Samguk Yusa

by Ilyon

  Eventually Kyonghung came out of the palace and was about to mount his horse when he heard his servants discussing the strange monk. In great surprise he sent them to find out where the man lived. Seeing the servants coming after him, the monk threw down his basket outside Munsu Temple and disappeared, and they found only his staff in front of the image of Munsu Buddha. In the basket they found, not a dried fish but a piece of pine bark

  When the servants told Kyonghung what they had seen, he sighed deeply and said, “A great sage has descended from heaven to warn me not to ride horses.” And from that day until his death he was never again seen mounted on a horse.

  A record of Kyonghung's virtuous deeds was written by the monk Hyonpon and inscribed on a stone monument at Samnang-sa.

  In the Pohyon Sutra it is written, “The Maitreya Bodhisattva said, T will be reborn in Yompuche (in India) to save the descendants of the disciples of Sakyamuni, but I will exclude all mounted monks, for they will never see Buddha.'

  Song in Praise of Kyonghung

  Great is the ancient sage's model deed shown to the multitude;

  Why should not the descendants diligently follow his example?

  If a monk should shamelessly carry a fish on his back,

  How could he proudly wear the dragon's flower on his head?

  (The last line refers to the flowering tree under which Maitreya was sitting when he became a Buddha.)

  118. Two Ragged Monks

  (The first of these moral tales refers to one of the most famous incidents in Chinese history, the rebellion of An Lu-shan against the T'ang Emperor Hsuan-tsung (not “Ming-wang” as in certain popular ballads). In his sixties this Emperor took as a concubine the beautiful Yang Kuei-fei (“consort” Yang) and is said to have fallen completely under her influence. She showed great favor to a general named An Lu-shan, and is rumored to have been his lover. Eventually he revolted and was at first successful. The Emperor was forced to flee, and his discontented soldiers insisted upon the execution of Yang Kuei-fei and her brother. The rebellion was crushed soon afterwards. Though it survived for another century and a half, the T'ang dynasty was permanently weakened by this rebellion.

  (The second story has nothing to do with Korea and is evidently included simply because of its resemblance to the first.)

  After the reign of the Empress Wu, who in the first year of Chang-shou (692) set aside the rightful sovereign and usurped the throne for twenty years in China, Emperor Chung-tsung resumed the throne and ruled for nine years. At this time King Hyoso of Silla came to the throne and began building Mangdok Temple, which was dedicated to the T'ang royal family.

  In the fourteenth year of King Kyongdok (755) the pagoda in the courtyard of Mangdok-sa was shaken from top to bottom. This was the same year that An Lu-shan made an alliance of love with Yang Kuei-fei and led a rebellion, with an attempt upon the life and throne of T'ang Ming-wang (Hsuan-tsung). The people of Silla denounced the adulation of the T'ang rulers by their royal family, asserting that it was natural that the pagoda was shaken to its foundation, since the temple had been built in flattery of the decadent T'ang royalty.

  A festival was held at Mangdok-sa on its completion, and the King attended the ceremony in person. There he saw an unmarried monk, dressed in rags and bent with age, standing in the courtyard. “Your Majesty,” the monk said, “allow this poor monk to participate in the ceremony.”

  “With great pleasure,” the King replied. “Please take a seat and worship the great Buddha on this happy day.”

  When the ceremony was over the King said jokingly, “My good monk, where do you live?”

  “I live under Pip'a-am (Harper's Rock),” he replied.

  “When you go home,” the King said, “do not tell anybody that you offered sacrifices to the great Buddha in the company of the King.”

  “My good King,” laughed the monk, “please tell nobody that you offered sacrifices to the incarnation of Buddha.” And he rose into the air and flew away toward the south.

  In great surprise and shame the King bowed in that direction and sent courtiers to find the flying monk. After a time they returned and reported that they had found the monk's bronze staff and wooden bowl on a rock in Samsong-gok (Three Star Valley) near Namsan, but the monk was nowhere to be found.

  The King had a Sakya Temple built beneath Harper's Rock, and another called Pulmu-sa (No Buddha Temple) on the spot where the monk disappeared, with his staff and bowl preserved in it.

  ***

  In volume IV of Chiron (Book on Intelligence) we find the following story. Long, long ago there lived in Kashmir in India a wandering monk named Kebin San-tsang (which simply means “learned monk of Kashmir") who always dressed in shabby clothing. One day during a lecture tour to Aranya (Sanskrit for temple) meetings, he came to Ilwang-sa (One-King Temple) and found that a company of rich people were offering large quantities of good food and wine as sacrifices to Buddha. Thrice he entered the temple gate and thrice he was pushed out by the gatekeepers because his clothing was not neat and tidy.

  After a time he returned wearing a fine robe and the same gatekeepers let him pass. The worshippers said, “Here comes a noble guest! Come in! Please be seated! Help yourself! The ceremony is over, Buddha has had his breakfast, and now we are enjoying a good dinner with the food and wine we offered him.” (That is, the spiritual essence of the offering has been accepted by Buddha and the worshippers are now free to consume its material part.)

  Instead of putting the food and wine into his mouth, the monk put them on his robe, saying, “Eat, drink and be merry!” All the company thought this very strange and asked the monk why this toast to his robe. “Because,” he replied, “it is not me but my fine robe to which you are serving all this good food and wine.”

  In this mortal world of vainglory men and women are treated according to their looks, their clothes, their ornaments. People worship Buddha for his fine image, intricately carved and richly gilded, and small-minded monks are more interested in eating the food offered to Buddha than in chanting prayers to him.

  These two stories are written in the same spirit.

  Song in Praise of the Two Ragged Monks

  The feasting monks call their rich friends to feed their gilded images,

  And to admire their newly made pictures of silver Buddhas;

  The living Buddha in the human mind is often lost sight of,

  Just as the faint moon over Harper's Rock is overcast with clouds,

  And its somber shadow is reflected in the pool with dim and broken rays.

  119. Wolmyong's Lyric Songs

  On April 1 in the nineteenth year of King Kyongdok (760) two suns appeared in the sky and remained for ten days, an omen of catastrophe on earth. Alarmed, the King summoned his courtiers together and asked them what should be done. The royal astrologer said, “In order to avert the coming disaster we must find a lucky monk to compose and, read aloud the prayer 'Sanhwa-kongdok' (Virtue of scattering Flowers).”

  The King ordered his servants to build a purified temporary altar in front of the audience hall and proceeded to Ch'ongyang-nu (Spring Pavilion) to await the coming of the lucky monk who was predestined to perform this great feat. Just then Wolmyong-sa (Moonlight Priest) was seen walking along the road south of the palace. He was quickly brought before the King.

  “My good monk,” the King said, “I command you to compose a prayer and read it aloud before the Buddhist altar. Perhaps the spiritual power of your music will charm away my grief over the two suns in the sky.”

  “Your Majesty,” Wolmyong replied, “I am a monk of the Kukson Hwarang order (a religious adjunct of the Hwarang). I know Hyang-ga (native folksongs) but I am not well versed in Sanskrit music.”

  “Never mind,” said the King. “Since you are the one chosen today, you may compose a fine song in our native language rather than an Indian song, so that all my people can sing it.”

  Wolmyong then improvised a 'Tosol-ga' (Song of the Tsita Heaven) as follows.<
br />
  I sing as I scatter thee, O flowers!

  Fall and obey the decree of a straight mind;

  Attend the King Maitreya on his throne. This song may be paraphrased as follows:

  I sing of scattering flowers on the dragon pavilion;

  As I send a petal to the blue clouds today

  For it to serve a sincere, straight mind

  And enter the spiritual home in the faraway heaven of Tsita.

  In vulgar language this is called 'Sanhwa-ga' (Song of Scattering Flowers) but it should be 'Tosol-ga' (Song of the Tsita Heaven). Sanhwa-ga is a different song of many verses in vulgar words, and so has been omitted from these pages.

  Soon after the song was sung the mysterious sign of calamity in the heavens disappeared, and one blazing sun shone upon the earth as the sole ruler of the day.

  Greatly delighted, the King rewarded the monk with a package of fine tea and a rosary of 108 crystal beads. Suddenly a handsome youth appeared from the western service gate bearing the gifts in his hands. Wolmyong thought he was one of the Queen's pages, while the King guessed he was a follower of Wolmyong, but both were wrong, for he vanished from their sight like a mist. The King sent servants to fetch him back, but he hid himself in the Naewon Pagoda, leaving the tea and the rosary before the southern mural painting of Maitreya.

  Seeing how Wolmyong's devotion thus moved the Buddha, the people of Silla admired his virtues. The King paid him the highest respect and gave him a gift of one hundred rolls of silk.

  One day Wolmyong offered sacrifice to the spirit of his dead sister and sang an elegy of his own composition to Hyang-ga music:

  I depart in tears; farewell.

  O.... stay! Why hurry away without saying all your words?

  Like leaves in the autumn wind hither and thither

  We scatter from the branch where we grew together.

  But don't you know where you are going?

  I shall build a road to Amitabha land

  And wait there till we meet again.

  As he sang this doleful song with many tears a mad wind arose in the sky and blew the paper money away to the west. (Special paper money was used in memorial services for the dead.)

  Wolmyong played the flute very often when he was living at Sach'on-wang-sa (Temple of the Four Deva Kings). One night as he strolled along the road in front of the temple playing his flute in the moonlight, the orbed maiden of the sky paused in her journey across the Milky Way and looked down upon him as if charmed by his heartfelt music. The people named that part of the road Wolmyong-ni (Moonlight Village) and his fame as a musician spread far and wide. Wolmyong was a disciple of Nungchun-Taesa, a renowned monk of Silla. The people loved to sing Hyang-ga folksongs, which moved even the hearts of spirits in heaven and earth on many occasions.

  Song in Praise of Wolmyong

  The high winds blew away the paper money to pay for his sister's journey to the other world;

  The trill of his flute moved the lady Moon to make a Heng-o of her.

  Do not say that heaven-stretching Tosol is far away;

  We reach it with a song of ten-thousand-virtue flowers.

  (Tosol, Tsita in Sanskrit, is the fourth of the Buddhist heavens, where all earthly passions are forgotten. Heng-o (Hang-a in Korean) is the name of the spirit of the moon, here compared to Wolmyong's sister.)

  120. Sonyul Returns from Death

  Sonyul, a good monk of Mangdok Temple, used the donation he received from local people to pay for the copying of the six hundred volumes of the Buddhist scripture called Panya-gyong (a book on the intelligence, Prajna in Sanskrit). But before he could finish the work the messenger of death came and took him to the Yellow Spring (the world of the dead).

  The sorrowful monk stood before the King of Hell in the Hall of Judgment. Before him were a mirror and a scale, which reflected and weighed the sins of the dead. On the basis of their evidence, the court decided whether to send the soul to hell, purgatory of heaven. (This is not to be understood in the Christian sense, for every soul is eventually reborn until it reaches Nirvana in Buddhist doctrine. No other state is permanent.)

  The King looked into the mirror and then at the monk's face and asked, “What was your occupation during life in human society?”

  “I was a monk,” Sonyul answered. “I began copying the six hundred volumes of a Buddhist scripture, but before I could complete it I was brought to Your Majesty's dark palace.”

  “Hum!” said the King. “You are a good monk and have sinned against nobody. According to my records your life is now over and your soul must say farewell to your flesh. But since your long-cherished noble work has not been finished, I shall give you a special pardon, and allow you to return to life until all of the sacred volumes are compiled and copied. You may go.”

  During his journey back to the land of the living, Sonyul encountered the soul of a woman, who, bowing to him and weeping, said, “I was a native of Silla in Namyomju. Because my parents stole part of a rice field belonging to Kumgang Temple, I entered this dark world and have been subjected to unspeakable torment. When you return to life, please tell my father and mother to return the land immediately. During my lifetime I hid a bottle of sesame oil under my toilet box and a roll of my hand-spun silk between the folds of my quilt. If you burn the oil in the temple lantern and sell the silk to pay for your copying expenses, I will be freed from the torments of the Yellow Spring by your grace.”

  “Where was your home on earth?” Sonyul asked.

  “You will find it southwest of Kuwon Temple in Saryang-pu,” she replied.

  Sonyul came to life again after he had been buried at the foot of Namsan for ten days. He called loudly from his grave for three days, and at last a cowherd heard him and ran to the temple to tell the strange news. Soon a group of sturdy monks arrived, dug into the grave, and released the resurrected monk from the grassy mound. Breathing a sigh, Sonyul related to them his adventures in the world of the dead.

  He visited the home of the woman whom he had met on the banks of the Yellow Spring, as she had requested. She had been dead for fifteen years, but the sesame oil and the silk were still there, and as fresh as new. Sonyul prayed to Buddha for her soul, and one night she came to him in a dream and said. “Thanks to your grace, my soul is now at peace.”

  All the people admired the great virtue of the resurrected monk and assisted him in copying the treasured volumes, until the fine series was completed. They are now kept in the archives of the monks of Kyongju, and twice a year, in spring and autumn, the ancient pages are spread in the sun to banish devils and catastrophes.

  Song in Praise of Sonyul

  I envy your victory over death;

  Your soul flies home to its old forests and fountains.

  When my parents ask about my fate in the lower world,

  Tell them to restore a furrow of farmland for me.

  121. Kim Hyon and the Tigress

  During the reign of King Wonsong in Silla (785-799) there lived a young man named Kim Hyon. In those days there was a strange superstition that anyone who had a great wish in his heart could have it granted if he prayed every night from the eighth to the fifteenth of February every year while walking around the tall pagoda in the precincts of Hungnyun Temple.

  Kim Hyon had such a wish, and one night at midnight as he paced around the pagoda whispering his prayer, he heard the rustle of a woman's dress behind him. Looking back in surprise, he saw in the faint moonlight a beautiful maiden, walking and praying as he was.

  Now this girl was not so shy as might have been expected. She approached Kim Hyon and said, “Pardon me for having surprised you like this. To speak the truth, I too have a wish, which is why I am here, but I am lonely. Please allow me to follow in your footsteps.” Kim Hyon was charmed by her beauty and readily assented. Every night they walked around the pagoda hand in hand, and there they fell in love. (Something more substantial than mere sentiment is implied here.)

  Love is sweet, but love is sad. So
on the final evening of their prayers had come, and they were forced to part. Kim Hyon took the girl's hand and accompanied her to her home in a forest remote from other human habitation. It was a low thatched house and there seemed to be no-one about except an old woman who appeared to be the girl's mother.

  The old woman stared hard at Kim Hyon and said to her daughter, “Who is this who is so bold as to keep you company?” Feeling that concealment would be useless, the girl explained what had happened between herself and the young man. “That's too bad,” the old woman grumbled, “but since there's no help for it we must hide him somewhere before your three brothers come home.”

  Hardly had they hidden him in a corner of the house when the thunderous roars of three tigers in the distance broke the silence of the night, and made the young man tremble from head to foot. Nearer and nearer they came, until the door was flung open and a tiger said, “Oh, good smell! Human flesh!”

  “Nonsense!” the old woman said angrily. “There's no human flesh in this house. Listen, you fools! A dreadful thing has happened. Tonight an oracle descended from heaven, saying that since you have killed so many living creatures you must be punished immediately.” The tigers looked pale and trembled with fear.

  Then the maiden interposed. “My brothers, you have promised the merciful Buddha not to harm living creatures any more. But you have broken this promise time and again, and continue your cruel old game, nor have you heeded my prayer at the temple to stop your bad habit. Now your doom is upon you. Repent and be gone, and I shall redeem your sins by suffering the heavenly punishment myself. Go, go quickly or they will kill you.”

  The three tigers looked very sad, hanging their heads and twitching their long tails nervously. Then, in a twinkling, they were gone. The maiden woke Kim Hyon from a swoon and said to him, “Through a singular adventure I have enjoyed your passionate love, but unfortunately I am not human. Nevertheless, I can never forget your tender caresses. I have decided to take upon myself the consequences of my brothers' evil deeds. In other words, my life will soon be ended by the tigers' victims. It will make me happy, therefore, to die by your sword. Perhaps in this way I can repay your kindness somewhat. Listen! Tomorrow I will run amuck in the west market and frighten all the citizens. Nobody in the kingdom will dare to fight me and the King will offer a prize to anyone who can. Then have no fear, but only chase me into this forest, where I will await the stroke of your sword.”