The Cloud Dream of the Nine [Kuunmong] A Korean Novel: A story of the times of the Tangs of China about 840 A.D. By Kim Man-Choong [Kim Man-jung] [President of the Confucian College] [1617-1682 A.D. according to the title page, but 1637-1692 (or 1693) Gregorian calendar by standard sources] [Written in or after 1689] Translated [from Korean (Hangul) to English] by [Rev.] James S[carth] Gale [Canadian, 1863-1937] thirty years resident in Korea (by 1922) With an Introduction by Elspet Keith Robertson Scott and Sixteen Illustrations Published by Daniel O'Connor, London: 90 Great Russell Street, W.C. 1, 1922 THE WESTMINSTER PRESS HARROW ROAD LONDON W [pv] Contents * INTRODUCTION 1. I The Book ..... ix 2. II The Translator ..... ix 3. III The Author ..... xi 4. IV The Tale ..... xiii 5. V Woman's Voice in Polygamy ..... xxxiii 6. VI Heaven on Earth ..... xxxvii 7. VII The Present Translation ..... xxxix * THE NOVEL 1. I The Transmigration of Song-jin ..... 3 2. II A Glimpse of Chin See ..... 21 3. III The Meeting with Kay See ..... 39 4. IV In the Guise of a Priestess ..... 54 5. V Among the Fairies ..... 73 6. VI It is Cloudlet ..... 95 7. VII The Imperial Son-in-law ..... 122 8. VIII A Hopeless Dilemma ..... 137 9. IX Among Mermaids and Mermen ..... 155 10. X Humble Submission ..... 165 11. XI The Capture of Cheung See ..... 183 12. XII Yang's Supreme Regret ..... 197 13. XIII The Awakening ..... 216 14. XIV In the Fairy Lists ..... 245 15. XV The Wine Punishment ..... 267 16. XVI The Answer: Back to the Buddha ..... 290 * APPENDIX .... 301 [pvii] List of Illustrations * The Fairies on the Bridge ..... Frontispiece * [Title page recto image] * [Title page verso image] * The Chun-jin Pavilion ..... 40 * In the Guise of a Priestess ..... 64 * The Poem by the Way: Among the Fairies ..... 88 * Cloudlet's Meeting with Wildgoose ..... 98 * The Stork Dance: The Palace Maids in Waiting ..... 128 * Chin See's Fear: Cloudlet says Farewell ..... 142 * The Dragon King Defeated: Among the Mermaids ..... 158 * Visit to the Monastery: Pictures to Sell ..... 176 * The Princess Visits Cheung See: Cheung See's Return Visit ..... 190 * Two in One Palanquin: The Poetry Contest .... 196 * The Cloudy Dream Land: Cloudlet's Sorrow .... 214 * The Wedding: Wildgoose and Moonlight .... 220 * In the Fairy Lists: Swallow and White-cap Enter .... 262 * The Wine Punishment: Green Mountain Castle .... 274 * Yang looks away from the World: Back to Religion .... 296 [IMG: The Fairies on the Bridge] [pix] Introduction I.--THE BOOK THE reader must lay aside all Western notions of morality if he would thoroughly enjoy this book. The scene of the amazing "Cloud Dream of the Nine," the most moving romance of polygamy ever written, is laid about 849 A.D. in the period of the great Chinese dynasty of the Tangs. By its simple directness this hitherto unknown Korean classic makes an ineffaceable impression. But the story of the devotion of Master Yang to eight women and of their devotion to him and to each other is more than a naive tale of the relations of men and women under a social code so far removed from our own as to be almost incredible. It is a record of emotions, aspirations and ideas which enables us to look into the innermost chambers of the Chinese soul. "The Cloud Dream of the Nine" is a revelation of what the Oriental thinks and feels not only about things of the earth but about the hidden things of the Universe. It helps us towards a comprehensible knowledge of the Far East. II.--THE TRANSLATOR But first a word on the medium through which this extraordinary book reaches us. Travellers, artists, students, archæologists and history writers, journalists and literary folk, officials and diplomatic dignitaries who wend their way to [px] China by way of Seoul, carry in their wallets letters of introduction to Dr. James Gale.* For more than thirty years Dr. Gale has been clearing and hewing in a virgin forest, the literature of Korea. He is the foremost literary interpreter to the West of the Korean mind. This is how he regards that mind--the words are taken from an address to a group of Japanese officials who sought Gale's counsel on a memorable occasion: "The Korean lives apart in a world of wonder, something quite unlike our modern civilisation, in a beautiful world of the mind. I have studied for thirty years to enter sympathetically into this world of the Korean mind and I am still an outsider. Yet the more I penetrate this ancient Korean civilisation the more I respect it." No man knows more of Korea or more deeply loves her people, and is loved by them, than Dr. Gale. Japanese officials have also a sincere regard for Dr. Gale. They have been accustomed to carry to him their perplexity over Korean problems, just as the Korean has come to Gale in his troubles with the Japanese. It is because of a combination of social qualities with scholarship that Dr. Gale has been able so convincingly to translate Far Eastern romance and character study. * The Rev. James Scarth Gale, son of John Gale, a native of Aberdeen, N.B., and Miami Bradt of Ontario. Born 1863. Published "Korean Grammatical Forms," 1892; "The Vanguard: a Tale of Korea," 1894; "Korean-English Dictionary," 1897; "Korean Sketches," 1898; " Korean Folk Tales," 1913. For ten years was one of the translators of the Bible into Korean. Married, first, the widow of Dr. Heron, Physician to the Emperor of Korea; second, Ada Sale of Yokohama. Presbyterian missionary since leaving the Toronto University. [pxi] All the literary interpretative work that Gale has done before the present book--from the fascinating diary of a Korean general of a thousand years ago, who wrote his impressions as he travelled through Manchuria to pay his devoirs at the great court of China, to that literary gem preserved in Gale's translation of the brief Petition of two aged Korean Viscounts, who pleaded in terms of archaic simplicity with the Japanese Governor-General Hasegawa to listen to the plaint of their people for freedom--is so sincere, lucid, and impersonal, that the reader knows that he is being given reality and not an adaptation. Dr. Gale is the unhurried man who has time for every public behest. Much of the hard literary work of his full day is done in the hours of morning calm before the world has breakfasted. The chief native helper of this quiet-eyed missionary in the work of translation has been with him for thirty years. The unsought, almost unconscious influence of a man like Gale justifies the hopes of the most old-fashioned believers in Christian missions and lends romance to work that too often seems to lead nowhere. Here is the real ambassador in a foreign land: that rare thing the idealist and scholar who has an understanding of the small things of life; the judicially-minded man who makes such deep demands on principle that he draws all men to him. III.--THE AUTHOR Writing somewhere of the Korean love of literature, Dr. Gale says: "Literature has been everything in Korea. The literati were the only men privileged to ride the dragon up into the highest heaven. [pxii] The scholar might not only look at the King, he could talk with him. Could you but read, intone or expound the classics, you might materially be dropping to tatters but still the world would wait on you and listen regardfully to show you honour. Many an unkempt son of the literati has the writer looked on with surprise to see him receive the respectful and profound salutations of the better laundered classes. Korea is not commercial, not military, not industrial, but she is a devotee of letters. She exalts books." I hear some traveller say: "What! Do you mean to suggest that those funny chaps I saw in the streets of Seoul wearing baggy white trousers and queer little Welsh hats, who sat around in lazy groups smoking long pipes and looking into nowhere, have a literature? I always understood that the Japanese had an awful time cleaning up their country and getting them to bury their dead. I've always heard that if it weren't for Japanese money and hustle the Koreans would be nothing but walking hosts of smallpox and plague germs." And the traveller would be wrong. "The Cloud Dream of the Nine" lures the reader into mysterious vales and vistas of remotest Asia and opens to him some of the sealed gateways of the East. The seventeenth-century author, Kim Man-Choong, mourned all his life that he should have been born after his father had died. So remarkable was his filial piety that his fame as a son spread far and wide. In his devotion to his mother, Yoon See, he never left her side except on Court duty. He would entertain [pxiii] her as did those of ancient days who "played with birds before their parents, or dressed and acted like little children." In his efforts to entertain his mother Kim Man-Choong would read to her interesting stories, novels and old histories. He would read far into the night to give her pleasure, and his reward was to hear her laugh of joyful appreciation. But there came a day when Kim Man-Choong was sent into exile. His mother's words were: "All the great ones of the earth, sooner or later, have gone thus to distant outlying sea coasts or to the hills. Have a care for your health and do not grieve on my account." But those who heard these brave words wept on the mother's behalf. Kim Man-Choong wrote "The Cloud Dream of the Nine" while he was an exile, and his aim in writing it was to cheer and comfort his mother. The thought underlying the story is that earth's best attainments are fleeting vanity and that without religion nothing avails. The book became a favourite among the virtuous women of the day and for long afterwards. Kim Man-Choong matriculated in 1665 and was made later a famous Doctor of Literature and President of the Confucian College. He was exiled in 1689. On his death the State erected a Gate of Honour calling attention to his filial piety and marking his title, Moon-hyo Kong, Prince Moon-hyo. So says "Korea's Famous Men," Vol. III, page 205. IV.--THE TALE Far off in the glorious mountains of Eastern Asia, whose peaks "block the clouds in their course and [pxiv] startle the world with the wonder of their formation," there is an innermost group that is "charged with divine influences." Since the days of the Chinese Deluge (B.C. 2205-2197) holy men and women and genii have been wont to dwell in these mountain fastnesses, and no pen can ever record all the strange and wonderful things that have happened there. Here in the days of the Tang dynasty a priest from India who was a "Master of the Six Temptations" was so moved by the marvellous beauty of the hills that he built a monastery on Lotus Peak and there preached the doctrines of the Buddha. Among his 600 disciples the youngest, Song-jin, barely twenty, who was without guile and most beautiful in face and form, had greater wisdom and goodness than all the other followers, so that the Master chose him to be his successor when he should "take his departure to the West." But temptation befel Song-jin. He was sent by the Master with a greeting to the Dragon King, who feasted him and deceived him with wine. Although Song-jin refused many times, saying, "Wine is a drink that upsets and maddens the soul and is therefore strictly forbidden by the Buddha," he finally drank three glasses and a "dizzy indistinctness possessed him." On his way back to the monastery he sat by the bank of a stream to bathe his hot face in the limpid water and reprimand himself for his sinfulness. He thought also of the chiding he would receive from the Master. But a strange and novel fragrance was wafted towards him. It was "neither the perfume of orchid nor of musk," but of "something wholly new and [pxv] not experienced before." It seemed to "dissipate the soul of passion and uncleanliness." Song-jin decided to follow the course of the stream until he should find the wonderful flowers. He found, instead of flowers, eight fairy maidens seated on a stone bridge. These maidens were messengers sent by a Queen of the genii who had become a Taoist by divine command and had settled on one of the mountain peaks with a company of angelic boys and fairy girls. While Song-jin was at the palace of the Dragon King, these eight fairy girls were calling on the Master of the monastery with greetings and offerings from their heavenly Queen. They had rested on the bridge to admire the scenery and had dallied there fascinated by their own reflections in the stream below. Song-jin greeted them ceremoniously and told them that he was a humble priest returning to his home in the monastery. "This stone bridge is very narrow," he said, "and you goddesses being seated upon it block the way. Will you not kindly take your lotus footsteps hence and let me pass?" The fairies bowed in return and teased the young man. They quoted the Book of Ceremony to the effect that "man goes to the left and woman to the right," but they refused to budge and recommended that Song-jin cross by some other way. They laughingly challenged him: if he were a disciple of the Teacher Yook-kwan he could follow the example of the great Talma who "crossed the ocean on a leaf." At this Song-jin also laughed, and answered their challenge by throwing before them a peach blossom that he carried in his hand. The blossom immediately became four [pxvi] couplets of red flowers and these again were transformed into eight jewels. The fairies each picked up a jewel, then they looked towards Song-jin, laughed delightedly and "mounted on the winds and sailed through the air." There followed a period of darkness and misery for Song-jin. He tried to justify himself to the Master for his long tarrying, but though he tried to rein in his thoughts when he retired to his cell the lure of earth was strong. "If one study diligently the Confucian classics," said the tempter to him, "one may become a General or a Minister of State, one may dress in silk and bow before the King and dispense favours among the people. One can look on beautiful things with the eyes and hear delightful sounds with the ears, whereas we Buddhists have only our little dish of rice and spare flask of water, many dry books to learn and our beads to say over till we are old and grey. The vacant longings that are never satisfied are too deep to express. When once the spirit and soul dissipate into smoke and nothingness, who will ever know that a person called Song-jin lived upon this earth?" The young priest was tormented by visions of the eight fairy maidens, his ears ringing with sweet voices until he became like one "half insane or intoxicated." He burnt incense, knelt, called in all his thoughts, counted his beads, and recalled to his consciousness the thousand Buddhas who could help him. But in the middle of the night the Master called him and, refusing all excuse, condemned him to Hell. The young Song-jin pleaded with tears and many eloquent words, saying: "I came to you when only [pxvii] twelve. Our love is as between an only son and a father. My hopes are all here. Where shall I go?" To Song-jin's appeal for mercy the Master said: "While your mind remains unpurified, even though you are here in the mountains, you cannot attain to the Truth. But if you never forget it and hold fast, you may mix with the dust and impurities of the way and your return is sure. If you ever desire to come back here I will go to bring you. You desire to go; that is what makes me send you off. You ask, 'Where shall I go?' I answer, 'To the place where you desire to go.'" Song-jin descended into Hell, and the King of that region was so surprised and perplexed by his coming that he sent to the Buddhist God of the Earth for advice about punishing him. At the same time the eight fairy maidens arrived in Hell, and the King after hearing their story commanded nine of his messengers, "in a low voice," to "take these nine and get them back as soon as possible to the world of the living." So a great wind arose, tossed and carried the nine through space, and after whirling them to the four ends of the earth, finally landed them on solid ground. They were all born into different families, and as human beings knew nothing of their former existence nor guessed that their present experience was an expiation. Song-jin was born again as the only child of a hermit and his wife. They loved him greatly, for they saw that he was a heavenly visitor. The father, who was originally of another world, when he recognised his son to be a "Superior Man," said good-bye to [pxviii] his wife whom he had faithfully loved, content now to leave her in the care of their son, and he returned to his friends the genii on a famous mountain. There follows the story of Song-jin's earthly life and his eight-fold love story. Each fairy maiden having an affinity with Song-jin was destined to serve him as wife or mistress. Song-jin bore the name of his hermit father, Yang, and the name given him at birth. Master Yang, as we shall now know him, was a child of such beauty and a youth of such wisdom that the governor of his county called him the "Marvellous Lad" and offered to recommend him to the Court. His physical strength, learning and ability in the Classics and composition, his marvellous knowledge of astronomy and geomancy, his military prowess--he was a wonder of skill in tossing the spear and fencing with the short sword--were only equalled by his filial piety. He "deftly solved the mysteries of life as one would split the bamboo." While still in his teens Yang expressed his desire to go forth to compete at the Government Examination so that he should "for ever establish the reputation and honour" of his family. His faithful mother stifled her fears for the long journey, for she saw that his "spirit was awake and anxious." By selling her few treasures she was able to supply means for his travels. Master Yang set out on his adventure accompanied by a little serving-lad and a limping donkey. As he had a long and leisured way before him he was able to linger over the beauties of the scenery through which he passed. [pxix] The story unfolds with fascinating perplexity the love drama of nine. The maidens are all peerless in beauty, virtue, talent, goodness and charm. So generous is the flame of Master Yang's affection that he enshrines each love with apparently equal and unabated warmth. Of the eight maidens, seven openly declared their choice of Yang as their master and one was sought deliberately by him. No shade of jealousy mars the perfect affinity of the nine. Yang easily won the highest place in the Government Competitive Examination and became a master of literary rank. This raised him from obscurity to fame and from poverty to wealth. "His name shook the city. All the nobility and peers who had marriageable daughters strove together in their applications through go-betweens." But Yang had already decided to offer marriage to the only daughter of a certain Justice Cheung. Disguised as a Taoist priestess, he had gained entry into the inner court of the Cheung household some days before the examination. In the presence of the ladies of the family he had played on his harp and had sung with a voice of unearthly sweetness certain songs that had been taught to him by genii. The young lady sat attentively listening while she identified in turn each song, "Feathery Robes," "The Garden of Green Gems and Trees," "The Distant Barbarian " and others. She defined one as "the supreme expression of all music," the thought of which ran, she said, "He travelled through all the nine provinces and found no place in which to rest his heart." The young lady so amazed Yang by her accuracy and skill in divining and revealing the nature [pxx] and history of the rare music that finally, "kneeling, he cast more incense on the fire and played the famous 'Nam-hoon Palace of King Soon.'" On which she quoted, "The south wind is warm and sweet and bears away on its wings the sorrows of the world." "This is lovely," the young lady said, "and fills one's heart to overflowing. Even though you know others I have no desire to hear them." She would have left the apartment, but the disguised Yang humbly begged permission to play and sing one other. He straightened the bridge of his harp and "the music seemed far distant at first, awakening a sense of delight and calling the soul to a fast and lively way. The flowers of the court opened out at the sound of it; the swallows in pairs swung through their delightful dancings; the orioles sang in chorus to each other. The young mistress dropped her head, closed her eyes and sat silent for a moment till the part was reached which tells how the phoenix came back to his native land gliding across the wide expanse of sea looking for his mate. She looked at the pretended priestess, the red blushes mounted to her cheeks and drove even the pale colour from her brow. She quietly arose and went into her own apartment." Neither her mother nor any of the attendants understood why the young mistress had retired, nor could they persuade her to return. But in the privacy of her chamber, Jewel, for that was the name of the young lady, spoke to her adopted sister, Cloudlet. "Cloudlet, my dear, you know I have been careful of my behaviour as the Book of Rites requires, guarding my thoughts as pearls and jewels, and that my [pxxi] feet have never ventured outside the middle gates. . . . I, an unmarried girl of the inner quarters, have sat for two full hours face to face with a strange man unblushingly talking to him. When I heard the song of the phoenix seeking her mate I looked closely into the priestess's face. Assuredly it was not a girl's face at all. Did anyone ever hear such a thing in the world before? I cannot tell this even to my mother." Cloudlet pleaded for the young man whose beauty and powers were so unusual. But Jewel was not to be moved, and when later Master Yang formally called on Justice Cheung and proposed marriage and the Justice was honoured by his proposal and delighted to accept it, Jewel's scruples were hard to overcome. She felt that the young man must be punished, and to "save her face" determined to carry out a scheme of revenge on her affianced. Her plan needed the help of her beloved adopted sister Cloudlet, who, as we have seen, had conceived a partiality for the bold lover Yang. According to custom Yang was invited to stay at a guest house in the grounds of the Cheung residence, and was treated as a loved son by the Justice and his lady. The lady Cheung herself supervised his food and clothing. Jewel proposed to her mother that Cloudlet, who was skilful as well as beautiful, should be appointed to oversee Master Yang's comfort so as to save her mother. The mother protested. "Your father desires," said the lady Cheung, "that a special husband should be chosen for Cloudlet that she may have a home of her own. When you are married Cloudlet could not go with you as a servant; her station and attainments are superior to that. The only way open to you in accord [pxxii] with ancient rites would be to have her attend as the Master's secondary wife." Jewel's answer to her mother was: "Master Yang is now eighteen. He is a scholar of daring spirit who even ventured into the inner quarters of a Minister's home and made sport with his unmarried daughter. How can you expect such a man to be satisfied with only one wife? Later when he becomes a Minister of State and gets ten thousand rice bags as salary, how many Cloudlets will he not have to bear him company?" But Jewel's mother was not satisfied, and when the Justice was appealed to, she said " To appoint a secondary wife before the first marriage is something I am quite opposed to." The mother was overborne, however, and the Justice entered with amusement into his beloved daughter's plan of revenge. Jewel then put the matter to her beloved Cloudlet thus: "Cloudlet, I have been with you ever since the hair grew on our brows together. We have loved each other since the days we fought with flower buds. Now that I have my wedding gifts sent me, I wonder who you have thought of for a husband." Cloudlet answered: "I have specially loved you, dear mistress. If I could but hold your dressing mirror for ever I should be satisfied." Jewel continued: "You know that Master Yang made a ninny of me when he played the harp in the inner compound. Only by you, Cloudlet, can I ever hope to wipe out the disgrace. We have a summer pavilion in a secluded part of South Mountain. We could prepare a marriage chamber there. The views are beautiful, like a world of the fairies. I am only desirous that you, Cloudlet, will not mind taking your part in it." [pxxiii] Cloudlet laughed and said: "Though I die I will go through with it and do just as you say." Master Yang was lured to South Mountain with the help of a male cousin and left in a lonely but beautiful place. Here Cloudlet appeared in the guise of a fairy and enticed him into the pavilion. So skilful was Cloudlet's wooing that Yang "loved her from the depths of his heart and his love was reciprocated." A most intricate practical joke was played on Yang for many weeks. Cloudlet pretended to vanish and reappear as a disembodied spirit, and the love-making was then continued in the house given to Yang in the Cheung compound. Then Cloudlet disappeared again, and Yang's "sleep failed him and his desire for food fell away." The whole household was in the secret, and the Justice, who was watching the affair with amusement, obtained Yang's confidence and hinted that it was a mistake to let a disembodied spirit make love to him. "Even though you say she is a disembodied spirit," said the distressed young man, "this girl is firm and substantial in form and by no means a piece of nothingness." When the Justice felt that the joke had gone far enough he revealed the deception to Yang. The male cousin "rolled in fits of merriment" and "the servants were convulsed with laughter." The old people quietly enjoyed what the Justice said was "a laughable enough joke in its way." Cloudlet gained the desirable position of secondary wife before the consummation of the first marriage and proved her loyalty and love for Mistress Jewel, while Yang had the joy of Cloudlet's constant care and attention. [pxxiv] But before the consummation of Yang's marriage with Jewel many stirring events were to happen. He was sent to far regions to quell rebellions against the State and, after many victories, rose to the highest military command in the land. Meanwhile, the other six love affairs were unfolded. Two of these had been started on his first journey from his native village before passing the Government Examination. The first was the meeting with the maiden, Chin See. "At a certain place he saw a beautiful grove of willow trees. A blue line of smoke, like silken rolls unwinding, rose skyward. In a retired part of the enclosure he saw a picturesque pavilion with a perfectly kept approach. He slowed up his beast and went near to enjoy the prospect. He sighed and said: In our world of Chok there are many pretty groves, but none that I ever saw so lovely as this. He rapidly composed a poem which ran: Willows hung with woven green Veiling all the view between; Planted by some fairy free, Sheltering her and calling me. Willows, greenest of the green, Brushing by her silken screen, Speak by every waving wand, Of an unseen fairy hand. "He sang it out with a rich clear voice. It was heard in the top storey of the pavilion, where a beautiful maiden was having a siesta. She opened the embroidered shade and looked out through the painted railing. Her hair, like a tumbled cloud, rested soft and warm [pxxv] upon her temples. The long jade pin that held the plaits together had been pushed aside till it showed slantwise through her tresses. Her sleepy eyelids were as if she had just emerged from dreamland. Rouge and cosmetics had vanished under the unceremonious hand of sleep and her natural beauty was unveiled, a beauty such as no painter has ever portrayed. The two looked at each other with a fixed and startled expression but said not a word. The maiden suddenly recollected herself, closed the blind and disappeared from view. A suggestion of sweet fragrance was borne to Yang on the breeze." The maiden, Chin See, said to her old nurse: "A woman's lot in life is to follow her husband. Her glory or her shame, her experiences for the span of life are wrapped up in her lord and master. I am an unmarried girl and dislike dreadfully to become my own go-between and propose marriage, but it is said that in ancient times courtiers chose their own king, so I shall make inquiry concerning this gentleman. I cannot wait for my father's return, for who knows whither he has gone or where I shall look for him in the four quarters of the earth?" She then unclasped a roll of satin paper and wrote a verse or two which she gave to her nurse, telling her to find "a gentleman handsome as the gods, with eyebrows like the loftiest touches of a picture, and his form among common men like the phoenix among feathered fowls." The practical old nurse replied, "What shall I do if the gentleman is already married or engaged?" The maiden thought for a moment and then said, "If that unfortunately be so, I shall not object to become his secondary wife." Her message was: [pxxvi] "Willows waving by the way, Bade my lord his course to stay, He, alas, has failed to ken, Draws his whip and rides again." Yang's response was prompt and unmistakably reassuring: "Willow catkins soft and dear, Bid thy soul to have no fears Ever may they bind us true, You to me, and me to you." But Yang's love affair with Chin See of the willow grove came nearer tragedy than any of the eight experiences. Many vicissitudes prevented their speedy union. Meanwhile the love dramas in which two peerless dancing girls, Moonlight and Wildgoose, played their part saved Master Yang from grieving too much over the temporary loss of Chin See. Moonlight was the next love. She it was who foretold Yang's future greatness and his certain victory at the Competitive Examination. Moonlight chose Yang from among a group of youths who were competing for her favour. When Yang, at Moonlight's invitation, was entertained by her privately, she made her feelings known to him with entire frankness. "I am yours from to-day," she said, "and shall tell you my whole heart." She told the story of the death of her father and the sale of herself by her stepmother for one hundred yang. "I stifled my resentful soul and did my best to be faithful," said Moonlight, "praying to God, who has had pity on me. To-day I have met my lord and look again on the light of sun [pxxvii] and moon. I have had opportunity to study thousands of passers by, yet never has one passed who is equal to my master. Unworthy as I am I would gladly become your serving-maid." Yang was as yet without experience and Moonlight became his wise counsellor, giving him hope for the future and confidence in his powers. As he was too poor to marry her, they agreed that he would always come to visit her when he passed that way. Moonlight's prophecy was speedily fulfilled, and when Yang next visited her he had become a famous general and was on the road with "all the insignia of power--flags, drums and battle axes." Their meeting was full of joy. "Yang, with pent-up heart longings and desire to see her face to face, caught her lovely expression, which took fresh grip of him. . . . Moonlight saw him dismount and bowed low. She accompanied him into the guest room, where in her joy of soul she took hold of the border of his robes. Her tears flowed faster than her words. She congratulated Yang on his engagement to the daughter of Justice Cheung, and told him how she had had at one time to cut off her hair to escape dishonour so that she might remain true to him. "They renewed their former happy acquaintance and he tarried for several days." Then follows an account of Moonlight's ruse to let Wildgoose become acquainted with Master Yang without his knowledge: "That night he talked over the past with Moonlight and said how they had indeed been destined for each other. They drank and were happy till the hours grew late. Then they put out the lights and slept. When the east began to lighten [pxxviii] he awoke and saw Moonlight dressing her hair before the mirror. He looked at her with tenderest interest and then gave a start and looked again. The delicate eyebrows, the bright eyes, the wavy hair like a cloud over the temples, the rosy-tinted cheeks, the lithe graceful form, the white complexion--all were Moonlight's, and yet it was not she." Wildgoose made an eloquent plea for her presence. "How could I ever have ventured to do such a thing," she said, "were it not that I have had born in me one great indomitable longing that has possessed me all my life--to attach myself to some renowned hero or superior lord. When the King of Yon learned my name and bought me for a heaped-up bag of jewels, he fed me on the daintiest fare and dressed me in rarest silk. Yet I had no delight in it but was in distress. When the King of Yon invited you to a feast I spied on you through the screen chinks and you were the one man that my heart bounded forth to follow. The palace has nine gateways of approach, but when you had been gone ten days I secretly took one of the King's fast horses and sped forth on my way. What I did last night was at the request of Moonlight. If you will permit me to find shelter under your wide-spreading tree, where I may build my little nest, Moonlight and I will live together, and after the Master is married to some noble lady, she and I will come and speak our good wishes and congratulations." Yang replied with generous words, and Moonlight also appeared and said: "Now that Wildgoose has waited on my lord as well as I, I thank thee on her behalf." And they bowed repeatedly. [pxxix] The most startling of Yang's love stories is his meeting with Swallow. It happened during a military campaign. The General was seated in his tent with a lighted candle before him reading despatches during the third watch of the night. Suddenly a cold wind extinguished the light of the candle, an eerie chill filled the tent, and a maiden stepped in upon him from the upper air holding a glittering double-edged sword in her hand. The General, "guessing her to be an assassin," did not quail but stood his ground sternly and asked who she was. "I am under the command of the King of Tibet," she said, "to have thy head." The General laughed. "The Superior Man," he replied, " never fears to die. Take my head, if you please, and go." At this the maiden disclosed her real intent. She had entered the camp at the bidding of the King of Tibet for the ostensible purpose of carrying back to that monarch the head of the great General, but her real object was to reveal her love for Yang and to save his life and help him to victory. "Her face was bright like rose petals with dew on them. She wore phoenix-tail shoes, and her tones were like the oriole." The Teacher who had helped her to become a "master of the sword drill" and had taught her how to "ride the winds, follow the lightnings, and in an instant travel 3,000 li," had also revealed to Swallow that Yang was her destined master and her true affinity. Yang was naturally as delighted as he had been surprised, so "they plighted their troth, the glitter of swords and spears serving for candle light" and the "sound of cymbals for the festal harp." After many days of pleasure Swallow said to Yang, "A [pxxx] military camp is no place for women; I fear that I shall hinder the movements of the troops,so I must go." In vain Yang tried to persuade her that she was not as other women. The Swallow gave him a parting talisman and some sound advice and then "sprang into the air and was gone." As astounding also was General Yang's love affair with White-cap, the daughter of the Dragon King. This lady helped Yang in his military career by means of magic. Her love-making took place in a grotto under a mountain lake, where she was in hiding in the form of a mermaid. "I am Pak Neung-pa," said White-cap, giving her full name. "When I was born my father was having an audience with God Almighty." She then explained how she had been dowered from birth with superhuman abilities and had incurred the hatred of a neighbouring King because she refused to listen to the wooing of his undesirable son. She had sought Yang because her affinity with him had been divinely disclosed. White-cap went on: "I have already made promise to you of this humble body, but there are three reasons why I ought not to be mated to your Excellency. First, I have not told my parents; second, I can accompany you only after changing this mermaid form of mine. I still have scales and fishy odours with fins that would defile my lord's presence. Third, there are spies of my unwelcome royal suitor all around us. Our meeting will arouse their anger and cause disaster." The General waived all the objections. "Your ladyship was a fairy in a former life," he said, "and you therefore have a spiritual nature. Between men and disembodied spirits intercourse may be carried on [pxxxi] without wrong, then why should I have aversion to scales and fins? Why should we miss this opportunity to seal our happy contract?" So they "swore the oath of marriage and found great delight in each other." After this encounter Yang's military victories were more glorious than ever and he returned home the greatest man of the age. On Yang's return to the capital the highest honour had been prepared for him that can fall to the lot of an Imperial subject. A marriage had been arranged between him and the lovely Princess of the Imperial family, Princess Orchid, and he became a Prince in rank. How this marriage was arranged, and Yang's marriage with Justice Cheung's daughter, Jewel, who was raised to Imperial rank by adoption, was consummated, and how the reunion took place with Cloudlet and Chin See, the reader is told with many thrilling and humorous details. Yang's aged mother was brought with great ceremony to the capital. Honours and gifts were showered upon her. The two Princesses bowed before her as dutiful daughters-in-law, and the six secondary wives also delighted in giving her honour. Yang's princely household was so great that palaces, halls, galleries and pagodas were requisitioned. His life with his eight wives, their children and his aged mother, was a revelation of earthly bliss and wondrous grandeur. The Emperor's reign was also a notable time of peace and prosperity. Even in old age Yang and his ladies had beauty and the power of enjoyment. But a day came when the Master heard "faint voices calling from another world." "Slowly his spirit withdraws from earthly delights." [pxxxii] One day, while sitting in a high tower from which there was a view of Chin River stretching in silvery reaches for a hundred miles, he drew forth his green stone flute and played for his ladies a "plaintive air as though heaped-up sorrows and tears had broken forth upon them." The two Princesses asked why he should suggest such sorrow in the midst of their exceeding happiness with "golden flowers dropping petals" at his feet, and "our loving hearts around you?" The Master pointed to distant ruins of palaces that had held famous men and their women folk. He spoke of his boyhood as a poor scholar and the wonderful triumphs of his career and their nine rare affinities. "Children who gather wood or feed their cattle on the hillside," he said, "will sing their songs and tell our mournful story, saying, 'This is where Master Yang made merry with his wives and family. All his honours and delights, all the pretty faces of his ladies are gone for ever.'" Hearing the Master's words the ladies were moved and knew that he "was about to meet the Enlightened One." Then there appeared an old man leaning upon a staff. His "eyebrows were an ell long and his eyes were like the blue waves of the sea." He was the aged priest of Lotus Peak who had come to summon Yang. He conversed with Yang, who did not at first recognise him--and in a little while Yang woke to find himself in a small cell in a monastery on a mountain side. He looked at himself and at his dress. He was again Song-jin the acolyte. His earthly power and his eight wives had vanished as a dream that is gone. The Teacher came to him and said: "You have soared on the wings of worldly delight and have [pxxxiii] seen and known for yourself. You say that you have dreamed a dream of mortal life upon the wheel and now you think the world and the dream itself to be different. But this is not so. If you think it so, this shows that you are not awakened from your sleep." Song-jin replied: "I am a darkened soul and so cannot distinguish which is the dream and which is the actual reality. Please open to me the truth." Before the Teacher had time to explain, the eight fairies of the Queen of the genii appeared at the monastery gate. They said to the Teacher: "Our earthly desires have gone forth after sin and evil in the dream of mortal life, and there is none to save us but the Great Teacher who in love and mercy himself came to call us." The Great Teacher appointed the eight fairies their places in the Hall of the Buddha. Then he took "his cassock, his alms-dish, water-bottle and his ornamented staff, his Diamond Sutra, gave them to Song-jin, bade them all farewell and took his departure to the West." Song-jin became chief of the disciples on that height and taught the Doctrine, and the eight fairies, as priestesses, served him as their master and drank deeply of the Doctrine. And at last they all reached the blissful heights of Paradise. V.--WOMAN'S VOICE IN POLYGAMY Polygamy is the chief bulwark of the Chinese and Korean family system, and when its basic claim is accepted by a community its practicableness, if not its justice, is undoubted. The men of the Tang era had everything to gain by such a system. The women [pxxxiv] meekly accepted their place because they believed that they were expiating the faults of a former existence by enduring the shame of being women. But in this tale, which honours the mating of one man and eight women, we find some of the women giving voice to an inward discontent. The Princess Orchid, Jewel and Cloudlet, we read, sat "like the three feet of the incense burner," so perfectly were they matched in beauty, grace and learning. "They laughed sweetly and talked in soft and tender accents. Perfect agreement possessed them in thought and mind and soul, and they loved each other with an infinite delight. They talked of all the great masters of the past and of the renowned ladies of ages gone by till the shadows of the night began to cast their lines athwart the silken window." There is nothing more convincing in the whole story than the impression that the writer unconsciously gives of the strenuous intellectual and artistic pastimes of these women of the Tang era. Their physical charms are dwelt on poetically and fancifully but never sensuously; their accomplishments are so varied that they not only embroider and paint, study music, dancing and sword drill, and write poems so that their "pens flew like swift wind or a sudden squall of rain," but in classical allusion and metaphor they hold their own in conversation with literary men. The Princess said to Jewel: "A boy is free to go to all points of the land and sea, he can pick and choose good friends, can learn from another and can correct his faults, while a girl meets no one but the servants of her own household. How can she expect [pxxxv] to grow in goodness or to find in any such place answers to the questions of the soul? I was mourning over the fact that I was a girl shut up in prison when I heard that your knowledge was equal to that of Pang-So and your virtue and loveliness like that of the ancients. Though you do not pass outside your own gateway, yet your name is known abroad even to the Imperial Palace. You have not refused me admittance and now I have attained my heart's dearest desire." Jewel made answer: "Your kind words will live for ever in my humble heart. Locked up as I am in these inner quarters, my footsteps are hindered from freedom and my sight and hearing are limited to this small enclosure. I have never seen the waters of the wide sea nor the long stretches of the hills. So limited in experience and knowledge am I that your praise of me is too great altogether." And Jewel's real inner heart is expressed in her prayer to Buddha when she believed that she would have to give up Yang, who was under royal command to wed the Imperial Princess. She prayed: "Thy disciple, Kyong-pai, by means of her servant, Cloudlet, who has bathed and made the required offerings, bows low, worships and makes her petition. "Thy disciple has many sins to answer for, sins of a former existence as yet unexpiated. These account for her birth into this life as a desolate girl who never knew the joy of sisterhood. Condescend, ye Holy Ones, to accept this prayer of mine, extend to me pity and let my parents live long like the [pxxxvi] endless measure of the sky. Grant that I be free from sickness and trouble so that I may be able to dress neatly and to please them, and thus play out my little part in life on their behalf. When their appointed span is over I will break with all the bonds of earth, submit my actions to the requirements of the law and give my heart to the reading of the sacred sutras, keep myself pure, worship the Holy One and make payment for all the unmerited blessings that have come to me. "My servant, Cloudlet, who is my chosen companion, brings this to thee. Though in name we two are maid and mistress we are in reality friend and friend. She in obedience to my orders became the secondary wife of General Yang, but now that matters have fallen otherwise and there is no longer hope for the happy affinity that was ours, she too has bade a long farewell to him and has come back to me so that we may be one in sorrow as well as in blessing, in death as well as in life. I earnestly pray that the divine Buddha will condescend to read our two hearts and grant that for all generations and transmigrations to come we may escape the lot of being born women, that thou wilt put away all our sins of a former existence, give blessing for the future so that we may transmigrate to some happy place to share endless bliss for ever." Cloudlet's good-bye to Master Yang proves that Jewel's belief in her devotion and loyalty was well founded. Yang had tried to persuade Cloudlet that she might remain with him. He said: "Your devotion to your mistress is most commendable. Still your lady's person and yours are different. While she goes north, south, east or west as she chooses, your following her and at the same time attempting to render service to another, would break all the laws that govern a woman's existence." Cloudlet replied: "Your words prove that you do not know the mind of my mistress. She has already decided to remain with her aged parents. When they die she will preserve her purity, cut off her hair, enter a monastery and give herself up in prayer to the Buddha, in the hope that in the life to come she may not be born a woman. I, too, will do just the same as she. If your lordship intends to see me again your marriage gifts must go back to the rooms of my lady. If not, then to-day marks our parting for life. Since I have waited on your lordship I have been greatly loved and favoured and I can never repay even in a hundred years a thousandth part of all your kindness. My one wish is that in the life to come I may be your faithful dog or horse. . . ." She then blessed him and turned away weeping bitterly. VI.--HEAVEN ON EARTH Confucian, Buddhist and Taoist ideas are mingled throughout the story, but everyone speaks with confidence of Heaven as a place. While the Buddhist conception of Heaven is so pure that no earthly desire can exist there, Yang is carried in dreamland to a very different Heaven. He is being entertained by the Dragon King, who desires to do him all honour and to express gratitude for Yang's deliverance of the Dragon King's daughter from her enemy. After being [pxxxviii] borne on the wind to a spot "close to the outskirts of Heaven," they arrive at the palace, where a gorgeous feast is spread for them. "They" (the Dragon King, Yang and the Dragon King's daughter) "drank till their hearts were merry and then the King called for music. Splendid music it was, arranged in mystic harmony unlike the music of the earth. A thousand giants, each bearing sword and spear, beat monster drums. Six rows of dancing girls dressed in phoenix garb and wearing bright moon ornaments, gracefully shook their long flowing sleeves and danced in pairs, a thrilling and enchanting sight." Yang seems to have touched the height of satiety also at a festival in his earthly paradise. We read: "The Master (Yang) and the Prince were compelled by the falling shadows of the evening to break up the feast and return. They gave each performer rich presents of gold, silver and silk. Grain measures of gems were scattered about, and rolls of costly materials were piled up like hillocks. The Master and the Prince, taking advantage of the moonlight, returned home to the city amid the ringing of bells. All the dancers and musicians jostled each other along the way. The sound of gems and tinkling ornaments was like falling water, and perfume filled the atmosphere. Straying hair-pins and jewelled ornaments were crushed by the horses' hoofs and the passing of countless feet. The crowd in the city, desiring to see, stood like a wall on each side of the way. Old men of ninety and a hundred wept tears of joy, saying: 'In my younger days I saw his Majesty Hyon-jong (A.D. 713-736) out on procession [pxxxix] and his splendour alone could be compared with this.'" We smile at such an absurd conception of life. But it is to this strange ideal of a commingling of earthly paradises and fairy heavens that the world owes the exquisite perfection of so much Chinese craftsmanship. The artists of that bygone day moulded the drinking vessels, embroidered the robes, fashioned the jade flutes and made all the other lovely things worshipfully. A more sophisticated age looks almost with despair on the remnants of the loveliness they created. VII.--THE PRESENT TRANSLATION On the literary presentation of this work a word may be said. Dr. Gale is a scholar and a broad-minded and intensely sympathetic student of Oriental life. His first aim, his compelling aim, is, in his own words to the writer, "to contribute towards some more correct knowledge of the Far East." His thoughts are on a faithful interpretation of the Far Eastern mind and Far Eastern manners rather than on those felicities of word and phrase with which literary reputations are sought. We have had of late a piece of Far Eastern translation in which too much was sacrificed to literary form. Dr. Gale makes no claim whatever to literary graces. Only those whose knowledge of the Korean language, life and character approaches the learning of Dr. Gale may safely criticise his phrasings. It is clear that, in executing the immense task he set himself, his wish has been to write down the simplest possible [pxl] renderings. Some may wish that more time had been spared for niceties; no reader will fail to feel the self-suppression of the translator and the absence of linguistic or other affectations. Because there is no labouring after the literary, because the translator's heart is set first on sincerity, the artless happy word and phrase constantly occur. The way in which this version carries us through the mazes of a story on a plan so foreign to that of Western fiction is marvellous. The work must enhance, if that be possible, the reputation of Dr. Gale as an interpreter of the Korean mind and increase that sense of obligation which every man and woman who wishes to grasp something of Far Eastern thought and sentiment already feels towards this unusual man. ELSPET KEITH ROBERTSON SCOTT The Novel [p3] Chapter I The Transmigration of Song-jin THERE are five noted mountains in East Asia. The peak near the Yellow Sea is called Tai-san, Great Mountain; the peak to the west, Wha-san, Flowery Mountain; the peak to the south, Hyong-san, Mountain of the Scales; the peak to the north, Hang-san, Eternal Mountain; while the peak in the centre is called Soong-san, Exalted Mountain. The Mountain of the Scales, the loftiest of the five peaks, lies to the south of the Tong-jong River, and on the other three sides is circled by the Sang-gang, so that it stands high, uplifted as if receiving adoration from the surrounding summits. There are in all seventy-two peaks that shoot up and point their spear-tops to the sky. Some are sheer cut and precipitous and block the clouds in their course, startling the world with the wonder of their formation. Stores of good luck and fortune abide under their shadows. The highest peaks among the seventy-two are called Spirit of the South, Red Canopy, Pillars of Heaven, Rock Treasure-house and Lotus Peak, five in all. They are sky-tipped and majestic in appearance, with clouds on their faces and mists around their feet, and are charged with divine influences [1]. When the day is other than clear they are shrouded completely from human view. In ancient days, when Ha-oo restrained the deluge that came upon the earth [2], he placed a memorial stone on one of these mountain tops, on which was [p4] recorded his many wonderful deeds. The stone was divinely inscribed in cloud characters, and, while many ages have passed, these characters are clear cut as ever. In the days of Chin See-wang [3], a woman of the genii, named Queen Wee, who became a Taoist by divine command, came with a company of angelic boys and fairy girls and settled in these mountains, so that she was called Queen Wee of the Southern Peak. It is impossible to relate all the strange and wonderful things that have been associated with these mountain fastnesses. In the days of the Tang dynasty a noted priest came hither from India, and being captivated by the beauty of the hills built a monastery on Lotus Peak. There he preached the doctrines of the Buddha, taught his disciples, and put an end to fearsome demons and foul spirits, so that the name of Gautama grew great in influence, and people bowed before it and believed, saying that God had again visited the earth. The rich and honourable shared of their abundance, the poor gave their labour, and so they built a wide and spacious temple. It was deeply secluded and quiet, with a thousand and one beautiful views encircling it, and a majesty and impressiveness of mountain scenery for background that was unsurpassed. This preacher of the Buddha had brought with him a volume of the Diamond Sutra, which he expounded so clearly that they called him Master of the Six Temptations and the Great Teacher of the Yook-kwan. Among the five or six hundred disciples that followed him there were some thirty well [p5] versed in the teaching, and far advanced. One, the youngest of them, was called Song-jin, Without Guile. His face was fair and beautiful to see and the light of his expression was like running water. He was barely twenty, and yet he had mastered the three Sacred Books. In wisdom and quickness of perception he surpassed all the others, so that the Master greatly loved him and intended later to make him his successor. As the Teacher expounded the doctrine to his disciples, the Dragon King himself, from the Tong-jong Sea, used to come in the person of an old man dressed in white clothes to listen and learn. On a certain day the Teacher assembled his pupils and said to them: "I am now an old man and frail in body, and it is thirteen years and more since I have been outside the mountain gates. Who among you will go for me to the Palace of the Waters and pay my respects to the Dragon King?" At once Song-jin volunteered. The Teacher, greatly pleased at this, had him fitted out in a new cassock, gave him his ringed staff of the gods, and he set off briskly towards the world of Tong-jong. Just at this moment the priest who guarded the main entrance to the monastery came to say that the noble Lady of the Southern Peak had sent eight fairy messengers to call, and that they were now waiting before the gate. The Master gave command that they be admitted, and they tripped across the threshold in modest order, circling about three times and then bowing and scattering the blossoms of the genii. They knelt reverently and gave their message from the Lady, saying: "The noble Teacher lives [p6] on the west side of the mountain and I on the east. While the distance is not great, and we are comparatively near as neighbours, still I am of humble birth and am so busily occupied that I have never come even once to the sacred temple to hear the doctrine. I have no wisdom of my own to keep me in touch with the good, but now I am sending my serving maidens to pay my respects, and at the same time to offer to your Excellency flowers of Paradise and fairy fruits, along with some other gifts of silk, which I sincerely trust you will accept as a token of my earnest heart." Each then made her presentation of flowers and treasures to the Master. These he received and passed on to his disciples, who had them placed as offerings before the Buddha. With much bowing and folding of the hands, according to the required ceremony, he replied: "What merit has an old man like me, I pray, to have such gifts as these presented to him?" He gave liberally to the eight maidens in return and they set off lightly on their way. They passed out through the mountain gate hand in hand, talking as they went. Said they: "These divine mountains of the south, being of one range and having the same streams encircling them, once upon a time were all within our own boundaries, but since the setting up of the temple of the Great Teacher certain limitations have shut us off from freedom so that we have not seen the beautiful places that were once our own. Now by the good fortune of our Lady's commands we are here in this valley at this lovely season of the year. It is early in the day. [p7] Let us take the occasion to go up to the heights and have a breath of the sweet air of Lotus Peak, dip our kerchiefs in the limpid water, sing a verse or two and awaken our souls to the joy of life. On returning home we shall be the praise and envy of all our sisters. Let us do this." They set off, on their way looking down with wonder at the rushing water, walking skilfully along the giddy ridges and following the streams. At last, on this happy day of the third moon they found themselves on the stone bridge that spanned the torrent. All the flowers were in bloom; the streams beneath them sparkled with silvery brightness. There hung a tent-work of flowers and leaves like a silken canopy. The birds vied with each other in the beautiful notes of their singing. The soft breezes awakened glad and happy memories, while the beauty of the scene held them spellbound. Thus were the eight fairy messengers charmed as they sat in delight on the bridge looking down at the wonderful mirror of the streams that met and sparkled in a crystal pool below. Their delicate eyebrows and glowing bright faces shone forth, reflected in the water as if seen in a famous picture from a master's hand. They were so entranced that they had no thought of going till the sun began to descend toward the western hills and the day to darken. At this moment Song-jin crossed the Tong-jong River and entered the Water Palace of the Dragon King. His Majesty was greatly delighted at his coming, stepped outside the gates to meet him, took [p8] him by the hand, led him in and bid him share his throne. Song-jin made his obeisance and gave his message from the Master. The King in response bowed low and ordered a feast of welcome to be prepared, at which were fruits and dainties of the fairies in abundance, and of such flavour as the dwellers in the hills alone know. The Dragon King himself passed the glass and urged him to drink. Song-jin several times refused, saying: "Wine is a drink that upsets and maddens the soul, and is therefore strictly forbidden by the Buddha, so your humble servant must not partake." But the Dragon King replied: "I am aware that among the five things forbidden by Gautama wine is one, but the wine that I offer is different altogether from the maddening kind that men drink. It represses the passions and quiets the soul. You will not mistrust my sincerity in offering it I am sure." Song-jin, moved by this kindness, could not any longer refuse, and he drank three glasses. He then spoke his greeting and came forth from the Water Palace, riding on the wind and sailing directly for Lotus Peak. When he had landed at the base of the hill the influence of the wine was already manifest in his face and a feeling of dizziness possessed him, so that he reprimanded himself, saying: "If my honoured Master sees me with this inflamed expression how startled he will be and how soundly he will chide me." He sat down by the bank of the stream, put off his outer garments, placed them on the clean sand [p9] and dipped his hands in the limpid water. Thus he sat bathing his hot face, when suddenly a strange and mysterious fragrance was borne toward him, not the perfume of orchid or musk nor that of any special flower, but something wholly new and not experienced before. The soul of passion and uncleanness seemed dissipated by its presence, and a purity indescribable seemed to remain. He said to himself: "What wonderful flowers are these by the side of this brook that such sweet perfume should come floating on its wavelets? I will go and see from whence it comes." He dressed carefully, followed the course of the stream upwards, and found the eight fairies seated on the stone bridge so that they met suddenly face to face, he and they. [IMG: The Fairies on the Bridge] Song-jin laid aside his pilgrim's staff and made a deep, low bow, saying: "Ladies of the Fairies' Paradise, hear what a poor priest has to say. I am a disciple of the Master Yook-kwan and live on Lotus Peak. Just now I am returning from a mission beyond the mountains on which he sent me. This stone bridge is very narrow, and you goddesses being seated upon it block the way; will you not kindly take your lotus footsteps hence and let me pass?" The fairies bowed in return and said: "We attendants who wait on Queen Wee are on our return from carrying a message of goodwill to the Master of the Temple, and have stopped here for a little to rest. We have heard that it is written in the Book of Ceremony concerning the law of the road that man goes to the left and woman to the right. Now as this bridge is a very narrow one, and we are already seated [p10] here, it would seem more fitting that you should avoid it altogether, and cross by some other way." Song-jin said in reply: "But the water of the stream is deep, and there is no other way. Where do you suggest that your humble servant should go?" The fairies replied: "It is said that the great Talma [4] came across the ocean on a leaf. Now if you are a disciple of the Teacher Yook-kwan and have learned the doctrine from him, naturally you will have learned to do some such wonderful thing. There surely will be no difficulty for you to cross this narrow stream instead of standing here and disputing with us girls about the way." Song-jin laughed and said: "I see by your ladyships' behaviour that you ask that I pay some price or other for the right to cross, but I have no money, for I am only a poor priest. I have, however, eight jewels which I will present to you if you will kindly permit me to pass by." At this he threw the peach blossom that he carried in his hand before them and it became four couplets of red flowers, and these again were transformed into eight jewels that filled the place with sparkling light, shooting up to heaven. The fairies each picked up one; then they looked toward Song-jin, laughed in a delighted way, arose, mounted the winds and sailed off through the air. Song-jin stood at the head of the bridge and watched them for a long time till they were lost in the clouds and the sweet fragrance had melted away. In loneliness, as though he had failed of his highest hopes, he came back to the temple and gave his message from the Dragon King to the Master. [p11] The Master reprimanded him for his late return, and Song-jin said: "The Dragon King treated me so liberally, sir, and his urgent request to stay was so impossible to refuse, that I have been delayed beyond the time." The Master gave no direct reply, but simply said: "Go away and rest." Song-jin went back to his little hut of meditation while the evening shadows closed down upon the day. Since meeting with the eight fairies his ears had been ringing with sweet voices, and though he tried to forget their beautiful faces and graceful forms he could not succeed. However much he endeavoured to rein in his thoughts he found it impossible. His mind was as that of a person half insane or half intoxicated. He pulled himself together, however, and knelt reverently, saying: "If a man study diligently the Confucian Classics and then grow up to meet a king like Yo or Soon, he can either become a general to go abroad, or be a minister of state at home. He can dress in silk and carry a seal of office at his belt; can bow before the king; can dispense favours among the people; can look on beautiful things with the eyes and hear delightful sounds with the ears. He can have his fill of glory in this life, and can leave a reputation for generations to come; but we Buddhists have only our little dish of rice and flask of water. Many dry books are there for us to learn, and our beads to say over till we are old and grey. It may be high and praiseworthy from the point of view of religion, but the vacant longings that it never satisfies are too deep to mention. Even though one gets to understand all the laws of the Mahayana [p12] revelation, though one proclaims the same and finds oneself exalted to the place of sage and teacher, when once the spirit and soul dissipate into smoke and nothingness, who will ever know that a person called Song-jin once lived upon this earth?" So his thoughts wandered. He tried to sleep but sleep refused to come. The hours grew late. Sometimes he closed his eyes for a little, but the eight fairies persistently appeared before him in a row and drove sleep far away. Then he suddenly realised that the great purpose of Buddhism was to correct the thoughts and the heart. "I have been a Buddhist for ten years," said he, "and I had well-nigh succeeded in getting done with the world till this deceitful mind of mine got itself tangled up to the damage of my soul." He burned incense, knelt, called in all his thoughts, counted his beads, recalled to his consciousness the thousand Buddhas that could help him, when suddenly one of the temple boys came to his window and spoke, saying: "Elder brother, are you asleep? The Master is calling you." Song-jin, in alarm, said to himself: "His calling me in this unusual way in the middle of the night can only mean something serious." He went along with the boy to the Audience Hall of the Buddha, where the chief had assembled all the priests of the temple and was sitting in solemn silence. His appearance was one to inspire fear and question. The light of the candles shone brilliantly. He spoke with great care, but with severe intonation. "Song-jin, do you know how you have sinned?" Song-jin, who was bowed low, kneeling before the [p13] dais, replied: "I have now been a disciple of the Master for ten years and more, and have never disobeyed any command or any order concerning acts of worship in which I have had a part. I am dark and ignorant I know, and so am not aware of how I have offended." The Master said: "There are three things that must be exercised in the ordering of one's acts, namely, the body, the mind, and the soul. You went to the Dragon King and drank wine, did you not? Again, on your way back by the stone bridge you had a long and frivolous conversation with the messengers of Queen Wee. You gave them each a flower and made jokes and light talk. Since coming back, too, you have not put these recollections from your mind and heart, but instead have allowed yourself to be entangled with worldly delights; you have been thinking of riches and honour with all the other temptations of the earth, and have turned with loathing from the doctrine of the Buddha. Thus your three degrees of attainment have all fallen from you in a single hour. You can remain here no longer." Song-jin, overcome to tears, prayed for forgiveness. He said: "Great Master, I am indeed a sinner. Still my breaking the rule regarding drink was because the king so forced and compelled me; and my talking with the fairies was only because I asked of them the way. I had had no such intention in my heart. Why am I thus condemned? I will go back to my cell, and though evil thoughts assail me I will keep my spirit awake against them and overcome their madness, so that a true mind will assuredly return. I will bite my hands and I will repent of the [p14] wrong I have done, and my heart will be restored. It tells in Confucianism how one can thus return to the right way. As I have sinned will my revered Father not give me a flogging and set me right? This is what I understand to be the teaching of the Buddha. Why should you drive me away from all possibility of reformation? I came to you when I was only twelve years of age, gave up my parents and relatives, cut my hair and took the vows of a priest, and ever since have lived dependent on you. It is just as though you had begotten me and brought me up, and our love is as between an only son and a father. My cell is the special meeting place of the monastery, and my hopes are all here. Where shall I go?" The Master said: "You desire to go and that is what makes me send you off. If you did not desire to go who would ever think of sending you? You ask 'Where shall I go?' I answer 'To the place where you desire to go.'" He then shouted: "Hither, Yellow Turban Guards!" Suddenly the commander of the guard dropped from mid-air, bowed low and received his orders. The Master said: "Arrest this guilty man, take him to Hades, hand him over to the King of Youma and then come back to me." When Song-jin heard this his spirit seemed to depart from him, his eyes streamed over with tears, he fell forward and cried out: "Father, father, please hear me, listen to what I have to say. In olden days the great teacher Aron entered the house of a harlot and had intercourse with her, and so broke [p15] all the laws of the Buddha. Still the divine Sokka did not condemn him, but took him in hand and showed him more clearly the way. I am guilty of a lack of care, but still as compared with Aron I am surely less at fault. Why do you send me thus to Hell?" The Teacher replied: "Even though Aron fell into sin, still his mind was repentant; you, on the other hand, have had but one sight of these seductive things and have lost all your heart to them. Your thoughts are now turned to a life of pleasure and your mouth waters for the riches and honours of the world. If we compare you with Aron you are worse by far. You cannot escape the sorrow and distresses that lie before you." Still Song-jin cried for mercy, and had no thought of going, so that the stern Teacher comforted him finally, saying: "While your mind remains unpurified even though you are here in the mountains, you cannot attain to the truth; but if you never forget it and hold fast you may mix with the dust and impurities of the way, and your return is safe and sure. If you ever desire to come back here I will go and bring you. Depart now without doubt or question." There being no help for it, Song-jin made a low bow before the Master, said good-bye to his priest companions, and went along with the constables of Hell past the Look-out Pavilion till he came to the outer walls, where the guards at the gate asked the cause of his coming. The constables replied: "At the order of the Teacher Yook-kwan we have arrested this guilty man and brought him." [p16] The soldier guards then opened the gates for them. The constables reached the inner enclosure and announced why Song-jin had been arrested. The King of Hades had him brought in and then spoke to him in the following way: "Honoured Master, although you live in the Nam-ak Hills under Lotus Peak, your name is already on the incense table before the great King Chee-jang [5]. I have said to myself that hereafter when you are exalted to the throne of the lotus all living creatures of the earth will be greatly blessed thereby. For what possible cause are you arrested and brought here thus in disgrace?" Song-jin, in confusion and shame of face, did not reply for a long time. At last he said: "I met the fairy maidens of Queen Wee on the stone bridge of Nam-ak and failed to restrain my thoughts about them. Thus I sinned against my Master and now I await the commands of your Majesty." The King of Hades sent a message by those who waited on him to King Chee-jang that ran thus: "The Teacher Yook-kwan of Nam-ak has sent me one of his disciples under arrest by his Yellow Turban constables in order that we may decide here in Hell as to his guilt. As he is different from ordinary offenders I am asking counsel of your High Majesty." King Chee-jang replied: "A man who would be perfect has his journey to make, and his return, in order to accomplish all things in accord with his own will and purpose. He cannot escape it, so there is no use to discuss the matter." Just as the King of Hades was about to decide, two devil soldiers announced that the Yellow Turban [p17] guards, by command of Master Yook-kwan, had brought eight more offenders, who were outside the gate waiting. When Song-jin heard this he was greatly alarmed. The King then ordered them in, when, behold, all the eight fairies of Nam-ak came haltingly over the threshold, and knelt down in the court. The King spoke, saying: "You fairy maidens of Nam-ak, listen to me. Fairy folk live in the most beautiful worlds that are known, and have joys and delights beyond measure. How is it that you have come to such a place as this?" The eight in great shame and confusion made reply: "We were ordered by Queen Wee to go and make inquiry of the Teacher Yook-kwan as to his health and welfare. On our way back we met with his disciple Song-jin, and because we talked with him the Teacher said that we had defiled the sacred precincts of the hills, and he wrote and asked that we be sent to the place of the dead. All our hopes and prayers are with your Majesty. Pray have mercy upon us and let us go once again into the world of the living." The King of Hades then called nine messengers who appeared before him. He ordered them in a low voice, saying: "Take these nine and get them back as soon as possible into the world of the living." Scarcely had he finished when a great wind arose and whirled about, carried off the nine into space, drove them asunder, and sent them into the four corners of the earth. Song-jin, following his leader, was borne along by the wind, tossed and whisked through endless space till he seemed at last to land [p18] on solid ground. Then the tempest calmed down. Song-jin gathered his scattered senses, and found himself shut in by a range of hills with the waters of a clear, beautiful stream running by. He also saw inside a bamboo paling and between the shady branches of the trees glimpses of thatched roofs, a dozen or more. Two or three people were standing and talking together. They said in his hearing: "The hermit Yang's wife, now over fifty years of age, is to give birth to a child, a marvellous thing indeed! We have expected it now for some time, but no infant's voice is yet heard, a somewhat anxious circumstance." Song-jin said to himself: "I am to be born again among men, for now that I behold myself I have no body, but am a spirit only. My body I left on Lotus Peak, where it has already been cremated, and because I was so young I had no disciples to take my saree [6] and safeguard them." Thinking thus over his past his mind was distressed, when a messenger appeared and waved his hand to him to come, saying: "This is So-joo township of Hoi-nam county, of the Tang Kingdom, and this is the home of the hermit Yang. He is your father, and his wife Yoo See is your mother. You are destined from a former existence to be a son in this home. Go in quickly and do not lose the favourable moment." At once he went in, and there the hermit sat with his reed hat on his head and a rough hempen coat wrapped about him. He had before him a brazier on which he was preparing some medicinal drink, the fragrance of which filled the house. In the room, [p19] indistinctly, there were heard accents of suffering. The messenger urged him on, saying, "Go in quickly now," but as Song-jin still hesitated and delayed, the messenger pushed him from behind and Song-jin fell to the ground, when suddenly he lost consciousness, seeming to pass into some great convulsion of nature. He called, saying, "Save me, save me!" but the sounds stuck fast in his throat and failed to find expression, so that they became the cries of a little child only. The attendants quickly informed the hermit that his wife had borne him a beautiful son. He took the medicinal drink that he had prepared, went close up to her and they looked at each other with happy faces. When Song-jin was hungry milk was given him, and when his wants were satisfied he ceased to cry. When first born his little mind still recollected the happenings on Lotus Peak, but when he grew older and learned to know of the love of his parents the things of his former existence faded away, so that he forgot them altogether. When the hermit saw how handsome he was and well gifted he stroked his little brow, saying: "This child has indeed come from heaven to sojourn among us," so he called his name So-yoo, Little Visitor, while the special name given him was Chollee, Thousands of Miles. Time that goes like running water saw him grow as in the space of a moment to ten years of age. His face was like the jade-stone and his eyes like the stars of the morning. His strength was firm and his mind pure and bright, showing him to be indeed a Superior Man. The hermit said to his wife: "I am [p20] originally not a man of this world, but because I was united to you I have remained long among the dust of this mortal way. My friends of the genii who live on Mount Pong-nai [7] have sent me many messages asking that I come. On account of your labour and sorrow, however, I have refused, but now that God has blessed us and given us a gifted son superior to others in his attainments, on whom you can rely and by whom in your old age you will assuredly see riches and honour, I shall delay no longer to go." On a certain day a number of the genii came to escort him on his way. They rode some on the white deer, some on the blue heron, sailing off toward the distant hills. Though one or two letters came at intervals from the blue sky, no traces of the hermit were ever seen on earth again. [p21] Chapter II A Glimpse of Chin See THE Hermit Yang left the world while the mother and son remained and lived together. Already before So-yoo (Song-jin) was in his teens he manifested extraordinary attractiveness and ability. The governor of his county called him the Marvellous Lad, and recommended him to the Court. But So-yoo on account of his mother declined all favours. When he was fifteen or thereabouts, with his frank and handsome face, he was said to resemble Panak [8] of ancient China. His physical strength, too, was unrivalled, and his skill in the classics and composition was excellent. In astronomy and geomancy he was well trained, while in military knowledge, such as tossing the spear and fencing with the short sword, he was indeed a great wonder. Nothing could stand before him. In his former existence he had been a man of refined tastes, so his mind was clear and his heart kindly disposed and liberal. He deftly solved the mysteries of life as one would split the bamboo. Different altogether was he from the common run of men. Said he one day to his mother: "When my father went up to heaven he entrusted the reputation and honour of his home to me, and yet here we are so poor that you are compelled to toil and struggle. To live here like a mere watch-dog or a turtle that drags its tail and makes no effort to rise in the world means that we shall be blotted out as a family. I shall never [p22] comfort your heart, and shall fail of the trust that my father has imposed in me. I hear just now that Government Examinations are to be held and that they are open to any candidate of the empire. May I not leave you for a little and try my skill?" While Yoo See, his mother, had no desire to restrain this good purpose on the part of her son, she feared for the long journey that he would have to take. However, since his spirit was awake and anxious to go she gave her consent. Selling what few treasures she had she provided means for the journey. He then bade her good-bye, and with a limping donkey and a little serving-boy to accompany him, he set out on the way. The views of mountain and stream by which he passed were specially fine, and since the opening of the examination was still somewhat distant, he lingered as he went along looking at points of interest and seeking out old landmarks and records. At a certain place as he went by he saw a neat and tidy house surrounded by a beautiful grove of shady willow trees. A blue line of smoke, like silken rolls unwinding, rose skyward. In a retired part of the enclosure he saw a picturesque pavilion with a beautifully kept approach. He slowed up his beast and went near to enjoy the prospect. The encircling boughs and leaves barely permitted him to make out through their shade a wonderful fairy world. So-yoo pushed aside the intervening greenery and lingered for a time, unwilling to go. He sighed and said: "In our world of Cho there are many pretty groves, but none that I ever saw so lovely as this." [p23] He rapidly composed and wrote a poem, which ran: "Willows [9] hung like woven green, Veiling all the view between, Planted by some fairy free, Sheltering her and calling me. Willows, greenest of the green, Brushing by her silken screen, Speak by every waving wand, Of an unseen fairy hand." When he had jotted this down he sang it out with a rich, clear voice, the notes of which resounded like the clink of silver or the echoing tones of crystal. It was heard in the top storey of the pavilion, where a beautiful maiden was having a midday siesta. She awoke with a start, pushed aside the arm-rest on which she leaned, and sat up. She then opened the embroidered shade and looked out through the painted railing here and there. Whence came this singing? Suddenly her eyes met those of So-yoo, while her hair, like a tumbled cloud, rested soft and warm upon her temples. The long jade pin that held the plaits together had been pushed aside till it showed slantwise through her tresses. Her sleepy eyelids were still somewhat weighted, and her expression was as though she had just emerged from dream-land. Rouge and cosmetics had vanished under the unceremonious hand of sleep, and her natural beauty was unveiled, a beauty impossible to picture and such as no painting has ever portrayed. The two looked at each other with a fixed and [p24] startled expression, but said not a word. So-yoo had sent his boy ahead to order his affairs at the inn, and now he suddenly returned to announce that it had been so done. The maiden looked straight at So-yoo for a moment, and then suddenly recollected herself, closed the blind and disappeared from view. A suggestion of sweet fragrance was borne to him on the breeze. So-yoo regretted at first that the boy had disturbed him by his announcement. And now that the blind had closed it was as though a thousand miles of the Yang-tze had cut him off from all his expectations. So he went on his way, looking back at times to see, but the silken window was made fast and did not again open. He reached the inn with a sense of loss and home-sickness upon him, and with his mind mixed and confused. The family name of the maiden was Chin, and her given name Cha-bong. She was the daughter of a Government Commissioner, and had lost her mother early in life. No brothers or sisters had she ever had, and now she had attained to the age when girls do up their hair, but she was still unmarried. The Commissioner had gone up to the capital on official business, and so the daughter was alone when she thus unexpectedly met the eyes of So-yoo. His handsome face and manly bearing attracted her wonderfully. Hearing, too, the verses that he sang she was carried away with admiration for his skill as a scholar, and thus she thought to herself: "The woman's lot in life is to follow her husband. Her glory or her shame, her experiences for the span of life are wrapped up in her lord and master. For [p25] this reason Princess Tak-moon, although a widow, followed General Sa-ma. I am yet an unmarried girl and dislike dreadfully to become my own go-between and propose marriage, but it is said that in ancient times courtiers chose their own king, so I shall make inquiry concerning this gentleman and find his name and place of residence. I must do so at once and not wait till my father's return, for who knows whither he may have gone in the meantime, or where I may search for him in the four quarters of the earth." She unclasped a roll of satin paper, wrote a verse or two and gave it to her nurse, saying: "Take this letter to the city guest-hall and give it to the gentleman who rode past here on the little donkey and sang the Willow Song as he went by. Let him know that my purpose is to find the one that is destined for me, and on whom I may depend. Know forsooth that this is a very important matter and one that forbids your acting in a light or frivolous way. The gentleman is handsome as the gods; his eyebrows are like the loftiest touches of a picture, and his form among common men is like the phoenix among feathered fowls. See him now for yourself and give him this letter." The nurse replied "I shall be careful to do just as you have commanded, but what shall I say if your father should inquire later?" "I shall see to that myself," said Chin See, "so do not be anxious." The nurse then left, but returned again in a little to ask: "What shall I do if the gentleman is already married or engaged?" [p26] On hearing this the maiden thought for a moment and then replied: "If that unfortunately be so I shall not object to become his secondary wife. He is young, but whether he is married or not, who can tell?" The nurse then went to the guest-hall and asked for the gentleman who had sung the Willow Song. Just at that moment So-yoo stepped out of the entrance into the court, and there he met the old dame who came bearing the message. He responded at once and said: "Your humble servant, madam, is responsible for the Willow Song. Why do you ask me?" When the nurse saw his handsome face she no longer doubted his being the one in question, and softly said: "We cannot speak here." So-yoo, wondering, led her into the guest-house, and when they were seated quietly he asked why she had come. "Will your Excellency," said she in answer, "please tell me where you sang the Willow Song?" So-yoo replied: "I am from a far distant part of the country and have come for the first time into the neighbourhood of the capital. The beauty of it delights my soul. To-day at noon as I was passing along the main highway I saw to the north of the road a little pavilion with a grove of green willows, exquisitely beautiful. I could not restrain my joy, and so wrote a verse or two which I sang, but why does your excellent ladyship ask concerning that?" The nurse replied: "Did your Excellency meet anyone at that time, or come face to face with any stranger?" [p27] So-yoo made answer: "Your servant came face to face with a beautiful fairy, who looked down upon him from the pavilion by the way. Her lovely features I see still and the fragrance of her presence has filled the world." The nurse went on: "I shall speak directly to the point. The house you mention is the home of my master, Commissioner Chin, and the lady you refer to is his daughter. From childhood she has been pure of heart and gifted in mind and soul, with a wonderful talent for knowing people. She saw your Excellency but once and for a moment, yet her desire is to entrust herself to you for ever; but the Commissioner is away from home in the capital and he must needs return before any decision can be arrived at. Most important is the matter, however, and in the meantime your Excellency may be far enough away like the floating seaweed on the drift, or the autumn leaves in the wind that blows. Fearing she might never again find you, she has sent me to say that the destiny of life is the all important subject, while the diffidence of the moment and the fear to speak of it are but a passing unpleasantness. Thus has she, contrary to good form and her bringing up, written this letter and ordered me, her old servant, to ask your excellent name and place of residence." When So-yoo heard this he was greatly interested, as his countenance showed. He thanked her, and said: "My name is Yang So-yoo, and my home is in the land of Cho. I am young and not yet married. Only my aged mother is alive, and while the marriage question is one that will need inquiry on the part of both our clans, still consent to the contract [p28] may be given even here and now, and so for my part I consent at once, and swear it by the long green hills of Wha-san and the endless reaches of the Wee-soo River." The nurse, delighted at her success, took a letter from her sleeve, gave it to So-yoo, who tore it open and found a poem which read: "Willows waving by the way, Bade my lord his course to stay, He, alas, has failed to ken, Draws his whip and rides again." When So-yoo had read the verse and noted its brightness and freshness, he praised it, saying: "No ancient sage ever wrote more sweetly." Then he unrolled a sheet of watered paper and wrote his reply thus: "Willow catkins soft and dear, Bid thy soul to never fear, Ever may they bind us true, You to me, and me to you." The nurse received it, placed it in her bosom, and went out through the main gateway of the guest-hall, but So-yoo called her again, saying: "The young lady is a native of Chin, while I belong to Cho. Once we separate, a thousand miles come between us. With hills and streams and the windings of the way, it will be difficult indeed to get messages back and forth. We have no go-between to make proof of our contract, so I would like to go by moonlight and see my lady's beautiful face. What think [p29] you? In her letter there is some such suggestion, is there not? Please ask her." The nurse consented, and on her return gave the message to the maiden. "Master Yang has sworn by the Lotus Hills and the long stretches of the river that he will be your companion. He praised your composition most highly, and wrote a reply which I have brought you." She then handed it to the lady. The maiden received the letter, read it, and her face lighted up with joy. Again the nurse went on to say: "Master Yang has asked if it would be agreeable to you to have him come quietly by moonlight and write another message which you could enjoy together." Her answer was: "It is not good form for a young man and a young woman to meet before marriage. I am promised to him, it is true, and that makes a difference. If we meet at night, however, it might cause unseemly rumour, and also my father would reprimand me for it. Let us wait till noon to-morrow and meet in the great hall and there seal our happy contract. Go and tell him, will you?" The nurse went once again to the inn and told the young master what had been said. He expressed his regret and made reply: "The lady's pure heart and right ordered words put me to shame." Several times he urged upon the nurse that there should be no failure in their plans, and so she left. While Master Yang slept in the guest-house his thoughts were agitated and on the wing, so that he did not rest well. He got up and waited for the crowing of the cock, impatient at the length of the long [p30] spring night. Suddenly the morning star began to dawn and the awakening drums to beat. He called his boy and ordered him to feed the donkey. At this point an unexpected inrush of mounted troops greeted the city with all the clamour that goes with an army rabble. Like a great river they went thundering by, hurrying in from the west. In fear he hastily gathered up his effects and looked out into the street, where the whole place seemed filled with armed men and fleeing people. The confusion was indescribable, and the earth rang with the thunders of it, while the wailing of the citizens shook the very sky. He asked someone standing by what it meant, and was told that it was the rebel Koo Sa-ryong [10] who had risen against the Government and proclaimed himself Emperor. His Majesty was away on a visit of inspection in Yang-joo, and so the whole capital was in a state of hopeless confusion, with the rebels everywhere robbing the homes of the people. There was word, too, that they had locked the gates of the city so that no one could escape, and were enlisting by force rich and poor, every man who could bear arms. Master Yang, in a state of fear and bewilderment, got hold of his boy and hastened away with the donkey toward the south mountain, that stood just in front, hoping to hide himself among the rocks or in some cave. He looked up and saw on the highest peak a little thatched house that seemed to hang in the shadows of the clouds, with the voices of cranes echoing about it. Thinking it the home of some dweller in the city, he went to it, picking his way, [p31] when suddenly he was confronted by a Taoist genius who, seated on his mat, saw the young man coming toward him. He got up, greeted him, and asked: "Are you making your escape from the confusion of the city, and are you indeed the son of the hermit Yang who lived in Hoiram county?" So-yoo gave a sudden start of surprise, bowed low, broke out into expressions of wonder, and said in reply: "I am indeed the son of the hermit Yang. Since the departure of my father I have lived with my old mother. I am dull and slow of intellect and have learned next to nothing, and yet presumptuously thinking that I might have some chance to pass the examination, I came as far as Wha-eum when this rebellion blocked my way. In trying to make my escape I entered these mountain recesses and have been so fortunate as to meet your Excellency. God has helped me to such a meeting I know. I have not heard of my father for so long, and as time has gone by my soul waits more impatiently than ever for news from him. As I hear your words I am sure you have definite knowledge of him. I pray you, lord of the fairies, do not withhold anything, but give a son the greatest comfort that can come to him. In what height does my father dwell, please, and how is he in health?" The fairy master smiled and said in reply: "Your father and I have just had a game of draughts together on Cha-gak mountain peak, and only said good-bye a little time ago; but I cannot tell you where he has gone. His face is not changed a whit, nor has his hair grown grey, so you do not need to be anxious about him." [p32] Yang replied in tears, saying: "I wish the noble teacher would help me just once to meet my father." But the master smilingly replied: "The love between son and father is great, but still mortals and the genii are of two different orders. I should like to help you, but it is impossible. The hills where the genii live are distant, and their ten provinces wide and far-reaching, so that it is impossible to know just where your father dwells. Now that you are here, stay for a time, and when the way opens again it will be all right for you to go." Though Yang heard that his father was well, still the fact that the teacher had no intention of bringing about a meeting beclouded his hopes; tears rained from his eyes and his soul was in deep distress. However, the holy man comforted him, saying: "To meet and to part is one of life's common experiences; also to part and to meet again. Why do you cry over the inevitable?" Then Yang brushed his tears away, thanked him and sat down. The teacher pointed to a harp hanging on the wall and asked: "Can you play that instrument?" Yang replied: "I have some ear for music but have never had a teacher, and so do not have a practised hand." The genius then had the harp brought, gave it to Yang and told him to try. Yang took it, placed it on his knees and played a tune called "The Wind in the Pines." The teacher, delighted, said: "You have skill and are really worth teaching." He then took the harp himself and taught him in succession four [p33] different selections. The music of it was entrancing, and such as no mortal had ever listened to before. Yang was by nature a skilful hand at the harp and had a well-trained mind, so that when he once caught the spirit of it he was master of the mystery. The genius sage, seeing this, was delighted, brought out also his jade flute, and after playing a tune taught it to Yang, saying: "Even among the ancients it was rare indeed that two should meet who are masters of music. Now I present this harp to you and this jade flute. You will find use for them later on. Guard them safely and remember what I have told you." Yang received them, bowed low and spoke his thanks. "Your humble servant's good fortune in thus meeting the lord of the genii is due to my excellent father. He has led the way for me, and you are my father's friend. How could I serve you other than as I serve him? I long to devote my life to you as your disciple." The teacher smiled and said in reply: "The glory and honour of the world lie before you and are urging you on. There is no withstanding their power. It would never do for you to spend your time here in the hills with me. Your world differs from mine, and you were not intended for my disciple. Still your earnest thought I shall remember, and I here present you with the book 'Paing cho-pang' in order that you may not forget my love for you. If you once master this law, though you may not attain to earthly immortality, still old age will be long deferred." Yang again arose, bowed low and received it, saying: "The great teacher has said that I am to [p34] enjoy riches and honour. I would like to ask about my other prospects. I have just decided to arrange marriage with the daughter of a gentleman of Wha-eum county, but have been caught by this rebellion and compelled to fly for my life, without definitely deciding. Will this wedding turn out propitious or not?" The teacher laughed loudly, saying: "Marriage is a matter hidden in mystery and one must not talk lightly of God's plans. Still several beautiful women are destined for you, and so you have no need specially for this daughter of Wha-eum." Yang knelt and received this word and then went with the teacher to the guest-room, where they spent the night. Before the day dawned the genius awoke Yang and said: "The way is now clear for you to go, and the examination is postponed till the coming spring. Your mother will be anxiously waiting. Hasten back to her and quiet her faithful heart." He gave him also money for the way. Yang, after saying a hundred thanks, set out on his journey, his harp with him, his flute, and his sacred book. As he left the place the sadness of departure was borne in upon his heart, so that he turned to look back just once more, but already the house and the genius were gone and only the day remained with the white clouds sailing by, fresh and clean. When Yang entered the hills the willows were in bloom and the catkins not yet fallen; and now in a single night the chrysanthemums were all aglow. He asked concerning this, and was told that it was the eighth moon of autumn. He went to seek the [p35] inn where he had stayed, but it had passed through a war meanwhile and was not the same at all. The whole world seemed changed, in fact. A great crowd of candidates was gathered and he asked about the rebellion. They said that soldiers had been enlisted from all the provinces and that the rebels had been put down, that the emperor had returned to the capital, and that the examination had been postponed till the next spring. Yang went to see the home of Commissioner Chin, but only the faded willows greeted him, as they trembled in the wind and frost. Not a trace was there left of its former beauty. The ornamented pavilion and the whitened walls were but dust and ashes. Stones, blackened with smoke, and broken tiles lay heaped up in the vacated enclosure, while the surrounding village was all in ruins. There were no sounds of domestic life, no animals or birds. Yang mourned over the transitory nature of life's affairs, and how a happy agreement had ended in desolation. He caught the willow branches in his hands, and turning toward the evening sky sang over the Willow Song that the maiden Chin See had written. His tears fell and his heart was indescribably sad. There was no one from whom he could inquire concerning the catastrophe, so he came back to the inn and asked of the inn-master: "Can you tell me what has become of the family of Commissioner Chin?" The inn-master twisted a wry face, saying: "Has not your Excellency heard what became of them? The Commissioner, it seems, went up to the capital on official business while his daughter and servants [p36] remained at home. It turned out later, after peace was restored, that Chin had been in league with the rebels, and so he was arrested and beheaded. The daughter was taken to the capital. Some say that she too was condemned; some that she had become a yamen slave, and only this morning, seeing a crowd of prisoners passing the door, I asked who they were and where they were going, and was told that they were slaves bound for Yong-nam, and someone added that among them was Chin See, the Commissioner's daughter." Yang heard this, and was again cut deep with sorrow. He remarked: "The master of the South Hill said that marriage with Chin See would be like groping blindly in the night. She is dead, I suppose, and there will be no longer any possibility of inquiry." So he packed up his baggage and started for his native province. During this time, Yoo See, his mother, had heard of the war and of the attack made on the capital, and fearing lest her son should be in danger, she called on God with all her heart, and prayed till her face grew thin and her form poor and emaciated. It seemed as though she could not physically long endure it. Beholding her son return safe and sound, she clasped him to her bosom, and wept as for one who had been dead and come to life again, so transported was she with joy. In their talks together the fading year departed. Winter went its way and the spring came round, and Yang once again made preparation for departure to attend the examination. Yoo See said: "Last year you experienced all [p37] sorts of danger on your way, so that my soul still trembles as I think of it. You are young yet, and there is plenty of time for fame and fortune. Still I must not forbid your going as your wish is mine also. This Soojoo county is too narrow and isolated for a scholar's world. No one here is socially your equal, or with ability or bringing-up sufficient for your companionship. You are now eighteen, and it is high time that you decide lest you lose life's fairest opportunity. In the Taoist Kwan (Temple) of the capital I have a cousin, the priestess Too-ryon. She has been a guide to the world of the fairy for many a year, and yet she is still alive. Her appearance is commanding and her wisdom very great, I am told. She is acquainted with all the noted families, too, and the nobility. If you give her a letter from me she will treat you like a son, and will certainly assist you in your selection of a helpmeet. Bear this in mind," said she, and wrote the letter. So-yoo, hearing what his mother had said, told of his meeting with Chin See of Wha-eum, and at once his face clouded over with sorrow. Yoo See sighed and said: "Even though Chin See was so beautiful she was evidently not destined for you. It is unlikely that a child of such confusion and disaster could live. Even though she be not dead, it would be very difficult to find her. Leave off vain thoughts of her, I pray, and seek a wife elsewhere. Comfort your mother and do as she desires." The young man bade her farewell and started on his way. He reached Nakyang [11], and a sudden storm of rain overtaking him, he made his escape into a wine shop that stood outside the South Gate, [p38] where he purchased a drink. He inquired of the master, saying: "This is fairly good wine, but have you no better?" The host said: "I have none other than this. If you desire the best, however, you will find it sold at the inn at the head of the Chon-jin Bridge. It is called 'Nakyang Springtime.' One measure of it costs a thousand cash. The flavour is very good indeed, but the price is high." Yang thought for a moment and said: "Nakyang has been the home of the Emperor since ancient time, a very busy and splendid city, such as the world looks on as supreme. I went last year by another road and so did not see its sights. I shall stop this time to look through it." [p39] Chapter III The Meeting with Kay See MASTER SO-YOO bade his servant pay for the drink and rode off on his donkey towards Chon-jin Bridge. When he passed within the city walls he was struck by the beauty of the surrounding scenery, and the crowds of people confirmed the reports he had heard of its being a very busy world. The Nakyang River flowed across the city like a strip of white silk, and Chon-jin Bridge spanned its rippling wavelets with archways bearing down at the extreme ends as a rainbow drinks the water, or like a green dragon with bent back. The red ridges of the housetops rose high above the city, their blue tiles reflecting back the rays of the sun. Their grateful shadows fell upon the perfumed way. To So-yoo the city seemed the metropolis of all the world. Hastening forward till he reached the Chon-jin Pavilion, So-yoo stopped in front of it, where many finely caparisoned horses were tied, grooms and servants bustling about amid noise and confusion. So-yoo looked up, and from the upper storey of the pagoda came sounds of music that filled the air, while the fragrance from rich dresses and silken robes was wafted on the breeze. The young master, thinking that the governor of Ha-nam must be giving a feast, sent his boy to inquire. He discovered that the young literati of the city had brought certain dancing girls with them and were planning an evening's amusement. So-yoo, [p40] somewhat under the influence of wine, with his spirit awake to youthful adventure, dismounted from his donkey and went inside the hall. He found there a dozen or so of young men with a score of pretty girls sitting gracefully about on the silken matting, with dainty tables of food and drink placed before them. Laughter and jesting went on in merry and hilarious tones. All the dresses were of the finest fabrics and their appearance very striking. [IMG: The Chun-jin Pavilion] Master Yang said: "I am a humble literatus from a remote province on my way to take part in the Government examination, and when passing here heard the sound of sweet music. My foolish heart, unable to go by without a greeting, has set aside all ceremony and come in as an uninvited guest. Please forgive me, noble gentlemen." Noting Yang's handsome face, intelligent bearing, and well-measured words, they arose with one accord and responded to his salutation, giving him a place beside them, each announcing his name. Among them was a certain student No, who said: "Brother Yang, since you are a scholar on your way to the examination, though not an invited guest, you are welcome, and may take part in the entertainment for the day. We are delighted to have so distinguished a visitor, and you have no reason in the world to apologise." Yang's reply was: "I see by your gathering that it is not one at which to eat and drink only, but one where verses are written, and where a man may try his skill of hand at the character. For such an ignoramus as I from the obscure confines of Cho to push my way in here to a seat among you and to a part in the feast is a very rash and impudent thing." [p41] Seeing how humble Yang was, and how apparently unsophisticated, they all felt for him an undisguised condescension, and said in reply: "Brother Yang, your suggestion that we have a trial of skill at the character is very good, but since you are the late comer we will let you off if you so desire. You may write or not just as you please. Have a drink with us and a pleasant time." So they urged him, passing the glass and calling on the dancing-girls to sing. Yang looked at the dancers assembled and saw that all twenty of them were persons of striking appearance. Among them was one specially noticeable, who sat in a lady-like and modest way, neither playing nor talking. Her face was very beautiful and her form was most graceful, such as few on earth could rival. She might have been likened to the merciful goddess Kwan-se-eum, who sits aloft in her silken picture. Yang felt his mind moved by her presence, and forgot all about the feasting and the drink. She also looked straight at him, and by her expression seemed to pass him a message of recognition. He also saw that there were many compositions in verse piled up before her, so he said to the gentlemen "I presume that these compositions are by your excellencies; I would like permission to read them." Before they could reply the dancer herself arose, brought them and placed them before him. He looked them over, one by one. Among them were some fair compositions of an average grade, but nothing striking or of special excellence. He said to himself: "I used to hear that the gifted literati of Nakyang were masters at the pen, but seeing these [p42] I count that a false report." He gave back the compositions to the fair lady, made a bow to the gentlemen and said: "A humble countryman like myself never had a chance to read the writings of the capital before. Now by good fortune I have had the opportunity and my heart has been made glad." The various guests had by this time become quite exhilarated. They laughed in reply: "Brother, you have thought only of the beauty of the composition you do not know what beauty of reward goes with it." Yang made answer: "I have already had special proof of your kindness, and in the passing of the glass have been permitted to become an intimate and sworn friend. Why don't you also tell me what this beauty of reward is of which you speak?" They laughed again and said: "Why should we not? There is an old saying that the wisdom of Nakyang is very great, and that if in the Government examination our candidate does not come off the winner he surely will have second place. We all here are sharers in the matter of literary reputation, and so cannot act as our own judges. But yonder fair dancer's family name is Kay Som-wol and her given name is Moonlight. She is not only the first singer and dancer of this East Capital, she is a master hand at the pen, and knows by intuition as the gods do. All the scholars of Nakyang consult her as to the probabilities of the examination. She decides and they pass or fail like the fittings of the tally. Never is there a mistake in her estimate. Thus have we each given over to her our compositions to have her point out their defects, to pronounce on that which specially meets her approval, and to sing it over for us with [p43] the harp. She is our judge, and we await her unerring verdict. Kay See's name is the same as that of the famous cinnamon tree of the moon, and she will indicate for us the next successful candidate. Won't you try your hand as well, and is not this a glorious opportunity?" Master No said: "There is beyond this, too, a still more interesting fact, namely, that the one whose composition she selects and sings will have Kay See for his fair companion. We are all friends here and hopeful candidates. Brother Yang, you are a man as well as we, and appreciate the joys and delights of life. Will you not accept the invitation and be a competitor in this trial of skill?" Yang replied: "I have not written for so long a time, I really do not know what I can do. Has not Kay See sung you the winner's verses yet?" Master Wang replied: "The fair lady has not once struck the harp or opened her cherry lips. Her pearly teeth have not parted, nor has a single note greeted our ears. We have evidently not written up to her demands, so her heart is unmoved and weighed down for shame of us." "Your humble servant," said Yang, "is from the distant land of Cho and though I have written verses I am an outsider, and am afraid to venture on a contest with you honourable gentlemen." Wang, however, shouted out: "The Master Yang is prettier than a girl--why is it that he fails in the spirit of a gallant knight? The Sage says: 'If it is a question of good to be done, step not aside even for your teacher,' and again, 'It is the duty of the Superior Man [12] to do his best.' I doubt not [p44] that Master Yang is no hand at the pen. If he were, why should he be so modest concerning this small venture?" Now although Yang had modestly desired to decline this unexpected invitation, when he beheld the fair dancer Kay See he was all awake to the occasion. There was no power now to restrain him, so he caught up a sheet of paper that lay on the matting, selected a pen and wrote three stanzas. His writing was like a boat on the sea scudding before the wind, or like a thirsty horse making straight for a stream of water. The various guests caught the spirit of the composition so strong and swift, and seeing how the characters crowded forth from his pen like flying magic, were all startled and turned pale. Yang then threw down the pen, and said to the guests: "I ought to ask the opinion of you gentlemen first, but to-day as Kay See is judge and as the time allowed is passing, with your kind permission I'll hand it directly to her." The verses read: "The man from Cho moves west and enters Chin, He sees the wine pavilion and boldly steps within, Now who shall pluck the flower from the tree within the moon, And claim the winner's honour and the fairy's magic tune? The catkins of the willow they float o'er Chun-jin's stream, The gem-wrought shades of many ply close out the sun between; [p45] Our ears awake to hear a song of special gift and grace, Our eyes behold in silken scenes a gifted fairy's face. The flowers of spring are filled with awe and drop their heads for shame, They sense her song, they feel her step, the fragrance of her name; The passing shadows stay their course, unwilled to steal away, The lighted halls of gladsomeness proclaim my winning day." For a moment Moonlight let her awakened vision rest on the composition, and then her clear voice broke forth into singing sweet and compelling. The cranes stepped forth into the city commons to cheer her, and the phoenixes made their responses. Flutes lost their charm, and the harp its store of sweet melody. The hearers were intoxicated by the music, and all faces turned pale. Out of contempt they had compelled Yang to write, but now when his composition had become the song that Moonlight sang, their joy gave place to envy, and they looked at each other speechless with dismay. To think of giving Moonlight over to this unknown stranger roused rebellious feelings. Their desire was to break the agreement, but such an act of dishonour was hard to suggest, so they sat gagged and dazed looking at each other. Yang saw their ominous faces, and at once got up and made his farewell: "All unexpectedly I have [p46] met with so kindly a welcome from you gentlemen, and have boldly taken part in this happy contest. I have eaten and drunk of your hospitality, for which I thank you most heartily. Having still a long way to go I cannot spend more time with you as I would like, but must now take my departure. Let us meet again at the winner's festival on the close of the Government [13] examination," so he quickly took his leave, none of the guests detaining him. When he had passed outside of the pavilion and was about to mount his donkey, Moonlight came suddenly out and said to him: "On the south side of the road you will see a house enclosed by a white wall with cherry blossoms lining the way; that's my home. Go there, please, and wait for me. I shall come at once." He nodded and started off in the direction indicated. Moonlight re-entered the pavilion and said to the guests: "You gentlemen have highly honoured me, and have permitted me to sing a song by which my destined one is made known. What is your wish in the matter?" They could not hide their feelings of disgust, and said in reply: "Yang is an outsider and not one of ourselves; you are not called upon to concern yourself with him." They talked and discussed, and said this and that, but came to no conclusion. Moonlight, with determination written on her pretty face, replied: "I have no confidence in people who break faith. You have plenty of music here, please continue to enjoy yourselves. Kindly excuse me, I am feeling unwell, and so cannot stay until the end." She arose and went slowly out. Because [p47] of the agreement that had been made, and also by reason of her quiet dignity, they dared not say a word. In the meantime Yang had gone to his inn, packed up his baggage and started in the darkness for Moonlight's home. She had already arrived, had put in order the entry hall, lighted the lamps and was waiting. He tied his donkey to a cherry tree and rapped at the double-panelled gate. At the sound she slipped on her light shoes and came out quickly. "You left before I did," said she, "but I am here ahead of you--how does this happen?" Yang replied: "The host awaits the guest, not the guest the host. I had no heart to be late, but 'my horse is slow,' as the old saying runs." They met with great delight as those destined for each other. She passed him the glass of welcome and bade him sing. His voice was sweet and such as to awaken and captivate the soul. She said: "I am yours from to-day, and shall tell you my whole heart in the hope that you will condescend to take pity on me. I am originally from So-joo. My father was a secretary of that county, but unfortunately he fell ill and died away from home. Because we were poor, and his station far distant, he was buried without the required forms. Having lost his protecting arm, my step-mother sold me as a dancing-girl for one hundred yang. I accepted the disgrace, stifled my resentful soul, and did my best to be faithful, praying to God, who has had pity on me, so that to-day I have met my lord and can look again upon the light of sun and moon. Before the approaches of my home is the main roadway [p48] that leads to the market square. There is no cessation to the sound of traffic that passes day and night. None come or go without resting there. Thus for four or five years I have had a chance to study thousands of passers-by, and yet never has one passed by who is equal to my master. We have met and now my hopes are realised. Unworthy as I am, I would gladly become your serving-maid to prepare your food and do your bidding. What is your thought toward me, please?" Yang comforted her with many kind words and expressions of appreciation: "I am drawn to you," said he, "as truly and as deeply as you are drawn to me, but I am only a poor scholar with an old mother depending on me. I should like nothing better than to grow old with you as husband and wife, but I am not yet sure of my mother's wishes, and I am afraid you would be unwilling to have her choose you as my secondary wife, with some unknown stranger to take first place. Even though you had no objection to it yourself, I am sure there is no one your superior or even your equal. This is my perplexity." Moonlight said in reply: "Why do you say so? There is no one in the world just now equal to thee, my master. I need not say to you that you are to win the first place in the coming examination, and in a little you are to carry the seal of a minister of state, and the insignia of a great general's authority. All the world will desire to follow you; who am I that I should expect to have you to myself? Please, my lord, when you are married to some maiden of high degree and you receive your mother under your faithful care, kindly remember me. Assuredly I shall [p49] keep myself pure for thee only, and shall be at thy commands alone." "Some time ago," said Yang, "I went through Wha-joo city and caught by chance a passing glimpse of one, Commissioner Chin's daughter. Her beauty and her talents were not unlike those of yourself. Now, alas, she is gone, not to be seen again I fear. Where would you suggest then that I find your equal or superior?" "The person you refer to," said Moonlight, "is undoubtedly the daughter of Commissioner Chin, whose name is Cha-bong. When he was formerly magistrate of our county his daughter and I were bosom friends. She is a surpassing mystery of loveliness, like Princess Tak-moon [14]. But there is no use in thinking of her; let your thoughts go elsewhere, I pray you." Yang said: "It is an old understanding that not many special marvels of beauty are born into the world at one and the same time. Now we have the maiden Moonlight and Chin See, two who have known and seen each other. I am afraid that the powers of heaven and earth are exhausted and that no more such are living." Moonlight laughed, and said: "Your words are like those of the tadpole in the well. I'll tell you who there are among us dancing girls of special beauty. There are said to be three, Sim Oh-kyon, the Swallow, who lives in Kang-nam; Chok Kyong-hong the Wildgoose who lives in Ha-pook; and Kay Som-wol, Moonlight of Nakyang. I am Moonlight, and though I have won a name out of all proportion to my merits, Swallow and Wildgoose are truly the [p50] greatest beauties living. Why do you say that there are no more such in the world?" Yang answered: "My opinion is that those two are unfairly and unjustly given a place and name equal to yours." Moonlight replied: "Ok-kyon, Swallow, lives so far away from me that I have never met her, but all who have come from the south are unstinted in their praises. I am sure she has no unfair reputation. Wildgoose I know and love like a sister. I'll tell you about her. She is the daughter of the Yang clan of Pa-joo, who lost her parents early in life and lived with her aunt. From her girlhood days a rumour went forth through all the north land of her beauty, so that thousands of golden yang were offered for her. Go-betweens crowded her gateway like a swarm of bees. Wildgoose spoke to her aunt about it, and had them driven away. Said they to the aunt: 'Your pretty niece has driven us away and will consent to no one. What sort of person does she desire in order to be satisfied? Does she want to be wife of a minister, or of a provincial governor, or is she to be given to some noted literatus or writer of renown? "Wildgoose replied for herself, saying: 'If there be as in the days of the Chin Kingdom someone like Sa An-sok, I'll follow him and be the companion of a minister of state; or if as in the days of the Three Kingdoms someone like Choo Kong-keun, I'll follow him and be the wife of a noted governor; or if there be someone like Yee Tai-baik [15], doctor of the Hallim, great in letters, I'll follow him; or if he be like Sa Ma-chang, who sang the phoenix song in the days of Han Moo-je [16], I'll follow him. [p51] Where my heart goes I will go, but who can tell in advance where this shall be?' "Then the various go-betweens laughed loudly and took their departure. Wildgoose said to herself: 'How could an imprisoned girl from an obscure part of the country with no experience of the world ever be expected to select a noted lord for husband? But a dancer like me is one who shares the festal season with the rare and gifted, and talks to them face to face. She even opens the door to princes and nobles. She learns to distinguish the high-born from the mediocre, and becomes an expert in assaying human worth. She can sense the bamboo from the Tai, or jade ornaments from Namjon; how should she be anxious about whom to choose?' So she yielded herself up as a dancing-girl in order that she might attach herself to one great and renowned, but in all these years she has found nothing but an empty reputation. "Last year the noted literati from the twelve counties of Shantung north of the river held a great feast in the capital and had dancing and music. At this time Wildgoose sang the Yea-sang Kok (The Rainbow Robes of the Fairy). She was like the wild bird itself in grace of motion and matchless beauty. All the dancers of the day dropped their heads before her. When the feast was over she went away by herself to the top of Tong-jak Tower, walked back and forth under the light of the moon, thinking over the writings of the ancient sages, her heart full of loneliness and sorrow, sighing to herself over past events that had broken in upon her fragrant way. All who saw her revered her grace and gazed with [p52] wonder at her loveliness. When Wildgoose and I played together in the Sang-kok Monastery and told our hopes one to the other, she said to me: 'If we two meet a master whom we like let's recommend each other. As we serve the same husband we shall pass our happy days without faults or failings.' "I agreed, and now that I have met with my destined lord I naturally think of Wildgoose, who is at present in the palace of the governor of Shantung. Alas, as the ancients said, there are many devils to interfere with what is sweet and good. The wives of the governor are surrounded with riches and honour, but this is not what Wildgoose wishes." And Moonlight sighed and added: "Would that I could meet my fairest companion and tell her." Yang said in reply: "There are many gifted ones among the dancers, and yet why should a daughter of the gentry have to take a second place to them?" Moonlight answered: "Among those I know there is no one who equals Chin See. How could I dare propose a name to my lord not her equal? Still I have frequently heard the people of the capital say that there is no one like Justice Cheung's daughter. For beauty of face and nobility of heart she is regarded as first of all. I have not seen her myself, but there is no question that her name is well won. When my lord reaches the capital please think of this. Seek her out if possible, and learn if this be so." But the time had come to part, and Moonlight said in haste: "You must not stay longer. The various guests were fiercely angry with you and will be so still. There may be danger; go quickly, please. [p53] We shall meet and have many happy days together, why should I be sad?" The master spoke his greetings: "Your words are like gold and jewels to me, and shall be written on my heart," and in tears they parted. [p54] Chapter IV In the Guise of a Priestess YANG now made his way from Nakyang to the western capital, found a lodging-house and disposed of his baggage. Learning that the day set for the examination was still distant, he called the host and inquired of him about his mother's cousin. He was told that she resided outside the South Gate. So he prepared something in the way of a present and went to find her. She was now a little over sixty years of age, was held in great respect, and was the head of the Taoist sect of women. The master appeared before her with due ceremony and gave his mother's letter, while the priestess inquired about his health, and with evident emotion said: "It is twenty years and more since your mother and I parted, and now here is a young man of the second generation, so handsome and strong.