Page:Frank Owen - The Scarlett Hill, 1941.djvu/254



NWITTINGLY, Li Po prepared the way for the coming of An Lu-shan, a Tartar of the Kitan tribe, born beyond the Great Wall in Liao Tung; and yet whose subsequent career was woven into the pattern of Chinese history, a flamboyant pattern, too highly colored; nevertheless a popular one. Like Li Po he was a swashbuckler, though without the gift of creativeness. The poetry he recited was always the work of other men, never his own, but he used it to good purpose. He created tumult in the hearts of the three thousand neglected Palace Ladies that was almost craving. This was odd, for An Lu-shan was of monstrous size and awkward. However, he had an agile mind, a nimble wit and loud laughter, nor was he at all opposed to being made to appear ridiculous. Taunts that other men shunned, he used as a weapon. The complacent world of his day believed that a man rolling in merriment was without guile. Simple though he looked, he was an amazing diplomat. With him deceit was an art, buffoonery, a sharp sword.

His stomach was so large, he couldn't see his feet.

When the Emperor pointed to it, and said, "What is in that great cask you have in your lap?" he replied, "Nothing but a loyal heart."

They had met at a feast so enormous that it