The legend of CHU VAN DICH

The legend of CHU VAN DICH
Adapted by George F. Schultz
This story, which is obviously of Buddhist inspiration, is a lesson in honesty. A poor farmer dies before he can pay off his debts; he returns to life as a water buffalo and works hard in order to take care of his obligations. The creditor also conducts himself honestly in returning the canceled notes to the debtor's sons.

Many years ago, a peasant was driving a water buffalo before the plow in his master's rice field. "Van Dich! Van Dich!" he called exhortingly. "Move along; it is almost noon. A few more furrows and our work will be finished".

Two handsome young men, who were walking along the path that bordered the rice-field, happened to overhear the peasant's words. They stopped in their tracks and looked at each other with astonishment. To whom was the peasant speaking? There was no other person in the field with him. Was it possible that he had called the buffalo by a man's name? It was all very strange.

The last furrow was plowed.

"Van Dich," said the peasant to the buffalo then, "you did a good job. It is time to rest."

The peasant wiped the sweat beats from his brow and then unharnessed the buffalo. The great beast plodded to the edge of the field to graze. The peasant drank some tea from a bowl and munched a few mouthfuls of rice; then, to protect himself from the unbearable heat, he removed his conical hat of palm-straw and began to fan his face with it. Absorbed in his own thoughts, he failed to notice the approach of the two strangers.

"Dear friend," one of. them called to the peasant, "is your buffalo perchance named Van Dich?"

"Yes", replied the peasant, "that is his name. Does it seem odd to you?"

"Very odd," was the reply. "Why did you give him that name?" The farmer considered for a moment.

"Well," he said then, "you are not the first ones who have asked that question. There is an unusual story connected with this buffalo. You see, my master is a wealthy landowner. I have worked for him for a long time and always with this buffalo. I call him Van Dich because he was born with that name as you can plainly see from the two characters inscribed on his hack. He is the cleverest and most industrious buffalo I have ever seen."

The two young men, who were brothers, looked at each other significantly. They thanked the peasant for the information given them and then set off in the direction of the neighboring village.

"Younger brother," said the elder of the two, "how strange all this is. After an absence of many years, we are returning to our native village, which we left as children. I am ashamed to learn that a buffalo has been given our father's name. We must speak to the buffalo's owner about it."

On reaching the village, the two young men inquired about the location of the rich landowner's home. They went there then and knocked at the door. As they were well-dressed and did not look like beggars, they were admitted at once. Tea was served them and water-pipes brought forward. Finally, after a period of polite silence, the elder brother asked the master of the house, an old man with snow-white hair, to tell them about the buffalo called Van Dich.

The old man seemed surprised at their question but not unwilling to tell the story.

"I come from this village," he said. "I started as an ordinary farmer. Heaven was kind to me and my wealth increased from year to year. I acquired large holdings of land. I became richer and richer and many peasants came to work for me. My young neighbor, however, a farmer named Chu Van Dich, had no luck at all although he was an honest and righteous man. One misfortune after another happened to him, and in the end he had no more than a few crumbs of rice for his wife and two sons. He came to me to borrow some money. I gave him what he needed since I was certain that the money would bear good interest. For some time his luck seemed to change; but then his wife fell ill and his two buffaloes died in the same night. A farmer cannot live without a buffalo. I lent him some more money, with which he purchased a new buffalo. But after he had brought in a good harvest and seemed to have saved himself., a fire destroyed his house and all his grain. Chu Van Dich died then from sheer despair. His wife and children left the village and it appeared that I had lost a considerable sum of money."

The two brothers hardly dared breathe. They had just heard the story of their father's ruin.

"Several years ago," continued the landowner, "Chu Van Dich appeared to me in a dream. He was in a pitiable condition. He said that as he had not been able to pay his debts to me during his earthly existence, his soul had been unable to find peace in the Kingdom of the Bead. He said further that he would come to work for me in order to pay off his debt."

The old man stopped to sip his tea. The brothers held their faces in their hands.

"The next morning," he continued, "before I had risen, a servant came running and informed me that a buffalo cow had given birth to a calf that had the characters "Van Dich" imprinted on his back. Was I not to assume then that Chu Van Dich's soul had passed into the calf's body?"

After a long silence, the two brothers raised their heads.

"Chu Van Dich was our father," they said. "After his death, our mother left the village, taking us with her. In a distant province, Lord Buddha had compassion on us and we became well-to-do. we have come here to pay our father's debts. And then you will of course give us the buffalo."

"You owe me nothing," replied the landowner. "I will gladly give you all your father's notes for he has amply repaid me through the work of the buffalo. Ever since the time that he began working for me, we have had a large measure of good fortune. We took good care of him, which was as it should have been, and I am sorry to see him go."

The landowner then gave the brothers their father's notes and ordered the buffalo released to them. After thanking the man for his generosity, they returned to the village, leading the buffalo. There they burned the notes; at that moment the buffalo was seen to fall to the ground dead!

Chu Van Dich's soul thus returned to the Kingdom of the Dead, where it would live eternally in peace.

CHU DONG-TU and princess TIEN DUNG

CHU DONG-TU and princess TIEN DUNG
Adapted by George F. Schultz
The legend that follows is one of the oldest of Vietnam, reputedly going back to the early years of the semi-legendary Hong Bang dynasty. It is probably of Taoist inspiration and affirms a belief in genie and immortals.
The third King Hung Vuong had a beautiful daughter named Tien-Dung (Divine Beauty), who, although of fairy-like loveliness, was endowed with a whimsical nature. Despite her father's entreaties, she rejected every offer of marriage, preferring, as she said, to remain single in order to satisfy her passion for visiting the many beautiful sites of her father's kingdom, known as Van Lang. As the king loved his daughter tenderly, he tried to please her in every way possible, even placing at her disposal a number of vessels including the royal barge, so that she could navigate the rivers of the realm.

At that time, in the village of Chu Xa (Hung Yen province), lived Chu Cu-Van and his son Chu Dong-Tu (Marsh Boy). They were poor fishermen whose home had been ruined by fire. They had lost all their clothing except a single loincloth, which they took turns wearing. When Chu Cu-Van fell seriously ill and felt death approaching, he called his son to the side of his mat.

"After my death," he said, "keep this loincloth for thyself."

But Chu Dong-Tu was a pious son and could not let his old father be buried without shroud. He attended the funeral in borrowed clothes and then found himself without a garment of any kind. The poor young fisherman was obliged to do his fishing at night. During the day he would attempt to sell his catch to the people in the boats passing along the river, remaining immersed in the water up to his waist. One day, Princess Tien Dung, then in her twentieth year, accompanied by a brilliant suite, happened to approach the very place where Chu Dong-Tu was standing in the water. When the young fisherman heard the sound of gongs and bells and perceived the wonderful array of parasols and banners, he became frightened and took cover behind some bulrushes. Then he quickly dug a hole in the sand and covered himself so completely that only his nose was exposed.

Taking a liking to the picturesque surroundings, the princess expressed a desire to bathe there. A tent was set up on the shore. The princess entered, disrobed, and began to pour water over her head and shoulders. As the water trickled to the ground, it washed away some of the sand, exposing Chu Dong-Tu in all his nakedness.

"Who are you?" asked the princess. "What are you doing here?"

"Your Royal Highness," replied the frightened youth, not daring to raise his eyes, "I am only a poor fisherman. Having no garment with which to clothe myself, I was forced to hide in the sand at the approach of the royal barge. Will you not pardon my error?"

Princess Tien Dung dressed in haste and threw a remnant of cloth to the young man so that he could cover himself. Then she questioned him in great detail about his past life. Hardship had not marred Chu Dong-Tu's handsome features, and the princess was not displeased with his demeanor. After some deliberation, she reached a decision.

"I had not expected to marry," she said with a sigh, "but Heaven has ordained this meeting. I cannot oppose Heaven's Will." She immediately ordered all her officers and ladies to come forward. When they had assembled, she told them of the extraordinary adventure that had just befallen her. Then she announced that it was her intention to marry the young man.
"But Your Royal Highness," cried Chu Dong-Tu on hearing these words, "how can I, a penniless fisherman, be the husband of a royal princess?"
"It has been predestined," replied the young woman; "therefore, there can be no reservations about the matter."
"Long live Their Royal Highnesses." cried the officers and ladies in chorus.

Chu Dong-Tu was properly clothed and groomed and the royal wedding took place that same evening with great pomp. But when King Hung-Vuong learned of it, he became furious and shouted angrily at his courtiers.

"In marrying a vagabond," he said, "Tien Dung has dishonored her rank of royal princess. She is to be disinherited and forever banned from my court." The princess had no desire to face her father's wrath. In order to provide for her husband and herself, she decided to go into business. She sold her junks and her jewels, bought some land at a crossroads near the village of Chu Xa, and established a trading post. Visited by merchant vessels from the entire kingdom of Van Lang and from countries overseas as well, the village prospered and in time became a great emporium.

One day, a foreign merchant advised the princess to send an agent across the sea to purchase some rare merchandise that could then be sold at a tenfold profit. Chu Dong-Tu was charged with this mission and together with the foreign merchant left by sea. On reaching the island of Quynh Vien, they met a Taoist priest who immediately recognized the sign of immortality on Chu Dong-Tu's forehead. The former fisherman then entrusted his gold to the foreign merchant and remained on the island for one year in order to be initiated into the secrets of the Way (Dao).

On the day of Chu Dong-Tu's departure, the priest gave his disciple a pilgrim's staff and a conical hat made of palm leaves. He advised him never to be without them.

"This staff will give you support," he said, "but it is worth much more. The hat will protect you from the rain and also from harm. Both have supernatural power."

On returning to Chu Xa, Chu Dong-Tu converted his wife to Taoism. They repented their earthly sins, abandoned their possessions, and left in search of a deserted place, where they would be able to devote themselves entirely to a study of the True Doctrine.

All day they stumbled on through the wilds and at last fell to the earth exhausted. But before lying down to sleep, Chu Dong-Tu planted his staff in the ground and on it hung the conical hat.

The couple had been asleep only a few moments before being awakened by a crash of thunder. They sat up between flashes of lightning and saw a magic citadel suddenly rise from the earth. It was complete with jade-and-emerald palaces, public buildings, and houses for the inhabitants. Mandarins, both civil and military, courtiers, soldiers, and servants came forward to welcome them to the city, begging them to rule over the new kingdom. Chu Dong-Tu and his wife entered their palace and began a reign of peace and prosperity.

When King Hung-Vuong learned of the existence of the magic citadel, he thought that his daughter had rebelled against his authority and was desirous of founding a new dynasty. He assembled an army and ordered his generals to destroy the rival kingdom. The people of the citadel urged the princess to give them weapons so that they might defend her territory.

"No," she said, "I do not intend to defend this citadel by force of arms. Heaven created it and Heaven has sent my father's army against it. In any case, how can a daughter oppose her father's will? I must submit to the inevitable."

That evening King Hung-Vuong's army camped on the bank of the river opposite the magic citadel. His generals planned to attack the following morning. But at midnight a terrible storm arose and the entire citadel with all its inhabitants was seen to rise into the air and disappear. The next morning the royal army found only a marshy pond and a sandy beach at its former sight. The pond received the name of Dam Nhat Da, which means "Pond Formed in One Night", the beach was called "Spontaneous Beach", or Bai Tu-Nhien.

The secret housewife

The secret housewife
Adapted by George F. Schultz
There was once a young man who had lost both his parents and was left entirely alone in the world. There was no one to keep house for him. When he returned home in the evening, tired and hungry, he had to prepare his own meal and wash his own dishes.

It was distasteful to continue living in this manner, and the young man often thought how pleasant it would be to have a helpmate. He earned so little, however, that no father would ever have considered him seriously as a prospective son-in-law.

One evening, the young man returned home to find a five meal on the table and his house in perfect order. He sat down at the table, ate the food, and went to bed wholly satisfied; still he was unable to imagine who might be taking such good care of him. In the morning, when he arose, breakfast had been prepared and was already on the table. It was all very unusual because the house had been locked during the night and he had not heard the slightest noise.

The matter continued in the same way for several days. It was evident that some unknown person was looking out for his welfare. Although grateful for the service he was receiving the young man was plagued by curiosity and greatly desired to make acquaintance of his unknown benefactor.

One morning, he pretended to depart as usual but slipped back into the house through an open window. Then he saw a wonderfully beautiful young woman step out of a picture that was hanging on the wall. She immediately set about cleaning and polishing the furniture. With a leap he locked the door and ran to the center of the room, where he grasped the young woman by the arms and held her firmly.

"Are you the one who has been preparing my meals and doing my housework?" he asked.

"I was sorry for you," she replied. "That's why I did it."

"I want you to take care of me for the rest of my life," said the young man then. "Will you marry me?"

"That would not be possible," replied the young woman. "You are a real man and I am only a portrait on the wall. We are not of the same mold."

Thereupon, the young man removed the picture from the wall and locked it in a trunk.

"You can no longer go back to the picture," he said triumphantly. "Now, will you be my wife?"

The young woman had to give her consent. They were married, lived happily together, and became the parents of three handsome sons. The man grew older with time, but his wife did not age. She always appeared just as young as the day on which she had stepped forth from the portrait.

People then began to wonder about the woman's perennial youthfulness and even her three sons showed their concern. One day, the eldest asked his father about it. At first, the father refused to answer his son's questions; but the latter persisted until told that his mother was a living picture and would never change. He refused to believe it, however, and the father became angry at his son's lack of respect.

"If you will not believe me," he said, "take a look at the frame from which your mother stepped forth."

Then he gave his son the key to the trunk in which the picture frame was kept.

Even when he had seen the frame for himself, the son refused to believe that his mother had once been a part of it. But as he did not wish to anger his father further, he waited until he had left the house before questioning his mother.

"Mother," he asked then, "Is it true that you originated from a picture?"

"Who ever told you that?" she asked in turn.

"I have seen the frame," replied the son, "but I do not believe that you were ever in it."

"Where is the frame?" asked the mother excitedly.

The son produced the key, opened the trunk, took out the frame, and handed it to his mother. She accepted it without a word and then hung it on the wall in its old place.

"Call your brothers!" she ordered.

When the mother's three sons were there with her, she spoke to them in heartrending words.

"I can no longer remain with you, my sons," she said. "I no longer belong to the world of mankind. Say farewell for me to your father, thank him for the good life he has given me, and love each other."

Having said these words, she dried her tears and stepped into the frame.

"Mother," cried the three sons, "come back!"

But the mother looked at them emotionlessly from the portrait and paid no attention to their pleas.

That evening, when the husband returned home and learned of the misfortune that had befallen his family, he wanted to hang himself from grief. But then, thinking of his sons, he reconsidered. He placed a cloth over the picture, removed it from the wall, carried it from the house, and sold it to an art dealer.

Several years later, the man married again. His second wife was of this world and cared for his children as if they were her own. She grew old naturally and finally died.

=== Note: The theme of "the secret housewife" is a recurrent one in Oriental folklore. In the story presented here, the young woman is obviously a "fairy" or immortal (tien) and comes to earth through the medium of a picture. Sometimes, she is a shape-changing fox (a fallen deity) or a celestial maiden who loses her special garment and is bound to earth until it is returned to her.

There is a long poem in Vietnamese, written by an anonymous author, entitled "Bich-Cau Ky-Ngo (The Strange Meeting at Bich-Cau)" that also makes use of this theme. The young man's name is Tu Uyen and the tien who steps out of the picture to do his housework and then to become his wife is named Giang Kieu. The poem is much elaborate than the rather simple version given here.