Part 1

Chapter 14,279 wordsPublic domain

WINNING BUDDHA’S SMILE

_A Korean Legend_

ADAPTED AND TRANSLATED BY CHARLES M. TAYLOR

BOSTON RICHARD G. BADGER THE GORHAM PRESS

Made in the United States of America

The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A.

TO MY MOTHER

WHOSE DESERVING FAR OUTSTRIPS MY POWERS OF ACKNOWLEDGMENT

FOREWORD

Many of the best portions of Chinese literature are readily obtainable in an English dress. From time to time bits of Japanese literature pass before English-reading eyes. But Korean literature remains, as it has remained for years back, virtually a thing unknown and unappreciated.

“Winning Buddha’s Smile” is one of the oldest existing specimens of Korean literature. Both the author and date of its original composition are unknown, but it is reasonably certain that it was well known in a dramatic form about the close of the fourteenth century.

At one time when religious dissension was rife on the peninsula, many of the monuments of a rich and abundant literature, especially those tinged with Buddhistic doctrines and thought, were consigned to the bonfire. In some manner, our legend escaped this wholesale literary destruction, and it is here presented to English readers with the hope that it will meet with an indulgent reception by the ever-widening circle of those who take an interest in the things of other peoples and other lands.

The translator is indebted to a French version of the original text, made by the Korean scholar, Hong-Jong-Ou, which was published under the auspices of the Musée Guimet. He has attempted to preserve the simple, child-like form of the narrative and has made few alterations in it, and these only when clearness and the English idiom required them.

C. M. T.

KOREANS WHOSE FOOTSTEPS CROSS THE PATHS OF OUR LEGEND

SUN-YEN, the Benevolent, whose Virtue and Goodness lead him from Prosperity through Adversity unto Prosperity again.

CHENG-SI, the Fair, his daughter.

SAN-HOUNI, a scholar and friend of Sun-Yen.

YENG-SI, the scholar’s wife.

SAN-SYENG, the scholar’s son, whose Merit findeth pleasure in the sight of Heaven and taketh him unto High Offices.

JA-JO-MI, the Unscrupulous, Prime Minister of Korea.

KI-SI, the young Prince of Korea.

SU-RUNG, a murderer and thief.

SU-YENG, the robber’s brother, a goodly man by way of contrast.

YENG-SO-YEI, a daughter of Korea.

OU-PUNG, a Sister of Religion and a follower of the True Path.

HONG-JUN, an innkeeper.

WINNING BUDDHA’S SMILE

In the far away days of the olden time when the earth was still in its childhood and when the city of Hpyeng-Yang was the capital of Korea, there was numbered among its inhabitants a high dignitary of the Court, Sun-Yen by name, who owed his exalted position solely to his intelligence and capability.

Although very rich, Sun-Yen looked down upon no one. On the contrary, he sought diligently to help all those who came within his sphere of influence. His greatest happiness lay in alleviating the sorrows of others. He was, therefore, beloved by the people who saw in Sun-Yen a most disinterested protector in whom they had absolute confidence.

Now one day, all things changed as all things sometimes do. Fortune, so long favorable to Sun-Yen, forsook him. Formerly happy and influential, our friend (for call him such we will) was to become the most unfortunate and the most miserable of men. It was due to the following circumstances.

The King of Korea was giving a grand and sumptuous banquet to the Governors of the various provinces and the ladies of the Court. The occasion was a very merry one. Shouts of joy and the chords of harmonious music were heard on all sides. When Sun-Yen was informed of this, instead of rejoicing with the others, he became a prey to great sadness. To get away from his own thoughts, he resolved to go visit his friend, San-Houni, one of the greatest scholars of Korea. So Sun-Yen, the benevolent, set out accompanied by his servant--a faithful and trusted fellow.

While on his way thither, his attention was suddenly drawn to a great crowd of people by the roadside. “Go, see what is the matter,” he said to his servant. The latter hastened--as all good servants do--to obey his master’s orders. He made a way through the crowd which had gathered and soon learned the reason for the gathering.

They were about to carry away several people who had died by the highway. As soon as the servant saw this ghastly spectacle he returned to his master and told him what had taken place. Sun-Yen was profoundly moved when he heard it but, losing no time in passive sympathy, he summoned a police agent, of whom he demanded, “Do you know what caused the death of those unfortunates?”

“Yes, sir, they died of hunger.”

“Why not carry them away then instead of leaving them there on the road?” continued Sun, in a tone of reproach.

“I was about to do exactly as you suggest, sir,” said the agent, who, with a quickened step, went toward the group which by this time had increased materially.

Sun did not continue on his way to see his friend, San-Houni. He went direct to the Palace and was immediately ushered into the presence of the King.

The monarch accorded Sun a hearty welcome, saying, “It has been a very long time since I have had the pleasure of having you come to see me.”

“Sire,” replied Sun-Yen, “I rarely leave the comfort of my humble home.”

“And what is it that keeps you so close at home?”

“Sire, either my duties or sickness. The reason I have come to see you to-day is because I have a very important revelation to make to you. Several of your subjects have just died of starvation by the roadside. The thing at first appeared incredible to me. I could not believe that, if my King knew the sad conditions in which so many of his people are living, he would give himself up to pleasure as you are doing. However, I have secured the evidence. Just a few moments ago, I saw with my own eyes three wretches who had died from want of food.”

These words seemed deeply to impress the King who, with a trace of emotion in his voice, inquired of Sun, “Tell me, what should be done? I can scarcely believe that this misfortune took place while I was leading this life of idleness and pleasure.”

“Sire,” continued Sun-Yen respectfully, “here lies the source of the whole trouble. Who pays the expenses of your amusements? Your people and no one else, and the Governors instead of doing their duty are also leading a frivolous and even vicious life. You can believe the words of your old servant whose devotion to your interests you are well aware of.”

“I thank you for this frankness,” rejoined the King, “but candidly I can hardly credit what you have just told me. I shall look more fully into this affair.”

At these words, Sun left his sovereign and went home and told his wife what he had done--the mark of a dutiful husband.

“You acted nobly,” she said, “but my intuition tells me that your devotion to the King will cost you dearly.”

“Why?” asked Sun.

“The King will not follow your advice. This is the course things are going to take, mark my words. The Governors, forewarned by your complaint, will not allow themselves to be injured and their pleasures curtailed, and upon you their anger will surely fall. Yes, I fear the consequences of to-day’s work.”

“Reassure yourself, my dear, the King took my words in a very good spirit and he has never yet made light of my advice.”

“I hope with all my heart that you are right. Let us see what time will bring forth.”

The King in reality did change his way of living. His conduct made him a bit remorseful. He promptly followed up Sun’s complaint and summoned his Prime Minister.

This official, who was named Ja-Jo-Mi, came immediately. He was a man whose severity of character and conduct had earned for him a terrible reputation. Although no one knew of it, he had conceived the scheme of usurping the throne but up to the present time had revealed his intentions to nobody.

The King demanded of his Minister, “Have you nothing new to tell me?”

“Absolutely nothing, sire.”

At these words, the King cried in an excited voice, “What, you, the Prime Minister, and you do not know that several of my people have just died by the roadside and that their death was caused from lack of food? If there is any one who should be well informed about what is going on in my Kingdom, it should certainly be you.”

“Sire, from whom did you get this news?”

“From Sun-Yen.”

“Ah, I can scarcely understand how this can be. I have just received the reports from the police and I did not see a single word on the subject of this affair, therefore, I am quite astounded.”

“However that may be,” said the King, “I command that this evening’s fete shall not continue an instant longer.”

“Your orders shall be executed. Sire, as soon as I have carried them out I shall return to my office and secure what testimony I can about this matter. The guilty parties shall have their just deserts.”

Bowing humbly before the monarch, Ja-Jo-Mi withdrew. A few minutes later and the Palace, which formerly echoed to the shouts of merrymaking, was in complete silence.

The Prime Minister, upon retiring to his office gave himself up to reflection upon the situation. He was greatly troubled because he feared that he might be removed from his office by the revelations of Sun-Yen. “That fellow is an infernal nuisance and might bring down the King’s wrath upon my head. To prevent a recurrence of such things there is but one thing to be done--to get rid of him by sending him into exile. With this dangerous fool out of the way, nothing, nor nobody, can oppose me in the execution of my ambitious designs and I can easily secure the throne.”

Such in substance were the reflections of the Prime Minister, but it would be necessary to find a pretext for the exile of Sun and Ja-Jo-Mi, the clever, was not long in devising a scheme.

He resolved to write a letter to San-Houni full of bitter criticisms and threats against the King. This letter he would sign with the name of Sun-Yen. Then he would place it in the King’s hands with the story that it had been found on the road by a police agent.

No sooner said than done. The letter was written. Ja-Jo-Mi, adopting a disguise, left his home and, dropping the missive in the path of an agent of police, passed on in the darkness of the Korean night. When the agent walked by he picked up the letter and naturally glanced around but there was no one in sight. He carried the note directly to his chief so that the latter could look over the contents and restore it to its owner.

The Chief of Police read the letter through with great astonishment. Desiring to give a proof of his zeal, he ran to the palace and in a mysterious manner demanded an immediate audience with the King. The monarch had the Chief of Police brought to him at once and was given the forged letter. One can well imagine the surprise of the King. Anxious for light upon the amazing situation he again called his Prime Minister.

Ja-Jo-Mi, the clever, came with dispatch. The King passed over to him the malicious letter, asking if he believed that Sun-Yen was really the author. The Prime Minister pretended to read the communication. He saw that the King was in a state of uncertainty and he determined to take advantage of it in order to ruin Sun-Yen, once and for all time.

“Sire,” he said, “it often happens that we are deceived by those whom we deem most faithful. As far as Sun is concerned, I consider him perfectly capable of this infamous business. I have known for a long while that he has been thinking and dreaming of taking your place on the throne. As for the annoyance which he caused you a short time ago, he was the principal instigator of that himself.”

“That’s enough, my faithful Ja-Jo-Mi. Have Sun thrown into prison. He will be tried immediately.”

The Prime Minister, rejoicing over his triumph, had Sun-Yen taken into custody. When the King was informed of his arrest he went personally to interview the prisoner.

“Do you recognize this?” he shouted in rage, holding out the letter.

Words fail to give an idea of Sun’s astonishment. He realized that he was the victim of a devilish plot but such was his stupefaction that he could utter nothing in his own defense. He burst into tears.

The King continued: “I would never have believed this of you.”

“Sire, I know nothing of this,” wailed the wretched Sun.

These words irritated the King.

“Ah, you understand nothing,” he cried. “Tell me, then, who is the writer of this letter?”

“In any case, it was not I, sire.”

“Of course. Now just listen to me. You have heard the proverb about the smoke?”

“Yes, sire.”

“Well, you know where there is smoke there is fire. I mean by this that if you had not been moved by evil intentions, you would not have addressed this letter to your friend.”

“Sire, I see whence comes this evil. The revelations which I recently made to you have stirred up hatred in the hearts of certain personages who desire to bring about my ruin. There’s a black heart at work. I swear to you that I am innocent.”

“So that’s all you have to say for yourself? That’s enough.”

The King withdrew, leaving Sun in despair. He ordered the Prime Minister to banish Sun at once and designated his place of exile as Kang-Sin. San-Houni, who was also compromised in the plot, was exiled to Ko-Kum-To.

Escorted to his home by an agent of police, Sun told his wife what had happened. The unfortunate woman was prostrated with grief.

“What did I tell you the other day,” she said to her husband, but she soon gained control of herself and regarded the misfortune which had fallen on both of them in a calm light.

“Let us be resigned, my dear. Doubtless it will be painful to live so far from our King and our friends but at least we shall have peace in the future.”

Without delay, they busied themselves with preparations for the departure. Sun summoned a few poor families to whom he distributed the little money he possessed.

’Twas but a short while and the moment to leave was at hand. Sun-Yen and his wife found it hard to break away from the embraces of their relatives and weeping friends.

* * * * *

_Here endeth the first step of our legend._

The journey of Sun-Yen and his wife to the Island of Kang-Sin was uneventful and they were soon alone in their new home. Their guards then returned to the capital.

What especially troubled Sun was the idea that his wife might be lonely and depressed in this isolated place. He spoke of this to her but she replied with a great deal of cheerfulness, “Do not trouble yourself about me. I have decided to follow you wherever you may go and I shall never find the time wearisome so long as I am with you”--the mark of a dutiful wife.

As a matter of fact, the days passed for our two exiles just as quickly as if they had been living among their relatives and friends. Very soon signs of Spring were to be seen. So Sun said to his wife one day:

“Spring time has come, it is a delightful day. Let us take advantage of it and go for a little outing.”

“With pleasure, my dear.”

“Good, let us climb the mountain if we can.”

They set out gaily. On seeing them one would never have thought they were the victims of Fate. They enjoyed to the fullness of their hearts the charm of the landscape which lay about them, and happiness was in their souls. Madame Sun was overflowing with joy.

“How peaceful everything is,” said she to her husband. “It is a real pleasure to be walking here alone with you. When we lived at the Capital I was never able to accompany you in your walks.”

“You are right. I was forced to conform to the customs of the country.”

“Now we are at the foot of the mountain,” she continued. “What a beautiful panorama lies before us. Just look at it. I feel a poetic instinct within me. Listen to these verses:

The day is beautiful; amid the shrubs Are fragrant blossoms, clustered in sweet sleep, The butterflies that seek them eagerly Seem poised to count each rain-bow tinted leaf. And stupid with the heat the serpent lies Stretched lazily along the languid boughs. Among the reeds that tremble in the wind, Deliberate leaps the frog, while swallows pass Bearing the insect-prisoners to their nests.”

“Do you know,” she mused, “these animals are happier than we.”

“What makes you say that?” queried Sun.

“Because they have little ones to care for while we have no children.”

“Console yourself, my dear, we are not yet so old that Heaven may not smile upon us. Have confidence in the future. But I think it is time to return. The sun is going down and you must be tired.”

The two returned slowly to their home, lost in thought.

Now it came to pass one night that Sun’s wife had a dream. She saw an angel from Heaven bending over her. She awoke, startled by the vividness of this vision, and immediately told her husband about it.

“Yes,” said the latter, “that is very queer but I shouldn’t worry about it. Fatigue has caused this nightmare.”

The truth was that this noble lady was soon to become a mother. In fact, it was not long before she gave birth to a daughter to whom they gave the name of Cheng-Si. Sun, the benevolent, was overwhelmed with joy--as one should be when Heaven smiles.

Unfortunately, his wife lay seriously ill. It was soon evident that there was no hope of saving her. Scarcely three days had passed after the birth of little Cheng-Si when her mother died. She sensed the approach of death and whispered weakly to her husband:

“My dear, I am going to leave you. I know that your grief will be very great but do not give yourself up to it. You must look after our little one. Get a nurse for her if you can.”

With a supreme effort the dying woman clasped her baby to her breast.

“Alas,” she said with a deep sigh, “this is the last time I shall have you so near me.”

Sun, in tones of deepest sorrow, said to his wife:

“Dearest wife, can it be true that you are going to leave me? We have always protected and shared with the unfortunate and yet the gods permit us to be parted. It is an injustice.”

His wife did not hear his final words. Death had already touched her brow and called her to her ancestors. Sun saw but did not wish at first to believe.

He called to his wife, tears streaming down his cheeks, but, alas, his words were unanswered.

“Now, I am all alone,” he cried in despair. “What will become of me and this child!”

He gazed fondly at his daughter who was still clasped to her mother’s breast. This sad sight increased Sun’s grief. He took the little baby and turned it over to the care of a nurse whom he managed to secure. Then, beside himself with grief, he busied himself with his wife’s burial.

All this happened so quickly that Sun-Yen thought it had happened in a dream, but the sad evidence was there before his eyes. Each day he could be seen walking to the spot where his wife was sleeping. These frequent visits merely aggravated his anguish and it was impossible for him to control himself.

Our friend was always in tears; he could get no rest nor sleep and shortly more ill fortune came to him. From having shed so many tears, Sun became blind.

This terrible blow almost prostrated him but he continued to drag out the same wretched existence. His greatest regret was in not being able to look upon the face of his little daughter. So passed several years.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, Cheng-Si was growing up. She was now in her thirteenth year and was obliged to help support her poor father who was without resources of any kind. She had but one way to keep Sun from starving and that was by begging. She went about this sad task without any false modesty. Her wits, however, were not asleep and one day she said to her father:

“There is something which I do not understand.”

“What is that, my child?”

“Father, how is it that so many other people can live with their relatives and friends while we are here all alone?”

“Ah, my daughter, it is very true that we must live by ourselves. But things were not always thus. There was a time when I lived at the Capital of Korea with your poor mother and we were surrounded by many friends. I occupied a high position. Our family belonged to the highest nobility and was always in good standing at the Court of the King. But, one day, because of a malicious slander, of which the King thought me guilty, I was exiled here. My friend, San-Houni, was trapped in the same affair and was sent to Ko-Kum-To. He shares our downfall for he also comes from an excellent family. I am very sorry that since my arrival at this island I have had no news of my old friend.”

“Perhaps it is not possible for him to communicate with you,” said the child in order to console the old man. “Excuse me, father,” she added, “it is time for me to go to work.”

“Go, my child, and come home early.”

Little Cheng-Si, the fair, walked at a rapid gait. She went first to the cemetery to pray a moment beside her mother’s grave. Cheng-Si was just as industrious as she was intelligent. She gave up her nights to study, while during the day she went from door to door asking alms.

One day, she went as usual to pray by her mother’s resting place. She remained there longer than usual and did not return home at the customary hour.

Sun, missing his daughter, was sorely troubled. At last, he resolved to go search for her. Leaning on his cane, he started out slowly and feebly. Unfortunately, when he came to the edge of a pond close by his home, he made a false step and fell into the water. He groaned to himself, “This is certain death for me, and my poor little girl will hunt for me everywhere.” And he began to shout lustily at the top of his voice.

Happily Sun-Yen’s cries were heard by the disciple of an anchorite who lived in a cave on the mountain slope, a short distance from the lake. He came running and soon had Sun out of the water.

He demanded of him:

“Where do you live?”

“Right close by.”

“But how is it that you, a blind man, go out alone? Don’t you know that you are running a great risk in doing this?”

“Yes, I know it. I never do go out alone. To-day, however, I ventured away from my home to hunt for my little girl. She did not return at her usual time so I went to look for her. That is how I came to fall into the lake from which I would never have come out alive without your assistance. You have saved my life.”

“I have only done my duty,” replied the disciple, humbly.

He took Sun by the arm and led him to his little dwelling. On the way, he asked of him:

“Will you have faith in what I am going to tell you?”

“Certainly.”

“Well, I predict, indeed I can read in your face, that your evil days will not last forever. Within three years you shall recover your sight and you shall become Prime Minister. Your fortune also shall be unsurpassed. To attain this goal you must pray diligently to Chen-Houang (the Emperor of Heaven).”

“Have I heard you aright?” cried Sun, beside himself with astonishment and joy.

“Nothing can be nearer the truth,” gravely replied the disciple.

“But what must I do? Tell me, tell me!”

“You must give me three hundred bags of rice and I will pray in your stead.”

“Alas, I cannot give what you require of me.”

“That doesn’t make any difference. I do not ask for the immediate delivery of the three hundred bags of rice. It will be sufficient if you bind yourself in writing to pay me when you have the means to do so.”

“I’ll accept on those conditions,” replied Sun.

The disciple passed over to him a paper on which the poor blind man placed his signature.

“I am obliged to leave you, now,” said the disciple.

“Then, good-bye, until we meet again.”