing-ch‘êng. Generals he had, like clouds; counsellors, like drops of
rain. Yet he remained seven days without food, and then barely escaped
with life. How much more then I, now blamed on all sides that I did
not die? This was my crime. But, O Tzŭ-ch‘ing, canst thou say that I
would live from craven fear of death? Am I one to turn my back on my
country and all those dear to me, allured by sordid thoughts of gain?
It was not indeed without cause that I did not elect to die. I longed,
as explained in my former letter, to prove my loyalty to my prince.
Rather than die to no purpose, I chose to live and to establish my good
name. It was better to achieve something than to perish. Of old, Fan Li
did not slay himself after the battle of Hui-chi; neither did Ts‘ao Mo
die after the ignominy of three defeats. Revenge came at last; and thus
I too had hoped to prevail. Why then was I overtaken with punishment
before the plan was matured? Why were my own flesh and blood condemned
before the design could be carried out? It is for this that I raise my
face to Heaven, and beating my breast, shed tears of blood.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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