The Story of Chang To-ryong

[Taoism has been one of the great religions of Korea. Its main

thought is expressed in the phrase su-sim yon-song, "to correct the

mind and reform the nature"; while Buddhism's is myong-sim kyon-song,

"to enlighten the heart and see the soul."

The desire of all Taoists is "eternal life," chang-saing pul-sa;

that of the Buddhists, to rid oneself of fleshly being. In the Taoist

world of the genii, there are three great divisions: the upper genii,

who live with God; the midway genii, who have to do with the world

of angels and spirits; and the lower genii, who rule in sacred places

on the earth, among the hills, just as we find in the story of Chang

To-ryong.]

In the days of King Chung-jong (A.D. 1507-1526) there lived a beggar

in Seoul, whose face was extremely ugly and always dirty. He was

forty years of age or so, but still wore his hair down his back like

an unmarried boy. He carried a bag over his shoulder, and went about

the streets begging. During the day he went from one part of the city

to the other, visiting each section, and when night came on he would

huddle up beside some one's gate and go to sleep. He was frequently

seen in Chong-no (Bell Street) in company with the servants and

underlings of the rich. They were great friends, he and they, joking

and bantering as they met. He used to say that his name was Chang,

and so they called him Chang To-ryong, To-ryong meaning an unmarried

boy, son of the gentry. At that time the magician Chon U-chi, who

was far-famed for his pride and arrogance, whenever he met Chang, in

passing along the street, would dismount and prostrate himself most

humbly. Not only did he bow, but he seemed to regard Chang with the

greatest of fear, so that he dared not look him in the face. Chang,

sometimes, without even inclining his head, would say, "Well, how

goes it with you, eh?" Chon, with his hands in his sleeves, most

respectfully would reply, "Very well, sir, thank you, very well." He

had fear written on all his features when he faced Chang.

Sometimes, too, when Chon would bow, Chang would refuse to notice him

at all, and go by without a word. Those who saw it were astonished,

and asked Chon the reason. Chon said in reply, "There are only

three spirit-men at present in Cho-sen, of whom the greatest is

Chang To-ryong; the second is Cheung Puk-chang; and the third is Yun

Se-pyong. People of the world do not know it, but I do. Such being

the case, should I not bow before him and show him reverence?"

Those who heard this explanation, knowing that Chon 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 Chang frequently going about begging, and one day he called him

and asked who he was, and why he begged. Chang made answer, "I was

originally of a cultured family of Chulla Province, 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 a scholar,

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 Chang in and have him share it.

On a certain day when the master was on his way to 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 Chang To-ryong. 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 Chang? 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 South Chulla Province. As he was passing Chi-i Mountain, 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 woodmen 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 some one 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. Before the

door attendants in official robes awaited them. 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 storey, 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 Chang To-ryong. 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 honoured 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.

Chang To-ryong 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 favour 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 to 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. Chang 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

Chang 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."

Im Bang.