The Story of Chang To-ryong

In the days of King Jungjong, who reigned from 1506 to 1544, there was a beggar in Seoul whose face was terribly ugly and always grimy. He was about forty years old, yet he still wore his hair hanging down his back like an unmarried boy. With a bag slung over his shoulder, he went about the streets begging, wandering from one part of the city to another all day, and when night fell, he curled up beside somebody’s gate and slept. He was often seen in Bell Street, joking and bantering with the servants and errand men of the rich, who were great friends of his. He said his name was Chang, so they called him Chang To-ryong, which means young master Chang, the name for an unmarried son of a gentleman’s family.

In those days there lived a magician named Chon U-chi, famous far and wide for his pride and haughtiness. Yet whenever he met Chang in the street, he would get down from his horse and bow to the ground most humbly. He seemed terribly afraid of Chang and did not dare look him in the face. Sometimes Chang, without so much as nodding, would say, “Well, how are things with you, eh?” And Chon, with his hands tucked respectfully in his sleeves, would answer, “Very well, sir, thank you, very well,” with fear written all over his face. Other times, when Chon bowed, Chang would ignore him completely and walk past without a word.

People who saw this were amazed and asked Chon why he did it. “There are only three spirit-men in Korea today,” Chon told them. “The greatest is Chang To-ryong, the second is Cheung Puk-chang and the third is Yun Se-pyong. The people of the world don’t know it, but I do. So shouldn’t I bow to him and show him respect?” But since everyone knew Chon was a strange fellow himself, they paid no attention.

At that time there was a young scholar holding a government post whose house stood right on the street. He often saw Chang going about begging, and one day he called him over and asked who he was and why he begged. Chang answered, “I come from an educated family in Jeolla Province, but my parents died of a fever, and I had no brothers or relatives left. I was the last of my whole clan, and with no home of my own, I wandered about begging until at last I came to Seoul. I have no trade, and I can’t read Chinese writing, so what else can I do?” Hearing that he came from a family of scholars, the young man felt very sorry for him and gave him food and drink. After that, whenever there was a special celebration at his house, he invited Chang in to share it.

One day, as the scholar was riding to his office, he saw a body being carried on a stretcher toward the Water Gate. Looking closely from his horse, he recognized it as Chang To-ryong. He was so sad that he turned back home and wept. “There are plenty of poor, wretched people in the world,” he said, “but who ever saw anyone as wretched as poor Chang? By my count he begged in Bell Street for fifteen years, and now he leaves the city a dead man.”

More than twenty years later, the scholar had to travel through South Jeolla Province. As he passed Jiri Mountain, he lost his way and found himself in a maze of hills. The day was fading, and he could go neither back nor forward. Then he noticed a narrow footpath like the ones woodcutters use and turned down it to see if it led to a house. There were rocks and deep ravines along the way, but little by little, as he went on, the scenery changed and seemed strangely transformed, and the farther he went, the more wonderful it grew. After some miles he found himself in another world altogether, no longer a world of earth and dust.

He saw someone coming toward him dressed in shimmering green, riding a horse and shaded by a parasol, with servants around him, sweeping toward him swiftly and without effort. “This must be some great lord coming to meet me,” he thought. “But how could a gentleman come riding like this in these wild, lonely hills?”

He led his horse to one side, meaning to step back into a grove beside the path, but before he could turn, the rider was upon him. The mysterious stranger raised both hands in greeting and asked politely how he had been all this time. The scholar was so astonished that he could not say a word, but the stranger smiled and said, “My house is quite near. Come and rest.”

The stranger led the way, seeming to glide rather than walk, and the scholar followed until suddenly great palace halls rose before him, covering whole squares of ground, beautiful buildings richly decorated. Attendants in official robes waited at the door. They bowed to him and led him inside, through one splendid room after another, until they came to a special hall and climbed to the upper floor. There he met a most wonderful person dressed in shining robes, waited on by servants of great beauty, with children about so lovely that it seemed like a palace of heaven. Alarmed to find himself in such a place, the scholar hurried forward and bowed low, not daring to raise his eyes. But his host smiled, lifted his hands and said, “Don’t you know me? Look.”

Raising his eyes, the scholar saw that it was the same person who had ridden out to meet him, but he still could not tell who he was. “I see you,” he said, “but I can’t say who you are.”

“I am Chang To-ryong,” said his royal host. “Don’t you know me?” Then, looking more closely, the scholar could see the same features. The shape of the face was there, but every flaw had vanished and only beauty remained. It was so wonderful that he was quite overcome.

A great feast was laid out for the honored guest, with food such as had never been seen on earth. Heavenly beings with faces like pearls and precious stones played beautiful music and danced as no mortal eye had ever seen.

Chang To-ryong said to his guest, “There are four famous mountains in Korea where the immortals live, and this is one of them. Long ago, for a fault of mine, I was sent down to live on earth for a time, and while I was there, you were very kind to me. I have never forgotten it. When you saw my body, your heart went out to me, and I remember that too. I was not really dead then; my time of exile had simply ended, and I was going home. I knew you would pass this mountain, and I wanted to meet you and thank you for all your kindness. The way you treated me in the other world was reason enough for us to meet in this one.” So they feasted together in great joy.

When night came, the scholar was shown to a pavilion of his own to sleep in. Its windows were made of jade and precious stones, and soft light streamed through them so that it never grew dark. “My body was so rested and my spirit so refreshed,” he said afterward, “that I felt no need to sleep.”

At dawn another feast was spread, and then it was time to say goodbye. “This is not a place where you can stay long,” said Chang. “You must go. The ways of us immortals are different from the ways of people in the world, and it will be hard for us ever to meet like this a second time. Take good care of yourself and go in peace.” He called a servant to go with the scholar and show him the way. The scholar bowed low and left, and when he had gone only a short distance, he suddenly found himself back in the ordinary, dusty world. The path he came out by was not the one he had gone in by, so he planted a stake to mark the spot, and the servant turned back and vanished.

The next year the scholar went looking for the city of the immortals, but there were only mountain peaks and impassable ravines, and he could not find the place.

As the years passed, he seemed to grow younger in spirit, and at the age of ninety he died peacefully, without any pain. “When Chang was here on earth and I saw him over fifteen years,” the scholar used to say, “there was only one odd thing I noticed about him: his face never grew any older, and his dirty clothes never wore out. He never changed them, yet they looked just the same for fifteen years. That alone should have told us he was no ordinary being, but our earthly eyes could not see it.”

About this story

“The Story of Chang To-ryong” is retold from Korean Folk Tales: Imps, Ghosts and Fairies (1913), James Scarth Gale’s translation of stories collected by the Korean writers Im Bang and Yi Ryuk. This one is by Im Bang, who lived from 1640 to 1724.

In a short note before the story, Gale explains that it comes from Taoist belief, in which immortal beings called genii, or sinseon, live in sacred mountains, and one may be sent down to earth for a time as a punishment. The story associates Jiri Mountain with a hidden dwelling of immortals.

Read the original: Korean Folk Tales: Imps, Ghosts and Fairies (Project Gutenberg)

Best for all ages — a kind official feeds a ragged beggar in Seoul, and years later, lost in the mountains, he learns who the beggar really was.

Two reasons to show respect

Chon bows because he knows Chang has extraordinary powers. The scholar shares food before that revelation, though their shared scholarly background helps awaken his sympathy. Comparing these responses prevents the ending from shrinking kindness into a wager on a stranger’s secret importance. A hungry person need not be an immortal to deserve care.

Chang’s unchanging face and clothes become clues only after the mountain meeting. His splendid appearance then reverses the earlier description of dirt and ugliness; it does not mean that his human-looking poverty made him less worthy.

Return to the first meeting

Write what Chon knows and what the scholar knows when each helps or honours Chang. Then reread the detail about fifteen years passing. Explain how the final revelation changes that detail without changing the value of the earlier meal.

Think about it

• Why do you think the proud magician Chon was so afraid of the beggar?
• How was the scholar rewarded for his kindness?
• What clues showed that Chang was no ordinary beggar?

Related stories

• Yun Se-pyong, the Wizard — another of Korea’s three spirit-men, and the magician Chon U-chi
• The Woodman and the Mountain Fairies — another visit to the immortals of the mountains
• The Soldier of Kang-wha — another tale of hidden magic from Im Bang