The Poisoned Bride and Other Judge Dee Stories

by The Poisoned Bride(Lit)

  Judge Dee waited in his private office, while the entire personnel of his tribunal assembled in the court hall.

  As Judge Dee ascended the dais, the crowd of constables, guards, scribes, clerks and runners all knelt down to congratulate the judge, and this time his four faithful lieutenants also knelt down in front of the dais.Judge Dee bade them all rise, and then said a few appropriate words, thanking them for their service during his term of office. He added that the next morning all would receive a special bonus, in accordance with their rank and position. Then he returned to his private office.

  He finished his report on the execution of the criminals, and then had the chief steward called in. He ordered him to have everything prepared in the reception hall early the next morning for the entertainment of the local gentry and the lower functionaries of the district administration, who would assemble there to offer their congratulations. He was also to have a separate courtyard in the compound cleared as temporary quarters for the new magistrate and his retinue. These matters having been settled, he told the servants to bring his dinner to his office.

  There was rejoicing all over the tribunal. Sergeant Hoong, Ma Joong, Chiao Tai and Tao Gan talked excitedly about life in the capital and then got busy planning a real feast for that night in the best inn of the city. The constables were happily arguing about the exact amount of the bonus they would receive the next day.

  Everyone in the tribunal was happy and excited. But in the street ,there were heard the wails of the common people assembling in front of the tribunal, bemoaning the fate that took this wise and just magistrate away from them.

  Judge Dee, seated behind his desk in his private office, started to put the files in order for his successor.

  Looking at the pile of leather document boxes that the senior scribe had brought in from the archives, he ordered the servants to bring new candles. For he knew that this would be another late night.

  THE END

  TRANSLATOR’S POSTSCRIPT

  I

  The Chinese Text

  The original Chinese title of this book is Wu-tsê-t'ien-szû-ta-ch'i-an [Note 1]), “Four great strange cases of Empress Wu’s reign.”

  I have used three texts, viz. (a) a Chinese manuscript copy in 4 volumes, which seems to date from the end of the 19th century, (b) a small sized lithographic edition, in 6 vls., published in 1903 by the Kuang-i Bookstore in Shanghai, and (c) the most recent reprint in movable type, collated by Mr. Hu Hsieh-yin, and published in 1947 in one foreign vol., also by the Kuang-i Bookstore.

  The printed editions (b) and (c) are practically identical. The text of (a), however, is much more compact: it lacks many irrelevant passages contained in (b) and (c), and the contents of some chapters are rearranged in a more logical way. This manuscript is written in indifferent calligraphy, with many unauthorised abbreviated characters. Yet it is singularly free from real mistakes: wrong characters in the names of several historical persons occurring in (b) and (c), are here given in their correct form. It would seem that this novel — as most literary productions of this type — circulated for many years in manuscript form only, and that (a) was edited by a scholar, while (b) and (c) are based upon inferior manuscript copies. I have, therefore, taken (a) as the basic text for my translation.

  This book numbers 64 chapters, ch. I-XXX (which hereafter are briefly referred to as Part I) are devoted to the earlier part of Ti Jên-chieh’s career, and more especially to three criminal cases solved by him; ch. XXXI-LXIV (hereafter called Part II) describe his career at the Imperial Court. In all texts, these two parts differ widely in style and contents. Part I is written in a fairly compact style, and cleverly composed. The style of Part II, on the contrary, is prolix and repetitious, while the plot is clumsy, and the characters of the new persons introduced are badly drawn. Further, while Part I is written with considerable restraint, in Part II there occur various passages which are plain pornography, e.g. where the relations of Empress Wu with the priest Huai-i are described.

  If one reads the author’s own introductory remarks in Chapter I carefully, it will be found that his summary of the contents of this book recapitulates in a few terse sentences the main happenings described in Part I. The phrase “People who commit murder to be able to live to the end of their days in an odour of sanctity” refers to the young lady in the Case of the Strange Corpse; “people who commit crimes in order to amass riches” refers to the murders of Shao Li-huai; “people who get involved in crimes through adulterous relationships” refers to Hsü Tê-tai; the phrase “people who meet sudden death by drinking poison not destined for them” refers to The Case of the Poisoned Bride; and, finally, the phrase “people who through words spoken in jest lay themselves open to grave suspicion” refers to Hu Tso-pin, in the same criminal case. While thus the contents of Part I are indicated in detail, all the thirty four chapters of Part II are summed up in but one brief phrase, saying “People who defile the Vernal Palace”.

  Now in my opinion this last sentence is an interpolation, and the entire Part II a later addition, written by some other author. On the basis of the data available to me at present, I am convinced that Part I was an original novel in itself, entitled Ti-kung-an, “Criminal Cases solved by Judge Ti.” This novel ended in a way which is very typical for Chinese novels, viz. with Yen Li-pên recommending Judge Ti to the Throne for promotion; most Chinese novels dealing with official life end in a veritable orgy of promotions. In my opinion a later scribe of feeble talents added the 34 chapters of Part II, and changed the title, in order to make the book seem more attractive to the general public. For Empress Wu being notorious for her extravagant love-affairs, her name in the title would suggest a book of pornographic character[Note 2]). Further, the title "Four great strange cases of Empress Wu’s reign” is inapposite, inasmuch as Part II does not describe a “case” at all, but simply is a garbled version of some historical happenings.

  The present translation, therefore, covers only Part I, which I consider genuine, and which makes a good story in itself.The hero of this novel is the famous T'ang statesman Ti Jên-chieh (630-700); his biography is to be found in ch. 89 of the Chiu-t'ang-shu, and ch. 115 of the Hsin-t'ang-shu. It would be interesting to try to verify in how far the criminal cases related in this novel have any real connection with Ti Jên-chieh. His official biographies mentioned above merely state that as a magistrate he solved a great number of puzzling cases, and freed many innocent people who had been thrown into prison because of false accusations; neither these official biographies, nor local histories and other minor sources which I consulted give any details about these cases solved by Judge Ti. In order to answer this question one would have to make a comparative study of all the famous older detective stories. Here it may suffice to add that for instance the plot of the Poisoned Bride and of the Strange Corpse are used also in other old Chinese detective novels; cf. below, the notes to chapter XXVIII-XXIX.

  Ti Jên-chieh’s nine memorials to the Throne are to be found in the Shih-li-chü-huang-shih-ts'ung-shu, a collection of reprints collated by the famous Ch'ing scholar Huang P'ei-lieh (1763-1825), under the title Liang-kung-chiu-chien.

  II

  The Translation

  The translation is on the whole a literal one, but since this book is intended for the general reader rather than for the Sinologue, a few exceptions had to be made.

  In the first place, I aimed at eliminating all proper and place names that were not absolutely necessary to follow the story, in order not to confuse the reader with a mass of unfamiliar names. As an example, I here quote the second half of the first poem, heading Chapter I: In literal translation, this verse would read:

  “In balancing severity and leniency, think of Prince Lü and Tu Chou,

  “While being strict, yet shun the doctrines of Shên and Han.”

  Prince Lü was the ancient law maker after whom a chapter in the “Book of History” was named, and Tu Chou was a legislator of the Han Dynasty. The philosophers Shê
n Pu-hai (died B.C. 337) and Han Fei-tzü (died B.C. 234) advocated a more or less totalitarian doctrine, involving extreme cruelty to the individual. This verse I translated as follows:

  “Tempering severity by lenience, as laid down by our law makers,

  “And avoiding the extremes advocated by crafty philosophers.”

  By adopting this principle throughout my translation, and by referring to characters of minor importance by their occupation rather than by their name, I have reduced the total number of names occurring in this novel, which in the original are considerable, to about two dozen.

  Here it may be added that I have, quite arbitrarily, changed the family name of the warden of Six-Mile Village from Hu into P'ang, in order to avoid confusion with Warden Ho of Huang-hua Village. And I have changed the surname of the murdered silk merchant Hsü Kuang-ch'i into Liu, to avoid the reader confusing him with the student Hsü Tê-t'ai.

  Second, I have omitted at the end of each chapter the conventional phrase common to all Chinese novels: “If you want to know what happened next, you will have to read the next chapter,” and also, at the beginning of each chapter, the conventional summary of the last alinea of the preceding chapter. As is well known, this tradition originated in the tales of the Chinese public story teller, from which the Chinese novel developed. This same tradition demands that every chapter should, if possible, end at a critical point in the story, in order to encourage the listeners to deposit their copper in the bowl, or to make sure that they would come back to the story teller’s street corner on the next night. I have omitted these repetitious statements at the beginning and end of each chapter, but I have retained the original division in chapters, and also the original chapter headings in two lines, common to all Chinese novels.Third, I have sometimes interpolated an explanatory sentence where the Chinese text takes a knowledge of some peculiar Chinese situation for granted. At the end of Chapter III, for instance, it is related that Judge Ti sets out on a secret tour of investigation, disguised as a physician. Here I added the sentence: “Like all literati, he had a good knowledge of drugs and the arts of healing, etc.,” so that the reader would understand that this was quite a natural disguise. An ordinary Western detective would soon betray himself if he tried to pose as a practising physician.

  Fourth, I have abbreviated considerably Chapter XXVIII. The original introduces into the jail the entire Infernal Tribunal, the constables acting the part of the minor devils. This is quite interesting to the Chinese reader, who is thoroughly familiar with all these details, while for an uneducated woman like Mrs. Chou they are a horrifying reality. Since, however, a complete rendering of this scene would make a comical impression on the Western reader, I thought it would spoil the effect. Hence this abbreviated rendering, featuring only the Black Judge himself, and his two most important assistants, the Ox-headed and the Horse-headed devil.

  Finally, as observed already in my preface to this translation, the 17th or 18th century anonymous author shows a supreme unconcern for historical accuracy. He describes life as he knew it from his own observation, and conveniently forgets that his story plays in the T'ang period, about one thousand years before his time. I let stand many anachronisms, as when, for instance, the judge refers to the Sung scholar Shao Yung, who lived 1011-1077, or when he refers to Peking as the capital of China. Other anachronisms, which might spread further some misconceptions of the general reading public, I have eliminated; I mention, for instance, references to the Chinese queue (which was imposed on the Chinese in the 17th century by the Manchu conquerors, several centuries after Judge Ti’s time), and to the blunderbuss being used by the constables of the tribunal.

  Other minor alterations are recorded in the notes below. I hope that my sinological colleagues will agree that none of those alterations materially affect a faithful rendering of style and spirit of the Chinese original.

  III

  Literature

  For those readers who are specially interested in the Chinese detective novel, and in background material such as ancient Chinese criminal law and judicial procedure, here follows a brief list of the few foreign book; that deal with these subjects.

  Ta Tsing Leu Lee, being the fundamental laws of the Penal Code of China, translated from the Chinese by Sir George Thomas Staunton, London 1810. The passages from the Code given in the notes below are quoted from this translation.

  Notes and Commentaries on Chinese Criminal Law, by Ernest Alabaster, London 1899.

  Le droit chinois, Conception et évolution, institutions législatives et judiciaires, by: Jean Escarra, Peiping 1936. Although this work is mainly concerned with modern Chinese law, there is an excellent historical introduction.

  The Office of District Magistrate in China, an article by Byron Brenan, in Journal of the North-China Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, Vol. XXXII, 1897-1898.

  Village and Townlife in China, by Y. K. Leong and L. K. Tao, London 1915. Pp. 45 sq. give a good survey of the position and duties of the district magistrate.

  Historic China and other sketches, by H. A. Giles, London 1882. Part II of this collection of essays by the well known British Sinologue, entitled “Judicial Sketches,” is of importance for our present subject. Pp. 125-140, “The Penal Code,” gives a good summary of the contents and purport of this code, with interesting comments. Pp. 141-232, “Lan Lu-chow’s criminal cases,” contains the translation of 15 cases solved by the scholar-official Lan Ting-yüan (literary name Lu-chow, 1680-1733), when he was district magistrate of Ch'ao-yang, in Kuangtung Province. These, however, are real “case histories.” Judge Lan gives a faithful account of how he actually dealt with some crimes committed in his district; thus these reports are quite different from “detective stories,” they were written for instruction rather than for entertainment.

  Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio, by H. A. Giles, various editions. This book is a partial translation of the famous Liao-chai-chih-i, an extensive collection of Chinese short stories, dealing with weird or mysterious happenings. The able translator added copious notes on Chinese manners and customs.

  Lung-t'u-kung-an, Novelle Cinesi tolte dal Lung-tu-kung-an e tradotte sull' originale Cinese da Carlo Puini. Piacenza, 1872. An Italian translation of seven cases solved by the most famous ancient Chinese judge, Pao-kung. His complete name was Pao Ch'èng (999-1062), and he held high office during the Sung dynasty. His exploits are mentioned already in such early collections of criminal cases as the T'ang-yin-pi-shih, written in 1211 by the Southern Sung scholar Kuei Wan-yung. This T'ang-yin-pi-shih, I may remark in passing, became very popular in Japan, and served as model for Japanese collections of crime stories as for instance the Ou-in hi-ji and the Tou-in hi-ji the Japanese Sinologue Yamamoto Hokuzan (1752-1812) published a carefully edited reprint of the T'ang-yin-pi-shih.

  The Lung-t'u-kung-an, the collection of criminal cases connected with Judge Pao, is largely fiction. Today it is still the most popular Chinese detective novel, and some famous Chinese theatrical pieces are based on episodes borrowed from this collection.

  Some Chinese Detective Stories, an essay by Vincent Starrett; to be found in his “Bookman’s Holiday,” published in 1942, Random House, New York. Apart from some minor inaccuracies (a few of which are mentioned below, in my note to Chapter XXIII), this is a good survey of the subject, and, as far as I know, the only one existing in the English language. It must be borne in mind, however, that there are many more ancient Chinese detective novels than are mentioned by Mr. Starrett. The total number must run to well over a hundred. Although it is only in recent years that Chinese and Japanese scholars have started to collect and study Chinese popular novels of the 16th, 17th and 18th century, an amazing number of interesting volumes have already been brought to light. As is well known, old-fashioned Chinese literati considered all novels as inferior literature, and, although they read them with pleasure, they did not keep such books on their shelves. At present, therefore, one must search for such novels in the book stalls of Chin
ese markets, and in forgotten corners of obscure bookshops.

  I think that it might be an interesting experiment if one of our modern writers of detective stories would try his hand at composing an ancient Chinese detective story himself. The “pattern” is given in the novel translated here, while in the books listed above one will find a rich variety of peculiarly Chinese plots. That it is possible to write a fine detective story, which at the same time is acceptable from a scholarly point of view, is proved by Agatha Christie’s “Death Comes As the End,” the scene of which novel is laid in ancient Egypt.

  IV

  Notes to the Translation

  Chapter III. The function of the coroner is a very old one in China. There has been preserved an interesting handbook for coroners, entitled Hsi-yüan-lu, “Records of the Redressing of Wrongs,” which was compiled about A.D. 1250. A French version of this work appeared as early as 1780, in Mémoires concernant l’histoire, les sciences, les arts etc. des Chinois, volume IV, pp. 421-440, under the title Notice du livre chinois, Siyuen. Later H. A. Giles published an English translation of the enlarged edition of 1843 of this work, under the title “Instructions to Coroners” (in: China Review, III, and later in Proceedings of the Royal Society of Medicine, vol. XVII, London 1924). Although this old Chinese “handbook” contains some quite fantastic theories, it also shows a good deal of common sense, and gives a number of sound conclusions, based on shrewd observation.

  I draw the attention of those interested to a brief Indian treatise on the coroner’s work, to be found in a Sanskrit work of the 3d century B.C. This is the famous Arthasastra, a voluminous work on the art of government, written by Kautilya. Chapter VII of the Fourth Book, entitled “Examination of Sudden Death,” contains an ancient Indian set of “instructions to coroners.” Cf. the translation by Dr. R. Shamasastry, 3d edition, Mysore 1929, pp. 245 sq.