"One day as the Governor walked in his garden, a servant addressed him. 'Honorable Sir,' he said, bowing low, 'that fat wild goose would make a very fine feast. Its flesh is sweet and tender. Its flavor is fine. I pray you, kill it and eat it.'
"'Kill a wild goose and eat it?' the good Governor replied. That I will not. The wild goose is the bird of all the Five Virtues, In-eui-ye-chi-shin.'
"'How could that be, Honorable Scholar?' the servant asked. 'How could a bird know about the Five Virtues?'
"'Think, Man!' the Governor said. 'First, the wild goose is an example of love. It does not fight like the eagle nor hunt like the falcon. It lives in peace and friendship with its fellows. Second, the wild goose is a bird of excellent behavior. When it takes a mate, it observes all the rules of right living. And when its mate dies, the goose mourns her loss like a true wife. She comes back again and again to her former nesting place, alone and a widow. What wedding in our land is complete without the wild goose as a symbol of wifely devotion?
"'No, my good man, I should not wish to kill a bird with such a fine character. Watch the wild geese, how they fly. In order, and with ceremony, they make their procession across the blue sky. And what wisdom they show, seeking the warmth of the south in the cold winter and the cool air of the north when the hot summer comes!
"'You have seen for yourself, how they come back to our north country every year at the same time. Thus they keep the faith. Ai, the wild goose lives by the Five Virtues. Who would destroy so noble a bird?'
"Read the Five Laws to me from your primer, my young schoolman," the Korean Grandmother said when her little story of the wild goose came to its end.
"Amid heaven and earth," Yong Tu repeated in the singsong voice he always used in studying his lessons, "man is the noblest being. And man is noble chiefly because he follows the Five Laws. As the wise Mencius said,
"'There should be between father and son proper relationship, with love from the father and duty from the son;
"'Between king and his courtiers there should be right dealing, the king being correct and the courtier being loyal;
"'Between husband and wife, there should be kindness and obedience;
"'Between old and young there should be consideration and respect; and
"'Between friend and friend, there should be faith that is kept.'"
The boy drew a long breath. He had learned his lesson well, and he did not forget to add, "If man does not follow these laws, he is no better than the beasts."
THE
BLIND
MAN'S
DAUGHTER
Sim Chung's face was as smooth as a piece of ivory carving. Her brows bad the curves of a butterfly's wings.
THOSE words are as precious as clearest green jade, Yong Tu," Halmoni declared when her grandson had ceased reciting the Five Laws of Behavior. "But most precious of all are those that tell of the duty of a child to his parents. Obedience in all things, respect for the aged—those are the most important, and the ones which bring great rewards. Have I ever told you the story of Chung, the dutiful daughter of Sim, the blind beggar?
"Well, it happened five hundred years ago, perhaps even more. In a certain village there lived this good girl whose name was Sim Chung. Her mother was dead, and her father was growing blind. Chung was the one treasure of that poor man. Her face was smooth and white, like a piece of ivory carving. Her brows had the curves of a butterfly's wings, and her hair shone like the lacquer on the shining black table in Ancestors' House. In all her life no illness had ever befallen Chung. Not even the Great Spirit of Smallpox had been able to harm her.
"Chung was as good and kind as she was fair and wise. She wasted no grain of rice nor drop of kimcbee. She guided her father's faltering steps, but with his blindness the poor man no longer could work. Their possessions had to be sold, one after another, to keep them alive.
"When the girl was grown up, it was no longer proper that she go out on the street with her old father. The blind man crept off alone to beg for a few pieces of cash from the kind passers-by.
"One day he stumbled into a ditch. While he was trying to climb out of it, a firm hand lifted him up, and a voice spoke to him, 'Give me three hundred bags of rice for the temple, Old Alan, and in time you shall have your eyes once again.'
"Sim marveled at these words. When he found that the speaker was a priest from the temple on the mountain near by, he believed the man's promise and hope filled his heart. But when he repeated it to his daughter, sadness swallowed his hope.
"'Ai-go! Ai-go!' he wailed. 'There is no way for beggars like us to obtain so much rice.'
"But in a dream that night the dead mother of Chung told the girl of a way by which she might get the rice to give her father his sight again. The next morning the good daughter disguised herself in the big hat and the long coarse gray gown of a person in mourning for the dead. She covered her nose and her mouth with the thin white-cloth shield a mourner always carries before his face. So hidden, she made her way to the courtyard of a certain rich merchant.
"This man owned many boats which carried cargoes of rice to faraway China, but of late the River Dragon had barred his way by throwing the water up in dangerous waves. The toll for safe passage which the Dragon demanded was a beautiful girl. The merchant had offered no less than three hundred bags of rice to that one who would offer herself for the sacrifice.
"The merchant was sorrowful when he heard Chung's sad story. 'So dutiful a daughter,' he said, 'does not deserve to die.' But there was no other way for her to get the rice, so the bargain was made.
"Chung's heart was glad when she watched the long line of horses, carrying the bags of rice to the priest's temple up in the hills. But her heart was sad when the priest told her it might take many years for her father to see again.
"The girl bowed before the tomb of her mother and prayed her to send heavenly spirits to care for the old man until he should be cured. She also gave the blind man over into the care of her good neighbors. Then she set forth to keep her part of the bargain she had made with the merchant.
"When she was dressed for her journey to the Dragon's watery realm, Chung shone brighter than the sun in the eastern heavens. Clad in a bride's gown of green, and with jewels and bright ribbons in her wedding headdress, she rode at the head of the merchant's procession of rice boats.
"Soon they came to the place in the river where the Dragon barred the way with the lashings of his great tail. To save this poor girl, the merchant offered to give many bags of his rice to the river spirit. All on the boats wept for their hearts were touched at her great love for her old blind father. They, too, made prayers, but the River Dragon would not be satisfied by any substitute for Chung.
"So the girl bowed to Heaven and jumped off the side of the boat. Straightway, my son, the angry waters grew as calm as those of our garden pool. The boats passed safely across them and went on their way to the Flowery Kingdom of China.
"Whether many fish drew her in a shell, or whether she was carried along by the dragon servants of the Sea King, Chung never knew. She found herself floating between waving undersea plants, amid bright-colored fish. She caught glimpses of pearls as big as your fist and of walls of black marble. Then she was led into the palace of the Sea King himself.
"The bewildered girl bowed before this Jade River Dragon, and said, 'Honorable sir, I am only the daughter of the blind beggar, Sim. I am not worthy to come before one so exalted as you.'
"But the Sea King replied, 'The light of the stars finds its way down to our undersea kingdom, and a message about you has come to us from Hananim, the Emperor of Heaven and Earth. You will be well rewarded for your goodness to your blind father.'
"Sea maidens dressed Chung in fine robes. They spread out before her soft sleeping mats, and they gave her rich food. In this life of comfort and ease the girl grew more beautiful than ever before.
"One day her attendants led Chung to a giant lotus blossom that lay on the river bottom. It was so
large that they could hide her away within its fragrant heart. The Sea King bade her farewell, and the girl felt herself rising up through the water. Soon, to her amazement, she saw the lotus flower was floating upon the river, close to the boat of her friend, the rice merchant.
"'Never in Heaven or on earth was there such a lotus flower as this,' the boatmen said to the merchant. 'It must go to the King.' They were richly paid for it, and the King treasured none of his princely possessions so much as this rare, giant blossom. He went daily to see it in the special garden pool on which he set it to float.
"Only at night did Chung come out of her hiding place in the giant flower. Somehow its perfume served her as food, and the dew on its petals quenched her thirst.
"In the moonlight one evening the King came upon the girl as she walked on the bank of the crystal pool.
"Modestly she turned to hide herself from his sight, but her lotus-blossom shelter had vanished. The King was afraid at first she might be a spirit, but her beauty delighted him. The wise men who studied the heavens declared that on the day the lotus flower was brought to him by the boatmen, a bright new star had appeared overhead in the sky. With this good omen to reassure him, the King made Chung his wife."
"What became of the blind beggar, her father?" asked Ok Cha, who had come quietly into the room.
"That is the very best part of the tale, blessed girl," the Korean grandmother answered. "Now Chung was happy, as who would not be if she were a queen. But there were times when her heart also was sad. She thought often of her poor father, whose eyes were no doubt still closed to the world about him. One day her husband, the King, came upon her weeping as she sat in the garden.
"'Ai-go, great and excellent one,' Chung said to the King when he asked why she wept. 'It is a dream I have had about a blind man. His plight touches my heart. I should like to do something for all the blind in your kingdom. I should like to give them a fine feast.'
"One day, two days, and three days, the blind beggars of the land came to eat rice and kimchee in the King's courtyard. Peering at them through curtains, Queen Chung had hoped each one might prove to be her father. But the end of the feast came without Sim's appearing. The servants were just turning away a latecomer when the Queen recognized him through his tatters. She gave a loud cry. 'Abuji! Abuji! It is my dear father.' And she ordered the servants to be paddled for handling him so roughly.
"They dressed Sim, the blind beggar, in new clothing and brought him into the Queen's chamber.
"'What wonder is this?' said the blind man when he heard his dear daughter's voice. 'Do apricots bloom in the snow? Do horses have horns? Do the dead come to life? How can I be sure you are truly Chung unless I can see?' The old man rubbed his dim eyes, and suddenly, as the temple priest had foretold, his sight returned.
"When the King heard the tale, he heaped honors upon the father of his beloved Queen. He gave him a fine house. He appointed him to a high position at court. He even found him a wife to look after his food and his clothes in his old age.
"Then was Queen Chung happy all the day long. Then, indeed, was fulfilled the Sea King's promise of a heavenly reward to this dutiful daughter of the blind beggar, Sim."
THE MAN
WHO LIVED
A
THOUSAND
YEARS
THERE was great excitement in the Kim courts. The New Year, best of all holidays, was approaching. The big teakwood lanterns were getting their new flowered-paper panes. The beeswax candles were being counted. The needles of the women were flying to finish the New Year clothes for the family—white silk padded jackets, trousers, and skirts for the women and men, and bright green, red, and purple winter garments for the young children.
Yong Tu and Ok Cha and their cousins also were busy. The little girls were making bright paper flowers, and the boys were putting the finishing touches on their kites for the New Year contests. And as usual, Halmoni's room was the center of most of the family activity.
One afternoon when everyone sat there, bent over his work, Kim Dong Chin, Halmoni's second son, came seeking his mother.
"Here are the four pieces of the gate charm, Omoni," he said. "Shall I bind them up for you?"
"The thorn branches! The straw ox shoe! The foxtail grass! The salt bag! Ye, they are all here." The old woman nodded her head in satisfaction as she examined with critical eyes the curious collection before her. "Yé, bind them up!"
Yong Tu laid his kite down with great care and helped his uncle to tie the thorn wood, the ox shoe, and the foxtail grass inside the old salt bag. They made a neat packet about as long as an ironing club. Then the boy followed the man to the Outer Court, where the charm was firmly fastened above the bamboo gate.
"Why do we put such things over our gate, Halmoni?" Yong Tu asked his grandmother when he had returned to his kite making.
"Why else but to keep the bad spirits away, stupid boy? No charm is more powerful than this one. Each year a new gate charm must be made, lest the old one should be worn out by the wind and the weather and have perhaps lost its strength. I do not mean to be caught napping without such a charm, like old Tong Pang Suk. He had already lived for one thousand years; but if he'd held fast to his bundle of thorn wood and ox shoe, salt bag and foxtail, he'd no doubt be living still."
"A man who lived one thousand years, Halmoni?" Ok Cha questioned, her narrow black eyes shining with amazement.
"Some say Tong Pang Suk lived ten thousand years, precious ones, but my father declared that was far too long. One thousand years he lived surely. It probably happened because someone was careless in the Heavenly Emperor's Hall of Recording. There were kept the Books of Life in which all men's names are written down, so that the judges can determine the time for each one to be brought to the Jade Emperor's Heavenly Kingdom.
"Perhaps it happened that the pages for Tong Pang Suk were stuck together, or perhaps the judges turned them too fast before the book was put away behind the panels. But, whatever the reason, that old man's name was overlooked and no messenger was sent to take his spirit away from the earth.
"Even when Tong had lived out the full course of a man's life, no summons came. What could he do? He grew no older, for he was old as a man could be. He simply lived on and on, one hundred, two hundred, three hundred years.
"The friends of his childhood, long since departed to the Distant Shore, missed their old neighbor Tong. 'How is it?' they said to one another, and to the Jade Emperor as well. 'How is it that Tong Pang Suk remains so long on the earth?'
"One hundred, two hundred, three hundred years more it was before his pages in the Book of Life were found, and a messenger was finally sent to bring Tong Pang Suk up to Heaven. That messenger was a spirit, of course, but he took on the form of a man. Like Chung, the blind beggar's daughter, he disguised himself in the garb of a mourner. Hidden under his great hat, he wandered over the earth, looking for Tong.
"By this time Tong had become used to his great age. His days were calm, without wind and without cloud. And he spent most of them on the bank of a stream lost in the pleasures of fishing. The old man had no wish to die. His greatest fear was that the Heavenly Messenger might one day catch up with him. Each sixty years he took on a new name and he sought a new village so that he could not be traced. But always he fished.
"Somehow the Spirit Messenger heard of this old, old man who sat, always fishing, on a river bank. He thought perhaps this might be the one whom he sought, and he set a trap for him. Not far from where Tong fished, the Spirit Messenger threw many bags of charcoal into the river. Its black dust clouded the water so that it looked like ink paste.
"'Why did you do that foolish trick?' Old Tong inquired when he found the source of the blackness that was spoiling his fishing.
"'O, honorable grandfather, I'm just washing my charcoal. Soon it will be as white as the jacket you wear,' the Spirit replied.
"'Ai! Ai' exclaimed Tong, shaking his head. 'I have dwelt in this land for nine hundred years, but nev
er before have I met a man foolish enough to think he could wash black charcoal white.'
"The Spirit was happy now, for he knew he had found the man he was seeking. He followed Old Tong wherever he went, hoping for a chance to carry him off to the Other World. So close did he keep to the old man's heels that Tong Pang Suk guessed who he might be.
"'You are brave, learned sir,' Tong said to his spirit companion one day. 'The country roads here are dangerous. Are you not afraid to travel so far upon them?'
"'I fear not the country roads, nor any dangers upon them,' replied the Spirit who, in truth, was not nearly so quick-witted as Tong. 'There are but four things on this earth that I greatly fear, and wherever they are, there I am not.'
"'What are the four things the Great Man fears?' Tong asked politely.
"'A branch of a thorn tree, the shoe of an ox, foxtail grass, and a salt bag. Those four put together would bring me to my doom.
"'And you, venerable father,' the Spirit asked in his turn, 'what do you fear the most?'
"Now Tong, for all he was so old, was crafty and wise. 'The things I fear most of all,' he said to the Spirit, 'are roast suckling pig and the beer called mackalee.'
"Marvels come to man more often than you may think, my children. And a marvel happened that day. Suddenly beside their path Old Tong saw foxtail grass growing beneath a thorn tree. By the side of the road near it he found a castoff straw ox shoe and an old empty salt bag.
"Gathering up the shoe and the bag, the old man quickly left the road and took refuge beneath the thorn tree. He plucked a thorn branch from over his head. He gathered some foxtail grass from under his feet. Thus quickly he completed the charm, and he tied all four parts of it into a bundle, just like the one on our gate.
Tales of a Korean Grandmother Page 5
