Feng Meng-lung (1574-1645)
A bird it was at the root of the trouble;
Seven lives lost—what a lamentable case!
Note, all of you, this tragic lesson:
Do not let your sons and daughters neglect their home.
It is told how in the year 1121, the third year of the period Hsüan-ho in the reign of the Emperor Hui Tsung of the great Sung dynasty, a master-weaver named Shen Yü had his home in the prefecture of Hai-ning, near Hangchow. He lived below the New North Bridge, outside the Wu-lin Gate. This Shen Yü, styled Pi-hsien, was in a prosperous way of business, and he and his wife, Madam Yen, were devoted to each other. They had an only son, Shen Hsiu, who had reached the age of sixteen but had not yet married. The father made his living solely from weaving silk cloth, but to everyone’s surprise Shen Hsiu took no heed of his duty to earn his keep. He devoted himself to pleasure and amusement and spent all his time breeding canaries,1 and his parents doted on their only child and had no control over him. The neighbors gave him the nickname “Birdie” Shen. Every day at dawn he would take up one of his canaries and hurry off to match it against others in the park of willows inside the city.
This went on day after day, until it came to the end of spring, when the weather is neither too hot nor too cold, when the flowers bloom red and the willows are green. One morning at this time Shen Hsiu got up at the crack of dawn, washed and dressed and ate his breakfast, and made ready a cage, into which he put one matchless canary. This creature was the sort that is found only in heaven and not here below. He took it all over the place to fight, and it had never been defeated. It had won him over a hundred strings of cash, and he doted on it and held it dearer than life itself. He had made a cage for it of gold lacquer, with a brass hook, a green gauze cover, and a seed-pot and water-pot of Ko-yao porcelain.2 This particular morning Shen Hsiu took up the cage and proudly hurried off through the city-gate to match his bird in the willow park. And who would have thought that Shen Hsiu, off on this jaunt of his, was going to his death? Just like
A pig or a lamb to the slaughter,
Seeking with every step the road to death.
Shen Hsiu took his bird into the willow park, but he was later than he had thought and the bird-fanciers had dispersed. The place was silent and gloomy, with not a soul about. Shen Hsiu, finding himself alone, hung the bird in its cage on a willow-branch, where it sang for a while. Then, disappointed, he took the cage down again and was just about to go back, when suddenly a bout of pain came surging up from his belly and forced him to his knees.
The fact was that Shen Hsiu was a sufferer from what is known as “dumplings of the heart,” or hernia. Every attack sent him into a dead faint. It must have been that he had risen earlier than usual that morning, and then, arriving late to find no one there, he felt disappointed and miserable, so that this time the attack was particularly severe. He collapsed on the ground at the foot of a willow tree, where he lay unconscious for four whole hours.
Now, wouldn’t you agree that “there is such a thing as coincidence”? This very day a cooper called Chang came walking through the park, his pack on his back, on the way to a job at the Ch’u household. He saw from a distance that there was someone lying at the foot of this tree, and so he came bounding up to the spot, set down his load, and had a look. Shen Hsiu’s face was a waxy yellow, and he was still in a coma. There was nothing of any value on him, but at one side was the canary in its cage; and the canary chose just this moment to sing away more beautifully than ever. It was a case of “the sight of the treasure provides the motive,” and “the plan is born when the man is poorest.” Chang thought, “I might work all day for a couple of silver cents. What good would that do me?”
Shen Hsiu must have been doomed to die, for at the sight of Chang the canary began to sing harder than ever. Chang said to himself, “The rest doesn’t matter, but this canary alone is worth two or three silver taels at least.” So he picked up the cage and was just making off, when to his surprise Shen Hsiu came round. Shen opened his eyes to see Chang picking up the cage. He tried to get up but couldn’t. All he could do was cry out, “Where are you off to with my canary, you old blackguard?”
“This little fool has too quick a tongue,” Chang thought to himself. “Suppose I take it, and he manages to get up and comes after me—he’ll make trouble for me. There’s only one thing for it, one way or the other I’m in a mess.” So he went to the barrel he had been carrying and took out a curved paring-knife, then turned to Shen Hsiu and struck at him. The knife was sharp and he used all his strength, and Shen Hsiu’s head rolled away to one side.
Chang cast panic-stricken glances to left and right, fearful lest someone should have seen him. Then, looking up, he saw that to one side stood a hollow tree. Hurriedly he picked up the head and dropped it into the hollow trunk, returned the knife to the barrel, and hung the bird-cage from his pack. He did not go on to the job at the Ch’u house, but went off like a puff of smoke, through the streets and alleys of the town, looking for somewhere to hide.
Now, how many lives do you think were lost on account of this one live bird? Indeed,
Private words among men,
Heard in Heaven like thunder;
A misdeed in a dark room,
But the gods have eyes like lightning.
As Chang walked along, the thought came to him, “There is a traveling merchant who stays in an inn at Hu-chou-shu, and I have often seen him buying pets. Why not go there and sell the bird to him?” And he made straight for the suburb past the Wu-lin Gate.
The evil fate in store must have been determined from a previous existence, for there he saw three merchants with two youths at their heels, five persons all told. They had just packed up their goods to go back, and he met them coming in through the gate. The merchants were all men of the Eastern Capital, Pien-liang.3 One of them was called Li Chi, a trader in herbs. He had always had a fancy for canaries, and seeing this lovely bird on the cooper’s back, he called to Chang to let him see it. Chang set down his pack. The merchant examined the canary’s plumage and eyes, and saw that it was a fine bird. It had a lovely singing voice, too, and he was delighted with it. “Would you like to sell him?” he asked Chang.
By this time Chang’s only concern was to be rid of the evidence. So he said, “How much will you give me, sir?”
The longer Li Chi looked at the bird the more he liked it. “I’ll give you a tael of silver,” he said.
Chang realized the deal was on. “I don’t want to haggle,” he said. “It’s just that this bird’s very precious to me. But give me a little more and you can have him.”
Li Chi took out three pieces of silver and weighed them: there was one tael and a fifth. “That’s the lot,” he said, handing it to Chang.
Chang took the silver, examined it, and put it in his wallet. He gave the canary to the merchant and took his leave. “That’s a good deed done, getting rid of the evidence,” he told himself. He did not go back to his work, but hurried straight home. But still he felt certain misgivings at heart. Indeed,
The evil-doer fears the wrath of Heaven and Earth,
The swindler dreads discovery by gods and demons.
Chang’s home was in fact against the city-wall by the Yung-chin Gate. There was only himself and his wife; they had no children. When his wife saw him coming back, she said, “You haven’t used a single splint. Why have you come home so early? What’s the trouble?”
Chang said not a word until he had entered the house, taken off his pack, and turned back to bolt the door. Then he said, “Come here, wife, I’ve something to tell you. Today I’ve been to such-and-such and done such-and-such, and I’ve come by this ounce and a fifth of silver. I’m giving it to you so that you can enjoy yourself for a while.” And the two of them gloated over the money.
But this does not concern us. Let us rather go on to tell how there was no one about in the willow park until late morning, when two peasants carrying loads of manure happened to pass through. The headless corpse blocking their path gave them a fright, and they began to kick up a fuss, quickly rousing the ward headman and all the citizens of the neighborhood. The ward submitted the matter to the district and the district to the prefecture, and the next day a coroner and other officers were sent to the willow park to investigate. They found no mark on the body: the only thing wrong was that the head was missing; nor had anyone come forward as plaintiff. The officers made their report to the authorities at the prefecture, who dispatched runners to arrest the criminal. Within the city and out in the suburbs, all was thrown into an uproar.
Let us now rather tell how Shen Hsiu’s parents, when evening came and he still had not returned, sent people out in every direction to search for him, but without success. When again at dawn searchers were sent into the city, in the vicinity of the inn at Hu-chou-shu they heard a commotion about the headless corpse of a murdered man being found in the willow park. When Shen Hsiu’s mother heard of this, she thought, “My boy went into the city yesterday to show his canary, and there’s still no sign of him. Can it be him?” And at once she cried to her husband, “You must go into the city yourself and make inquiries.”
Shen Yü gave a jump when he heard this and, filled with alarm, he hurried off to the willow park. There he saw the headless corpse, which, after a careful look at the clothing, he recognized as his own son. He began to wail in a loud voice. “Here is the plaintiff,” said the ward headman. “Now all that is missing is the criminal.”
Shen Yü went at once to make accusations before the prefect of Lin-an. “It is my son,” he said. “Early yesterday morning he went into the city to show his canary, and he has been murdered, no one knows how or why. Your Highness, I demand justice!”
Runners and detectives were sent from the prefecture throughout the area, with orders to arrest the criminal within ten days. Shen Yü was ordered to prepare a coffin in the willow park to contain the corpse. He went straight home and said to his wife, “It’s our son; he’s been murdered. But no one knows where the head has been taken. I have made accusation at the prefecture, and they have sent runners out everywhere to arrest the criminal. I’ve been told to buy a coffin for him. What is best for us to do about it all?”
At this news, Madam Yen began to wail aloud and collapsed to the floor. “If you don’t know how she felt inside, first see how she lies there motionless.” Indeed,
Body like the waning moon at cockcrow, half-hidden behind the hills;
Spirit like a dying lamp at the third watch, the oil already gone.
They proceeded to revive her by forcing hot soup down her throat, and when she came to, she said through her tears, “My boy would never listen to good advice, and now he is dead and we cannot bury him.4 O my son, so young, and dead in such a grievous manner. Who could have told that in my old age I should be left without support?” All the time she was speaking her tears flowed ceaselessly. She would take neither food nor drink, although her husband used every effort to console her. Somehow or other they got through the next fortnight, without any news. Then Shen Yü and his wife began to discuss the matter. “Our boy would never heed our words, and now this terrible thing has happened and he has been murdered. Nor can the murderer be found. There is nothing we can do about it. But at least it would be something if his corpse could be made whole. Our best plan is to write out a notice and inform people everywhere that if they find the head, so that the corpse can be made whole, they will be rewarded for it.”
When the two had come to this decision, they promptly wrote out copies of a notice and went out to paste them up all over the city. The notice ran:
To all citizens: One thousand strings of cash reward to anyone discovering the whereabouts of the head of Shen Hsiu. Two thousand strings of cash reward to anyone apprehending the murderer.
They informed the prefecture of this, and the authorities issued fresh orders to the runners to arrest the criminal within so many days, and put out an official notice, as follows:
Official reward of five hundred strings of cash to anyone discovering the whereabouts of the head of Shen Hsiu. One thousand strings of cash reward to anyone apprehending the murderer.
We will leave the town in its ferment of excitement over the notices, and go on to tell how at the foot of the Southern Peak there lived an old pauper whose name was Huang and who was known by the nickname “Old Dog.” He was an ignorant man who had spent his life as a chair-coolie. With old age he had lost his sight, and he depended entirely on the support of his two sons, Big Pao and Little Pao. The three of them, father and sons, had neither enough clothes to wear nor enough food to eat. They lived from hand to mouth and their bellies were never full. One day Old Dog Huang called Big Pao and Little Pao to him and said, “I hear talk of some rich man or other called Shen Hsiu, who’s been murdered, and his head is missing. And now they’re offering a reward, and they say if anyone finds this head, the family will give them a thousand strings of cash and the authorities will give them another five hundred. I’ve called you together now just to say this: I’m an old man now anyway, and I’m no use, I can’t see and I’ve no money. So I’ve decided to give you two a chance to make something and enjoy yourselves. Tonight you must cut off my head. Hide it in the water at the edge of the Western Lake, and in a few days it will be unrecognizable. Then you must take it to the prefecture and claim the reward, and altogether you’ll get one thousand five hundred strings of cash. It’s better than staying on here in misery. It’s a very clever scheme, and you mustn’t waste any time, because if somebody else gets in first, I’ll have lost my life for nothing.”
This “Old Dog” made this speech because he had given up in despair; moreover, his two sons were very stupid men and understood nothing of the law. Indeed,
The mouth is the gateway of disaster,
The tongue is an executioner’s knife.
Keep your mouth shut and your tongue well hidden,
And you will live at peace and secure.
The two went outside to discuss the matter. “This is a brilliant idea of our father’s,” said Little Pao. “Not even a Commander-in-Chief or a Field Marshal could have thought up a plan like this. It’s a very good one, although it’s a pity we have to lose Dad.”
Big Pao was by nature both cruel and stupid. He said, “He’s got to die sooner or later anyway. Why shouldn’t we seize this opportunity and do him in? We can dig a pit at the foot of the mountain and bury him, and there’ll be no trace, so how can we be found out? This is what they call ‘doing it while the water’s hot,’ and ‘leaving no trace.’ Men’s hearts are governed by Heaven: it wasn’t ourselves who forced him to it, he told us to do this of his own accord.”
“All right then,” said Little Pao, “only we’ll not set to work until he’s fast asleep.”
Having laid their plans, the brothers went bustling off and bought two bottles of wine on credit. They came back to their father, and the three of them got good and drunk and sprawled about all over the place. The two brothers slept right through to the early hours of the morning, when they crept out of bed to watch the old man lying there, snoring. Then Big Pao took a kitchen-knife from in front of the stove, and with one powerful stroke at his father’s neck cut his head clean off. Hurriedly they wrapped it in an old garment and hid it in the bed. Then they went off to the foot of the mountain and dug a deep pit. They carried the body there and buried it, and before it was daylight they had hidden the head in the shallow water at the edge of the lake, near the Lotus House at the foot of the Nan-p’ing Hills.
A fortnight later they went into the city and looked at the notice. First of all they went to Shen Yü’s house to make their report, “The two of us were shrimping yesterday when we saw a human head by the edge of the lake near the Lotus House. We thought it must be your son’s head.”
“If it really is,” said Shen Yü at this, “there is a reward of a thousand strings of cash for you, not a copper short.” Then he prepared food and wine for them, and presently they took him straight to the point by the Lotus House at the foot of the Nan-p’ing Hills. There they found the head, lightly buried in the mud. When they picked it up and examined it, they found it had been under water so long that the features were bloated and past recognition. But Shen Yü thought, “It must be my son’s head. If it isn’t, how does another head come to be here?”
Shen Yü wrapped the head in a kerchief and accompanied the two of them straight to the prefecture, where they reported the discovery of Shen Hsiu’s head. The prefect repeatedly questioned the two brothers, who replied, “We saw it when we were shrimping. We don’t know anything else about it.” Their word was accepted, and they were given the five hundred strings of cash. Then, taking the head with them, they accompanied Shen Yü to the willow park. They opened the coffin, set the head on the shoulders of the corpse, and nailed the coffin up again. Then Shen Yü took the brothers back to his home. When Madam Yen heard that her son’s head had been found she was much happier, and at once set out food and wine to feast the brothers. They received the thousand strings of cash as their reward, and took their leave and returned home. There, they built a house, and bought farming implements and household goods. “We are not going to work as chair-coolies any longer,” they said to each other. “We’ll work hard at our farming, and we can make a bit extra by gathering firewood from the hillside and selling that.”
But this does not concern us. Indeed, “time flew like an arrow” and “days and months passed like a weaver’s shuttle.” Several months passed unnoticed, and the authorities grew lax and concerned themselves less every day with the affair.
We will say no more of all this, but go on to tell how the time came for Shen Yü, who was a master-weaver for the Eastern Capital, to make a journey there to deliver a consignment of cloth. When all his weavers had completed their quotas, he went to the prefecture for the delivery permit, returned home to order his affairs there, and then started out. This journey, just because Shen Yü chanced to see a bird which had belonged to his own family, resulted in the forfeiture of another life. Indeed,
Take no illegal goods,
Commit no illegal acts.
Here above the law will catch you,
Down below the demons pursue you.
Let us now tell how Shen Yü, on his journey, ate when hungry and drank when thirsty, rested each night and set out again each morning, and after more than one day like this arrived in the Eastern Capital. He delivered each and every bolt of cloth, and collected his permit to return. Then he thought, “I have heard that the sights of the Eastern Capital are unique. Why shouldn’t I stroll about for a while? This is an opportunity which doesn’t come often.” He visited all the historic sites and beauty spots, the monasteries both Taoist and Buddhist, and all the other celebrated sights. Then he chanced to pass by the gate of the Imperial Aviary. Now, Shen Yü was very fond of pets and he felt he would like to have a look inside. On distributing a dozen or so cash at the gate he was allowed in to have a look round. All at once he heard a canary singing beautifully. Taking a careful look at it, he realized it was his son’s canary which had disappeared. When the canary saw Shen Yü’s familiar face, it sang louder than ever and hopped about its cage jerking its head toward him. The sight of the bird reminded Shen Yü of his son. Tears streamed down his face and his heart filled with sorrow. Without reflecting where he was, he began to cry out and make an uproar, shouting, “Could such a thing come to pass?”
The guard who was keeper of the aviary shouted, “Here’s a fool who doesn’t know the regulations. Where do you think you are, making such a fuss?”
Shen Yü, unable to contain his grief, began to yell louder still, and the guard, fearful of bringing trouble on his own head, found nothing for it but to arrest Shen Yü and have him brought before the Grand Court. The officer of the Grand Court shouted, “Where do you come from, that you dare to enter a part of the palace itself and make a disturbance like this? If you have some grievance, come straight out with it like an honest fellow, and you’ll be let off.”
So Shen Yü told how his son had gone off to match his canary and had been murdered, the whole story from beginning to end. The officer of the Grand Court was dumbfounded by the story. Then he reflected that the bird had been presented as tribute by a man of the capital, Li Chi; but whoever had dreamed there could be all this business behind it? He sent off runners to arrest Li Chi and bring him to court on the instant. The questioning commenced, “What was your reason for murdering this man’s son in Hai-ning, and bringing his canary here as tribute? Make a full and open statement, or you will be punished.”
“I went to Hangchow on business,” said Li Chi, “and as I was going through the Wu-lin Gate I chanced to see a cooper who had this canary in a cage hanging from his pack. When I heard it singing and saw that it was a fine bird I bought it, for an ounce and a fifth of silver. I brought it back with me; but I did not dare to keep it for myself, because it was such a fine specimen, and so I presented it as tribute for the emperor’s use. I know nothing about any murder.”
“Who are you trying to implicate?” said his interrogator. “This canary is concrete evidence. Tell the truth!”
Li Chi pleaded again and again, “It is the truth that I bought it from an old cooper. I know nothing about a murder. How would I dare to make a false statement?”
“This old man you bought it from,” went on the interrogating officer, “what was his name and where did he come from? Give me the true facts and I will have him brought in. Then we shall get at the truth, and you will be released.”
“I simply bought it from him when I ran into him on the street,” said Li Chi. “I really don’t know what his name is or where he lives.”
The interrogating officer began to abuse him, “You’re only trying to confuse the issue. Are you hoping to make someone else pay for this man’s life? We must go by the concrete evidence, this canary. This rascal won’t confess until he’s beaten.”
Li Chi was flogged over and over until his flesh was ripped open. He could not bear the pain and had no alternative but to make up a story that, when he saw what a fine bird this canary was, he had killed Shen Hsiu and cast his head away. Thereupon Li Chi was committed to the main jail, while the officer of the Grand Court prepared his report for submission to the emperor. The imperial rescript ran: “Li Chi was beyond doubt the murderer of Shen Hsiu, the canary being evidence of this. The law requires that he shall be executed.” The canary was returned to Shen Yü, who was also given a permit and allowed to return to his home; while Li Chi was sent under escort to the execution-ground, and there beheaded. Indeed,
When the old turtle won’t turn tender,
You shift the blame onto the firewood.
At this time, the two merchants who had accompanied Li Chi to Hai-ning on business could hardly keep still for indignation. “How could such an injustice be done,” they complained, “when it was plain for all to see that he had bought the canary. We would have pleaded for him, but what could we do? Although we would recognize the man who sold Li Chi the canary, we don’t know his name any more than Li did. Moreover, he is in Hangchow. We would not have been able to clear Li Chi, and we would have implicated ourselves. How can the truth be brought to light? A man has been executed when he was obviously innocent, and all because of one single bird. The only thing is for us to go to Hangchow and, when we get there, to wring the truth out of this fellow.”
Let us say no more of this, but rather tell how Shen Yü packed his baggage, picked up his canary, and hurried home, traveling day and night. He reported to his wife, “When I was in the Eastern Capital, I succeeded in avenging our son.”
“How did that come about?” asked Madam Yen. Shen Yü told her the whole story right through, beginning with his seeing the canary in the Imperial Aviary. When Madam Yen saw the canary she burst out weeping, for the sight of things brings back sad memories; but we will say no more of this. The next day Shen Yü took up the canary again and went to the prefecture to have his permit canceled, and there he reported all that had happened. “What a lucky coincidence,” cried the delighted prefect. Indeed,
Do nothing of which you need feel ashamed:
Who, throughout time, has been allowed to escape?
And murder, needless to say, is the concern of Heaven, not to be taken lightly. The prefect dismissed Shen Yü with the words, “Since the criminal has been caught and executed, you may have the coffin cremated.” Shen Yü had the coffin cremated and the remains scattered, and we will say no more of this, but go on to tell how of the two merchants who had accompanied Li Chi to Hangchow on that former occasion to sell herbs, one was called Ho and the other Chu. These two got some more herbs together and went straight to Hangchow, to stay in the inn at Hu-chou-shu. They quickly sold off their herbs, then, their hearts filled with a sense of injustice, they went into the city to look for the cooper. They searched all day without finding a trace of him, and returned, weary and dispirited, to the inn to sleep. The next morning they returned to the city, and as luck would have it, they chanced to see a man with a cooper’s pack. “Tell us, brother,” they said, calling to him to stay, “is there another cooper here, an old man who looks like this?” And they described him. “We don’t know his name, but perhaps you know him?”
“Gentlemen,” said the cooper, “there are only two old men here in the cooper’s trade. One is called Li, and he lives in Pomegranate Garden Street; the other is called Chang, and he lives by the city-wall on the west side. I don’t know which one it is that you want.”
The two merchants thanked him and carried their search straight to Pomegranate Garden Street. As it happened, the man named Li was sitting there cutting splints. The two took a look at him, but he was not their man. Then they found the house by the western wall and, coming up to the door, they asked if Chang was at home. “No, he isn’t,” replied Chang’s wife. “He’s gone out to a job.”
The two men turned away again without more ado. It was now early afternoon. They had gone no more than a few hundred yards when they saw in the distance a man carrying a cooper’s pack. And this man’s fate it was to pay for the life of Shen Hsiu and to clear the name of Li Chi. Indeed,
Let mercy and righteousness everywhere prevail,
And you will meet with them at every turn of your life;
Never make an enemy,
For when you meet him in a narrow path it is not easy to turn back.
Chang was walking south toward his home, and the two men were walking toward the north, so that they met face to face. Chang did not recognize the pair, but they recognized him. They stopped him and asked his name, “My name is Chang,” he replied.
“It must be you who lives by the western wall,” they continued. “That is so,” replied Chang. “What do you want of me?”
“We have some things at the inn that need repairing,” said the merchants, “and we are looking for an experienced man to do the job. That’s why we want you. Where are you going now?”
“I’m on my way home,” said Chang. The three of them talked as they went along, until they came to Chang’s door. “Please sit down and have some tea,” said Chang.
But the others replied, “It is getting late. We’ll come again tomorrow.”
“Then I won’t go out tomorrow, but will wait for you here,” said Chang.
The two men took their leave of him, but they did not return to the inn: they went straight to the prefecture to inform on him. The court had just begun its evening session, and the two men went straight in and knelt down. They told the whole story of Shen Yü’s recognition of the canary and Li Chi’s execution, and of Li’s earlier meeting with Chang when he bought the canary. “We two are filled with a sense of injustice, and with the desire to avenge Li Chi. We entreat your honor to question Chang thoroughly and to find out how he came by the canary.”
“The Shen Hsiu case has been wrapped up,” said the prefect. “The criminal has been executed—what more remains to be done?”
So the two merchants made accusation, “The officer of the Grand Court was misled. He took the canary as evidence, but did not look carefully into the details of the case. It is plain for all to see that Li Chi was wrongfully executed. We have ‘found injustice in our path,’ and are determined to avenge Li Chi. If we were not speaking the truth, how would we dare to make a nuisance of ourselves with this accusation? We beg your honor in your mercy to intervene in this matter.”
Observing how earnestly they pleaded, the prefect at once sent out runners to arrest Chang that very night. It was just like
Vultures chasing a purple swallow,
Fierce tigers slavering over a lamb.
That night the men from the court hurried to the western wall. They tied Chang’s arms behind his back and delivered him up to the prefecture, where he was committed to the main jail. When court opened the next day, Chang was brought from the jail and forced to his knees. The prefect said, “What was your reason for murdering Shen Hsiu and making Li Chi pay for it with his life? Today the facts have come to light, and the right must prevail.” The prefect shouted to his men to flog the prisoner, and Chang received thirty strokes to begin with, till his flesh was ripped open and the blood came soaking out. Over and over again he was flogged, but he would not confess.
The merchants and the two youths who had been with them shouted at him, “Although Li Chi is dead, we four are still here, and we were with him when he bought your canary for an ounce and a fifth of silver. Who are you going to put the blame on now? If you say it wasn’t you who did it, then tell us where the canary came from. Tell the truth: you can’t lie your way out of this, and it’s no use trying to make excuses.”
But Chang continued to defy them, and at last the prefect roared at him, “The canary is genuine evidence of the theft, and these four are eyewitnesses. If you still refuse to confess, we’ll have the finger-press out and torture you.” Terrified, Chang had no choice but to confess everything, how he had stolen the canary and cut off Shen Hsiu’s head.
“When you had killed him, where did you put the head?” asked the prefect.
“I was seized by panic,” Chang answered, “and seeing a hollow tree nearby I dropped the head into the hole. Then I picked up the bird and went straight to the Wu-lin Gate. There I happened to come across three merchants with two youths. They wanted to buy the canary, and I got an ounce and a fifth of silver for it. I took the money home and spent it, and this is the truth.”
The prefect ordered Chang to make his mark on his deposition, and sent men to summon Shen Yü. Then they all proceeded, with Chang under escort, to the willow park to search for the head. Hundreds of people on the streets, all agog, gathered round and followed them to the willow park to look for it. They found that there was indeed a hollow tree, and when they had sawn it down they gave a shout of excitement, for there inside the trunk was a human head. When they examined it, they saw it to be completely unaffected by the passage of time.5 When Shen Yü saw the head, he took a close look and recognized it as that of his son. He cried out in a loud voice and fainted to the ground, remaining unconscious for a long time. Then they wrapped the head in a cloth and returned to the prefecture, with Chang still under escort.
“Now that the head has been found,” said the prefect, “the facts are clear and the guilt established.” They put a large wooden cangue round Chang’s neck, fettered his hands and feet, and dragged him off to the condemned cells, where he was put under close guard. The prefect then put a question to Shen Yü. “Those two Huang brothers, Big Pao and Little Pao: where did they get that human head when they came to claim the reward? There is some mystery here. Your son’s head has been found now: whose head was that?”
Runners were immediately ordered to bring in the Huang brothers for interrogation. Shen Yü led the runners to the Huangs’ house in the southern hills. The two brothers were arrested and brought to court, where they were forced to kneel.
“The murderer of Shen Hsiu has been arrested,” the prefect told them, “and Shen Hsiu’s head has been recovered. Who was it that you two conspired together to murder, so that you could claim the reward for his head? Confess or you will be tortured!”
Big Pao and Little Pao were dumbfounded and bewildered and could make no reply. The prefect, enraged, ordered them to be strung up and flogged, but for a long time they refused to confess. But then they were branded with red-hot irons. This was more than they could bear, and they fainted away. When water was spurted over them and they revived, they saw there was nothing for it but to blurt out the truth. “Seeing that our father was old and sick and miserable,” they said, “on an evil impulse we got him drunk and cut off his head. We hid it at the edge of the Western Lake near the Lotus House, and then made up a story to claim the reward.”
“Where did you bury your father’s body?” asked the prefect. “At the foot of the Southern Peak,” they replied. When the brothers were taken there under escort and the ground was dug, there did indeed prove to be a headless corpse buried at the spot. The two men were taken back to the prefecture and the guards reported, “There is indeed a headless corpse, in a shallow grave in the southern hills.”
“That such a thing should happen!” said the prefect. “It is a most abominable crime. If there really are such evil men in this world, I want neither to speak nor hear nor write of them. Let them be flogged to death here and now, and we shall be rid of them; how can this evil deed ever be expiated?” He shouted to his men to flog them without keeping count of the strokes. The two brothers were flogged unconscious and revived again many times, then large cangues were placed on them and they were taken off to the condemned cells to be closely guarded.
Shen Yü and the original plaintiffs returned to their homes to await events, while a report on the wrongful execution of Li Chi was at once submitted in the form of a memorial. The imperial rescript ordered the Board of Punishments and the Censorate to investigate the conduct of the officer of the Grand Court who had originally questioned Li Chi, and to reduce him to the status of commoner and banish him to Ling-nan.6 Li Chi was declared to have been innocent and wrongfully convicted. The imperial sympathy was expressed, and his family was granted one thousand strings of cash in compensation and his descendants exempted from compulsory service. Chang, for premeditated murder for gain and for wronging an innocent man, was to be executed in accordance with the law. In view of the seriousness of the crime, the execution was to be performed by the slow process, with two hundred and forty cuts, and his corpse dismembered. The Huang brothers, convicted of patricide for gain, were both without distinction to be executed by the slow process, with two hundred and forty cuts, their corpses dismembered, and their heads publicly exposed as a warning. Indeed,
Heaven, clear and profound, is not to be deceived,
Before the design appears to you it is already known.
Do nothing of which you need feel ashamed:
Who, throughout time, has been allowed to escape?
When the rescript reached the prefecture, officers and executioners and the rest mounted the three criminals on “wooden mules,” and it was broadcast throughout the city that in three days’ time they were to be executed by the slow process, their corpses dismembered, and their heads publicly exposed as a warning.
When Chang’s wife heard that her husband was to be sliced to death, she went to the execution-ground in the hope of catching a glimpse of him. Who would have thought it possible?—when the executioners were given the signal to start, they all began to slice their victims, and it was indeed a frightful sight: Chang’s wife was frightened out of her wits, and she turned to go, her body bent with grief. But by accident she tripped and fell heavily, injuring her whole body, and when she reached home she died. Indeed,
Store up good deeds and you will meet with good,
Store up evil and you will meet with evil.
If you think about it carefully,
Things usually turn out right.
Translated by Cyril Birch
This gripping tale was included in a collection entitled Stories Old and New or Illustrious Words to Instruct the World, edited by the indefatigable Feng Meng-lung (see selections 154 and 190). The story commemorates a series of incidents alleged to have taken place in the vicinity of Lin-an (modern-day Hangchow in Chekiang province) in 1121, six years before the city was made the capital of the Southern Sung court. Although there is no means of establishing the authenticity of the events recorded or the personages concerned, there is equally no reason to doubt that the story was based on an actual crime of local and contemporary notoriety, and written down while the public memory was fresh.
Our story is a forerunner of the detective story, which had its greatest vogue in the nineteenth century. Perhaps “detective” is a misnomer; more properly, these are stories of clever magistrates. Although the magistrate makes only a brief appearance in “The Canary Murders,” he is the central figure in many other stories. The reason is that, as the highest civil authority in the district, the magistrate shouldered the manifold responsibilities for the maintenance of law and order. It was his duty in a criminal case to bring the offender to book, to conduct the trial, and to pronounce sentence. Since he alone was responsible for ascertaining the true facts of the case, it followed that where there was any element of mystery he must function as his own detective. He could rely on his runners to make inquiries, detain witnesses, and arrest suspects, contenting himself with making deductions from the statements he heard or extracted in court; or, as often happens in such stories, he could leave his court incognito to conduct his own investigations. One of the most famous magistrate-detectives in Chinese history, Ti Jenchieh (607–700), was the model for the main character in Robert van Gulik’s popular “Judge Dee Mysteries.”
1. “Canary” is used purely for the sake of familiarity to represent the bird hua-mei. There are, in fact, several points of resemblance. The hua-mei is a member of the oriole family: it is known to ornithologists as Oreocinola dauma aurea. It is 4–5 inches in length. Its plumage is grayish-yellow, speckled with black, the breast being yellowish-white. White markings above its eyes give rise to the name hua-mei (literally “painted eyebrows”). The male bird is both a singer and a fighter. The hua-mei is commonly found in North China, both wild and as a pet.
2. Ko-yao means “the elder brother’s kiln,” a term used to describe the work of the Sung potter Chang Sheng-yi, whose kiln was at Lung-ch’ü an in Chekiang.
3. Kaifeng.
4. It would be the gravest of misfortunes for Shen Hsiu in the next world if his corpse were buried while still incomplete. His parents were anxious to postpone the funeral for as long as possible in the hope that the head might be found.
5. The religious explanation for this is that corruption would not set in until the spirit had departed. The spirit of the murdered boy was waiting for the murderer to be brought to justice. In actuality, the head was probably preserved by the resins of the hollow tree.
6. In the southernmost province of Kwangtung.