LEGENDS AND FOLK-LORE.
It is not difficult to appreciate or understand the history of people
whose psychology is our own. We seem to look through white light in
gazing at their past as told in the words of a language that grew in
the same mental sunlight with our own. In eating fruit that grows on
familiar intellectual soil, we may sometimes recognize a slightly
strange flavor, but the pulp is good food which our mental stomach does
not reject, but readily assimilates. Truth, like the moon, usually
presents one side only, but the mass of mankind do not think of this,
even if they know it. They go on blissfully imagining they have seen
all sides, even the full orb.
With the history of the Aryan nations we are familiar, and think it is
clear to us. We insist that we know we can understand what they did and
that their thoughts need no translation to us.
A visitor at the American Centennial, or any exposition of the industry
of all nations, sees before him for comparative study the art, symbols
of religion, architecture, implements of domestic life, and all the
outward expressions of inward ideas. They are the clothed or concrete
soul of man under the varied civilizations of this planet. Standing
before the exhibits of India—the home of the Aryan nations—the man of
Western Christendom, as his mind’s eye surveys the vastness of
difference between him and the Hindoo, is yet able to bridge the gulf.
The researches into language, art, myths, folk-lore, show him that the
infancy of the two races was the same, and that modern differences are
impertinent accidents. At bottom the Aryan and the Hindoo are brothers.
No such reconciliation of ideas is yet demonstrable between the
Mongolian and the Aryan. Before the art, symbols, ideas, literature,
language, and physical presence of the man of Cathay, no bridging of
the gulf seems yet possible. He appears to be a man of another planet.
Language gives as yet little clue to a common origin; art and symbol
seem at the other pole, and in psychology the difference at present
seems total and irreconcilable.
Hence, to attempt to write the history of a Turanian people by simply
narrating bald facts in an occidental language, seems to be but putting
another white skeleton in the museum of nations. Even the attempt, by a
purely destructive method of criticism, to manufacture a body, or
corpse, rather, of history, by hacking away all legend and tradition to
get out what the critic is pleased to call “history,” seems at once
unnatural and false. It is like attempting to correlate the genius of
Shakspeare with ounces of beef and cheese, or to measure the market
value of poetry by avoirdupois. A history of an Asiatic people ought to
be as much a history of mind, of psychology, as of facts or dynasties.
Hence, in writing of a new and almost unknown people like the Coreans,
we think it as important to tell what they believe to have happened, as
to attempt to state what we think actually did happen. To understand a
people we must know their thoughts, as well as their physical
environment.
According to Corean tradition, the origin of their country and people
is thus outlined:
Of old the land had neither prince nor chiefs. A Divine Being descended
from heaven and took up his abode at the foot of a sandal-wood tree on
the Ever-White Mountains. The people of the land became his subjects,
made him their sovereign and called him Dan Kun (the Sandal Prince),
and his realm Chō-sen (Morning Calm). This took place in the time of
Tang Ti Yao (2356 B.C.). His first residence was at Ping-an. Later he
transferred it to Pe-yo, where his descendants remained till the eighth
year of the emperor Wu Ting of the Chang dynasty (1317 B.C.), when they
were established in Mount Asstak. His descendants reigned in Chō-sen
more than one thousand years, but nothing more is known of them after
the period covered by their reign. Then followed the occupation of the
country by the Chinese noble Ki Tsze.
The mythical origin and founding of Shinra is thus told in the local
legends of the place. After the invasion of Chō-sen, by the Chinese
emperor, many of the original inhabitants fled and scattered over the
east coast. They made settlements on the mountains, in the valleys, and
along the sea-shore, some of which in time grew to be cities and large
towns. One day the attention of the head man of one of the villages was
attracted by the neighing of horses toward a mountain. He went in the
direction of the sounds, but instead of a horse he found an egg of
extraordinary size, shaped like a gourd. Carefully breaking it open, he
discovered a beautiful rosy boy-baby inside. The old man’s heart was
touched by the sight, and he took the child to his home and adopted it
as his own. The boy grew up beloved of all who saw or knew him. When
but thirteen years old, the elders of the six principal towns gathered
together and chose him as their lord and master. They gave him a name
signifying “Coming Out of the West,” and to the country a name meaning
“Born of the Gourd-egg.” The new king took to wife a fair maiden who
was reputed to be the offspring of a well-dragon. They reigned for
sixty years, when their daughter succeeded to the throne.
In the fifth year of her reign she married a youth who had come from
afar, whose origin was as wonderful as that of her own parents. His
mother the queen had been delivered of an egg. Her husband, not
enjoying such a form of offspring, threw the egg away, but the queen
recovering it, carefully wrapped it in a silk napkin, and with many
other treasures put it in a box and set it adrift on the sea. After
many days the box was washed ashore on a distant coast. The fishermen
who picked it up in their nets thought nothing of it, and threw it into
the sea again. It drifted into one of the harbors of Shinra. An old
woman finding it, opened the lid and found a lovely boy with a smile on
his face. Carefully nourishing him, he grew up to be a man of strength,
nine feet high. He excelled all other youths in bodily vigor and
accomplishments. When the old woman first picked up the waif, there
were a number of crows standing around the shore, and the crone gave
him a name referring to the presence of these birds—“Opened in Presence
of the Crows.” Excelling in the knowledge of geomancy, he found a good
place for a residence and built on it. Hearing of his renown, the queen
of Shinra married him to her daughter.
One evening the newly made king heard a cock crow in the woods toward
the west. He sent his servants after it, who found a small golden
casket suspended from a tree. Under it a white cock was crowing. The
servant reported the matter to his master. Another servant was
despatched to the place. He returned with the box, which, being opened,
was found to contain a boy baby, who was given the name signifying “The
Golden Boy from the Grove in which the Cock crowed.” The baby boy grew
up and succeeded his father. In the reign of the twenty-second king of
the line, the people of the country, then called Shin-han, changed the
name of their country to Shinra.
In the “Grammaire Coréenne” there are a number of specimens of
folk-lore given in Corean and French, from which we extract a few of
the most characteristic. The first one is an illustration of our
universal human nature.
THE THREE WISHES.
There were once two old married folks who had not a single child, boy
or girl. Extremely poor, they lived a pitiable life. One evening, when
it was very cold in winter, after having supped, they gazed into the
fire in the brazier, and sitting in their room face to face they warmed
themselves a moment in silence, when the good old man thus spoke:
“For the rich the winter is an excellent season; their food is prepared
in advance. Having no toil they have only to take their ease. But for
the poor, it is a rough time when they have neither food for the mouth
nor fuel. If they go out over the mountain through the rain or the snow
to seek wood, they die of cold or frost.”
The good dame replied: “They say that Heaven is just. Why then does he
permit this? They say, besides, that when you pray to Heaven, it is
easy to obtain that which you need. If we ask to become rich—” said
she.
“You are right, do so,” replied the husband.
And both prostrating themselves, prayed fervently to the Deity, when
suddenly an angel appeared.
“In spite of your sin of murmuring, Heaven having pitied you, accords
you three things, after which you can ask no more. Reflect well,
choose, and ask.” Saying this he disappeared.
The old man made this proposition: “If we ask riches, freedom from
sickness, or long life—”
“No,” said the old woman, “we should not enjoy these things properly if
we do not have a child. What pleasure will it be?”
“Hold! I have not asked. What shall I do? If he had only said four
things at the good moment! Why did he say only three? Since we wish to
have a child, must we forego freedom from sickness, must we renounce
riches, must we give up long life? It is hard to decide. Think, then,
seriously this night, and decide to-morrow.”
Breaking off their conversation, both sat plunged in reverie. At the
moment of lying down to sleep, the old woman, stirring up the fire with
the tongs, launched out with this reflection, “If we could have three
or four feet of pudding to set to toast on this brazier, that would be
royally excellent.”
She spoke, and there was three feet of food placed by her side.
The husband, beside himself with rage, screamed out—
“Oh! what a woman! By one stroke you have lost all our benefits. To
punish you I wish the pudding would hang itself on the point of your
nose.”
Immediately the pudding made a leap and attached itself to the old
dame’s nose.
At this the husband cried out, “Hello! Angry as I am, I have also by my
fault lost a wish.” Seizing the sausage to detach it, they pulled,
first one, then the other, almost dislocating the nose, but the sausage
held on.
“Alas!” said the woman in tears, “if this is always to remain hanging
here, how can I live?”
The husband, on the contrary, without being at all disturbed, said, “If
even yet our wish of fortune is fulfilled, we could make a tube of gold
to hide this sausage, and then drawing it out at length, it will be
only more beautiful to see.”
The wife, still more miserable, cried out, “Oh, wretched me, only to
think that fortune should wish to put it there. Well! whether you be
rich or live long, as for me, I should like to kill myself.”
Saying this she took a cord and went to strangle herself at the end of
a beam. The husband, struck with fear, and touched with compassion,
hastened to set her free.
“Stop,” said he, “there remains one wish to us. Have your own way about
it.”
“If that is so, I wish that what hangs to my nose comes loose. Quick,
quick, that it may go swift away. That is my chief wish.”
She had hardly finished speaking when the sausage fell plump to the
ground, and out of the midst of the heaven an angry voice was heard:
“You have obtained the three things which you wished for, and have you
gained a great advantage? If you wish to enjoy true blessing in this
world be content to live with what Heaven gives, and do not form vain
desires.”
The two old folks spitted the pudding, ate it, and from this night they
abstained from foolish wishes.
On the morrow, agreeably to their supreme ambition, which was to have a
baby, they found a little fatherless and motherless orphan. Having
adopted it as their child, they gave him a good education and lived
happily to extreme old age.
The following illustrates official shrewdness and rapacity:
THE HISTORY OF A NOSE.
In the chief city of Chulla, there was a politician who was in debt to
the government to the amount of ten thousand strings of cash. Unable to
pay the same, he was condemned to death. Cast into prison, he awaited
only the orders of the king to carry out the sentence. As he had
thought hard without discovering any means to get out of the affair, he
bethought himself of a stratagem. So, addressing the jailer, he said:
“Helloa! you there, you’ll do well to let me go free a little while.”
“Helloa!” answered the jailer, “what wretched talk! After I have set
free a man who ought to be put to death to-morrow or day after
to-morrow, what shall I do?”
The prisoner replied, “Are we not friends both of us? If you do not let
me go, who can save my life? Think over it a little and see. My wife,
my children, my house, all I have, all my relations and friends being
here, where shall I fly? If you set me at liberty for some moments not
only will I not abscond but there will be found means for preserving my
life safely. Do so.”
As he thus besought him eagerly, the jailer, struck with compassion,
could not do otherwise than let him go.
So at midnight he presented himself before the door of the room where
the governor slept, and thus addressed him.
“Are you asleep? Is your excellency sleeping?”
Hearing the sound and astonished at recognizing the voice of the
officer who had been cast into prison and was to be executed in a short
time, the governor asked.
“Who are you?”
“Your servant,” answered the officer.
“A scoundrel who is at the point of being executed, how is it you are
here?”
“If I may be allowed to enter to salute you,” said the officer, “I have
something particular to say to you.”
“Oh, well, come in and speak.”
The officer entering, approached, sat down, and said:
“I pray your excellency to reflect and consider my purpose. If you put
your servant to death this will be simply one man of means less in the
world, and the money I owe will be lost to the government. What
advantage will you thus derive? If, on the contrary, you preserve my
life there will be one man more in the world, and I shall repay the
whole of my debt to the government. Let me then live.”
“If it ought to be so I wish you well in the matter.”
“Your servant will come again, then, to-morrow, during the night, to
see you.”
“Do as you will.”
The morrow during the night the officer presented himself anew and
asked to be introduced. Approaching he made the prostrations before the
governor, drew from his sleeve a packet which he undid and took out a
sketch representing a human nose. He immediately besought the governor
to please put his seal upon the sketch.
Agreeing to the proposal the governor imposed his seal.
The officer now associated three companions who were in the plot, and
they all assembled upon the coast of the Eastern Sea, where they found
a populous village, in the midst of which rose a high and grand
mansion. Taking their drink of spirits at a hotel in the suburbs of the
next village beyond, they prepared to sup. Addressing their host they
put this question:
“What is the name of the village which is just behind us? Whose is the
largest house?”
The inn-keeper answered, “That is the house of a very rich noble. Last
year he received the degree of the doctorate and is eligible to fill
very soon a very high position under the government.”
The officer taking with him one of his comrades repaired to the
mansion, where, as he noticed, everything showed abundant means, and
thus spoke to the son.
“As we have a secret affair to treat of, let us go into another room,”
said the officer.
They did so. “See here, the king is very sick, and they have called all
the physicians from all the eight provinces for a consultation. They
have declared that the only means to obtain healing is to find the nose
of a man just like this, and to concoct a remedy from it. This is why
we have been commanded by the Court, where they have said to us,
putting in our hand this sketch of the nose: ‘Without distinction of
place or person if you meet a nose similar to this, strike it off and
produce it before us in this place.’ Obeying this severe order we have
been out many times without being able to find a nose conforming to the
sketch, and thus far have made useless journeys, but now, without
peradventure, your honorable father’s nose exactly resembles this. We
demand to see him, and wherever he may be we shall not depart till we
have cut it off.”
The son cried out: “Perhaps they do say such things!”
“Who dare oppose the government business? Hurry, hurry, strike it off
and we’ll go.”
The son fell into a study and reflected.
“It is an affair of state. This is a matter which we cannot prevent.
Cut it off, they say, but to cut off the nose of my old father, that is
altogether impossible. The entire family, men, women, young and old,
every one will be plunged into woe. You can bear away the half of our
fortune at least, if you will go away without taking my father’s nose.”
The officer replied, “We had proposed to ourselves to depart only after
having cut off the nose. However, as this is a matter of a son devoted
to his father, and that they may not repress filial piety in others, we
shall not cut off the nose. If you will give us a certain sum we will
go elsewhere to procure a nose which we shall present to the king.”
He accepted with thanks a sum equal to many times ten thousand strings
of cash, for which he gave a receipt, told the sender of the money such
a day, such a place, and on leaving offered this recommendation:
“Upon the whole, say nothing of this affair. If it should leak out, and
the government comes to know that having found a proper nose we have
been bribed not to cut it off, we shall be arrested and put to death,
they will certainly cut off your father’s nose and take your money
also. Pray then be careful not to divulge this secret.” Upon this they
took their leave.
Overjoyed at not having his parent’s nose amputated, but believing that
the king on being informed would send again on this business, the son
dared let no one know until the day of his father’s death. Then
breaking the silence he said, “I have bought my father’s nose for ——
thousand strings of cash.”
The story here told explains itself. Cheng-chong was the Haroun al
Raschid of Corea.
AN INSTANCE OF ROYAL SOLICITUDE.
There was in Chō-sen a king called His Majesty Cheng-chong, who was
celebrated in all the kingdom for his goodness. One night, disguised as
a countryman, and accompanied only by a single companion, he started
out from the midst of the capital to make a circuit in order to inform
himself of the temper of his subjects, and to become himself acquainted
with the details of their life.
Arrived at a certain point he looked in the window. There was a
miserable house, of which the outer dilapidation, extremely pitiable as
it was, led him to suspect in the interior a state of things difficult
to imagine. Eagerly wishing to know what it was, he punched a peep-hole
in the paper door and perceived an old man weeping, a man in mourning
singing, and a nun or widow dancing. Unable to divine the cause of this
spectacle, he ordered his companion to call the master of the house.
The king’s servant doing so, said:
“Is the proprietor of the house at home?”
Hearing this voice the man in mourning made his appearance. His Majesty
saluting him said:
“We have never before met.”
“True,” said the man in mourning, “but whence are you? How is it that
you should come to find me at midnight? To what family do you belong?”
Cheng-chong answered, “I am Mr. Ni, living at Tong-ku-an. As I was
passing before your house, I was attracted by strange sounds. Then by a
hole which I made in the door, I saw an old man weeping, a nun who
danced, and a gentleman in mourning who sang. Why did the old man shed
tears, the nun dance, and the man in mourning sing? Unable to fathom
the motive I have made my friend call the householder with the purpose
of informing myself.”
The man in mourning rejoined, “Have you any business to know other
people’s matters? What is your reason for acting thus when it concerns
you so little? The night is well gone. Get back as quickly as
possible.”
“No, not at all. I acknowledge that it is not becoming to pry into the
affairs of others, but this is such an extraordinary case I beg of you
give me some light on the matter.”
“Alas!” said the man in mourning, “why is the gentleman so eager to
know other people’s matters?”
Cheng-chong replied, “It is important that I should be somewhat
informed.”
“Since the gentleman wishes so much to know, I cannot do other than
tell. This is why. My family has always been poor. In my hut one could
never find sufficient grain for a meal and one flea would not have
enough room upon my land to squat upon. I have no victuals for my old
father. This is why, morning and evening, in default of all other
resource, my wife has often cut off a tress of her hair and gone and
sold it to buy a cup of bean-soup, which she graciously offers to my
father. This evening she clipped and sold all of her hair that
remained, and by this she has become bare-headed like a nun. My old
father, seeing that for his sake his young daughter-in-law has become a
nun, broke out into mourning in these terms:
“‘Why have I lived to this day? Why am I not dead? Why have I thus
degraded my daughter-in-law?’ And in saying this he shed tears. To
console him, my wife said to him, ‘Do not weep,’ and she danced. I,
also, although in mourning, joined in with my wife. One danced, the
other sang. This made my old father smile, and perhaps gave him solace.
There! that is why we behaved so. Do not think it strange, and go
away.”
Listening to this narrative the king was impressed with such a marked
supreme devotion on the part of the son and daughter-in-law, even in
the time of deepest misfortune, and he said, “This is the most
extraordinary thing in the world. How will it do to present you at the
examination to-morrow?”
“What examination to-morrow?” asked the man.
“Why, certainly,” said Cheng-chong, “to-morrow there will be an
examination. By all means don’t fail to be there.”
The man responded, “But I have not heard it said that there is to be an
examination.”
“Whether you have heard or not,” said the king, “prepare to compete,
and present yourself. As I shall also present myself to-morrow I shall
give you a stall in the enclosure.”
Having thus spoken he took his leave, returned to the palace and
awaited the stroke of the great clock-bell.
No sooner did he hear the vibration of the mighty gong than he
immediately gave the order to announce promptly the examination in the
city, and beyond the walls, to the utter astonishment of the literary
men, who said, “Even until yesterday no one had heard of an
examination, and behold it was published during the night. What does
this mean?”
The poor householder on his part made this reflection, “Although I knew
nothing about it, this man knows perfectly,” and he started out.
On the way he noticed a crowd of candidates. Without hesitation he
entered the enclosure. The subject of the examination was: “The song of
a man in mourning, the dance of a nun, the tears of an old man.”
Of all the students not one could derive the sense of such a subject.
This man alone knew it perfectly well, because he had had experience of
those very things in his own house. He treated the theme clearly and
sent in his copy. The king having examined the essay and found it
without a mistake, gave the degree of doctor and sent for him to come
to him.
When they were in each other’s presence the king said:
“Do you know me? It is I who yesterday recommended you to present
yourself at the examination. Lift up your head and look.”
Fixing his gaze attentively, the man recognized who he was—in effect
the same person—and manifested his feelings in appropriate actions of
gratitude.
“Go quickly,” said the king to him, “go find your old father and wife.”
Forthwith, with high appointment to office joined to magnificent
treatment, the king recompensed the filial piety of the son and
daughter-in-law.
The royal renown has been handed down from generation to generation. In
truth, beyond the goodness of the king, the reward bestowed upon the
filial devotion of these two married people is known to every one.
Evidently the following is a story told by metropolitans to show up the
bumpkins of the provinces:
THE PRODIGIOUS EFFECTS OF A LOOKING-GLASS.
A young noble of Kiung-sang province was going on a journey to Seoul.
Just as he was about to depart, his wife called him.
“He! say now, listen to me a little. I have heard the mother of Mr. Kim
speak of a very lovely thing which looks like glass and pretty metal.
They say that if you look in it you will see a very curious thing. You
must bring me one.”
“Is it dear or cheap?” asked the husband.
“It is not dear,” said she. “It will be necessary to spend some money,
but if you heed the matter at all, it will be easy to pay for it.” This
is what the husband heard as he set out for the capital.
Having finished his business at Seoul he was on the point of returning,
having almost lost sight of his wife’s order. At last he recalled it,
asked the name of the object in question, and made the purchase of a
mirror through one of his friends. In his eagerness to get home he put
his wife’s commission in his wallet without even looking at it. When he
arrived home, she hastened to take out the mirror. At once she
perceived in it a woman. Immediately she began to weep and to berate
her husband.
“Oh the villain! not only to play himself the vagabond and debauchee
but to bring along a concubine! Is it possible? This woman, what is
she?”
The amazed husband looked in the mirror, and at the side of his wife
perceived a man. Unable to contain his wrath which made his face first
dark and then blue, he uttered piercing cries.
“Is this the conduct for the wife of a noble. You have brought a
libertine here,” cried he.
He was about to murder his wife, when his old mother hearing the
squabble came in to know what it was. At sight of the old woman the
quarrel ceased on either side. Pointing at the mirror, the rivals spoke
both at once. The weeping daughter-in-law raved about a concubine, the
son, even more angry, talked of a paramour. As the couple had never
quarrelled before, there was no way of accounting for the mystery.
“Do not be vexed,” said she, and looking in the mirror she saw a woman.
At once she broke out into a laugh.
“Is it because you see the old woman, your neighbor, that you dispute?
The widow Pak has come to get some fire,” said she, and she went out to
speak to her, but she was not there.
Astonished, she called her husband and said to him
“There is in the children’s room a very funny thing. You can see in it
all kinds of extraordinary things and they are bickering over it. Come
and see a little.”
The venerable gentleman having entered the room perceived in the mirror
an aged man.
“Hello! the puppy of the teacher Tsoi has come to collect his fees and
I have not a penny. That is not very nice.”
The people of the village, one by one, two by two, all without
exception looked at the mirror, but unable to comprehend anything, they
made a tumult. Curious to know what should result, they carried it to
the magistrate. At sight of the instrument, the man of authority more
astonished than the others, called the policemen and gave them this
order:
“A new officer has arrived, why have I lost my place? Get ready men and
horses for him.”
Really believing that he had been cashiered he prepared to leave, when
a young policeman after a careful examination of the mirror, pointed
out the manner in which the visage of each individual was reflected.