Korea, the most haunted place on Earth

In the late 19th century, traveling at night in Korea — especially in lonely stretches of mountain roads — could challenge the courage of even the bravest man. Bandits roamed the countryside, preying upon lone travelers and often stealing not only their money and valuables, but also their lives. However, men, no matter how dark their hearts, were not the most dangerous creatures a traveler might encounter.

The earthly monarchs of the night were the tigers. According to one early Western visitor, when traveling with a group of Koreans, the unsuspecting foreigner was placed in the rear of the party — ostensibly as an act of protection for their valued guest. This privileged position, however, was actually the most dangerous. Korean tigers were prone to stalk parties of travelers from behind, suddenly attacking and making a meal of the last person in line. Our Western expert playfully noted that he “generally took pretty good care to retain a middle position in the procession, when out on a country prowl, greatly to the distress and uneasiness of my white-robed guardian angels.”

In the 1890s, wolves were also a dire threat in the darkness, but usually not to adults. Wolves often lay in wait near outhouses, awaiting an unwary child or small woman caught up in the urgent need to answer Mother Nature. The attacks were sudden and deadly. Sometimes a pool of blood testified as to the prey’s fate; other times, there was no trace. The victim simply disappeared, as if they were a ghost.

There were ghosts in the darkness — and, even more alarmingly, in the bright sunlight. According to George Heber Jones, an American missionary, many Koreans believed that demons and spirits populated every space, whether empty or occupied. “They haunt every umbrageous tree, shady ravine, spring and mountain crest. On green hill slopes, in peaceful agricultural valleys, in grassy dells, on wooded uplands, by lake and stream, by road and river, in north, south, east, and west they abound, making malignant sport out of human destinies.”

When a traveler left the perceived safety of his home, he was tormented by hordes of malevolent spirits. They were “beside him, behind him, dancing in front of him, whirring over his head, crying out upon him from air, earth, and water.” They were relentless.

Ancient trees were frequently encountered, sometimes near the entrances of villages, at other times near treacherous spots along the road. The branches of these sacred trees were cluttered with small offerings — pieces of paper, rags, clothing, coins, locks of hair and human effigies. Hanging from straw ropes were small bags filled with rotting morsels of food, the reek contributing to the almost mystical gloominess of the location. Each gift represented a different bribe: a plea for safe passage, the desperate want of a child, protection from the feral creatures of the wilderness or a distraction from unwanted attention. Whether these requests were granted depended upon the whimsical nature of the trees’ resident spirits.

It is unsurprising that some people chose not to leave their homes — especially on certain inauspicious days.

The 16th day of the first lunar month was known as Magpie Day. According to folk tales, if people left their homes to work, these brash, fearless birds would peck at and spoil their valuable cotton — a reasonable excuse to make it a day of rest. However, the day was also known as the Day of Ghosts. Some people believed that if they left the sanctuary of their homes, ghosts would follow and rain misfortune upon them.

The protection offered by staying home was dubious. “Every Korean home is subject to demons, here, there and everywhere,” explained Jones. They were present in every room — even within the foulness of the outhouse. Perched upon every shelf and peering out from every jar, they observed everything, night and day — often finding fault.

“They touch the Korean at every point in life, making his well-being depend on a continual series of acts of propitiation, and they avenge every omission with merciless severity, keeping him under this yoke of bondage from birth to death.”

Yet, despite the pervasiveness of these nefarious spirits, they had vulnerabilities — sometimes in the form of common items, such as sieves, whose holes could distract an evil being long enough for its victim to escape. Chickens, despite being small and weak, possessed the power to dispel these supernatural threats.

Once, when traveling at night through the countryside with a number of his Korean servants, Jones was startled by the loud crow of a rooster in the distance. His men, however, breathed “sighs of relief and murmured their gratitude.” When he asked why they suddenly felt so emboldened, they explained that “evil demons cannot travel after cockcrow, so they felt safe then.”

Dogs provided not only protection from thieves — and, to a lesser degree, tigers — but some also protected the house from evil spirits. A shaggy Korean dog breed was renowned for its supernatural abilities. Its name, “sapsal,” combines the Chinese characters for “drive away” and “bad luck or misfortune,” and it gained a reputation for its role as a protector.

Cats, on the other hand, were viewed in a negative light. They were often associated with evil and misfortune. In 1887, an American religious magazine published a list of superstitions gleaned through Korean interviews. Among them was an abhorrent fear of a cat approaching a dead person. According to the interviewer, “If such an accident happens the corpse will stand upright and the body has to be knocked down with a broom.”

It seems somewhat ironic, as cats were also used as protection against cholera — whose fearful symptoms were likened to rats eating their way up through a person’s legs.

Jones felt the belief in ghosts and demons “keeps the Korean in a perpetual state of nervous apprehension, it surrounds him with indefinite terrors, and it may be truly said of him that he ‘passes the time of his sojourning here in fear.’” It is a strange, almost condescending statement from a missionary whose own beliefs centered on demons and angels and who claimed to have witnessed an exorcism in Korea.

Even by his own accounts, Korea was the most haunted place on earth — or at least it was in the 19th century.

My appreciation to Diane Nars for her invaluable assistance.