Korean Tales (Serapis Classics) Page 10

  “Don’t mention her name,” said the old man, angrily. “You are not worthy to speak of her. She is dying in prison, because of her loyal devotion to the brute beast who married and deserted her.”

  Ye Toh Ryung could hear no more. He hurried from the place, and finding his attendants, announced his intention of going at once into the city, lest the officials should hear of his presence and prepare for him. Entering the city, he went direct to Chun Yang Ye’s house. It presented little of the former pleasant appearance. Most of the rich furniture had been sold to buy comforts for the imprisoned girl. The mother, seeing him come, and supposing him to be a beggar, almost shrieked at him to get away. “Are you such a stranger, that you don’t know the news? My only child is imprisoned, my husband long since dead, my property almost gone, and you come to me for alms. Begone, and learn the news of the town.”

  “Look! Don’t you know me? I am Ye Toh Ryung, your son-in-law,” he said.

  “Ye Toh Ryung, and a beggar! Oh, it cannot be. Our only hope is in you, and now you are worse than helpless. My poor girl will die.”

  “What is the matter with her?” said he, pretending.

  The woman related the history of the past months in full, not sparing the man in the least, giving him such a rating as only a woman can. He then asked to be taken to the prison, and she accompanied him with a strange feeling of gratification in her heart that after all she was right, and her daughter’s confidence was ill-placed. Arriving at the prison, the mother expressed her feelings by calling to her daughter: “Here is your wonderful husband. You have been so anxious to simply see Ye Toh Ryung before you die; here he is; look at the beggar, and see what your devotion amounts to! Curse him and send him away.”

  The Ussa called to her, and she recognized the voice. “I surely must be dreaming again,” she said, as she tried to arise; but she had the huge neck-encircling board upon her shoulders that marked the latest of her tormentor’s acts of oppression, and could not get up. Stung by the pain and the calmness of her lover’s voice, she sarcastically asked: “Why have you not come to me? Have you been so busy in official life? Have the rivers been so deep and rapid that you dared not cross them? Did you go so far away that it has required all this time to retrace your steps?” And then, regretting her harsh words, she said: “I cannot tell my rapture. I had expected to have to go to Heaven to meet you, and now you are here. Get them to unbind my feet, and remove this yoke from my neck, that I may come to you.”

  He came to the little window through which food is passed, and looked upon her. As she saw his face and garb, she moaned: “Oh, what have we done to be so afflicted? You cannot help me now; we must die. Heaven has deserted us.”

  “Yes,” he answered; “granting I am poor, yet should we not be happy in our reunion. I have come as I promised, and we will yet be happy. Do yourself no injury, but trust to me.”

  She called her mother, who sneeringly inquired of what service she could be, now that the longed-for husband had returned in answer to her prayers. She paid no attention to these cruel words, but told her mother of certain jewels she had concealed in a case in her room. “Sell these,” she said, “and buy some food and raiment for my husband; take him home and care for him well. Have him sleep on my couch, and do not reproach him for what he cannot help.”

  He went with the old woman, but soon left to confer with his attendants, who informed him that the next day was the birthday of the Magistrate, and that great preparations were being made for the celebration that would commence early. A great feast, when wine would flow like water, was to take place in the morning. The gee sang from the whole district were to perform for the assembled guests; bands of music were practising for the occasion, and the whole bade fair to be a great, riotous debauch, which would afford the Ussa just the opportunity the consummation of his plans awaited.

  Early the next morning the disguised Ussa presented himself at the yamen gate, where the servants jeered at him, telling him: “This is no beggars' feast,” and driving him away. He hung around the street, however, listening to the music inside, and finally he made another attempt, which was more successful than the first, for the servants, thinking him crazy, tried to restrain him, when, in the melée, he made a passage and rushed through the inner gate into the court off the reception hall. The annoyed host, red with wine, ordered him at once ejected and the gate men whipped. His order was promptly obeyed, but Ye did not leave the place. He found a break in the outside wall, through which he climbed, and again presented himself before the feasters. While the Prefect was too blind with rage to be able to speak, the stranger said: “I am a beggar, give me food and drink that I, too, may enjoy myself.” The guests laughed at the man’s presumption, and thinking him crazy, they urged their host to humor him for their entertainment. To which he finally consented, and, sending him some food and wine, bade him stay in a corner and eat.

  To the surprise of all, the fellow seemed still discontented, for he claimed that, as the other guests each had a fair gee sang to sing a wine song while they drank, he should be treated likewise. This amused the guests immensely, and they got the master to send one. The girl went with a poor grace, however, saying: “One would think from the looks of you that your poor throat would open to the wine without a song to oil it,” and sang him a song that wished him speedy death instead of long life.

  After submitting to their taunts for some time, he said, “I thank you for your food and wine and the graciousness of my reception, in return for which I will amuse you by writing you some verses”; and, taking pencil and paper, he wrote: “The oil that enriches the food of the official is but the life blood of the down-trodden people, whose tears are of no more merit in the eyes of the oppressor than the drippings of a burning candle.”

  When this was read, a troubled look passed over all; the guests shook their heads and assured their host that it meant ill to him. And each began to make excuses, saying that one and another engagement of importance called them hence. The host laughed and bade them be seated, while he ordered attendants to take the intruder and cast him into prison for his impudence. They came to do so, but the Ussa took out his official seal, giving the preconcerted signal meanwhile, which summoned his ready followers. At sight of the King’s seal terror blanched the faces of each of the half-drunken men. The wicked host tried to crawl under the house and escape, but he was at once caught and bound with chains. One of the guests in fleeing through an attic-way caught his topknotof hair in a rat-hole, and stood for some time yelling for mercy, supposing that his captors had him. It was as though an earthquake had shaken the house; all was the wildest confusion.

  The Ussa put on decent clothes and gave his orders in a calm manner. He sent the Magistrate to the capital at once, and began to look further into the affairs of the office. Soon, however, he sent a chair for Chun Yang Ye, delegating his own servants, and commanding them not to explain what had happened. She supposed that the Magistrate, full of wine, had sent for her, intending to kill her, and she begged the amused servants to call her Toh Ryung to come and stay with her. They assured her that he could not come, as already he too was at the yamen, and she feared that harm had befallen him on her account.

  They removed her shackles and bore her to the yamen, where the Ussa addressed her in a changed voice, commanding her to look up and answer her charges. She refused to look up or speak, feeling that the sooner death came the better. Failing in this way, he then asked her in his own voice to just glance at him. Surprised she looked up, and her dazed eyes saw her lover standing there in his proper guise, and with a delighted cry she tried to run to him, but fainted in the attempt, and was borne in his arms to a room. Just then the old woman, coming along with food, which she had brought as a last service to her daughter, heard the good news from the excited throng outside, and dashing away her dishes and their contents, she tore around for joy, crying: “What a delightful birthday surprise for a cruel magistrate!”

  All the people
rejoiced with the daughter, but no one seemed to think the old mother deserved such good fortune. The Ussa’s conduct was approved at court. A new magistrate was appointed. The marriage was publicly solemnized at Seoul, and the Ussa was raised to a high position, in which he was just to the people, who loved him for his virtues, while the country rang with the praises of his faithful wife, who became the mother of many children.

  SIM CHUNG, THE DUTIFUL DAUGHTER.

  Sim Hyun, or Mr. Sim, was highly esteemed in the Korean village in which he resided. He belonged to the Yang Ban, or gentleman class, and when he walked forth it was with the stately swinging stride of the gentleman, while if he bestrode his favorite donkey, or was carried in his chair, a runner went ahead calling out to the commoners to clear the road. His rank was not high, and though greatly esteemed as a scholar, his income would scarcely allow of his taking the position he was fitted to occupy.

  His parents had been very fortunate in betrothing him to a remarkably beautiful and accomplished maiden, daughter of a neighboring gentleman. She was noted for beauty and grace, while her mental qualities were the subject of continual admiration. She could not only read and write her native ernmun, but was skilled in Chinese characters, while her embroidered shoes, pockets, and other feminine articles were the pride of her mother and friends. She had embroidered a set of historic panels, which her father sent to the King. His Majesty mentioned her skill with marked commendation, and had the panels made up into a screen which for some time stood behind his mat, and continually called forth his admiration.

  Sim had not seemed very demonstrative in regard to his approaching nuptials, but once he laid his eyes upon his betrothed, as she unveiled at the ceremony, he was completely captivated, and brooked with poor grace the formalities that had to be gone through before he could claim her as his constant companion.

  It was an exceptionally happy union, the pair being intellectually suited to each other, and each apparently possessing the bodily attributes necessary to charm the other. There was never a sign of disgust or disappointment at the choice their parents had made for them. They used to wander out into the little garden off the women’s quarters, and sit in the moonlight, planning for the future, and enjoying the products of each other’s well stored mind. It was their pet desire to have a son, and all their plans seemed to centre around this one ambition; the years came and went, however, but their coveted blessing was withheld, the wife consulted priestesses, and the husband, from long and great disappointment, grew sad at heart and cared but little for mingling with the world, which he thought regarded him with shame. He took to books and began to confine himself to his own apartments, letting his poor wife stay neglected and alone in the apartments of the women. From much study, lack of exercise, and failing appetite, he grew thin and emaciated, and his eyes began to show the wear of over-work and innutrition. The effect upon his wife was also bad, but, with a woman’s fortitude and patience, she bore up and hoped in spite of constant disappointment. She worried over her husband’s condition and felt ashamed that she had no name in the world, other than the wife of Sim, while she wished to be known as the mother of the Sim of whom they had both dreamed by day and by night till dreams had almost left them.

  After fifteen years of childless waiting, the wife of Sim dreamed again; this time her vision was a brilliant one, and in it she saw a star come down to her from the skies above; the dream awakened her, and she sent for her husband to tell him that she knew their blessing was about to come to them; she was right, a child was given to them, but, to their great dismay, it was only a girl. Heaven had kindly prepared the way for the little visitor, however; for after fifteen years weary waiting, they were not going to look with serious disfavor upon a girl, however much their hopes had been placed upon the advent of a son.

  The child grew, and the parents were united as they only could be by such a precious bond. The ills of childhood seemed not to like the little one, even the virus of small-pox, that was duly placed in her nostril, failed to innoculate her, and her pretty skin remained fresh and soft like velvet, and totally free from the marks of the dread disease.

  At three years of age she bade fair to far surpass her mother’s noted beauty and accomplishments. Her cheeks were full-blown roses, and whenever she opened her dainty curved mouth, ripples of silvery laughter, or words of mature wisdom, were sure to be given forth. The hearts of the parents, that had previously been full of tears, were now light, and full of contentment and joy; while they were constantly filled with pride by the reports of the wonderful wisdom of their child that continually came to them. The father forgot that his offspring was not a boy, and had his child continually by his side to guide his footsteps, as his feeble eyes refused to perform their office.

  Just as their joy seemed too great to be lasting, it was suddenly checked by the death of the mother, which plunged them into a deep grief from which the father emerged totally blind. It soon became a question as to where the daily food was to come from; little by little household trinkets were given to the brokers to dispose of, and in ten years they had used up the homestead, and all it contained.

  The father was now compelled to ask alms, and as his daughter was grown to womanhood, she could no longer direct his footsteps as he wandered out in the darkness of the blind. One day in his journeying he fell into a deep ditch, from which he could not extricate himself. After remaining in this deplorable condition for some time he heard a step, and called out for assistance, saying: “I am blind, not drunk,” whereupon the passing stranger said: “I know full well you are not drunk. True, you are blind, yet not incurably so.”

  “Why, who are you that you know so much about me?” asked the blind man.

  “I am the old priest of the temple in the mountain fortress.”

  “Well, what is this that you say about my not being permanently blind?”

  “I am a prophet, and I have had a vision concerning you. In case you make an offering of three hundred bags of rice to the Buddha of our temple, you will be restored to sight, you will be given rank and dignity, while your daughter will become the first woman in all Korea.”

  “But I am poor, as well as blind,” was the reply. “How can I promise such a princely offering?”

  “You may give me your order for it, and pay it along as you are able,” said the priest.

  “Very well, give me pencil and paper,” whereupon they retired to a house, and the blind man gave his order for the costly price of his sight. Returning home weary, bruised, and hungry, he smiled to himself, in spite of his ill condition, at the thought of his giving an order for so much rice when he had not a grain of it to eat.

  He obtained, finally, a little work in pounding rice in the stone mortars. It was hard labor for one who had lived as he had done; but it kept them from starving, and his daughter prepared his food for him as nicely as she knew how. One night, as the dinner was spread on the little, low table before him, sitting on the floor, the priest came and demanded his pay; the old blind man lost his appetite for his dinner, and refused to eat. He had to explain to his daughter the compact he had made with the priest, and, while she was filled with grief, and dismayed at the enormity of the price, she yet seemed to have some hope that it might be accomplished and his sight restored.

  That night, after her midnight bath, she lay down on a mat in the open air, and gazed up to heaven, to which she prayed that her poor father might be restored to health and sight. While thus engaged, she fell asleep and dreamed that her mother came down from heaven to comfort her, and told her not to worry, that a means would be found for the payment of the rice, and that soon all would be happy again in the little family.

  The next day she chanced to hear of the wants of a great merchant who sailed in his large boats to China for trade, but was greatly distressed by an evil spirit that lived in the water through which he must pass. For some time, it was stated, he had not been able to take his boats over this dangerous place, and his loss therefro
m was very great. At last it was reported that he was willing and anxious to appease the spirit by making the offering the wise men had deemed necessary. Priests had told him that the sacrifice of a young maiden to the spirit would quiet it and remove the trouble. He was, therefore, anxious to find the proper person, and had offered a great sum to obtain such an one.

  Sim Chung (our heroine), hearing of this, decided that it must be the fulfilment of her dream, and having determined to go and offer herself, she put on old clothes and fasted while journeying, that she might look wan and haggard, like one in mourning. She had previously prepared food for her father, and explained to him that she wished to go and bow at her mother’s grave, in return to her for having appeared to her in a dream.

  When the merchant saw the applicant, he was at once struck with her beauty and dignity of carriage, in spite of her attempt to disguise herself. He said that it was not in his heart to kill people especially maidens of such worth as she seemed to be. He advised her not to apply; but she told her story and said she would give herself for the three hundred bags of rice. “Ah! now I see the true nobility of your character. I did not know that such filial piety existed outside the works of the ancients. I will send to my master and secure the rice,” said the man, who happened to be but an overseer for a greater merchant.

  She got the rice and took it to the priest in a long procession of one hundred and fifty ponies, each laboring under two heavy bags; the debt cancelled and her doom fixed, she felt the relaxation and grief necessarily consequent upon such a condition. She could not explain to her father, she mourned over the loneliness that would come to him after she was gone, and wondered how he would support himself after she was removed and until his sight should be restored. She lay down and prayed to heaven, saying: “I am only fourteen years old, and have but four more hours to live. What will become of my poor father? Oh! who will care for him? Kind heaven, protect him when I am gone.” Wild with grief she went and sat on her father’s knee, but could not control her sobs and tears; whereupon he asked her what the trouble could be. Having made up her mind that the time had come, and that the deed was done and could not be remedied, she decided to tell him, and tried to break it gently; but when the whole truth dawned upon the poor old man it nearly killed him. He clasped her close to his bosom, and crying: “My child, my daughter, my only comfort, I will not let you go. What will eyes be to me if I can no longer look upon your lovely face?” They mingled their tears and sobs, and the neighbors, hearing the commotion in the usually quiet hut, came to see what was the trouble. Upon ascertaining the reason of the old man’s grief, they united in the general wailing. Sim Chung begged them to come and care for the old man when she could look after him no more, and they agreed to do so. While the wailing and heart breaking was going on, a stranger rode up on a donkey and asked for the Sim family. He came just in time to see what the act was costing the poor people. He comforted the girl by giving her a cheque for fifty bags of rice for the support of the father when his daughter should be no more. She took it gratefully and gave it to the neighbors to keep in trust; she then prepared herself, took a last farewell, and left her fainting father to go to her bed in the sea.