The Big Book of Classic Fantasy

by The Big Book of Classic Fantasy (retail) (epub)

  I have spoken both of “sound” and of “voice.” I mean to say that the sound was one of distinct—of even wonderfully, thrillingly distinct—syllabification. M. Valdemar spoke—obviously in reply to the question I had propounded to him a few minutes before. I had asked him, it will be remembered, if he still slept. He now said:

  “Yes;—no;—I have been sleeping—and now—now—I am dead.”

  No person present even affected to deny, or attempted to repress, the unutterable, shuddering horror which these few words, thus uttered, were so well calculated to convey. Mr. L——l (the student) swooned. The nurses immediately left the chamber, and could not be induced to return. My own impressions I would not pretend to render intelligible to the reader. For nearly an hour, we busied ourselves, silently—without the utterance of a word—in endeavors to revive Mr. L——l. When he came to himself, we addressed ourselves again to an investigation of M. Valdemar’s condition.

  It remained in all respects as I have last described it, with the exception that the mirror no longer afforded evidence of respiration. An attempt to draw blood from the arm failed. I should mention, too, that this limb was no farther subject to my will. I endeavored in vain to make it follow the direction of my hand. The only real indication, indeed, of the mesmeric influence, was now found in the vibratory movement of the tongue, whenever I addressed M. Valdemar a question. He seemed to be making an effort to reply, but had no longer sufficient volition. To queries put to him by any other person than myself he seemed utterly insensible—although I endeavored to place each member of the company in mesmeric rapport with him. I believe that I have now related all that is necessary to an understanding of the sleep-waker’s state at this epoch. Other nurses were procured; and at ten o’clock I left the house in company with the two physicians and Mr. L——l.

  In the afternoon we all called again to see the patient. His condition remained precisely the same. We had now some discussion as to the propriety and feasibility of awakening him; but we had little difficulty in agreeing that no good purpose would be served by so doing. It was evident that, so far, death (or what is usually termed death) had been arrested by the mesmeric process. It seemed clear to us all that to awaken M. Valdemar would be merely to insure his instant, or at least his speedy dissolution.

  From this period until the close of last week—an interval of nearly seven months—we continued to make daily calls at M. Valdemar’s house, accompanied, now and then, by medical and other friends. All this time the sleep-waker remained exactly as I have last described him. The nurses’ attentions were continual.

  It was on Friday last that we finally resolved to make the experiment of awakening or attempting to awaken him; and it is the (perhaps) unfortunate result of this latter experiment which has given rise to so much discussion in private circles—to so much of what I cannot help thinking unwarranted popular feeling.

  For the purpose of relieving M. Valdemar from the mesmeric trance, I made use of the customary passes. These, for a time, were unsuccessful. The first indication of revival was afforded by a partial descent of the iris. It was observed, as especially remarkable, that this lowering of the pupil was accompanied by the profuse out-flowing of a yellowish ichor (from beneath the lids) of a pungent and highly offensive odor.

  It was now suggested that I should attempt to influence the patient’s arm, as heretofore. I made the attempt and failed. Dr. F—— then intimated a desire to have me put a question. I did so, as follows:

  “M. Valdemar, can you explain to us what are your feelings or wishes now?”

  There was an instant return of the hectic circles on the cheeks; the tongue quivered, or rather rolled violently in the mouth (although the jaws and lips remained rigid as before) and at length the same hideous voice which I have already described, broke forth:

  “For God’s sake!—quick!—quick!—put me to sleep—or, quick!—waken me!—quick!—I say to you that I am dead!”

  I was thoroughly unnerved, and for an instant remained undecided what to do. At first I made an endeavor to re-compose the patient; but, failing in this through total abeyance of the will, I retraced my steps and as earnestly struggled to awaken him. In this attempt I soon saw that I should be successful—or at least I soon fancied that my success would be complete—and I am sure that all in the room were prepared to see the patient awaken.

  For what really occurred, however, it is quite impossible that any human being could have been prepared.

  As I rapidly made the mesmeric passes, amid ejaculations of “dead! dead!” absolutely bursting from the tongue and not from the lips of the sufferer, his whole frame at once—within the space of a single minute, or even less, shrunk—crumbled—absolutely rotted away beneath my hands. Upon the bed, before that whole company, there lay a nearly liquid mass of loathsome—of detestable putridity.

  “The Story of Jeon Unchi” is a classic of Korean fiction that incorporates the fantastic into the realistic. Unlike many of the moralistic works that came before it, “Jeon Unchi” is an adventure tale replete with action. Although no one knows who wrote the story, it has the characteristics of popular fiction written for commoners in the Korean vernacular script (hangul) that was produced in the late eighteenth and throughout the nineteenth centuries. Inspired by a historical figure with the slightly different name of Jeon Uchi (late fifteenth to early sixteenth century) who was reputed to be a master of the mystical arts, “The Story of Jeon Unchi” is the tale of a rebellious magician and has been adapted to the screen as both a Korean drama and a film. Originally published circa 1847, although even that fact isn’t certain, this is the first time this work has been translated into English.

  The Story of Jeon Unchi

  Anonymous

  Translated by Minsoo Kang

  TOWARD THE END of the Goryeo dynasty,*1 in the southwestern part of the realm, there lived a gentleman scholar whose family name was Jeon, personal name was Suk, and literary name was Unhwa. Although he came from generations of illustrious statesmen, he had no desire to become a government official himself. So he moved into a mountain where he spent his days studying letters with reverence and occasionally gathering his friends to appreciate the mountains and the rivers, the winds and the moon. And so he came to be known by the people as the Mountain Scholar.

  His wife, Lady Choe, was also from a family that produced many high-ranking officials. She was a person of decorous and modest character as well as of beauteous appearance and virtue. The husband and wife treated each other with respect and lived harmoniously together for about ten years, until they came to lament often that they had no child to care for. But then, one day, Lady Choe had a dream in which many clouds descended upon her to reveal in their midst a young boy in blue clothing holding a lotus flower.

  The boy bowed twice before speaking to her. “I was a servant to the immortal spirits of the holy mountain of Yeongju, charged with gathering herbs for my masters. But due to an infraction I committed, I have been exiled to the realm of humans, so I bid you to treat me with affection.”

  Lady Choe, filled with joy, was about to ask the child a question when she suddenly woke from the dream. She happily informed Jeon Suk of her vision.

  Her husband listened to her and replied. “I felt so sad thinking that we would remain childless due to some unfortunate fate. But this dream you had surely means that heaven will bless us with a precious child.”

  So they rejoiced. And sure enough, Lady Choe showed signs of pregnancy that month.

  On a day before the passage of ten months, auspicious clouds surrounded their house and filled the place with a sweet fragrance. Jeon Suk cleaned the place thoroughly and waited for the birth. Lady Choe, disoriented from birth pangs, opened her eyes to see the boy from the dream enter into her. The joy she felt at the vision cleared her thoughts, and she soon gave birth to a wondrous boy. Jeon Suk, filled with happiness, took care of his
wife and examined his son. The boy was of magnificent appearance as well as sturdy spirit.

  Jeon Suk spoke out. “This child was seen in a cloud, so let us give him the name of Unchi, or ‘cloud-sent,’ the formal name of Mongjungseon, or ‘a holy spirit in a dream,’ and the household name of Gusipja.”*2

  Jeon Suk thought Unchi very precious, and his love for him knew no bounds.

  Once Unchi grew up and reached the age of nine, Jeon Suk began to teach him the letters. The boy turned out to be so bright that learning one thing allowed him to understand ten things, which made his father love him even more.

  Unfortunately, after Unchi turned ten, Jeon Suk suddenly fell ill and every medicine proved to be ineffectual. How sad it was! As it has always been the case, a happy event is often followed by a tragic one.

  Jeon Suk summoned his wife and spoke to her. “It won’t be long before I depart for the next world. My greatest regret is that I won’t get to see my child grow up. I bid you to overcome your sorrow and raise Unchi well. I wish you much fortune, and I hope you will properly perform the rituals of reverence for our ancestors. May you live a long life without any illness.”

  His wife could not reply as she shed tears until she fell unconscious.

  When Jeon Suk left this world a few days later, his wife hit herself on the chest and convulsed her entire body as she lamented. Unchi kept fainting as he thought of his father, whom he regarded as high as heaven, and the kindness he had shown him. His mother became concerned, so she consoled him even in midst of her own mourning. Although Unchi was still young, he took great care to perform all the funeral rituals properly as his father was buried at a gravesite on a mountain. He then displayed laudable filial piety in helping his mother and undergoing the three-year mourning period, earning the praise of the people of their village.

  * * *

  —

  Jeon Suk’s friend Yun Gong was a scholar who had mastered the world’s learning so thoroughly that he could see far into the future. So Unchi picked up his books and went to Yun Gong to study under him.

  One day, Unchi got up early and was walking to the school when he came across a woman dressed in mourning clothes, weeping by a forest of thick-leaved bamboo trees. He pretended not to see her and went on to learn the letters with Yun Gong, but on his way back home he saw that she was still crying at the same spot. He became curious, so he approached her. She was about fifteen or sixteen, and her jade-like beauty utterly captivated Unchi.

  Unchi spoke to her in a gentle manner. “Where did you come from, and why are you crying so sadly from morning to the middle of the day?”

  The girl stopped weeping and replied in embarrassment, “I live below this mountain, and I am crying because something terrible has happened to me.”

  She would not reveal the source of her sadness, so Unchi came even closer and earnestly asked her to tell him of her troubles until she finally relented.

  “I am the daughter of Maeng the royal assistant. I lost my mother when I was five years old, and then a stepmother came into our household. She has been telling false tales of my wrongdoing to my father because she wants to see me die. I cry night and day, wondering if I should kill myself, but I cannot bring myself to do it. So there’s nothing I can do but weep.”

  Unchi felt a great pity for her.

  “Heaven alone should decide whether one lives or dies. Think of your body as a precious gift from your parents and find a way to live on.”

  When Unchi took her beauteous hand, she accepted his gesture without hesitation. And so they came together and joyfully shared their affection for each other. When it came time for them to part, they did so with sadness.

  The next day, when Unchi came to the place on his way to Yun Gong, the girl appeared and called out to him. “I have been waiting for my young master for a long time.”

  Unchi took her hand with great joy, and they spent some time together.

  “Wait for me here,” he told her before going off to school.

  When Yun Gong saw Unchi, he spoke to him. “On your way here, you committed an unseemly act with a woman, who is actually a fox demon in disguise. She put a curse on you, so no matter how much you study, you will never fathom the ways of heaven and earth or the harmonious principles of the universe. If you want the curse lifted, go back now and see that woman again. You will find that she is keeping a marble in her mouth. Take that marble away from her and bring it to me.”

  Unchi followed Yun Gong’s order and returned to the place where he had met the girl. When he saw her, he took her hand and led her into the bamboo forest, where they came together again. As they did so, he noticed that she indeed had a marble in her mouth. Unchi asked her to let him see it, but she refused. Unchi made a serious face.

  “You are a maiden from a good family and I am a young bachelor. I thought we should tell our parents about us so that we can be together like a pair of faithful ducks that mate for life and live a hundred years or so in each other’s company. But I suppose that you are not interested in that.”

  Hearing those words, the girl felt overcome with love for Unchi, so she rolled the marble out with her tongue and put it in his mouth. After a while, she asked for it back, but Unchi refused to return it. She pestered him, and then tried to forcibly open his mouth to retrieve it. At that point, Unchi swallowed the marble. She searched inside his mouth, but when she realized that it was gone, she got up without a word and left the forest while wailing in sorrow. Unchi felt ashamed, so he went to Yun Gong and told him the whole story.

  Yun Gong spoke to him. “You have eaten the soul of a fox demon, so you will understand the ways of astrology and geomancy. You will also become the master of seventy-two spiritual powers. I also predict that in the fourth lunar month of this year, you will pass the preliminary civil examination and become a literary licentiate. After that, you must handle yourself carefully.”

  * * *

  —

  At the age of fifteen, Unchi’s literary skills surpassed that of Yi Taebaek*3 and his calligraphy rivaled that of Wang Huiji.*4 After he had eaten the soul of the fox demon, he also became the master of thirty-six magical powers of transformation. The preliminary government civil examination was held at this time, so Unchi submitted his writings to the judges. He not only qualified but also attained first place among the candidates. After he made the rounds of visiting dignitaries and relatives for four days, he returned to his mother, who felt both joyful and sad.

  “When your father was alive, he was averse to taking the civil examinations. But how could I not be happy to see you achieve such a distinction.”

  Time went on, and when it became spring, Unchi set off to tour the great mountains and rivers of the land. He came upon a Buddhist temple called Segeum, where he found the place of about a thousand rooms covered in cobwebs and empty of people, which he thought strange. He then went to another temple named Seongrim, where he met a few old monks.

  When he asked them about Segeum Temple, one of them answered him. “Segeum Temple and Seongrim Temple here used to be the home of about a thousand monks, but four or five years ago something came over the two places, and they couldn’t bear to live there anymore. They all scattered to unknown places, so Segeum Temple is now empty, and Seongrim Temple only has us old monks.”

  “This must be the work of some evil spirit.”

  Unchi returned home and related the story of Segeum Temple to his mother.

  “You must be wary of places like that,” Lady Choe told her son.

  After the conversation, Unchi spent his time farming and taking care of his mother. But then, one day, Unchi told his mother that he would go to Segeum Temple to study for the final civil examination.

  “You told me that the temple has evil spirits that harm people. Why would you go there?”

  “What is evil can never overcome what is righteous, so how could such sp
irits harm me? Please do not worry.”

  He quickly prepared his travel gear and headed for Segeum Temple. On his way, he came to the top of a rough cliff, where he encountered an old man dressed in worn clothing and leaning on a staff.

  When Unchi greeted him politely, the old man spoke to him. “And who might you be, taking the trouble to greet the likes of me in such a polite manner?”

  “How could I carelessly pass by such a senior personage?”

  “I have been waiting here for a long time so that I can give you something.”

  The old man took out of his sleeve some rope and a piece of paper with a talismanic symbol on it.

  “A time will come when you will need to use these.”

  With those words, the old man disappeared. Unchi expressed his gratitude toward the air and proceeded to Segeum Temple. There, he ate dinner prepared for him by the monks of Seongrim Temple and then lit some candles to read. At around the third watch,*5 the door to his room suddenly opened, and a woman walked in to sit next to him. Unchi saw that she was only about fourteen years old but was so beautiful that she evoked the vision of a peony flower with morning dew on its leaves. And her bearing was so exquisite that it suggested willow leaves swaying in a spring breeze. It was enough to melt the heart of the toughest man.

  Unchi felt disoriented with desire as he spoke to her. “Where did you come from, and how did you end up here so late at night?”