Eerie Tales from Old Korea

by Brother Anthony of Taizé

  Those who heard this explanation, knowing that Jeon himself was a strange being, paid no attention to it. At that time in Seoul there was a certain literary undergraduate in office whose house joined hard on the street. This man used to see Jang frequently going about begging, and one day he called him and asked who he was and why he begged. Jang made answer, “I was originally of a cultured family of Jeolla-do, but my parents died of typhus fever, and I had no brothers or relations left to share my lot. I alone remained of all my clan, and having no home of my own I have gone about begging, and have at last reached Seoul. As I am not skilled in any handicraft and do not know Chinese letters, what else can I do?” The undergraduate, hearing that he was from a cultured family, felt very sorry for him, gave him food and drink, and refreshed him.

  From this time on, whenever there was any special celebration at his home, he used to call Jang in and have him share it. On a certain day when the master was on his way to the office, he saw a dead body being carried on a stretcher off toward the Water Gate. Looking at it closely from the horse on which he rode, he recognized it as the corpse of Jang Doryeong. He felt so sad that he turned back to his house and cried over it, saying, “There are lots of miserable people on earth, but who ever saw one as miserable as poor Jang? As I reckon the time over on my fingers, he has been begging in Bell Street for fifteen years, and now he passes out of the city a dead body.”

  Twenty years and more afterwards the master had to make a journey through Jeollanam-do. As he was passing Mt. Jirisan, he lost his way and got into a maze among the hills. The day began to wane, and he could neither return nor go forward. He saw a narrow footpath, such as woodsmen take, and turned into it to see if it led to any habitation. As he went along there were rocks and deep ravines. Little by little, as he advanced farther, the scene changed and seemed to become strangely transfigured. The farther he went the more wonderful it became. After he had gone some miles, he discovered himself to be in another world entirely, no longer a world of earth and dust. He saw someone coming toward him dressed in ethereal green, mounted and carrying a shade, with servants accompanying. He seemed to sweep toward him with swiftness and without effort. He thought to himself, “Here is some high lord or other coming to meet me, but,” he added, “how among these deeps and solitudes could a gentleman come riding so?” He led his horse aside and tried to withdraw into one of the groves by the side of the way, but before he could think to turn the man had reached him. The mysterious stranger lifted his two hands in salutation and inquired respectfully as to how he had been all this time. The master was speechless, and so astonished that he could make no reply. But the stranger smilingly said, “My house is quite near here; come with me and rest.”

  He turned and, leading the way, seemed to glide and not to walk, while the master followed. At last they reached the place indicated. He suddenly saw before him great palace halls filling whole squares of space. Beautiful buildings they were, richly ornamented. Attendants in official robes awaited them before the door. They bowed to the master and led him into the hall. After passing a number of gorgeous, palace-like rooms, he arrived at a special one and ascended to the upper story, where he met a very wonderful person. He was dressed in shining garments, and the servants that waited on him were exceedingly fair. There were, too, children about, so exquisitely beautiful that it seemed none other than a celestial palace. The master, alarmed at finding himself in such a place, hurried forward and made a low obeisance, not daring to lift his eyes. But the host smiled upon him, raised his hands, and asked, “Do you not know me? Look now.” Lifting his eyes, he then saw that it was the same person who had come riding out to meet him, but he could not tell who he was. “I see you,” said he, “but as to who you are I cannot tell.” The kingly host then said, “I am Jang Doryeong. Do you not know me?” Then, as the master looked more closely at him, he could see the same features. The outlines of the face were there, but all the imperfections had gone, and only beauty remained. So wonderful was it that he was quite overcome.

  A great feast was prepared, and the honored guest was entertained. Such food, too, was placed before him as was never seen on earth. Angelic beings played on beautiful instruments and danced as no mortal eye ever looked upon. Their faces, too, were like pearls and precious stones.

  Jang Doryeong said to his guest, “There are four famous mountains in Korea in which the genii reside. This hill is one. In days gone by, for a fault of mine, I was exiled to earth, and in the time of my exile you treated me with marked kindness, a favor that I have never forgotten. When you saw my dead body your pity went out to me; this, too, I remember. I was not dead then, it was simply that my days of exile were ended and I was returning home. I knew that you were passing this hill, and I desired to meet you and thank you for all your kindness. Your treatment of me in another world is sufficient to bring about our meeting in this one.” And so they met and feasted in joy and great delight.

  When night came he was escorted to a special pavilion, where he was to sleep. The windows were made of jade and precious stones, and soft lights came streaming through them so that there was no night. “My body was so rested and my soul so refreshed,” said he, “that I felt no need of sleep.”

  When the day dawned a new feast was spread, and then farewells were spoken. Jang said, “This is not a place for you to stay long in; you must go. The ways differ of we genii and you men of the world. It will be difficult for us ever to meet again. Take good care of yourself and go in peace.” He then called a servant to accompany him and show the way. The master made a low bow and withdrew. When he had gone but a short distance, he suddenly found himself in the old world with its dusty accompaniments. The path by which he came out was not the way by which he had entered. In order to mark the entrance he planted a stake, and then the servant withdrew and disappeared.

  The year following the master went again and tried to find the citadel of the genii, but there were only mountain peaks and impassable ravines, and where it was he never could discover.

  As the years went by the master seemed to grow younger in spirit, and at last at the age of ninety he passed away without suffering. “When Jang was here on earth and I saw him for fifteen years,” said the master, “I remember but one peculiarity about him, namely, that his face never grew older nor did his dirty clothing ever wear out. He never changed his garb, and yet it never varied in appearance in all the fifteen years. This alone would have marked him as a strange being, but our fleshly eyes did not recognize it.”

  YUN SE-PYEONG, THE WIZARD

  Yun Se-Pyeong was a military man who rose to the rank of minister in the days of King Jungjong. It seems that Yun learned the doctrine of magic from a passing stranger whom he met on his way to Peking in company with the envoy. When at home he lived in a separate house, quite apart from the other members of his family. He was a man so greatly feared that even his wife and children dared not approach him. What he did in secret no one seemed to know. In winter he was seen to put iron cleats under each arm and change them frequently, and when they were put off they seemed to be red-hot.

  At the same time there was a magician in Korea called Jeon U-chi who used to go about Seoul plying his craft. So skillful was he that he could even simulate the form of the master of a house and go freely into the women’s quarters. On this account he was greatly feared and detested. Yun heard of him on more than one occasion and was determined to rid the earth of him. Jeon heard also of Yun and gave him a wide berth, never appearing in his presence. He used frequently to say, “I am a magician only; Yun is a God.”

  On a certain day Jeon informed his wife that Yun would come that afternoon and try to kill him, “and so,” said he, “I shall change my shape in order to escape his clutches. If any one comes asking for me, just say that I am not at home.” He then metamorphosed himself into a beetle and crawled under a crock that stood overturned in the courtyard.

  When evening began to fall, a young woman came to Jeon’s house, a very beaut
iful woman, too, and asked, “Is the master Jeon at home?”

  The wife replied, “He has just gone out.”

  The woman laughingly said, “Master Jeon and I have been special friends for a long time, and I have an appointment with him today. Please say to him that I have come.”

  Jeon’s wife, seeing a pretty woman come thus and ask for her husband in such a familiar way, flew into a rage and said, “The rascal has evidently a second wife that he has never told me of. What he said just now is all false,” so she went out in a fury and smashed the crock with a club. When the crock was broken, there was the beetle underneath it. Then, the woman who had called suddenly changed into a bee and flew at and stung the beetle. Jeon, metamorphosed into his accustomed form, fell over and died, and the bee flew away.

  THE LITERARY MAN OF IMSIL

  In the year 1654 there was a man of letters living in Imsil who claimed that he could control spirits and that two demon guards were constantly at his bidding. One day he was sitting with a friend playing chess when they agreed that the loser in each case was to pay a fine in drink. The friend lost and yet refused to pay his wager, so that the master said, “If you do not pay up I’ll make it hot for you.” The man, however, refused, till at last the master, exasperated, turned his back upon him and called out suddenly into the upper air some formula or other, as if he were giving a command. The man dashed off through the courtyard to make his escape, but an unseen hand bared his body and administered to him such a set of sounding blows that they left blue, seamy marks. Unable to bear the pain of it longer, he yielded, and then the master laughed and let him go.

  At another time he was seated with a friend while in the adjoining village a shaman gut (exorcising ceremony) was in progress, with drums and gongs banging furiously. The master suddenly rushed out to the bamboo grove that stood behind the official yamen, and, looking very angry and with glaring eyes, he shouted and made bare his arm as if to drive off the furies. After a time, he ceased. The friend, thinking this a peculiar performance, asked what it meant. His reply was, “A crowd of devils has come from the gut and is congregating in the grove of bamboos; if I do not drive them off, trouble will follow in the town, and for that cause I shouted.”

  Again he was making a journey with a certain friend when, suddenly, on the way, he called out to the midair, saying, “Let her go, let her go, I say, or I’ll have you punished severely.”

  His appearance was so peculiar and threatening that the friend asked the cause. For the time being he gave no answer, and they simply went on their way.

  That night they entered a village where they wished to sleep, but the owner of the house said that they had sickness and asked them to go. They insisted, however, till he at last sent a servant to drive them off. Meanwhile the womenfolk watched the affair through the chinks of the window, and they talked in startled whispers, so that the scholar overheard them.

  A few minutes later the man of the house followed in the most humble and abject manner, asking them to return and accept entertainment and lodging at his house. Said he, “I have a daughter, sir, and she fell ill this very day and died, and after some time came to life again. Said she, ‘A devil caught me and carried my soul off down the main roadway, where we met a man, who stopped us and in fierce tones drove off the spirit, who let me go, and so I returned to life.’ She looked out on your Excellency through the chink of the window, and, behold, you are the man. I am at my wits’ end to know what to say to you. Are you a genii or are you a Buddhist, so marvelously to bring back the dead to life? I offer this small refreshment; please accept.”

  The scholar laughed and said, “Nonsense! Just a woman’s haverings. How could I do such things?” He lived for seven or eight years more and died.

  THE MAN ON THE ROAD

  In the Manchu War of 1636, the people of Seoul rushed off in crowds to make their escape. One party of them came suddenly upon a great force of the enemy, armed and mounted. The hills and valleys seemed full of them, and there was no possible way of escape. What to do they knew not. In the midst of their perplexity they suddenly saw someone sitting peacefully in the main roadway just in front, underneath a pine tree, quite unconcerned. He had dismounted from his horse, which a servant held, standing close by. A screen of several yards of cotton cloth was hanging up just before him, as if to shield him from the dust of the passing army.

  The people who were making their escape came up to this stranger and said imploringly, “We are all doomed to die. What shall we do?”

  The mysterious stranger said, “Why should you die? And why are you so frightened? Sit down by me and see the barbarians go by.”

  The people, perceiving his mind so composed and his appearance devoid of fear, and they having no way of escape, did as he bade them and sat down.

  The cavalry of the enemy moved by in great numbers, killing everyone they met, not a single person escaping; but when they reached the place where the magician sat, they went by without, apparently, seeing anything. Thus they continued till the evening, when all had passed by. The stranger and the people with him sat the day through without any harm overtaking them, even though they were in the midst of the enemy’s camp, as it were.

  At last awaking to the fact that he was possessor of some wonderful magic, they all with one accord came and bowed before him, asking his name and his place of residence. He made no answer, however, but mounted his beautiful horse and rode swiftly away, no one being able to overtake him.

  The day following the party fell in with a man who had been captured but had made his escape. They asked if he had seen anything special the day before. He said, “When I followed the barbarian army, passing such and such a point,” indicating the place where the magician had sat with the people, “we skirted great walls and precipitous rocks, against which no one could move, and so we passed by.”

  Thus were the few yards of cotton cloth metamorphosed before the eyes of the passersby.

  THE MAN WHO BECAME A PIG

  A certain Minister of State called Kim Yu, living in the County of Seungpyeong, had a relative who resided in a far-distant part of the country, an old man aged nearly one hundred. On a certain day a son of this patriarch came to the office of the Minister and asked to see him. Kim ordered him to be admitted and inquired as to why he had come. Said he, “I have something very important to say, a private matter to lay before your Excellency. There are so many guests with you now that I’ll come again in the evening and tell it.”

  In the evening, when all had departed, he came, and the Minister ordered out his personal retainers and asked the meaning of the call. The man replied, saying, “My father, though very old, was, as you perhaps know, a strong and hearty man. On a certain day he called us children to him and said, ‘I wish to have a siesta, so now close the door and all of you go out of the room. Do not let anyone venture in till I call you.’

  “We children agreed, of course, and did so. Till late at night there was neither call nor command to open the door, so that we began to be anxious. We at last looked through the chink, and lo, there was our father changed into a huge pig! Terrified by the sight of it, we opened the door and looked in, when the animal grunted and growled and made a rush to get out past us. We hurriedly closed the door again and held a consultation.

  “Some said, ‘Let’s keep the pig just as it is, within doors, and care for it.’ Some said, ‘Let’s have a funeral and bury it.’ We are ignorant countryfolk, not knowing just what to do under such peculiar circumstances, and so I have come to ask counsel of your Excellency. Please think over this startling phenomenon and tell us what we ought to do.”

  Prince Kim, hearing this, gave a great start, thought it over for a long time, and at last said, “No such mysterious thing was ever heard of before, and I really don’t know what is best to do under the circumstances, but still, it seems to me that since this metamorphosis has come about, you had better not bury it before death, so give up the funeral idea. Since, too, it is not a human being an
y longer, I do not think it right to keep it in the house. You say that it wants to make its escape, and, as a cave in the woods or hills is its proper abode, I think you had better take it out and let it go free into the trackless depths of some mountainous country, where no foot of man has ever trod.”

  The son accepted this wise counsel and did as the Minister advised, taking it away into the deep mountains and letting it go. Then he donned sackcloth, mourned, buried his father’s clothes for a funeral, and observed the day of metamorphosis as the day of sacrificial ceremony.