The great warlord that seized control of the end of the Han dynasty, Cao Cao 曹操 (155-220) was at once a ruthless and quixotic character. He ruled as chancellor for the last years of his life over a puppet Han emperor, and decreed thus in his will to his ministers:
"My consorts and concubines are all to remain on the Terrace of the Bronze Sparrow, and on that terrace set a six-foot couch surrounded by lace hangings. In the morning and late afternoon let them set out wine, meat, and grain and such things. At dawn on the fifteenth of every month they are to perform before the screen, and then from time to time climb the terrace and gaze toward my tomb in Western Mount." 1
魏武帝遺命諸子曰：‘吾死之後，葬於鄴中西崗上，與西門豹祠相近，無藏金玉珠寶。餘香可分諸夫人，不命祭吾。妾與伎人，皆著銅雀台，臺上施六尺床，下繐帳，朝晡上酒脯粻糒之屬。每月朝十五，輒向帳前作伎。汝等時登臺，望吾西陵墓田’。2
The actual terrace was built in 210; Cao Cao's sons all wrote poems commemorating the dedication of the terrace, and competed for his favor. Bronze Sparrow was but one of three such extravaganzas that Cao Cao constructed while in power; yet it remained the most well known due precisely to Cao Cao's bizarre posthumous behest. The Terrace has also become a favorite poetic/yuefu topic for generations of writers, fascinated by the literature-loving Cao Cao who rose above hundreds of vying warlords and claimed hegemony, thus ending the 400-year reign of the Han dynasty.
The Cao family was the most prominent literary patron of the times. The majority of what we now have from the third century are shaped by the tastes and activities of the Caos, many of them poets themselves. The big daddy of the family, Cao Cao, left his patriarchal mark on the literary scene with this poem, supposedly a rally to battle addressed to his soldiers:
對酒當歌，人生幾何？
譬如朝露，去日苦多。
慨當以慷，憂思難忘。
何以解憂？惟有杜康。
The wine before me as I sing:
how long can a man's life last?
I liken it to mornings dew,
and the days now past are too many.
The feeling is strong in me,
brooding thoughts I can't ignore.
How can I banish melancholy? ---
by Du Kang's gift of wine.
Thus such an image of Cao Cao was forever ingrained in posterity: flagon in hand, feasting and toasting to his generals right before they leave for battle, never to return home.
(Cao Cao as portrayed by Chen Jianbin 陳建斌 in the 2010 TV adaptation of Three Kingdoms directed by Gao Xixi 高希希)
The psychology behind the appeal of having singing girls performing and gazing at one's grave notwithstanding, the power of bad music or poetry is much more often said to make the dead turn in their grave rather than bringing them back to life. Below are three such compositions on Cao Cao's legacy, not bad but excellent poetry written by three renowned literatis from the Southern Courts three centuries later: He Xun 何遜, Xie Tiao 謝脁, and Jiang Yan 江淹, all contemporaries of each other.
He Xun 何遜 (480-520)
銅雀妓
秋風木葉落，蕭瑟管弦清。
望陵歌對酒，向帳舞空城。
寂寂檐宇曠，飄飄帷幔輕。
曲終相顧起，日暮松柏聲。
Performers on the Terrace of the Bronze Sparrow
Leaves fall from trees in the autumn wind,
through its rustling are clear notes of flutes and harps.
They gaze toward his tomb and sing "Facing the Wine,"
in an empty city they dance at the soul-screen.
In the lonely stillness beneath the broad roof,
the curtains flap lightly in the wind.
Song ends, they look at each other and rise;
the sun sets among sounds of cypress and pine.
Dead Poet Xie Tiao 謝朓 (464-499)
同謝諮議詠銅爵台
繐幃飄井幹。樽酒若平生。
鬱鬱西陵樹。詎聞歌吹聲。
芳襟染淚跡。嬋娟空複情。
玉座猶寂寞。況乃妾身輕。
A Companion Piece For Xie Jing's "Terrace of the Bronze Sparrow"
Lace curtains flap on the open frame,
the goblet of wine, same as it always was.
The trees grow so thick over the Western Tomb,
how can he hear the sounds of songs and flutes?
Traces of tears stain the gowns' sweet folds;
their tender feelings return in vain.
Desolate and still is his throne of jade,
even more so is our beings of lightness.
Jiang Yan 江淹 (444-505)
銅雀妓
武王去金閣，英威長寂寞，
雄劍頓無光，雜佩亦銷爍。
秋至明月圓，風傷白露落。
清夜何湛湛，孤燭映蘭幕。
撫影愴無從，惟懷憂不薄。
瑤色行應罷，紅芳幾爲樂。
徒登歌舞台，終成螻蟻郭。
Performers on the Terrace of the Bronze Sparrow
The Warlord has left the golden pavilion,
his mighty dominance is long silent.
Gallant swords dull and lackluster,
jade pendants too have eroded away.
Autumnal equinox, the moon bright and full,
wind pains the white dews into falling.
How thick and wet is the clear night!
a lone candle shines on the orchid palls.
Caressing shadows, they grieve having nowhere to go;
hearts plagued by countless sorrows.
Jasper-colored ballads should be in abeyance,
how can these rouged beauties be happy?
In vain they ascend the performance stage,
in the end all becomes tiny anthills.
The namesake of the Terrace allegedly originated from a dream that Cao Cao had while staying in the city of Ye, what is modern day Linzhang County 臨漳 in Hebei. In his dream Cao Cao saw a ray of golden light rise up from the ground, whereupon he dug and found a bronze-cast sparrow. His minister explained that the sage king Shun of yore was born as a result of Shun's mother dreaming of a sparrow flying into her bosom. This sycophantic explication not only greatly kissed Cao Cao's hegemonic ass, but also pleased Cao Cao into building the Bronze Sparrow Terrace, what has become the quintessential image of decayed splendor, abandoned women, fruitless longing, and creepily otherworldly music.
No picture of the remnants of the historical Terrace can be found; image search returns nothing but cheaply made TV and movie masterbations of the stories of Cao Cao. This picture below claims to be a screenshot from a documentary (most likely a "making of") on the Terrace.
What once dazzled the eyes of princes and entertained the ears of royalties in 210 is reduced to ashes merely a few generations later. I wonder, if every time the story of the Three Kingdoms is mutilated on screen and a third-rate actor mimes Cao Cao's supreme villany, the warlord kills a sparrow in his grave.
1 This translation, as well as the translations of Cao Cao, He Xun and Xie Tiao's poems, are taken from Stephen Owen, An Anthology of Chinese Literature: Beginnings to 1911, pp.325-6. Translation of the last poem is mine.↩
2 This anecdote comes from a preface in the Yuefu shiji 樂府詩集, attributed to the quasi-anonymous "Tales of Old City of Ye" allegedly compiled by a late Western Jin Lu Hui 陸翙. ↩
