The Words of the Johnson Family
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The Words of the Johnson Family |
The phoenix is a mythical bird of Korea who rises from her ashes to fly again in immortality. By sifting through the ashes of history we find the living testimony of Korea and her people and how they have within themselves the seeds of renewal. It is a certain sense of destiny which fosters the resurgence of life after devastating temporary defeat.
Korea's miraculous recovery after the devastation of the Korean War can be seen from the perspective of Seoul's own history.
Even from the ancient times of the Three Kingdoms, the Korean people had a strong sense of history, focused on their king, his lineage, and government in the capital city. The Three Kingdoms had consolidated by the year 936 A.D., centering on the Koryo Dynasty, which would terminate with the founding of Seoul and the beginning of the Yi Dynasty.
There is an old saying, "When Seoul catches cold, the whole peninsula sneezes." This centralization of authority served to keep the peninsula Korean, despite temptations from dominant invaders, and it provided the foundation upon which modern Korea would emerge. Deep in the depths of history lie testimonies which should be told. This story is about historical Seoul, as a focal point of the nation.
The place to begin is the legend of the founding of Seoul.
In the middle years of the Koryo dynasty there lived a man called Yun Kwon. The government sent him to select a field to the south of Mount Pukhan, which is the high rocky mountain near Seoul, and to plant plum trees there. But when they began to grow large he was ordered to prune them ruthlessly so that their branches should not grow thick, for Do Son, the famous Buddhist of the Kingdom of Silla, had inscribed a prophecy upon one of the peaks of Mount Beg Ag (Pukhan), and the words were always to be visible. The prophecy read: "The next King shall be Yi and the capital shall be transferred to Han Yang" (the former name of Seoul).
As thus predicted, in the late 14th century, a general named Yi (Yi means "plum") deposed the King, and reigned in his stead. There were many in Keasong, the old capital, who remained loyal to the former King, and they compelled the new King Yi to move his capital away from possible assassination. So he summoned a noted Buddhist who lived in the small temple of Mount Godal, and bade him select a site for a new capital. The monk's name was Muhak.
Muhak set out, and crossing over Mount Pukhan, he came to Dong-Ya, "Eastern Field," just south of the mountain. He stood there pondering where he should go, when he heard a farmer plowing. The farmer was shouting at his ox and saying, "You are as stupid as a Muhak! (which means illiterate), always going the wrong way!" The Buddhist monk pricked up his ears when he heard this, for it sounded as if it referred to him. So he said to the farmer, "You just said your ox was as stupid as Muhak. My name is Muhak. Perhaps you can help me. I am looking for a site for the new capital, and this seems a likely place. What do you think about it?"
The farmer then advised him to go ten ri (two and a half miles) to the north. The field where they met is now called Wang Sim Nyi, which means "Go ten ri."
Muhak followed the farmer's advice, and found a suitable site at Han Yang, the place Do Son had long before prophesied. The site was surrounded by steep mountains on three sides and the deep river Han on the fourth. It was decided that the new capital should be built here, and a castle with walls surrounding it. They could not make up their minds, however, about the location of this wall. One night it snowed, and in the morning they found a circle of snow around the site. They decided therefore to build the wall around this circle of snow. And they called the capital Seoul, which is said to be derived from sol-ul. a Chinese word meaning snow and a Korean word meaning fence.
General Yi's victory brought to an end the former Koryo Dynasty, and marked a new beginning. The Yi Dynasty would retain the royal lineage five hundred years, until Japanese annexation in 1910. From the Annals of King Taejo (the honorary name given Yi after his death) we find less fanciful historical details of the founding of Seoul.
Monks, practicing "geomancy," had selected this site for the capital city for their new king, back in 1392. Following carefully prescribed instructions utilizing knowledge of Taoism, land forms, watercourses, rock and soil formations, vegetation, wind and weather, and a keen sense of spirituality, a geomancer determines the places most beneficial to the welfare of those who will be buried there, those who will live there and their descendants.
The geomancer approves the location, then designates the proper places for burial, palaces, housing, and placement of city gates. Harmony with the natural laws of the land, they believed, would bring assurances of spiritual protection, good fortune for descendants, and prosperity to the entire kingdom.
A living geomancer described his practice of geomancy this way, "The principles behind the formation of mountains and watercourses are the same as those in the formation of a plant. A plant has roots, a stem, branches, leaves and flowers; a mountain has comparable parts. As all parts of a plant are linked together in the production of fruit, similarly, all components of mountains and watercourses form a system which produces auspicious places.
"It is the geomancer's task to search for the auspicious places of mountains. Therefore a good geomancer should be able to tell, when he is in the field, which places are comparable to the roots, stems, or flowers of a plant."
For Seoul, the tallest peak (Paektu Mountain) is the root, with the major ranges leading from the peak being as trunks of a tree, or a vine. The lesser ranges are comparable to branches, and the hills, vane) s and plains are as leaves. The most auspicious place, then, can be considered as the place of the blossom, which will be, therefore, a very fruitful place.
King Taejo (the honorary name for Yi Taejo) had wisely decided on this site to build his new dynasty, but only after conferring with his ministers. He knew how to utilize old history and ancient prophesy and formulate new ties of loyalty, cooperation, and support to rejuvenate the pride of Korean people.
There in the tranquil valley, he brought his administration to begin the task of winning the hearts of his newly acquired subjects. Palace building commenced in 1394, and from his first year, King Taejo offered sacrifices and offerings to heaven, honoring his ancestry, asking protection to insure prosperity, on behalf of his entire nation. This was truly an auspicious beginning for an era which later observers would compare to the Elizabethan era of England.
Within the four great gates and four lesser ones which surrounded the district, Seoul sat as a jewel in a crown. Seoul became a centralized hub of cultural, academic, political, and economic activity. New schools opened, and a saying spread among the people, "Send young men to Seoul and young horses to Cheju." On the grassy plains of Cheju Island horses could run freely; in the administration centers of Seoul, great scholars gathered, steeped in Confucian ethics and bound to the powerful courts of China through Korea's official status of "little brother."
Utilizing models of governing and education brought from China, the Koreans renovated everything which came through the gates of Seoul, and a totally Korean culture blossomed like a plum flower, bearing good fruit, and her influence spread through the entire peninsula until every aspect of life had a distinctive Korean flavor.
By 1474 Korean sounds were systematically formed into a language system called Hangul. It was simple enough for women and commoners to use, in contrast to the thousands of Chinese characters which limited education to the Confucian elite. Administrative records, history, and daily rainfall measurements were religiously kept. Books were published by moveable metal type, pre-dating Gutenberg, the first Western printer, by half a century or more.
Within the gates, more palaces and pavilions were being built, while outside, beyond the seas and the Siberian frontier, new invasions threatened her status and relative peace and security. Mongols, Chinese, Manchus and the Japanese alternatively had threatened her borders, shrinking her territory for centuries, and now new armies arrived.
Beyond the gates, were the mountain peaks serving as perfect lookout points to observe and send warning to the heartbeat center of Seoul. Fire-soldiers manned hundreds of peaks, signaling with fires at night and a column of smoke in the day. These fire stations were on constant alert, signaling to one another. One fire was lit to notify a peaceful state, two fires when the approach of the enemy was perceived, three fires notified the appearance of enemies within the frontier. Four fires meant actual fighting, and five fires were lit when the fighting had reached the palaces of Seoul.
Even ample warning was not enough to prevent the consequences of foreign invasion. With Admiral Hideyoshi's landing and rapid march north in 1592 came Seoul's temporary defeat. The king's main palace was burned to the ground, but the nation recovered, and three hundred more years passed, with Korean culture waxing and waning, like cycles of breathing: invasions, new taxation and conscription, land reform, new efforts at isolation, relative peace, new invasions, patriotic revival, land reform, and so on.
The nineteenth century witnessed a fierce revival of national spirit, and the burned palace was rebuilt on the same foundation, according to the original design, after three hundred years.
The Yi Dynasty, torn from the outside and weakened from problems within, had completed a full cycle since its inception, a brilliant blossoming, a long process of growth and development, decades of turbulence and decline. Like autumn comes to the farmer's plum field, the time of winter had come to the family of Yi.
The 20th century had arrived and Korea held within her the spirit of renewal, like a legacy of history. Russia to the north, China to the south, Japan on the east. All sat ready to stake a claim on the peninsula. Japan's victory of annexation seemed to be a substitute for something possibly worse. Seoul would wait, forty years, before she would see the coming of spring again.
Information on geomancy from an unpublished thesis by Yoon Key-Hong. Legend of Seoul from "Folk Tales from Korea," collected by Zong In-Sob.