Walking in the footsteps of the past: Tooth and stone

Wooden paths and steps provide easy access to the valley but there are a lot of steps. Robert Neff Collection

By Robert Neff

Even within the bustling confines of Seoul, history and natural beauty are easily accessible to those who are willing to go off the beaten path. One such place is Suseongdong Valley ― to the west of Gyeongbok Palace. This region has long been a favorite hiking spot for foreign visitors to Seoul such as Arnold Henry Savage Landor, an English artist and writer who visited the valley in early 1891.

Landor's accounts of Korea are interesting but at times suspicious. He wrote authoritatively about the country even though he only spent a couple of months on the peninsula and so it is only natural to wonder how he came by all his knowledge. He did not read or speak Korean, there were relatively few books about Korea written in English and the population of Westerners in Seoul was extremely small ― most of them having arrived within the previous five years.

According to Landor, the general Korean population believed that the mountains and hills were haunted by nefarious spirits. Landor speculated that these wandering malevolent spirits were tethered to the region in which their graves were located ― the hills and mountains being the primary locations for graves ― and did so until they could begin a "fresh career" in the bodies of animals or unsuspecting humans.

"No Corean, of sound mind and body, however brave and fearless of death in battle, can ever be induced to walk out at night on the mountain-slopes; and even in the day-time a great deal of uneasiness is manifested by the natives should they have to climb a hill," Landor declared.

A signboard describes the valley and the nearby stone bridge. Robert Neff Collection

Apparently a large sum of money was used to induce at least one man to jeopardize his life to serve as Landor's guide. Perhaps it was from him that the Englishman learned of the proper precautions to take when trekking in Korean mountains.

Girin Bridge no longer provides travelers with a means of traversing the gorge but it does offer a wonderful view. Robert Neff Collection

Steps and steps and steps Robert Neff Collection

Whenever a Korean traveler was forced to enter the mountains they equipped themselves with armfuls of stones. Whenever a strange sound was heard, a shadow moved for no explainable reason or, if there was a heaviness in the air, the traveler violently hurled one of the stones "at these "imaginary beings, thus showing them that their company is neither required nor wished for, and that they had better keep aloof." It was a simple but effective precaution ― and, judging from our Englishman's account, it explained why mounds of stones are occasionally found near the walking paths.

"The hills close to the town are simply covered with heaps of stones, so thrown at these mythical dwellers of the mountains. Such is the effect produced by terror on the people's imagination, that frequently in their imagination they feel the actual touch in those cases, it is only a leaf or a twig falling from a tree. Still, when that occurs a regular fight ensues, the men continuing to fire stones at their imaginary foes, until in their mental vision they see them disappear and fade away in the air. Others not so brave prefer an accelerated retreat, only stopping now and again to throw a stone at the pursuers."

Sometimes stones were not enough to repel the denizens of the darkness, so there were also sacred trees.

"These are to be found everywhere, but especially on hilly ground. Their branches are literally covered with rags, bits of glass, and other offerings given by the superstitious and frightened passers-by, lest these spirits might take offense at not being noticed."

Those who traveled frequently through the hills and mountains always brought along a large amount of rags and other small offerings, but when the path was extremely dangerous and the sacred trees grew in greater numbers than expected, women sometimes tore bits and pieces off their silk gowns and attached them "to a branch of the tree among the other donations."

A stone turtle peers down at the handful of coins ― perhaps offerings by those who can afford more than just pieces of cloth and broken glass. Robert Neff Collection

While Landor devoted a good deal of ink to amuse his readers with the absurdity of evil spirits in the desolate mountains and hills, he devoted very little to the true terrors of the mountains and especially Suseongdong Valley ― tigers. This region was infamous for the great cats, and their predations upon travelers became so bad that the military had to serve as escorts.

While the valley had the dubious honor of being acquainted with ferocious creatures with long teeth, it also reportedly had the ability to ease the misery of those with bad teeth. It isn't clear how Landor learned of this sacred site ― "a peculiar rock, which the action of the weather has worn out into the shape of a gigantic tooth" ― but one fine afternoon, despite not having a toothache, he and his guide set out to see it.

Tigers once laired here and raised their young. Robert Neff Collection

He was not impressed:

"A little altar stands at the foot of the huge tooth, and numberless tablets, certifying to cures, erected by thankful noble visitors and others, are fixed against the rock, with the name, date and year when the cures were effected."

But he was amused by the crowds of people "with swollen cheeks" who traveled up the mountain ― braving the dangers and the cold ― in search of relief from "the excruciating agonies" of their dental nightmares.

Toad Stone juts out into the path but it is not the stone I was looking for. Robert Neff Collection

"One after the other they came up, first paying their chin-chins in front of the altar, and then depositing on it what cash they could afford; after which they proceeded to rub one cheek after the other on the Tooth-stone, just as [a pet cat] rubs herself against your legs when you stroke her head. The bandages had, of course, to be removed before the balloon-like cheek could be rubbed on the frozen stone, and to watch the different expressions of relief or increased pain upon their ill-balanced, inflamed faces, gave me as much amusement as any show that I have ever witnessed. Should the pain have temporarily disappeared, the man in charge of the miracle would make it his duty to try and extract more money from the person cured; if, instead of that, the pain had increased, which was generally the case, then, again, he would impress on the [agonized] sufferer that had he paid a large sum, in the beginning, the gods would not have been vexed at his meanness and the pain would have disappeared. Let him, therefore, now pay more cash by way of making up for it, and try again!"

Aptly named, Stone Tooth no longer has the prestige it apparently enjoyed in the 1890s ― perhaps it was a victim of modern dentistry. Robert Neff Collection

Landor summed it up as being a wonderful spectacle and noted that people are all shallow when they have pain anywhere. His account is amusing, but was it true? Not too long ago I went in search of this wonderful stone ― not because I had a toothache but because my curiosity needed to be sated.

I accomplished my task and left the valley with sore legs and a greater appreciation for Seoul's beauty and Landor's accounts ― no matter how exaggerated they may seem.

No altar at its feet, just more stairs Robert Neff Collection

Even the city wall could not keep tigers ― the monarchs of the mountains ― out of the capital city. Robert Neff Collection

Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books, including Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.