Note: This article has been excerpted from a larger work in the public domain and shared here due to its historical value. It may contain outdated ideas and language that do not reflect TOTA’s opinions and beliefs.
"Religion and Superstition" from The Passing of Korea by Homer Hulbert, 1906.
There are two orders of spirits, those which have an unknown but extra-human origin and those which represent the souls of the deceased. The various elves that haunt the spring, the rock, the tree, the cave or the river are nature-gods, pure and simple, and have little to do with human destiny, except as they are sacrificed to and asked to give good luck. They represent the good fairies and are not propitiated, but simply asked to give blessing or help. The spirits of disease and disaster are commonly considered nature-gods as well, and not of human origin. They require to be propitiated or else exorcised, which ceremony it is the office of the mudang or pansu to perform. These spirits all go under the name kwisin or kweesin. But there is another class, called tokgabi, which correspond to the malignant imps of our own folk-lore. They are always up to pranks, and in mischief they find their greatest delight. They fly about the kitchen and knock over the kettles and pans; they seize the goodman by the top-knot and cut it off and fly away; they make the kettle cover fall into the kettle.
All these and a long list of other tricks they play about the house. They like company, and will not go away and live in a desert place by themselves. If a miser has buried some money, they may watch the place and haunt it, so that no one else will dare to live there, though the imps themselves can get no good from the money. But the most malignant spirits of all are the disembodied souls of those men who have met a violent death or who have been grievously wronged and have died without obtaining revenge.
Ordinarily these are supposed to have been good people while they were living, and their present deplorable state is not a punishment for past misdeeds, but they are in somewhat the same condition that the ancient Greek thought the soul of the unburied was in. There is something that must be done before the spirit can get rest; it must be "laid." The spirit seems to think that it must vex and trouble people until they effect this. There are thousands of spirits who are just waiting for someone to do them an injury, so that they may have an opportunity to play their pranks upon him. The person who succeeds in steering clear of all these traps and pitfalls cannot become the object of their persecution.
It is important to note that while these shadowy beings have some powers that are distinctly superhuman, in other points they are less than human. Almost invariably, in the Korean story, the fiend is thwarted by the word of a just man. Him they not only fear, but must obey. But we must pause and give a few special names and characteristics of the Korean gods, beginning with those of the highest grade.
Besides Hananim, who is quite separate and remote from all others, even as Allah was distinct from the gnomes and naiads of the Arabian Nights, the Koreans believe in the Five Point Generals. These are supposed to rule the five divisions of the visible firmament, North, East, South, West and Centre. It is to these that the pansus, or blind exorcists, pray and offer sacrifice in order to gain the upper hand of evil spirits. Each of these five great gods has a host of lieutenants, nearly one hundred thousand in all, and it is to these that the pansu looks for active help. These five generals are frequently taken as village gods, and the curiously carved posts which are so often found at the entrance of a Korean country town, and which have erroneously been called guide-posts, are representations of these gods, which stand as guardians against the entrance of wicked spirits.
Then come the earth spirits, the ones which make the Koreans so reluctant to dig in the earth for minerals. They think the spirits will consider themselves robbed and so exact a penalty. It may be that it is for this reason that miners are looked down upon as practical outcasts by the people. These spirits must be consulted every time a grave is to be dug, for if a mistake should be made the dead man's descendants might wake up some morning to find that the grave is empty and the body has been spirited away, to their everlasting disgrace. Houses must be built only on spots where the spirits allow, and more than one house has had to be pulled down and erected on some other site because of the terrible misfortunes the imps have inflicted and are ready to inflict because their toes have been trodden upon.
Often the traveller will come across a heap of small stones beside the road and a stunted tree on which are hung rags, locks of hair, strips of coloured cloth, pieces of money and a great variety of useless articles. Such a place may be found in the plains, but it is much more likely to be near the top of a pass between two valleys. These sacred places are not dedicated to any particular spirit, but to any or all the local deities. The traveller picks up a stone and throws it on the pile. This is his prayer for success in his journey. If he has reason to fear that the "good-fortune snake" is not propitious, he will spit on the stone pile.
A man who is going to the neighbouring market with his bundle of wares to sell may stop and tie a one-cash piece to the branch of the tree "just for luck." It is an offering to the spirit, and is a request for financial success. A woman from the village below may come up the hill with a bowl of rice and a little honey and set the food down on a stone and shuffle her hands together, bending low the while. She is asking that her son come home betimes from his fishing trip, or that her child may recover speedily from the disease which has seized upon it. A bride may cut off a shred of her skirt and tie it to the tree to prevent the good spirits of her father's house following her to her new abode and deserting the dwelling of her parent.
As the name of these spirits is legion, so the names of the different shrines where they are worshipped would make a long catalogue. There is the "Boulder Hall," erected to the spirit of some particular rock; the "Buddha's Hall," a sort of cross between Buddhism and fetichism; "Ursa Major Hall," to the spirit of that constellation; the "Kyung Hall," referring to the Buddhist sutras; the "Wall and Moat Hall," a common name for the place where there is a pile of stones or a tree to tie fetiches to; the "Old Man Hall," in honour of the Old Man Star, which Koreans believe can be seen in the south only by the people who live on the island of Quelpart; the "Grandmother Hall," "Kingdom Teacher Hall," "Dragon Spirit Hall" and many others.
There are also what the Koreans call the mountain spirits. They are most like our angels of any of the Korean supernatural beings, but they are almost always represented as venerable men with long white beards. They live among the inaccessible peaks of the mountains and always in a state of bliss. Happy is the man who chances to catch sight of one of them. If a man lives an exemplary life, he may become a sin-sun and join this happy band among the hills, and many are the tales Koreans tell of the wonderful adventures of good boys among the haunts of these immortals. One of these is so like the story of Rip Van Winkle that we must give it space.
Paksuni was a wood-gatherer by profession, and his wife was a termagant. So long as he earned a day's wages he did not worry, but the woman was always scolding because he did not earn more, and raising a great disturbance whenever he happened to miss a day. One morning he took his jiggy on his back and started up the mountain-side to gather fagots as usual. It was very warm, and he sat down in the shade of a tree to cool off. What more natural than that he should doze off, and presently see through sleepy lids two venerable men approach, one carrying a chess-board and the other the bag of chess-pieces. They sat down beneath the shade and began the game, never deigning a glance in his direction. He watched the game as it proceeded with absorbing interest. It was the very best game of chess he had ever seen played. Finally one of the old men made a move and exclaimed, "Chang" (check). It was the first word that had been spoken, and it brought him to his feet.
The old gentlemen disappeared like a flash, and left him looking about in vain for his axe and jiggy. The latter was gone, and nothing of the former remained but a rusty shred of iron. His clothes were in rags, and his beard had grown to his waist. He tottered down the mountain-side and entered the village. It all seemed changed. The faces looked unfamiliar. He stopped a man and asked if he could tell where a fellow named Paksuni lived. The man stared and answered that Paksuni had been lost for thirty years. He had wandered among the hills and had been eaten up by tigers.
Just then an old woman came along to get some water from the well and stopped to listen. The bewildered fellow announced that he himself was Paksuni; whereupon the old woman dropped her water-jar, seized the tattered remnant of humanity by the top-knot and haled him down the street, calling upon heaven to witness that the lazy rascal had left her for thirty years to shift for herself, and now had the face to come back and show himself. This was so much like old times that Paksuni was happy, knowing that after all he had not gone mad. Those who think that chess is a slow game will find confirmation of their opinion in this tale.
Besides all these there are the village gods, who watch over special localities and to whom the people erect shrines and offer an annual sacrifice. In this every member of the village is interested, and the cost of the ceremony is borne by all.
One is fairly safe in conjecturing that the worship of the dragon is a Chinese innovation. The Koreans are imaginative enough to evolve the idea of a long chain of mountains being the body of an immense dragon, but this idea existed in China long before the Koreans could have evolved it. In fact, among these spirit gods there are some that are identical with those which the Chinese recognise and there are others which are purely native to Korea. There has been such a mixture of all sorts and conditions of ideas in the peninsula that one must speak with many reservations and without the least dogmatism. We know where Confucianism and Buddhism came from, but as for the rest the only thing that we know is that it is here. This dragon plays an important part in the Korean's life, and his influence is always and only good. We could not begin to describe the countless points where this fabled beast comes in contact with the fortunes of the Korean.
Hulbert, Homer B. The Passing of Korea. London: W. Heinemann, 1906.
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