The Living Reed: A Novel of Korea

by Pearl S. Buck

  The King and Queen exchanged speeches with the lady, their guest, and she responded so freely and with such spirit in her simple language that soon they were laughing together. The royal pair then sat down again, and an ebony stool was brought for the guest since she could not sit upon a floor cushion, so upheld was she by her hooped skirts.

  “The Queen,” Sunia told Il-han, “was by then so pleased with the ease and freedom of the lady Foote, that she declared she would make a fête champêtre for her in the palace gardens, and she invited her on that very day to return another day for this fête.”

  “And did she so?” Il-han inquired, marveling at the ease with which Sunia had accomplished such a victory over the Queen.

  “Never was there such a fête,” Sunia exclaimed and she described it, her hands flying like birds while she talked.

  The fête, she said, excelled all fêtes that were ever heard of in the capital. Two hundred tall eunuchs in splendid uniforms escorted the Queen and the guest through the gardens. All the trees had been brought to blossom at the right day, apricots and plum and cherry, and great displays of chrysanthemums, out of season, glowed among gold-lacquered pagodas and pavilions. Fairy teahouses and miniature temples the Queen had commanded built for the occasion, and music sounded through the groves of bamboo and flowering trees and among willows drooping over ponds. Bright-hued birds the Queen had commanded to sing and fly had been brought from the southern islands and servants in garments as bright flitted everywhere like butterflies.

  The guest wore new garments, Sunia said, the skirts wider than she had before and her arms were bare, but she wore gloves of soft white leather so long that they clothed her arms like sleeves. The court ladies clamored to try these gloves on their own hands, but their hands were like baby hands inside the gloves. These ladies played with the guest’s diamonds and felt her boxed-in waist and asked where she bought the creams that made her skin so white and smooth.

  Thus the day wore on, for it took all day to see the many sights the Queen had commanded for the astonishment of this foreign guest. Musicians sat inside the pagodas and strummed their lutes and two-stringed violins, gongs sounded their mellow notes. Near the bank of a lake where lotus bloomed, a bud opened to reveal a small naked child whose waiting mother lifted him from his rosy bed. A sailing boat on another lake carried girls who danced old legends on the decks, acrobats swung from branches of the trees along the shores, and everywhere about the vast gardens troupes of actors made playlets for amusement of the Queen and her guest.

  “Indeed we all went mad with merriment,” Sunia said, laughing at her memories, “and when the lady Foote parted from the Queen the two embraced as though they were sisters and the Queen could not bear to let her go. And a good lucky thing it was that the fête came first—”

  Here Sunia’s face grew grave and she paused.

  “What next?” Il-han inquired.

  “You know how suddenly the Queen can change,” Sunia said. “One moment she is all kindness and gaiety and the next she is a cruel witch.”

  He nodded. “So what did she do?” he asked.

  “You know how many of the Queen’s kinsmen were murdered by the Regent,” she said.

  Il-han nodded again.

  “Well,” Sunia went on, “even before all this merriment the Queen made up her mind in secret that she would command the death of all those who had taken part in the return of the Regent.”

  “No,” Il-han cried, aghast.

  “Yes,” Sunia said. “As soon as you were gone she commanded them to be killed. Some had already fled beyond her reach and she commanded that their wives and children should be slaughtered.”

  Il-han covered his eyes with his hands at this, but Sunia went on, her voice steady.

  “Yes, she did, and it would have so been done except that I went to the lady Foote after the fête, when I heard of it. I went that same night and begged her to move the Queen’s heart.”

  Il-han lifted his head from his hands. “Who told you?”

  “Your man servant,” she said, “and he heard it from a eunuch in the palace, whose sister was among those doomed by the Queen. Upon that the lady Foote came in haste, uninvited and unannounced, only two days after the fête, and she faced the Queen.”

  Sunia paused to sigh and shake her head and bite her underlip.

  “She had asked me to accompany her, and I saw and heard all. Oh, that Queen! Her face was hard as white marble, and her heart was not moved, not by one word that the lady Foote could speak. ‘Why have you come here?’ she screamed. ‘Who bade you come? Leave the palace!’ This she commanded. And then she screamed, ‘I will see your face no more.’ Such screams she made but the lady Foote only grew the more gentle. At last she knelt before the Queen, she took her hand, and she began to speak of the Lord Buddha who bade us take no life, not even the life of a worm, lest it be hindered on its upward way, and she spoke of the noble Confucius, who taught us that the great are always merciful to the small, for in such mercy is their greatness.”

  Il-han broke in. “Did the Queen listen?” His throat was dry and his voice came in a whisper.

  “At last she did,” Sunia said, “but only when the foreign lady spoke of our own gods. She listened and her eyes grew soft and after a long while she said that the lives of all should be spared. At this the foreign lady wept and then the Queen wept, and they clasped hands and the Queen begged the lady never to leave Korea. And she sent her home in her own royal palanquin and she gave her that palanquin as a gift, the same one which you sent to bring the Queen home to the palace from exile in the poet’s house.”

  So long had Sunia talked that the sun was setting over the wall and now they heard the voices of the children at the gate.

  Il-han looked at her with eyes not only tender but proud. “You have done well, my wife, better than I myself could have done. From now on I share all my life with you. Man and woman, we are equal, partners in everything. I shall have no secrets from you, ever, so long as I live.”

  They clasped hands and Sunia’s eyes brimmed with tears. Better than words of love were his words of acceptance and praise.

  “Alas, that my prophecy must be fulfilled!” Il-han exclaimed.

  On this day he had met with George Foulk to renew their friendship, which they now did in a teahouse beside a small lake where lotus bloomed. Sitting on their floor cushions beside the low table, while a singing girl played the bamboo harp, George Foulk told him in low tones that the Prince, Min Yong-ik, had come the day before to make a private call upon the American Minister, Foote.

  The Prince had come, George Foulk said, with only three in his retinue and he had commanded even these three to stand outside the room where he was received by the American. Foulk had been summoned to act as interpreter, and so only he knew what had taken place. The Prince, he said, had seemed in a dark mood. His face was pale and his eyes were sunken as though he had not slept. He let his head hang, after salutations, and when the American inquired kindly whether he had enjoyed his journey to the West, the Prince replied that he had come home deeply troubled and in sadness.

  “Why sadness?” the American inquired. “I hope that my people did not show you discourtesy.”

  “No,” the Prince replied. “Everywhere we were given honor. My sadness is because I do not believe that my country can ever equal yours. We are oppressed and divided, and without hope. How can we survive as a free people, when we are crowded by these surrounding powers? Sooner or later they will cut us up and eat us in three parts, or one, triumphant, will swallow us whole. We are doomed by destiny, I and my people. I was born in the dark. I went into the light. I have returned into the dark again. I cannot see my way clearly. I hope, yet even hope is feeble.”

  When Il-han heard this now, he could only repeat his fears. “You will see,” he told George Foulk. “The King will announce many reforms, but none will take root. The Prince will not allow it.”

  Il-han’s fears became reality. At first the King co
uld not move fast enough to make reforms. He sent for Il-han again and again, inquiring into every detail of all that he had seen in America, and when he learned how the Americans lived and how they were governed, he sent requests almost daily to the Americans begging for military officers to show how a new army could be raised and trained and he asked for teachers of machinery and teachers in government and in every way of life, until George Foulk told Il-han privately that the Americans were distracted by such demands, and even put to embarrassment before the other western nations.

  “The other western nations are looking at us askance,” Foulk said. “They imagine that we are trying to settle into your country and take it for ourselves, whereas we have no such intent.”

  They parted in gloom each time these two, Korean and American, only to meet again and again, each to learn of the other in private ways. Il-han did not tell what he knew from Foulk to anyone except Sunia, and he and Sunia agreed that it was too soon to speak to the King, and not safe to speak to the Queen. Let the King swing his nets far, and when they saw what fish were caught, it would be time enough to act. So, although Il-han called upon both King and Queen in duty, he was cool in what he said, and gave no advice, nor was advice asked. But he knew that while the King worked feverishly for quick reforms and the building of a new nation before Japan grew strong and before a war broke out between Japan and China, or Russia and Japan, for Japan was set for war and conquest, the Queen worked in secret with Prince Min to stop each reform before it became real. In spite of such intrigue, the King persisted, never believing that the Queen worked against him. She was always gentle with him and came docile to his command, and he thought her as changed as he was when in the privacy of the royal chamber, one night after rare intercourse, he told her of what he had done and what he pleased to do. She listened, admiring and agreeing, and giving him encouragement, only to return to her own palace and plot with Prince Min. This she did not in evil intent, but because she and the Prince loved their country, too, but in their way, and what they did was in true conviction that they must stay with China, their protector and suzerain from ancient times.

  Even Il-han was deceived to a degree that later astonished him when the revelation of all this took place at a great dinner given by Hong Yong-sik to celebrate the new postal system which the King had commanded to be established throughout the country. Since this Hong Yong-sik had been among those who went on the mission abroad, on return he had abetted the King and urged him on, until the King had made him the head of the new national post office. Hong had not only accepted the position, but he had become the leader of all those who opposed the old regime and, above all, Prince Min himself.

  Who could believe that Hong Yong-sik would go to such lengths? On the day of the dinner, when the guests were assembled in the great hall, all was merriment and music. The guest of honor was the American ambassador, Foote, and the next guest of honor was Prince Min himself, and after him Il-han and then George Foulk. Below these were other Americans, among them a physician surnamed Allen, and below him other Korean yangban.

  In the midst of the feast suddenly there was a shout.

  “Fire!”

  The word rang through the hall. “Fire—fire!”

  All started to their feet, but Prince Min rose first, for it was a law that a high military official should attend any fire in his neighborhood and give all aid to put it out before it spread elsewhere. But Il-han guessed that the cry was only a signal and he ran after Prince Min to warn him. Alas, it was too late, for certain among the guests in the lower seats were running after the Prince. They tore off their brilliant robes of many-colored silks as they ran and showed themselves in common cotton garments underneath. These men pursued the Prince and caught him at the open door and they drew out short swords and hacked him again and then again and then they escaped, climbing over the walls and leaping down the other side.

  Prince Min staggered back into the hall. Seven cuts had gashed his head open and one cheek had been carved out and hung down over his jawbone. His several arteries were cut and blood poured from him. Il-han sprang forward to catch the Prince as he fell, but he was not more quick than the American ambassador, who lifted Prince Min’s feet. Together they laid him down upon the cushions. The servants were wailing and running here and there in uselessness, but General Foote shouted to the American physician, Allen, and this man in a short time stopped the flow of blood with tourniquets of cloth torn from garments and held fast with the same chopsticks with which a few minutes before the guests had been eating the delicacies.

  The Prince by now knew nothing. Whether he would live or die could not be told, but after some time the physician Allen declared that there was hope for his life, and he sent for medicines and for instruments to sew up his wounds, and thus the life was saved. Il-han stayed near throughout, and when at last there was some assurance that the Prince would live, he urged the American ambassador to return to his embassy.

  “Your lady will be frightened to see you,” he said. “If you will permit me, I will go with you myself.”

  The American accepted this and the two men then went on foot, for by now there was no bearer or any equipage to be found, and George Foulk followed. Total confusion was everywhere and Il-han did not tell the American that he feared this attempt at murder was only the beginning of new revolt against the Queen. Together they walked through the crowded streets, pushing their way between the people, the snow crunching and cracking under their feet, until they came to the Embassy. Here when the gates opened Il-han saw for the first time the lady Foote. She stood in the doorway of the house, her full skirts of crimson silk flowing about her, and he saw her clearly in the light of a lantern a servant held behind her.

  She screamed when she saw her husband, for he was covered with blood.

  “You are hurt!” she cried.

  “It is not my blood,” he replied. “It is the blood of Prince Min. They have tried to murder him, but they have failed.”

  So much Il-han could understand, and he prepared to withdraw, yet when he looked again at these two he was impressed by the intelligence he saw on their faces, and he remembered how good the lady had been and how she had kept the Queen from the folly of murder. He lingered a moment.

  “Your Excellency,” he said to the ambassador, George Foulk translating. “I must warn you now that this is indeed the beginning of a fire which we may not be able to put down. Let me ask the King to send his royal guard here to escort you to the palace where we can protect you.”

  Bloodstained as he was, the American was still proud. He drew himself to his height and he took his lady’s left hand and put it in the curve of his right elbow.

  “I thank you, my friend,” he said, “but we must remain in our own place, my wife and I. In all circumstances I must insist upon the inviolability of my government’s embassy. Here there must be a center of peace, however the mob riots outside our walls.”

  When George Foulk had repeated this in his own language, Il-han could only bow and withdraw. He looked back once, at the gate, and he saw those two, man and wife, standing side by side in the doorway. The woman’s face was as calm in determination as the man’s, and he could but envy them their faith in themselves and in their government.

  … When he returned to his house, he found Sunia gone. His man servant waited for him, weeping and distracted.

  “I begged her not to go, master,” the man wailed. “I told her that you would find your way home.”

  “Surely she did not go in search of me!” Il-han exclaimed.

  “She went to the Queen,” the man wailed. “She thought you might have gone to save the Queen.”

  The tutor now ran out. “Sir,” he said, “it is the King who is in danger.”

  “How do you know?” Il-han demanded.

  “I am told—I am told,” the tutor said urgently. “Never mind how, but it is said that the King has asked the Japanese minister for help and Japanese soldiers have surrounded the palace. A battl
e is taking place at this very moment.”

  Il-han turned at once. “Take care of my sons,” he commanded, and he ran into the street followed by his servant. On foot he made his way through the crowds now shouting and screaming, some for the King, some for the Queen, most of them only adding to the noise and madness. Steadily he pushed his way among them and between them, they too maddened to see him or care who it was that burrowed here and there and always toward the palace. At the palace gates he spoke to the chief guard and gave his name. All knew him as loyal to the King and allowed him to pass. He entered then and saw in the gardens before the palace the bodies of the dead, some bleeding into the snow beneath a pine tree, some lying on the ice of a frozen lotus pond, and others scattered, twisted and crumpled. He bent and searched each face as he passed, and recognized one and another. They were all followers of the Queen, upholders of her determination to stay with the Chinese and oppose the reformers. Pools of blood lay in every crevice and low place, on stones and frozen ground, as he made his way toward the palace, expecting as he went to see the Queen herself bound with ropes and dragged out to her death. Then he lifted his eyes by chance and in the distance beyond the palace walls he saw the American flag flying in the wintry wind. At this sight he took courage, and he wondered if the Queen, hiding somewhere inside her palace, saw that flag, too, and took courage with him.

  Suddenly, before he could reach the entrance to the palace, he heard a fresh uproar in the streets, and the sound of cannon. He stopped and listened and heard Chinese voices crying their war cries, and he knew what had happened. Yuan Shih-k’ai, the Chinese general sent by the Empress Tzu-hsi to maintain the power of her throne over Korea, had ordered soldiers to protect the palace and the truebone royal King and Queen. What could this mean but a battle between Chinese and Japanese, here in the palace itself? Il-han ran into the palace then and into the King’s throne room. There the King sat on his throne, and by him sat the Queen, both in their royal robes, surrounded by a handful of Japanese soldiers.