The end of the war was not the end of the "Crimson Eyebrows." Fanchong was ambitious, and a large number of his followers continued under his flag. They had aided greatly in putting a Han emperor on the throne, but they now became his most formidable foes, changing from patriots into brigands, and keeping that part of the empire which they haunted in a state of the liveliest alarm.
Against this thorn in the side of the realm the new emperor sent his ablest commander, and a fierce campaign ensued, in which the brigand band stubbornly fought for life and license. In the end they suffered a crushing defeat, and for the time sank out of sight, but only to rise again at a later date.
The general who had defeated them, an able prince of the Han family, followed up his victory by seizing the throne itself and deposing the weak emperor. The latter fled to the retreat of the remnant of the brigand band, and begged their aid to restore him to the throne, but Fanchong, who had no idea of placing a greater than himself at the head of his band, escaped from the awkward position by putting his guest to death.
Soon after the "Crimson Eyebrows" were in the field again, not as supporters of an imperial refugee, but as open enemies of the public peace, each man fighting for his own hand. While the new ruler was making himself strong at Loyang, the new capital, Fanchong and his brigands seized Changnan, Wang Mang's old capital, and pillaged it mercilessly. Making it their head-quarters, they lived on the inhabitants of the city and the surrounding district, holding on until the rapid approach of the army of the emperor admonished them that it was time to seek a safer place of retreat.
The army of the brigand chief grew until it was believed to exceed two hundred thousand men, while their excesses were so great that they were everywhere regarded as public enemies, hated and execrated by the people at large. But the career of the "Crimson Eyebrows" was near its end. The emperor sent against them an army smaller than their own, but under the command of Fongy, one of the most skilful generals of the age.
His lack of numbers was atoned for by skill in manoeuvres, the brigands were beaten in numerous skirmishes, and at length Fongy risked a general engagement, which ended in a brilliant victory. During the crisis of the battle he brought up a reserve of prisoners whom he had captured in the previous battles and had won over to himself. These, wearing still the crimson sign of the brigands, mingled unobserved among their former comrades, and at a given signal suddenly made a fierce attack upon them. This treacherous assault produced a panic, and Fanchong's army was soon flying in disorder and dismay.
Terms were now offered to the brigand chief, which he accepted, and his army disbanded, with the exception of some fragments, which soon gathered again into a powerful force. This Fongy attacked and completely dispersed, and the long and striking career of the "Crimson Eyebrows"
came to an end.
[Illustration: A CHINESE PAGODA.]
_THE CONQUEST OF CENTRAL ASIA._
The Chinese are the most practical and the least imaginative of the peoples of the earth. During their whole four thousand years and more of historical existence the idea of military glory seems never to have dawned upon their souls. They have had wars, abundance of them, but these have nearly all been fought for the purpose of holding on to old possessions, or of widening the borders of the empire by taking in neighboring lands. No Alexander, Caesar, or Napoleon has ever been born on Chinese soil; no army has ever been led abroad in search of the will-of-the-wisp called glory; the wild fancy of becoming lords of the world has always been out of touch with their practical minds.
If we consider closely the wars of China the truth of what is here said will appear. The great bulk of them have been fought within the limits of the empire, for the purposes of defence against invasion, the suppression of revolt, the overthrow of the power of feudal lords, or in consequence of the ambition of successful generals who coveted the throne. The wars of external conquest have been singularly few, consisting principally in the invasion of the domain of the Tartars, to which the Chinese were driven by the incessant raids of the desert hordes. In addition, there have been invasions of Corea and Indo-China, but merely as passing incidents in the long era of Chinese history, not as inaugurating a career of conquest. The great invasion of Japan in the thirteenth century, the only pure war of conquest of China, was made by Kublai Khan, a Tartar emperor, and largely with Tartar troops. In brief, the Chinese have shown themselves in disposition one of the most peaceful of nations, only asking to be let alone, and are very unlikely to begin the war of conquest which some modern military writers fear.
Yet there is one instance in Chinese history which seems to contradict what has here been said, that of the career of a great conqueror who carried the arms of China over the whole width of Asia, and who seemed actuated by that thirst for military glory which has inspired most of the great wars of the world and brought untold misery upon mankind. This was the great leader Panchow, who lived under three emperors of the Han dynasty, and whose career is full of interest and event.
Panchow first appears in the reign of the emperor Mingti, who came to the throne in 57 A.D. His victories were won in the west, in the region of Kokonor, where he brought to an end the invasions of the Tartar tribes. Under Changti, the succeeding emperor, Panchow continued his work in the west, carrying on the war at his own expense, with an army recruited from pardoned criminals.
Changti died, and Hoti came to the throne, a child ten years of age. It was under his reign that the events to be described took place. During the preceding reigns Panchow had made the power of China felt in regions far west of that realm, bringing several small kingdoms and many tribes under subjection, conquering the city of Kashgar, and extending the western borders of China as far into the interior of Asia as the great upland region of the Pamir. The power of his arms had added Eastern Turkestan to the Chinese empire, a region which it continues to hold to-day.
But these conquests were not enough to satisfy the ambition of the veteran general. Under the boy emperor Hoti he was free to carry out his designs on a much larger scale. With a powerful army he set out on the only campaign of ambitious warfare in which China ever indulged. His previous victories had carried the terror of his name far over the kingdoms of the west, and he now led his army to conquest after conquest in the great oases of Western Turkestan, subduing kingdom after kingdom until no less than fifteen had submitted to the power of his arms, and his victorious army stood on the far-distant shores of the Caspian Sea,--the Northern Sea, as it is named in Chinese annals.
To cross this sea would have brought him into Europe, which continent had never dreamed of invasion from the mysterious land of Cathay, on the eastern horizon of the world. Panchow's ambition was not yet satiated.
There came to his mind the idea of crossing this seeming great barrier to his victorious career. He had, with his army, overcome innumerable difficulties of waterless deserts, lofty mountain ranges, great rivers, and valiant enemies. Thus far his progress had been irresistible, and should a mere expanse of water put an end to his westward march?
He was checked by dread of perils in the unknown land beyond. The people on the borders of the Caspian represented that salt sea as being far more formidable than it really was. They dilated on its width, the vast mountains which lay beyond, the fierce tribes who would render a landing difficult and dangerous, and the desert regions beyond the mountains, until Panchow reluctantly gave up his scheme. He had already been for several years warring with savage nature and barbarous man, and had extended the dominions of his emperor much farther than any Chinese general had ever dreamed of before. It was time to call a halt, and not expose his valiant followers to the unknown perils beyond the great inland sea.
The army remained long encamped on the Caspian, coming into communication through its envoys with the Roman empire, whose eastern borders lay not far away, and forming relations of commerce with this rich and powerful realm. This done, Panchow led his ever-victorious warriors back to their native land, to tell the story of the marvels they had seen and the surprising adventures they had encountered.
That Panchow was moved by the mere thirst for military fame may well be doubted in view of what we know of the character of the Chinese. His purpose was perhaps the more practical one of opening by force of arms new channels of trade, and overcoming the obstacles placed by the Parthians and other nations of Asia in the way of freedom of commerce.
On his return to China he found himself the idol of the people, the trusted friend of the emperor, and the most revered and powerful subject of the empire. He died in his eightieth year, enjoying a fame such as no general of his race had ever before attained.
_THE SIEGE OF SINCHING._
When the great dynasty of the Hans, which had held supreme rule in China for more than four hundred years, came to an end, it left that country divided up into three independent kingdoms. The emperors who had once ruled over all China found themselves now lords of its smallest division, while the kingdom of Wei included the largest and most populous districts in the realm. A war for supremacy arose between these three kingdoms, which ended in the kings of Wei becoming supreme over the whole empire and establishing a new dynasty, which they named the dynasty of Tsin. Of this war we have only one event to relate, an interesting example of Chinese fortitude and valor.
Shortly after 250 A.D. an army of the Han emperor, led by a general named Chukwoko, settled down to the siege of a small walled town named Sinching, held by three thousand men under the command of a leader named Changte, whose fortitude and energy alone saved this place for the king of Wei.
For ninety days the siege went on, the catapults of the besieging force playing incessantly upon the walls, which, despite the activity of the garrison, were in time pierced in many places, while several gaping breaches lay open to the foe. Changte had defended the place vigorously, no commander could have done more, and, as no sign of a relieving force appeared, he could with all honor have capitulated, thrown open the gates, and marched out with such dignity as the victorious enemy would permit.
But this was not the view of his duty held by the valorous soldier. He was one of the kind who die but do not surrender, and in his extremity had recourse to the following ruse. He sent word to Chukwoko that, as the place was clearly untenable, he was willing to surrender if he were granted ten days more of grace.
"It is a law among the princes of Wei," he said, "that the governor of a place which has held out for a hundred days, and then, seeing no prospect of relief, surrenders, shall not be held guilty of dereliction of duty."
Chukwoko gladly accepted this offer, being weary of his long delay before this small post, and quite willing to save his men from the perils of an assault. But, to his astonishment, a few days later he saw fresh bulwarks rising above those which had been ruined by his engines, while the breaches were rapidly repaired, new gates replaced those that had been destroyed, and Sinching seemed suddenly to regain the appearance it had presented three months before. Inside the walls a new spirit prevailed, the courage of the bold commander reanimating his troops, while the sentinels on the ramparts shouted messages of disdain to the besieging force.
Indignant at this violation of the terms of the agreement, Chukwoko sent a flag of truce to the gate, demanding angrily what these proceedings meant, and if this was Changte's way of keeping his word.
"I am preparing my tomb," replied the bold commander. "I propose to bury myself under the ruins of Sinching."
The tomb remained untenanted by the daring commandant. The long-delayed relief appeared, and Chukwoko was obliged to make a hasty retreat, with the loss of half his army. It is safe to say that in the pursuit Changte and his faithful three thousand played a leading part.
_FROM THE SHOEMAKER'S BENCH TO THE THRONE._
At the beginning of the fifth century of the Christian era China had fallen into a state of decrepitude. The second dynasty of the Tsins was near its end. For a century and a half it had held the imperial power, but now it had fallen a prey to luxury, one of its latest emperors dying from prolonged drunkenness, another being smothered in bed by his wife, whom he had insulted while intoxicated.
The empire which the founder of the dynasty had built up showed signs of falling to pieces. In the south the daring pirate Sunghen was making the great rivers the scenes of his merciless activity, spreading terror along their banks, and extending his desolating raids far over the surrounding provinces. In the north had arisen a new enemy, the Geougen Tartars, whose career had begun in the outbreak of a hundred rebels, but who had now become so powerful that their chief assumed in the year 402 the proud title of Kagan, or Great Lord. Falling upon the northern boundaries of the empire, these dangerous foes made daring inroads into the realm. As for the provinces of the empire, many of them were in a rebellious mood.
At this critical period in Chinese history a child of the people came forward as the savior of his country. This was a poor boy for whom his parents had done little more than give him his name of Lieouyu, having been forced by poverty to desert him to the cold comfort of charity. He was cared for by a kind woman, as poor as they, and as he grew older learned the humble trade of shoemaking, which he followed for some time as an occupation, though he chafed in spirit at its wearisome monotony.
The boy had in him the seeds of better things, showing in his early years a remarkable quickness in learning, and an energy that was not likely to remain content with a humble position.
Seeing that his only chance of advancement lay in the military career, and burning with spirit and courage, the ambitious boy soon deserted the shoemaker's bench for the army's ranks. Here he showed such valor and ability that he rapidly rose to the command of a company, and was in time intrusted with a small independent body of troops. It was against the pirate Sunghen that the young soldier was pitted, and during three years he vigorously opposed that leader in his devastating raids. In this field of duty he was repeatedly victorious, breaking the reputation of the corsair, and so weakening him that his overthrow became easy.
This was performed by another leader, the defeat of Sunghen being so signal that, despairing of escape, he leaped overboard and was drowned.
Lieouyu, having abundantly proved his ability, was now rapidly promoted, rising in rank until he found himself in command of an army, which he handled with the greatest skill and success. His final victory in this position was against a formidable rebel, whom he fought both on land and on water with a much smaller force, completely defeating him. The emperor showed his sense of gratitude for this valuable service by raising the shoemaker's boy to the rank of commander-in-chief of all the armies of the empire.
In this exalted position Lieouyu displayed the same energy and ability that he had shown in humbler commands. Marching from province to province and from victory to victory, he put down the rebels whom the weakness of the government had permitted to rise on every side. He had not only rebellious bands, but disloyal princes of the empire, to contend with. In one of his marches it was necessary to cross the great province of Wei, north of the Hoang-ho, a movement to which Topa, prince of the province, refused permission. Lieouyu, indignant at this disloyalty, forced the passage of the stream, routed the army of the prince, and pursued his march without further opposition, sending one of his generals, named Wangchinon, against the city of Changnan, the capital of the prince of Chin, who had hoisted the flag of rebellion against the emperor.
Lieouyu had chosen his substitute well. Conveying his army by water as far as possible, Wangchinon, on leaving his ships, ordered them to be cast adrift. To the soldiers he made the following Napoleonic oration:
"We have neither supplies nor provisions, and the swift waters of the Weiho bear from us the ships in which we came. Soldiers of the empire, only two things lie before us. Let us beat the enemy, and we will regain a hundredfold all we have lost, besides covering ourselves with glory. If the enemy beat us, there is no escape; death will be the lot of us all. To conquer or to die,--that is our destiny. You have heard; prepare to march against the enemy."
With so resolute a commander victory was almost assured. Changnan, vigorously assailed, quickly surrendered, and the captive prince of Chin was executed as a rebel taken in arms. Lieouyu, who had been winning victories elsewhere, now arrived, having marched in all haste to the aid of his valorous lieutenant. Praising Wangchinon for the brilliancy of his achievement, the commander was about putting his forces on the march for new victorious deeds, when peremptory orders recalled him to the capital, and his career of conquest was for the time checked. The absence of the strong hand was quickly felt. The rebels rose again in force, Changnan was lost and with it all the conquests Lieouyu had made, and the forces of the empire were everywhere driven back in defeat.
Meanwhile Lieouyu, at the capital, found himself in the midst of political complications that called for decisive measures. The weakness of the emperor troubled him, while he felt a deep resentment at what he considered ill treatment on the part of the throne. He had, as Prince of Song, been raised to the third rank among the princes of the realm, but he thought his deeds entitled him to rank among the first; while the success of the rebels in the absence of his master had redoubled his reputation among the people.
Ganti, the emperor, was destined to experience the dangerous consequences of raising a subject to such a height and yet leaving him below the rank to which he aspired. Lieouyu, now all-powerful in military circles, and virtually master of the realm, caused the emperor to be strangled, and named his brother Kongti as successor to the throne. But the ambition of the shoemaker's boy had not reached its summit. This was but a provisional step, and the throne itself lay before him as an alluring prize. Having skilfully laid his plans, Lieouyu, at the end of two years, gave the weak Kongti to understand that his reign was at an end, and that he must step down from the throne which a stronger than he proposed to ascend.
Kongti made no resistance to this arbitrary demand. He knew that resistance would be useless, and resigned his imperial dignity in favor of the peasant who by his sword had carved his way to the throne. The ceremony was an interesting one. A broad scaffold was erected in a field adjoining the capital, and on it was placed a gorgeously decorated imperial throne, which Kongti occupied, while Lieouyu, attired in royal garb, stood below. In the presence of the assembled thousands of Kienkang, the capital, Kongti descended from the seat which he had so feebly filled, while his strong successor seated himself on the throne amid the plaudits of the approving multitude. In the presence of the great officials of the realm Kongti paid homage to Lieouyu, thus completing a ceremony which was without parallel in the history of the Chinese empire. With this act the dynasty of the Tsins came to an end, and was replaced by that of the Songs, of which Lieouyu was the first and worthiest representative.