Tales of a Korean Grandmother (14 page)

THE
WOODCUTTER
AND THE
OLD MEN
OF THE
MOUNTAIN

O
NE
summer evening after the eating tables had been carried away, Yong Tu sat on his grandmother's veranda with downcast face.

"What troubles my young
paksa?"
Halmoni asked kindly.

"I have been foolish, Halmoni," the boy replied. "I did not study today the pages of wisdom my father had set for me. Now he will not take me with him tomorrow when he goes to the country to look at the rice fields."

"And where were you, Dragon Head, when you should have been repeating wise words in the Hall of Perfect Learning?"

"The men in the Outer Court were playing a good game of
changki,"
the boy said, his eyes brightening. He still remembered how interested he had been in watching this popular Korean game of chess.

"Yé,
that's how it always is." Halmoni nodded her head. "While the old men play
changki,
the ax handle rots."

"What does that saying mean, Halmoni?" Yong Tu looked up, forgetting for the moment his disappointment about tomorrow's lost pleasure.

"Ai, blessed boy, the evening dark comes, but perhaps there is time for that story before you spread out your sleeping mat.

"The tale is about a woodcutter who might well have been called Min. He lived in the days before the trees on the mountain sides all were cut down. It would have been pleasant indeed under the grass roof of Min's little house, had it not been that his wife had such a bad temper. All the day long she scolded him. Even above the rat-a-tat-tat of her ironing sticks, her fretful voice could be heard.

"Who can blame that woodcutter for being glad to get away from such a shrew of a wife? He often sang as he trudged up the wooded mountain side beyond his village. His jiggy was easier far on his back than the blows his wife gave him with her ironing sticks.

"Like everyone else, Min often made a poem to honor the pleasures of a walk in the country. On this day he loudly sang this foolish song:

'Ho, the strong jiggy
Rests light on my back.
Of branches and twigs,
For my stove there's no lack.

'I'll pile them on high,
Then pile on some more,
Until I've enough
To still my she-tiger's roar.'

"There on that mountain side it was as quiet and peaceful as inside a temple. And because the sun was so bright and the sky was so blue, Min climbed higher and higher. He stopped now and then to bathe his face in the crystal water of a stream or to admire the wild flowers that grew amid the rocks.

"Then he came upon a little clearing hidden among the trees, just the place for him to rest after his climb. But there were those there before him. In the shade of a tree sat four curiously dressed old men. On a flat stone between them they were playing a game of
changki.
No doubt they played it in just the same way, Yong Tu, as the men you watched in the Outer Court this morning.

"With a polite cough of warning Min drew near the players. The old men looked up from their game and gave the newcomer greeting.

"'Our visitor looks tired. No doubt he is thirsty,' the oldest one said. 'Give him a bowl of
sool,
boy,' he commanded the young servant who squatted near by. Min sat down beside the Ancient Ones, drinking the good wine and watching their game.

"The Old, Old Ones played slowly. They studied each move, and their wrinkled old hands crept back and forth over their chessmen, like snails on the ground. In the soft warm air Min grew drowsy. As he watched the game, his head nodded. Perhaps he even slept, for his head would lift with a jerk, when a player cried,
'Chang,'
as he made a checkmate.

"At last Min opened his eyes to see that the sun was low in the sky. 'The she-tiger in my house will be angry if I tarry here longer,' he said to himself, and he started to rise up from the ground. What could have happened to him? His joints were aching and stiff. He could scarcely get onto his feet. And when he looked down at his clothes, he found they were ragged and tattered. What was this white hair that fell from his chin? His beard and his hair were as snowy as those of the four ancient
changki
players. And where were they now? There was no sight nor sound of them.

"'Those Old Ones must have been Mountain Spirits,' Min cried aloud. 'They have put their spell on me. They have taken away my good clothes and left me only these rags. They have stolen my ax. In its place they have put this crumbling stick of old wood and this rusty bit of iron. Even my jiggy frame has turned into dust, eaten up by the worms.
Ai-go! Ai-go!'
Min wailed. 'What will my wife say?'

"With tottering steps the poor woodcutter made his way down the mountain. As he drew near his village, his wonder grew even greater.

"'The village did not look like this when I went up the hillside this morning,' he said to himself. 'No such house as this one stood out here on the edge of the rice fields. My old friend Cho had no new grass roof on his house. Who are all these new people gathered about the foodseller's shop?'

"There was even a strange dog in the gate hole of Min's own courtyard. 'Whom do you seek, Old Man?' asked a passing youth, who forgot his politeness at the sight of the woodcutter's tatters and rags.

"'I seek the house of Min, the woodcutter. Is this not it?'

"'Yé,
this was the house of Min, but he has been dead these thirty years. His son lives here now, but he is out on the rice fields.'

"'And where is Min, the woodcutter?' the poor fellow asked.

"'That was a sad thing, Grandfather,' the boy replied, it happened long before I was born, but they say he went out on the mountain to get brushwood, and he never came back. Perhaps a tiger ate him up. Or perhaps the spirits carried him off for cutting wood from a grave site.'

"'But I myself am Min, the woodcutter, and this is my house,' the old man cried to the crowd that had gathered about. The people looked at one another in amazement and fright.

"Does a man ever return from the Distant Shore? Does he come out of his grave mound to live again?' they shouted. They began to curse Min. They shook their fists in his face. Then they ran away.

"Tears rolled down the wrinkled cheeks of the old woodcutter, for old he now was, as old as the ancient men of the mountain who had played
changki
under the tree in the glen.

"Just then there came toward the gate a very old woman. Her hair, too, was white. Her face had ten thousand wrinkles. And she carried a pair of ironing sticks in her hand.

"'Can you tell me where I can find the wife of Min, the woodcutter?' the bewildered man asked politely. He was afraid to say again that he was Min. This old woman, too, might curse him for a demon. But the old woman only stared at him for a moment. Then she began to berate him.

"I know you well, Old Man, even after these thirty years. You are Min, himself, and I am your wife. How could you leave me all this time to work my hands to the bone to feed our young son? You worthless fellow, I'll teach you to go away like that again.' She seized the old man by his white topknot and began to belabor him on the shoulders with the ironing sticks.

"'Hué,
this is good!' Min said, dodging her blows. 'Now indeed I am home again. Here is at least one who has neither changed nor forgotten me.'

"That, Dragon Head, is the story, from which we get the wise saying, 'While the old men play
changki,
the ax handle rots.' What does the saying mean? It means that if a boy spends too much time upon games, he does not get his lessons learned. Then he does not go on the good journey with his father tomorrow."

THE
GOOD
BROTHER'S
REWARD

A
NOTHER
family had come to join the throng which crowded the houses inside the Kim courts. Another brother of the Master had fallen into bad luck and had brought his wife and his many children to seek the shelter of these tiled roofs.

"Why do they come to live with us, Halmoni?" Yong Tu asked his grandmother. "Why didn't they stay in their own house?" The boy was not sure he liked having his cousins there. They wanted to spin his tops and fly his kites. They were so many that Ok Cha seldom had a turn now on the swing in the Inner Court.

"Bad luck sought them out, blessed boy," the old woman explained. "Where should they come but to their wealthy brother? And how should he do otherwise than make them welcome? Our gates are always open to receive guests. Even a stranger is here offered a table of food. How then should a brother be turned away?

"And if this custom is broken, my young dragon, disaster surely would follow. Have I ever told you the tale of the two brothers, the good brother and the greedy brother, and how each one was rewarded? No? Then sit down here beside me, and listen well.

"Once long ago there were two brothers, one rich and one, like your uncle, who had fallen into the hands of misfortune. When their father had mounted the dragon and ridden away to the Distant Shore, the oldest son took all the family wealth for himself. Instead of filling his father's place as head of the house and looking after his younger brother, he put him out of the gate to seek shelter and food and clothes for his family wherever he might.

"To give these brothers names, we might call the elder greedy one Koh Sang Chip. The younger one might well have been named Koh Sang Hun. In the fine Koh family houses, Sang Chip lived alone with only his wife. No children had been sent to bless his selfish days. Sang Hun, on the other hand, dwelt with his wife and several sons in a little mud hut. Its ancient grass roof had such great holes in it that the rain fell through upon that family as if direct from the sky. At night those poor young people slept upon their tattered straw mats on a cold earthen floor. It was only by lying, huddled together, that they could keep warm.

"By weaving straw shoes and by doing whatever jobs he could find, Sang Hun barely managed to keep his little family alive. But often and often his children cried out for food. Even the rats complained to their neighbors that there was not one grain of rice in that house for the stealing.

"'Send our youngest son to ask help from your rich brother,' Sang Hun's wife said one day to her unhappy husband. 'Surely when he sees that small boy's hungry look, he will give us a little from his great store of food.'

"But that greedy rich brother turned the boy away from his gate. 'I have food enough only for my own household,' he said roughly. 'My rice and my bean flour both are locked up tight in the storehouse. My bran I shall keep for my own cows. What extra grain there might be must go to my chickens. If I give you scraps from our table, my dogs will be angry. Go before they attack you!'

"When the little boy returned home, he was ashamed to repeat the cruel words his uncle had spoken. He only said, i have brought nothing. My uncle was not at home!'

"'Well,' said his mother, i will sell these shoes off my feet. Their straw soles are still good. They will bring enough cash for a little rice for our supper.'

"But that night luck found its way to the good brother again. Sang Hun brought home a rich treasure from his day of gathering wood out on the mountain side. This treasure was a root of the medicine plant called
insam
(ginseng). Even the King and the Queen drank
insam
soup in the spring. The medicine sellers paid Sang Hun much money for the
insam
root. His wife's shoes could now be bought back. Together with her husband she could again go forth to seek work.

"Sang Hun's wife found a place among women winnowing rice, and the man acted as a porter with his wooden jiggy frame on his back, carrying loads for the rich folk of the village. And so they got through the winter.

"Spring came, and the swallows flew back from the south to build their nests under the straw eaves of Sang Hun's little house. Soon there were baby birds in those nests. One day while Sang Hun was weaving sandals out in his courtyard, he saw a great roof snake glide out from the straw eaves towards the little birds. Before the man could drive the snake away, it had gobbled up all but one of the young swallows. That one had fallen out of the nest and struck the hard ground. When the man picked it up, he saw that one of its wee legs was badly broken.

"Gently big-hearted Sang Hun bound up the swallow's leg with splints made of dried fishskin. The children fed the bird and nursed it until it could hop about once again. Its wee leg was crooked, but it seemed strong enough and it began to fly about, chirping with joy.

"When the days began to grow short and the autumn nights began to grow chill, the little bird with the crooked leg hopped once more across Sang Hun's courtyard. It was chirping and chirping as if saying good-by before it flew off to the south.

"The next Spring the swallow with the crooked leg came again. It lit upon Sang Hun's hand, and into his palm it dropped a curious seed. On one side of the seed the man's name was written in golden brush strokes. On the other side were the words
Plant me! Water me!

"This little bird with the crooked leg could not talk, but my grandmother always told me the seed was sent to Sang Hun by the King of the Birds. It was a reward for his kindness in saving the baby swallow from the roof snake and for healing its broken leg.

Ok Cha seldom had a turn now on the swing in the Inner Court.

"Well, that seed sprouted and grew. Its plant climbed high up to the grass roof of that little house, and three enormous gourds hung upon its thick vine. About the middle of the Ninth Moon the man said to his wife, 'We shall cut the gourds down today. We can eat their soft pulp and we can make water bowls out of their hard shells.'

"When Sang Hun sawed the first gourd open, the couple saw a strange sight. Two menservants stepped out of it. They carried a fine table laden with silver bowls and bottles of wine. 'This bottle contains wine that gives men long life,' the spirit servants said to Sang Hun. 'This bottle has wine which makes the blind see. And this one will bring back speech to a dumb man.'

"The man and his family were silent with wonder as they sawed open the second gourd. At once their courtyard was filled with shining chests, with rich silks and rolls of shining grass linen. When the third gourd was opened, there came forth an army of carpenters with tools and strong pieces of excellent wood. Before the bewildered man's eyes there rose from his ground houses with tiled roofs, stables for horses, and storehouses for grain. Into his gates came a long train of bullocks, loaded with furniture, and with rice and other good food to fill his storage jars to the brim. Servants and horses and everything that a rich man's house holds came to Sang Hun out of these three magic gourds.

"Now news travels fast, and it was not long before Sang Hun's older brother heard of his good fortune. The greedy man came hurrying to find out how it had happened. When good Sang Hun told him the story of the swallow with the crooked leg, Sang Chip determined to try the same magic himself.

"With his cane he struck at every little bird he met during his journey home. Many he killed, but at last one little sparrow received a broken leg, and the cruel man caught it easily. He bound up the sparrow's leg with dried fish-skin splints. He kept it inside his house until the bird could hop again, just as Sang Hun had done. But there was no kindness in Sang Chip's cruel actions, and there was no twittering of thanks when that sparrow flew away from his courts. I have no doubt it twittered loudly enough when it told the King of the Birds about cruel Sang Chip who had broken its leg.

"When this sparrow with the crooked leg came back in the spring, it brought a seed for this brother, too. Greedy Sang Chip watched with delight when the green vine from it began to climb the side of his house. But the plant grew far too fast. It grew and it grew, until it smothered his entire dwelling. Its great creeping vines pried loose his roof tiles. Rain poured in upon all his treasured possessions. It cost him a great sum to have his roof made tight once again.

"Instead of three gourds there were twelve on his plant, giant balls almost as big as a huge
kimchee
jar. When the Ninth Moon came around, Sang Chip had to pay a carpenter several hundred strings of cash to open these gourds.

"Here were troubles indeed. Out of the first gourd stepped a troupe of traveling ropedancers. It cost Sang Chip much rice and many hundred strings of cash before those traveling dancers would go away from his courts. Even more money was needed to get rid of the procession of priests who came out of the second gourd. They demanded ten thousand strings of cash for rebuilding their temple of Buddha.

"Each gourd, sawed in two, brought fresh demands on Sang Chip's cash chests. A funeral procession, whose mourners had to be paid! A band of
gesang,
those singing girls whose music and dancing and bright waving flags always cost men so much! Traveling acrobats! A clown who needed much money for a long journey! A horde of officials demanding their 'squeeze' out of his tax money! And a band of
mudang
women, who threatened to bring the spirits of sickness into the house instead of driving them out! All these pests came out of the gourds to take away this greedy man's money. Jugglers, blind fortunetellers, and poets had to be paid, until but little was left. From the eleventh gourd there stepped forth a great giant who took his very last copper cash away from Sang Chip.

"'At least we have the twelfth gourd,' Sang Chip's weeping wife cried. 'Surely we have been punished enough. Surely there will be food or something else good inside this last one.'

"But when the carpenter sawed the twelfth gourd in two, there rolled forth clouds of smoke and hot darting flames. These destroyed every house, every stable, and every storehouse inside the rich brother's walls. His money was gone. His houses were burned to the ground! Where could the selfish man go now to seek shelter?

"'We must ask help from my brother, Sang Hun,' he said to his wife.

"'But will he not turn us away from his gates, as you turned away his hungry child?' the woman asked.

"'I do not think so,' Sang Chip replied. 'Sang Hun has a heart as wide as the sky. He follows the ways of our father, who always gave with a big hand.'

"Sang Chip was right. His good younger brother opened his gates for them and brought forth tables of food. And just as we give a home to your unlucky uncle, Sang Hun made a place for his greedy brother. That was as it should be, my dragon, for there was plenty of room in the fine houses with which the Bird King had rewarded him.''