Charan

In the days of King Sung-jong, usually written Seongjong, who reigned from 1469 to 1494, one of Korea’s famous men was made governor of Pyong-an Province. Gale’s telling praises Pyong-an as a place of learning, cultivated manners, musicians and statesmen.

At that time there was a celebrated dancing girl in Pyong-an named Charan. She was very beautiful, and her singing and dancing delighted everyone who saw her. She was clever, too. She understood the classics and knew her history. She was the brightest of all the dancing girls, and her fame spread far and wide.

The Governor had one son, sixteen years old, as handsome as a picture. Young as he was, he had mastered Chinese and was a gifted scholar with excellent judgment and a fine sense of style, so that the moment he lifted his brush his lines came out beautifully. People called him Keydong, “the Gifted Lad.” He was the Governor’s only child, and his father’s heart was wrapped up in him.

On the boy’s birthday the Governor invited all the officials and other honored guests to a banquet in his son’s honor, with dancing girls and a large band of musicians. During a pause in the feast, the Governor called his son to him and told the chief of the dancing girls to choose the prettiest of them to dance with the boy and entertain the guests. With one voice the company called for Charan, because her talents, learning and age made her the perfect partner. The two of them danced like fairies, graceful as waving willows and light as swallows, and everyone was charmed. The Governor was so pleased that he called Charan to sit on the platform, shared the banquet with her, gave her a gift of silk and declared that from that day on she was to be his son’s own dancing companion.

From that birthday on, the two were inseparable. They thought the world of each other, and their love was greater than any in the old stories.

The Governor’s term was extended for six more years, so the family stayed in the north. When at last it was time to go home, he and his wife were worried about separating their son from Charan. If they forced the two apart, they feared he would die of a broken heart. But if they took her with them when she was not his wife, his reputation would suffer. They could not decide, so they asked the boy himself.

“Even parents cannot settle a matter of the heart,” they told him. “What should we do? You love Charan so much that parting will be very hard. Yet to keep a dancing girl before you are married would look bad, and it could spoil your chances of a good marriage and promotion. Do whatever you think best.”

“There’s no difficulty,” said the son. “While she is in front of me, of course she is everything. But when it is time to leave, she will be like a pair of worn-out shoes that I put aside. Please don’t worry.”

His parents were delighted and said he was a truly “superior man.”

When the day of parting came, Charan wept so bitterly that the people around could hardly bear to look at her, but the boy did not show the slightest feeling, and everyone marveled at his self-control. In six years of loving Charan, he had never been apart from her for a single day, so he did not yet know what saying goodbye really meant, or how it would feel.

The Governor went back to Seoul to become Chief Justice, and his son went with him. Once they were home, Keydong found his thoughts full of Charan, though he never showed it in word or manner. The state examinations were coming, so his father sent him with some friends to a monastery to study.

One winter night, when the day’s work was done and everyone was asleep, Keydong slipped out into the courtyard. There was frost and snow and a cold, clear moon. The mountains were deep, and the world was so still that the smallest sound could be heard. He looked up at the moon, and his heart filled with sorrow. He longed so much to see Charan that he could not control himself, and, afraid he would lose his mind, he decided to set out that very night for faraway Pyong-an.

He wore a fur hat, a thick coat, a leather belt and heavy shoes. Before he had walked ten li, his feet were blistered, so he went into a village and swapped his leather shoes for straw sandals and his costly hat for a servant’s cap. Then he went on, begging as he went. He was often very hungry, and at night he was terribly cold. He was a rich man’s son who had always worn silk and eaten fine food and had never walked more than a few steps from his father’s door, and now a long winter journey lay ahead of him. He stumbled on through the snow, making slow progress, starving and nearly frozen, suffering as he had never suffered before. His clothes were torn, and hunger and exposure changed his appearance so much that he was hard to recognise. Still he kept going, little by little, day after day, until a whole month had passed and at last he reached Pyong-an.

He went straight to Charan’s home, but only her mother was there, and she did not recognize him. He told her he was the former Governor’s son and that he had walked five hundred li out of love for Charan. “Where is she?” he asked.

Instead of being pleased, the mother was angry. “My daughter is with the new Governor’s son now,” she said. “I never see her. She hasn’t been home for two or three months. Even though you have come all this way, there is no way you can meet her.”

She did not even invite him in. “I came to see Charan, and she isn’t here,” he thought. “Her mother turns me away. I can’t go home, and I can’t stay. What shall I do?”

Then he thought of a plan. While his father was governor, a clerk in Pyong-an had been sentenced to death for some offense. But there were reasons to be merciful, and Keydong, when he went to greet his father one morning, had begged for the man’s life, and his father had pardoned him for his son’s sake. “I saved that man’s life,” thought Keydong. “He will take me in.”

So he went straight to the clerk’s house. At first the clerk did not know him, but when Keydong told him who he was, the man started in surprise and threw himself at his feet. He cleared out an inner room for him, made him comfortable, gave him the best food and treated him with every respect.

Later Keydong asked whether there was any way he might meet Charan. “I’m afraid you can’t meet her alone,” said the clerk, “but if you would be content just to see her face, I think I can manage it. It is snowing these days, and every day laborers are called in to sweep the snow from the inner courtyard of the Governor’s residence. I happen to be in charge of that work. If you join the sweepers and go in with a broom, you will surely catch a glimpse of Charan, for they say she stays in the Hill Kiosk. I can think of no other way.”

Keydong agreed. Early in the morning he mingled with the sweepers and went in with his broom to the inner courtyard where the Hill Kiosk stood. The new Governor’s son was sitting by the open window with Charan beside him, out of sight from outside. The other workers were old hands and swept well, but Keydong had no idea how to use a broom. The Governor’s son watched and laughed, and he called Charan to come and look at this sweeper.

Charan stepped out onto the open porch, and the sweeper raised his eyes. She glanced at him just once, for a moment, then turned quickly, went inside and shut the door, and did not come out again. Keydong went back to the clerk’s house in despair.

But Charan was a wise and gifted woman, and one look had told her who the sweeper was. Back in the room, she began to cry. The Governor’s son was surprised and annoyed. “Why are you crying?” he asked. She did not answer at first, but when he asked two or three times, she said:

“I am a woman of low rank, and you do me too much honor. I have not been home for more than two months, and that is a great compliment, so I have no reason at all to complain. But I keep thinking of my poor home and my mother. On the anniversary of my father’s death, it is the custom to make an offering to his spirit, and tomorrow is the day. But here I am, shut away. I am afraid that no honor at all will be paid to him, and that is why I am crying.”

The Governor’s son believed her completely. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” he asked kindly. He had food prepared for the offering and told her to hurry home and carry out the ceremony.

Charan rushed home like a flame and said to her mother, “Keydong has come, and I have seen him! Isn’t he here? Tell me where he is if you know.”

“Yes, he came,” said her mother. “He walked all the way here to see you. But I told him you were at the Governor’s residence and there was no way you could meet, so he went off, and I don’t know where he is.”

Charan broke down in tears. “Oh, Mother, how could you be so cruel? I can never give him up. We were both sixteen when we were chosen to dance together. People may say it was men who chose us, but it was truly heaven. Our lives grew into one, and there was never a love like ours. Even though he forgot me and left me, I can never forget him. His father, too, called me his son’s beloved wife and never once mentioned my low rank. He was kind to me and gave me many gifts. It was like heaven, not earth. All the gentlemen and officials of the land crowd into Pyong-an, and I have seen so many of them, but none was ever as fine or as gifted as Keydong. He is a gentleman of the highest birth, and he has suffered all this and come all this way for a poor dancing girl. Couldn’t you have thought of that, Mother, and given him at least a kind word? How can my heart not break?”

She wept and wept, and thought hard about where he could possibly be. “There is only one place I can think of,” she said, “and that is the house of a certain clerk.” She flew there as fast as thought, and there they met. They held each other and wept without a word, and then they walked back to Charan’s home side by side.

That night Charan said, “When tomorrow comes, we will have to part. What shall we do?” They talked it over and decided to run away that very night. Charan gathered her clothes, her treasures and her jewels into two bundles, and while the city slept, they set off, he with his bundle on his back and she with hers on her head.

They took the road toward the mountains between Yang-tok and Maing-san counties. There they found lodging at a country house, where the young gentleman worked as a sort of upper servant. He was not much good at anything, but Charan knew how to weave and sew, and so they got by. After a while they rented a little thatched hut of their own in the village. Charan was a beautiful seamstress and plied her needle day and night, and she sold her treasures and jewels to make ends meet. She also knew how to make friends, and the whole village loved and praised her. Everyone felt sorry for the hard times of this mysterious young couple and helped them, so their days passed peacefully and happily together.

Meanwhile, at the monastery, Keydong’s friends woke one morning to find him gone. They were thrown into confusion. Where could the Chief Justice’s son be? They hunted far and wide but found nothing, and word was sent to his parents. The grief in the former governor’s home was beyond words. They combed the countryside around the monastery, but there was no trace of him. Some said a fox had lured him away and bewitched him; others said a tiger had eaten him. At last his parents decided he was dead. They went into mourning and burned his clothes in a memorial fire.

In Pyong-an, when the new Governor’s son discovered that Charan was gone, he threw her mother and all her relatives into prison. But after a month or so, when the search had come to nothing, he gave it up and let them go.

One day Charan, happy at last with the one she loved, said to him, “You are a gentleman’s son, and for the sake of a dancing girl you have given up your parents and your home to live in this hidden corner of the hills. It also touches your duty as a son, leaving your father and mother not knowing whether you are alive or dead. They ought to know. We can’t live here all our lives, and we can’t go home. What do you think we should do?”

“I am at my wits’ end,” said Keydong hopelessly. “I don’t know.”

“I have a plan,” said Charan brightly, “that can make up for the past and give us a fresh start. With it you can serve your parents and look the world in the face. Will you agree?”

“What is it?”

“There is only one way: the state examination. I know of no other. You understand what I mean without my saying more.”

“That is just the thing to save us,” said Keydong. “But how can I get the books I need?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll get them.”

From that day on she sent all through the neighborhood for books, whatever the cost, but in a mountain village there were hardly any to be had. Then one day, quite unexpectedly, a peddler came by with a book in his pack that he wanted to sell. Some of the villagers wanted to buy it to paper their walls, but Charan got it first and showed it to Keydong. It was a huge book of examination exercises, thousands of them, written out in small characters.

Keydong was overjoyed. “This is all I need to prepare,” he said. She bought it for him, and he worked at it day after day. At night he studied by candlelight while she sat beside him spinning silk, so the two of them shared the same light. If he slacked off, Charan urged him on. They worked like this for two years. Being a brilliant scholar, he improved steadily. His handwriting was beautiful, his compositions had no equal, and everything suggested that he would win first place.

Then a proclamation announced a special examination to be held in front of the King himself. Charan packed food and everything he would need, and Keydong set out on foot for Seoul.

At last there he was, inside the palace grounds. The King came out to the examination hall and posted the subject. Keydong took up his brush, and in the inspiration of the moment the lines flowed out of him like bubbling water. His composition was finished.

When the winner was to be announced, the King had the sealed name opened, and it was Keydong. His father, who was now Prime Minister, was standing in attendance on the King. The King called him over. “It looks to me as if the winner is your son,” he said, “but he writes that his father is Chief Justice, not Prime Minister. What can that mean?” He handed him the paper.

The minister stared at it in wonder and burst into tears. “It is my son, Your Majesty. Three years ago he went with some friends to a monastery to study, and one night he disappeared. I searched far and wide but heard nothing. I decided a wild animal had killed him, so I held a funeral and my house went into mourning. He was my only child, and so gifted, and I lost him in that strange way. The memory has never left me; it feels as if it happened yesterday. Now I see that this is truly his writing. When I lost him I was Chief Justice, and that is why he writes it so. But where he has been all these years, and how he comes to be taking the examination, I have no idea.”

The King was astonished, and in front of all his ministers he had Keydong brought in. The young man entered in his scholar’s robes, while the officials wondered why a candidate was being called before the results were announced. The King asked him why he had left the monastery and where he had been for three years.

Keydong bowed low. “I have done very wrong,” he said. “I left my parents and broke every rule of a son’s duty, and I deserve to be punished.”

“Nothing may be hidden from the King,” said His Majesty. “I will not condemn you, even if you are guilty. Tell me everything.”

So Keydong told his story, and all the officials on either side leaned in to listen. The King sighed and said to the father, “Your son is sorry and has made up for his fault. He has won first place and now stands as a member of the court. We cannot condemn him for loving this woman. Forgive him for the past and give him a fresh start.”

Then His Majesty added, “This Charan, who shared your life in the lonely mountains, is no ordinary woman. Her plan to set you right was the plan of a master. She is no mere dancing girl. Let her, and no one else, be your lawful wife. Let her be raised to equal rank with her husband, and let her children and grandchildren hold the highest offices in the land.”

So Keydong was crowned the winner, and the Prime Minister received his son back from the dead at the King’s hands. The winner’s cap was placed on Keydong’s head, and the whole household was swept up in joy.

The minister sent a palanquin and servants to bring Charan to Seoul, and at a great and joyful celebration she was proclaimed the wife of the minister’s son. In time he became one of Korea’s leading statesmen, and the two of them lived happily to a good old age. They had two sons, who both passed the examinations and held high office.

About this story

“Charan” is the first and one of the longest tales in James Scarth Gale’s Korean Folk Tales: Imps, Ghosts and Fairies (1913), from the writings of Im Bang. Gale introduces it as a love story that had already come down more than four hundred years and that still, he says, has “the fresh, sweet flavour of a romance of yesterday.”

The tale is set in the reign of King Sung-jong, near the end of the 1400s, and turns on the hierarchy between a governor’s son and a dancing girl as this narrative presents it. It is the King himself who sets that divide aside, after Charan’s plan sends Keydong to the state examination.

Read the original: Korean Folk Tales (Project Gutenberg)

For older readers: a romance beginning with two sixteen-year-olds, unequal social status, a dangerous winter journey and imprisonment of a woman’s relatives.

Whose work makes the reunion possible?

Keydong’s winter journey expresses longing, but it does not solve the couple’s future. Charan recognises him, secures a chance to leave, supports their household with skilled work and obtains the examination book. The shared candle is a precise image of their unequal tasks: he prepares for public recognition while she works to make that preparation possible.

The ending rewards them through a royal exception. It does not show that the barriers of rank have disappeared for everyone. Charan’s relatives are imprisoned when she leaves, although they have not chosen her actions. Her intelligence deserves attention without treating other dancing women as less worthy or making suffering a requirement for respect.

Compare three forms of support

Describe what the clerk, the villagers and Charan each provide. Which help keeps someone alive, which sustains a household and which opens access to the examination? Then compare Keydong’s “worn-out shoes” speech with Charan’s later actions. What responsibility for that earlier contempt remains after the happy ending?

Historical date reference: the National Archives of Korea’s table of Joseon annals gives Seongjong’s reign as 1469–1494. A historical setting does not establish the romance as a documented biography.

Think about it

• Why did Keydong say Charan would be like “worn-out shoes”? Was he right?
• How did Charan trick the new Governor’s son so she could go home?
• Why did the King say Charan was “no ordinary woman”?

Related stories

• Longka, the Dancing Girl — another Korean tale about a dancing girl
• Faithful Mo — love across the lines of rank in old Korea
• Sim Chung — a devoted Korean daughter and a royal reward