P'ungsu: A Study of Geomancy in Korea 1438468695, 9781438468693

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P’ungsu

P’ungsu A Study of Geomancy in Korea

edited by

Hong-key Yoon

Cover art: An old map of Nagan County, Chŏlla Province, drawn in 1872. Photo courtesy of the Kyujanggak Institute for Korean Studies Published by State University of New York Press, Albany © 2017 State University of New York All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission. No part of this book may be stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means including electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior permission in writing of the publisher. For information, contact State University of New York Press, Albany, NY www.sunypress.edu Production, Laurie D. Searl Marketing, Kate R. Seburyamo Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Yoon, Hong-key, editor. Title: P’ungsu : a study of geomancy in Korea / edited [by] Hong-key Yoon. Description: Albany : State University of New York Press, 2017. | Includes   bibliographical references and index. | Description based on print version   record and CIP data provided by publisher; resource not viewed. Identifiers: LCCN 2017013958 (print) | LCCN 2017020840 (ebook) |   ISBN 9781438468716 (ebook) | ISBN 9781438468693 (hardcover : alk. paper) Subjects: LCSH: Feng shui—Korea. | Korea—Social life and customs. Classification: LCC BF1779.F4 (ebook) | LCC BF1779.F4 P84 2017 (print) |  DDC133.3/3309519—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017013958 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

This work was supported by the Academy of Korean Studies Grant funded by the Korean Government (MEST) (AKS-2010-AMZ-2101).

Contents

List of Figures and Tables xiii Acknowledgments xxi PART I

Toward a History of Geomancy in Korea An Overview of Its Development

1 Introduction: Historical and Cultural Studies of Geomancy in Korea

3

Hong-key Yoon 1  A Journey to the Collective Authorship of This Book 2  The Aim and Objectives of This Book 3  The Contents and Structure of This Book 4  Astro-Geomancy in Korea 5  The Definition of P’ungsu and Korean Geomancy 6  Why Geomancy Instead of Fengshui? The Roots of Western Academic Studies of Fengshui (Geomancy) 7  Review of Modern Research on Korean Geomancy

2 The Eight Periods in the History of Korean Geomancy

3 5 6 10 12 12 17

23

Hong-key Yoon 1  From the Time of Introduction to the Time toward the End of the Silla Dynasty before Tosŏn, the Geomancer-Monk (from the Ancient Era to the Ninth Century) vii

25

Contents

viii

2  From the Time of Master Tosŏn to King Kojong of the Koryŏ Dynasty (from the Ninth Century to 1259) 34 3  The Paucity of Practicing Geomancy during the Mongol Domination (1231–1356) 43 4  From King Kongmin of the Koryŏ Dynasty, Post Mongol, to the Fourth King of the Chosŏn Dynasty, King Sejong (1351–1450) 44 5  From King Sejo (r. 1455–1468) to the Time before the Rise of Sirhak or the Practical Learning School (1670) 47 6  From the Sirhak School to the End of the Chosŏn Dynasty (1670–1910) 51 7  The Period of Japanese Colonial Rule (1910–1945) 54 8  From the Liberation (1945) to the Present 56

3 Geomancy and Major Social Upheavals (Armed Uprisings) in the History of Korea

61

Hong-key Yoon 1  The Myoch’ŏng Rebellion 2  The Hong Kyŏngnae Rebellion 3  Chŏn Pongjun and the Tonghak Peasants’ Movement 4  Summary Remarks on Geomancy and Social Upheavals

61 63 64 68

4 Government Affairs Relating to Geomancy during the Time of Premodern Korea

71

Hong-key Yoon 1  Government Examinations for Geomancers 2  Government Bureaus of Geomancy 3  Important Textbooks of Geomancy during the Chosŏn Dynasty

5 A Glimpse of Environmental Management through Geomancy in Korean History

72 74 76

81

Hong-key Yoon 1  Official Records on the Impact of Geomancy on Vegetation in Korean History 82 2  A Small Grove of Trees around a Commoner’s Grave as a Means of Environmental Management 84 3  Royal Graves and Conservation of Forest 85 4  Preference for Certain Trees in Geomancy for Cosmological Harmony 87

Contents ix

5  Geomancy and Forest Land Tenure 6  Serious Geomantic Debates on Water Pollution

6 Principal Characteristics of Korean Geomancy

89 90

97

Hong-key Yoon 1  Mainly Based on the Form (Landform-Landscape) School 98 2  Preoccupation with Grave Geomancy 99 3  Strong Belief in the Idea of Reinforcing Geomantic Conditions through Artificial Means or Sanch’ŏn Piboron 102 4  Close Association with Geomantic Prophecies or Chiri Toch’am 地理 圖讖 104 5  A Close Association with Social Upheaval (Armed Uprisings) 105 6  Chigi soewangnon—the Idea that the Vital Energy of an Auspicious Site Can Wane or Wax through Time 106 7  Significant Impact of Geomancy on Korean Cartography 106 PART II

Selected Topics in Korean Geomancy Historical-Cultural Studies

7 Geomantic Practices of Water Acquisition and Management during the Chosŏn Dynasty

115

Dowon Lee 1 Background 2  Acquisition and Management of Water Resources 3 Conclusions

115 119 133

8 Geomantic Folk Narratives on the Bamboo Groves in Chinju City: Landscape as a Sign of Geomantic and Confucian Ideology 139 Kim Duk Hyun 1  Understanding the Groves of Traditional Korean Settlements 2  The Groves as Signifiers 3  The Formation of Geomantic Space and Groves in Chinju 4  Decline of Nam River Groves 5  Interpretation of the Significance of Settlement Groves 6 Conclusion

139 142 147 155 157 158

Contents

x

9 Geomancy and Traditional Architecture during the Chosŏn Dynasty

163

In-choul Zho 1  Introduction 163 2  Characteristics of Traditional Korean Architecture and Geomancy 166 3 Conclusion 213

10 Geomantic Aesthetics in a Traditional Korean Garden: With Reference to Kosan Yun Sŏndo’s Garden

221

Jongsang Sung 1  Introduction: Understanding Gardens through Geomancy 221 2  The Relationship between the Traditional Korean Garden and Geomancy 222 3  The Korean Garden as a Site of Geomantic Practices 224 4  Principles of Geomancy Applied to Traditional Korean Gardens 226 5  Geomancy as the Subject of Aesthetic Study: Geomantic Aesthetics 227 6  Reading the Korean Garden through Geomancy: Looking at the Puyongdong Wollim 234 7 Conclusion 244

11 Geomantic Landscape of a Sailing Boat: An Examination of Cultural Ecological Links

253

Hong-key Yoon 1  The Formation of Geomantic Landscapes 2  Types of Geomantic Landscapes in Korea 3  Geomantic Landscapes as a System Comparable to a Mini-Gaia 4  The Site Characteristics of the “Landscape of a Sailing Boat” 5  Concluding Remarks

12 Geomantic Modification of Landforms: The Idea of Chosan Pibo

254 255 258 259 273

275

Hong-key Yoon 1 Introduction 275 2  Previous Studies on P’ungsu and Chosan Pibo 275

Contents xi

3  The Three General Premises of the Geomantic Idea of Pibo 277 4  Historical Examples of Chosan Pibo 279 5  Characteristics of Chosan Pibo 287 6  The Significance of the Geomantic Idea of Pibo as a Geographic Agent in the History of Humanity 290 7 Conclusion 292

13 Geomancy and Psychology: A Psychological Analysis of Geomancy

297

Cheol Joong Kang 1  The Significance of a Psychological Study of Geomancy 2  Symbol and Psyche 3  Psychological Aspects of Auspicious Places 4  Reflective Remarks on a Psychological Analysis of Geomancy 5 Conclusion

14 Geomancy and Buddhism: An Examination of the Interaction during the Koryŏ Period

297 298 300 306 307

313

Won-suk Choi 1 Introduction 313 2  The Origin and Development of Interaction between Buddhism and Geomancy 315 3  Buddhism and Geomancy in Connection with Political Leadership 320 4  Mutually Beneficial Relationships between Buddhism and Geomancy 322 5 Conclusion 326

15 Geomantic Discourses of the Chosŏn Confucian Literati

329

Hwa Lee 1  Geomancy Discourse of the Chosŏn Royal Court: “Unbelievable but Indisposable” 329 2  Chinese Confucian Predecessors’ Geomancy Practical Index 331 3  Confucian Scholar-Officials’ Adoption of Geomancy 333 4  Reasons for the Adoption of Geomancy: Its Economic Aspects and Burial Site Litigations 山訟 344 5 Conclusion 346

Contents

xii

16 Geomantic Ideas in T’aengniji Manuscripts: An Examination of Changing Perceptions of P’ungsu during the Late Chosŏn Dynasty

353

Inshil Choe Yoon 1 Why T’aengniji Manuscripts? 2  Constant Features of Geomancy 3  Changes in Geomantic Discourses over Time 4 Conclusion

17 Concluding Remarks and Reflections

354 357 362 367

373

Hong-key Yoon References 377 List of Contributors 403 Index 407

Figures and Tables

Figures Figure 2.1. Chujak or Red Bird indicating the south direction in the Great Tomb of Koguryŏ in Kangsŏ (presently in North Korea). 30 Figure 2.2. Ch’ŏngnyong or Azure Dragon indicating the east direction in the Great Tomb of Koguryŏ in Kangsŏ (presently in North Korea).

30

Figure 2.3. Hyŏnmu or Black Warrior (Turtle) indicating the north direction in the Great Tomb of Koguryŏ in Kangsŏ (presently in North Korea).

31

Figure 2.4. Paeko or White Tiger, the guardian animal of the west direction in the Great Tomb of Koguryŏ in Kangsŏ (presently in North Korea).

31

Figure 2.5. The surrounding hills of Hwandosŏng, the mountain fortress of the Koguryŏ dynasty on the Yalu River.

33

Figure 2.6. A Portrait of Master Tosŏn in the Togapsa Buddhist Temple of Yŏngam County, South Chŏlla Province.

35

Figure 2.7. Portrait of Master Muhak in the Sillŭgsa Buddhist Temple of Yŏju County, Kyŏnggi Province.

46

Figure 2.8. This painting on a visitor information billboard shows the main mountain behind the Tosan Sŏwon complex.

50

Figure 2.9. Iron bars on display at the Independence Hall of Korea.

55

xiii

xiv

Figures and Tables

Figure 3.1. A page from a Tonghak religious scripture showing the incorporation of a geomantic proverbial saying, “A great person is born by drawing the energy from the land.”

66

Figure 3.2. The last photo of Chŏn Pongjun, the charismatic leader of the Tonghak Peasants’ War.

67

Figure 4.1. Nine hand-copied examples of traditional Korean geomancy manuscripts.

78

Figure 5.1A. A few remaining pine trees around three grave mounds.

84

Figure 5.1B. A row of mature pine trees surrounding a grave mound.

84

Figure 5.2. A pine grove around a family graveyard.

85

Figure 6.1A. Some examples of geomantic compasses used by Korean geomancers showing different rings for divining cosmological directions of auspiciousness.

99

Figure 6.1B. A premodern geomancer’s compass with the lid and purse used to store it.

99

Figure 6.2. A royal tomb of the Silla dynasty (57 BC–935 AD); known to be the tomb of the famous Silla General Kim Yusin.

100

Figure 6.3A. The front view of Kŏnwonnŭng, the tomb of the First King of the Chosŏn dynasty (1392–1910).

100

Figure 6.3B. The view from the back of Kŏnwonnŭng, the tomb of the First King of the Chosŏn dynasty.

100

Figure 6.4. The grave of Sŏngwagong, an army general during the Chosŏn dynasty from the Yoon family of Sŏnsan County, North Kyŏngsang Province.

101

Figure 6.5. A row of commoner’s family grave mounds of successive generations in Kyŏnggi Province.

101

Figure 6.6. Mountains and watercourses around an auspicious site (geomancy cave) in an idealized geomantic landscape.

107

Figure 6.7A. A geomantic map illustrating an auspicious site. Mountain shapes in black indicate mountain ranges surrounding an auspicious site.

108

Figure 6.7B. A geomantic map showing a simplistic sketch of mountain ranges (shaded parts) and watercourses (dotted lines) around auspicious places. 108 Figure 6.8. Taedong Yŏjido, the Map of the Great Eastern Nation (1861), consists of twenty-two separate folded pages. 109



Figures and Tables

Figure 7.1. Annual average frequency of the words of “drought” and “ritual for rain” recorded for the period of each king in the Korean version of Chosŏn Wangjo Sillok.

xv

117

Figure 7.2. An old map of Nagan County, Chŏlla Province, drawn in 1872. 121 Figure 7.3. Cross-section diagram of a typical traditional Korean village as related to topography.

122

Figure 7.4. A pair of stone statues of an imaginary animal called Haech’i sit in front of Kwanghwa Gate, Seoul.

124

Figure 7.5. Stone-stacked wall in Oeam Village.

125

Figure 7.6. A human-made waterway at Oeam folk village.

126

Figure 7.7. A pond in front of the village.

127

Figure 7.8. Location of the pond in a map of a village and village pond and grove in Osŏri Village of Kosŏng County, South Kyŏngsang Province.

129

Figure 7.9. Songmal piborim in a traditional Korean landscape. An example of a typical village with sugu magi still remaining at present.

131

Figure 7.10. A map of the landscape including a riparian village grove and other elements at Sach’onni Chŏmgongmyŏn Ŭisŏnggun, North Kyŏngsang Province.

133

Figure 7.11. A typical configuration and the spatial components of a traditional Korean village with regard to the acquisition, collection, retention, recycling, and discharge of water.

135

Figure 8.1. The geomantic map of Chinju (Haedongjido 海東地圖). 149 Figure 8.2. A picturesque map of Chinju.

150

Figure 8.3. Map of geomantic landscape of Chinju.

151

Figure 9.1. Kyŏngbok Palace site layout plan.

168

Figure 9.2. Kyŏngjabawi (boulder with the character Kyŏng [敬] engraved), city of Yŏngju-si, North Kyŏngsang Province.

170

Figure 9.3. Zelkova serrata tree at a Samsindang, in Hahoe Village in Andong, North Kyŏngsang Province.

171

Figure 9.4. T’aekwae (泰卦). The upper symbol is Kon-kwae (坤卦) signifying yin, and the lower symbol is Kŏn-kwae (乾卦) signifying yang.

173

xvi

Figures and Tables

Figure 9.5. Yangŭimun (兩儀門) and Kyot’aejŏn (交泰殿) inside Kyŏngbok Palace.

174

Figure 9.6. Yundo (輪圖), kept at the Kyujanggak Institute of Korean Studies.

174

Figure 9.7. Site plan of Otkol, located in the city of Daegu.

176

Figure 9.8. The town roads of Otkol.

176

Figure 9.9. Hetushu 河圖數 (Hadosu in Korean).

178

Figure 9.10. Luoshushu 洛書數 (Naksŏsu in Korean).

178

Figure 9.11. The tortoise and the rabbit in the story Pyŏlchubujŏn.

180

Figure 9.12. The Kyŏnghoeru Chŏndo, a book explaining the architectural principles of Kyŏnghoe Pavilion.

181

Figure 9.13. The girders of Kyŏnghoe Pavilion.

182

Figure 9.14. The columns of Kyŏnghoe Pavilion.

183

Figure 9.15. The Fuxi Liushisigua Cixutu.

183

Figure 9.16. The straw-thatched roof style.

186

Figure 9.17. The tiled-roof style.

186

Figure 9.18. Kim Tongsu house floor plan, Chŏng’ŭp, North Chŏlla Province.

187

Figure 9.19. Floor plan of Imch’ŏnggak’s Anch’ae or the interior quarters. 188 Figure 9.20. The symbol of T’aekp’ungdaegwa.

189

Figure 9.21. T’aekp’ungdang, located in Yangpyŏng-gun, Kyŏnggi Province. 190 Figure 9.22. Wénwáng bāguà (文王八卦).

191

Figure 9.23. Cross section of Yŏngsanjŏn in the Geo-Jo-Am annex of the temple Ŭnhyesa.

193

Figure 9.24. Guide map of Haeinsa (海印寺), located in Hapcheon-gun, South Kyŏngsang Province.

194

Figure 9.25. The Hweam-Sa (회암사) temple and its surrounding terrain. 196 Figure 9.26. Hweam-Sa site layout plan.

197

Figure 9.27. Layout plan of Yangdong Village in Kyŏngju.

199

Figure 9.28. Layout plan of Hahoe Village in Andong.

199

Figure 9.29. Miindanjanghyŏng (美人端粧形) Sando, or drawing of mountains forming the shape of a woman.

201



Figures and Tables

xvii

Figure 9.30. Pongsŏ-ru in the temple Tonghwasa, located in the Pal-Kong-San mountain city of Daegu.

202

Figure 9.31. Phoenix eggs, laid on top of the boulder in front of Pongsŏ-ru (鳳棲樓).

203

Figure 9.32. Tokkyebong (獨鷄峯), or “solitary rooster peak.”

204

Figure 9.33. The pond formed in front of the Kim Tongsu house in the shape of worms to serve as food for the centipede.

204

Figure 9.34. Sujaŭnjŏn (水字錢), or silver coin engraved with the character for water, from Kyŏngbok Palace.

205

Figure 9.35. Chinese characters Mogwang 木王 or “wood king.”

207

Figure 9.36. A metal figure in the shape of a centipede. Yanggindang in Hahoe village, City of Andong.

208

Figure 9.37. Turtle-shaped column footing, found in Kŏch’ang, South Kyŏngsang Province.

208

Figure 9.38. Turtle-shaped door handle, found in Nogudang, located in Haenam, South Chŏlla Province.

209

Figure 9.39. Nag’anŭpsŏng, North Chŏlla Province.

210

Figure 9.40. Curved boundary wall.

210

Figure 9.41. Naewebyŏk or “interior-exterior wall,” found in the Omiri house in Andong, North Kyŏngsang Province.

211

Figure 9.42. Chobyŏk, Wang family courtyard (王家大院), China.

212

Figure 9.43. The chimney of Dong-Chun-Dang (동춘당), in the city of Taejŏn.

213

Figure 10.1. The geomantic beauty of balance.

229

Figure 10.2. Pogil Island’s geomantic configuration of geographical features.

234

Figure 10.3. The perception structure between different points in the Puyongdong wollim.

236

Figure 10.4. The schematic structure of sansu 山水 (shanshui in Chinese); mountains and water) aesthetics and geomantic aesthetics.

237

Figure 10.5. The structure of Puyongdong’s geomancy: balance and harmony in geographical features.

238

Figure 10.6. The domain overseen from Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil.

240

Figure 10.7. Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil’s visual condition.

240

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Figures and Tables

Figure 10.8. View from Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil as Puyongdong’s kwansanchŏm. 241 Figure 10.9. Seyŏn Pavilion’s visual composition enjoying Oksodae.

241

Figure 11.1. A bird’s-eye view of Hahoe Village of Andong City that is almost encircled by a meandering river flow.

261

Figure 11.2. A painting on a visitor information billboard showing the surrounding mountains and a river in front.

262

Figure 11.3. Cultural ecological links in geomantic landscapes of a sailing boat in Korea.

264

Figure 11.4. The rock where the villagers of Kangjŏng used to draw river water for drinking and other domestic use.

267

Figure 11.5. The lonely sottae in UishinMaŭl, Taesungni, Hadong County, South Kyongsang Province.

271

Figure 12.1. An early photo of a chosan pibo, an artificially constructed hill, for geomantic purposes in Cheju Island at the southern end of the Korean peninsula.

279

Figure 12.2. Another example of pagoda-type stone pile or “geomantically built artificial hill” from Kŭmsan County, South Ch’ungchong province, Korea. 280 Figure 12.3. Human-built hills (earth mounds) on either side of the entrance to a village in Kŭmsan County, South Ch’ungchong Province, Korea.

280

Figure 12.4. A close-up view of the left-hand human-built hill shown in figure 12.3.

281

Figure 12.5. The remnant of a human-built hill near the site of the former Sunhŭng County seat, North Kyŏngsang Province, Korea, which had been turned into farmland, is an example of enhancing the size and effect of a hill by planting pines on it. 281 Figure 12.6. A written record showing the locations of geomantically built artificial hills in the Walled City of Andong, Korea, and its surrounding district. 284 Figure 12.7. Map of the Walled City of Andong, Korea, and its surrounding district.

285

Tables Table 8.1.

Semiotic system.

141



Figures and Tables

xix

Table 12.1. The Korean geomantic idea of chosan pibo and the Western idea of humanity as a partner with God in improving creation: A comparison.

291

Table 14.1. Buddhism-geomancy interactions.

314

Table 14.2. Phases and characteristics of Buddhism-geomancy interaction in Korean history.

315

Table 14.3. Examples of sacred locations with Buddhist spirits in Samguk Yusa.

325

Table 16.1. Structure of “watercourses” of the selected manuscripts and printed editions.

363

Table 16.2. Features in “geomancy” in the selected manuscripts and printed editions.

366

Acknowledgments

I am grateful to each of the chapter authors for their enthusiasm and hard work to produce this work on geomancy from their own disciplinary point of view. My special thanks go to Professor Won-suk Choi, who has been the treasurer-secretary of the P’ungsu research team to help the research team leader–editor of this book in various ways. My sincere gratitude is also due to Professors Dongwon Shin and Professor Man Yong Moon at the Korean Research Institute of Science, Technology, and Civilization at Jeonbuk National University for providing our P’ungsu research project with a valuable research grant. Editorial assistants helped the editor of this book with the arduous tasks of correcting grammar and polishing expressions of each chapter; the chapter authors were not native speakers of English. I am especially grateful to Yvonne Brill, Stella McKay, Claudia Gonnelli, Annabelle Yoon, and Renee Yoon. My thank you is also due to Dr. Yoosuk Kim for proofreading Korean terms according to McCuneReischauer Romanization system and to Professor Stephen L. Field, who read this manuscript at an advanced stage and provided editorial suggestions. Some chapters in this book were based on and developed from our earlier studies that have appeared previously in journals. For inclusion in this book they were revised and severely edited. Grateful acknowledgement is due to the journals or publications for granting permission to include revised and edited versions of the following papers in this book. Choi, Won-suk. “Interaction between Buddhism and P’ungsu in Korea.” International Journal of Buddhist Thought and Culture 14 (2010): 161–86. Cheol Joong Kang, “Tdang-e Toosadoen Jagi-ui Sangjing—Myeongdang-ui Bunseoksimrihakjeok Cheukmyeon” (Psychological Aspects of “Myeong-Dang” [Bright Yard, Auspicious Site] According to Pungsu), Shim-Song Yon-Gu 심 성연구 26(1) (2011): 67–88. xxi

xxii

Acknowledgments

Kim, Duk Hyun. “Chinju-ŭi taenamu imsu-wa p’ungsu solhwa—p’ungsu-wa yukyo ideorogi kihorusŏ munhwakyŏngkwan Tokhae” [Bamboo Groves and Geomantic Narratives of Jinju City—Reading Cultural Landscape as a Sign of ­Geomancy and Confucian Ideology] Munhwa Yŏksa Chiri [Journal of Cultural and Historical Geography] 42 (2010): 4–19. Yoon, Hong-key. “Cultural Ecological Links in ‘The Geomantic Landscape of a Sailing Boat.’” Paper presented at the International Conference on Feng Shui (Kan Yu) and Architecture, Humboldt University, Berlin, November 9–11, 2010. In Feng Shui (Kan Yu) and Architecture: International Conference in Berlin, edited by Florian C. Reiter, 31–48. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2011. Yoon, Hong-key. “Geomancy and Social Upheavals in Korea.” European Journal of Geopolitics 2 (2014): 5–23. Yoon, Hong-key. “Human Modification of Korean Landforms for Geomantic Purposes.” Geographical Review 101.2 (2011): 243–60. Yoon, Hong-key. “Chapter 3, The Introduction and Development of Geomancy in Korea.” In The Culture of Fengshui in Korea: An Exploration of East Asian Geomancy, 33–53. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2006. I wish to acknowledge my sincere gratitude to the facilitators and principal organizers of each workshop for this book project: Professor Lee Dowon for arranging the first workshop at Seoul National University, Professor Kim Duk Hyun for the second workshop at Kŭmje Village, and Professor Kong Woosuk for the third workshop at Kyunghee University. I wish to acknowledge that the Academy of Korean Studies provided the P’ungsu project team with financial support. The Academy also reviewed the manuscript twice and helped improve its quality. For the Romanization of Korean terms and personal names the ­McCuneReischauer system has been applied as thoroughly as possible, while modern Korean personal names were transcribed the way they appeared in publications. For the transliteration of Chinese terms and names, we applied the Pinyin system and for Japanese terms and names, the Hepburn system. Hong-key Yoon Editor

PART I Toward a History of Geomancy in Korea An Overview of Its Development

1 Introduction Historical and Cultural Studies of Geomancy in Korea

Hong-key Yoon

1. A Journey to the Collective Authorship of This Book Presently a number of publications on geomancy (fengshui in Chinese and p’ungsu in Korean) are available in English for Western readers. However, most of them are practical rather than “academic” works written by practicing geomancers for general readers interested in (or curious about) the mysterious Chinese-originated art of divining auspicious locations. There are also many books on geomancy in Chinese or Korean, but again most of them are “practical and rarely academic,” written by professional geomancers to promote the practice of geomancy. This book is not one of these publications. It is a serious, genuine academic work that endeavors to document, analyze, and explain the past and current practice of geomancy. This book may represent a milestone in the history of academic research on geomancy, for it may well be the first interdisciplinary research on geomancy in Korea. No other works on geomancy have been jointly produced by scholars from a number of disciplines, which here include geography, historical studies, environmental science, architecture, landscape architecture, religious studies, and medicine (analytical psychology). This type of interdisciplinary research may throw new light on future research on geomancy not only in Korea, but in China and other countries. I hope that new research possibilities and research directions on geomancy will come about as a result of this book’s publication. A scholar commented that all chapters in this book are innovative, but I feel that some chapters are particularly innovative as they represent the first attempt to understand geomancy in the English language from a particular academic angle, such as analytical psychology and landscape architecture. This type of research project was only possible with devoted participants at all levels, financial support, and editorial assistants who helped the editor.

3

4

P’ungsu

The editor of this volume conceived the idea of writing this type of book a number of years ago, but in starting the planning process he soon realized that this type of study on geomancy is a complex matter, much more suitable as an interdisciplinary research project involving a number of scholars. However, this book is not an anthology of papers planned and developed by individual authors with topics freely determined by them. In-depth and systematic research into Korean geomancy requires an interdisciplinary collaboration, and the editor invited nine specialists from different disciplines to research different aspects of geomancy. Our team’s prime goal was to produce a book in English on Korea’s geomantic heritage for readers in the English-speaking world. The editor assigned a research topic to each contributor and negotiated with each author regarding the research questions and discussion content they would cover. However, each author was principally responsible for researching and writing his or her own topic. All topics presented in this volume address different aspects of people-environment relationships, because geomancy is an art of people searching for an auspicious environment and using it appropriately. During their research and writing process, the authors of different chapters worked together, discussing and providing constructive criticism on their writings through three fruitful workshops. Most authors had opportunities for consultations and discussions with the editor of this volume on a one-to-one basis as well. The editor coordinated and reviewed each contributor’s research to avoid research overlaps and to ensure that the important aspects of geomancy in their field were included in their contribution. This book is the product of a team effort by a group of Korean scholars who originally worked together under the banner of P’ungsu: Historical and Cultural Studies of Geomancy in Korea. In early January 2009, a group of scholars representing different disciplines formed a research project team with the aim of producing a monograph length piece of research work on p’ungsu, Korean geomancy in cultural ecology. Twelve scholars participated in this project and so far we have had three workshops. The initial meeting, which was the first workshop, for planning and allocating duties, was held in March 2009 at the Graduate School of Environmental Studies at Seoul National University. Here, we settled on each member’s chapter responsibilities and the participants were asked to write their reports for the second workshop. The second workshop was held on June 6 and 7, 2009, at the residence of the head family of the Kim clan of Ŭisŏng in Kŭmgye Village, located in Andong City. The village is surrounded by geomantically evaluated hills, streams, and other landscape objects. The village is associated with many geomantic oral traditions. The workshop participants had invaluable discussions with the chongson 宗孫, the head of the family line of the Kim clan, about the geomantic conditions of the village, and we wish to thank him for the hospitality we received while our workshop was held at his village residence. The third workshop was held on the January 19, 2010, at Kyunghee University in Seoul. The meeting place provided by the university was a congenial room designated for learning and debating Korean classics. Here, a more advanced stage

Introduction 5

of research was discussed and all contributors helped each other in providing constructive criticism on the papers presented. The fourth and last workshop was held on September 3, 2011, at Seoul National University’s Graduate School of Environmental Studies. At the meeting, three chapter authors presented the revised versions of their manuscripts, and the authors of the history of geomantic theories chapters reported that they were to complete their manuscripts by the end of 2012. After this meeting each contributor completed his or her own chapter in consultation with the editor of this volume. The journey to produce this volume was a long process for all contributors. The majority of the chapters were completed in a draft form two to three years ago, but the editing process of each author’s manuscript required much more effort and time than the editor had originally anticipated. Thus, the editor and contributors of this volume agreed that if any author wished, they could publish their interim reports—earlier versions of their papers in either Korean or English—to receive feedback from the readership. Subsequently, some earlier (less developed) versions of chapters in this book were published elsewhere, as noted in the first footnotes of some chapters. However, all chapters in this volume are improved and expanded versions of earlier manuscripts through the last two years’ hard work by the chapter authors, to whom I am most grateful for tolerating my comments and advice. 2. The Aim and Objectives of This Book This book is not a general introduction to geomancy in Korea for Westerners who want to learn about basic geomantic principles for choosing auspicious sites. There are numerous publications on Chinese geomancy for such purposes. For Korean geomancy, Yoon Hong-key’s book, The Culture of Fengshui in Korea, has already introduced the general practice of geomancy in Korean culture. This book is designed to be a more advanced academic debate and an interdisciplinary discourse on the impact of geomancy on Korean culture, focusing on cultural ecological links between geomancy and Koreans’ interaction with of the environment. The aim of this volume is twofold: (1) to study geomancy, the way it was introduced and practiced in its historical context, and (2) to understand its impact on Koreans’ use of the environment in traditional Korean culture. The first part the book attempts to document and explain the historical development of geomancy in Korean culture; the second part examines how geomancy functioned in traditional Korean culture. A study of the relationships between a particular culture and its environmental conditions is sometimes referred to as cultural ecology by geographers and anthropologists. The term combines the two popular yet ambiguous and difficult concepts of “culture” and “ecology,” as Melvin W. Mikesell once commented.1 Culture is an anthropological term, widely used and has a number of definitions, which are in some ways related to learned behavior. The term ecology is a biological concept which is used very widely, and refers basically to the relationship between biological organisms and their surrounding environment. The concept of cultural ecology is

6

P’ungsu

difficult to define, but in this book, it is used to point out specific links between a particular culture and a particular environment. The aim of cultural ecology is to identify and explain the pattern of relationships between a particular cultural trait and its environment. In this book, cultural ecology is used to identify and explain geomantic culture traditions and the Korean environment. 3. The Contents and Structure of This Book This book consists of seventeen chapters, including this Introduction. All chapters were assigned to specialists and leading scholars in their fields, who will discuss historical aspects of geomancy during traditional or premodern Korea. In part I of the book, the first six chapters survey the historical development of Korean geomancy and its role in traditional Korean culture and society with a chronological approach. The eleven chapters in part II are devoted to specific topics relating to traditional Korean geomancy, ranging from ecological aspects of vegetation and geomancy to interrelationships between key religions and geomancy. These ten chapters are organized with a topical approach to geomancy studies. This remainder of this Introduction (Hong-key Yoon) includes a brief consideration of the relationships between astronomy-astrology and geomancy-geography in Korean culture. Also discussed is the choice of the term geomancy as the suitable English translation of the Chinese word fengshui or the Korean word p’ungsu. Chapter 2 (Hong-key Yoon) is a general overview of geomancy in Korean history and culture. Here the social and cultural history of how geomancy came to be accepted and practiced by Koreans is discussed, as the art of geomancy has been closely associated with sociopolitical changes of the past 1,000 years in Korea. In this chapter the Korean history of geomancy is divided into eight periods based on the sociohistorical characteristics of geomancy as practiced in Korea. This periodization method is a drastic departure from the existing scholarship, which is based on dynastic cycle as a historical unit. Chapter 3 (Hong-key Yoon) focuses on the effect of geomancy on major social upheavals or armed uprisings in Korean history. Geomancy played an important role in major armed uprisings as an agent of social instigation. The ringleaders of socially discontented communities often manipulated geomantic ideas and organized people to stand up to the central government or the then-existing sociopolitical elite class. This chapter surveys and comments on the three most important armed uprisings in Korean history from a geomantic point of view. Chapter 4 (Hong-key Yoon) introduces government affairs relating to geomancy during the Koryŏ and Chosŏn dynasties. The premodern Korean government established bureaus of geomancy, which were often jointly organized with bureaus of astronomical affairs. The central government regularly conducted examinations on key geomantic textbooks to recruit qualified professional geomancers. Government geomancers advised the king and royal court on geomantic affairs, including the construction of royal tombs and government buildings.

Introduction 7

Chapter 5 (Hong-key Yoon) introduces some useful examples of environmental management through geomancy in Korean history. Geomancy aided environmental management by protecting significant forest areas around royal tombs and settlements, including some capital cities. The Chosŏn dynasty government also attempted to control rubbish dumping into streams in the city of Seoul. This chapter exhibits a few environmental management cases that geomancy played a role in and is not intended to be a complete chronological history of environmental management in Korea. Chapter 6 (Hong-key Yoon) summarizes the principal characteristics of Korean geomancy by reflecting on the author’s geomancy research over several decades. The chapter proposes seven characteristics of geomancy, including the preoccupation with grave geomancy, strong associations with the form (landscape) school, and close relationships with armed uprisings and geomantic prophecies, among others. The author also points out that most Korean geomancy characteristics are closely related to those of China. Chapter 7 (Dowon Lee) deals with issues relating to water acquisition and management in geomantic landscapes during the Chosŏn dynasty, arguing that geomancy contributed to the ecological management of water resources in waterdeficient areas of traditional Korea. The ecological implications of hydrological considerations in geomancy are reflected in (1) the preference for slow and meandering water flows; (2) watershed-based land use and a village landscape arrangement of hills in background and water in front; (3) mountain of fire anima or vitality and soil moisture; (4) a village pond; and (5) management of the village boundary. A typical geomantically located settlement at the end of a wooded foothill with a watercourse in front was ecologically significant for forest conservation. From such a forest the villagers acquired firewood, accessed clean water flowing down from upland forests, and drained excess water to watercourses on low-lying land in front of their settlement. Chapter 8 (Kim Duk Hyun) discusses the geomantic significance of groves planted and maintained by the residents of traditional settlements. In traditional Korean settlements, people sometimes planted trees to form a grove to make up for the geomantic shortcomings of a settlement. It was a distinct geomantic way of organizing the village landscape to symbolize the mana (dignity and authority) of a settlement, but it also provided a windbreak and helped with flood control. Chapter 8 discusses an example of these settlement groves in Chinju city. The city had well-established bamboo groves during the Chosŏn dynasty because the locals believed that the geomantic landscape of the city was a “flying phoenix.” The residents thought that the auspicious phoenix enjoyed bamboo seeds and that the grove would attract the imaginary bird to settle in the city. However, this belief is fading and the grove is now very damaged due to neglect and a new district redevelopment project. Chapter 9 (In-choul Zho) reveals that traditional Korean architecture adopted geomantic principles as a cornerstone of site selection, the provision of building

8

P’ungsu

material, and the construction process of houses. Geomancy as applied in Korea differs somewhat from that that was applied in China. Important characteristics of Korean architecture related to geomancy include a preference for locations in foothills with background hills and water in front. The Yin-Yang and Five Elements cycles of mutual birth and destruction were very seriously considered in choosing the floor plan and orientation of a building. This chapter emphasizes that traditional Korean architecture employed geomancy to determine the hierarchical order of buildings and to organize the logical story-telling aspects of building structures. It argues that traditional Korean architecture attempted to transform a mythological story into concrete landscape form by attempting to produce an ideal residential environment. Chapter 10 (Jongsang Sung) proposes to adopt the concept of geomantic aesthetics in understanding traditional Korean gardens during the Chosŏn dynasty. Geomancy provided the effective perspectives and principles for making a garden, especially for wollim 園林 (yuanlin in Chinese), a garden in a mountainous area. The geomantic perspective was actively used when making a wollim. Selecting the site for a wollim requires an aesthetically discerning eye similar to that applied in geomancy, and the ability to consider the garden’s harmony with the surrounding landscape and its compositions. Gardens or garden elements, such as chŏngja 亭子, a traditional Korean-style pavilion, and pagodas resolved issues by applying traditional geomantic principles. With special reference to Yun Sŏndo’s wollim at the southern end of the Korean Peninsula, this chapter discusses how geomantic principles were applied to a traditional garden design and reveals the landscape aesthetics. It argues that geomantic aesthetics formed the mental image and influenced the overall formation of Yun Sŏndo’s wollim. Chapter 11 (Hong-key Yoon) investigates a cultural ecological aspect of the geomantic landscape of a sailing boat. People living in such landscapes attempted to stabilize their relationship with the landscape mainly through the six different cultural ecological links between people and the environment. An important link was the local residents’ practice of forbidding well digging as a gesture to save a sailing-boat landscape (i.e., a settlement) from sinking. The practitioners’ justification was that digging a well is comparable to making a hole in the bottom of a boat. However, recent research suggests that this custom may not have originated from geomancy, but is seemingly nongeomantic in origin and only later came to be associated with geomancy. The folk customs practiced in a sailing-boat geomantic landscape demonstrate that geomantic ideas favor stability and unchanging relationships between people and their surrounding environment and stand against a drastic redevelopment of an existing landscape. Chapter 12 (Hong-key Yoon) discusses the geomantic modification of landforms in Korea to make up for the shortcomings of a geomantic landscape. Zealous practitioners of geomancy modified landscapes by building small hills (mounds of earth or stone). These human-built hills were often small and represented symbolic

Introduction 9

gestures made to remedy a geomantically lacking landscape. However, the geomantic idea of constructing human-built hills to improve a geomantic landscape is a suitable case for comparison with the Western idea of humanity as a modifier of the environment (the idea of humanity as a geographic agent) that viewed human beings as partners of God in improving His creation. The two ideas are similar in some sense, yet are markedly different in other respects. Chapter 13 (Cheol Joong Kang) is a pioneering piece of work looking into deep psychological interpretations of Koreans’ geomantic desire to acquire auspicious sites. It is written by a practicing medical specialist-psychiatrist. The desire to obtain beauty, goodness, knowledge, and wealth are deeply rooted human desires. However, Koreans’ and other East Asians’ desire to obtain auspicious sites not only for their houses but for the grave sites of their descendants may be quite different from Western attitudes. Such Eastern attitudes represent deep psychological, religious, and iconographical meanings. With the aid of a Jungian psychological method, this chapter attempts to uncover what aspects of human mentality are responsible for Koreans’ pursuit of these auspicious sites. It also attempts to explain how such behavior affects human mentality in general. Chapter 14 (Won-suk Choi) explores the interrelationships between Buddhism and geomancy in Korean history. The beginning of this interaction is conjectured to have occurred after the introduction of Zen Buddhism, toward the end of the Silla dynasty (57 BC–935 AD). This chapter mainly examines a key aspect of the interaction between the two: for geomancy, the use of Buddhist installations to remedy the shortcomings in a geomantic landscape and for Buddhism, the use of geomancy for locating temples in auspicious locations. Chapter 15 (Hwa Lee) argues that geomancy (p’ungsu) was normally granted a religious and cultural status in the neo-Confucian society of the Chosŏn dynasty. Although geomancy was obviously an art of improper heterodoxy from the neoConfucian viewpoint, it survived and coexisted with orthodox Confucianism by being treated as “unbelievable but not disposable.” There have been many discourses on the validity of geomancy by the Confucian literati. Through such Confucian discourses on geomancy, the art of p’ungsu coexisted with Confucian scholarship while accommodating people’s fortune-telling behavior. These contradictory characteristics were the reality of p’ungsu during the Chosŏn dynasty. Chapter 16 (Inshil Choe Yoon) asserts that the traditional Korean perception of preferred settlement locations in Korea, in terms of geomancy, is best dealt with in the T’aengniji 擇里誌 (Book of Choosing Settlements). Written in the early 1750s, the T’aengniji was one of the most popular and widely circulated Korean classics during the late Chosŏn period. It is still widely quoted and researched in many academic fields, such as geography, history, and architecture. The discussion of this chapter is based on Inshil Choe Yoon’s recent examinations of 94 T’aengniji manuscripts. It reveals not only how strongly the T’aengniji treated geomancy as an important criteria in selecting livable settlements in Korea, but how the ­perception

10

P’ungsu

of geomancy by T’aengniji readers has changed over the course of nearly two centuries since the original creation of the manuscript. Chapter 17 concludes the discussions in the book and reflects on the process of writing this book. It contains a self-assessment of the book’s contribution to academic fields and future research tasks. Having introduced the general profile of the book, let us proceed to part I, which documents and explains the historical development of geomancy in Korean culture, before moving on to part II, which contains topical examinations of how geomancy functioned in traditional Korean culture. 4. Astro-Geomancy in Korea Traditionally in Korea, the words ch’ŏnmun 天文 (astronomy; astrology) and chiri 地理 (geomancy; geography) were frequently combined to form the Korean term ch’ŏnmun chiri, or in English, astronomy-geomancy (abridged as astro-geomancy here). The Korean term for astro-geomancy was used to describe the embodiment of knowledge concerning the environmental system surrounding humanity, from the sky to the land and water. Ch’ŏnmun, or astrology-astronomy, dealt with phenomena relating to the heavenly sphere, while chiri (geomancy-geography) covered those of the earthly sphere. Thus, the pair covered all environmental knowledge, from the study of star positions, seasonal changes, and daily weather conditions to the study of earth surface conditions such as landforms, watercourses, and vege­ tation. The combined term, ch’ŏnmun chiri, was an umbrella concept embracing the traditional studies of environmental conditions. The term is used in a somewhat similar manner to the modern concepts of environmental science and environmental management, combined with cosmology-divination. This was why one government bureau oversaw both astronomical and geomantic affairs during the Chosŏn dynasty. The Sŏun’gwan 書雲觀 (Bureau for Recording Clouds)2 was the court office that dealt with astronomy and geomancy, and employed professional astrologist-astronomers and geomancers who worked together in the royal court. While ch’ŏnmun and chiri were sometimes bundled together and recognized as a single detached body of knowledge, they were often treated as separate terms relating to environmental affairs. I will now briefly discuss the Korean terms used in this book to indicate geomancy. The terms, p’ungsu 風水 and chiri are both used to connote geomancy, although traditionally, the term p’ungsu (literally, “wind and water”) more directly and exclusively referred to geomancy, whereas chiri (literally, “the patterns of earth” or “the principles of earth”) referred to geomancy as well as a geographical gazetteer or regional geography. A traditional Korean expression, chiri-rŭl ponda 地理를 본다, referred to observing landforms geomantically or practicing geomancy, whereas chiriji-rŭl ponda 地理志를 본다 referred to reading the book of a local gazetteer or a regional geography. By briefly considering etymological meanings relating to geomancy, such as ch’ŏnmun chiri (astronomy-­geomancy),



Introduction 11

chiri (geomancy and geography), and p’ungsu (geomancy), I have attempted to portray the close relationships between geomancy and geography or other related traditional fields of study that concern the environment. Attempting to understand these traditional fields of study by referencing modern academic subject categories might be inappropriate because these traditional subjects and concepts do not squarely fit into the modern divisions of academic categories. These two traditional subjects, ch’ŏnmun (astronomy-astrology) and chiri (geomancy-geography), studied environmental conditions very differently than modern schools of environmental science, because they included astrology and geomantic divination as part of their environmental studies. In fact, some may argue that attempts to understand past subjects using modern concepts and classifications are a form of “presentism” that interprets the past from the present point of view to justify the present situation.3 In this view, it is not appropriate to label, classify, and describe these two traditional areas of study from the present point of view using modern concepts. Such attempts may result in tracing history backward, from the present to the past, and using the present as a measuring yardstick to judge the past.4 But it is often not possible to interpret the past without some reference to the present and without the aid of modern concepts and classification. An explanation of traditional Korean geomancy sometimes cannot avoid such practices. Traditional geomancy is not the same as modern environmental science. However, describing its nature and function in Korean society is hard to do without any reference to contemporary fields of study, and explaining traditional geomancy with some reference to modern concepts and classifications makes it much easier to understand. Explaining Korean geomancy with reference to some modern concepts and classifications allows us to think of geomancy as the traditional version of modern environmental studies, which embraces environmental science, environmental management, and physical and human geography, while also incorporating a form of divination with reference to surrounding landforms and cosmic directions. No single modern term is suitable to describe p’ungsu, because it is a type of environmental study not easily defined. Korean geomancy cannot be simply classified using modern Western classification criteria, as I have previously stated in several publications: “After studying it [i.e., Korean geomancy], one is likely to ask whether it is a superstition, a religion, or a science. My conclusion is that geomancy is none of these things. There is no concept equivalent to geomancy in the West, nor can it be understood in terms of any Western notion. Geomancy is a unique and comprehensive system of conceptualising the physical environment that regulates human ecology by influencing man to select auspicious environments and to build harmonious structures such as graves, houses and cities on them.”5 Korean geomancy is a traditional field of learning in Korea that assimilates elements of religion, superstition, and science into studies of the environment surrounding humans. It is a traditional field of study that can best be described using

12

P’ungsu

traditional concepts relating to environmental studies. The most suitable traditional concept to describe Korean geomancy, or p’ungsu, is p’ungsu itself, not a modern concept representing a branch of a Western academic field of studies. 5. The Definition of P’ungsu and Korean Geomancy In both China and Korea, the terms p’ungsu and chiri were used interchangeably when referring to geomancy, however the term chiri could also be used when discussing geography. Presently in Korea, p’ungsu chiri, the combination of p’ungsu and chiri, has been exclusively used in reference to geomancy, despite the fact that p’ungsu has one meaning (geomancy) and chiri has two (geography and geomancy). This combined term, p’ungsu chiri, which contains a double emphasis or repetition of two different words meaning geomancy, became a popular Korean name for geomancy and its usage is almost certainly of Korean origin. The late Professor Yi Pyŏngdo, a noted historian, probably combined the two words and used the resulting term for the first time. In his much-acclaimed research work on geomancy and politics during the Koryŏ dynasty (918–1392), Koryŏ Sidae-ŭi Yŏn’gu (A Study of the Koryŏ Period), he argued (p. 21) that “Geomancy is known with original names such as p’ungsu or chiri. It is also known as kamyŏ 堪輿 [kanyu in Chinese]. However, to avoid dispute over names and confusion, I decided to use the combined words, p’ungsu chiri (風水地理), to denote geomancy.” It is appropriate to say that p’ungsu chiri is a term coined and used only in Korea. I have not yet noticed the use of the term in either China or Japan. The term geomancy used in this book takes its meaning from the traditional Korean term p’ungsu or p’ungsu chiri, derived originally from the Chinese term, fengshui 風水. 6. Why Geomancy Instead of Fengshui? The Roots of Western Academic Studies of Fengshui (Geomancy) The concept of geomancy has long been a difficult subject to understand, and as one Western scholar declared, Chinese geomancy still remains an enigma.6 Some Western scholars understood it as superstition, the rudiments of natural science, or a quasireligious and pseudoscientific system.7 Geomancy has had a tremendous impact on East Asian culture. For instance, it has played a critical role in the layout of major East Asian capital cities such as Beijing and Nanjing in China, Seoul and Kaesong in Korea, and Kyoto and Nara in Japan (Yoon 2006, 217–73). However, this ancient East Asian system of divining locations clearly originated from ancient China and cannot be easily classified or labeled using a Western academic category such as “geography” or “environmental science.” This Chinese art has now been introduced to the West through migration and is attracting considerable attention as a curious and mysterious Chinese means of spatial divination. For a long time, ever since Western intellectuals began writing about the art of geomancy in China, scholars have used various terms to label the practice. Some



Introduction 13

used the Chinese term, fengshui, with spelling variations such as fung shui or feng shui, preferring not to adopt an English term for the Chinese art. Others adopted the word geomancy as a translation of the Chinese term, fengshui. The term geomancy originally seemed to refer to a form of Islamic divination, the practice of reading the figures created by throwing handfuls of earth. It is claimed that the term geomancy was first used “in Spain in the twelfth century as a translation of the Arabic ilm alraml (the science of sand),” a common name for a type of divination.8 However, after the art of fengshui from China became known to the West, especially since the nineteenth century, the word geomancy came to also mean the art of situating buildings and other structures auspiciously. This second definition of geomancy in an English dictionary, “an art of situating buildings and tombs auspiciously,” clearly characterizes the nature of fengshui. I will document and discuss more on this matter later. I will first briefly review Western scholarship on Chinese geomancy since the nineteenth century with special attention to how the term geomancy, or fengshui, has been used. Early Western sinologists understood fengshui or Chinese geomancy as a folk belief system. Ernst Johann Eitel (1838–1908), the author of Feng-shui: Or, the Rudiments of Natural Science in China, might be the first scholar who produced a monograph on the subject (1873). In his book Eitel did not adopt geomancy as a translation of the Chinese term fengshui. He referred to the art as feng-shui. More substantial discourse and richer documentation are found in Jan Jakob Maria de Groot’s (1854–1921) work, The Religious Systems of China, vol. 3 (1897). In his book, he used the term fung-shui and did not adopt geomancy as an English equivalent. One of the first Western scholars who used the term geomancy in place of fengshui was Henri Doré (1859–1931), S. J., in his work Recherches sur les superstitions en Chine (Researches into Chinese Superstitions), which was published in French but translated into English by M. Kennelly, S. J., in 1914.9 Joseph Needham adopted the term, geomancy in lieu of fengshui, and labeled it as a “purely superstitious”10 or “the far-reaching pseudo-science”11 in his book Science and Civilisation in China. British anthropologist Maurice Freedman also used the term geomancy when he presented his presidential address entitled “Geomancy: Presidential Address 1968” at the Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland.12 He also published a long chapter, “Geomancy and Ancestor Worship,” in his book, Chinese Lineage and Society: Fukien and Kwangtung.13 In his research Freedman adopted the English word geomancy as a translation of the Chinese term, fengshui. Andrew March’s article in the Journal of Asian Studies (1968), “An Appreciation of Chinese Geomancy,” was an important scholarly introduction to Chinese geomancy for contemporary scholars in the English-speaking world. Another scholar, Stephan D. R. Feuchtwang, also used the term geomancy in place of fengshui, publishing his book, An Anthropological Analysis of Chinese Geomancy, in 1974.14 Feuchtwang’s book may be one of the best studies on the principles of the geomantic compass and related cosmology. The most recent and most thorough fieldwork to date on the contemporary practice of geomancy in China was carried

14

P’ungsu

out by Ole Bruun; his research, based on the participant observation method, is reported in his book, Fengshui in China: Geomantic Divination between State Orthodoxy and Popular Religion (2003). In it, he uses the words geomancy and fengshui interchangeably. Over all, although many scholars of Chinese geomancy adopted the English word geomancy in place of the Chinese word fengshui, it seems the terms are often used interchangeably in scholarly works. However, recent trends show that the Chinese term fengshui is more popularly adopted and the English word geomancy is used somewhat less frequently. The first Westerner who commented on the practice of geomancy in Korea was probably Rev. J. S. Gale. He briefly introduced and commented on the choice of Seoul as capital city by the first king of the Chosŏn dynasty, King T’aejo, who chose the city after conducting geomantic evaluations of several worthy sites with geomancers.15 No other Western missionaries or scholars wrote any substantial work on geomancy in Korea. Compared to the rich geomancy studies in China by Western missionary-scholars, geomancy in Korea attracted very little attention from Western scholars, although geomancy was as important in Korean culture as in Chinese culture. Among non-Korean scholars who were studying Korean geomancy, Murayama Chijun, a Japanese scholar, certainly stands out. His research on Korean geomancy was fully supported by the Japanese colonial government-general of Korea at that time, and his research resulted in a landmark contribution to studies in Korean geomancy with his book, Chosen-no Fusui (Geomancy in Korea). 16 However, his work was written in Japanese and was therefore not accessible to Western readers. Except for this major work by Murayama Chijun, virtually no other foreign scholars published any works on geomancy in Korea. Only recently have some Koreans published their works on Korean geomancy in English. Hongkey Yoon wrote a substantial work on geomancy in Korea in his PhD dissertation at UC Berkeley, printed in 1976.17 Since then he has published another book and a number of articles in English on the topic. Now let us turn our attention to some major English dictionaries and examine how they have defined the word geomancy. We will attempt to document and examine the trend of reputable dictionary definitions of geomancy coming to include a basic description of the Chinese practice of fengshui. As shown below, the definition of geomancy started by denoting an Islamic divination method of reading figures formed by throwing a handful of earth onto a surface. But now, new dictionaries include an additional definition of geomancy that reflects the nature of fengshui as situating cities, houses, and other sites auspiciously. These English dictionaries confirm that the English word geomancy has been coined as a suitable translation of the Chinese term, fengshui. The first edition (1933) of the authoritative Oxford English Dictionary has an entry on geomancy and describes it as: “The art of divination by means of signs derived from the earth, as by the figure assumed by a handful of earth thrown down upon some surface. Hence, usually, divination by means of lines or figures formed by jotting down on paper a number of dots at random.”18



Introduction 15

The second edition (1989) of the dictionary repeated the exact same definition.19 Both editions defined geomancy as the art of divination by means of signs derived from a handful of earth thrown down on some surface, and not as an art of siting cities, buildings, and graves auspiciously. However, the Oxford dictionary acknowledges that the term geomancy (geomancie) is used by Geoffrey Chaucer in around 1386, and by J. H. Gray in his work on China in 1878, who stated that “the houses are built according to the principles of geomancy.”20 The 1889 edition of the Century Dictionary elaborated on geomancy in somewhat more detail: “The pretended art of divining future events, or of ascertaining the luckiness or unluckiness of any events or locality, by means of signs connected with the earth, as from the figure indicated by points taken at random on the surface, or from the disposition of the particles of a handful of dust or earth thrown down at random, or, as in China, from the configuration and aspect of a particular region in its relation to some other.”21 The first part of this definition confirms the original meaning of geomancy in the Oxford dictionary as “Islamic divination with a handful of earth thrown down at random.” The last part of the definition, however, describes the practice of fengshui in China by stating “as in China, from the configuration and aspect of a particular region.” Modern dictionaries of the English language clearly describe the practice of fengshui in China as geomancy. The Oxford English Reference Dictionary lists two definitions of geomancy as follow: “(1) The art of siting buildings, etc. auspiciously,” and “(2) Divination from the configuration of a handful of earth or random dots.”22 In this definition of geomancy, the Chinese practice of “siting buildings auspiciously,” which is fengshui, has moved to become the first definition, placed before the original English dictionary definition referring to Islamic divination practices. The New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary now also clearly acknowledges geomancy as the equivalent word to the Chinese term fengshui with the definition, “Divination from the configuration of a handful of thrown earth or a number of random dots,” as well as “the art of siting cities, buildings, tombs, etc., auspiciously.”23 These Oxford dictionary definitions clearly imply that the original meaning of geomancy was “divination from the configuration of thrown earth,” but a second, newer meaning is “the art of sitting cities, houses and tombs auspiciously, a clear description of the traditional Chinese art of site selection, fengshui. The above considerations justify adopting the English word geomancy for the Chinese word, fengshui. This usage has been popular for a long time, as shown in Andrew March’s well-known article in the Journal of Asian Studies in 1968.24 However, Western writers have recently used the term fengshui more frequently than the term geomancy, which seems to be in decline. Nevertheless, I have adopted geomancy in this book as being the equivalent of fengshui and p’ungsu for the following four reasons: 1. The definition “an art of siting buildings, etc. auspiciously,” which is a suitable description of fengshui (Chinese geomancy), is now listed as a standard definition

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P’ungsu

of geomancy in the recent editions of the authoritative Oxford English dictionaries, including The Oxford English Reference Dictionary and the New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary as well as a nineteenth-century edition of the credible the Century Dictionary. 2. Geomancy or Chinese geomancy has been widely used by Western scholars as the English equivalent word of the Chinese word fengshui in various works of English literature, as discussed earlier. Only recently has usage of the term fengshui become popular. 3. The term geomancy is a neutral term that does not favor any one particular nation in East Asia. Fengshui is the art as practiced in China, while p’ungsu is the art as practiced in Korea, and fusui or kasogaku (the art of house geomancy) is the art as practiced in Japan. Therefore, it is more accurate to say “geomancy in Korea” than “fengshui in Korea,” because the term fengshui refers to geomancy as practiced in China. If the term geomancy is replaced by a native East Asian term, each nation should adopt its own word for geomancy. For example, “geomancy in China” becomes “fengshui in China,” while geomancy in Korea becomes “p’ungsu in Korea,” and in Japan it becomes “fusui in Japan.” In this sense the title of a book I wrote, The Culture of Fengshui in Korea: An Exploration of East Asian Geomancy (Lexington Books, 2006), is worded incorrectly. It should be the Culture of Geomancy in Korea or the Culture of P’ungsu in Korea. 4. While fengshui is the current and most popular term, it is not the only Chinese term for geomancy in China. Several other names for geomancy exist. Historically, dili 地理 (principles of land or patterns of land, meaning geomancy as well as geography) or kanyu (the wagon loaded with all sorts of things, meaning heaven and earth) were popular and widely circulated terms for Chinese geomancy, and their usages were more common than the term fengshui. This argument is supported by numerous geomancy textbook titles and terms, such as dili xiansheng 地理先生 for the masters of geomancy. Terms such as xiangzhai 相宅 (examining a residence) or xiangdi 相地 (examining land) are also used to refer to Chinese geomancy in classical literature and were a traditional usage in lieu of the term fengshui. The term fengshui rarely appeared in book titles of literature on Chinese geomancy during premodern China. In my research, the term dili (principles of land) was used most frequently in various geomancy book titles in traditional Chinese society. For instance a popular Chinese geomancy textbook, Dili Renzi Xuezhi 地理人子須知 (Geomantic Facts that All Humanity Must Know), was published during the Ming dynasty (1368–1644) and was widely circulated. It is still regarded as a key traditional geomancy textbook in China and Korea. This textbook, as well as a number of other books on geomancy, used the term dili in their titles, while fengshui was rarely used in geomancy book titles in premodern China. The adoption of fengshui as the name for Chinese geomancy seems to be a recent phenomenon, though the once-popular traditional terms such as dili and kanyu are still alive and appear in geomantic literature. Therefore, there is no reason why we should treat the term fengshui as the only Chinese term representing Chinese geomancy.



Introduction 17

7. Review of Modern Research on Korean Geomancy In a review of modern scholarship and research into the thought and the practice of Korean geomancy, we have to honor two book-length monumental works, one in Korean, the other in Japanese.25 The 1948 Korean work, Koryŏ Sidae-ŭi Yŏn’gu, is by Yi Pyŏngdo.26 This is a study of the impact of geomancy and geomantic prophecy on the government of the Koryŏ dynasty (918–1392) and the early Chosŏn dynasty (1392–1450s). The second work is by Murayama Chijun, Chosen-no Fusui (1931).27 Published in Japanese as one of thirty-one volumes of a survey series by the Japanese government-general of Korea, this book provides the most comprehensive study of Korean geomancy. I will now discuss some important literature focusing on key monographic works in the study of geomancy in Korea, in chronological order. The first modern scholar who studied Korean geomancy may have been Murayama Chijun, a Japanese researcher employed by the Japanese colonial government of Korea. He documented and explained the principles and practice of geomancy in Korea in his book Chosen-no Fusui (1931). The Japanese colonial government of Korea extensively surveyed and documented traditional Korean customs, lifestyles, and belief systems as a part of the colonial government’s ruling strategy for Korea. Murayama Chijun was employed as a temporary researcher for this purpose and he was involved in research projects on geomancy and other belief systems. The Japanese colonial government must have thought that an understanding of geomancy was deeply rooted in the Korean mentality and was therefore critically important for effective colonial rule, so they carried out extensive surveys and research on this subject. It is fair to say that Murayama Chijun’s work was at least partly intended to serve Japanese colonial rule of Korea. However, this book compiles perhaps the richest and most extensive folkloristic and anthropological information on geomancy in Korea as practiced at that time. It is said that the former Korean court geomancer, Chŏn Kiung, and other well-known geomancers of the time were consultants for the research project and are assumed to have provided valuable information. Yi Pyŏngdo, a prominent Korean historian, turned his attention to the importance of geomancy in understanding Korean history. During Japanese colonial rule, he started studying the impact of geomancy on Korean capital city site selections and on town planning at the beginning of the Chosŏn dynasty.28 However, his most significant work on Korean geomancy was his book Koryŏ Sidae-ŭi Yŏn’gu, where he carefully examined in detail the impact of geomantic beliefs on the politics and society of the Koryŏ dynasty.29 His book, even after 50 years, is still considered a reliable and authoritative study. Professor Yi Pyŏngdo shows how much the Korean elite was influenced in the selection and maintenance of capitals and how important geomantic prophesies have been in Korean society. After Yi Pyŏngdo’s work in 1975, another historian, Ch’oe Pyŏnghŏn, examined the social function of geomancy and its historical significance through the study of Monk Tosŏn (827–898).30 In his article Ch’oe Pyŏnghŏn evaluated the significance of geomantic ideas in the history

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of Korean thought. In the 1970s research activities on geomancy in Korea became active, especially in the fields of geography, anthropology, and folk literature. In cultural geography, Geomantic Relationships between Culture and Nature in Korea by Hong-key Yoon was printed in English in 1976. 31 This book was a publication of his PhD dissertation with minor modifications and additions. He published several articles on Chinese and Korean geomancy, especially on the image of nature in geomancy and on the origin of geomancy in China and its spread to Korea. However, most of his works were written in English and naturally were read more widely outside Korea, particularly in the English-speaking world. Perhaps the most popular and influential research work on geomancy in Korea by a modern scholar might be Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu Sasang (Geomantic Thought in Korea) by Choi Changjo, in 1984.32 This book, written in Korean, became a key book introducing geomancy to scholars as well as to the general public in Korea. Choi Changjo wrote a number of books and articles on geomancy in Korea and translated classical Chinese geomantic textbooks such as the Qingwujing 靑烏經 and the Zangjing 葬經 (Jinnangjing 錦囊經) into modern Korean. His writing and lecturing through public broadcasts have heightened the public’s interest in the geomantic belief system, and this inspired some scholars to present more critical views on geomancy. Park Sea-ik might be the first contemporary architect to enter into serious geomancy research; he has attempted to apply geomantic principles to the design of modern homes and buildings.33 In his PhD dissertation, “A Study of the Background and Origin of Fengshui Theory,” he advocated the possible Korean origin of Chinese geomantic theory and wrote another book on geomancy and architecture. In 1987 David J. Nemeth published a monograph, The Architecture of Ideology: Neo-Confucian Imprinting on Cheju Island, Korea.34 This book is based on his PhD dissertation and discusses geomancy as a key ideology in the formation and understanding of the cultural landscape in Cheju Island.35 He also wrote several articles on geomantic maps from Cheju Island, and his works are among the most substantive introductions to the geomancy and landscape of Cheju Island, Korea. Kim Dukyu is an active researcher and prolific writer about geomancy in Korea. His sympathetic view of geomancy is similar to that of Choi Changjo. He has translated two classics of Chinese geomantic discourse, Dili Xinfa 地理新法 (New Principles of Geomancy) by Hu Shunshen 胡舜申 of the Song dynasty and Mingshanlun 明山論 (Discourses on Auspicious Mountains). His book, Chosŏn P’ungsuhagin-ŭi Saeng’ae-wa Nonjaeng (The Lives and Debates of Chosŏn Dynasty Geomancers) is the result of his research into famous geomancers during the Chosŏn dynasty and is based on the official historical records, the Chosŏn Wangjo Sillok (Annals of the Chosŏn Dynasty).36 Since the 1990s, several young Korean cultural geographers have completed their PhD dissertations on geomancy in Korea. As commented previously, Lee Mong Il studied the history of Korean geomantic thought for his PhD dissertation,



Introduction 19

which was subsequently published.37 Sung Dong Hwan studied the Zen Buddhist temple locations of geomantic significance during the Late Silla dynasty in Korea.38 Won-suk Choi studied pibo 裨補 or the geomantic ideas of reinforcing or moderating the deficiencies of a geomantic landscape in an auspicious site by artificial means.39 A revised and enlarged version of his PhD dissertation is published as Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu-wa Pibo: Yŏngnam Chibang Pibo Kyŏnggwan-ŭi Yangsang-gwa T’ŭksŏng (Geomancy and Geomantic Reinforcement in Korea: The Patterns and Characteristics of Geomantically Reinforced Landscapes in Kyŏngsang Province).40 His work is a milestone in the study of geomantic thought in Korea. Yoon Chun Keun, a professor of Korean philosophy, published his book, P’ungsu-ŭi Ch’ŏlhak (The Philosophy of Geomancy).41 In his book, Yoon Chun Keun converted rather complicated and ambiguous geomantic concepts and terms into plain modern Korean, producing an easy-to-comprehend summary of the metaphysical aspects of geomantic thought. He pointed out that classical Chinese geomantic thought clearly reflects the Chinese cultural and philosophical tradition. However, he did not consult any of a number of well-known works written in Western languages on the subject. In 2013 Ahn Youngbae completed his PhD dissertation on the development of compass school principles during the Koryŏ dynasty and the early Chosŏn dynasty.42 It is a good contribution to researches in the development of geomantic principles in Korea. The above discussion about the history of research into Korean geomancy is based mainly on books or monographs of research into various aspects of Korean geomancy. There are many other works on Korean geomancy other than the abovementioned works, including academic articles and journalistic essays. Most of these works have been published since the mid-1980s. In summarizing research publications on geomancy by academic fields, we realized that more than 50 percent (73 out of 140) of academic journal articles published in Korea were authored by scholars in the fields of geography, architecture, landscape architecture, and city planning. This may demonstrate that the theory and practice of geomancy in Korea have been closely related to the academic fields dealing with environmental and spatial issues. Their main research interests lie in landscape planning, building design, and settlement and grave site selections. Articles on geomancy by writers from Korean literature demonstrate the importance of geomancy in Korean literature and the Korean mindset or geomentality. Geomancy has not only been an important motive in Korean folklore (oral literature), but also in other forms of literature such as poetry and novels. In contrast to the research mentioned above, contemporary historians’ research into geomancy is not very active, although a prominent historian, Yi Pyŏngdo, produced in 1947 a monumental research work on the importance of geomancy in Korean society during the Koryŏ dynasty. This demonstrates that contemporary scholarship in Korea emphasizes the spatial dimensions of geomancy but not its time dimension. To understand the role of geomancy in Korean culture, we need to study the spatial dimensions as well as the temporal dimensions of the art.

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Notes   1. Marvin W. Mikesell, “Cultural Ecology,” in Focus on Geography: Key Concepts and Teaching Strategies, ed. Phillip Bacon, 40th Yearbook (Washington, DC: National Council for the Social Studies, 1970), 39–61.   2. Credit for the translation of the Sŏun’gwan as the “Bureau for Recording Clouds” goes to Professor Christopher Cullen, Needham Research Institute, Cambridge, UK. His suggestion for this rendering is based on a passage in the Zuozhuan (Commentary of Zuo) from the fifth regnal year of Duke Xi of Lu: “At the solstices, equinoxes and at the starts of the seasons, one must record the phenomena of the clouds 凡分至啟閉必書雲物.”   3. On presentism, see David Hackett Fischer, Historians’ Fallacies: Toward a Logic of Historical Thought (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1971), 135; George W. Stocking, Jr., “On the Limits of ‘Presentism’ and ‘Historicism’ in the Historiography of the Behavioural Sciences,” Journal of the History of the Behavioural Sciences 1.2 (1965): 215; and Herbert Butterfield, The Whig Interpretation of History (London: G. Bell and Sons, Ltd., 1963 [1931]).   4. David Livingstone, The Geographical Tradition (Oxford, UK: Blackwell, 1992), 4.   5. Yoon Hong-key, The Culture of Fengshui in Korea: An Exploration of East Asian Geomancy (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2006), 311.   6. Jacques Lemoine, foreword to An Anthropological Analysis of Chinese Geomancy, by Stephan D. R. Feuchtwang, Collection Connaissance de l’Asie, vol. 1 (Vientiane, Laos: Editions Vithagna, 1974; reprint: Bangkok: White Lotus, 2002), 1, stated that “If there is a subject which should have captivated Western sinologists, it is Chinese geomancy.”  7. Fengshui (geomancy) is labeled a “purely superstitious” system by Joseph Needham in his monumental work, Science and Civilisation in China, vol. 4.1 (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1962), 240; as the “rudiments of natural science of China” by Ernst Johann Eitel in his book, Feng-shui: Or, the Rudiments of Natural Science in China (Hong Kong: Lane, Crawford & Co., 1873), title page; and as a “quasi-scientific system of China” by Jan Jakob Maria de Groot in his book, The Religious Systems of China, Its Ancient Forms, Evolution, History and Present Aspect, Manners, Customs and Social Institutions Connected Therewith, vol. 3 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1897), 935.   8. Emilie Savage-Smith, “Geomancy in the Islamic World,” in Encyclopaedia of the History of Science, Technology, and Medicine in Non-Western Cultures, ed. Helaine Selin (Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1997), 361.   9. Henri Doré, S. J., Recherches sur les superstitions en Chine, trans. M. Kennelly, S. J., Researches into Chinese Superstitions, vol. 4 (Shanghai: T’usewei Printing Press, 1914), 402. 10. Needham, Science and Civilisation in China, vol. 4.1 (1962), 240. 11. Needham, Science and Civilisation in China, vol. 2 (1956), 259. 12. Maurice Freedman, “Geomancy: Presidential Address 1968,” Proceedings of the Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland for 1968 (London: Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, 1969), 5–15. 13. Maurice Freedman, “Geomancy and Ancestor Worship,” Chinese Lineage and Society: Fukien and Kwangtung (London: Athlone Press, 1966), 118–54. 14. Feuchtwang, Anthropological Analysis of Chinese Geomancy. 15. Rev. J. S. Gale, 1902, “Han-Yang (Seoul),” Transactions, Royal Asiatic Society, Korea Branch, vol. 2, part 2, 1–43. See especially pp. 5–6 in the Internet edition of the article. 16. Murayama Chijun, Chosen-no Fusui (Geomancy in Korea) (Seoul: Chosen Sotokufu, 1931).



Introduction 21

17. Yoon Hong-key, Geomantic Relationships between Culture and Nature in Korea (Taipei: Oriental Culture Service, 1976). 18. Oxford English Dictionary, vol. 4 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1933), 126. 19. Oxford English Dictionary, 2nd ed., vol. 6 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989), 461. 20. Ibid. 21. Century Dictionary, vol. 3 (New York: Century Co., 1889), 2, 494. 22. Judy Pearsall and Bill Trumble, The Oxford English Reference Dictionary (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 1955), 581. 23. Lesley Brown, ed., The New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, vol. 1 (Oxford, UK: Clarendon Press, 1993), 1,079. 24. Andrew March, “An Appreciation of Chinese Geomancy,” Journal of Asian Studies 27 (1968): 252–67. 25. This review section is a revised version of a part of “Chapter 3: The Introduction and Development of Geomancy in Korea” of my book, The Culture of Fengshui in Korea, 48–51. 26. Yi Pyŏngdo, Koryŏ Sidae-ŭi Yŏn’gu (A Study of the Koryŏ Period) (Seoul: Ŭryu Munhwasa, 1948). 27. Murayama, Chosen-no Fusui. 28. Yi Pyŏngdo, “Yijo Ch’ogi-ŭi Kŏndo Munje” (The Problem of Building the Capital during the Early Chosŏn Dynasty), Journal of the Chin-Tan Society 9 (1938): 30–85. 29. Yi, Koryŏ Sidae-ŭi Yŏn’gu (1948). 30. Ch’oe Pyŏnghŏn, “Tosŏn-ŭi Saeng’ae-wa Namal Yŏch’o-ŭi P’ungsu Chirisŏl: Sŏnjong-gwa P’ungsu Chirisŏr-ŭi Kwan’gye-rŭl Chungsim-ŭro Hayŏ” (The Life of Tosŏn and Geomantic Theory during the Late Silla and Early Koryŏ Dynasties: With a Focus on the Relationship between the Zen School and Geomancy), Han’guksa Yŏn’gu (Journal of Korean History) 11 (1975): 101–46. 31. Yoon, Geomantic Relationships between Culture and Nature in Korea. 32. Choi Changjo, Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu Sasang (Geomantic Thought in Korea), Tae’u Haksul Ch’ongsŏ Inmun Sahoe Kwahak (Daewoo Academic Ser. Humanities and Social Sciences), vol. 10 (Seoul: Minŭmsa, 1984). 33. Park Sea-ik, “P’ungsu Chirisŏl Palsaeng Paegyŏng-e kwanhan Punsŏk Yŏn’gu: Kŏnch’ug-eŭi Hamnijŏg-in Chŏgyong-ŭl Wihayŏ” (An Analytical Study of the Backgrounds and Origins of Geomancy: For Rational Application to Architecture) (PhD diss., Koryŏ Taehakkyo [Korea University], 1987); and Park Sea-ik, P’ungsu Chiri-wa Kŏnch’uk (Geomancy and Architecture) (Seoul: Kyŏnghyang Sinmun, 1997). 34. David J. Nemeth, The Architecture of Ideology: Neo-Confucian Imprinting on Cheju Island, Korea, University of California Publications in Geography, vol. 26 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987).35. David J. Nemeth, “Bright Yard, Maps from Cheju Island,” Landscape 25, no. 2 (1981): 20–21; David J. Nemeth, “Fengshui as Terrestrial Astrology in Traditional China and Korea,” in The Power of Place: Sacred Ground in Natural and Human Environments, ed. James A. Swan (Wheaton, IL: Quest Books, 1991), 215–34; and David J. Nemeth, “A Cross-cultural Cosmographic Interpretation of Some Korean Geomancy Maps,” Cartographica 30, no. 1 (1993): 85–97. 36. Kim Dukyu, Chosŏn P’ungsuhagin-ŭi Saeng’ae-wa Nonjaeng (The Lives and Debates of Geomancers during the Chosŏn Dynasty) (Seoul: Kungni, 2000). 37. Lee Mong Il, Han’guk P’ungsu Sasangsa Yŏn’gu (A Study of the History of Geomantic Thought in Korea) (Taegu, Korea: Irilsa, 1991).

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38. Sung Dong Hwan, “Namal Yŏch’o Sŏnjong Kyeyŏl Sach’ar-ŭi Ipchi Yŏn’gu” (A Study of the Sites of Zen Buddhist Temples during the Late Silla and Early Koryŏ Dynasties: A Geomantic Interpretation of the Nine Mountain Zen Schools) (PhD diss., Taegu Hyosŏng Kat’ollik Taehakkyo [Catholic University of Taegu-Hyosung], 1999). 39. Choi Won Suk, “Yŏngnam Chibang-ŭi Pibo” (Geomantic Reinforcement in Kyŏngsang Province) (PhD diss., Koryŏ Taehakkyo [Korea University], 2000). 40. Choi Won Suk, Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu-wa Pibo: Yŏngnam Chibang Pibo Kyŏnggwan-ŭi Yangsang-gwa T’ŭksŏng (Geomancy and Geomantic Reinforcement in Korea: The Patterns and Characteristics of Geomantically Reinforced Landscapes in Kyŏngsang Province) (Seoul: Minsogwon, 2004). 41. Yoon Chun Keun, P’ungsu-ŭi Ch’ŏlhak (The Philosophy of Geomancy) (Seoul: Nŏrŭmt’ŏ, 2001). 42. Ahn Youngbae, “Koryŏ Chosŏn Chŏn’gi Igip’a P’ungsu Yŏn’gu: Chiri Sinsŏ, Tongnim Chodam, Chiri Sinpŏb-ŭi Yuhaeng-ŭl Chungsim-ŭro” (A Study of Geomancy of the Liqi School during the Koryŏ and Early Chosŏn Dynasties: With a Focus on the Vogue for the Dili Xinshu, Donglin Zhaodan, and Dili Xinfa) (PhD diss., Won’gwang Taehakkyo [Wonkwang University], 2013).

2 The Eight Periods in the History of Korean Geomancy Hong-key Yoon

The main principles of geomancy seemed to have developed on the Loess Plateau and spread to outlying districts as the Chinese people and their culture spread throughout East Asia. The art of geomancy has always been such an important part of the Chinese way of life that any non-Chinese people brought into contact with Chinese culture would have been exposed to geomancy early on.1 The peoples outside North China (the hearth of geomantic art) applied geomantic principles to the land that are often qualitatively different from those applied on the Loess Plateau, where geomantic art originated. The geomantic principles adopted and used by Koreans retained the basic original characteristics of Chinese geomancy, even after it spread to Korea from China. These basic principles formed the foundation of the Korean geomantic belief system and have changed little. Korean geomancy represents the Korean interpretation and adaptation of Chinese geomantic principles suited to the Korean culture, reflecting particular Korean cultural, political, and physical aspects of the environment. The Korean culture and Korean environment are different from those of the Loess Plateau in China, and the developmental pattern of Korean history is different from that of China. For these reasons, Korean geomancy differs somewhat from Chinese geomancy. The diffusion and development of Chinese geomancy in Korea can be compared with the spread of Christianity in Korea. The pattern of diffusion and adoption of Christianity in Korea was quite different from what occurred in northern Europe or the islands of the Pacific Ocean. The Bible and Christian doctrines were interpreted differently, depending on local culture, and the level of emphasis on aspects of the Bible or doctrines varied. Therefore, we can compare the characteristics of Korean Christianity with those of other cultures such as Irish Catholicism or German Protestantism. Of course, Korean Buddhism and Confucianism can be understood in similar ways.

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As the Korean Christians did not rewrite or revise the Bible, Korean practitioners of geomancy did not change the geomantic principles that they imported from China. However, the interpretation, application, and emphasis of certain geomantic principles did change over time, and the practice of geomancy made a significant impact on Korean culture. The essence of Korean geomantic traditions is often better reflected, not in the principles of geomancy practiced in Korea per se, but in the application of the traditions within Korean society as reflected in Korean folklore and Korean geomantic prophecies. This is because folklore and geomantic prophecies represent unedited records of people’s lives and thoughts. Therefore, the analysis and interpretation of Korean folklore and folk life has been established as an effective way to identify the characteristics of Korean geomancy. The main discussion in this chapter starts with periodization in the history of Korean geomancy for an overview of the introduction, application, and development of geomancy in Korean culture. Here the history of geomancy is divided into eight periods, which the author thought was more meaningful than adopting the dynastic cycles. The development of Korean geomancy has often been examined by adopting the standard periodization of Korean history, through the sequence of dynastic successions from the Ancient Period through the Three Kingdoms Period (57 BC–667 AD), the Koryŏ 高麗 (918–1392) and Chosŏn dynasties 朝鮮 (1392–1910), to the present. Lee Mong Il’s recent study on the history of Korean geomantic thought, a PhD dissertation that adopted such periodization, may well be the first systematic attempt to survey the history of geomancy in Korea.2 However, the history of Korean geomancy can be more meaningfully described and understood if it is periodized according to the characteristics of the applications and impact of geomancy on Korean culture and society. The following is an initial attempt to identify meaningful periods in the development of Korean geomantic thought, based on the way geomantic principles were interpreted, emphasized, and applied to the Korean situation. My tentative proposal for a history of Korean geomancy in eight periods is:

1. From the time of introduction to the time toward the end of the Silla dynasty before Master Tosŏn, the geomancer-monk (from the ancient era to the ninth century)



2. From the time of Master Tosŏn to King Kojong of the Koryŏ dynasty (from the ninth century to 1259)



3. The paucity of practicing geomancy during the Mongol domination (1231–1356)



4. From King Kongmin of the Koryŏ dynasty, post-Mongol domination, to the fourth king of the Chosŏn dynasty, King Sejong (1351– 1450)



The Eight Periods in the History of Korean Geomancy



5. From King Sejo (r. 1455–1468) to the time before the rise of Sirhak or the Practical Learning School (1670)



6. From the Sirhak School to the end of the Chosŏn dynasty (1670–1910)



7. The period of Japanese colonial rule (1910–1945)



8. From the Liberation (1945) to the present

25

The following is a discussion of the characteristics of each of the eight periods. 1. From the Time of Introduction to the Time toward the End of the Silla Dynasty before Tosŏn, the Geomancer-Monk (from the Ancient Era to the Ninth Century) The question of when geomancy first spread from China to Korea has been briefly mentioned by several scholars. Some say it first became established in Korea toward the end of the Silla 新羅 dynasty (ca. 57 BC–935 AD).3 Yi Pyŏngdo, in his earlier work, argued that the introduction of geomancy to Korea occurred after Silla’s unification of Korea in 667 AD, when Korea had frequent contact with China.4 Later, Yi Pyŏngdo speculated that ancient Chinese symbols painted on the walls inside Koguryŏ 高句麗 tombs could be a sign of the introduction of geomancy during the Koguryŏ dynasty (38 BC–667 AD).5 Yi Chŭnghang has speculated that Chinese geomancy may have been introduced during the Koguryŏ dynasty along with the spread of Chinese literature (including the writing system), although he goes on to admit that it is not known when during the Koguryŏ dynasty Chinese literature was first introduced.6 It is my belief, however, that the art of geomancy arrived in Korea through initial cultural contact with northern China, and through trade and immigration between China and Korea well before the Koguryŏ dynasty (37 BC– 668 AD). In tracing the introduction of geomancy to Korea, it is important to examine two stories that appear in early historical sources from both China and Korea, as well as four other pieces of historical evidence relating to this topic. The two stories are:

1. Jizi’s (Kija’s) 箕子 migration to Korea, and



2. The way King T’alhae 脫解 of Silla acquired an auspicious house site. The four other historical points to consider are:



1. The formation of the four Han Chinese commanderies 漢四郡 (108 BC–313 AD) on the Korean Peninsula,

P’ungsu

26



2. The tomb paintings of four animal symbols that represent the four cardinal directions of Chinese geomancy in Koguryŏ tombs,



3. The city walls of Koguryŏ (Kungnae Walled City and Hwando Walled City), and



4. The construction of the Silla king Wonsŏng’s 元聖王 tomb (789 AD) at an auspicious site, which called for the removal of an already standing Buddhist temple, Kok Temple 鵠寺.

The two legends, which probably reflect historical events relating to the spread of geomancy from China to Korea, together with these four pieces of historical evidence provide six items that are significant to the discussion of when and how geomancy became established in Korea. I will attempt to discuss these six points in chronological order. Jizi’s Migration to Korea As previously discussed, the origin and evolution of Chinese geomancy may be traced back to prehistoric times. The idea that geomantic art played a very important role in ancient Chinese life in the selection of sites is shown in the “Shaogao 召誥” (Announcement of Duke Shao) section of the Shujing 書經, or the Classic of History. If this is so, it is possible that the diffusion of Chinese geomancy to Korea is as old as the introduction of Chinese culture to Korea. Cultural contact between Korea and China began long before the Three Kingdoms Period, as indicated by archaeological evidence from the Chinese period of the Warring States (403–221 BC).7 In tracing the origin of the diffusion of Chinese culture to Korea, the story of Jizi’s exile to Korea becomes very important. This story appears in three places in old Chinese historical writings: Shangshu Dazhuan 尙書大傳 (Great Commentary on the Classic of History), Shiji 史記 (Records of the Grand Historian), and Hanshu 漢書 (Book of Han). According to the Shangshu Daquan, the story of Jizi (Kija in Korean) is as follows: “After King Wu [of Zhou] conquered Yin [about l050 BC] . . . he released Jizi, one of the prisoners. Jizi fled to Chosŏn [Korea], because he did not like the Zhou regime. When King Wu heard about it, he ceded Chosŏn to Jizi. Since Jizi was thus appointed [by the Zhou regime as the ruler of Chosŏn], he felt constrained to pay homage [to King Wu]. Thus, he appeared at the court [of Zhou] in the 13th year [of King Wu’s reign].”8 Other documents show a slightly different version of events from the Shangshu Dazhuan, but they are essentially the same in recording Jizi’s flight to Korea. Some versions of the story state that Jizi, a famous sage at the end of the Yin dynasty (the beginning of Zhou), taught King Wu about the “Great Plan, with its nine divisions.”9 Other versions tell us that Jizi civilized his people by teaching morality, farming methods, and weaving. The important points about Jizi in these stories can be summarized as follows: a great Chinese sage, Jizi, fled to Korea to preserve



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his loyalty to the Yin dynasty, and in doing so, he brought Chinese culture to the Koreans. Whether or not it is based on historical facts, the Jizi story indicates an important aspect of early Chinese influence on Korean culture. Many Korean historians believe, however, that Jizi may not have gone to Korea. The significance of the story lies in the symbolic meaning behind it rather than in the truth or falsity of Jizi’s flight to Chosŏn (Korea).10 The story represents the probability that, since ancient times, many civilized Chinese who disagreed with the political situation or atmosphere in their own country fled to Chosŏn and brought cultural knowledge with them. If some civilized Chinese had actually moved to Chosŏn during ancient times it is very possible that they took Chinese geomancy with them. This is only speculation. However, since archaeological evidence suggests that there was some Chinese influence in Korea during ancient times (especially since the Zhou dynasty), it is my belief that one should not simply dismiss the story as meaningless and false, whether or not one can disprove Jizi’s travel to Korea during the early part of the Zhou dynasty. The story serves to indicate the approximate beginning and ways in which ancient Chinese culture influenced Korea. Therefore, it is my hypothesis that geomancy, an important aspect of Chinese culture, was part of the initial flow of Chinese culture into Korea during ancient times. The newly introduced geomantic art may have become established by incorporating some native Korean ideas, but it retained a heavy Chinese influence. T’alhae (Silla) and the Auspicious Site Besides the story of Jizi, other stories and several tomb paintings support the theory of ancient diffusion of Chinese geomancy into Korea before the middle of the Silla dynasty. These stories, however, do not suggest that this diffusion was as old as the Jizi period. The story of T’alhae and the Auspicious Place appears to be the oldest tale about the practice of geomancy in Korea. Some may argue that the Tan’gun myth is the first mythological narrative that suggests the practice of geomancy in Korea, because the illegitimate son of God in heaven, Hwanung, before descending to earth, looked around the world for a livable place and settled on Korea. However, the Tan’gun myth does not mention specific geomantically auspicious sites, as does the legend of T’alhae (57–79 AD), the fourth king of the Silla dynasty, and thus may not be considered a geomancy tale. Samguk Yusa 三國遺事 (Memorabilia of the Three Kingdoms; 13th century), one of the two most ancient extant Korean historical writings, records the story of T’alhae and how he finds an auspicious place. When he was a young boy, T’alhae acquired a house in a crescent- or horseshoe-shaped place, an auspicious site in geomancy, by tricking the resident of the house, Lord Ho 瓠公. The story is as follows: A boy [i.e., the young T’alhae before he became king] hiked up Mt. T’oham with a walking stick and two servants, and made a stone tomb. He stayed

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on the mountain for seven days looking down over the [capital] city hoping to find a favourable place to live. Looking down on the city, he saw a place shaped like a crescent, which he decided was a worthy place in which to live. He went down to that place and found that it was owned by a person whose name was Lord Ho. Young T’alhae decided to trick Lord Ho by burying charcoal in the garden and telling him that the locale belonged to T’alhae’s ancestors. Lord Ho knew the claim was false and insisted that the land belonged to him, completely rejecting T’alhae’s claim. The ­argument, however, could not be settled without going to court. The court officer asked T’alhae how he could prove that the place was his ancestors’. T’alhae answered as follows: “My ancestors were blacksmiths. When they temporarily moved to a neighbouring area, this stranger took our house site. If you [the officer] dig the soil in the garden, it will be proved.” The officer did so and found charcoal, which he took as evidence of the previous existence of a blacksmith shop. T’alhae was thus able to obtain the place and live there. [Thanks to its auspiciousness, T’alhae became a king of the early Silla dynasty.]11 This tale has two important geomantic aspects. One is that T’alhae had the desire to live in a favorable place. The other is that the favorable place to live was shaped like a crescent, which represents an auspicious site. The auspicious place was obviously described in geomantic terms, since a place surrounded by mountains (like a horseshoe) is usually an auspicious place. Thus, the legend can be seen to support the existence of geomantic concepts in the early Silla period. That T’alhae took the house site by tricking the former owner clearly reflects the ancient idea of Koreans fighting over auspicious sites through various means. This story was collected and recorded by the Buddhist monk Iryŏn during the thirteenth century based on oral history and folklore, and might not be regarded as an accurate historical record. Dating the exact origin of oral history and folklore material is problematic and normally has proven to be impossible. However, some relative time dating on oral traditions is possible, and for such purposes the researchers often adopt the relative dating methods of terminus ante quem (the time before which) and terminus post quem (the time after which). Terminus ante quem refers to the time before which an oral history or folklore material definitely existed; the evidence often comes from a written historical document or archeological evidence. In case of the story of T’alhae the terminus ante quem is Samguk Yusa (thirteenth century). This means th at the story must have existed quite some time before collecting the oral tradition for publication in the written book during the thirteenth century, but we do not know precisely for how long. Thus the story is certainly older than the thirteenth century (terminus ante quem) and is later than 57–79 AD (terminus post quem, which in this case the time of King T’alhae). This story could indicate the possibility that geomancy already existed in Korea at the



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time of King T’alhae, although it is not certain. Having discussed the historical data from the two legends above, let us now examine the four other historical situations that can provide clues as to how and when Chinese geomancy might have been introduced to the Korean Peninsula. the formation of the han chinese commanderies (108 bc–313 ad) Geomancy must have been introduced to Korea during the initial wave of cultural contact between China and Korea. By the first century BC, China had established the so-called “Four Commanderies of the Han Dynasty” (108 BC–313 AD) in an area that included the northwestern part of the Korean peninsula. It must have been around this time that Chinese culture was introduced to Korea. This period occurred before the writing of the Book of Burial, or Zangjing 葬經, the key classic in geomancy by Guo Pu 郭璞 (276–324). However, the basic idea of using geomancy to search for auspicious places already existed in ancient China before Guo Pu’s time, and in the Han dynasty period there is clear evidence of the practice of geomancy. the murals in the koguryŏ tombs of four animal symbols representing the four cardinal directions of chinese geomancy The Koguryŏ tomb paintings show four animal symbols that represent the four cardinal directions of Chinese geomancy: the Black Tortoise, the Red Bird, the White Tiger, and the Azure Dragon. Yi Pyŏngdo comments that the poses represented in the animal pictures suggest that Chinese geomancy may have arrived in Korea during the middle period of the Koguryŏ dynasty. The basis of his speculation is that the postures of the four guardian animals in the Koguryŏ tomb paintings match the geomantic principles stated in classical geomantic literature, Zangshu 葬 書 (Zangjing). On this he stated:12 I wonder whether those (the symbol paintings of four directions) on the walls (inside the tombs) were the result of the influence of geomantic ideas. Commenting on the Great Tomb (大墓) and the Middle Tomb (中墓) in Kangsŏ (江西) that are most clear (best preserved) in colour, the dancing pose of the red bird on the southern wall, the undulating pose of the azure dragon with powerful feet on the eastern wall, the pose of stretching out and putting the heads of the turtle and snake together in the painting of the black warrior, and others are in accordance with the expressions of (the geomantic principles in) Zangshu (the Book of Burial), such as the red bird must bounce and dance; the azure dragon must be undulating and the black warrior must stretch and bend its head.

Figure 2.1. Chujak or Red Bird indicating the south direction in the Great Tomb of Koguryŏ in Kangsŏ (presently in North Korea). Photograph from Chosŏn Kojŏk Tobo [朝鮮古跡圖譜; Collection of Korean Cultural Assets Remains], 1934 edition.

Figure 2.2. Ch’ŏngnyong or Azure Dragon indicating the east direction in the Great Tomb of Koguryŏ in Kangsŏ (presently in North Korea). Photograph from Chosŏn Kojŏk Tobo [朝鮮古跡圖譜; Collection of Korean Cultural Assets Remains], 1934 edition.

Figure 2.3. Hyŏnmu or Black Warrior (Turtle) indicating the north direction in the Great Tomb of Koguryŏ in Kangsŏ (presently in North Korea). Photograph from Chosŏn Kojŏk Tobo [朝鮮古跡圖譜; Collection of Korean Cultural Assets Remains], 1934 edition.

Figure 2.4. Paeko or White Tiger, the guardian animal of the west direction in the Great Tomb of Koguryŏ in Kangsŏ (presently in North Korea). Photograph from Chosŏn Kojŏk Tobo [朝鮮古跡圖譜; Collection of Korean Cultural Assets Remains], 1934 edition.

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Indeed what Yi Pyŏngdo said about the Koguryŏ paintings is a perceptive and reasonable assessment. The Red Bird, Azure Dragon, and Black Tortoise in the Koguryŏ tomb paintings match geomantic principles in terms of the directions indicated as well as their poses. In particular, the Red Bird in the painting appears to be dancing in the air by stretching both its wings upward as if flying. This picture literally matches the geomantic principle stated in the Zangshu, that the Red Bird must bounce and dance.13 However, Yi Pyŏngdo in the above statement does not mention the pose of the White Tiger in the Koguryŏ paintings. Why did he not comment on it? Perhaps its pose in the painting was as powerful as that of the Azure Dragon and perhaps he thought it did not agree with geomantic principles. Indeed the pose of the White Tiger in the ancient Koguryŏ painting was as powerful as that of the Azure Dragon. It is noticeable that the White Tiger’s pose, similar to that of the Azure Dragon, is a geomantically desirable pose and accords with geomantic principles. This is because the Zangshu states that both the Azure Dragon and the White Tiger represent the two outstretched arms of the main mountain. The Zangshu said that the Azure Dragon should be undulating and the White Tiger should be sitting low (in a straddling position).14 This statement metaphorically describes both of the parallel protective hills’ undulating landform. These are the poses of the animals in the tomb paintings (see figures 2.1–2.4). For these reasons I support Yi Pyŏngdo’s view. The posture of all four animal icons in the Koguryŏ tomb painting match well with the geomantic principles expressed in the ancient geomantic manual, Zangshu, and support the view that geomancy was introduced to Korea from China by at least the middle part of the Koguryŏ dynasty (37 BC–668 AD). It is interesting that although they evidently used geomantic concepts on the inside of the Koguryŏ tombs, there is no clear evidence of geomantic harmony of landforms outside. However, the general location of the Koguryŏ tombs near Hwando Walled City (Wandu Walled City in Manchuria) is located on geomantically desirable land with background hills and water in front. When taking into account the above examples, we can speculate that geomancy may have arrived in Korea long before the middle of the Three Kingdoms Period. It probably arrived with the initial flow of Chinese culture into Korea. As discussed earlier, the story of Jizi is significant to the study of initial cultural contacts between China and Korea because it suggests the approximate time of the introduction of Chinese culture to Korea. the city walls of koguryŏ (kungnae walled city and hwando walled city) According to the Samguk Sagi 三國史記 (History of the Three Kingdoms), the early kings of Koguryŏ and Paekche 百濟 examined the landscape to select sites for the capitals of their kingdoms.15 Their site selections met the important conditions of geomantically auspicious places, although the Samguk Sagi did not state that those places were selected in terms of geomancy. Therefore, we can speculate that geomancy possibly played an important role in choosing locations for the capitals of



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Figure 2.5. The surrounding hills of Hwandosŏng, the mountain fortress of the Koguryŏ dynasty on the Yalu River. The hills surround the walled city in a horseshoe shape, which is a critically important geomantic condition for an auspicious place. Photograph by Hongkey Yoon, June 2002.

Koguryŏ and Paekche. The location and surrounding hills of Hwando Walled City provided a textbook example of a geomantically auspicious site. king wonsŏng’s tomb (789) at the kok temple site (ch’oe ch’iwon) At the latest, Chinese geomancy was clearly being practiced seriously in Korea by the 700s. By this time, if not much earlier, the art of geomancy had penetrated deeply into the Korean mentality. In particular, it was adopted by royal and aristocratic societies as well as Buddhist communities. In an inscription by the famous scholar of Silla, Ch’oe Ch’iwon 崔致遠, on the Stele of Sungbok Temple 崇福寺碑 (Sungboksabi), it is recorded that in 798 AD when King Wonsŏng died, the court built his tomb at the Buddhist temple, Kok Temple, by forcefully removing the existing temple building.16 This measure was carried out in spite of strong opposition to the plan. This historical event clearly demonstrates how seriously geomancy was taken by the royal families and Buddhists who fought over the occupation of an auspicious site. If geomancy was taken so seriously and had become so popular in Korea by this time, it must have been introduced much earlier, perhaps centuries prior. During the Unified Silla Period, many Buddhist temples were built on geomantically auspicious sites. In the later parts of the Unified Silla Period, the practice of geomancy became increasingly popular and Korean society in general took the art seriously. This conjecture is supported by the Koryŏ king T’aejo’s warnings that constructing numerous temples all over Korea at the end of the Silla dynasty had caused its downfall.17 Concluding Remarks On the Initial Stage of Geomancy in Korea By considering the above two legends and four other historical events relevant to the practice of geomancy in Korea, I would like to summarize my views on the introduction and development of geomancy in Korea at the time of Master Tosŏn

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(827–898). Since geomancy has always been part of the Chinese culture that developed on the Loess Plateau, it follows that geomancy was probably introduced to the Korean Peninsula via the early waves of Chinese cultural diffusion to Korea. In the study of this early diffusion of Chinese culture, the story of the Chinese sage Jizi’s migration to Korea is important, even though it is not historically reliable. The story has symbolic and metaphorical value as it signifies the time and method of the diffusion of Chinese culture to Korea. The practice of geomancy in Korea must have been reinforced by the Chinese who brought their culture with them to the Han Chinese commanderies (108 BC–313 AD) on the northwestern part of the Korean peninsula. From that time onward the practice of geomancy spread widely in Korea. By the eighth century the practice of geomancy was so popular and so seriously practiced among the Korean people that a well-established Buddhist temple in a geomantically auspicious site was removed to make way for a royal tomb. In such sociocultural environments, Master Tosŏn gained prominence as a geomancer-monk by introducing the geomantic art of reinforcing landscapes. 2. From the Time of Master Tosŏn to King Kojong of the Koryŏ Dynasty (from the Ninth Century to 1259) This period stretches from the time of the geomancer-monk and Zen master Tosŏn of the Silla dynasty to the end of Koryŏ dynasty (1392). The period covering the end of the Silla dynasty through the entire Koryŏ dynasty is characterized by the strong influence of geomancy on Korean politics. Geomantic issues were often at the top of the political agenda and exercised a stronger influence over Korean politics and society during that time than at any other in Korean history. An important characteristic of Koryŏ dynasty geomancy is that Tosŏn’s teachings and his prophecies often dominated geomantic discourses and practice of the time. Geomancy exercised enormous power in the building of palaces, planning of cities, and shifting of national capitals to new places. Master Tosŏn is certainly the best-known geomancer-monk throughout the entire history of Korea and is often considered the founding father figure of Korean geomancy. He was born in Yŏng’am County 靈岩郡, South Chŏlla Province, in 827 and is thought to have died in 898. He is considered to be the person responsible for introducing “the art of reinforcing the geomantic conditions through artificial means.” Master Tosŏn played an important role in locating Buddhist temples in geomantically auspicious sites throughout Korea (for more discussion on this issue, see the section on Buddhism and geomancy in this book). His role is backed by the phrase, “all Buddhist temples are built by considering the auspicious and inauspicious sites according to Monk Tosŏn’s evaluations” in Article 2 of the Koryŏ T’aejo’s Ten Injunctions 訓要十條 (Hunyo Sipcho). T’aejo, the first king of the Koryŏ dynasty, took geomancy seriously, and his strong faith in Buddhism and geomancy had a significant impact on politics throughout the Koryŏ dynasty.



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Figure 2.6. A portrait of Master Tosŏn in the Togapsa Buddhist Temple of Yŏngam County, South Chŏlla Province. Photograph by In-choul Zho, 2003.

The influence of Master Tosŏn was widely present in the practice of architectural and city construction techniques during the Koryŏ dynasty. Through the following historical evidence from the Koryŏsa 高麗史 (History of the Koryŏ Dynasty) we can catch a glimpse of how Tosŏn’s geomantic legacy influenced peoples’ lives as related to the construction of buildings and city planning: The Kwanhusŏ 觀候署 [Office of Examining the Weather] said: “Upon carefully examining the Tosŏn Milgi 道詵密記 [Secret Records of Tosŏn; presumably a confidential recording of Monk Tosŏn’s geomantic works], [it says] ‘where there are few mountains, build high buildings 高樓, and where there are many mountains, build low houses 平屋.’ Many mountains mean that the yin force is active. High buildings belong to the yang force while low houses to the yin force. Because our country is mountainous, if we build high buildings, they will certainly damage the energy of the land. Therefore, since the reign of King T’aejo, the construction of high buildings, not only in the palace but also among common people, has been prohibited. [I] was told that the Chosŏng Togam 造成都監 [Bureau of Capital Buildings] has built some structures which are several stories high

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and some houses which simply adopted the scale of Yuan dynasty architecture. This sort of construction is neither in accord with [the teachings of] Tosŏn, nor is it in accord with the commandments of King T’aejo [the first king] . . . Your majesty should consider fully this matter.” Then the king agreed. On the same day the king suddenly became ill. The ministers then requested a stop to the construction of the buildings and the palace eagles be released. The queen ordered such to be done.18 As revealed above, the geomancer-monk Tosŏn’s influence on Korean society during the Koryŏ dynasty was alarmingly real, and geomantic advice from a professional geomancer was a persuasive factor in limiting the heights of buildings and on the city landscape. Tosŏn’s geomantic authority was paramount and many geomantic books and prophecies claimed to be the authentic works of the geomancer-monk. The supposedly “secret” geomantic recording of Tosŏn, the Tosŏn Milgi, is one of the books that borrow his geomantic authority rather than being Tosŏn’s own work. In any case, he was perhaps the most respected and authoritative geomancer-monk in Korean history, and many geomantic modifications of Korean landscapes or cities and Buddhist temples were carried out in his name or claimed to be related to him somehow. Based on different geomantic prophecies and different interpretations of geomantic theories, the Koryŏ government was often embroiled in political debates and disputes over building new palaces or even shifting entire capital cities to places that were seen as more auspicious. These politically charged geomantic disputes that drained government resources were based on the geomantic theory of the waxing and waning of vital energy in a place, or a theory of reinforcing geomantic conditions through artificial means. The geomantic theory of the waxing and waning of vital energy in a place argues that the fortunes of places change as time passes due to changing conditions in the availability of vital energy. This happens no matter how auspicious the place may be. The main aim of the geomantic theory of the waxing and waning of vital energy 地氣衰旺說 (chigi soewangsŏl) was to predict the current and future state of the fortunes of well-known auspicious sites 明堂 (myŏngdang in Korean and mingtang in Chinese), especially that of the capital city. This theory encouraged the Koryŏ government to build separate palaces in Seoul, P’yŏng’yang (current capital of North Korea), and elsewhere. It was mainly due to the influence of this theory during the Koryŏ dynasty that political disputes and struggles erupted among different factions regarding the plan to shift the capital from Kaegyŏng 開京 (presentday Kaesŏng) to Sŏgyŏng 西京 (present-day P’yŏng’yang). Eventually these events fueled the Myoch’ŏng Rebellion (1135–1136). The influential monk Myoch’ŏng 妙 淸 (?–1135) attempted to persuade King Injong (1122–1146) to abandon Kaegyŏng and move the capital to present-day P’yŏng’yang, arguing that the vital energy of Kaegyŏng was waning while that of P’yŏng’yang was waxing. He also petitioned the king to declare him emperor and to assert equality with Song China. When



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this plan failed, he decided to achieve his goal by force and revolted against the central government in Kaegyŏng. He declared his newly formed state Taewi 大爲 國 (Nation of Great Achievement), but his nationalistic and geomantic revolt was short-lived, lasting less than a year. The Geomancer-Monk, a New Combined Profession of Geomancy and Buddhism Throughout the history of the Koryŏ and Chosŏn dynasties, many Korean Buddhist monks were also experts on geomancy. The most famous one among them was Tosŏn 道詵, who introduced geomantic re-enrollment techniques to Korea and has been famous for his geomantic prophecies ever since. Tosŏn is known to Koreans as a mysterious monk-geomancer, and Korean geomancers past and present have considered him the patriarch of Korean geomancy and the ultimate authority on geomantic prophecy. However, most information about him comes from legends rather than from historical documents. It is said that he became a monk at the age of fifteen and that he was a brilliant student of Buddhism. It is also said that he wrote the Tosŏn Pigi 道詵 秘記 (Record of Monk Tosŏn’s Secret Know-How), an influential book of geomantic prophecy that heavily influenced the politics of the Koryŏ dynasty. Tosŏn’s family name was Kim and his pseudonym was Ongnyongja 玉龍子. master tosŏn, the first korean geomancer-monk Master Tosŏn has often been quoted and his life discussed in various books on geomantic prophecies in Korea over the last 1,000 years or so. He became the catalyst for blending geomancy with Buddhism in Korea and was the first well-known geomancer-monk. Since his time there have been numerous geomancer-monks, but no one can claim to be more important than Master Tosŏn on the matter of blending geomancy with Buddhism in Korea. There is no extant biography of Master Tosŏn, and much of the known biographical sketch is based on the Stele of Tosŏn 先覺國師碑 (Sŏn’gak Kuksabi), Tosŏn Kuksa Sillok 道詵國師實錄 (Annals of Master Tosŏn) and orally transmitted legends about his life and work. Much of this information dates from long after his death and is thought to have been heavily edited to give many of his deeds a mysterious and supernatural appearance. Although these records are the only available sources of information about him, they are not reliable, accurate historical records. Of the records about him academics consider the Stele of Master Tosŏn 玉龍子碑 (Ongnyongjabi) to be the most reliable, conveying a relatively detailed account of his life. According to the Stele of Master Tosŏn, he was born in present-day Yŏng’am, South Chŏlla Province, in 827, in the second year of King Hŭngdŏk’s reign during the last period of the Silla dynasty. It is assumed that he died in 898 during the second year of King Hyogong of the Silla dynasty.

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The various legends about the birth of Master Tosŏn can be classified into two categories. The first is that one night in a dream, his mother (from the Kang family) received a marvel (jewel) from a person and swallowed it.19 After this event, she became pregnant and gave birth to Master Tosŏn. When he grew up, he showed a strong interest in Buddhism and the parents allowed him to become a Buddhist monk. The second is that a girl in Yŏng’am found an unusually big cucumber in the vegetable garden and ate it. After this she became pregnant and gave birth to Master Tosŏn. This second legend is more widely distributed in Korea, but has two different versions: one from Yŏng’am and one from Hwasun, although the versions share the same motives and the same story plot. Here is an example from Yŏng’am: Once upon a time, one Ch’oe had a fairly large farmland. In his vegetable garden, there was a cucumber, longer than 1 cha [about 30 cm]. People thought this was an extraordinary phenomenon. One day the daughter of Ch’oe ate the cucumber [some people say that the daughter of Ch’oe ate a cucumber that was floating down the stream, while she was washing clothes there]. After this, she became pregnant and in 10 lunar months’ time gave birth to a boy. However, the parents of the girl abandoned the baby in the woods in fear of their neighbours discovering that their notyet-married daughter had given birth to a baby. Seven days after that event, when the daughter of Ch’oe went to the forest to see what had happened to the baby, she found that the pigeons were protecting the baby under their wings. She reported what she saw to her parents. Her parents thought that this was an extraordinary phenomenon and they took the baby back and raised him. The baby became the Buddhist monk, Master Tosŏn.20 In this legend, the birth of Master Tosŏn is mythicized to a level similar to some of the founders of Korean kingdoms. This type of mythical legend is usually only found in the origin stories of heroes. This fact suggests that Master Tosŏn was thought of as a hero in Korean folk society. We know little about his real life and work for certain, but what is certain is that his life has been mythicized and his work has been exaggerated and glorified. According to the Stele of Master Tosŏn, Master Tosŏn left home to join Hwaŏm Monastery on Mt. Woryu at the age of fifteen and was ordained as a Buddhist monk at the age of twenty-three by the Zen master Hyech’ŏl 惠撤 of Mt. Tongni 棟 裏山.21 The Stele of Master Tosŏn also informs us that he met a sage (supernatural being) at Mt. Chiri 智異山 before the age of twenty-nine and from the sage learned about the principles of geomantic landscapes. The story on the Stele of meeting a sage-geomancer may indicate that Tosŏn learned the newly introduced Chinese geomantic principles from a Korean monk who studied geomancy in China or a Chinese monk traveling to Korea. The Korean monks who studied in China often brought new geomantic information back with them to Korea. This mythicized



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information is highly unreliable, but may indicate that he became an expert in geomancy before the age of twenty-nine. It is almost certain that he exercised an enormous influence over building Buddhist temples in geomantically critical places in Korea to correct the shortcomings of local geomantic conditions. This conjecture is supported by the numerous temples in Korea that are claimed to have been built (or to have had their sites selected) by Master Tosŏn, and also by the first king of the Koryŏ dynasty, T’aejo Wang Kŏn, in his Ten Injunctions (to be discussed later). geomancer-monks who feature in geomancy tales In geomancy tales, Buddhist monks who were also experts in geomancy often selected auspicious sites for people. Geomancer-monks feature in legends in several ways. One example is a traveling monk who knows geomancy well and passes a certain place while muttering to himself about an auspicious site in that place. The local people overhear this and appeal to him to let them know the location of the site, giving various reasons as to why they need and deserve such a site. The following legend about Chŏnghwa Tomb is an example of this: “While the first king of the Chosŏn dynasty Yi Sŏnggye [before enthronement] was looking for an auspicious grave site for his father who had just passed away, an older monk and a younger monk were passing by the mountain where he was thinking of burying his father’s corpse. While in conversation, the older monk told the younger monk that the lower site was good enough to produce high government ministers, but that the upper site was bound to produce a king.”22 A little boy who overheard the conversation told Yi Sŏnggye, who immediately chased the two monks and requested they show him where those sites were. The two monks went back to the mountain with Yi Sŏnggye and told him the upper of the two sites would produce a king, while the lower would produce ministers. Taking the monks’ advice, Yi Sŏnggye took the upper site for the burial of his father. The grave is the Chŏnghwa Temple in Hamhŭng District and Yi Sŏnggye became the first king of the Chosŏn dynasty. Buddhist monks during the Chosŏn period mainly lived in remote mountainous areas and frequently came down to villages and towns to collect alms. When they visited other temples, they had to walk long distances. The traveling monk was the rural people’s image of Buddhist monks during the Chosŏn dynasty. When monks who were knowledgeable about geomancy traveled and passed by certain places, they naturally may have talked about the conditions of the auspicious sites that they passed. They also often evaluated landscapes geomantically and commented on the existence of auspicious sites in such places. It is easy to conjecture that people who overheard such comments would then ask the monks for help in finding an auspicious site. It seems that the above legend reflects the social environment in Korea during the Chosŏn dynasty. The second type of Buddhist monk to feature in geomancy tales were those who were helped by good people. A typical summary of such a tale is that a h ­ ungry

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monk is well fed and looked after by a good person, and selects an auspicious site for this person as repayment for their kindness. The following tale from South Chŏlla Province is an example: To the west of Saja Monastery, Temple of the Lion on Mt. Mirŭk, there is Changgun Peak, the Army General Peak. To the south of this peak is Kwaedŭng, the prominently convex hill. This hill was an extraordinarily auspicious site. The Chief Monk of Temple of the Lion, Minil, was knowledgeable about geomancy. One day he went down to a village where he was well treated by a poor farmer. As a reward for the good deeds of the poor farmer, the monk told him about an auspicious site at Kwaedŭng and advised him to lay a coffin not too deep from the ground surface and make an earthen mound over the burial. A rich man overheard this conversation and decided to bury his ancestor on that auspicious site. However, he only heard that he should make a mound over the burial, and missed the instruction that the grave pit should be shallow. The rich man dug the grave pit deep and laid a coffin there, and he did not receive any benefit from the auspicious site and lost his fortune. The poor man made a shallow grave pit as the monk instructed on the same site and became a rich man.23 This type of legend is widespread throughout Korea. It seems to manifest the Buddhist virtue of charity by conveying that an ethical person will be rewarded with an auspicious site. This type of legend clearly demonstrates that ethical values are incorporated into the practice of geomancy in Korea. The fact that the geomancer-monk repaid a charitable person by telling him about an auspicious site indicates that geomancy and Buddhism were blended into one folk belief system. The fact that there were Buddhist monks who were also expert geomancers, as well as the fact that Buddhist temples were built on geomantically important sites, clearly indicates that geomancy was embraced by, and had a significant impact on, Buddhism in Korea. Geomancy and Buddhist Temples during the Koryŏ Dynasty The intimate relationship between geomancy and Buddhism is clearly demonstrated when looking at the locations of Buddhist pagoda and temple sites. Surviving Buddhist temples and pagodas that were built during or before the Chosŏn dynasty were either built on geomantically auspicious sites, or on geomantically important sites to improve the shortcomings of the local geomantic landscapes. In Korea, the first written record regarding the placing of Buddhist temples on auspicious sites is the Stele of Sungbok Temple, written by Ch’oe Ch’iwon.24 This writing included many special geomantic terms, as well as the name of the early Chinese geomancer. According to these engravings, in the year 798, when King Wonsŏng passed away, a



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Buddhist temple called Kok Temple was removed, despite many objections, to make room for the royal tomb to be placed on that site. When we consider that there was conflict between Buddhist temples and royal tomb makers over geomantically auspicious sites, we can conclude that geomancy must have been introduced to Korea long before the eighth century of the Silla dynasty. Many temples during that time were built on sites chosen by applying geomantic principles. The first record of placing temples on sites to make up for geomantic shortcomings is in the ten injunctions given by the first king of the Koryŏ dynasty. koryŏ t’aejo’s faith in geomancy and the construction of buddhist temples During the summer of the year 943, the first king of the Koryŏ dynasty dictated ten injunctions. The second article of these injunctions clearly indicates that Korean temple sites were chosen according to geomantic principles, as follows: Secondly, all temples were built by evaluating the auspiciousness and inauspiciousness of the landscape of Korea according to Master Tosŏn’s view. He said that if more [Buddhist] temples were built thoughtlessly in addition to the temple sites he had chosen, the dynasty would not last long. I feel that future kings, royal family members, queens and high government officers may desire their own private temples and that is what I am greatly worried about. During the last period of the Silla dynasty many temples were built and damaged the land energy of the nation. As such activities caused the dynasty to collapse eventually, how can we afford not to guard against this affair?25 As above, T’aejo strictly ordered his descendants not to build Buddhist temples without serious consideration of where to build them, for most temples of his time were placed in geomantically important sites in accordance with Master Tosŏn’s advice. This meant that there was already an adequate number of temples given the size and characteristics of the landscape in Korea at that time. However, T’aejo nevertheless constructed many Buddhist temples himself during his reign, despite having warned his descendants to be extremely careful in building additional temples. For instance, according to the Koryŏsa, in December 936, in the nineteenth year of his reign, T’aejo completed work on Kwanghŭng Temple, Hyŏnsŏng Temple, Mirŭk Temple, and Sach’ŏnwang Temple.26 These records clearly demonstrate that the first king of the Koryŏ dynasty constructed temples and pagodas on geomantically auspicious sites. However, we should not quickly assume T’aejo’s behavior resulted from his indulgence in geomancy. Clearly, it is reasonable to conjecture that he had some faith in geomancy. However, there are some indications that T’aejo may have used the art of geomancy and Buddhism for political gain, controlling the public attitude toward his newly

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established kingdom through the use of these two popular belief systems. Attracting the peoples’ support must have been a priority for him to wage war against rival states. During the time when T’aejo was unifying Korea, the wider society was in turmoil and many prophecies or rumors were circulating throughout the public arena. Many of these prophecies and rumors were related to geomancy or Buddhism. The first king, T’aejo, knew this well, and attempted to influence public opinion by constructing temples and pagodas in geomantically auspicious sites that were frequently mentioned in prophecies and rumors. The following record in Pohanjip 補閑集 (Supplement to A Collection to Relieve Idleness), by Ch’oe Cha 崔滋, gives us an opportunity for insight into these circumstances: T’aejo was interested in geomancy and Buddhism during a time when he was establishing his Kingdom and warring against rivals. [At that time], his officer Ch’oe Ŭng told him of an old saying that one gains the people’s support by governing them with civility during times of instability and confusion. A person holding the position of king of a nation must practise and keep improving his own [Confucian] virtue of the literati, even during warfare. Ch’oe Ŭng said that he had not heard of anyone who was able to establish a dynasty by relying on Buddhism and geomancy alone. T’aejo replied to Ch’oe Ŭng’s suggestion: “How can I not know such a saying? However, the mystic power of our nation’s landscape [land energy] is in a ruinous state and the natural tendency of the people is to rely on Buddhist gods blessing their lives. The war has not yet finished and the future [of our nation] cannot be predicted [i.e., planned] for certain. I do not know how to deal with fear and overwhelming events that arise every morning and evening. Therefore, I was hoping that the blessings of Buddhist gods and the mysterious power of the land energy might be effective, even temporarily. How can I adopt the art of geomancy and faith in Buddhism as a means of governing the nation and winning the people’s support? When the war is over and the nation is in peace, the people’s customs [i.e., ways of doing things] will have to be corrected and educated to the degree of beauty.”27 This record suggests T’aejo may have attempted to win support for his newly established kingdom by appealing to the people of the Korean peninsula through practicing geomancy and Buddhism, both of which were liked and trusted. In summary, the above record suggests that his main motivation for practicing geomancy and Buddhism was as a political means to identify with the people and gain their support. He insisted that he was not indulging in the Buddhistic creed or geomantic art, but was only hoping that his faith in Buddhism and geomancy might benefit his military campaign against enemies. However, when we consider that he included and emphasized geomancy in the Ten Injunctions for his descendants, as well as



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building many temples by consulting geomancers during his reign, we cannot deny that his faith in geomancy was very strong. By saying, “How can I adopt the art of geomancy and faith in Buddhism as a means of governing the nation and winning the people’s support?” T’aejo may have intended to avoid confrontation with and criticisms from Ch’oe Ŭng, who was a Confucian scholar, rather than frankly expressing his genuine feelings toward the two popular belief systems of his time. Confucian scholars were generally rationalists and were often against Buddhism and geomancy, which they considered superstitious beliefs. T’aejo might be one of the best-known persons to have had a strong faith in both geomancy and Buddhism. His attempt to use Master Tosŏn’s geomantic prophecies 風水圖讖 (p’ungsu toch’am) with Buddhism for political purposes by influencing public opinion is an indication that geomancy and Buddhism were already closely associated at the beginning of the Koryŏ dynasty and lasted throughout the Koryŏ dynasty, with a paucity during the Mongol domination. 3. The Paucity of Practicing Geomancy during the Mongol Domination (1231–1356) From the first king, T’aejo (918–943) until the Mongol occupation of Koryŏ in 1231, geomantic prophecies exerted persuasive power over Koryŏ politics. Kings and the ruling class then seriously practiced geomancy by considering the relocation of the capital city for geomantic reasons or constructing detached secondary palaces in auspicious places suggested in various geomantic prophecies.28 They also carried out various geomantic reinforcement projects over the national landscape. They did these works to enhance the geomantic quality of national territory to ensure the longevity of the dynasty and the stability of the ruling power. However, these discussions and the actual carrying-out of such geomantic work stopped altogether during the Mongol occupation of Korea. Most parts of Korea were practically under Mongol military occupation from 1231, and it was under this political domination that the Korean king surrendered to the Mongol Empire in 1259 after long resistance from the Kanghwa Island. The Mongol control of Korea lasted until 1356. During this Mongol political domination, although Korean kings ruled Korea, the Mongol governor 達魯花赤 (darughachi) advised and supervised Korean kings and their governments. Most Korean kings during the Mongol domination had to marry Mongol princesses and accept Mongol supremacy over Korea and accept their advice. Under this circumstance, the practice of geomancy declined dramatically, seemingly due to Mongol interference and supervision, although the Koryŏ government, which took refuge on a small island, Kanghwa Island, apparently had some geomantic considerations regarding the palace in exile.29 However, Pae Chongho, a well-known scholar of Korean philosophy, argued that this sudden paucity of geomantic works was due to Mongol protection of the royal families and court that made such geomantic work unnecessary: “Thus, this [i.e., Mongol

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occupation] damaged the independent status of Koryŏ, but their protection of the royal family lines and royal court was guaranteed [by the Mongol occupiers]. Therefore, [Koryŏ kings] felt no need of worrying about the welfare and security of the dynasty and the royal lineage. [The Koryŏ government] naturally lost interest in geomantic prophecies and there were no discussions over the construction of detached secondary palaces or moving capital [to a more auspicious site for securing the well-being of the dynasty].”30 I feel that the above view is a rather naïve interpretation of the sociopolitical situation of Koryŏ under Mongol rule. Pae Chongho, in the above quotation, seems to have considered the internal factors in Korea by consulting Korean historical sources only. Pae Chongho’s interpretation ignores the then-mighty Mongol influence over Korean politics and the Mongols’ anti-Chinese culture and antigeomantic policies. Contrary to Pae Chongho’s interpretation, I suggest that the paucity of geomantic works during the Mongol occupation of Koryŏ was due to Mongol political control over Korea and their policies of antigeomancy, rather than due to the Koryŏ royal family’s feeling of security from Mongol protection. While governing the vast territory of China the Mongol rulers during the Yuan dynasty (1271–1368) systematically discriminated against ethnic Chinese and banned Chinese intellectuals from civil service, while they attempted to impose Mongol values on the Han Chinese people. It is a well-known fact that the Mongols suppressed Chinese culture and officially banned the practice of geomancy or fengshui in China until the Ming dynasty restored Chinese rule over China and Chinese values, including the practice of fengshui.31 The Mongol suppression of geomancy in China must have been applied to Korea as well during their domination of Korea. Before the Mongol occupation, Koryŏ kings often travelled to auspicious city site such as Namgyŏng (South Capital City; present-day Seoul) and Sŏgyŏng (Western Capital City) to stay for brief periods. These temporary residences were built to benefit from the vital energy of those geomantically auspicious cities outside the capital city. However, this practice of kings traveling to and taking temporary residence in such places stopped, along with other geomancy-related events, during the Mongol domination. This paucity of practicing geomancy must be due to a Mongol policy of suppressing geomancy. However, when the Mongol dynasty in China was in danger of collapse due to the rising Chinese dynasty of Ming and was ultimately removed from Korea, the Korean practice of geomancy resumed and debates over the building of detached and secondary palaces on supposedly auspicious sites returned. 4. From King Kongmin of the Koryŏ Dynasty, Post Mongol, to the Fourth King of the Chosŏn Dynasty, King Sejong (1351–1450) While he was the Crown Prince, King Kongmin married a Mongol princess and resided for a lengthy period in the Chinese capital of the Yuan Empire. Despite



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his Mongol connections, when he succeeded the throne in the year 1351, the new king attempted to remove the then much-weakened Mongol power from Korea. As a part of anti-Mongol policy he restored the pre-Mongol government bureaucracy and traditional Korean customs. As a sign of national rejuvenation he resurrected the use of geomancy and discretely sent out a geomancer to assess the geomantic conditions of Seoul and planned to move capital there. This plan must be related to a well-known geomantic prophecy saying that due to the auspicious quality of Seoul it deserved to be the capital for the next dynasty. The king built a new palace in Seoul during the ninth year of his reign and stayed there for five months. Subsequent Koryŏ kings such as King Wu also attempted to move the capital to Ch’ŏrwon or Hanyang 漢陽 (present-day Seoul) and repaired the city wall, while King Kong’yang seriously attempted to shift the capital to Seoul despite court officials’ objections. He shifted the capital to Seoul during the ninth moon of his second year after coronation. However, this shift was short-lived and he returned to the capital, Kaegyŏng, during the second moon in the third year of his reign. He was dethroned a year later and Yi Sŏnggye became the new king, opening the new Chosŏn dynasty in 1392. After King Kongmin, the three subsequent Koryŏ kings restlessly attempted to move the capital to new and better geomantically endowed places, and the geomantic debate over new capital sites and geomantic prophecies was a hot topic during the final period of the Koryŏ dynasty. Under this circumstance, Yi Sŏnggye, who became the first king of the new dynasty, was also eager to search for an auspicious site where he could build a new capital city fit for his new dynasty. He was rather obsessed with leaving the capital of the former dynasty, Kaegyŏng, which he had overthrown, and shifting the capital to a new auspicious place that would suitably symbolize his new dynasty and persuade people to approve it. In terms of the central government’s concerns with the geomantic qualities of the capital city and preoccupation with relocating it to a more auspicious place, the times of the last four kings toward the end of the Koryŏ dynasty and those of the first four kings of the Chosŏn dynasty (1351–1450) belong to the same historical period in the Korean history of geomancy, although they are divided by the two different dynasties. Soon after establishing the Chosŏn dynasty in 1392, the first king, T’aejo, started searching with the aid of geomancy experts for an auspicious new capital site that would be fit for his new dynasty. From the first king (r. 1392–1398) to the fourth king, Sejong (1418–1450), the geomantic issues relating to moving the capital to Seoul and the subsequent city-planning process were key to political discourse. When T’aejo was searching for an auspicious site for the new capital city, a Buddhist monk known as Master Muhak seems to have been deeply involved with the selection process, accompanying him on field trips to several potential sites. Clearly Muhak was the king’s key advisor on geomantic affairs, and he helped King T’aejo select the site of the new capital, which is present-day Seoul.

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Figure 2.7. Portrait of Master Muhak in the Sillŭgsa Buddhist Temple of Yŏju County, Kyŏnggi Province. Photograph by Professor In-choul Zho, 2009.

After T’aejo searched seriously for an auspicious capital site by consulting wellknown geomancers and geomantic literature, he eventually moved the capital from Kaegyŏng to Seoul. Chŏngjong, the second king (r. 1398–1400), however, shifted the capital back to Kaegyŏng, the capital of the previous dynasty. T’aejong, the third king (r. 1400–1418), moved the capital back to Seoul, which remains the capital of Korea to this day. Although Sejong, the fourth king of the Chosŏn dynasty (r. 1418–1452), did not consider moving the capital city elsewhere, he was deeply interested in geomancy and thus geomancy continued to have a strong influence over politics during this time. For instance, the following became political issues: whether the site of Kyŏngbok Palace was correctly located on an auspicious site, whether the geomantic veins from Mt. Paekgak to the palace site flowed soundly, and whether Mt. Inwang, the highest peak surrounding Seoul, was the main mountain of the city. King Sejong himself carried out fieldwork by climbing Mt. Paegak to examine the geomantic conditions of Seoul and evaluate conflicting opinions on this issue. It seemed that King Sejong’s private life and daily behavior were seriously influenced by geomancy.



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According to the Sejong Sillok (Annals of King Sejong), he often stayed at his relatives’ private homes for months at a time rather than in the Kyŏngbok Palace, because he was somewhat unhappy with some aspects of the geomantic conditions of the palace. King Sejong eventually died at the private residence of Prince Yŏng’ŭng in 1452. This rather strange behavior for a king of Korea was probably due to his strong belief in geomancy and his suspicion about the auspiciousness of Kyŏngbok Palace. The early part of the Chosŏn dynasty was somewhat similar to the Koryŏ dynasty in terms of geomantic thought, but the debates over geomantic issues were much more intense than in the later part of the Koryŏ dynasty, and geomantic influence on the sociopolitical issues of the time was paramount with the choice of the new capital site and its city planning. 5. From King Sejo (r. 1455–1468) to the Time before the Rise of Sirhak or the Practical Learning School (1670) The period after King Sejong, from King Sejo (r. 1455–1468) until the rise of Sirhak (1670), was marked by a geomancer-monk’s deep involvement in politics, but was otherwise relatively quiet in terms of geomantic issues in Korean politics and society in general. The main geomantic issues during this time were about auspicious tomb sites for royal families and grave sites among the commoners. During this period geomancy was disseminated to the common folks as well as royal families. The knowledge of geomancy became more widely available to all social strata, and the following geomancers, one who is a geomancer-monk and the other a Confucian scholar-geomancer, are worthy to note. Buddhist monk Sŏngji 性智 was heavily involved in court politics regarding geomancy, which ended in tragedy, while a Confucian named Nam Sago 南師古 came to be remembered as a legendary geomancer and folk hero for his practice of geomancy.32 Sŏngji (?–1623) Sŏngji was a famous Buddhist geomancer-monk during the reign of Prince Kwanghae (1609–1622) of the Chosŏn dynasty. Because the king loved and trusted him, he was very influential in politics. He advised the king that according to geomantic principles he should build a new palace in Seoul. He was killed after the king was deposed from his throne. Some geomancers, such as Muhak and Sŏngji, were persuasive advisers to kings and greatly influenced general decisions in government affairs. Nam Sago Nam Sago was a Confucian scholar during the reign of King Myŏngjong (1546– 1567). He was a master of the Yijing 易經 (Classic of Changes) geomancy, astronomy, and divination. It is said that he correctly prophesied many events and that

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he is claimed to be the author of Nam Sago Pigyŏl 南師古秘訣 (Secret Predictions of Nam Sago), a book of geomantic prophecies. Many Confucian scholars tended to accept the practice of geomancy in the search for auspicious grave sites as a way of expressing filial piety to deceased ancestors. This is why they embraced geomancy without being critical of the seemingly superstitious art. Korean Confucian scholars’ attitudes such as these may also reflect those of Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200), the great neo-Confucian scholar of the Southern Song dynasty of China, who embraced geomancy for locating auspicious sites for family graves. However, that endeavor may have been an expression of his desire to extract benefits (auspiciousness) from the grave sites for the living or future generations of descendants, rather than the welfare of deceased ancestors. Confucian Scholars’ Acceptance of Geomancy Many Confucian scholars of the Chosŏn dynasty were experts on geomancy and accepted the practice of geomancy to varying degrees, sometimes claiming that the great Confucian scholars of China, such as Confucius and Zhu Xi, accepted geomantic ideas. The founder of Neo-Confucianism, Zhu Xi seemed to have embraced geomancy, for he was interested in searching for auspicious grave sites for his family and wrote the Shanling Yizhuang 山陵議狀 ([Geomantic] Discourse on Imperial Tombs; Sallŭng Ŭijang in Korean), which was presented to the Chinese emperor in 1194.33 A Korean Confucian scholar-court officer, Ha Ryun, was an expert on geomancy and played an important role in searching for the new capital site during the reign of the first king of the Chosŏn dynasty (1392–1910). Another Confucian scholar–court officer of the early Chosŏn dynasty, Chŏng Inji, also had a good knowledge of geomancy and was involved in determining King Sejong’s original tomb site. The Annals of King Sejong includes Chŏng Inji’s letter reporting his geomantic fieldwork in examining the auspicious royal tomb site of Hŏn Tomb 獻陵 for the king. The beginning of his letter is translated here: This officer [Chŏng Inji] together with others [i.e., officers] went to the auspicious site to the west of Hŏn Tomb and surveyed the orientation and shapes of the main mountain and other surrounding hills and waters of the place. With the reference to a report submitted by somebody, I will discuss [the geomantic quality of the site] one by one as below: First, [the geomantic manual of] Sŭbyu 拾遺 stated: “In a place with a gentle and flat shape embracing a geomantic vein, the auspicious spot is located in the centre. In such a case, blessings will be gathered in the central site, while the fringe sites will cause the family [occupier] to perish.” [The geomantic manual of] Chihyŏnnon 至玄論 also stated that “The auspiciousness is in the centre, not in the fringe.” In Sŭbyu, the subsequent paragraph stated that “a flat site on high ground is the concave



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site surrounded by projected mountains that are extensions of low lying landforms, while a projected spot in a hollow land is the convex site in low land.” A commentary to this statement declared that “The centre of a place is the precious [the most auspicious] spot, but it does not need to be the [physical] centre of the place. The centre means the concave of the high ground and the convex of the low land. The qi 氣 [chi; vital energy] expresses itself depending on the feature [of the landscape].” The distance from the main auspicious site of Hŏn Tomb to the White Tiger [the mountain on the right side], the slope of Mt. Kuryong 九龍山 [Nine Dragon Mountain], is 3,264 ch’ŏk; to the slope of Mt. Ch’ŏngnyong [the mountain on the left side] is 1,873 ch’ŏk. The distance from the west auspicious site to the outer White Tiger is 2,328 ch’ŏk; to the slope of the Azure Dragon [the mountain on the right side] is 2,817 ch’ŏk; and to the inner table mountain, 2,751 ch’ŏk. The distance between the eastern and western auspicious sites is 944 ch’ŏk. Therefore both the eastern and the western auspicious sites are located in the centre of the geomantic landscape, not on the edge of the landscape. (Translated from the Sejong Sillok, the day of Dingwei [Chŏngmi in Korean], the fourth moon, twenty-seventh year of his reign.)34 His letter was based on a field survey conducted at the proposed royal tomb site by a group of court officers, including him. In his letter, Chŏng Inji listed eleven geomantic reasons (ten other reasons apart from the one quoted above) why the royal tomb should be made on a site at the present-day eastern outskirts of Seoul. His letter is a good example of the degree of geomantic knowledge held by the then-highly-esteemed Korean Confucian scholar–court officers, as it evaluated the geomantic quality of the proposed site using technical geomantic terms and citing specialized geomantic manuals (the beginning of the letter has been translated in the anthology section of this paper). Many Confucian scholars of the Chosŏn dynasty acquired some knowledge in geomancy and herbal medicine as a matter of common sense. Korean geomancy came from China and the principles that were applied in the search for an auspicious site are more or less identical to those of the Chinese. Geomantic classics and manuals used in Korea were generally either directly from China or were edited and translated versions of the Chinese texts. However, Koreans sometimes interpreted and applied the Chinese geomantic principles in a Korean context. One of the most important geomantic discourses in Korea is by Yi Chung-hwan (1690–1756), a Sirhak scholar during the Chosŏn dynasty. His book, the T’aengniji 擇里誌 (Book of Choosing Settlements) is a widely read Korean classic on choosing auspicious settlements and is sometimes treated by geomancers as secret geomantic literature. In his book, Yi Chung-hwan listed four important factors to be considered in the selection of an auspicious settlement site. (A more substantial discussion on Yi Chung-hwan’s geomancy is found

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in the house ­geomancy section of chapter III of my earlier book, The Culture of Fengshui in Korea.) The close relationship between geomancy and Korean Confucianism is also well reflected in the locations of Confucian academies throughout Korea. For instance, the Sŏnggyun’gwan 成均館, Korea’s National Confucian Academy in Seoul, is located in an obviously auspicious site. It is located between Korean palaces with appropriate background hills and an open front. These landform conditions fulfill the geomantic requirements. Various regional Confucian academies (hyanggyo 鄕 校) throughout Korea are generally located in geomantically chosen sites. For example, the site of Tosan Sŏwon, the Confucian academy in Andong commemorating Yi Hwang, the famous Confucian scholar of the Chosŏn dynasty, is known to be an auspicious site in terms of geomancy. In fact, Tosan Sŏwon is located on a site with background hills and a stream in front, which is considered a typically auspicious site in geomancy. This geomantic landscape is perceptively portrayed in a painting on the visitor information billboard of the Confucian Academy of Andong.

Figure 2.8. This visitor information billboard’s painting shows the Tosan Sŏwon complex. The hills on the left and right are White Tiger, and the small hill in front of the complex close Table Mountain. Thus the academy is located in an auspicious courtesy of Andong City Government, Korea.

the main mountain behind the Azure Dragon and the to the stream is called the geomantic site. Photograph



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6. From the Sirhak School to the End of the Chosŏn Dynasty (1670–1910) This period is characterized by strong criticism of the art of geomancy and the way it was practiced in Korea, particularly by the Confucian scholars who belong to Sirhak. For instance, Sirhak scholars of the later period of the Chosŏn dynasty, such as Yi Ik (1681–1763) in his masterpiece work, Sŏngho Sasŏl 星湖僿說 (Miscellaneous Discussions of Sŏngho), severely criticized the practice of geomancy. Chŏng Yagyong 丁若鏞 (1762–1836), another distinguished Sirhak scholar, recorded in his book, the Mongmin Simsŏ 牧民心書 (Book of Advice on Governing the People): “Presently, litigation in the courts for grave sites has become a troubling problem. About half of the [recent] fighting and assaults resulting in death are due to this [i.e., conflict over grave sites]. Since it is said that the unfortunate act of excavating graves [to move them to better places] is considered to be an act of filial piety by the people, it is necessary to clarify the situation by investigating these cases thoroughly.”35 Chŏng Yagyong listed types of adverse impacts of geomancy on people and argued that local magistrates should handle each court case relating to geomancy fairly and rationally after studying the situation carefully.36 To demonstrate the extreme and desperate Korean behavior of attempting to acquire an auspicious grave site, Chŏng Yagyong cited Chŏng Sŏn’s words: People who desire to bury their parents in auspicious places are violating private property rights by [illegally] occupying grave sites in hills belonging to others and sometimes digging out the bones of others’ ancestors [buried] in [auspicious grave sites]. This kind of behaviour causes great resentment among the people and leads to court litigation where all parties want to win the court case at any cost. In this manner people waste all the wealth they have and ruin their lives, and may not succeed in acquiring an auspicious grave site in the end. This kind of disastrous behaviour brings misfortune instead of blessings. Why has people’s behaviour come to this level of foolishness? As in the above quotation, eagerly searching for auspicious grave sites by any available means caused major social problems during the later period of the Chosŏn dynasty. Conscientious and rational-minded Sirhak scholars’ criticism of the art of geomancy became stronger as well. Confucian Scholars’ Criticisms of the Practice of Geomancy While many Koreans during the Chosŏn dynasty were preoccupied with practicing geomancy, a number of Confucian scholars came to criticize the practice of grave

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geomancy 陰宅. These concerned Confucian scholars were often Sirhak scholars, including well-known scholars such as Yi Ik, Chŏng Yagyong, Pak Chega, and Chŏng Sŏn. For example, Chŏng Yagyong severely criticized the practice of grave geomancy and lamented its tragic social consequences leading to serious litigation, as quoted in the introduction to his book, the Mongmin Simsŏ.37 Chŏng Sŏn, as quoted in the Mongmin Simsŏ written by Chŏng Yagyong 丁若鏞, even more vividly described the crimes and litigations that resulted from people’s fanatic practicing of geomancy: Chŏng Sŏn said, “People in the world are brainwashed and seduced by Guo Pu’s art of geomancy and do not bury their deceased parents for several years due to covetously looking for auspicious gravesites. Some people, even after burying the deceased, doubt the quality of the gravesite and shift the corpse to different places three or even four times. Some families quarrel over gravesites and cannot decide where to bury their ancestor’s corpse, turning family relationships sour. In some cases, brothers taking different geomantic advices have disputes and become enemies.” He also said, “People who bury their parents and indulged in the art of geomancy end up illegally invading gravesites in mountains belonging to other people. In some cases they illegally dig out other peoples’ graves and throw the bones away [in order to bury their ancestors there]. This kind of behaviour leads to the ultimate animosity among the people and ends up in serious litigations to which people are determined to win the case at all costs. Therefore some people waste their wealth and ruin their businesses in such manner while not being able to secure an auspicious site. Such behaviour brings misfortune instead of the blessings they seek [through auspicious gravesites]. How has the people’s foolishness reached this degree?”38 During the Chosŏn dynasty, the practice of grave geomancy became very popular among the people. This popularity harmed Korean culture by providing causes for quarrels and litigation over auspicious sites, wasting wealth in looking for lucky sites, and encouraging a fortune-telling mentality among the people in general. Another Sirhak scholar during the later Chosŏn dynasty, Pak Chega 朴齊 家, lamented in his book: The idea of geomancy has had a more adverse influence [on Korean society] than Buddhism or Daoism. Even the scholar-gentry class followed this idea and made it a custom. It is said that moving an ancestor’s grave to a better location is an act of filial piety. Since the scholar-gentry class considered the making of its ancestor’s graves as important, the common people imitated their behaviour. . . . Generally, it is a bad intention to depend upon one’s fortune through one’s deceased parents. Moreover,



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occupying other’s mountains illegally and destroying other’s funeral biers are not right things to do. To have more splendid worship ceremonies at graves than at home during special occasions is against proper principles. It is not possible to list all the stories about people who perform deeds against proper principles by wasting all of their wealth [in finding auspicious places] but do not take care of their ancestral bones, and yet expect blessings [i.e., good fortune].39 As Pak Chega argued, many Koreans of his time indulged in selfish efforts to gain blessings from an ancestor’s grave in an auspicious site, rather than caring about the well-being of their ancestors. The Chinese practice of geomancy was no different from the Korean situation. Maurice Freedman, a British anthropologist, once made this comment on the Chinese practice of grave geomancy: Indeed, we may say that, in the traditional Chinese setting, there is more involved than a mere desire to procure good fortune; there is a moral obligation to seek a future of happiness for those for whom one is responsible. If I select my grave site in anticipation of my death, it is for the benefit of my sons and remoter agnatic issue. If my sons choose my grave, they are intent not only on their own prosperity but also on that of their descendants, each his own.40 Freedman understood the purpose of practicing grave geomancy in China quite accurately and pointed out a critically important aspect of the theory of geomancy regarding the manifestation of auspiciousness. Freedman’s comment on Chinese geomancy is also applicable to the practice of geomancy in Korea. The main purpose of practicing grave geomancy was to extract blessings from the grave site, not to secure the well-being of the deceased ancestors’ afterlife. Several centuries before Freedman observed this motivation in grave geomancy in China, the same issue was debated in Korean courts, as in the case of relocating King Sejong’s tomb as documented in the Chŭngbo Munhŏn Pigo 增補文獻備考 (Revised and Enlarged Reference Compilation of Documents on Korea): In the 1st year of King Yejong’s reign [1469], Yŏng Tomb 英陵 [King Sejong’s tomb] was moved to Yŏju. Originally the tomb was near Hŏn Tomb [King T’aejong’s tomb]. During King Sejo’s reign, there was discussion that Yŏng Tomb should be moved, since it was not located at an auspicious place. Therefore, King Sejo summoned Sŏ Kŏjŏng [a famous scholar-officer] and asked him about the matter. Master Sŏ said that, “the art of geomancy [literally, ‘mountains, waters, and directions’] is used for receiving blessings and for avoiding misfortune to the descendants. I, your officer, do not know much about the art, but the moving of the ancestor’s graves by the people [to a better place] is an attempt to seek and acquire

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fortune [for the descendants]. As a king, what more fortune do you expect [by moving the tomb of the king]?” Then, the king said, “I no longer wish to move the tomb.”41 By moving graves, people expected to receive blessings such as enhanced social status, greater wealth, or having more sons in the family. Most geomancy tales reflect these wishes and very rarely convey any information regarding the descendants’ concerns for the well-being of their deceased ancestors’ life after death. Moreover, geomancy text books declared that the manifestation of benefits delivered from auspicious grave sites are only concerned with the well-being of the living descendants and their future descendants to come, but not the well-being of the deceased ancestors’ life after death. 7. The Period of Japanese Colonial Rule (1910–1945) The characteristics of this period can be summarized into two points. One was the introduction of the public cemetery system, in which graves were all placed in a designated confined area. The other was the Japanese government’s systematic interference with key geomantic landscapes of Korean palaces in Seoul or local government offices in other cities to implant Japanese colonial icons. Examples of the latter were the construction of the new Japanese colonial government buildings on the Korean palace grounds in Seoul or many Japanese Shinto shrines in major Korean cities. This policy is interpreted as a Japanese attempt to control the Korean mind and have Koreans accept their colonial rule in the name of modernization and development. After Japan annexed Korea as a colony, the Japanese colonial government adopted a cemetery system where graves were allowed to be made only within the confinement of a designated section, a system that was new to Korea. Formerly, Koreans could make graves anywhere they considered auspicious, as long as they had access to the spot. Through this colonial government policy, the application of geomancy in grave-site selection was somewhat restricted. Grave geomancy is deeply seated in Korean culture, however, and this new colonial policy could not be strictly enforced in many rural parts of the country. Therefore, social problems and crime relating to grave geomancy continued to occur. The Japanese colonial government manipulated the Korean belief in geomancy for their own political purposes to legitimize and promote their colonial rule while suppressing Korean resistance to the Japanese colonial government. For example, the Japanese colonial government mutilated the Kyŏngbok Palace by sandwiching it between the new colonial government-general of Korea building and the governor-general’s residence to the front and rear. By doing so, they effectively disrupted the flow of vital energy and auspiciousness of the Korean palace. Anyone who knows anything about geomancy and Seoul’s geomantic conditions would understand that Korea’s fortunes were finished and that the new Japanese colonial government would replace the Korean monarchy. By contrasting the majestic Western-style Japanese colonial government office building with the old and relatively



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small and shabby wooden building of the Korean palace, the Japanese government seemed to have attempted to justify and legitimize their colonial rule over Korea. It seemed to be suggesting that Japan had come to Korea to modernize Korea, and Koreans should accept Japanese rule and leave its shabby Korean heritage behind. In provincial districts, the Japanese built Shinto shrines in geomantically important places, sometimes forcefully removing a significant existing Korean building. By doing so, the Japanese government might have been attempting to give the impression to Koreans that the Japanese colonial government had become the legitimate beneficiary of all Korea’s important vital energy. Lee Mong Il suggested that this Japanese colonial period in the history of Korean geomantic thought is characterized as the period where the Japanese disconnected the veins of Korea’s vital energy.42 His argument is based on the fact that the Japanese government established railways and highways that cut off some important Korean geomantic arteries of vital energy, and also the public belief that the Japanese drove iron bars into geomantically critical points. However, the accusation that the Japanese colonial government drove iron piles in geomantically critical points is not very convincing. Looking at the iron piles displayed in the Independence Hall of Korea 獨立記念館 does not convincingly suggest that the Japanese used those iron bars to disconnect the flow of vital energy in geomancy (figure 2.9).

Figure 2.9. Iron bars on display at the Independence Hall of Korea. It is claimed that Japanese colonizers drove these bars into the rocks on top of Mt. Pukhan to stop the flow of vital energy in the geomantically auspicious site and thereby halt the birth of great Korean heroes. Photograph by Hong-key Yoon, August 1995.

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The iron bars pictured are only about an inch or less in diameter and short in length (less than 30 cm), and if they were driven into solid rock the action could not be considered a deliberate action of hurting the geomantic flow of vital energy. A well-known fact in geomancy is that vital energy only flows through soil about one meter below the ground, and does not flow through solid rock, where the iron bars were driven in. Nevertheless some Koreans believed the iron bars were attempts to ruin the geomantically auspicious Korean landscape. The piles may have had some practical purpose, for example, land survey marking, but Lee Mong Il’s comments only focus on the rumors surrounding the alleged severance of veins of vital energy by the Japanese. When we take a broad overview of geomantic thought and practice during this period, it might be more reasonable to describe it as the time of Japanese manipulation of Korean geomancy to legitimize Japan’s colonial rule by building important government buildings in geomantically important places in Seoul and other cities in Korea. This period is also characterized by the introduction of the modern cemetery system, which interfered with the traditional practice of grave geomancy in Korea. 8. From the Liberation (1945) to the Present Since Korea’s liberation from Japanese colonial rule in 1945, the practice of geomancy has not been officially recognized by the government. However, many Koreans have continued practicing geomancy, especially in grave-site selection. The practice of geomancy did not cause many social problems during the Korean War (1950–1953) or during the 1960s and 1970s when Korea was relatively poor economically. Traditional Korean cultural heritage was pushed aside during the fasttrack to modernization driven by the Korean government. At that time, Koreans had little room in their minds to consider the values of their cultural heritage that were not essential to the urgent task of improving the national standard of living. Since the 1980s, however, as Koreans have accumulated wealth through rapid industrialization and modernization, they have come to have nostalgic feelings toward traditional cultural values, and can afford to look at the nonessential aspects of life. In my view, this economic development awakened the traditional value of filial piety and enabled many Koreans to hire geomancers to search for auspicious grave sites, or to improve grave decorations with stone works. For these reasons there seems to have been a popularization of geomancy in Korea since the 1980s. In the 1970s, I was able to find only a few books (fewer than ten titles) on the principles and practice of geomancy written by professional geomancers. In the late 1980s, however, I was able to find more than two dozen such books, filling several book shelves of Kyobo Books, the largest bookstore in Seoul. On 23 October 2004 in the same book store, I was astonished to find that the book section of geomancy had expanded greatly: I counted 183 different books on geomancy filling a six-tier bookshelf, and 29 different titles of “overflow” geomancy



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books were shelved on the bottom tier of the next bookshelf marked “divination.” In total, 212 different geomancy books were available for sale in the bookstore that day. When I typed in the keyword p’ungsu into the bookstore computer, 184 book titles were retrieved. With the key word myŏngdang (auspicious sites), another commonly used Korean term to connote geomancy, and another 47 book titles were retrieved. This means that 231 book titles were being sold in the bookstore (some books were not on the shelves when I counted the book titles as they were either sold out or on order). Today, South Korea’s politics are not free from the practice of geomancy. It is well known in South Korea that former President Kim Dae-jung shifted his family graves to an auspicious site in Yong’in, near Seoul. Some geomancers and followers of Korean geomancy claim that he was elected the president of South Korea as a result of this geomantic act. This work was done by hiring Son Sŏgu, the best-known geomancer in Korea at the time. There are widespread rumors that several other politicians campaigning for the Korean presidency also shifted their ancestral graves to auspicious sites. In every major parliamentary or presidential election in Korea, it is often rumored that someone has shifted an ancestor’s grave to an auspicious site by hiring a well-known geomancer. Although there may have been some grossly exaggerated stories and groundless rumors spread by political opponents, some instances have been found to be true. This may well demonstrate that geomancy is still being used to influence and sway public opinion. During my field trips in South Korea since the 1970s, I found that the practice of geomancy still persists in Korea despite the inroads of Western culture. Geomantic ideas were more important to older generations in rural areas than to younger generations in urban areas, although even in cities, the role of the geomancer has not yet been neglected. Since the 1980s, the practice of geomancy in Korea, aided by the improving economy and living standards, has been popularized, and a number of geomantic manuals and literature have been published. Today, geomancers in Korea are still important as grave- and house-site consultants, although their role in society has significantly faded. Most Korean intellectuals regard geomancers as superstitious sorcerers who select house and grave sites, although some view geomancy as a traditional ecological idea that can be relevant for modern environmental planning. Geomancers are, however, still considered persuasive authorities in selecting grave and house sites. Notes   1. This chapter consists mainly of a revised and expanded version of excerpts from my earlier book, Yoon, The Culture of Fengshui in Korea, 33–53, 182–87, and 209–12.   2. Mong-il Lee, Han’guk P’ungsu Sasangsa Yŏn’gu (Taegu: Ililsa, 1991).   3. Imanishi Ryu, Shiragishi Kenkyu (A Study of the History of Silla), trans. Yi Puo and Hashimoto Shigeru, Imanisi Ryu-ŭi Sillasa Yŏn’gu (Iminaish Rhu’s Study of the History of Silla Dynasty)(Seoul: Sŏgyŏng Munhwasa, 2008), 137.

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  4. Yi Pyŏngdo, Koryŏ Sidae-ŭi Yŏn’gu: Tŭkhi Toch’am Sasang-ŭi Palchŏn-ŭl Chungsimŭro (A Study of the Koryŏ Period: Especially with a Focus on the Development of Divinatory Thought), rev. ed. (Seoul: Asea Munhwasa, 1980), 28–29.   5. Yi Pyŏngdo, Han’guk Kodae Sahoe-wa Kŭ Munhwa (Ancient Korean Society and Its Culture), Sŏmun Mun’go (Seomoon Library), vol. 71 (Seoul: Sŏmundang, 1973), 304–7. For more discussion, see section 4).  6. Yi Chonghang, “P’ungsu Chirisŏr-ŭi Sŏnghaeng-ŭi Wonin-gwa Kŭgŏs-i Uri Minjoksŏng-e Mich’in Agyŏnghyang-e Kwanhan Ilgoch’al” (An Examination of the Causes of the Vogue for Geomancy and Its Negative Effects on Our National Character), Kyŏngbuk Taehakkyo Inmun Sahoe Kwahak Nonmunjip 5 (1962): 491.   7. For example, Chinese knife money 明刀錢 from the Warring States Period is found in Korea. For further information, see Yi Pyŏngdo and Kim Chae’won, Han’guksa: Kodaep’yŏn (The History of Korea: The Ancient Era), ed. the Chindan Hakhoe (Chin-Tan Society) (Seoul: Ŭryu Munhwasa, 1959), 48–64.   8. Fu Sheng, Shangshu Dazhuan (The Great Commentary on the Classic of History) (Shanghai: Shangwu Yinshukuan, 1937), 59.   9. An ancient concept of Chinese cosmology. Recorded in the Shangshu (Book of Documents), “Hong Fan [Great Plan],” the “Great Plan with its Nine Divisions,” is Jizi’s explanation of the principle of the universe. 10. For discussions on the truth or falsity of Jizi’s flight to Chosŏn, see Cheon Kwan Wu’s “Kija­go” (A Consideration of Jizi), Tongbang Hakchi (Journal of Korean Studies) 15 (Dec. 1974): 1–72. 11. Iryŏn, Samguk Yusa (Memorabilia of the Three Kingdoms), trans. Yi Chaeho, 2 vols., Segye Kojŏn Chŏnjip (Complete Collection of World Classics), vols. 10–11 (Seoul: Kwangmun Ch’ulp’ansa, 1969), fasc. l, 15–16. In the story, it is interesting to note that even though T’alhae obtained the land by cheating Lord Ho, the auspiciousness of the land was manifested to him. This aspect of the story may signify that playing tricks and cheating were accepted to some degree in traditional Korean society. 12. Yi, Han’guk Kodae Sahoe-wa Kŭ Munhwa, 304. 13. Guo Pu, Liujiangdongjiacang Shanben Zangshu (Liu Jiangdong Family’s Rare Copy of the Zangshu), annot. Zheng Mi, Linlang Mishi Congshu (Linlang Secret Room Ser.) Case 2, vol. 10 (Kuaiji: Dongshi Qusitang, 1888), part 2, 3b. 14. Guo, Liujiangdongjiacang Shanben Zangshu, part 2, 3b. 15. Kim Pusik, Wanyŏk Samguk Sagi: Pu Wonmun (Complete Translation of the History of the Three Kingdoms: With the Original Text), trans. Kim Chonggwon, rev. ed. (Seoul: Myŏngmundang, 1984), 249, 393. 16. Lee Ki-baik, “Han’guk P’ungsu Chirisŏr-ŭi Kiwon” (The Origins of Korean Geomancy), Han’guksa Simin Kangjwa (Korean History Lectures for Citizens), vol. 14, ed. Lee Ki-baik (Seoul: Ilchogak, 1994), 7–8; Yi, Koryŏ Sidae-ŭi Yŏn’gu (1980), 29. 17. The second article of the Ten Injunctions decreed by the first king (T’aejo) of the Koryŏ dynasty includes the following statement: “During the last period of the Silla dynasty many temples were built and damaged the land energy of the nation. For such activities caused the dynasty to collapse eventually, how can we afford not to guard against this affair?” The modern Korean text for this translation is from the Sahoe Kwahagwon (Academy of Social Sciences) Kojŏn Yŏn’gusil (National Classic Institute) (North Korea), and the Sinsŏwon P’yŏnjippu (Sinsŏwon Editorial Board), eds., Pugyŏk Koryŏsa (The North Korean Translation of the History of the Koryŏ Dynasty), vol. 1, “Sega 2” (Genealogies 2), “T’aejo 2” (Seoul: Sinsŏwon, 1991), 115.



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18. Koryŏsa, fasc. 28, 26–27. 19. Yi Kwangjun, “Tosŏn Kuksa-wa Tosŏnsa” (National Master Tosŏn and Tosŏn Temple), in “Tosŏn Kuksa-wa Han’guk”: Che Sibihoe Kukche Pulgyo Haksul Hoe’ŭi (Proceedings of the 12th International Buddhism Conference “National Master Toson and Korea”), ed. the Taehan Pulgyo Chŏnt’ong Yŏn’guwon (Research Center for Korean Buddhist Traditions) and Tosŏnsa (Tosŏn Temple) (Seoul: Taehan Pulgyo Chŏnt’ong Yŏn’guwon and Tosŏnsa, 1996), 57–58. It is a common theme for the mothers of folk heroes or the founders of dynasties to dream of “swallowing marbles, sun or mysterious fruits” at their conception in Korean and Manchurian folklore. 20. Han’guk Munhwa Illyu Hakhoe (Korean Society for Cultural Anthropology), ed., Han’guk Minsok Chonghap Chosa Pogosŏ: Chŏlla Namdo-p’yŏn (A Comprehensive Report on Korean Folklore and Folk Customs: South Chŏlla Province) (Seoul: Munhwa Kongbobu Munhwajae Kwalliguk, 1969), 749. 21. Choi Changjo, “Han’guk P’ungsu Chirisŏr-ŭi Kujo-wa Wolli: Tosŏn P’ungsu-rŭl Chungsim-ŭro” (The Structure and Principles of Korean Geomancy: With a Focus on Tosŏn’s Geomancy), in “Tosŏn Kuksa-wa Han’guk”: Che Sibihoe Kukche Pulgyo Haksul Hoe’ŭi, ed. the Taehan Pulgyo Chŏnt’ong Yŏn’guwon and Tosŏnsa, 284–87. 22. Ch’oe Sangsu, ed., Han’guk Min’gan Chŏnsŏljip (A Collection of Korean Folk Legends) (Seoul: T’ongmun’gwan, 1958), 453–54. 23. Han’guk Munhwa Illyu Hakhoe (Korean Society for Cultural Anthropology), ed., Han’guk Minsok Chonghap Chosa Pogosŏ: Chŏlla Pukto-p’yŏn (A Comprehensive Report on Korean Folklore and Folk Customs: North Chŏlla Province) (Seoul: Munhwa Kongbobu Munhwajae Kwalliguk, 1971), 594. 24. Yi, Koryŏ Sidae-ŭi Yŏn’gu (1980), 29; and Lee, “Han’guk P’ungsu Chirisŏr-ŭi Kiwon,” 7–8. 25. Sahoe Kwahagwon Kojŏn Yŏn’gusil and the Sinsŏwon P’yŏnjippu, eds., Pugyŏk Koryŏsa, vol. 1, “Sega 2,” “T’aejo 2,” 115. 26. Sahoe Kwahagwon Kojŏn Yŏn’gusil and the Sinsŏwon P’yŏnjippu, eds., Pugyŏk Koryŏsa, vol. 1, “Sega 2,” “T’aejo 2,” 112. 27. Ch’oe Cha, Pohanjip (Supplement to A Collection to Relieve Idleness), in P’ahanjip, Pohanjip, Yŏgong P’aesŏl, by Yi Inno, Ch’oe Cha, and Yi Chehyŏn, trans. Yi Sangbo, Han’guk Myŏngjŏ Taejŏnjip (Great Collection of Korean Classics), vol. 5 (Seoul: Taeyang Sŏjŏk, 1972), 134. 28. For recent research on this topic, see Kim Kiduk, “Koryŏ Sidae Kaegyŏng-gwa Sŏgyŏng-ŭi P’ungsu Chiri-wa Ch’ŏndoron” (The Geomancy of Kaegyŏng and Sŏgyŏng and the Theory of the Relocation of the Capital during the Koryŏ Period), Han’guksa Yŏn’gu (Journal of Korean History) 127 (2004): 177–210. 29. Choi Won Suk, “Kanghwa-ŭi Wangdo P’ungsu” (The Royal Geomancy of Kanghwa Island), in Sinp’yŏn Kanghwasa 3: Munhwa-wa Sasang (Newly Compiled History of Kanghwa Island 3: Culture and Ideology), ed. the Kanghwagun Kunsa P’yŏnch’an Wiwonhoe (Kanghwa County History Compilation Committee) (Kanghwagun: Kanghwagun Kunsa P’yŏnch’an Wiwonhoe, 2003), 232–44; and Kim Kiduk, “Koryŏ Sidae Kangdo Kunggwor-ŭi P’ungsu Chirijŏk Koch’al” (A Geomantic Examination of the Palace on Kanghwa Island during the Koryŏ Period), Han’guk Chungsesa Yŏn’gu (Journal of Korean Medieval History) 31 (2011): 313–35. 30. Pae Chongho, “Koryŏ-ŭi P’ungsu Toch’am Sasang” (The Geomantic and Divinatory Thought of Koryŏ), in Han’guk Ch’ŏlhaksa (A History of Korean Philosophy), vol. 2, ed. the Han’guk Ch’ŏlhakhoe (Korean Philosophical Association) (Seoul: Tongmyŏngsa, 1987), 59.

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31. Michael Y. Mak and Albert T. So, Scientific Fengshui for the Built Environment: Theories and Applications (Hong Kong: City University of Hong Kong Press, 2015), 55. 32. The information on the two geomancers was elicited in personal interviews with Korean geomancers during October 1973–February 1974 and taken from one written source, Yi Hongjik, ed., Kuksa Taesajŏn (Encyclopedia of Korean History), rev. ed. (Seoul: Han’guk Ch’ulp’ansa, 1982), vol. 1, 330, 415–16, and vol. 2, 494, 746. 33. Kim, Chosŏn P’ungsuhagin-ŭi Saeng’ae-wa Nonjaeng, 18, 439. 34. Sejong Sillok (Annals of King Sejong), the day of Yichou, the fourth moon, twentyseventh year of the king’s reign. 35. Chŏng Yagyong, Kugyŏk Mongmin Simsŏ (Modern Korean Translation of the Book of Advice on Governing the People), 3 vols., Minjok Munhwa Ch’ujinhoe Kojŏn Kugyŏk Ch’ongsŏ (Korean Classics Research Institute Korean Classics Translation Ser.), vols. 37–39 (Seoul: Minjok Munhwa Ch’ujinhoe, 1969), fasc. 11, 390. 36. Chŏng, Kugyŏk Mongmin Simsŏ, fasc. 11, 390–399. 37. Chŏng, Kugyŏk Mongmin Simsŏ, fasc. 2, 390. 38. Chŏng, Kugyŏk Mongmin Simsŏ, fasc. 2, 393. 39. Pak Chega, “Pukhagŭi” (Discourse on Northern Learning), in T’aengniji, Pukhagŭi (The T’aengniji and Pukhagŭi), by Yi Chung-hwan and Pak, trans. No Toyang and Yi Sŏkho, Han’guk Myŏngjŏ Taejŏnjip (Great Collection of Korean Classics), vol. 10 (Seoul: Taeyang Sŏjŏk, 1972), 402. 40. Freedman, “Geomancy: Presidential Address 1968,” 12. 41. Hongmun’gwan (Office of Special Advisors), Chŭngbo Munhŏn Pigo (Revised and Enlarged Reference Compilation of Documents on Korea), fasc. 71, “Yego” (Examination of Rites), 5. 42. Lee, Han’guk P’ungsu Sasangsa Yŏn’gu, 208.

3 Geomancy and Major Social Upheavals (Armed Uprisings) in the History of Korea1 Hong-key Yoon

Geomancy has for some time played an important role in social change and upheavals in Korean history. It has always been an agent of social ferment. Social instigators and leaders of resistance to the established sociopolitical class often attempted to manipulate the people’s beliefs in geomancy. Some major sociopolitical events in the contemporary history of Korea, including several presidential elections, were said to be associated with geomancy in one way or another, even in a small way such as the relocation of a presidential candidate’s family graves to a more auspicious place in expectation of good luck. In this chapter I attempt to document and explain the three major social upheavals in Korean history that had significant relationships with geomantic prophecies or adopted some aspect of the geomantic belief system. These are (1) the Myoch’ŏng Rebellion and the attempt to move the Koryŏ dynasty’s capital to present-day P’yŏng’yang, (2) the Hong Kyŏngnae Rebellion (1811–1812) in the northwestern district of the Korean peninsula during the latter half of the Chosŏn dynasty, and (3) Chŏn Pongjun and the Tonghak Peasants’ War (1894). I will discuss them in chronological order. 1. The Myoch’ŏng Rebellion Myoch’ŏng was a Buddhist monk–geomancer from Sŏgyŏng during the Koryŏ dynasty, in the northwestern Korean peninsula. In January 1135, Myoch’ŏng and his supporters in Sŏgyŏng rebelled against the central government, and the rebellion lasted almost a year. The rebellion in many ways was an important sociopolitical movement of the Koryŏ dynasty, for it advocated a more nationalistic and independent Korean ideology than any social movement during the dynasty. It was also an armed rebellion as well as a sociopolitical movement against the established and corrupt ruling elite of the capital city, Kaegyŏng, by the marginalized northwestern district people, who retained more Koguryŏ heritage than Kaegyŏng.2 61

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This sociopolitical movement heavily manipulated geomantic ideas and prophecies in attracting supporters, arguing that Myoch’ŏng himself was a divine geomancer and Sŏgyŏng had better geomantic conditions than Kaegyŏng, the capital. Thus Myoch’ŏng and his supporters demanded that the central government move capital city from Kaegyŏng in the central part of the Korean peninsula to Sŏgyŏng in the northwest. It was the most intensely nationalistic and the largest geomancy-involved sociopolitical movement in the history of Korea. I will briefly summarize the historical process of Myoch’ŏng’s rebellion in association with geomancy as practiced during that time. Myoch’ŏng seemed to be an expert on geomantic prophecy and befriended the government officers of the capital city. In 1127, he became the court officer with the title of the King’s Advisor 王 師 (Wangsa) and won the confidence of King Injong. He influenced the king to visit and stay briefly in Sŏgyŏng, away from the capital city of Kaegyŏng. He later strongly advised and nearly succeeded in persuading the king to move the capital to Sŏgyŏng, arguing that the geomantic energy of the existing capital had been dwindling and was weak, while the energy for Sŏgyŏng was strong and expanding further.3 Although on the surface the reason for such advice was geomantic prophecy, his real intention was to overcome the established ruling elites from Kaegyŏng and replace them with people from Sŏgyŏng. This persuasive attempt was assisted by literati court officers such as Chŏng Chisang 鄭知常, who were from Monk Myoch’ŏng’s home district, Sŏgyŏng. In fact, Chŏng Chisang played a key role in Myoch’ŏng’s ascendency to royal advisor.4 Monk Myoch’ŏng persuaded the king to build a new palace at Sŏgyŏng, claiming that the place had a flowery power that would cause neighboring countries such the Jin 金-Manchu empire to come and surrender and pay tribute to Korea. In 1129, the new palace in Sŏgyŏng was completed, and subsequently on several occasions the king visited and briefly stayed there.5 Myoch’ŏng and his followers who promoted shifting the capital to Sŏgyŏng instigated the self-reliant and nationalistic policy. They argued that the then Korean king should adopt the title of Emperor as in China and designate Korea’s own royal yŏnho 年號 (nianhao in Chinese) or reign name, instead of using those of the Chinese. The king could not implement this nationalistic policy because of strong resistance from the Kaegyŏng-based established class of literati-officers. Nevertheless, the king was interested in Myoch’ŏng’s idea of moving the capital to the newly built palace in Sŏgyŏng. Myoch’ŏng’s efforts to persuade the king using geomantic arguments went very wrong when the king’s trip to the newly completed palace in Sŏgyŏng in 1134 coincided with a devastating storm that caused considerable loss of personnel and horses.6 Opponents to moving the capital to Sŏgyŏng used this disastrous storm as a clear sign that Sŏgyŏng was not a suitable capital site, countering Myoch’ŏng’s geomantic argument and geomantic prophecy as false and treacherous. The opponent officers appealed to the king to stop the trip to Sŏgyŏng’s new palace and to abolish the policy of moving the capital to Sŏgyŏng. The king eventually stopped the trip to and expressed his intention not to move the capital to Sŏgyŏng. After



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the failure of this plan, Myoch’ŏng rebelled against the central government and declared the establishment of a new Korean kingdom called Taewi. His military power controlled the northwestern part of the Korean peninsula, with Sŏgyŏng, of course, as the capital city. His rebellion lasted over a year until his capital was recaptured by government forces and Myoch’ŏng was killed. This movement was one of the most nationalistic sociopolitical movements in Korean history, and it is an example of a popular uprising and rebellion that included the direct involvement of geomantic ploys. His movement was popular among people of the northwestern part of the peninsula and had a significant impact on Korean history. 2. The Hong Kyŏngnae Rebellion The later Chosŏn period was marked by social unrest caused by a weakening of the king’s authority and power, the rise of royal in-law government 勢道政治 (sedo chŏngch’i), rampant factionalism, and popular uprisings. The popular uprisings were often fuelled by widespread rumors and geomantic prophecies, which, for example, detailed that a certain hero would come from such-and-such a region to save the country. Various forms of political corruption and polarization of society in terms of economic and social status naturally provided causes for various forms of resistance, including popular uprisings from the disadvantaged or discriminatedagainst sectors or region of the country. Sometimes these uprisings manipulated the geomantic conditions or prophecies to their advantage to fuel their movement against the establishment (central or local government). Under such circumstances, geomantic ideas and prophecies sometimes played a catalytic role in the people’s resistance to the ruling class, and geomancers were often the leading instigators of such movements. The role of geomancer included traveling widely to various places (including settlements) to find and survey auspicious places for various clients. Once a traveler or a stranger was identified as a geomancer, the locals would not be suspicious as to why the person was visiting strange places, for people knew about geomancers’ need to travel to faraway lands in search of auspicious places. Thus, the identity of a professional geomancer was convenient for traveling instigators of popular resistance in avoiding suspicion from government officers and others, and rebellion leaders often identified themselves as professional geomancers.7 At the same time, to be an itinerant geomancer one did not require a license as long as one had enough knowledge in geomancy to evaluate landforms and possessed a geomantic compass for examining auspicious directions. Geomancers sometimes practiced fortune-telling and divination as well. Hence, the ringleaders or instigators of popular uprsings sometimes pretended to be geomancers to hide their identities, or sometimes they were actually practicing geomancers. The Hong Kyŏngnae Rebellion was a large-scale popular uprising manipulating geomancy as a means of attracting people from various social classes, including peasants, members of the disgruntled yangban 兩班 (scholar or upper) class, merchants, laborers and even local government officers who felt that their region was

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discriminated against and unfairly treated by the central government and the ruling elite of Korea.8 The two key leaders of the rebellion were practicing geomancers: the chief leader, Hong Kyŏngnae 洪景來, was a professional geomancer from Yonggang County of P’yŏng’an Province who claimed that the grave site of his father that he had chosen was a very auspicious site that would protect him. He traveled extensively to find auspicious sites for his clientele in various places, for his income was mainly from his practice of geomancy. Being an itinerant geomancer was a convenient means of contacting different people, gathering information relating to local people’s discontent, and spreading revolutionary ideology associated with geomantic prophecies that claimed to save the people. U Kunch’ik was another ringleader of the rebellion and Hong Kyŏngnae’s key collaborator. Also known as U Yongmun, he too was a professional itinerant geomancer who traveled around the district. U Kunch’ik was from Kasan, a different county from Hong Kyŏngnae’s, but they had studied geomancy textbooks together at Chŏngnyong Temple (Azure Dragon Temple) in Kasan in 1800.9 U Kunch’ik was a close comrade of Hong Kyŏngnae and was the mastermind of the rebellion; he provided ideological support along with geomantic prophecies as well as being an effective recruiter of key supporters of the rebellion.10 He was also fairly wealthy with a high income as a well-known geomancer, especially among merchants. He himself was involved in financial ventures as well.11 The Hong Kyŏngnae Rebellion used geomancy as a key ideology and means to attract the people to support the popular uprising for overthrowing the central government. The rebellion started with a successful armed attack on the local government office of Kasan County on 31 January 1812. The rebels successfully took over seven cities and the surrounding rural areas northwest of the Ch’ŏngch’ŏn River in P’yŏng’an Province. However, the armed uprising failed when the government blew up Chŏngju city fortress with gunpowder on 29 May 1812. The Hong Kyŏngnae Rebellion became an important antidynastic movement during the latter part of the Chosŏn dynasty and became an important event that exposed the contradictions of Korean society at that time. This armed rebellion intertwined with geomantic prophecies was one of the first popular uprisings against a corrupt and unjust central government. The ideology of geomancy was used to correct social injustices and to challenge a corrupt and weak central government. Even though the Hong Kyŏngnae Rebellion was intertwined with geomantic ideology and ended unsuccessfully, it provided momentum for other popular armed uprisings in different parts of Korea seeking a more just society, many of which sprang up around the country during the later Chosŏn period. 3. Chŏn Pongjun and the Tonghak Peasants’ Movement The most significant armed peasant uprising against the corrupt government was the popular, massive uprising from the southwestern Korean peninsula; it is now



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known as the Kabo Peasants’ War 甲午農民戰爭. This uprising was associated with the then popular and newly developed indigenous religion called Tonghak 東學 (Eastern Learning), and the armed rebellion was led by Chŏn Pongjun 全琫準 (1854–1895), who knew much about and practiced geomancy as a part-time geomancer at one stage.12 This uprising provided important momentum for the people’s challenge to the corrupt local government systems and a call for a more just society. This peasant uprising proved to be the main cause of the First Sino-Japanese War 淸日 戰爭 (1894–1895) on Korean soil and accelerated the foreign influence on and intervention of the Korean government. The ideological basis and support for this peasant movement was from Tonghak, the native religion created by Ch’oe Cheu 崔濟愚 (1824–1864) during the early nineteenth century. This religion preached the “man is heaven 人乃天” (innaech’ŏn in Korean) doctrine that claimed that humanity and divinity were the same and one. This native Korean religion was born in part as a response to the newly introduced Catholicism from the West, and it preached that all human beings were equal and that serving humanity is the same as serving God. The armed uprising by the peasants of the Tonghak faith was a natural outcome of the Tonghak social movement. This religion incorporates aspects of Confucianism, Buddhism, Daoism, and a number of traditional Korean folk beliefs, including geomancy. Ch’oe Cheu freely expressed his knowledge of and faith in geomancy in his book Yongdam Yusa 龍潭 遺詞 (Hymns from Dragon Lake). His descriptions and praise of the mountain ranges or local landscapes around his home Kyŏngju District are a geomantic reading of the local landscape using geomantic terminologies.13 In a chapter called “Mongjung Noso Mundapka 夢中老少問答歌” (Song of Questions and Answers between Elders and Youngsters in a Dream), the founder of the Tonghak movement quoted a key geomantic proverb, “A great person is born by drawing the energy from the land” and exalted people with the statement “So let us live in the auspicious place.”14 In another chapter, “Yongdamga 龍潭歌” (Dragon Lake Song) in Yongdam Yusa, he quoted the same geomantic proverb and threw in a rhetorical question: “Since a great person is born by drawing energy from the land, a great man of virtue and talent must be born in this place.”15 Clearly, the Tonghak religious and social movement accepted and incorporated at least some aspects of geomancy into their religious doctrines. The charismatic leader of the Tonghak Peasants’ War (February– December 1894; previously known as the Tonghak Rebellion), Chŏn Pongjun, also read geomancy textbooks and treated them as more than simple books on divination and superstition. Since boyhood his family had been poor and as he grew into an adult he became responsible for supporting his family. To earn an income he probably worked as a private tutor for children and as a geomancer or herbal medicine seller, sometimes divining auspicious dates for villagers or ghost-writing letters for illiterate people.16

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Figure 3.1. A page from a Tonghak religious scripture showing the incorporation of a geomantic proverbial saying, “A great person is born by drawing the energy from the land.” This is from a hand-written manuscript (photo facsimile) of Yongdam Yusa 龍潭遺詞 (Hymns from Dragon Lake), in Han’gukhak Charyo Chongsŏ 9—Tonghak Nongmin Undongpyŏn, edited by Han’guk Chŏngsin Munhwa Yŏn’guwŏn, 1996, p. 133. Photograph by Hong-key Yoon, November 2016.

The Tonghak religion, which promoted equality among all humanity, experienced an exponential growth during 1880s, with a fantastic response especially from commoners who resented the ruling yangban class. The Tonghak movement became a formidable social force, and the government started suppressing the religious movement. In 1892, several thousand Tonghak followers gathered to demand official recognition of their religion, the right to operate in the open, and an end to the suppression of the movement. The result was not satisfactory for the Tonghak church, and subsequently more and bigger gatherings were organized in different parts of Korea. In 1894, the Tonghak movement, now a formidable force, moved into a revolutionary armed uprising under the charismatic leadership of Chŏn Pongjun in Kobu County against a cruel and corrupt local magistrate. The armed uprising was successful in its early stages, removing “bad” local administrators and



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Figure 3.2. The last photo of Chŏn Pongjun, the charismatic leader of the Tonghak Peasants’ War. In the photo he is being captured and taken to an execution site on a carrier held by two workers and guarded by two government officers. This photo is titled “Carrying to Execution,” courtesy of William Elliot Griffis Collection, Special Collections and University Archives, Rutgers University Libraries.

carrying out social reform. Serious struggles existed between the Tonghak peasant army and government forces. To suppress the Tonghak peasant army the threatened central government invited in Chinese armed forces. The uninvited Japanese government also sent troops to Korea under the pretext of protecting their own citizens living in Korea. China and Japan fought a war in Korea at the time of the Tonghak uprising, and Japan won; it came to be called the First Sino-Japanese War. After that the Korean government forces, along with the victorious Japanese army, defeated the Tonghak peasant army. Even though the Tonghak armed uprising failed, its consequences were significant. The Tonghak movement installed the idea of equality among all humanity in the Korean mind, heightened commoners’ resistance to the yangban ruling class, enhanced nationalism, and increased awareness of Japanese interference with Korean affairs.17 It was perhaps the best-organized, largest-scale social movement ever in Korean history.

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A final remark on the relationship between the Tonghak movement and the practice of geomancy in Korea is that the Tonghak movement’s doctrines incorporated some geomantic ideas, as discussed above, and a leader of the armed uprising, Chŏn Pongjun, had used the profession of geomancy to earn income, and he actually believed in geomancy to a degree. 4. Summary Remarks on Geomancy and Social Upheavals The three large-scale popular armed uprisings in Korean history discussed above are the major sociopolitical movements and rebellions against the ruling class in the capital since the establishment of the Koryŏ dynasty in 918 AD. All of these uprisings, which affected the course of Korean history significantly, were associated with geomantic ideas. The traveling nature of professional geomancers’ work allowed uprising organizers to establish and expand networks and gather sympathizers. Uprising leaders used belief in an auspicious place with exceptional qualities and associated geomantic prophecies to motivate underprivileged or disgruntled people to join uprisings in hopes for a better world. It is interesting to note that these three major Korean social movements and uprisings were closely associated with the practice of geomancy among the common people in Korea. We have shown in this chapter the great influence of Korean geomantic ideas on Korean history in terms of armed uprisings or social upheavals. Whenever Korean society faced confusion or social disorder, the role of the geomancer and the geomantic prophecy became even more popular among the people. As a result, many different books of geomantic prophecies were widely circulated among the people. We have seen that, at times, large numbers of people left their homes to move to areas which were said to be auspicious according to geomantic prophecies. There were even times when people were incited to political rebellion due to the influence of geomantic prophecies. Notes   1. The discussion in this chapter is my new study on the impact of geomancy on popular uprisings and armed rebellions and is the main part of my paper, printed in electronic form only, as Hong-key Yoon, “Geomancy and Social Upheavals in Korea,” European Journal of Geopolitics 2 (2014): 5–23 at http://ptg.edu.pl/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/EJG2-2014.pdf.   2. Yi, Koryŏ Sidae-ŭi Yŏn’gu (1980), 244.   3. Yi, Koryŏ Sidae-ŭi Yŏn’gu (1980), 212–27; and Yoo Yeong Bong, “Han’guk Sahak: Han’gug-ŭi Yŏksa-wa P’ungsu Chiri” (Korean Historiography: Korean History and Geomancy), Han’guk Sasang-gwa Munhwa (Korean Thought and Culture) 19 (2003): 259–60.   4. Yi, Koryŏ Sidae-ŭi Yŏn’gu (1980), 200.   5. Ibid., 203.   6. Ibid., 224.   7. Yoo, “Han’gug-ŭi Yŏksa-wa P’ungsu Chiri,” 270.   8. Ibid.



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  9. Kim Sun Joo, Marginality and Subversion in Korea: The Hong Kyongnae Rebellion of 1812 (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2007), 109. 10. Ibid. 11. Ibid., 109. 12. Yoo Yeong Bong, “Han’guk Sahak: Han’gug-ŭi Yŏksa-wa P’ungsu Chiri,” 273. 13. Ch’oe Cheu, Yongdam Yusa (Hymns from Dragon Lake), in Tonghak Nongmin Undong-p’yŏn (Tonghak Peasants’ Movement), Han’gukhak Charyo Ch’ongsŏ (Korean Studies Materials Series) No. 9-1 (Sŏngnam: Han’guk Chŏngsin Munhwa Yŏn’guwon, 1996), 126–27. 14. Ch’oe Cheu, “Mongjung Noso Mundapka” (Song of Questions and Answers between Elders and Youngsters in a Dream), in Ch’oe, Yongdam Yusa, 133. 15. Ch’oe Cheu, “Yongdamga,” in Ch’oe, Yongdam Yusa, 127. 16. The entry “Chŏn Pongjun,” Han’guk Minjok Munhwa Taebaekkwa Sajŏn (Encyclopedia of Korean Culture) database, ed. the Han’gukhak Chung’ang Yŏn’guwon (Academy of Korean Studies), accessed 23 January 2015, http://encykorea.aks.ac.kr/Contents/ Index?contents_id=E0049437; and Yoo, “Han’gug-ŭi Yŏksa-wa P’ungsu Chiri,” 272–73. 17. Lee Ki-baik, Han’guksa Sillon, trans. Edward W. Wagner and Edward J. Shultz, A New History of Korea (Seoul: Ilchogak, 1984), 287–88.

4 Government Affairs Relating to Geomancy during the Time of Premodern Korea1 Hong-key Yoon

Korean geomancy is not indigenous to Korea, but represents the Korean interpretation and adaptation of Chinese geomantic principles to Korean cultural, political, and physical aspects of the environment. Because Korean cultural and environmental characteristics differ from those in China, the developmental pattern of geomancy in Korea has also been different. When examining the history of Korean government affairs in relation to geomancy, it becomes clear that the government’s establishment of various bureaus of geomancy is based on the geomantic doctrine that an auspicious site benefits the people who occupy it. Because of this geomantic belief, government entities such as the king and his royal families were eager to find auspicious sites to make royal tombs, palaces, and other offices of administration so the sites would not be occupied by other citizens. The king and his government feared that if commoners occupied geomantically auspicious sites, they would gain mystic powers to stand against them. This belief led government authorities to find auspicious sites and construct royal tombs or government offices on them, sometimes forcing commoners out of their own land. To carry out these governmental affairs, the royal court authorities established some permanent bureaus of geomancy, as well as temporary geomantic bureaus such as the bureau of royal tomb construction. This is an important aspect of Korean history in relation to geomancy. The central government administered government geomancy examinations to recruit qualified professional geomancers. The government geomancers recruited were well versed in geomantic theories and could help select royal tomb and government building sites and offer advice on the conservation or creation of geomantic harmony in cities and other areas. All of the government examination subjects for geomancers appear to be Chinese classics or textbooks of geomancy, and there is little sign of Korean innovation of geomantic theories or Korean indigenous

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literature on geomancy. An important characteristic of Korean geomancy is the importation of Chinese theories and their application to a Korean cultural context. The art of geomancy was also very important to the elite class of Korea during the Koryŏ and Chosŏn dynasties. They studied geomantic textbooks and geomantic literature, imitating what the king and the ruling class did with geomancy, eager to find auspicious sites of their own use to ensure the prosperity of their families. I would now like to discuss in more detail the important aspects of geomancy during the Koryŏ and Chosŏn dynasties in terms of government examinations and geomantic textbooks. The discussion will be in four sections:

1. Government examinations for geomancers



2. Government bureaus of geomancers



3. Important textbooks of geomancy in Korea



4. Important geomancers 1. Government Examinations for Geomancers

Traditionally, scholarly geomancers were educated and selected by the government and worked for the government in handling geomantic affairs. Sometimes famous geomancers were called in by the government for special occasions, such as the selection of royal tomb sites, but most government geomancers were hired through government examinations. During the Koryŏ dynasty the government examination on important geomantic textbooks lasted for two days. The names of the books (examination subjects) were: Sinjip Chirigyŏng 新集地理經 (New Collection of Geomantic Classics) Yussisŏ 劉氏書 (Book of Yu) Chiri Kyŏlgyŏng 地理決經 (Decisive Book of Geomancy) Kyŏng’wigyŏng 經緯經 (Book Explaining Right and Wrong) Chigyŏnggyŏng 地鏡經 (Book of Land Mirror) Kusigyŏl 口示決 (Decision of Oral Manifestations) T’aejanggyŏng 胎藏經 (Book of Storing the Amnion and the Placenta) Kagyŏl 訶決 (Decision to Rebuke) Sukssisŏ 蕭氏書 (Book of Suk)2 The above books are apparently classic geomantic textbooks that guide geomancers’ fieldwork in determining auspicious places. However, they no longer exist, and we can only assume that they are probably the original Chinese geomantic textbooks or Korean adaptations of the Chinese texts and the contents of these books are not traceable bibliographically. An interesting aspect of these government examination subjects for geomancers is that key Chinese geomantic classics don’t



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appear. The exclusion of two key Chinese geomantic classics, the Zangjing by Guo Pu and the Qingwujing 靑烏經 (Classic of the Azure Crow) by Qingwuzi 靑烏子, from the government examination subjects may indicate that these classics were not yet introduced and popular in Korea at that time, or that the Koryŏ examinations for geomancers concerned mainly the practical field survey abilities of geomancers. However, the examination apparently required some knowledge of how to write letters to kings, and knowledge of the book, the Xiaojing 孝經 (Classic of Filial Piety). The Chosŏn dynasty, like the previous Koryŏ dynasty, also carried out government examinations to recruit geomancers. The Chosŏn government examination subjects for geomancers are stated in the Kyŏngguk Taejŏn 經國大典 (Supreme Code for Ruling the State), as follows: Chŏng’o 靑烏 (Azure Crow; must be the Qingwujing, supposedly written by Qingwuzi of the Han 漢 dynasty, and claimed to be the oldest geomancy classic in China). Kŭmnang 錦囊 (Silk Pouch; must be the Zangjing, also widely known as the Zangshu, by Guo Pu). Ho Sunsin 胡舜申; Hu Shunshen (probably refers to Dili Xinfa 地理新法 (New Principles of Geomancy) written by Hu Shunshen (1131–1162), a famous geomancer who lived in Suzhou, China. Myŏngsannon 明山論; Mingshanlun (Discourses on Auspicious Mountains), a book written by a geomancer during the Song 宋 dynasty in China as a handbook for professional geomancers doing field surveys. A widely used geomancy textbook during the Chosŏn dynasty. Chiri Munjŏng 地理門庭 (The Garden of Geomancy). Kamnyong 撼龍; Hanlongjing 撼龍經 (The Classic of Rousing Dragons). Ch’akmaekpu 捉脈賦 (The Song of Catching the Pulse). Ŭiryong 疑龍 (Suspicious Dragons). Tongnim Chodam 洞林照膽 (Grotto-grove/Shining-spleen). Kyŏngguk Taejŏn (The Supreme Code for Ruling the State).3 During the Chosŏn dynasty, almost all of the above listings, except the Kyŏngguk Taejŏn, were probably Chinese textbooks of geomancy. Certainly the first four classics (examination subjects) were widely known Chinese classics of geomancy. These books did not appear as Koryŏ examination subjects for geomancers. The appearance of two geomantic classics, the Zangjing by Guo Pu and the Qingwujing by Qingwuzi, may indicate significant development of Korean geomantic discourse during the Chosŏn dynasty. This could suggest that only in Chosŏn were these Chinese classics freely available for study and considered key geomantic literature in geomantic discourses at that time. Although the Koryŏ dynasty and the Chosŏn dynasty both administered government examinations to choose professional geomancers who would work for the

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royal court, their examination subjects were apparently very different. The Chosŏn dynasty examination adopted key geomantic texts from China, while the Koryŏ dynasty examination subjects seemingly do not include well-known geomancy classics such as the Zangshu. The Koryŏ examination listings seem to have included mostly practical handbooks for professional geomancers, to be applied in such cases as burying placenta or checking mountain forms. These differences could reflect the process of adopting Chinese geomantic techniques, and during the Chosŏn dynasty discourses on geomancy were perhaps more sophisticated and more academic than during the former dynasty. In terms of the examination subjects, the two dynasties were not closely related. This interesting fact needs further investigation and could be a study task for further researchers. During the Chosŏn dynasty the examinations for geomancers were divided into two steps: the preliminary examination, or ch’osi 初試, and the advanced examination, or poksi 覆試. According to the Kyŏngguk Taejŏn, the government examination for geomancers 地理科 (chirikwa) was one of the three subdivisions of the government examinations for the yin-yang group 陰陽科 (ŭmyangkwa).4 The other two subdivisions were the government examination for astrologer-astronomers 天文科 (chŏnmunkwa) and that for diviners or fortunetellers 命課學 (myŏngkwahak). In the preliminary examination for the yin-yang group, the government selected four successful candidates for geomancy, as many as ten for astronomy, and eight for divination. In the advanced examination, only two final candidates were selected in geomancy, five in astronomy, and four in divination. 2. Government Bureaus of Geomancy Those who successfully passed the advanced tests worked at the Sŏun’gwan 書雲觀, or the Bureau for Recording Clouds, whose name was later changed to the Kwansanggam 觀象監, Office of Examining Figures, where the geomancers, astronomers, and diviners were employed. The Sŏun’gwan was in charge of such affairs as astronomy, geomancy, the calendar, weather, and time (water clock).5 The bureau was probably established in Korea during the Koryŏ dynasty. During the early Koryŏ dynasty, the bureau was separately organized as the T’aebokkam 太卜監, or Bureau of Grand Divinators, and the T’aesaguk 太史局, or Office of Grand Historians.6 Later these were combined to form the Sŏun’gwan and continued to function until the end of the Chosŏn dynasty. The name of the bureau was changed several times, including to the Kwansanggam in 1425 (during the seventh year of King Sejong), and to the Saryŏksŏ 司歷署 during the reign of Prince Yŏnsan (1495–1506), only to revert to the Kwansanggam during the reign of King Chungjong (1506–1544). In spite of the name changes and changes in size, the bureau always functioned as the government organization in charge of astronomy, geomancy, and divination.7 Besides the regular bureau for geomancers, both the Koryŏ and Chosŏn dynasties established, from time to time, numerous temporary bureaus of special geomantic affairs. We mention here four of them:



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1. The Sallŭng Togam 山陵都監, or Office of Tomb Establishment Perhaps the most commonly set up temporary bureau of geomancy was that of the Sallŭng Togam. Whenever kings or queens died, temporary geomantic offices, called the Sallŭng Togam, were opened until the completion of the funeral. Famous geomancers from government agencies and local areas were called to the bureau. The geomancers selected an auspicious tomb site and provided advice about the construction of the royal tomb and the funeral ceremonies. This bureau was probably the most commonly established temporary geomantic office for special occasions. 2. The Ŭmyang Ch’aekchŏng Togam 陰陽冊定都監, or Bureau of Evaluating Geomancy Textbooks According to the T’aejo Sillok, or the Annals of King T’aejo, this bureau was established on the twelfth day of the seventh moon in 1394, to determine which geomantic principles were true and which were false. From this we can assume that there were many different theories for the same geomantic objects or affairs. Even now, geomantic textbooks present many conflicting geomantic principles. Temporary geomantic bureaus for the publication or collection of geomantic textbooks were occasionally established during both the Koryŏ and Chosŏn dynasties. 3. The Sanch’ŏn Pibo Togam 山川裨補都監, or Agency for Strengthening Mountains and Rivers This was a government agency temporarily established to reinforce the Korean landscape in terms of geomancy during the Koryŏ dynasty in 1198; it existed for twelve years. In the Koryŏsa, we read about the agency: “In the first year of King Sinjong (1197–1204), Ch’oe Ch’unghŏn [the dictator] gathered high government officers 宰樞 (chaech’u; chancellors and ministers), officers of the Chungbang 中房 or Council of Grand Generals, and geomancers to discuss geomantic reinforcement of the national landscape in order to insure [a long-lasting] future for the nation. For this reason, they established this agency.”8 The Sanch’ŏn Pibo Togam was set up as a temporary government bureau for environmental management, if we borrow a modern concept, to carry out landscape remodeling works where they thought geomantic deficiencies existed. This geomantic works were of course to improve the geomantic harmony of the landscape in Korea. Yi Pyŏngdo states that the bureau must have actively changed the Korean landscape by following geomantic principles.9 4. The P’ungsuhak 風水學, or Institute of Geomancy Here and there in the annals of the early Chosŏn dynasty the name of this institute and documents relating to it appear. Summaries of some of these documents are:

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• The Yejo 禮曹 (Ministry of Rites) proposed to appoint the person who achieved first place in the P’ungsuhak examination to a position in the Sŏun’gwan, or Bureau for Recording Clouds.10



• Young people were chosen and taught at the P’ungsuhak.11



• The Minister of Ceremonies and the head 提調 (chejo) of the P’ungsuhak went to examine the geomantic harmony of Hŏn Tomb 獻陵.12



• The head of the P’ungsuhak advised the king about the geomantic harmony of Seoul.13

In the above documents, the word chejo especially refers to the heads of small government bureaus. According to the contents of the documents, we can conclude that the P’ungsuhak was an institute that taught students geomancy, did research in geomancy, and advised the king in geomantic affairs. From the above we can again conclude that government geomancers were employed in permanent or temporary bureaus of geomancy to handle the geomantic affairs of the nation. 3. Important Textbooks of Geomancy during the Chosŏn Dynasty Although geomancy textbooks used in government examinations for geomancers were important to learned geomancers in Korea, not all of them have been popular among folk geomancers. The popular and important textbooks of geomancy in Korea include some classical Chinese geomantic textbooks and several Korean works on geomancy, which contain, for the most part, surveys of auspicious places of Korea and geomantic prophecies. The two most important Chinese textbooks on geomancy among Koreans are: Zangshu 葬書 (The Book of Burial—Changsŏ in Korean) This book is better known to Koreans as the Kumnanggyŏng 錦囊經 (Jinnangjing in Chinese). It is the standard classical work on geomancy; most Korean geomantic principles are based on this book. Tsang-shu is known as the writing of Guo Pu, the great patriarch of Chinese geomancy. Guo Pu lived in China during the Jin 晉 dynasty and is famous not only as a theoretician of geomancy but also as a writer of literary works and commanderies. Dili Renzi Xuezhi 地理人子須知 (Geomantic Facts that All Humanity Must Know; Chiri Inja Suji in Korean) This is an extensive collection and a popular edition on the art of geomancy, put together during the Ming dynasty in China. Written by two brothers, Xu Shanji 徐善



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繼 and Xu Shanshu 徐善述, the geomantic principles in this work are well explained

with many diagrams and examples. According to the colophon, this work was written in 1564 (明 嘉靖 甲子). It is probably the most popular and most widely referenced Chinese geomantic textbook in Korea, both among geomancers and general readers. There are also many geomantic prophecy books and manuals of geomancy compiled by Koreans. Some important geomantic prophecy books:

• Chŏnggamnok 鄭鑑錄 (Master Chŏng’s Mirror Record). This is the most famous and influential book of geomantic prophecy about Korean dynasties. The book stated that the Chosŏn (Yi) dynasty would collapse after five hundred years of rule and the Chŏng family would succeed to the dynasty at Mt. Kyeryong. Since the prophecy suggested that Mt. Kyeryong would be the future capital (center) of Korea, it still attracts geomantic migrations to the mountain area.



• Samhan Sallim Pigi 三韓山林秘記 (Secret Records of Korean Mountain Sites). A geomantic prophecy book predicting the destiny of Korean dynasties and the auspicious places in Korea. Author and date unknown.



• Tosŏn Pigi. Said to be Tosŏn’s geomantic prophecy, however it’s probably a later forgery. The book made predictions about the destiny of the Chosŏn (Yi) dynasty and the succession of the Chŏng family to the dynasty at Mt. Kyeryong as in Chŏnggamnok.

These works of geomantic prophecy, especially Chŏnggamnok, are responsible for causing what can only be called “geomantic migration”; at various times large movements of people took place as they sought auspicious places indicated by geomantic prophecies. For instance, Sindoan near Mt. Kyeryong, which is supposed to be one of the most auspicious places in Korea, as indicated in Chŏnggamnok, is famous for an influx of people for geomantic reasons. There are numerous kinds of geomantic manuals and surveys of auspicious places, compiled by Koreans. Most are hand-written manuscripts, but others are printed. During my field trips in 1974 I was able to purchase six old hand-copied manuscripts of geomantic textbooks from second-hand bookstores in Seoul. The names of the six hand-copied manuscripts with brush writing and traditional bookbinding: Chiri Yogyŏl 地理要訣 (Geomantic Principles to Be Sorted Out) Yangt’aek 陽宅 (Book of House Geomancy) Chiri Chŏngjong 地理定宗 (Main Principles of Geomancy) Sanpŏp Chŏnsŏ 山法全書 (Collection of Geomantic Principles [literally, “Mountain Principles”]) San’ga Yoram 山家要覽 (Book Required for Geomancers) Pagok 璞玉 (Gem of Guo Pu the Geomancer)14

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Figure 4.1. Nine examples of traditional Korean geomancy manuscripts, hand-copied. Photograph by Hong-key Yoon, November 2016.

The above books are mainly collections of excerpts of geomantic principles stated in Chinese geomantic classics. One of them, the Yangt’aek, is specifically about house geomancy, stating how to set a house to face in an auspicious direction or how to design a propitious floor plan for a house. The other five books deal with geomantic principles for examining auspicious grave sites or how to examine the auspiciousness of mountain formations. These hand-written copies with brush writing of premodern Korean geomancy texts on traditional rice paper may clearly indicate that numerous copies and editions of geomantic textbooks and manuals about choosing auspicious sites were available to the people of premodern Korean society. The number of premodern Korean books on different aspects of geomantic principles and geomantic prophecies would have been large indeed. The list of hand-copied geomantic manuscripts on Korean rice paper would be much larger if I included works not acquired. These manuscripts are no longer available for purchase in bookstores. The books I have acquired represent only a small sampling of the premodern geomantic literature in Korea. In 1974 I was able find only four modern books on geomancy in print from a well-known bookstore in Seoul. However, since then numerous books on geo-



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mancy have been published by contemporary professional geomancers and geomancy researchers in Korea. They are printed in modern book form like any other books in Korea and are sold in many bookstores. In one of the largest bookstores near the city center of Seoul, I noticed that one entire book shelf was filled with geomancy related books on various aspects of geomancy. This is a proof of the popularity of geomancy in Korean society today. Throughout the history of Korean geomancy there have been numerous professional geomancers, as well as scholars who knew geomancy well. We have chosen to list here three Buddhist monk-geomancers and one Confucian scholar-geomancer because of their great reputations among the common people (mainly in legends), their geomantic influence on the politics of their time, or both. Notes   1. The discussion in this chapter is a revised and rewritten part of excerpts from my earlier work, Yoon, Geomantic Relationships between Culture and Nature in Korea, 267–78.   2. For further discussion on this, see Chŏng Inji et al., Koryŏsa (The History of the Koryŏ Dynasty) (Seoul: Yŏnhŭi Taehakkyo, 1955), fasc. 73, 8.   3. Ch’oe Hang et al., Kyŏngguk Taejŏn (Supreme Code for Ruling the State), trans. the Pŏpchech’ŏ (Ministry of Government Legislation), vol. 1 (Seoul: Pŏpchech’ŏ, 1962), 208.   4. Ch’oe et al., Kyŏngguk Taejŏn, 208.   5. The information is based on the Koryŏsa, fasc. 76, 44; and Cho Tusun et al., ed., Taejŏn Hoet’ong (Comprehensive Compendium of the Supreme Code), 59.  6. Koryŏsa, fasc. 76, 44.   7. Yi, ed., Kuksa Taesajŏn, vol. 1, 154.  8. Koryŏsa, fasc. 77, part 31; and the Sahoe Kwahagwon (Academy of Social Sciences) Kojŏn Yŏn’gusil (National Classic Institute) (North Korea), ed., Koryŏsa Yŏkpon (Modern Korean Translation of the History of the Koryŏ Dynasty), vol. 7 (P’yŏng’yang: Kwahagwon Ch’ulp’ansa, 1966), 254. Yi Pyŏngdo introduces essentially the same historical record based on Koryŏsa Chŏryo (An Abridgement of the History of the Koryŏ Dynasty) in his book, Yi, Koryŏ Sidae-ŭi Yŏn’gu (1980), 272.   9. Yi, Koryŏ Sidae-ŭi Yŏn’gu (1980), 272–76. 10. Sejong Sillok, fasc. 22, 13. 11. Sejong Sillok, fasc. 83, 12. 12. Tanjong Sillok (Annals of King Tanjong), fasc. 6, 2. 13. Sejo Sillok (Annals of King Sejo), fasc. 34, 19–20 and 21–24. 14. The authors and dates of these manuscripts are not indicated in them.

5 A Glimpse of Environmental Management through Geomancy in Korean History Hong-key Yoon

Geomancy has affected human behavior mainly through influencing the location of structures such as houses, graves, and settlements. Geomancy is and has always been a “superstitious” art of finding auspicious places, probably having a more adverse impact on human ecology than a positive one in Korean history. However, on some occasions geomancy made a positive contribution to environmental management. Geomantic ideas allowed people to make minor modifications of the natural landscape to improve local environmental conditions through artificial means. This geomantic idea actively encouraged ecological environmental management; for example, due to geomantic considerations, groves around the graves of commoners and the tombs of royals were conserved and sometimes guarded, while the government attempted to control rubbish dumping into streams in Capital City of Seoul during the Chosŏn dynasty. There are many other aspects of Korean cultural ecology or positive environmental management relating to geomancy that would be too lengthy to list here. Geomantic ways of thinking and living have been an integral part of Korean environmental management. Thus, without understanding of geomancy and its influence, it would be almost impossible to understand Korean culture-nature relationships or environmental management. In this chapter I attempt to document from historical sources and discuss the impact of geomancy on certain kinds of trees in home gardens, on forests associated with graves in particular, and on controlling stream pollution. It is not intended to be a comprehensive chronological documentation of environmental management in Korea, but attempts to highlight the existence of close relationships between geomancy and human use of streams (water pollution control and river management) and vegetation (certain trees and forest).

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1. Official Records on the Impact of Geomancy on Vegetation in Korean History Human impact on vegetation through the practice of geomancy has been significant. As the Zangjing instructs us, a mountain poorly covered with vegetation cannot be an auspicious mountain in geomancy no matter how well shaped it is: A bare or poorly vegetated mountain is known as a “child mountain 童山” (tongsan) and is one of five inauspicious mountains that are not capable of delivering vital energy to an auspicious site.1 To a geomancer (such as Chang Yongdŭk), the quality and quantity of vegetation in an area are important criteria in determining the quality of a mountain (a location): a mountain with thick vegetation is auspicious since the land has enough vital energy to support it.2 Historically, this idea is supported by the following statement in the Xuanhe Fengshi Gaoli Tujing 宣和奉使高 麗 圖經 (Illustrated Report of the Chinese Embassy to Koryŏ in the Xuanhe Era) by Xu Jing 徐競, who visited Korea (Koryŏ dynasty) as a Chinese envoy during the Song dynasty: “There are no full time professional firewood collectors, and both minors and adults collect and bring as much wood as they can from the mountains, outside the city wall whenever they find time. Because the people are not allowed to cut trees in the mountains near the city wall due to forbiddance based on geomantic reasons 陰陽有忌, there are many big trees there which make a lovely green shade.”3 Throughout the history of the world, mountains around human settlements have usually suffered from overcutting, because the settlers needed the food and fuel that could be obtained from them. Apparently, mountains around big cities in Korea have always been subject to exploitation by the people. However they have been fairly well protected from exploitation by government agencies due to geomancy. Mountains surrounding cities were very important for the geomantic harmony of the area due to the belief that if the mountains were denuded, the geomantic harmony of the place would be broken, and the auspiciousness of the area would no longer be available to the city. For these geomantic reasons, when a mountain, an important city, or a royal tomb was losing its vegetation, government agencies would often plant trees in addition to trying to preserve the existing vegetation. In doing so they believed that the geomantic harmony of the city could be maintained. Several historical documents inform us of the conservation of existing vegetation and the planting of trees to thicken the layer of the vegetation for geomantic reasons. According to the Koryŏsa, the following events are recorded concerning preserving and planting trees in the auspicious mountains around the capital for geomantic reasons:

• “On the day of Dingsi 丁巳 (Chŏngsa in Korean) in the fourth moon of 1035 [first year of King Chŏngjong’s reign] the Yebu 禮部 (Ministry of Rites) recommended that firewood not be taken from auspicious mountains near the capital and that trees be planted there. The king approved the recommendation.”4



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• “On the day of Gengchen 庚辰 (Kyŏngjin in Korean) in the second moon of 1041 [seventh year of King Chŏngjong’s reign], the Kongbu 工 部 (Ministry of Public Works) recommended that pine trees be planted on the east and west slopes of Mt. Song’ak to make the palace more auspicious. The king ordered that this plan be carried out.”5



• “On the day of Jimao 己卯 (Kimyo in Korean) in the fifth moon of 1036 [second year of King Chŏngjong’s reign], an edict prohibited the collection of firewood from the auspicious mountains near the capital and other regions.”6



• “On the day of Yihai 乙亥 (Ŭlhae in Korean) in the second moon of 1106 [first year of King Yejong’s reign], the Ilgwan 日官 [Officer of the Sun; astronomer] told [the king], “Mt. Song’ak is the main mountain of the capital but rain has washed out much soil and sand. Thus, rocks are exposed and vegetation does not prosper. Please order that trees be planted to reinforce the vegetation.” This recommendation was approved.”7

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Since the capital city was supposed to be the most important auspicious place in the nation and a place that could determine the nation’s destiny, the royal court had a special interest in maintaining its geomantic harmony. The conservation of vegetation for geomantic reasons was ecologically sound and made a favorable impact on the natural growth. Much like the Koryŏ dynasty, the Chosŏn dynasty also made great efforts to keep the capital auspicious by maintaining thick vegetation on the mountains.

• “In the fifth moon of 1428 (tenth year of King Sejong’s reign) the king ordered the planting of pine trees on the main mountain of Kyŏngbok Palace and on the west side of the palace.”8



• “In the eleventh moon of 1445 (twenty-seventh year of King Sejong’s reign), based on a recommendation from the Pyŏngjo 兵曹 (Ministry of War), the Ŭijŏngbu 議政府 (Supreme Policy Council) proposed [to the king] that: From the four mountains of the outside city wall to Mt. Ach’a 峨嵯山 all mountains have been placed off limits to firewood and timber collectors. However, the Oncoming Dragon of the main mountain [of Seoul], Mt. Samgak 三角山, Chŏngnyangdong 淸凉洞, the north of Chunghŭngdong 重興洞 and Mt. Tobong 道峰山 are not [officially] protected by such prohibition [of collecting wood]. Thus, day by day, people who collect firewood and lumber stream into [those areas], clear trees and make the mountain more barren. Therefore, please, appoint mountain rangers from among the inhabitants in those areas to prohibit the clearing [of vegetation]—the king made such a decree.”9

These are some of the important documents concerning the impact of geomancy on vegetation in the capital area during the Koryŏ and Chosŏn dynasties.

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Just as the royal government managed vegetation in the capital area, so local county agencies probably also managed vegetation near county capitals, although records of such management can hardly be traced since few documents survive. Within the existing geomantic harmony, the Chosŏn dynasty has developed a city of balanced size that fits well into the surrounding environment. The important mountains around the city have been carefully protected from denudation. Presently, however, the geomantic balance of Seoul is being completely ignored and destroyed by the monstrous developments of a large metropolitan area. The downtown area is now filled with tall buildings, many small streams inside the old city are covered with concrete, and the sacred mountains and hills are covered with houses and apartments. 2. A Small Grove of Trees Around a Commoner’s Grave as a Means of Environmental Management By the later part of the nineteenth century, mountains near settlements in Korea had been fairly well cleared of trees by the woodcutters of commercial enterprises and peasant firewood collectors. Also, since the turn of the twentieth century, the clearing of vegetation in Korea has been accelerated to meet the increasing demand for firewood and lumber. In the denuded mountains and hills, one sometimes finds small groves of big trees (mainly pines). These groves usually have one or more graves within them. Several square feet around the graves are usually cleaned and covered with grass, while beyond the grass, the area is covered with trees (usually tall pine trees).

Figure 5.1A. A few remaining pine trees around three grave mounds. Photo by Hong-key Yoon from Sŏnsan County, North Kyŏngsang Province, November 1973. Figure 5.1B. A row of mature pine trees surrounding a grave mound. These pines are protected and guarded by the descendants of the persons buried in the graves to protect the auspiciousness of the grave sites. When a geomancer pointed out an auspicious site for a grave, even if it was in the middle of a villager’s farm field, descendants would make a grave there and protect it with pines around it. Photo by Hong-key Yoon from Sŏnsan County, North Kyŏngsang Province, November 1973.



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Figure 5.2. A pine grove around a family graveyard. This well-established pine grove is protected by the descendants of the grave to ensure the auspiciousness of the grave is conserved. Photograph by Hong-Key Yoon from Sŏnsan County, North Kyŏngsang Province, November 1973.

These trees have survived the process of forest denudation. Most of these trees should have been preserved due to two requirements: First, because geomancy teaches that mountains with poor vegetation are inauspicious whether the lack of growth is natural or manmade, people have tried to keep trees around grave areas to save the location from being barren and thus inauspicious. Second, Trees surrounding a grave site may act as a fence for the grave and be able to keep out wind, because calming wind with groves or surrounding hilly landforms around an auspicious site is of prime importance in geomancy. In a denuded area, a group of trees surrounding a grave can protect from wind, and as such they may help to keep the grave calm (these trees thus represent in miniature the White Tiger and the Azure Dragon). Theoretically, an auspicious grave site should be located in the most propitious spot of the area or in a geomancy cave well surrounded by mountains with flourishing vegetation. Practically speaking, however, obtaining such a place in denuded areas is very hard for common people, who lack financial resources (to make modifications). Even if one could find such a place, it would not be possible to keep the whole geomantic landscape (which includes the mountains surrounding the geomancy cave) covered with forest, since the demand for timber and firewood would be so great. Therefore, most grave owners have tried to keep some trees around the grave as a final effort to save its auspiciousness. We can say that these small graves with nearby trees are monuments of the common people’s endeavor to keep the land auspicious and the signs of positive geomantic impact on Korean environmental management. 3. Royal Graves and Conservation of Forest Powerful people, such as the royal family, were able to keep larger areas around their graves from being denuded. Just like the capital of the nation, the king’s tomb was always placed in an auspicious place and was carefully managed so as not to disturb

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the vital energy of the area. In the Chosŏn Wangjo Sillok (Annals of the Chosŏn Dynasty), we can see many efforts to keep vegetation undisturbed in the area of the king’s tomb. For example, on the nineteenth day of the second moon of the twenty-ninth year of King Sejong (1447), the king gave an order to reopen mountain passes near the royal tombs of Kŏnwonnŭng Tomb, Chenŭng Tomb, and Hŏnnŭng Tomb, because the closing of those roads had caused too much inconvenience to the peasants who had farms in the vicinity.10 As we see from this decree of the king, the area of the royal tombs was made sacred and was protected from disturbance by common people, who would have liked to collect firewood and harvest lumber. This was done, of course, to keep the vegetation luxuriant through prohibiting the entrance of woodcutters, and by closing roads that interfered with the geomantic harmony of the tomb. Besides conserving trees in a tomb area, if a certain place was chosen for a tomb site and the vegetation was not luxuriant, modifications could be made to reinforce the geomantic harmony by planting more trees. When a royal tomb was made, all cultural objects and activities of the common people were removed from the area to keep the tomb site auspicious. The common people were forced to relocate all graves, farmlands, and houses, and firewood collection was prohibited in the geomantic area of the tomb. We mention here three instances of this situation as documented in the Chosŏn Wangjo Sillok:

1. “In the second moon of 1444 [twenty-sixth year of King Sejong’s reign], according to a geomancer’s advice all graves in the geomantic area of a king’s tomb, Hŏnnŭng Tomb, were removed and the road to the west of the main mountain was closed.”11



2. “In the sixth moon of 1470 [first year of King Sŏngjong’s reign], farmlands in the outlying areas of a king’s tomb, Yŏngnŭng Tomb, were returned to the people for cultivation.”12



3. “In the fourth moon of 1497 [third year of Prince Yŏnsan’s reign], the king allowed the farmers to cultivate their lands in the area between the two table mountains of the king’s tomb, Sŏnnŭng Tomb 宣陵.”13

The area of a tomb often comprised several valleys. Since all common life activities, such as farming, were prohibited within such areas, the people who lived around the tombs were forced to make great personal sacrifices. The only options were to illegally use the land or leave the area. Some appealed to the government for permission to till land that was not very important for the geomantic harmony of the tomb. That is the reason, as some dynastic annals record, that the government returned some marginal lands in the area of the royal tombs to the people for cultivation. Following are two examples of such a case:

• “On the day of Guihai 癸亥 [Kyehe in Korean] in the sixth moon of 1400 . . . Ku Ch’igwan 具致寬 returned from Yŏngnŭng Tomb [the tomb



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of King Sejong] and reported [to the king] that the abandoned farmland of the outlying foothills of the western mountains of the tomb, the northern foothills of the main mountain [of the tomb], the outlying foothills of the Azure Dragon [of the tomb] and the outside of the table mountain [of the tomb] could be returned to the people for cultivation.”14

• “On the day of Jiawu 甲午 [Kabo in Korean] in the fourth moon of 1497, [the king] issued a decree allowing people to cultivate the rice paddies 水田 [literally, ‘water fields’] located in the area between the inner and outer table mountain of Sŏnnŭng Tomb [i.e., a king’s tomb] and to pile up earth [i.e., soil] and plant trees at the outside of the inner table mountain foothills in order to prevent [the farmers’] invasion of the land by [future] cultivation.”15

Considering that farming was forbidden and planting trees was ordered to keep necessary land from cultivation, we can infer that they were greatly concerned with conserving thick vegetation, as geomantic principles required. 4. Preference for Certain Trees in Geomancy for Cosmological Harmony People were very enthusiastic about conserving vegetation in auspicious places where cities and tombs were established. This favorable impact on vegetation was ecologically sound and contributed to the Koreans’ harmonious relationship with nature, by planting trees on mountains that were auspicious but lacked lush vegetation. It is possible that geomancers advised the people to reinforce the growth of trees in certain areas to make them more auspicious with lush vegetation. Such an area then became, in part, an artificially established auspicious mountain as seen in a historical document in the Koryŏsa (History of Koryŏ Dynasty). The story is about the advice of a geomancer to plant pine trees on Mt. Song’ak to reinforce the geomantic harmony of the area by increasing the lushness of the vegetation. It goes as follows: At this time, a Kamgan 監干 of the Silla dynasty, P’arwon 八元, who was a profound geomancer, reached Puso County [present-day Kaesŏng] and was amazed by the beauty of the northern part of Puso-san in the northern part of the county. He sent his servant to Kang Ch’ung to tell the people, “If you move the county [settlement] to the southern part of the mountains and plant pine trees there, the rocks of the mountains will be hidden by the trees. If the rocks are thus hidden, a great man who will unify the three Hans [i.e., three Korean dynasties] will be born in the county.” [After hearing this] Kang Ch’ung and the county people moved the settlement to the south of the mountain and planted pine trees in order to cover the

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rocks. They also changed the name of the county to Song’akkun 松嶽郡 [which literally means “Pine Mountain County”].16 There is no way to prove or disprove the truthfulness of the above traditional legend-like story. It is true, however, that Mt. Song’ak was often “reinforced” by planting pines throughout the Koryŏ dynasty.17 Even if the story is not based on a historical event, it informs us of the people’s attitude concerning the transformation of an inauspicious tongsan (“child mountain,” poorly vegetated mountain) into an auspicious mountain (mountain with dense vegetation). Geomancy has also had a significant impact on vegetation by encouraging the planting of a certain kind of tree in particular locations to either form or destroy the geomantic harmony of the area. For instance, to destroy the auspiciousness of Kim’s village, it is claimed in a legend that the famous governor of Andong County, Maeng Sasŏng, planted lacquer trees at the site of mulberry groves.18 It is also said that during the Koryŏ dynasty, to destroy or suppress the auspiciousness of Hanyang, plum trees were cultivated in the area and then suddenly slashed.19 Another aspect of the impact of geomancy on vegetation is seen in the selection of plants for the house yard. According to the principles of house geomancy, shown in the Sallim Kyŏngje 山林 經濟 (Farm Management) by Hong Mansŏn 洪 萬選 (1643–1715), a certain kind of plant can only be planted in a certain quarter of the house site to make the geomantic harmony viable (for the extraction of benefits from the harmony). Some examples of the book’s discussion on house plants: Planting jujube trees 棗 to the west of the house will be beneficial to the cattle [of the house]. Planting it in the southwestern corner [of the house] or in the south [of the house] is good. [Planting] two jujube trees in front of the great [i.e., main] gate 門庭 is also auspicious 吉. Planting weeping willows 柳 to the east of the house will make the house prosperous. Having a weeping willow at the west of the house is inauspicious and brings bad luck. However, having green bamboo at the west of the house will bring wealth to the house.20 The book also suggested not having a big tree near the front of the house, and advised not to plant a peach tree around water wells. Sallim Kyŏngje also suggested according to house geomancy principles that plants can compensate or substitute for the lack of auspicious geomantic landforms, such as the White Tiger and the Azure Dragon, on a house site. It declared that planting peaches and weeping willows to the east of the house, Chinese plums and jujubes in the south, pomegranates in the west, and almond and bullace trees (large yellow plum or damson trees) could substitute for the Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Red Bird, and Black Tortoise.21 In summary, some plants were chosen for certain locations to suppress inauspiciousness, while others were planted to extract the benefits of an auspicious direction or location.



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5. Geomancy and Forest Land Tenure Geomancy has significantly influenced vegetation by affecting Korean land tenure concerning forest and open lands, as studied by Chi Yongha in his book, Han’guk Imjŏngsa (The History of Forest Policy in Korea), which aroused my interest in the study of the theme and significantly influenced the following discussion.22 Traditionally, Korean forests, mountains, rivers, and marshlands belonged to the public; private ownership was prohibited by the government. This tradition was often violated by powerful and wealthy families, as seen in the annals of Korean dynasties. According to the T’aejo Sillok, on the day of Yihai in the eleventh moon of 1396 (fourth year of King T’aejo’s reign), the following appeal was made by the kan’gwan 諫官 (officer of reparation): “Mountains and waters belong to all the people and are open to everyone for use. However, some people who are in power, occupy this land and claim the property rights. This is against public righteousness. Therefore, [I] hope that [you, the king] will order all local government agencies to find out who has occupied and claims property right over public mountains and waters and have the agencies report it to the Sahŏnbu 司憲府 [Censorate]. Then, let the Sahŏnbu investigate the violators and prohibit their criminal deeds. If the heads of [local counties] give sway to the people in power [i.e., violators] and thus do not report them [to the Sahŏnbu], please consider them to be the same as the violators.” The king agreed and gave the order.23 Because of the absence of documents, we do not know how well the king’s order succeeded in punishing the violators and returning the lands (mainly forests) to the people. However, it is clear that the government did not acknowledge the private ownership of forests or other open lands that provided firewood for the public.24 Despite the strict state policy concerning the prohibition of private property, royal tombs and even grave sites of the common people were exempted from the policy. Ironically, government officials protected the people’s right to keep their graves geomantically sacred. In particular, huge areas around royal tombs were made into sanctuaries; common people could not enter these areas to cut trees or other plants. Therefore, all vegetation in such areas has been well preserved. There were even tomb rangers called nŭng ch’ambong 陵參奉 for royal tombs; their job was to protect the vegetation and to manage the tombs. Like the royal family, all families were allowed to keep a grave area sacred, although the size of the private grave area was limited by law according to social status.25 Such lands were protected from the various means of clearing vegetation such as tilling and grazing.26 Although a small sacred area was allowed to lowerclass people, actually a much larger area was necessary to keep a good geomantic harmony. Everyone must have had a great desire to keep all the area needed to

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retain geomantic harmony and to keep a grave sacred and auspicious. Therefore, some people who were rich or in a position of power attempted to keep all the geomantically required area as sacred. In practice, forests around graves officially or unofficially were under the administration of the grave owners. This practice might be, as Chi Yongha has suggested, the beginning of private ownership of forest land in Korea: “Thus, in order to install graves in auspicious places, the grave sites were not restricted to settlement areas but were gradually extended to areas remote from settlements. For the same reason, people were apt to include the forests near their graves in the grave area, and, naturally, powerful families attempted to extend their grave area by encroaching upon public zones.”27 The purpose of occupying forests adjacent to a grave has to be considered along with that of conserving the auspiciousness of the grave, because forests were privately occupied to conserve graves. When there were any shortcomings in the grave area in terms of geomantic harmony, the forest could be fostered or cut to reinforce the needed auspicious geomantic harmony of a grave. Chi Yongha also points out that to keep the grave sacred, people even hired seniti 山지기 (literally, mountain rangers: functionally, grave managers), who took care of their graves and the adjacent forests, especially when graves were located far from their residence.28 It is clear that for geomantic reasons, it became necessary to bury one’s ancestors far from their residence, and for the same reason, sanjigi had to be hired to manage the graves and the vegetation of the area. This process was how private ownership of forest land developed in Korea. Therefore, it is correct, as Chi Yongha points out, that since private ownership of forests developed through officially acknowledged grave area ownership, the private ownership of forests did not conflict with the government’s policy against private ownership of the forest.29 In concluding this section, we can state that geomancy has been a prime factor in forest conservation in Korea. The positive influences of geomancy on vegetation areas are as follows:

• Planting trees



• Conservation of existing trees



• Development of private ownership of forests



• Determining the favorable and unfavorable characteristics of plants around houses and locating them at certain positions around the house

Geomancy, however, also has had some negative impact on forests arising from the unnecessary building of structures (such as palaces, etc.) that required significant clearance of forests. 6. Serious Geomantic Debates on Water Pollution Geomantic influence on human behavior has not been limited to finding locations for structures; it was extended to the control of human waste that caused water



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pollution and the arrangement of settlement landscapes in the effort to manage the environment more prudently. Here I introduce some examples of the impact of geomancy on water pollution and serious discourses on geomantic reasons for controlling water pollution. From the eleventh moon of 1444 to the twelfth moon of 1444 (twenty-sixth year of King Sejong’s reign), there had been serious discussions about saving the streams in Seoul from pollution. The discussions commenced when Yi Sŏnno 李善 老 in the Chiphyŏnjŏn 集賢殿 (Hall of Worthies) made a proposal to prohibit the dumping of sewage and garbage into the streams of Seoul. Yi Sŏnno’s proposal was based on a statement from a Chinese geomantic work called the Donglin Zhaodan 洞林照膽, which states that if waters in an auspicious place smell bad, the place adversely influences the descendants. Apparently the streams of Seoul were badly polluted from the sewage and garbage produced from the more than 100,000 inhabitants of the city.30 In the section on the nineteenth day of the eleventh moon of 1444 in the Sejong Sillok, this incident is recorded:31 At that time, Yi Sŏnno, the officer of such’an 修撰 from the Chiphyŏnjŏn suggested that a reservoir should be built west of the palace wall in order to bring water to Yŏngje Bridge [over a pond in the palace]. He also suggested prohibiting the dumping of dirty and smelly materials into the streams [of Seoul] to keep them pure. When the king received the proposal, he ordered his councilors to discuss it. Most of the high government officers, including the famous prime minister, Hwang Hŭi, had a meeting to discuss the proposal and decided to take serious and strict action to prohibit the dumping of sewage and garbage into the streams. The Sejong Sillok has the following entry:32 Prime Minister, Hwang Hŭi . . . and other officials discussed and reported [to the king] to put off making the reservoir until the coming autumn and to clean up the water in the streams by immediately ordering each department of Seoul 漢城府 郎廳 and the Susŏng Kŭmhwa Togam 修城禁 火都監 [Bureau for Repairing City Walls and Extinguishing Fires] to act accordingly. The bureaus and departments would share the task by creating duty zones inside the city wall and prohibiting inhabitants from throwing dirty and smelly materials into the streams. It was suggested that the high officers in the city office of Seoul 漢城府堂上 and the head of the Susŏng Kŭmhwa Togam supervise the work and that the Sahŏnbu patrol the streams at off intervals and arrest violators. The above assembly decided to recommend that the king take immediate action on cleaning the waters in Seoul. Their decision, however, encountered an objection presented by an officer, Kwon Che 權提, who on the same day wrote an appeal to

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the king to refuse a consenting decision on the project. The annals entry on this is as follows: Then, the Chwach’amch’an 左參贊 [Sixth State Councilor] Kwon Che appealed to the king by letter, saying, “Many geomantic theories have been discussed by geomancers. Some theories, however, are not logical or rational, and we should not follow a book’s theory in making such decisions. Moreover, in the geomantic works, some discussions are about graves while others are about cities and settlements. Moreover, since the books are not consistent in determining whether a certain condition is auspicious or inauspicious, how can we then depend on only one geomantic work, the Donglin Zhaodan 洞林照膽 in making a decision on such a difficult question. It is the belief of [your humble] officer that the restrictions entailed in the proposal would cause the people much suffering and the government would, in the end, not efficiently achieve its aim.” Then, the king ordered that a study be made of the matter by the P’ungsuhak [Office of Geomancy].33 Actually, as Kwon Che suggested, prohibiting the dumping of garbage and sewage into the streams of Seoul would have been very difficult unless an alternate disposal system was developed. That is one of the possible reasons that the king withheld the decision and ordered the P’ungsuhak to study the proposal further. About a month later, on the twenty-first day of the twelfth moon, 1444, a letter, seriously objecting to the decision to clean the waterways, was presented to the king by Ŏ Hyoch’ŏm 魚孝瞻, a thoughtful officer of the Chiphyŏnjŏn [Hall of Worthies]. A part of his letter reads as follows: [I, your humble] officer, have examined the geomantic work under consideration. In this work, the author, Fan Yuefeng 范越鳳, who was a geomancer during the Five Dynasties period of China, says that “Things which make foul odours bring about a situation of perishing descendants.” This is stated in “Xuemaibian 血脈編” [Blood Veins] in the Donglin Zhaodan. In “Xiongqibian 凶氣編” [Bad Energy], Fan Yuefeng says that foul smelling and polluted water in the area of the Bright Yard is a sure sign that misfortune will follow. Now the main body of this work is concerned with the auspiciousness or inauspiciousness of grave sites and is not concerned with the features of capital cities. Fan Yuefeng probably thought that since the spirits of the dead like cleanliness, if the waters are dirty, such a response [of bringing misfortune] could occur due to the discomfort of the spirits. But I repeat, his discussion was not concerned with capital cities. In cities, many people live close together and prosperously, and dirty and smelly materials easily accumulate. Thus, in order to keep the city clean, there should be streams throughout the length and breadth of the



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cities which can carry impurities away. Then, the waters naturally cannot be kept clean. Now, if we desire to keep the city waters as clean as mountain waters by applying the [geomantic] principles for graves, we will surely fail. If [we] take a logical viewpoint, we see that just as life and death are opposites, so are spirits and living beings. How can we then apply principles about graves to cities? And if we wish to apply such ideas to [to the capital of our nation], it is possible to adopt all of these [geomantic principles] to the capital, despite the fact that all the geomantic discussions in the geomantic literature are so inconsistent? [Moreover], are all natural conditions 形勢 of our national capital accountable according to the principles of geomancy except these aspects [i.e., foul odors and the road at the northern side of the palace]? Although many things in our city are not apparently accommodating to the principles of [grave] geomancy, should we move everyone’s house outside the city wall and try to do everything based on principles of auspiciousness and inauspiciousness which say that it is not allowable to have people’s residences within a grave area? Moreover, since people’s residences are close to the palaces at the right side of Kyŏngbok Palace and the left side of Ch’angdŏk Palace, should we remove all those houses? . . . In any case, if we cannot follow all the principles [of grave geomancy], why should we worry about only these few things?34 When King Sejong read the letter (a section of this letter was also quoted on pp. xxx–xxx), he was very much impressed by the logical and rational arguments pointing out the fallacy of trying to do everything based on geomancy. The king then presented the following comments on Ŏ Hyoch’ŏm’s letter to the Sŭngjŏng’won 承政院 (Bureau of Preserving Good Rule): Ŏ Hyoch’ŏm’s discussion is sincere and impressive. Apparently, books on geomancy are not entirely believable, although people throughout history have applied the art. Since Ministers Ha Ryun, Chŏng Cho, and Chŏng Inji know these books well; if there are questions on geomancy, ask them rather than let Ŏ Hyoch’ŏm work with matters of geomancy. Because he does not believe in the art, he would not work for it with sincerity. The truthfulness or fallacy of geomancy is not to be determined by myself. Thus, I will discuss this with the heads of the [related] bureaus.35 After commenting on the letter, the king gave it to the P’ungsuhak.36 Through the above procedure, the proposal to prohibit the pollution of city streams was withdrawn. We do not, however, know whether the project was completely abolished or whether it materialized later. Considering the difficulty of the project, the lack of records on its fate, and the king’s impression of Ŏ Hyoch’ŏm’s letter, it probably did not come into being. If it had, the Sejong Sillok would have recorded it, since

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the book records almost every important governmental event. The annals, however, did record that many people were much in favor of Ŏ Hyoch’ŏm for his extremely righteous discussion. It is probable that thanks to the rationalists, a geomantic contribution to the prohibition of environmental contamination was withheld. The event, however, well demonstrates the attitude of geomancers toward environmental pollution and is one of the earliest discussions on how to battle against river water pollution in Korea. Also, the geomantic principle in the Donglin Zhaodan, “foul smelling water is a symptom which leads to perishing descendants,” has a great ecological value even from a modern public health and conservation point of view. Notes   1. Guo Pu, Zangshu (The Book of Burial), in Jingjiao Dili Zhengzong (Meticulously Proofread Orthodox Lineage of Geomancy), ed. Jiang Guozong (Shinchu, Taiwan: Chulin Shuchu, 1967), fasc. 2, 4. The discussion in the chapter is a revised version of excerpts from my earlier book, Yoon, Geomantic Relationships Between Culture and Nature in Korea, 118–131.  2. From an interview with Mr. Chang Yongdŭk in Chŏnnongdong 典農洞, Tongdaemun’gu 東大門區, Seoul, on 19 February 1974.  3. Xu Jing, Xuanhe Fengshi Gaoli Tujing (The Illustrated Report of the Chinese Embassy to Koryŏ in the Xuanhe Era) (Seoul: Imanishi Ryu, 1932), 119.   4. Koryŏsa, fasc. 6, 2.   5. Ibid., fasc. 6, 22.   6. Ibid., fasc. 6, 8.   7. Ibid., fasc. 12, 20.  8. Sejong Sillok (Annals of King Sŏngjong), fasc. 39, 1.   9. Ibid., fasc. 110, 13. 10. Ibid., fasc. 115, 14. 11. Ibid., fasc. 105, 7. 12. Ibid., fasc. 6, 14. 13. Yŏnsan’gun Ilgi (Annals of Prince Yŏnsan), fasc. 22, 32. 14. Sŏngjong Sillok, fasc. 6, 14. 15. Yŏnsan’gun Ilgi, fasc. 22, 32. 16. Koryŏsa, “Koryŏ Segye” (Koryŏ Genealogies), 2. 17. See Koryŏsa, fasc. 6, 2, 8, and 22 and fasc. 12, 20. 18. For the quotation of the legend, see Yoon, Geomantic Relationships between Culture and Nature in Korea, 142. 19. Yi Chung-hwan, T’aengniji (The Book of Choosing Settlements), trans. Yi Iksŏng, Han’guk P’ungsu Chirihag-ŭi Wonjŏn: T’aengniji (The Original Text of Geomancy in Korea: The T’aengniji), rev. ed. (Seoul: Ŭryu Munhwasa, 2002), 37–38. 20. Hong Mansŏn, Sallim Kyŏngje (Farm Management), handwritten manuscript with brush writing, copy in the East Asiatic Library, University of California, Berkeley, 23–24; Hong Mansŏn, Sinp’yŏn Kugyŏk Sallim Kyŏngje (New Modern Korean Translation of Farm Management), 2 vols., Minjok Munhwa Ch’ujinhoe Kojŏn Kugyŏk Ch’ongsŏ (Korean Classics Research Institute Korean Classics Translation Ser.) Seoul: Han’guk Haksul Chŏngbo, 2007), fasc. 1, 61–62; and Yu Chungnim, Chŭngbo Sallim Kyŏngje (Revised and Enlarged



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Farm Management), trans. Yun T’aesun et al., 3 vols., Konongsŏ Kugyŏk Ch’ongsŏ (Modern Korean Translation of Ancient Agricultural Books Ser.) Vols. 4–6 (Suwon: Nongch’on Chinhŭngch’ŏng, 2003), 61–64. 21. Hong, Sallim Kyŏngje, UC Berkeley, 23–24; and Hong, Sinp’yŏn Kugyŏk Sallim Kyŏngje, fasc. 1, 61–62. 22. Chi Yongha, Han’guk Imjŏngsa (The History of Forest Policy in Korea) (Seoul: Myŏngsusa, 1964), 48. 23. T’aejo Sillok (Annals of King T’aejo), fasc. 11, 13. 24. Chi, Han’guk Imjŏngsa, 20–49. 25. Ch’oe et al., Kyŏngguk Taejŏn, 268. 26. Ibid. 27. Chi, Han’guk Imjŏngsa, 48. 28. Ibid. 29. Ibid., 49. 30. According to the Chiriji (Book of Geography) in the Sejong Sillok, the population of Seoul amounted to 17,015 households, which is estimated to have been over 100,000 people. See the Sejong Sillok, fasc. 148, 2. This estimate is supported by another source, the Chŭngbo Munhŏn Pigo (1902 ed.), which states that the population of Seoul during the tenth year of King Sejong’s reign (1428) amounted to 16,921 households, or 103,328 people. See Hongmun’gwan, Chŭngbo Munhŏn Pigo, fasc. 161, “Hogugo” (Population Survey), 11. 31. Sejong Sillok, fasc. 106, 25. 32. Ibid. 33. Ibid. 34. Ibid., 32–35. 35. Ibid., 35. 36. Ibid.

6 Principal Characteristics of Korean Geomancy Hong-key Yoon

After reflecting on several decades of my own research on geomancy in Korea, I would like to propose the following seven points as the key characteristics of geomancy as practiced in Korea:

1. It is mainly associated with the form school.



2. It is preoccupied with grave geomancy.



3. There is a strong belief in reinforcing geomantic conditions through artificial means.



4. It is closely associated with geomantic prophecies.



5. There is a close association with social upheaval (armed uprisings).



6. It is believed that the vital energy of a place can wane or wax through time.



7. Geomancy has a strong impact on cartography.

Because geomancy was developed in China and then introduced to Korea, some or all of the above characteristics of Korean geomancy may also relate to geomancy in China. The present level of research on geomancy in China and Korea is not sufficient to compare and contrast the geomantic traditions in both countries and confirm that the above points are unique to Korea. Nevertheless, although some of the characteristics listed above may not be restricted to Korean geomancy alone, it is certain that they are all prominent characteristics of geomancy as practiced in Korea.

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In my earlier work, The Culture of Fengshui in Korea, I listed three types of Korean geomantic thought. The first was the basic geomantic belief that an auspicious site provides benefits to people 明堂發福論 (myŏngdang palbongnon), the second was that through artificial means, naturally endowed geomantic conditions can be improved 山川裨補論 (sanch’ŏn piboron), and the third was that the vital energy of an auspicious site can wax and wane, which means that the auspiciousness of a place can fluctuate between strong and weak 地氣衰旺論 (chigi soewangnon). My earlier views, however, did not go far enough, for the following two reasons. First, all impact of geomancy on Korean society and culture is due to people’s belief in the idea that an auspicious site manifests benefits to people—a basic idea. Second, too few aspects of Korean geomancy had been considered. Since then my search for and reflection on the characteristics of Korean geomancy has gone beyond my earlier incomplete view and I have come to believe that many more points could be listed. Among them, the seven points listed here are especially notable and worthy of elaboration. 1. Mainly Based on the Form (Landform-Landscape) School In China, two distinct schools of geomancy existed, in theory and in practice. They are the form school and the compass school. Although these two schools sometimes practiced as a loosely integrated system, they often practiced as two separate and distinct schools. For example, compass school geomancers from the Fujian School would not be interested in examining landform conditions around a house, but would be mainly interested in examining the floor plans, the directions a constructed structure such as a house or temple faced, and cosmological characteristics of the occupants. This is especially true of the geomancers who relied on “the method of Eight Houses (Mansions) and that of Flying Stars,” who would utilize numerology by converting a house floor plan and detailed cosmological denotations of the direction the building faced.1 This type of numerology and detailed examination of cosmological direction was not commonly practiced in Korea. Koreans mainly relied on the form school and field observations of landscape (mainly examining landforms and watercourses). Unlike in China, the compass school alone was rarely practiced in Korea; the form school was the main player in the practice of geomancy. Some aspects of numerology and detailed descriptions of compass directions were used by Korean geomancers as auxiliary and secondary considerations, once landform and water course conditions were satisfied. This aspect of Korean geomancy may be one means by which it is differentiated from Chinese geomancy. These different characteristics led geomancy in China to become more closely associated with divinations relating to numerology, whereas Korean geomancy continued to focus on field observation. In fact, in Korea, many geomancers are known as chaktaegi p’ungsu 작대기風水—geomancers who know how to identify auspicious places through field observation of landforms and watercourses, but



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Figure 6.1A. Some examples of geomantic compasses showing different rings for divining cosmological directions of auspiciousness, used by Korean geomancers. Some compasses have a single ring of twelve zodiac animals, while others show multiple rings with complicated signs for choosing auspicious directions and avoiding harmful directions. Korean geomancers normally used a geomantic compass to determine auspicious directions only after finding a suitable place with geomantically favorable landforms. The different types of geomantic compasses in the photograph are from Hong-key Yoon’s private collection. Figure 6.1B. A premodern geomancer’s compass with the lid and purse used to store it. Photograph by Annabelle Yoon, November 2016.

who do not know how to read geomantic textbooks written in classical Chinese and ignore (or do not know much about) the numerological-divination side of geomantic principles. 2. Preoccupation with Grave Geomancy Another key characteristic of Korean geomancy is Koreans’ obsession with practicing grave geomancy and their excessive enthusiasm for occupying auspicious grave sites, which has produced many social problems. As discussed in chapter 2, the tomb of King Wonsŏng was constructed at the Kogsa Buddhist temple site by the royal court authority as early as the eighth century during the Silla dynasty. It was constructed after the Buddhist temple was forced to shift to another site. This geomantic incident occurred because the temple site was considered to be an auspicious site for a royal tomb. Subsequent Korean dynasties, such as those of the Koryŏ and Chŏson periods, put great effort into constructing elaborate tomb-mausoleums for each king and maintaining royal tombs. During the Chosŏn dynasty many commoners’ geomantically auspicious graveyards were forcefully relocated to other locations so royal tombs could be constructed.

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Figure 6.2. A royal tomb of the Silla dynasty (57 BC–935 AD); known to be the tomb of the famous Silla general Kim Yusin. It is located in a geomantically auspicious site and elaborately decorated with stone carvings. Photograph by Hong-key Yoon, November 1973.

Figure 6.3A. The front view of Kŏnwonnŭng, the tomb of the First King of the Chosŏn dynasty (1392–1910). This photo is a distant view from the front of the royal tomb with stone statues of one civil officer, one military officer, and animals guarding the tomb. Photograph by In-choul Zho, 2007. Figure 6.3B. The view from the back of Kŏnwonnŭng, the tomb of the First King of the Chosŏn dynasty. The tomb is the dome-shaped earth mound in the center and is protected by a low-lying wall and a number of stone carvings of guardian animals. Photo by In-choul Zho, 2007.

Commoners’ passion for practicing grave geomancy is perhaps best reflected in the people’s frequent disputes over grave sites, when they searched for auspicious sites and when they defended the auspiciousness of their ancestral grave sites from other people’s violation of the site. Koreans fanatical interest in occupying an auspicious grave sites resulted in disputes that caused serious injuries or even death. Many of



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the surviving court litigation documents from the Chosŏn dynasty are related to the “disputes over grave sites” or sansong 山訟. Chŏng Yagyong, a well-known scholar, summarizes the situation: “Presently, the litigation in the courts for grave sites has become a troubling problem. About half of the fighting and assaults in death are due to this. Since it is said that the unfortunate acts of excavating graves [to move them to more auspicious places] are considered practicing filial piety by the people, it is necessary to clarify [the nature of geomancy in order to avoid such negative results].”2

Figure 6.4. The grave of Sŏngwagong, an army general during the Chosŏn dynasty from the Yoon family of Sŏnsan County, North Kyŏngsang Province. The grave is located in an auspicious site and the descendants pay homage to the grave with solemn ceremonial rites and sacrificial offerings every November. The photo shows ceremonial food offerings in front of the grave mound, and a monument dedicated to the general is seen on the far left. Photograph by Hong-key Yoon, November 1973.

Figure 6.5. A row of commoner’s family grave mounds of successive generations in Kyŏnggi Province. Photo by Hong-key Yoon, November 2002.

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Korean’s fanatical interest in occupying an auspicious grave site is based on geomantic belief that the most efficient means of extracting benefit (vital energy) from the land is burying ancestral bones in an auspicious place. Because living descendants on earth and a deceased ancestor who is buried in an auspicious site share the same qi (energy), the bones that absorbed vital energy can deliver it to the living descendants without any loss. This was considered more effective than living descendants extracting the vital energy by building a house on it. This is why Koreans who believe in geomancy had such an intense interest in obtaining and defending an auspicious grave site. This aspect is observed by Catholic missionaries in Korea during the later parts of the Chosŏn dynasty. Father Claude-Charles Dallet’s recorded the following instance: The common people use all possible means to protect their graves. One day, some local county councilors wanted to bury one of their relatives in a place which was owned by a poor family. The head of the poor family, seeing that all his claims were useless, quietly attended the councilor’s burial ceremony and even offered wine to the grave diggers who accepted it. Then, with great composure he cut flesh from his own thighs and offered bloody vessels [flesh] to finish up the meal. Upon learning about these facts and hearing the complaints of the poor families of the area against these county councilors, the local magistrate severely punished these councilors and made them dig up the body and return the grave area to the first owners.3 As Dallet recorded, Koreans attempted to occupy and defend their auspicious grave sites at all costs. This demonstrates the importance of grave geomancy in Korea, and this obsession with grave sites produced uncountable court litigations, ranging from police station appeals to suits in a high court. Traditionally, Koreans’ interest in grave geomancy was far greater than in house geomancy. 3. Strong Belief in the Idea of Reinforcing Geomantic Conditions through Artificial Means or Sanch’ŏn Piboron This idea contends that a principal method of ameliorating minor shortcomings of local geomantic conditions is to artificially modify landscapes, often symbolically through human effort, although the main geomantic framework is naturally endowed and imposed on human beings. This idea does not appear in ancient geomantic literature such as the Zangshu or the Qingwujing, so it must be a later addition to geomantic ideas. It should be noted, however, that it has been an important part of geomantic ideas in Korea for more than 1,000 years, since the beginning of the Koryŏ dynasty, and was widely practiced by both Chinese and Koreans. A number of landscape features and written historical records provide clear evidence of this practice. For example, the Chinese constructed and expanded artificial hills



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such as Jingshan 景山 during the Ming dynasty at the back of the Forbidden City to create a protective hill for the Chinese palace. Many so-called fengshui pagodas have also been built as a means of reinforcing local geomantic conditions in many different parts of China. Koreans considered this idea so seriously that they even created a government bureau called the Sanch’ŏn Pibo Togam 山川裨補都監, or Agency for Reinforcing Mountains and Rivers, to carry out landscaping works to ameliorate the geomantic conditions of the national landscape. When the first king of Koryŏ, T’aejo, issued the Ten Injunctions for the future kings of his dynasty, its second article was about conserving geomantic landscape features by not building Buddhist temples anywhere other than where the famous geomancer-Buddhist monk, Master Tosŏn, assessed to be suitable. Sanch’ŏn piboron, or the idea of reinforcing the geomantic conditions of an auspicious site through artificial means (abridged as pibo), were seriously considered by a wide range of social strata as shown in a case study of Kyŏngsang Province in Korea.4 By building small earth mounds and stone pagodas, planting trees, or constructing temples, the locals modified the landscape slightly to make up for their geomantic shortcomings and to remove excessive aspects of a geomantic landscape. A distinct characteristic of Korean pibo is its association with the Korean traditional folk belief system. For instance, from ancient times Koreans had sottae 솟대 in rural settlements, slim wooden poles symbolizing the guardian deities of settlements. A sottae is normally a bird or several birds made of wood that are placed on top of a long pole or sometimes a number of long poles. These long wooden poles were often erected at the entrance of a village and functioned as sacred objects. In the geomantic landscape of a sailing boat, villagers often adopted this sottae as an object that symbolized the sail of a boat. They did this when a geomantic landscape of a sailing boat did not have a natural landform or naturally established object that could symbolize the sail for the village, which was compared with and treated like a sailing boat. As in this case of pibo, work done to improve the geomantic conditions of a landscape was often amalgamated with traditional Korean folk customs and belief systems. Pibo has been practiced from kings and royal families down to commoners. The evidence of such popular practices is plainly visible in written records, as well as still surviving folk customs. Pibo work of creating artificial hills with substantial earth mounds was carried out by the central or local governments as well as smaller village settlements. An example from a royal palace is Kyŏngbok Palace, which has a terraced garden hill called Amisan 峨眉山 (Mt. Ami in Korean; Mt. Emei in Chinese), which was artificially created for geomantic purposes. It was built behind the bedroom chamber of the queen and the king. The Chosŏn dynasty government also carried out projects of constructing earth mounds known as kasan 假山, or artificial hills, in Seoul for geomantic purposes.5 Many examples of rural village level pibo activities such as modifying landforms, establishing artificial groves, or actions such as erecting tall sottae poles at village entrances are well documented.6 Pibo activities in Korea as an aid to enhance local geomantic conditions were carried

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out widely in cities and rural areas as well as from top government organizations down to small village-level communities since the middle of the Chosŏn dynasty. These geomantic reinforcement works, consumed much effort and resources from government and private sources alike. Pibo activities are a significant feature of geomancy in Korea. 4. Close Association with Geomantic Prophecies or Chiri Toch’am 地理圖讖 The practice of geomancy in Korea was often accompanied by geomantic prophecies. During the Koryŏ and Chosŏn dynasties, the ruling class was very sensitive to any geomantic prophecies and attempted to respond seriously to any rumored prophecies implying social unrest or an armed uprising, because circulation of such prophecies among the citizens could cause instability of the ruling government and discontent among the masses. The Korean term for these geomantic prophecies is chiri toch’am, or p’ungsu toch’am. They sometimes implied the end of the then-current ruler and suggested that a person with a certain family name might become the next king, who would establish a new dynasty at such-and-such a geomantically auspicious place. This type of geomantic prophecy was common when a new dynasty was about to succeed the old in China.7 In Korea, similar geomantic prophecies were spread when Wang Kŏn established the Koryŏ dynasty through a coup d’état by removing Kung’ye of the T’aebong 泰封 kingdom.8 Another well-known geomantic prophecy was that a person with the surname Yi 李 would become the new king in Seoul. It was spread widely toward the end of the Koryŏ dynasty as Yi Sŏnggye was in the process of becoming the new king and establishing the new Chosŏn dynasty. When this type of geomantic prophecy spread during the Koryŏ dynasty, the central government attempted to counter it by building detached and secondary palaces in the places known to be auspicious or even shifting the capital to such a place as proof that such prophecies were already realized and were thus invalid. These cases are well documented in Yi Pyŏngdo’s landmark research, Koryŏ Sidae-ŭi Yŏn’gu (A Study of the Koryŏ Period). Geomantic prophecies often seized the attention of the ruling class, who took them seriously. Naturally, various geomantic prophecies relating to auspicious sites exercised sometimes important roles in Korean politics. Kings and royal families in Korean history were very sensitive to the geomantic prophecies and attempted to manipulate them to enhance their political authority and promote the stability of their regimes. During the Koryŏ and Chosŏn dynasties, building new palaces, temples, and the capital itself were closely associated with geomantic ideas, especially geomantic prophecies. Geomantic prophecies are an important part of the Korean geomantic tradition. Even today, during national elections for the presidency or other key elections of political leaders such as members of the parliament, candidates are rumored to



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have hired leading geomancers and moved their ancestors’ graves to auspicious sites. Sometimes such rumors or stories are based on real events, and sometimes they are promoted, apparently by the candidates, as a sign that the candidate in question is bound to be elected. A well-known example of this that was very widely circulated is that of former president of Korea, Kim Dae-jung before his final and successful candidacy for the presidency. Among the common people, geomantic prophecies were also very influential and various books containing different geomantic prophecies concerning various auspicious sites were circulated widely. Among them, a book called Chŏnggamnok is most well-known and influential. There are numerous different versions of this book of geomantic prophecies, probably numbering in hundreds, and various handwritten copies of the book presenting somewhat differing versions of the geomantic prophecies. However, these geomantic prophecies often captured people’s minds, especially the information relating to the most auspicious sites where people could take refuge (safe haven) during wars (foreign invasions or internal turmoil). These prophecies were of special interest to the people when the government was unstable or the socioeconomic conditions of the nation were insecure. Of course, the geomantic prophecies were manipulated by insurgents and contributed significantly to their rebellious movements, including armed uprisings. Korean geomancy is deeply intertwined with various geomantic prophecies. 5. A Close Association with Social Upheaval (Armed Uprisings) Geomancy and geomantic prophecies were involved with all three major armed upheavals during the Koryŏ and Chosŏn dynasties, as discussed earlier. The three largest popular armed uprisings—the Myoch’ŏng Rebellion in present-day P’yŏng’yang, the Hong Kyŏngnae Rebellion in the northwestern region (Py’ŏng’an Province) of the Korean peninsula and Chŏn Pongjun, and the Tonghak Peasants’ War—were closely associated with Koreans’ belief in geomancy. The leaders of those rebellions were practicing geomancers in one way or another. The ringleaders of the rebellious movements carefully employed geomantic ideas and acted as traveling geomancers to avoid suspicion from locals or government informants, because people accepted the fact that geomancers had to travel different parts of Korea in search of auspicious sites. Of course, the ringleaders also manipulated geomantic prophecies to instigate public discontent with the ruling powers and encourage people to follow the ringleaders with geomantic prophecies that promised good fortunes. Geomantic prophecies that were associated with social upheavals (armed uprisings) normally suggested that new fortune would be available to active participants of the insurgency and eager followers of the insurgent forces. Numerous minor figures of social discontent also manipulated geomantic ideas and prophecies for their benefit.

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6. Chigi Soewangnon—the Idea that the Vital Energy of an Auspicious Site Can Wane or Wax through Time According to this geomantic theory of chigi soewangnon, the quality and quantity of vital energy at an auspicious site are not stable and constant over time; the availability changes from time to time, depending on changes in local environmental conditions or the site’s cosmological fate. This means that the fortune of a city or a temple that is located on a geomantically auspicious site will fluctuate, and a city site that is auspicious at one time may not be so auspicious at a later time. This geomantic theory promoted the idea that an auspicious site could experience ascending as well as descending phases of vital energy. The fortunes of a dynasty that has its capital in a geomantically auspicious site could dwindle or improve, depending on the phase of vital energy in the capital city. The length of the waning and waxing phases could be as long as some centuries or as short as less than a decade, depending on the geomantic characteristics. The fluctuations of vital energy could happen within a year, depending on the seasons. Geomancers claimed that they could tell which phase of waning or waxing of vital energy a place was positioned in at a given time. Therefore this idea of determining whether a place is in its waxing or waning phase came to be associated with various geomantic prophecies, fortune-telling, and divination. This idea was especially influential during the Koryŏ dynasty: during the reign of King Injong, there was a geomantic view that the auspicious energy in the capital, Kaegyŏng, was dwindling, while that in Sŏgyŏng was increasing. This view was the background ideology for the armed uprising of Myoch’ŏng, who wanted to see the relocation of capital to Sŏgyŏng. This geomantic idea of waning and waxing vital energy became the ideological background for building a number of detached and secondary palaces by different kings during the Koryŏ dynasty in places that were supposedly auspicious. The geomantic idea of waning and waxing vital energy in a place is not seen in classical geomantic textbooks, but it was of great consequence to the Koryŏ dynasty ruling class in selecting palace sites or capital city sites. However, this idea was not important to commoners in the selection of private homes or ancestral grave sites. Most contemporary Korean professional geomancers may not talk about this geomantic idea, and many Koreans may not take it seriously because the practice of geomancy itself is not seriously considered or accepted by most Koreans today. When geomancy was popular and taken seriously, however, this idea also gained popularity and accompanied geomantic prophecies that were often politically motivated. I have seen no geomancers discussing its importance or suggesting its validity in recent times. 7. Significant Impact of Geomancy on Korean Cartography As I discussed in my previous book, the impact of geomancy on Korean traditional maps and cartography is profound.9 Practicing geomancers often drew maps of aus-



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picious places and their surrounding environments, especially the shapes of hills or mountains. These maps are called geomancy maps or sando (山圖), which literally means the map of mountains. An inherent characteristic of a geomancy map is that normally the auspicious site (either a grave site, a house site, or a settlement location) is marked with a small circle in the center of the map with water features (stream or river) and mountain shapes around the circle. As the authors of geomancy maps drew, they gave special attention to the connectivity of mountains or the flow of mountain ranges for the geomantically most important “vital energy” flow a meter or two below the surface of the mountains to the auspicious grave or house site. In addition to geomancy maps, other

Figure 6.6. Mountains and watercourses around an auspicious site (geomancy cave) in an idealized geomantic landscape. The mountain on the left of the auspicious site is called “azure dragon”; on the right, “white tiger”; behind is “main mountain” or “black warrior.” This map, based on a traditional geomancy map, is from H. Yoon, “Human Modification of Korean Landforms for Geomantic Purposes,” Geographical Review 101, no. 2: 247.

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premodern Korean maps often emphasize mountain ranges as the main features. Traditional maps, such as government maps of administrative regions or those of cities, attempted to describe the connectivity of mountain ranges and sometimes exaggerated the connections of important mountains. This emphasis on mountains (hilly landscapes) seemed to result from the influence of geomantic ideas. The above geomancy map’s topographic expressions reflect geomantic views of the landforms, for the geomantic belief was that vital energy flowed through mountain ranges, and disjointed or terminated mountains are considered inauspicious. The Taedong Yŏjido 大東輿地圖 (Map of Korea, literally the “Map of the Great Eastern Nation”) by the best-known cartographer of Korea, Kim Chŏngho, is probably the most detailed, accurate, and advanced example of a traditional map of Korea. However, even this map represents a geomantic worldview and faithfully describes and sometimes exaggerates the connectivity of Korean mountain ranges to Mt. Paektu, which is the source of geomantic vital energy in Korea.

Figure 6.7A. A geomantic map illustrating an auspicious site. Mountain shapes in black indicate mountain ranges surrounding an auspicious site (indicated by a small circle in the middle of the map); serrated lines represent foothills while single broken lines indicate water flow (stream or river). This map is from a traditional Korean hand-written manuscript of geomancy by an unknown author, Sanpŏp Chŏnsŏ (Collection of Mountain-Geomancy Principles). Photograph by Hong-key Yoon, 2007. Figure 6.7B. A geomantic map showing simplistic sketch of mountain ranges (shaded parts) and watercourses (dotted lines) around auspicious places. Photograph by Annabelle Yoon, November 2016.

Figure 6.8. Taedong Yŏjido or the Map of the Great Eastern Nation (1861) consists of twenty-two separate folded pages. The above map represents the joining of all pages together showing the entire Korean peninsula. Photograph courtesy of ScienceBooks, Korea.

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The Taejon Yeouido is at the apex of traditional maps in the Korean cartography. It developed a unique method for expressing mountain ranges “with a continuous black line of varying thicknesses to express different mountain heights and sizes.” On the map the thicker black lines represent higher mountains. This method might represent one of the most developed East Asian cartographic techniques used before the Western method of expressing topographic characteristics with contour lines was introduced. This advanced form of Korean cartographic skill obviously originated from geomantic maps of auspicious sites. Traditional Korean maps also emphasized or sometimes exaggerated the crescent shapes of surrounding hill ranges around settlements, especially key townships. This tradition also reflects the influence of geomancy on Korean maps, for a crescent-shaped hill range surrounding a settlement was a required condition for an auspicious town site. These seven points are some of more prominent features of geomancy as practiced in Korea. As I declared at the beginning of this section, some of these key characteristics of Korean geomancy may also be important features of geomancy in China, and it is acknowledged that the current level of research into the history and practice of geomancy in both countries is insufficient to argue that they are unique to geomancy in Korea. Even if some or all of the seven points presented here are shared by geomancy in both China and Korea, I would like to suggest that these seven are some of the most prominent characteristics of Korean geomancy. These suggestions are based on my own research of several decades into Korean geomancy, Concluding Part I and Introducing Part II: Selected Topics in Korean Geomancy: Historical and Cultural Studies In the chapters of Part I we have reviewed the development of Korean geomancy in a mainly chronological order. The discussion of geomancy in chapter 2 did not adopt dynastic cycles as the basic historical unit, because similar characteristics of geomancy as practiced in Korea sometimes appear over two different dynasties, while within a dynasty sometimes several periods with distinct trends of geomantic discourse can be identified. Thus I divided the Korean history of geomancy into eight periods to reflect the historical characteristics of the time: (1) from the time of its introduction to the time before Tosŏn, the geomancer-monk (from the ancient period to ninth century); (2) from the time of Tosŏn to the years before the Mongol occupation of Korea; (3) the paucity of practicing geomancy during the Mongol occupation period; (4) after the Mongol occupation from King Kongmin of the Koryŏ dynasty to the fourth king of the Chosŏn dynasty, King Sejong; (5) from King Sejo’s reign to the predevelopment of Sirhak thought (1392–1670); (6) from Sirhak to the end of the Chosŏn dynasty (1670–1910), (7) during the Japanese colonial occupation (1910–1945); and (8) from the time of the liberation (1945) to the present.



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After exploring the periodization of the historical development of Korean geomancy in chapter 2, chapter 3 covers the relationships between geomancy and major social upheavals in Korean history, which is succeeded by chapter 4 on government affairs relating to geomancy in traditional Korea. Chapter 5 looks at some observations on the relationships of environmental management in Korean history. Chapter 6 summarizes my discussions on some principal characteristics of Korean geomancy before concluding the chapter. The next chapters in part II examine various significant topics in Korean geomancy during the premodern period. The first chapter of part II, chapter 7, is by an environmental scientist: “Geomantic Practices of Water Acquisition and Management in Traditional Cultural Landscapes during the Chosŏn Dynasty.” Water management is closely associated with the forest that was established during the Chosŏn dynasty. Because water is a critical resource for human survival, the topic of what role geomancy has played in water acquisition and management in Korea should be given special attention. Notes   1. For a substantial discussion on these two compass school methods, see Mak and So, Scientific Fengshui for the Built Environment, 231–54.   2. Chŏng Yagyong, Kugyŏk Mongmin Simsŏ, fasc. 2, 628; and Yoon, Culture of Fengshui in Korea, 4–5.   3. Claude-Charles Dallet, introduction to L’histoire de l’église de Corée, précédée d’une introduction sur l’histoire, les institutions, la langue, les moeurs et coutumes coréennes (A History of the Church in Korea) (Paris: Librairie Victor Palmé, 1874), 142.   4. Choi, Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu-wa Pibo.   5. Yoon Hong-key, “Human Modification of Korean Landforms for Geomantic Purposes,” Geographical Review 101, no. 2 (2011): 249.   6. For example, see Choi, Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu-wa Pibo.   7. Yi, Koryŏ Sidae-ŭi Yŏn’gu (1980), 39.   8. Yi, Koryŏ Sidae-ŭi Yŏn’gu (1980), 36–39.   9. Hong-key Yoon,. The Culture of Fengshui in Korea (2006), 163–75.

PART II Selected Topics in Korean Geomancy Historical-Cultural Studies

7 Geomantic Practices of Water Acquisition and Management during the Chosŏn Dynasty Dowon Lee

1. Background1 Geomantic principles are an accumulated body of knowledge that traditional Korean society developed to adapt to their natural environment and to sustainably manage their resources. Like general traditional knowledge, most geomantic principles are intuitive, qualitative, and holistic.2 As some of the ideas related to geomancy in Korea have been transmitted inter-generationally as stories and legends, the collection of geomantic practices intermingles reasonable facts and moral, spiritual, and religious aspects. Therefore, the principles, practices, and stories of geomancy deal with subjects that cannot be evaluated by modern scientific tools. The objective of this study is to interpret some significant Korean geomantic practices by means of modern ecological understanding. In particular, the focus will be on practices concerning the acquisition and management of water resources, which were critically important in traditional Korean society. Although some geomantic practices will be identified and examined based on a mixture of traditional Korean religious beliefs and stories, they will not be analyzed scientifically, other than through their ecological significance. The outcomes of this study are expected to contribute to scientific knowledge through producing hypotheses that can be tested by the research methods of the natural sciences.3 Geomancy is underpinned by the basic premise of shengqi that flows about 1 meter below the surface of the earth through soil. To comprehend the significance of shengqi, therefore, we must question: What is the identity of shengqi as defined by vivid anima? Shengqi (生氣) is a term coined in Zangshu (葬書), written by Guo Pu (郭璞: 276–324) of Jin (晉, AD 265–420). The author says that the origin of shengqi is the anima of yin and yang. The anima becomes wind when it belches, and wind becomes cloud when it soars into the air. Cloud becomes thunder when

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it combats other winds, cloud (thunder) becomes rain when it drops down, and rain becomes shengqi when it is soaked into the earth.4 Shengqi can be understood as the elementary energy or substance that vitalizes life. It may be assumed that when indigenous people observed plants or animals as being activated or enlivened under certain circumstances, they associated the enlivening energy or matter with shengqi. If so, shengqi may be intimately related to an essential element, matter, or energy that activates or enlivens plants and animals. Plants appear enlivened when they photosynthesize actively. Hence, the vitality of plants is expressed by a degree of photosynthesis. The degree of photosynthesis, which is called the plant’s “primary productivity,” depends on the availability of essential elements. Solar energy, carbon dioxide, water, and nutrients are among the essential elements of plant photosynthesis. However, primary productivity is especially determined by a limiting factor, the least available of the essential elements. In spring when everything is enlivened, it was water availability that was most likely to limit plant productivity in traditional Korean landscapes.5 Spring is also usually the driest of the four Korean seasons. Water is essential for living everywhere. In traditional Korean societies, water was regarded as a precious resource essential for sustaining the primary food resource—rice. Approximately two-thirds of Korea’s annual precipitation occurs in summer, and mountainous area covers approximately two-thirds of the total area of Korea. Under these conditions, it is difficult to retain sufficient water for agriculture. Human lives in traditional Korean societies were intrinsically dependent on the availability of water in the spring season, as the soil was so dry that it could severely limit plant productivity. Droughts were concentrated in Korea in the winter, and in the spring when the plants started sprouting. Even at present, forest fires are concentrated in spring, when the soil moisture and relative humidity of the air are very low. It can be assumed with good reason that traditional Korean societies frequently suffered from extremely low availability of water. Understandably, these societies noted that their lives depended significantly on the amount of spring precipitation, the water-holding capacity of the soil, and the amount of water in reservoirs. In the late fourteenth and the early fifteenth centuries when Seoul became a candidate for the new national capital of the Chosŏn (朝鮮) dynasty, for instance, the fact that water was less available was a major issue for its rejection, as elucidated in excerpts from Korean historical records given below. Before King T’aejo (太祖) moved the capital from Kaesŏng (開城), he had visited the old Seoul area along with his subordinates. After the excursion, he asked his associates for their comments. One of land interpreters, Yun Sindal (尹莘達), advised as follows: “Songgyŏng (松京, old Kaesŏng) is the best possible site for the capital of Chosŏn. This land (present-day Seoul) is only the second priority. More regrettably, the northwestern area (乾方: 西北) of this land is low and the streams and springs (水泉: 明堂水) are dry.”6 After King Chŏngjong (定宗) returned to Songgyŏng, King T’aejong (太宗) planned to move to Hanyang (漢陽, old Seoul area) again and asked his subor-



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dinates. Again, a lack of water in the Seoul area was mentioned as a key reason for disapproval. Yu Han’u (劉旱雨) said: “In Hanyang, not only are back and front mountains predominantly rocky, but water is lacking in the myŏngdang 明堂; therefore, it cannot be the capital of the nation. Chirisŏ (地理書, the Book of Geography) describes, ‘Where the water flow is not long enough, dwellers would not bear long.’ It advises not to locate the capital in Hanyang.”7 The shortage in water supply during the Chosŏn dynasty era is also evident through the frequency of the words “drought” and “ritual for rain” in Chosŏn Wangjo Sillok (朝鮮王朝實錄, Annals of the Chosŏn Dynasty). Although it is difficult to accurately extrapolate from limited qualitative data (see figure 7.1), the words “drought” and “ritual for rain” are mentioned 2,471 and 1,661 times, respectively, in the Korean version of Chosŏn Wangjo Sillok, the majority of which was written in Chinese for a period of 518 years (1392–1910). These records regarding of the natural disaster of drought and people’s performance of rituals for rainfall demonstrate that the lack of water (rain) significantly restricted the living conditions of the common people during the Chosŏn dynasty. A lack of water is also indicated in a poem composed by Yu Kŭm 柳琴 (1741– ~1788) in the late eighteenth century.

Figure 7.1. Annual average frequency of the words of “drought” and “ritual for rain” recorded for the period of each king in the Korean version of Chosŏn Wangjo Sillok. The x axis indicates the chronological order of the Chosŏn dynasty kings. Drawn by Wanmo Kang.

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As rain water drips from the eaves, The kitchen maid is pleased With the full jar of water.8 The female servant was glad to look at water falling from the roof because it meant she did not have to carry water from a distant well or stream to her home. The poet was a nobleman who lived within walking distance of the palace of the king. In fact, even rich upper-class households had to use water collected from their house roofs for cooking in the national capital during the Chosŏn dynasty.9 Ordinary people, such as farmers, required a lot of water for growing rice. Lack of rainfall meant poor harvests, and people went hungry from insufficient food. At a time when food was not imported from far-away regions or from foreign countries, people could be easily panic-stricken by food shortages due to annul fluctuations. Hence, an enlightened king and his government officers had to give special attention to the vagaries of the climate, because much of people’s lives depended on precipitation. Presumably, the natural and cultural conditions might be determining factors that inspired King Sejong (fourth monarch) to invent the rain gauge for the first time in the world in 1441.10 It was said that the farmer functioned as the foundation of the world, and Koreans, like most traditional societies, were largely dependent on agricultural productivity. Thus, they were always concerned with climate and rain. With frequent droughts, they would have eagerly observed natural environments and accumulated relevant knowledge. Proverbs were a means by which such knowledge was handed down from generation to generation. In general, people talk about rain-related stories often in the environments where they are largely influenced by rain. A lot of old Korean proverbs concerning rain and drought may have resulted from the fact that the weather conditions severely regulated commoners’ lives. Some relevant proverbs are illustrated below.11 It will rain if ants move in a line. It will rain if ants pass across a road. It will rain if green frogs sing. It will rain if swallows fly near the ground. It will rain if fishes poke out of the water surface. It will rain if seagulls fly low. It will rain if a group of spiders pass by during a drought. When spiders start spinning their webs, it will stop raining. It will rain if cats are uproarious. There will be a lot of snow if winter-migrating birds come early. It will rain if bells sound clear. It will rain if there are bubbles in ponds, lakes, and streams. It will rain if there is a ring around the sun and the moon. It will rain if smoke does not go out [of the chimney].



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It will rain heavily if thunder crashes in the morning. Spring rain is the rice rain. The hands of housewives become bigger (they become generous) when it rains in spring. In addition, Korean people possibly noticed that some principles of fengshui, developed in the extremely dry region of the Chinese Loess Plateau, were instrumental in learning how to cope with their own (Korean) environment where droughts were frequent. In short, Korea’s history of frequent droughts may have contributed to the retention of Chinese fengshui principles by Korean people during the Chosŏn dynasty, and to their accumulating their own native knowledge to enhance water use efficiency in Korea. 2. Acquisition and Management of Water Resources Preference for Curvilinear Water Flows In a classical Chinese geomantic book, Qingwujing 靑烏經 (Book of the Azure Crow), which was written in the Qin or Han dynasty era, it is stated: “People will be lucky where water flows slowly like a man looking back, whereas we will be unlucky where it flows straight.” Guo Pu (276–324) declared in his Zangjing (Book of Burial), “The principle of fengshui is first of all to acquire water and then to have a calm wind.”12 The water-related principles (水法) of Dili Renzi Xuezhi 地理人子須 知 (Geomantic Facts that All Humanity Must Know), a voluminous book of fengshui principles compiled by Chinese male twins in the early Ming dynasty era (in the late sixteenth century), stated, “[An] Outlet of a waterway should be curved, bent, encircled, and pooled deeply 彎環屈曲 迂廻深聚” and “People become rich where water is deep, and poor where water is shallow.” These expressions are obviously to avoid or to overcome a natural lack of water.13 Fengshui, learned from China, may have been maintained in Korean society because it was useful in resolving limited water availability. Meandering and slowly flowing waters stay near people longer, while straight-flowing waters are directly associated with rapid water loss and soil erosion. An active approach of p’ungsu practices to retain water within and near residential and agricultural zones is tŭksu pibo (得水裨補), which means practices to compensate for weakness in the acquisition of water.14 Yi Chung-hwan (李重煥, 1751) explicitly described in his classical book of geography that meandering and long waterways were auspicious, and straight flowing water, like a flying arrow, was to be avoided. When natural conditions did not fit in with p’ungsu principles, Koreans managed the landscapes to influence water to flow through a curvaceous path, such as by making ditches, digging ponds, or nurturing forests or groves.15 These practices helped to retain water, thereby conserving soil moisture, recharging groundwater, and mitigating the dryness of air with increased evapotranspiration.

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These management practices were often coupled with the construction of central village ponds and the covering of the watershed mouth with trees, which will be discussed below in detail.16 In the following sections, I illustrate some of the p’ungsu practices applied to create Korea’s cultural-ecological landscapes and I will explore how these practices contributed to enhancing water use efficiency. Watershed-Based Land Use The Han (漢) River basin and the Naktong (洛東) River basin are divided into many smaller subbasins in the famous Taedong Yŏjido (大東輿地圖, the Grand Map of Korea) of 1861. In reality, the subbasins are composed of many smaller watersheds, which are called kol or kolchagi. A traditional village was usually located inside of a few kols, that is, inside small watersheds. A government office of the county was centered in a relatively spacious flat area, with many villages nested within a small watershed. This configuration is exemplified in an old map of Nagan County, Chŏlla Province, drawn in 1872 (figure 7.2). Currently in Korea, a small administrative land unit is called a tong (洞), which means “sharing the same water.” This indicates that people share the same water when they live in a kol or a small watershed together.17 We are aware that rainwater that falls in a watershed must flow through the mouth of the watershed unless the water is lost by evapotranspiration and stored below ground. Hence, the villagers who reside in a watershed or tong together share the same water and they are called tongmin (洞民), meaning the people of a tong. A traditional Korean village used to be preferentially situated on a south-facing gently sloped area so that the village could be an integral part of the back-mountain, front-water (背山臨水) landscape (figure 7.3). The mountain slope was spatially differentiated into a steep upland and a mild slope by the effect of long-term geological actions and by soil erosion. While the upland was assigned to be a forested zone, the upper part of the mild slope zone was assigned to be intensively managed forests for orchards, mulberry trees, and sometimes dry fields.18 The village was located at the lower part of the mild slope zone, adjacent to the flat area of rice paddies.19 The arrangement of land use types was necessarily based on the observations of the land morphology, topography, and climate, and on the soil remaining unchanged over a relatively long period of time.20 P’ungsu practices helped shape the specific spatial configuration by incorporating forests, watercourses, residential areas, roads, croplands, and other land uses into the landscape.21 In Korea, for example, p’ungsu emphasizes the village facing the south or the southeast, with the back of the village extending over the back mountain, and streams flowing though the rice paddies in front of the village. The villagers could obtain many benefits in a village within a back-mountain, front-water landscape. The back mountain was a major source of firewood and was used as a refuge to hide and defend the village from invaders during a war. When a village was south-facing, the back mountain also protects the village from

Figure 7.2. An old map of Nagan County, Chŏlla Province, drawn in 1872. Photo courtesy of the Kyujanggak Institute for Korean Studies, http://e-kyujanggak.snu.ac.kr.

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Figure 7.3. Cross-section diagram of a typical traditional Korean village as related to topography. Drawn by Dowon Lee and Jieun Lee.

the strong Siberian winter winds, and the mountain face and the village receive optimum sunshine in the winter. In such a case, the land is properly dry and the village residents can use less firewood to heat rooms.22 The forests encircling the village ensured a dependable supply of clean water that was needed for domestic and agricultural uses. Moreover, the people could rely on spring water within the village area, which was plentiful due to the relatively high level of annually recharged groundwater. Within geomancy, the important concept of “storing wind (藏風)” signifies the need and actions for mitigating or avoiding cold winds and maintaining a desirable exchange of air. To regulate this continuous flow of air conducive to human living, rural people eagerly sought a well-protected place surrounded by mountain ridges, which was also not directly exposed to the colder northern winds. This place was termed myŏngdang. In the myŏngdang, the moist southern and southeastern winds become milder as these flowed into the village and upward into the back-mountain areas. The back-slope area and the dense forests acted as complementary natural and man-made barriers that served well to attenuate the winds but not completely block them. In traditional Korean societies, people believed that as the winds were weakened, the warmth of the winds was conserved, but their malicious anima was removed. As a matter of fact, when winds become slow, the loss of water in the air through evaporation decreases and humidity may increase due to dew condensation during cold nights.23



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As per the scientifically understood Korean climatic conditions, southern moist winds blowing from the Pacific Ocean are dominant in spring and summer. A significant amount of water vapor may condense in the forested back mountain of traditional villages from these prevailing moist winds during spring nights. Potentially, a lot of moist air is stored within the forested areas on the back mountain, and this manifests as dew on the extended surface area of the forest foliage (figure 7.3) when temperatures are low enough for condensation. That is, in Korea, the landscape can acquire water (得水) by storing moisture from south and southeastern winds. Although the amount of dew derived from moist southerly winds is not much, it may contribute significantly to primary plant productivity when the forest is short of water in spring. For this important reason, perhaps, Koreans say that “the mountain hugs winds.”24 This hypothetical reasoning may be tested by field observations and computer simulation.25 The above hypothetical reasoning is in part supported by practices in which people collect water from fog in Chilean dry lands.26 The Chilean rural residents use textiles to harvest water from moist air on mountain fences. The textiles are used to extend the surface area with which the moisture in the air can interact and thereby cool to manifest as coagulating water droplets that can be collected along slanted pipes. Likewise, in the back mountain areas of traditional Korean landscapes, the extended contact surface area presented by dense plant foliage serves to naturally condense the moisture in the humid southerly winds. Recently, scientists have started to pay attention to how much the foliar water absorption of intercepted rainfall contributes to alleviating the water stress of plants. Water absorbed by plant foliage plays an important role in the survival of plants in dry lands. Tree species of Juniper and Sequoia, for example, are significantly dependent on foliar absorption of intercepted rainfall, especially at times when the water stress level is high.27 How vigorously the dew of spring contributes to the health of the upland forest ecosystem in traditional Korean villages is an interesting question. Many sophisticated techniques have been developed to study hydrological processes in forested ecosystems over the past decades. A new technique based on the fact that stable isotopes of hydrogen and oxygen are found more in dew water than in rainwater,28 for example, may be a promising research approach. In addition, the analyses of hydrological models developed by incorporating physiological and ecological processes of plants and ecosystems can be useful in unraveling relevant answers.29 Such research tools can also help compare ecohydrological processes, such as the addition of dew, soil moisture, surface runoff, evapotranspiration, and plant responses in unforested and forested uplands of south-facing and north-facing slopes of watersheds. Mountains of Fire Anima In front of Kwanghwa Gate (光化門), the main gate of Kyŏngbok Palace (景福 宮) in Seoul, there still remains a pair of the original stone statues of an imagi-

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nary animal called Haech’i (獬豸, figure 7.4). People used to believe that Haech’i lived in the sea and could suppress fire hazards. As a matter of fact, the statues were placed so that they could suppress the fire anima of Mt. Kwanak (冠岳山), which was seen in the area of old Seoul to look like flames.30 The legend sounds irrational, but may be related to people’s interpretation of old Seoul’s natural characteristics. Old Seoul was a city founded on a land in which granite bedrock and weathered soil predominated. Rocky mountains are usually shaped from the parent material of granite, as we see in Sŏnin Peak (仙人峰), Insu Peak (仁壽峰), and Mt. Kwanak (冠岳山) in Seoul. The soil particles of weathered granite rock were relatively coarse and eroded.31 The water retention capacity of this coarse soil is very low. Hence, very little water was retained in soil from the old Seoul area, as the water rapidly drained during the rainy season. It is worth mentioning that Yun Sindal said in 1394, before the capital of Chosŏn dynasty was moved, “Streams and springs are dry in old Seoul area.” Seoul city would quickly become dry when the rains cleared and sunny days followed. For these reasons, perhaps, people in olden times stated that Seoul contained strong fire anima. The statues of Haech’i seem to be symbolic and perhaps inspired people to be mindful or take precautions about accidental fires when they passed by or thought about the statues. However, people needed practical approaches to coping with fire accidents, so water jars with relatively wide mouths were placed in palaces to suppress the fire anima of Mt. Kwanak. The water jars were located near two stairways of Kŭnjŏngjŏn (勤政殿) in Kyŏngbok Palace and at four corners of Chunghwa

Figure 7.4. A pair of stone statues of an imaginary animal called Haech’i placed in front of Kwanghwa Gate, Seoul. Photograph by Maung T. Myat, January 2017.



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Hall (中和殿) in Kyŏng’un Palace (慶運宮). It was said that when the fire anima approached the building, its face was mirrored in the water within the jars. Once the fire anima looked at its own ugly face, it ran away because it was either flabbergasted or it supposed that another fire anima had already entered the building. Although the story includes superstitious content, the water in the jars was used to suffocate small fires and might have contributed to increasing the air moisture. As a matter of fact, such jars were used as effective containers to store firefighting water in some Buddhist temples, as is currently the case in the Chŏndŭng Temple (傳燈寺) of Kanghwa Island (江華島). Seoul during the Chosŏn dynasty also enlarged a pond in the northwest of Kŭnjŏngjŏn of Kyŏngbok Palace in 1412 (T’aejong Sillok, 太宗實錄). The stories of Haech’i, water jars, and the enlarged pond represent certain types of pibo p’ungsu practices in Korea. A similar story in dealing with the dryness of a landscape is told at Oeam Village, a folk village lying in Asan City, in South Ch’ungch’ŏng Province. Even an ordinary Korean may notice two specific traits of the village. One trait is its unusually wide stone-stacked walls, which are two or three times as wide as those in other traditional homes of Korea. According to villagers, the reason for building such thick walls is to use up excessive stones on the ground. The other trait of the village is the extended artificially constructed waterways that pass through houses (figure 7.6). In some houses, there are ponds in the garden. The stony landscape and water-using measures are related to the strong fire anima of a mountain behind the village. These traits may reflect low water-holding capacity of the soil. Although we have not yet tested this hypothesis in the field,

Figure 7.5. Stone-stacked wall in Oeam Village. Photograph by Dowon Lee, August 2015.

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Figure 7.6. A human-made waterway at Oeam folk village. Photograph by Dowon Lee, August 2015.

the substrate underground may well contain many stones, but not much soil that can retain water. Under such conditions, the soil and air easily become dry and increase the possibility of fires. This is especially dangerous when many houses have thatched roofs. Furthermore, springs and wells are prone to drying unless there is an external source of water in the dry season. When residents effectively managed water flows by leading the water into the village and retarding its flow out of the village through many small ponds, they could keep the ambient air moist. More water could infiltrate into the soil and keep the wells filled with water. Residents said that they made the moat to secure the water supply, in case the thatched roofs caught fire. The ditches enhance the moisture of the soil and contribute to regulating the landscape’s microclimate. As water flows from house to house, residents should care for their adjacent neighbors as they share water. Hence, the ditch system in Oeam village may also have played a role in promoting community cooperation. In addition, the ditches became habitats of aquatic organisms and a corridor for some terrestrial animals. In this respect, the stories regarding fire anima of mountains serve to gather further attention for the wise use of water resources in Korean landscapes. Village Pond Water has become an important element of landscaping arrangements in western and eastern cultures, owing to its distinctive physical characteristics. For this rea-



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son, water elements of traditional cultural landscapes have been studied by modern architects and introduced into landscape architecture.32 Water is not only intimately associated with human life, but it provides important habitats and essential resources for many organisms. Hence, ecologists have different perspectives on water than architects do. In traditional Korean villages, a pond that was usually located at the entrance of the village, and several ponds that were among rice paddies, functioned as retention basins. Furthermore, along with the village groves, these ponds helped regulate the microclimate caused by the winds. The ponds absorbed the heat of the winds passing through the village in the hot summer. In the dry seasons—from winter to spring—the wind gathered moisture as it passed above a pond, which provided relief to people and animals, helped to keep an ecological and physiological balance, and prevented fires in the village and in the back mountain. Ponds also removed nutrients in the water gathered from residential areas and paddy fields. As organic matter flowed from the village sewer or adjacent forests to the pond, nutrient removal and denitrification took place within it. In these villages, water was classified into either “flowing” or “remaining” (standing). Flowing water delineates line segments in the village landscape and indicates the direction to face.33 In a traditional village with the back-mountain, front-water landscape, waterways flowing through the village from the mountain

Figure 7.7. A pond in front of Wont’ŏ Village of Sang’wolli, Kimch’ŏn City, North Kyŏngsang Province. Photograph by Dowon Lee, March 2003.

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became the source of domestic and agricultural waters and eventually merged with a larger stream, which usually passed outside the village. Simultaneously, flowing waters were a major boundary of the village, and they played a significant role in restricting the life zone of the village residents.34 A traditional village pond is a typical example of standing water. Water from each house comes to the pond after passing through the residential area or rice paddy fields. Some village ponds in South Kyŏngsang Province that were arranged by following the principle of pibo p’ungsu are described in a book,35 but other areas are not yet systematically documented. Similar to the ponds in Wont’ŏ Village (figure 7.7) of Sang’wolli, Kimch’ŏn City, North Kyŏngsang Province, ponds in Changsalli Village and Osŏri Village (figures 7.8a and 7.8b), of Kosŏng County, South Kyŏngsang Province, are additional examples that I have observed. Village ponds invigorated relationships within the community, because making and managing the ponds required the involvement of the whole community.36 The pond in front of Yŏndongni Village, Haenam County, in South Chŏlla Province, has an interesting story that incorporates p’ungsu and Neo-Confucianism. It is said that the house of Yun Sŏndo (尹善道) had frequent accidental fires about 500 years ago. After villagers made a pond and planted lotuses in it, the frequency of fires decreased (as told by the eldest grandson of the head family, Hyŏngsik Yun, in a personal interview). As the story goes, Sŏndo Yun’s (1587–1671) great-great grandfather made mounds in order to enhance the anima of soil at the centre of an area which was surrounded by right, left, front, and back ridges of the village, respectively named as the Green Dragon, the White Tiger, the Red Bird, and the Black Tortoise. The mounds were called mounds of mind as they were arranged in the [shape of the] Chinese character for mind (心). He intended to train his and his neighbors’ minds as he made such a landscape by combining the principles of pibo p’ungsu and NeoConfucianism, respectively, to make up for weak parts and to seek for the nature of benevolence (仁義禮智信) with sincere faith and reverence (愼信恭敬). After a pond was constructed in the area where the soil was removed, white lotuses were planted there. The white lotus symbolises the pureness of mind, that is, the true character of human beings.37 In another interesting example, in a village named Osŏri, a pond was framed by a forest grove together with a stone tower as the residents judged that the area was vacant and needed to be complemented (figure 7.8).38 A recent signpost beside the pond notes that loaches are raised in the pond because an individual fish can feed on more than 1000 mosquito larvae per day. In addition, the pond contributes to the purification of waste water because edible aquatic plants, such as species of water dropwort and lotus, commonly grow in the waterway and the pond. A scientific study substantiated that domestic waste water was purified at the pond of Wont’ŏ Village, where introduced suspended solids and organic matter were

Figure 7.8. Location of the pond in a map of the village and a picture of the village pond and grove in Osŏri Village of Kosŏnggun County, South Kyŏngsang Province. Map drawn by Dowon Lee and Jieun Lee; photograph by Dowon Lee, December 2008.

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removed at a rate of 90 percent and 76 percent, respectively.39 The combination of findings implies that construction of traditional village ponds may be a practice by which waste water could be transformed into useful resources (food materials and clean water) by flowing through a pond ecosystem that incorporated various plants, animals, insects, and microorganisms.40 Thus, by creating an efficient water system composed of connections between flowing and stagnant water, traditional Korean societies used ponds as effective wetlands to purify water by removing nutrients from sewage and rice fields. Further research on the characteristics of fast- and slow-flowing water within the system and its impact on the living creatures and the ecological process influenced by adjacent vegetation distribution would be useful. It will also be interesting to understand how and when Koreans actually recognized mosquito control by loaches and waste water purification by ponds and how they subsequently put p’ungsu into practice. Management of the Village Boundary A traditional village was preferentially located within a watershed where the area was well enclosed by connected mountain ridges.41 From a perspective of p’ungsu, the low part of the ridges that surround the village was mounded or forested (or both) by men.42 People tried to locate their village inside a watershed whose mouth was narrow and especially well covered with an extended mountain ridge; if that weren’t the situation, they complemented the area by planting trees. When we study the old map in figure 7.2, we find that a small grove is placed in front of the main gate of the town wall. That is human created forest cover at the mouth of the watershed. How indigenous villagers tried to manage the main gate area of their village is well documented in entries from Chosŏn Wangjo Sillok, which read as follows: The Silla dynasty lasted for approximately 1,000 years, owing to complementation of vacant places with human-made mounds and forestation. At the time, people made mounds and planted trees to make up for areas which were largely opened in counties and towns. . . . In this country, parts of the national capital wall are weak and the capital’s watershed mouth is too open. Thus, those areas should be complemented. Mounding the areas with soil and stones is difficult. Instead, planting trees will be an effective way to enhance the areas. Where a watershed mouth is wide and not tightly covered, in general, rich families may not be maintained even to the immediate next generation. Therefore, we should certainly seek for a watershed with a well-covered mouth when we build a new village. Such areas are frequently found in mountainous terrains, but not in plains. In the latter case, a place where the entrance is buffered by mountains, hills, or a coming water component is good. Only in such places will several hundred generations last.43



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In Korean traditional villages, open areas at their entrance were covered with an artificially established grove called a sugu (水口) magi, meaning a “cover of the outgoing water junction” (figure 7.9). Indigenous Koreans thought that not only does water flow out through the watershed mouth, but auspicious anima, including fortune, pleasure, prosperity, fecundity, and affluence, also escape through it. Therefore, the sugu magi is a shield at the main gate that is specifically meaningful to the residents in a symbolical and psychological sense (see D. Kim, this volume). Sugu magi appears in two types, piborim (裨補林or pibo (裨補) sup and yŏpsŭngnim (厭勝林).44 The former means a forest or grove to complement weak landscape elements, and the latter is a grove to alleviate too strong or ugly landscape elements. Both of the practices attempted to shape positive landscapes in both physical and psychological perspectives. Likewise, Koreans have believed for a long time that the auspicious anima of a village was stored to achieve wealth and honor only when the widely open part of village area was tightly covered. As a matter of fact, the impacts of external disturbances can be alleviated when the village is encircled by forested ridges. The forested area is also a source of water for the villagers, domestic animals, and crops.45 Plenty of water is available in the village when the forested area is extensive. The waterway becomes long when its

Figure 7.9. Songmal piborim in a traditional Korean landscape. An example of a typical village with sugu magi still remaining at present. Sugu magi is a kind of pibo woodland that is included in Korean village groves. Aerial photography by the Korean Forest Institute.

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flow is curvilinear and meandering along the forested area. The sugu magi plantation holds soil, which in turn may contribute to the retention of water inside the village watershed. The plantation also hides the water flowing out of the village area. In a sense, the complementation of landscape elements was intended to shape their village into a closed system. At a time when water-pumping equipment was not available, an easily accessible and dependable water supply was absolutely significant to the production of rice. In many villages in mountainous area, people needed to conserve water near the village area as much as they could. Such water management perspectives were embedded in many practices to strategically position their villages and to annex features in specific zones. Sugu magi was one such practice. According to a recent study, the sugu magi plantation plays a role in conserving water in nearby agricultural soil by reducing mountain and valley winds, and thus, lessens water loss by evaporation. A grove at Songmalli Village in Ich’ŏn City, Kyŏnggi Province (figure 7.9), includes approximately seventy Zelkova trees along with four castor aralias, four Japanese alders, shrubby Ibodas, Korean rosebays, and royal azaleas. Residents have been conserving the grove for approximately 500 years, and the diameter at breast height (DBH) of the Zelkova trees ranges up to 174 cm, although there are some small ones (5 cm) as well.46 At the village grove, wind direction and speed, and air temperature and humidity, were monitored from November 2004 to July 2005. When computer simulations were performed, wind speed was reduced by 30 percent, and relative humidity in the air was increased by 5 percent. At a location inside the village, at a distance of two times the tree height (h) of the grove (which functions as the boundary of the village), potential evaporation was reduced by 7 percent compared to a location outside the village.47 How much the grove slows the discharge of surface and subsurface water flows has not yet been determined, but the result suggests that the sugu magi plantation protects the inner cropland from winds, and contributes to conserving water in the soil to a degree.48 Another case study examined the reduction in wind speed caused by a grove nurtured in flat lands at Sach’on Village, Ŭisŏng County, North Kyŏngsang Province. Because the western part of the village is open, in the year 1392, trees of approximately ten species including two species of Quercus including sawtooth oak, Zelkova tree, Chinese scholar tree, Korean dogwood, and Chinese hackberry, were planted 800 or so meters long from the right side of the back mountain to the main stream along a small creek. The present village residents believe that the grove protects the village from cold western winds in the winter and from monsoons in the summer. When wind speeds measuring 8h west (a), 2h east (b), and 6h east (c) of the grove in the area from July 1 to August 31, 2007, were compared, the figures were lower by 94% and 30%, at (b) and (c) compared to (a), respectively. Wind speeds were reduced by 52 percent and 42 percent at the same sites, when data collected from December 1, 2007, to January 31, 2008, was compared, suggesting that the seasonal variation was probably due to the porosity of the grove at the canopy



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Figure 7.10. A map of the landscape including a riparian village grove and other elements at Sach’onni Village of Ŭisŏng County, North Kyŏngsang Province. Drawn by Dowon Lee and Jieun Lee.

level.49 The results indicate that the village grove reduces the speed of western winds to the village, especially in winter and early spring, controlling microclimates and lessening water loss by evaporation, and thus promotes primary productivity in the adjacent croplands. In addition, the grove helps residents conserve energy in the residential area during the cold winter.50 As we can see from the two cases above, we may say that the traditional village groves were planted in the village boundary to complement the lower-lying parts and to hide ugly elements. They also contributed to saving firewood by lessening the ambient heat loss, and enhancing water use efficiency inside the village by conserving the soil and air moisture.51 3. Conclusions This chapter investigated the issue of the limited availability of water resources, supposing that an extensive application of geomantic principles was largely related to water, which was a major limiting factor for human sustenance during the Chosŏn dynasty. The discussion is based on written documents, oral information,

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and landscape palimpsests. Five subjects of geomantic practices were illustrated: (1) preference of meandering water flows, (2) watershed-based land uses and a village landscape arrangement of back-mountain-and-front-water, (3) mountain of fire anima or vitality and soil moisture, (4) village ponds, and (5) management of the village boundary. A preference of meandering streams, which originated from Chinese geomancy, was naturally maintained in Korea as Koreans wished to retain water for times of water deficiency. The principle of a village layout with the back facing toward a mountain and embracing water in front, which was also rooted in Chinese geomancy, seems to have been maintained and improved on in Korea as a landform conducive to growing rice paddies, which required a large water supply. Particularly in villages that held the belief that the surrounding mountains nourished the vitality of fire, soil, and air, the people developed dedicated practices to help conserve soil and air moisture for their residential area and nearby croplands. For instance, practices such as making ponds inside their village and enforcing a village boundary by nurturing a grove or forest on the flat areas or on a low part of the village were all aimed to regulate the water flows and regulate moisture. The geomantic practices that the Korean people had developed to enhance water use efficiency in the Chosŏn dynasty (1392–1910) can be classified into acquisition, collection, retention and recycling, and discharge of water. The landuse arrangement of back-mountain, front-water was preferentially set by people to acquire clean water from upland forests (acquisition of water). Villagers diverted water into the village from an adjacent stream and prolonged the standing time of water by making ponds, which also enhanced soil moisture and recharged groundwater. In addition, they lessened the evaporation losses from water bodies in residential area and inner rice paddies, thereby keeping the air moist, by enforcing a village boundary of planted and managed groves and forests. Where the water retention capacity of soil was especially poor, people emphasized practices to conserve water resources by linking these practices to the beliefs of a rear mountain with fire anima (collection, retention, and recycling of water). The preference for curved or meandering water flows may be related to slowing water discharge from the village and agricultural areas (discharge of water). These endeavors might have shaped Korea’s traditional cultural landscapes, which used geomantic principles to interpret the landform for land-use planning and design. Based on the above discussion, a typical configuration of a traditional village that Korean people preferred is depicted in figure 7.11. P’ungsu or Korean geomancy includes principles to calm or control winds and acquire waters, as the name indicates. Starting from the recognition that a lack of water resources was at least one of the major factors that made Korean people develop and adhere to geomancy, this study tracked documents and remaining landscapes to investigate this claim. This paper discussed relevant practices to acquire and manage water resources by using geomantic principles during the Chosŏn dynasty, where people suffered from drought and water shortages. Equally



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Figure 7.11. A typical configuration and the spatial components of a traditional Korean village with regard to the acquisition, collection-retention-recycling, and discharge of water. The oval lines indicate the boundary of the village, which includes the watershed divide and village groves. The closed blue circle denotes the collection and retention of water, and the blue circled arrow denotes the recycling of water. Drawn by Dowon Lee and Jieun Lee.

significantly, this paper identified the scope of local wisdom in the practices of traditional Koreans as they introduced geomancy from China and interpreted it according to their varied landscapes to manage scarce resources sustainably. The next chapter on geomantic folk narratives about the bamboo groves in Chinju City also deals with geomancy as related to water resources during the Chosŏn dynasty. Local people prudently managed the artificially established groves to regulate water quality and control river flooding. The following chapter is a micro-scale inductive case study of the bamboo groves of Chinju, a southern city of South Korea. Notes   1. I am grateful to Aram Lee, Rahul T. Vaswani, GoWoon Kim, and Yoori Cho for refining the English expressions in this paper.  2. Fikret Berkes, “Traditional Ecological Knowledge in Perspective,” in Traditional Ecological Knowledge: Concepts and Cases, ed. Julian T. Inglis (Ottawa: Canadian Museum of Nature, 1993), 1–9; Pigyo Minsok Hakhoe (Asian Comparative Folklore Society), Minsok-

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kwa Hwan’gyŏng (Folklore and the Environment), Pigyo Minsok Hakhoe Haksul Ch’ongsŏ (Asian Comparative Folklore Society Academic Ser.) (Seoul: Minsogwon, 2002); Lee Dowon, Han’guk Yet Kyŏnggwan Sog-ŭi Saengt’ae Chihye (Ecological Wisdom in the Traditional Landscapes of Korea), Sŏul Taehakkyo Han’gukhak Monogŭraep’ŭ (Seoul National University Korean Studies Monographs), vol. 7 (Seoul: Sŏul Taehakkyo Ch’ulp’anbu, 2003); Charles R. Menzies, Traditional Ecological Knowledge and Natural Resource Management (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2006).   3. Personal communication with Hong-key Yoon, 13 January 2016.   4. Yoon, The Culture of Fengshui in Korea, 68.   5. Lee Dowon, Chŏnt’ong Maŭl Kyŏnggwan Yosodŭr-ŭi Saengt’aejŏk Ŭimi (The Ecological Significance of Landscape Elements in Traditional Korean Villages), Sŏul Taehakkyo Han’gukhak Monogŭraep’ŭ (Seoul National University Korean Studies Monographs), vol. 26 (Seoul: Sŏul Taehakkyo Ch’ulp’anbu, 2004), 109; Lee Dowon and Park Chan-Ryul, “Uri Nara Chŏnt’ong Saengt’ae Chisik-kwa Silch’ŏn-ŭi Hyŏndaejŏk Hamŭi: Chisok Kanŭngsŏng Kwanchŏm” (The Contemporary Implications of the Traditional Ecological Knowledge and Praxis of Korea: A Sustainability Perspective), in Asia Saengt’ae Munhwa Immun (Introduction to Asian Eco-culture), ed. the Munhwa Ch’eyuk Kwan’gwangbu (Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism) Asia Munhwa Chungsim Tosi Chosŏng Ch’ujin Kihoektan (Office for the Hub City of Asian Culture) (Seoul: Minsogwon, 2009), 355; Kim Youngil, Kang Sinkyu, Lim Jong-Hwan, Lee Dowon, and Kim Joon, “Inter-Annual and Inter-Plot Variations of Wood Biomass Production as Related to Biotic and Abiotic Characteristics at a Deciduous Forest in Complex Terrain, Korea” Ecological Research 25, no. 4 (2010): 757–69.   6. From August 11, 1394, in T’aejo Sillok (Annals of King T’aejo),   7. From October 4, 1404, in T’aejong Sillok (Annals of King T’aejong).   8. Yu Kŭm, Yanghwanjip (A Collection of the Balls of Dung Beetles), trans. and ed. Park Hee-Byung, Maltong Kusŭl: Yu Kŭm Sijip (The Balls of Dung Beetles: A Collection of Poems by Yu Kŭm), Uri Kojŏn Paeksŏn (100 Korean Classics), vol. 1 (Seoul: Tol Pegae, 2006), 20.   9. Park Hee-Byung, personal communication. 10. Yi T’aejin, “‘Sobinggi’ (1500~1750nyŏn)-ŭi Ch’ŏnch’e Hyŏnsangjŏk Wonin: Chosŏn Wangjo Sillog-ŭi Gwallyŏn Kirok Punsŏk” (The Causes of the “Little Ice Age” (1500–1750): An Analysis of Relevant Records in the Annals of the Chosŏn Dynasty), Kuksagwan Nonch’ong (Treatises on Korean History) 72 (1996): 89–126. 11. Song Chaesŏn, Tongmul Soktam Sajŏn (A Dictionary of Proverbs about Animals) (Seoul: Tongmunsŏn, 1997); Pak Yŏng’won and Yang Chaech’an, eds., Han’guk Soktam Sŏng’ŏ Paekkwa Sajŏn (An Encyclopedia of Korean Proverbs and Phrases), 2 vols. (Seoul: P’urŭn Sasang, 2002); Chŏng Chongjin, ed., Han’gug-ŭi Soktam Taesajŏn (The Grand Dictionary of Korean Proverbs) (P’aju: T’aehaksa, 2006). 12. Yoon, The Culture of Fengshui in Korea. 13. Xu Shanji and Xu Shanshu, Dili Renzi Xuezhi (Geomantic Facts that All Humanity Must Know), trans. Kim Tonggyu; Inja Suji: Chahyo P’ungsu Chiri Simhak, 2 vols., Myŏngmun Yŏkhak Ch’ongsŏ (Outstanding Texts for the Study of the Yijing Ser.), vols. 67–68 (Seoul: Myŏngmundang, 2008). 14. Choi Won-suk, Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu-wa Pibo, 294–306. 15. Choi, Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu-wa Pibo, 243–306. 16. Lee Dowon, Koh Insu, and Park Chan-Ryul, Chŏnt’ong Maŭl Sup’-ŭi Saengt’aegye Sŏbisŭ (The Ecosystem Services of Traditional Village Groves in Korea), Sŏul Taehakkyo



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Han’gukhak Monogŭraep’ŭ (Seoul National University Korean Studies Monographs), vol. 52 (Seoul: Sŏul Taehakkyo Ch’ulp’anbu, 2007), 52. Koh Insu, Kim Seogcheol, and Lee Dowon, “Effects of Bibosoop Plantation on Wind Speed, Humidity, and Evaporation in a Traditional Agricultural Landscape of Korea: Field Measurements and Modeling,” Agriculture, Ecosystems & Environment 135, no. 4 (2010): 294–303. 17. Hwang Kiwon, Ch’aek-kat’ŭn Tosi, Tosi-gat’ŭn Ch’aek (Book-like Cities, City-like Books) (Seoul: Yŏlhwadang, 1995), 121. 18. Choi Changjo, “Saengt’ae Maŭl-gwa P’ungsu Chiri” (Eco-villages and Geomancy), paper presented at the 29th T’oji Munhwa Chaedan (Toji Cultural Foundation) Seminar “Chŏnt’ong Kŏnchug-ŭi Saengt’ae Munhwajŏk Yŏn’gu-wa Silhyŏn” (Eco-cultural Research on and Practice of Traditional Architecture), Wonju, South Korea, February 23, 2002. 19. Lee, Chŏnt’ong Maŭl Kyŏnggwan Yosodŭr-ŭi Saengt’aejŏk Ŭimi, 12. 20. Park Young-soon, et al., Uri Yet Chip Iyagi: Han’guk Chŏnt’ong Chut’aeg-ŭi Sillae Konggan (A Story of Our Houses in the Olden Days: The Interior Space of Traditional Korean Houses) (Seoul: Yŏlhwadang, 1998). 21. Lee Dowon, Kyŏnggwan Saengt’aehak: Hwan’gyŏng Kyehoek-kwa Sŏlgye, Kwalli-rŭl wihan Konggan Saengni (Landscape Ecology: Spatial Physiology for Environmental Planning, Design, and Management) (Seoul: Sŏul Taehakkyo Ch’ulp’anbu, 2001), 280. 22. Lee, Chŏnt’ong Maŭl Kyŏnggwan Yosodŭr-ŭi Saengt’aejŏk Ŭimi, 13. 23. Koh, Kim, and Lee, “Effects of Bibosoop Plantation on Wind Speed, Humidity, and Evaporation in a Traditional Agricultural Landscape of Korea,” Agriculture, Ecosystems & Environment 135, no. 4: 294–303. 24. Lee, Chŏnt’ong Maŭl Kyŏnggwan Yosodŭr-ŭi Saengt’aejŏk Ŭimi. 25. Hwang Taehee, Kang Sinkyu, Kim Joon, Kim Youngil, Lee Dowon, and Lawrence Band, “Evaluating Drought Effect on Modis Gross Primary Production (GPP) with an Eco‐ Hydrological Model in the Mountainous Forest, East Asia” Global Change Biology 14, no. 5 (2008): 1037–56. 26. Robert S. Schemenauer, Pilar Cereceda, and Nazareno Carvajal, “Measurements of Fog Water Deposition and Their Relationships to Terrain Features,” Journal of Climate and Applied Meteorology 26, no. 9 (1987): 1285–91. Robert S. Schemenauer and Pilar Cereceda, “The Quality of Fog Water Collected for Domestic and Agricultural Use in Chile,” Journal of Applied Meteorology 31, no. 3 (1992): 275–90. 27. Todd E. Dawson, “Fog in the California Redwood Forest: Ecosystem Inputs and Use by Plants,” Oecologia 117, no. 4 (1998): 476–85; David D. Breshears, Nathan G. McDowell, Kelly L. Goddard, Katherine E. Dayem, Scott N. Martens, Clifton W. Meyer, and Karen M. Brown, “Foliar Absorption of Intercepted Rainfall Improves Woody Plant Water Status Most During Drought,” Ecology 89, no. 1 (2008): 41–47; Kevin A. Simonin, Louis S. Santiago, and Todd E. Dawson, “Fog Interception by Sequoia sempervirens (D. Don) Crowns Decouples Physiology from Soil Water Deficit,” Plant, Cell & Environment 32, no. 7 (2009): 882– 92. 28. Martha Scholl, Werner Eugster, and Reto Burkard, “Understanding the Role of Fog in Forest Hydrology: Stable Isotopes as Tools for Determining Input and Partitioning of Cloud Water in Montane Forests,” Hydrological Processes 25, no. 3 (2011): 353–66. 29. Richard H. Waring and Steven W. Running, Forest Ecosystems: Analysis at Multiple Scales, 3rd ed. (Burlington, MA: Academic Press, Elsevier, 2007).

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30. Emile Bourdaret, En Corée, trans. Chŏng Chin’guk, Taehan Cheguk Ch’oehu-ŭi Sumkyŏl (Seoul: Kŭl Hang’ari, 2009). 31. Nyle C. Brady, and Ray R. Weil, Elements of the Nature and the Properties of Soil, 13th ed. (Boston: Prentice Hall, 2009); Lee Dowon, manuscript. 32. Han Pil-won, “Chŏnt’ong Maŭr-ŭi Hwan’gyŏng Saengt’aehakchŏk Haesŏk: Kyŏngbuk Kimch’ŏnsi Kusŏngmyŏn Sang’wolli Wont’ŏ Maŭr-ŭl Taesang-ŭro” (An Environmental Ecological Interpretation of a Traditional Korean Village: With Wont’ŏ Village in Sang’wolli, Kusŏngmyŏn, Kimch’ŏn, North Kyŏngsang Province as the Object), Taehan Kŏnch’uk Hakhoe Nonmunjip (Journal of the Architectural Institute of Korea) 12, no. 7 (1996): 121–32. 33. Han, “Chŏnt’ong Maŭr-ŭi Hwan’gyŏng Saengt’aehakchŏk Haesŏk.” 34. Lee, Chŏnt’ong Maŭl Kyŏnggwan Yosodŭr-ŭi Saengt’aejŏk Ŭimi, 12–16; Lee Dowon, Park Sujin, Yoon Hong-key, and Choi Won Suk, Chŏnt’ong Saengt’ae-wa P’ungsu Chiri: Sot’ong-ŭi Chihye, Chisok Kanŭngsŏng-ŭi Yŏlsoe (Traditional Ecology and Geomancy: The Wisdom of Communication, the Key to Sustainability) (Seoul: Chiobuk, 2012), 19–34. 35. Choi, Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu-wa Pibo, 294–303. 36. Han, “Chŏnt’ong Maŭr-ŭi Hwan’gyŏng Saengt’aehakchŏk Haesŏk,” 121–33. 37. Yun Choonsik, personal communication. 38. Kim Pong’u, Kyŏngnam-ŭi Maktolt’ap-kwa Sŏndol (Stone Towers and Monoliths in South Kyŏngsang Province) (Seoul: Chimmundang, 2000). 39. Han Pil-won, “Han’guk Chŏnt’ong Maŭr-ŭi Hwan’gyŏng Ch’inhwasŏng” (The Environment-friendliness of Traditional Korean Villages), in Han’gug-ŭi Chŏnt’ong Saengt’aehak [1]: Saengt’aehag-ŭn Yet Saram-ŭi Sarm An-e Issŏtta (Traditional Ecology in Korea [1]: Ecology Was in the Lives of People in the Olden Days), ed. Lee Dowon (Seoul: Saiŏnsŭ Puksŭ, 2004), 548–69. 40. Lee and Park, “Uri Nara Chŏnt’ong Saengt’ae Chisik-kwa Silch’ŏn-ŭi Hyŏndaejŏk Hamŭi,” 355. 41. Lee, Park, Yoon, and Choi, Chŏnt’ong Saengt’ae-wa P’ungsu Chiri, 43–45. 42. Choi, Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu-wa Pibo, 246–94. 43. This was documented on March 8, 1447 (the thirtieth year of King Sejong’s reign), according to the lunar calendar, and cited in the T’aengniji authored by Yi Chung-hwan in 1751. 44. Choi, Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu-wa Pibo, 246–94. 45. Lee, Park, Yoon, and Choi, Chŏnt’ong Saengt’ae-wa P’ungsu Chiri, 51. 46. Lee, Koh, and Park, Chŏnt’ong Maŭl Sup’-ŭi Saengt’aegye Sŏbisŭ, 246–94. 47. Koh, Kim, and Lee, “Effects of Bibosoop Plantation on Wind Speed, Humidity, and Evaporation in a Traditional Agricultural Landscape of Korea,” 294–303. 48. Lee, Koh, and Park, Chŏnt’ong Maŭl Sup’-ŭi Saengt’aegye Sŏbisŭ, 66–76. 49. Koh Insu, Park Chan-Ryul, Kang Wanmo, and Lee Dowon, “Seasonal Effectiveness of a Korean Traditional Deciduous Windbreak in Reducing Wind Speed,” Journal of Ecology and Environment 37 no. 2 (2014): 91–97. 50. Koh Insu, unpublished data. 51. Lee, Park, Yoon, and Choi, Chŏnt’ong Saengt’ae-wa P’ungsu Chiri, 43–61.

8 Geomantic Folk Narratives on the Bamboo Groves in Chinju City Landscape as a Sign of Geomantic and Confucian Ideology

Kim Duk Hyun

1. Understanding the Groves of Traditional Korean Settlements Artificially established groves are an impressive landscape feature that people often encounter in traditional Korean settlements. Various geographical records from the Chosŏn Dynasty reveal the importance attached to artificially established groves 林 藪 (imsu) in Korean settlements, and show that they were careful managed, whether in rural settlements or towns. Artificially planted and fostered groves mainly consisted of Korean pine trees. Pines were the main source of timber and building material for house construction in Korea. Pines were also Confucian scholars’ favorites due to their evergreen nature, which symbolized Confucian ideals of integrity and constancy (not changing one’s mind on a whim). Villagers often planted these pines as a means of water management to protect their settlements from floods and to conserve water. In the case of the City of Chinju, bamboo groves were established instead of pines, which is a rare case in Korea. Only a small number of artificially established town (city) groves remain in the modern age; most have disappeared. However, some well-maintained village groves still survive in traditional rural settlements. Artificially established groves positioned in front of settlements and towns draw attention to their status as an important characteristic of traditional Korean settlement landscape for three reasons. First, a landscape of large groves in the front of a settlement is visually pleasing. Second, the groves are a representative geomantic landscape of the traditional settlement mainly created for pibo 裨補, or reinforcement of the settlement’s geomantic landscape. Third, although the groves may be vulnerable to flooding, suitable for timber, or on land that would be appropriate for use as farmland, they were well maintained because of their ideological symbolism.1 In general, the groves of traditional settlements have been described as reflections of ecological wisdom from traditional times and a geomantic reinforcement of local landscapes.2 This chapter adopts an 139

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interpretative approach to discovering how ecological the geomantic landscapes of settlement groves are and how they relate to Confucian values, the main political and social ideology of the Chosŏn dynasty. An Interpretative Approach to the Settlement Groves The groves of traditional settlements are visually attractive and ecologically important landscapes, and their creation is mostly motivated by considerations from geomancy discourse, especially the idea of geomantic reinforcement (pibo) of the local landscape. However, these groves are also ecologically vulnerable, because they are located on the waterside, an area that is prone to flooding, and also represent a valuable timber resource with high economic value. For these reasons the locals tend not only to neglect looking after them, but are tempted to harvest (legally or illegally) mature trees for their own economic benefit. Therefore, the conservation and maintenance of these groves in traditional Korean society required powerful support, interest, and ideological discourse from the ruling class, to justify the need for such groves. In traditional Korean society settlement groves can be interpreted as having had a symbolic meaning. They represented the ruling Confucian idea that these groves were needed to ensure the birth of prominent Confucian scholars in the region, and this need was held in higher regard than the ecological or geomantic significance of the groves. On the other hand, the reasons such importance was attached to settlement groves in traditional society have been forgotten in contemporary Korean cities or settlements where no such groves remain. This phenomenon reflects the change of ideology and values over time. Many groves recorded in local gazetteers 邑誌 (ŭpchi) during the Chosŏn dynasty reflect the traditional principles of geomantic reinforcement, a logic of forming a geomantic space. In everyday life, groves were also linked to securing the ecological health of the settlement and the aesthetic elegance of the landscape. However, when the groves’ survival was threatened due to natural disasters or indiscriminate felling, the force to ensure their preservation in some cases came from Confucian ideology rather than geomancy. It can be hypothesized that during the Chosŏn dynasty, Confucianism attached significance to “ancestor worship 祖先崇拜” and “prosperity of the descendants 子孫繁盛,” key to which was a high likelihood of becoming a government official 官人. Therefore the aspirations of local residents may have acted as a stronger motivation for preserving settlement groves than geomantic reasons. The process of revitalizing the groves was motivated by geomantic reinforcement through a new signification with Confucian ideology at the time of the threat of damage, which is described in table 8.1, “Semiotic System,”3 below. In this case, the groves are considered a text consisting of signs. The text of the groves becomes a geomantic reinforcement (sign) as the geomancy meaning (signified) of hiding geomantic shortcomings according to the code of geomantic



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Table 8.1.  Semiotic system. III. Sign (Symbol)

Secondary signification (Arbitrary implication)

I. Signifier (Form)

3. Sign

Primary signification (Concrete specification)

II. Signified (Ideology)

1. Signifier

2. Signified

(Expressing

(Granting

landscape)

meaning)

Source: Rearranged from Roland Barthes, Mythologies, 272.

discourse is combined with the grove landscape (signifier). This is the primary semiotic process. However, if a different type of discourse works as a dominant ideology, the grove’s geomantic reinforcement may serve as a vessel implying a new meaning arbitrarily. This vessel becomes a signifier that contains a meaning at a new level, emptying the geomancy significance (signified) set in the past. This is the secondary semiotic process. The geomantic reinforcement groves were expanded and a new symbol of the prosperity of Confucian communities was attached after the mid-Chosŏn period when Confucian values became the dominant ideology in towns and settlements. As the existence of the groves attains the dual meaning of geomancy, geomantic reinforcement and the prosperity of Confucian communities through the two steps of the semiotic process, the presence of groves is justified more strongly and the preservation of the groves is continually enforced. Groves are a cultural landscape of the traditional settlement that reflects both the Korean view of nature and the values of traditional Korean society. They can be an excellent text that allows interpretation based on ecological, geomantic, and Confucian ideology. The vitality of dense groves can also be read as a text that stimulates interpretation and the imagination. In addition to the existing ecological and geomantic understandings, a Confucian interpretation enriches the cultural understanding of the grove landscape, a characteristic of the traditional Korean settlement. It is from this perspective that I review the signification of groves and interpret the rise and decline of the bamboo groves of the Nam River, Chinju.

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2. The Groves as Signifiers The Groves of Clan Settlement, Kaehosong 開湖松 In 1986, the author argued that the landscape of a settlement grove (kaehosong) of Nae’ap Village in Andong City, North Kyŏngsang Province, was motivated by geomantic reinforcement. That is, the grove was used to complete the geomantic appearance of the settlement. In the course of preservation, however, the groves were recognized as a symbol that represented Confucian values.4 The grove in a traditional Korean settlement in general functions as an ecological landscape, and its creation is mostly motivated by geomantic discourse, like the geomantic reinforcement of water outlets. The kaehosong in the Nae’ap settlement was also created for such [similar] ecological landscape functions and geomantic needs. However, it can be interpreted that in the process of preservation and efforts to prevent damage, the Confucian values of worshiping ancestors and upholding clan, or chonjo chungjong 尊祖重宗, were added to the signification of the groves, and that they were imbued with the symbolic property to represent the prosperity of Confucian communities. The settlement grove at the water outlet or sugu 水口 of the Nae’ap (川前; literally, “before the stream”) settlement was first created in the early sixteenth century. The groves were damaged by flood and felling three times from the seventeenth century through the eighteenth century, and settlements and families recorded the motivation behind the creation of settlement groves, the need to protect them, and the significance of this preservation, and they prepared a record of resolutions 完 議 (wanŭi) the members signed. This record of resolutions read, “This pine grove is created for the purpose of the geomantic reinforcement of the settlement water outlet [by our ancestors] 此 松以補水口之空虛” (“Kaeho Kŭmsong Wanŭi”).5 Another record stated that “This grove is planted by our ancestors to protect our clan ground and shrine 先代之所 手種, 而爲護宗基廟者也” (“Tongjungch’u Wanŭi”).6 It continued, “If this pine grove disappears, so does Nae’ap settlement. The rise and fall of our family depends on this pine grove 無此松則無川前必矣, 川前卽我宗祠之所在也, 宗基興廢係於此松.” The record concluded “Thus, to respect our ancestors and protect our clan, we must do our best to protect this grove 則其於尊祖重宗之義, 犬荳不盡心於保護此松” (“Kaeho Kŭmsong Wanŭi”).7 Settlement groves were created for functional and psychological efficacy, as well as to form a geomancy space. However, the strong impulse to preserve this settlement grove did not come from functional efficacy or geomantic reinforcement, but from the Confucian ideology of the time, which was understood as the righteousness of “adoring ancestors and attaching importance to the clan 尊祖重宗之義.” To clan members who shared Confucian values, such as the code of understanding landscape, the grove landscapes were read as a sign that symbolized their values. Confucian values associate keeping groves created by ancestors as practicing the concept of “adoring ancestors and attaching importance to the clan 尊祖重宗,”



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and geomantic reasoning emphasizes geomantic reinforcement of weaknesses in the settlement water outlet as an essential requirement to the betterment of the settlement. These ideas could naturally be combined through the groves kaehosong for geomantic reinforcement of the water outlet of the settlement, and provides a clear spatial protection, which in turn acts to internalize the settlement. The space within the settlement is experienced as “an inside” as opposed to “an outside” by the settlement grove.8 The geomantic reinforcement of the west of the settlement by the settlement grove enables the residents to say, “We really live there” at the space of the (settlement), the existential position internalized through spatial protection. The dense grove at the entrance to the settlement becomes a sign to remind the people of Nae’ap, a typical settlement of Confucian culture, that they are physically connected to their ancestors: “from there, our home where our ancestors have lived.” The dense settlement grove planted and looked after by their ancestors to protect the ground of their clan enforced the Confucian ideology of “respect ancestors and uphold the clan.” The settlement grove that their ancestors planted for the prosperity of the clan became a symbolic sign that reminded the descendants to do their duty of preserving their clan 家門 (kamun). Confucian Scholars’ Perspective on Geomancy Groves can be a sign that represents ideological value not only in a settlement unit like a clan settlement but also in a local community like a town. Local communities in the Chosŏn dynasty believed that sharing Confucian values promised them prosperity, and cases in which a sign representing Confucian ideology was given to the groves can be found in many settlements, including the Nae’ap settlement in Andong City. To understand the role of groves as a sign that delivers ideology, first we should examine Confucian values, the dominant ideology of the Chosŏn dynasty, and consider in what ways the practice of the values relates to geomantic discourse. The normative goal of Confucian life is the practice of “benevolence 仁,” which is expressed as “the mind that produces all things in the world 天地生萬物之心” or the “myriad things’ will to live 萬物之生意.” Benevolence means love, and the basic unit in which it is enacted is the family relationship, that is, xiaoti 孝悌—filial piety toward the parents and respectful relationships between siblings. “Benevolence,” the highest value of Confucianism, begins with filial piety 孝, which is based on the principle of self-preservation 保身之道 and is completed in achieving success in society 立身之道.9 To Chosŏn dynasty Confucian scholars 儒家 (Yuga), upholding “the prosperity of clan 家 (ka)” was of utmost importance and geomancy was accepted as a way to achieve this goal. The Confucian scholars accepted the practice of geomancy as a matter of human nature 人之常情 to ensure the prosperity of the family. There is a mutual resonance between [vital] energies 氣感應, to which geomancy attaches importance and uses ghosts (dead ancestors) as a medium.10 However, the worldview that “heaven and humanity share the same

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nature 天人同構 (tianren tonggou)” of the Yijing (Classic of Changes, the representative Confucian scriptures) has been succeeded by moralists such as Zhu Xi 朱子.11 Confucian scholars also attach importance to the resonance between heaven and man 天人感應 as compared to geomancy’s mutual resonance between spirits. However, it is more emotional and aesthetic rather than substantial. The heaven 天 of Confucianism is the external nature including the universe; however, it is not a religious-theological, scientific-cognitive one. Heaven is the object expressing aesthetic values and emotional feelings like a beautiful scene. Zhu Xi recognized the power of life 生意 (shengyi) he felt in the beautiful scene of groves 林藪 viewed across a river from a pavilion on a warm spring day as “the mind with which heaven produced all things,” that is, benevolence, and expressed his aesthetic emotion of the resonance between heaven and man, which he not only had in mind but also tried to share with others in the form of this poem: The clear stream I look down [on] from a high pavilion, I watch till sunset after I climbed at dawn. It is beautiful on a warm spring day, the stream on the opposite side looks at trees! It forms a grove to boast of its beauty, so each tree reveals the power of life! Great harmony (the concept), by itself, doesn’t speak, so who can realize this mind with me?12 Heaven and humanity 天人 (nature-society) to a Confucian scholar can be said to be an “idea of nature becoming humanity,” which excludes the sorcery, theological, or religious interpretation of nature and personifies (ch’ein) the moral virtues and emotional contents aesthetically.13 Chosŏn dynasty Confucian scholars logic of accepting geomancy includes: First, as there are warm lands and cold ones in nature, they attached importance to selecting a site 擇地 based on the natural mutual resonance 感應 in which the living feel comfortable only if the dead feel comfortable.14 Second, the selection of a site for a burial ground was only acceptable to the extent that it did not exceed the moral justification of Confucianism, in terms of accumulation of charitable deeds or chŏktŏk 積德 that would ensure that “a family with accumulated good deeds must have plenty of blessings 積善之家 必有 餘慶” in the Yijing. That is at the level of humanistic moderation 中庸 (zhongyong) rather than deterministic consequences. Third, applying geomancy to burial places 葬地 was understood at the level of basic human nature 人之常情, which is “the mind of a merciful and dutiful child to his or her parents 仁孝之心.”15 During the Chosŏn dynasty Confucian communities, based on their clan networks and local neighborhoods, used to search for and choose geomantically auspicious places. Their deeds were considered to be their duty for their community and to make up for the geomantic shortcomings of their home places. Such actions were carried out to achieve the prosperity of their clan, and were seen as exercises of the Confucian principles of sincerity and trustworthiness 必誠必信



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之道.16 Confucian values centering on the prosperity of the clan and local com-

munity were in harmony with the geomantic idea of selecting a place full of vital energy with fertile land and dense growth of plants. The expression, “in’gŏl chiryŏng 人傑地靈,” which appears often in the writings of Chosŏn dynasty Confucian scholars, including in T’aengniji (Book of Choosing Settlements), also refers to the natural mutual resonance between humanity and nature with which the vital energy 生氣 (shengqi) in densely growing groves would stimulate human activities to bring about the prosperity of their local communities.17 Confucian scholars’ idea of mutual resonance of vital energy can be said to be an attitude at a different level from that of geomancy discourse, which states that “spirits resonate with ghosts to reach living people 氣感而應鬼, 福及人.”18 Both geomancy and Confucian scholars attach importance to vital energy and acknowledge mutual resonance. However, geomancy’s mutual resonance of vital energy is a theory of weal and woe 禍福論 on the mutual resonance of land energy 地氣感應, in which vital energy detected by the shape of the land is transferred to descendants through their parents’ ashes buried into the ground. In contrast, the mutual resonance of the vital energy that Confucian scholars find from natural topography points to the aesthetic and emotional experience of benevolence 仁. In addition, whereas geomancy’s mutual resonance exists outside of human effort, that of Confucian scholars emphasizes a mental attitude of deliberate efforts. Both Confucianism and geomancy are rooted in the East Asian world view of heaven and humanity sharing the same nature or tianren tonggou 天人同構; however, the practice of geomancy is excessively concerned with the mutual resonance of a grave site 陰宅. And yet, in a broad sense, it can be viewed as an idea which has coexisted under the world view of the “mutual resonance between heaven and man 天人感應.” The groves of Confucian settlements during the Chosŏn dynasty signified the realization that vital energy symbolized prosperity. The tradition of establishing groves came from geomantic ideas as a form of making up for the geomantic shortcomings of a settlement landscape, but it was practiced in a Confucian context. Groves as a Symbolic Landscape of Confucian Values In the chronicles of each town in the Chosŏn dynasty, groves are listed as a major item, and the groves are often the target of geomantic reinforcement. A considerable number of the settlement groves survived relatively well as long as the traditional social order was maintained until the end of the Chosŏn dynasty.19 It can be assumed that a meaning was assigned to the town 邑治 (ŭpch’i) groves, which were maintained as public landscapes at the same level as government offices of counties and prefectures, for purposes beyond their beauty or ecological functions. In other words, the status of symbolic landscape that represents ideology related to the rise and decline of the community 家 was granted to the groves. It can be said that the groves were perceived as a sign that protected the grounds of family (settlement) and region (settlement, town) and that secured the prosperity of the community.

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When the groves were originally created, their scenic beauty and ecological role were secondary reasons, while the geomantic reinforcement of landscape was more explicitly at the center of their meaning. As the residents of a settlement, as well as visitors to a settlement, came to appreciate the established groves as a distinct landscape, these groves came to be known as a symbol of Confucian settlement. Cases in which the legitimacy of preserving the groves was desired due to an ideological link to the prosperity of Confucian communities are described in a Confucian scholar’s writing, “Ŭibongnip Ch’asumun 議復立遮藪文” (A Writing Arguing for Rebuilding the Grove Covering the Settlement), by Chang Hyŏn’gwang 張顯光 (1554–1637). He argued that during the revival phase after the Japanese invasion of Korea in 1592, Confucian scholars had the duty to restore their families and towns, and that the revival of their communities meant restoring the ground to the condition it had been in during earlier periods of prosperity: Our town was constructed according to geomantic principles, but as the front field is wide and distant, it is hard to protect the settlement from [strong] wind. So, a grove was created 5 miles [里; li, ri, or ni in Korean; li in Chinese; approximately 2 km] in front of the town, and this grove kept the air clean and clear. This grove was called the blockade or ch’a 遮. The disuse of this very old grove is a sign of the weakening of the spirit of the town. So a plan to help restore the town is to reconstruct this grove. Confucian scholars distrust the practice of geomancy; however, the rise and decline of the grove is related to the fortune of the land 地運, so how can anyone be sure that the disappearance of this grove is not a sign of the weakening of the fortune of the town? Would a plan to help restore this grove be a good sign? Previously, when the grove was healthy, many talented people were born into the town. However, as the grove became unhealthy the number of talented people diminished. Since our ancestors were prosperous when they together created these groves, is bringing up these groves together again and shedding a new light on the town what we, their descendants, hope for?20 Chang Hyŏn’gwang recognized that the town landscape had been built in accordance with geomantic principles and that the town groves were also for geomantic reinforcement. And, as a Confucian scholar, though he disbelieved in the practice of geomancy, he considered the disuse of the groves as a sign of the deterioration of the town. It is especially evident when he identifies the health of the groves as being directly related to the number of talented writers in the town. When the town had abundant talented scholars, the groves were in a healthy state, but when there were no such scholars, the groves had either been removed or were in a poor state. Thus, Chang Hyŏn’gwang argues that the reconstruction of the groves is a way to fulfill a duty to his ancestors and promote his descendants’ prosperity. In Chang Hyŏn’gwang’s writing, we see the recognition he gives to the groves as being typi-



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cal of Confucian scholars in the Chosŏn dynasty, which was a so-called “country of noblemen.” In other words, groves are a major element of forming a settlement space constructed by geomantic discourse. Since the town’s “groves in a healthy state 林藪茂盛” indicated the “abundance of talented people in the settlement 人物繁盛,” cultivating the groves as the ancestors had done and shedding a new light of hope for those groves are the current descendants’ duty. Chang Hyŏn’gwang regards a Confucian scholar’s main practical task, “practicing benevolence 仁,” as vital energy or the power of life, and though this is not explicitly stated, he feels this is to be found in healthy groves. We can see the importance of settlement groves having geomantic significance to a Confucian scholar from his recognition of groves and the talents of scholars implicitly sharing vital energy. 3. The Formation of Geomantic Space and Groves in Chinju The Chinyangji 晉陽誌 (Local Gazetteer of Chinju) is a local gazetteer of Chinju County 晉州牧 (Chinjumok; present-day Chinju City) of Kyŏngsang Province and was compiled by Confucian scholars in Chinju under the lead of Sŏng Yŏsin 成汝信 from 1622 (fourteenth year of Prince Kwanghae’s reign) through 1632 (tenth year of King Injo’s reign).21 Under the influence of the Hamjuji 咸州誌 (Local Gazetteer of Hamju) compiled by Chŏng Ku 鄭逑, it emphasized ideas of loyalty and filial piety, such as faithful retainers and virtuous women.22 Volume 1 of the Chinyangji describes Chinju’s location and mountains and rivers, and city landscape according to geomancy. First, in “Hyŏngsŭng-jo” (Section on Landforms), the characteristics of Chinju’s location are described in geomantic terms: “Chinju is called the eastern land and sea 陸海 (yukhae), because it is the first [best] place in Kyŏngsang Province and has big mountains and rivers. Mt. Pibong 飛鳳山 lies to the north while Mt. Mangjin bows down politely to the north. A long river flows between these two mountains, and many mountains in the east and west windingly surround all directions.”23 Chinju’s geomantic landscape has Mt. Pibong as the main protective mountain 鎭山 (chinsan), the Nam River at the front as the “waist belt,” Mt. Mangjin 望晉 山 at the front in distance as the homage-paying mountain 朝山 (chosan), and Mt. Chiri in the distance. Chinju, located in between such a great mountain as Mt. Chiri and such a great ocean as the South Sea 南海 (Namhae), is a geomantically beautiful place. Chinju City is known as a typical auspicious site with the geomantically required conditions of calming wind and acquiring water. The surrounding mountains protect the propitious site of Chinju City in every direction and the water nearby the auspicious node flows as if adjusting a person’s dress. The watercourse that falls outside the city district surrounds the area in many folds, as if it were a “waist belt” for the city.24 In particular, the geographical circumstances of “mountain behind and watercourse in front” were regarded as the most ideal location for the capital, whether situated in either a country or a provincial settlement: “depending on the chinsan to the north, filled with dragons to the east and

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west, and mountains protecting left and right as if a tiger lies low, surrounded by streams and rivers at the front to the south in many folds.”25 As shown in the Chinju County part of the Haedong Chido 海東地圖 (Map of Korea), Chinju has Mt. Pibong as its main mountain, Mt. Sŏnhak 仙鶴山 as the left blue dragon to the east, and Tangsanjae 堂山齋 as the right white tiger to the west. Also, it adjusts Taesaji 大寺池 (Great Temple Pond) and the Nabul Stream 羅佛川 like its collar, and the Nam River appears to be its waist belt. Of these geographic features Yi Inno 李仁老 said, “Chinju’s landscape of rivers and mountains is the best in Kyŏngsang Province.” Yi Ch’ŏm 李詹 said, “It produced many talents who were loyal to and contributed much to the country because of the clean and clear spirits of the great mountains and rivers 人物之生有補於國者多, 巨嶽大江 磅礡 淸淑之氣有以致之.”26 The Haedong Chido is characterized by its exaggerated expression of geomantic circumstances, which drew Chinju as a view surrounded by the three-fold mountain range. The outermost mountain range in figure 8.1 expresses the administrative domain of Chinju County centering on Mt. Chiphyŏn 集賢山. Geomantic Space Formation inside the Chinju Settlement In the section of mountains and rivers in the local gazetteer of Chinju City, the Chinyangji describes the mountain range consisting of the dragon vein 龍脈 of Chinju City and comments on the geomantic qualities of Mt. Pibong as the main protective mountain.27 In the Haedongjido map, the geomantic situation of the Chinju City is well represented. One geomantic vein of Mt. Tŏgyu runs to the east, becoming Mt. Chagul in Ŭiryŏng, and Mt. Chagul becomes Mt. Chiphyŏn bent to the west. Mt. Pibong is located to the north one ri, Chinju settlement and Mt. Chiphyŏn came to the south, becoming the chinsan of Chinju, which is the site of this town. Since this is in the form of Pibong (flying phoenix), it has Mt. Mangjin at the front and Chuktongch’on 竹洞村 to the west, and accordingly temples such as Taerong 大 籠 and Sorong 小籠 are all named because of “Pibong,” which is for chinap 鎭壓. The geomancy formation of the Chinju settlement is described in detail in “Kwan’gi Ch’ongnon 官基總論” (General Discourse on the Sites of Government Offices) in fascicle 4 of the Chinyangji. “Kwan’gi Ch’ongnon” describes the Chinju settlement using the geomantic code of “Pibong” from the beginning: “The Protective Hill (chinsan) of Chinju City has the shape of Pibong or ‘flying phoenix’, taking Mt. Kŭmnong 金籠山 as its ansan 案山 (table mountain or the front mountain). The government offices are located under the hill, so all places around the site are named to have ‘Pong 鳳’ or ‘Phoenix’ as a part of their place names.”28 “Kwan’gi Ch’ongnon” documents geomantic reinforcement in detail in order to complete Chinju’s geomantic landscape of a flying phoenix.29 According to the Chinyangji, “Mt. Kŭmnong” as the front mountain (the table mountain) refers to the northern hill of Ch’oksŏk Pavilion 矗石樓, where Yongdu Temple 龍頭寺 was



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Figure 8.1. The geomantic map of Chinju (Haedongjido 海東地圖). Courtesy of the Kyujanggak Institute for Korean Studies in Seoul National University.

located. It is assumed to be the place where the Imjin Taech’ŏp Kyesa Sunŭi Chedan 壬辰大捷癸巳殉義祭壇 (Monument Commemorating the Martyrs of the Great Imjin Battle [during the Japanese Invasion of 1592]) is now located. Thus, Mt. Mangjin bowing down 揖 at the opposite side of the Nam River to the city office site is the homage-paying mountain or chosan. Because the geomantic landscape of the Chinju settlement was considered to be a flying phoenix-type 飛鳳形, a number of geomantic reinforcement methods were adopted to keep the phoenix in the settlement. Those geomantic reinforce methods included adopting suitable

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geomantic place names, building a Buddhist temple in a suitable location, creating artificial hills, establishing a grove, and digging a pond in a suitable place. Renaming places and structures to include the word “phoenix” or phoenix-related phenomena was a large part of complementing the geomantic landscape of the flying phoenix. Except for establishing the groves and the designated phoenix’s nest site, little actual construction of structures occurred. Mt. Pibong is the protective mountain of the settlement (the “phoenix”) and Mt. Mangjin or “the mountain net to prevent the phoenix from flying away” is its front mountain or table mountain. People believed that when a phoenix sees magpies, it cannot fly away. Thus a flat field nearby was named “Magpie Field,” or Chakp’yŏng 鵲坪. The pavilion in front of the Guest House, or Kaeksa 客舍, of the main county office building was named Pongmyŏng Pavilion 鳳鳴樓 (Pongmyŏngnu; Singing Phoenix Pavilion) as a means of praying for the auspicious event of the phoenix singing. The house to the east of the county office was called Choyang Pavilion 朝陽閣 (Choyanggak; Morning Sun Pavilion) to welcome the propitious morning glory. In an act of geomantic reinforcement in terms of naming a place and building a temple, Taerong Temple 大籠寺 (Taerongsa; Great Birdcage Temple) and Sorong Temple 小籠寺 (Sorongsa; Small Birdcage Temple) were built in a nearby valley to represent keeping the phoenix in a cage. The settlement viewed from Mt. Pibong was called Chuktong 竹 洞 (Bamboo Village), and bamboos were planted there, for the phoenix supposedly enjoys bamboo as its food.

Figure 8.2. A picturesque map of Chinju. Courtesy of the Kyujanggak Institute for Korean Studies in Seoul National University.



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Geomantic Reinforcement with Groves Many Chosŏn dynasty settlement groves were established in the capital, Hanyang, and in provincial counties and prefectures as well as in settlement units. There were many groves in large towns such as Kyŏngju, Chinju, and Andong that had the geomantic landscape type of acquiring water 得水 形局 (tŭksu hyŏngguk). It is documented in the Chinyangji that, in Chinju, bamboo groves were closely related to the rise and decline of the town. Geomantic reinforcement for the Nam River 菁江 resulted in a grove being created along the river and its tributary. The Chinyangji records the Kajŏngsu 柯亭藪 (Kajŏng Grove), west of the Chinju settlement; the Ch’ŏngch’ŏnsu 菁川藪 (Ch’ŏng Stream Grove), west of the settlement further upstream the Nam River; the Kaeyangsu 開梁藪 (Kaeyang Grove)30 south of the settlement on the opposite side of the Nam River; the Kabangsu 佳 坊藪 (Kabang Grove) in front of Kaegyŏng’won 開慶院 at the eastern entrance of the town; and the Taep’yŏngsu 大坪藪 (Taep’yŏng Grove) along the northern

Figure 8.3. Map of geomantic landscape of Chinju. Drawn by Kim Duk Hyun and Lee Young Hee.

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riverside, and further downstream the Nam River.31 Among these, the Kajŏngsu was described in the Chinyangji as the grove for geomantic reinforcement at the site of the town since Mt. Sŏkkap 石甲山 pierced a propitious site 明堂. That is, the town had been considered ominous. The Kajŏngsu was recorded in Chosen-no Rinso 朝鮮の 林藪 (Groves in Korea), a volume of research data published by the Japanese colonial government. The book recorded the grove as serving as a protection ­forest to ­prevent the Nabul Stream from overflowing during flood season. Geomantic reasons for establishing the Chinju City grove were said to be to protect the city from Mt. Sŏkkap, a mountain that was symbolically piercing the city. Both the Kajŏngsu and Chukch’on geomantic reinforcement was intended to prevent damage from flooding by strengthening the banks and creating bamboo groves. Two groves, the Kaeyangsu and the Ch’ŏngch’ŏnsu, were established to prevent flooding along the banks of the Nam River. Also, downstream of Chinju two groves, the Kabangsu and the Taep’yŏngsu, were said to have been created for geomantic reinforcement concerning the flow of the Ch’ŏng Stream in a southeasterly direction (Sŏnbang 巽方). The Nam River passes in front of the Chinju city wall, forming a narrow canyon between the wall and Mt. Mangjin, which is spread wide. This prevents any flooding in the area. As recorded above, the artificial forest had a specific function, to prevent floods, and was described as a geomantic reinforcement forest 裨補林 (piborim) depending (conditional or dependent) on geomancy discourse. The Confucian Meaning of Chinju Groves The characteristics of Chinju geomancy are exemplified in the geomantic landscape of the “flying phoenix 飛鳳形局.” The government offices of Chinju County were located under Mt. Pibong (Flying Phoenix Mountain), which was the main mountain; Mt. Mangjin (173 m) on the opposite side was the homage-paying mountain to the city, which was an auspicious site and spread its wings far to the east and west. The west wing, or white tiger 右白虎 hill range, was known as Tugogae (137 m) and Tangsanjae (140 m), while the east wing, or azure dragon 左靑龍, was known as “Malt’i” and Mt. Sŏnhak 仙鶴山 (134 m). The interrelated meanings given to the densely clustered bamboo groves on the banks of the Nam River and the geomantic landscape of the “flying phoenix” form the core of the geomantic landscape of Chinju City. Although Mt. Pibong or “Flying Phoenix Mountain” looks like an ordinary hill because of its modest height, people perceived it to be a phoenix spreading its wings in an east-west direction behind the city of Chinju. A phoenix has meaning beyond simply being a propitious bird when related to settlements. According to the Daikanwa Jiten 大漢和辭典 (Sino-Japanese dictionary, written by Morohashi Tetsuji 諸橋轍次), a phoenix 鳳 is “a propitious bird appearing when a saint appears in this world. It lives in paulownia trees, eats bamboo seeds 竹實, and drinks from a sweet spring 醴泉; 甘泉.” The Shuowen Jiezi 說文解字 (Elucidations of Script and Explications of Characters)32 said, “Phoenix is a divine bird. . . . It appears in the country of noble men 君子, flies out of the



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four seas, goes beyond the Kunlun Mountains, drinks the water at Dizhu 砥柱 (‘Axial Column’ in the middle of the Yellow River), washes its feathers in the Ruo River 弱水, sleeps in a windy cave (風穴), and only appears in the countries of a peaceful reign.” The phoenix has a Confucian meaning related to the appearance of a saint and a noble man. Since it eats bamboo seeds, bamboo groves should be preserved well to welcome the phoenix. The main feature of Chinju City’s geomantic landscape is the establishment of bamboo groves, because the city is in the geomantic landscape of a flying phoenix. The farmland in Chinju is fertile, but it often suffers from inundation during floods. The geomantic reinforcement of the city’s landscape with the establishment of bamboo groves functioned as a preventative measure against floods. Settlement groves in Korean Confucianism signify the prosperity of local communities, a peaceful reign by a wise ruler, and the production of talents (noblemen). In the early part of the Chosŏn dynasty, a Confucian scholar-court officer Ha Ryun 河崙 from Chinju said that when the phoenix sings it is a propitious sign that announces a peaceful reign, after which Pongmyŏng Pavilion (Singing Phoenix Pavilion) was named in the hope that it would bring “phoenix’s singing”: As I quietly think about that a phoenix is a propitious spirit of kings, it is said that the phoenix sung on a high hill when the Zhou dynasty [c. 1046–256 BC] was prosperous. Now a wise king at the top is benevolent and righteous. He entrusts tasks to benevolent persons, recruits capable and worthy persons, and values the local magistrates who kindly look after their people. Thus, as Ch’oe Kong governed a peripheral town with a kind, gentle, and harmonious temperament and spread the civilizing influence on his people, the pavilion was named after a phoenix. Naming as such was to wish for a phoenix to sing, a propitious happening (as happened in the Zhou dynasty), by expecting that our current king would have inherited (the sage-like) virtues of King Wen and King Wu [of the Zhou dynasty].33 The appropriateness of keeping bamboo groves, the food of the phoenix, to ensure a peaceful reign and the birth of talented individuals was described in the Chinyangji as follows: In more prosperous times they cultivated groves well and felling was strictly prohibited. The protection of mountains and rivers resulted in clear spirits gathering around the town and a lot of talented individuals and premiers were produced as a result of these divine mountain spirits. All of these were arranged by Tosŏn 道詵, who examined geomantic reinforcement of the circumstances. According to him, “if the grove disappears, the town falls and if the pavilions 樓閣 are high, the town falls.” [The grove refers to the Kajŏngsu and the pavilion to Ch’oksŏk Pavilion.] He could have said so, because he was able to foresee these things.

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Since then, many generations have passed and protection of the groves was in disarray. Groves were not improved anywhere and locals felled trees in the groves—in the case of the Kajŏngsu, the groves were transformed into a farm field. Since the removal of the riverside groves, Ch’oksŏk Pavilion [the iconic government pavilion in Chinju City] is standing lonely and appears to be even higher than before. After the Imjin war with Japan (1592–1598) the government reorganized the local administration districts and relocated the military installations [belonging to the right side district of Kyŏngsang Province] into Chinju City. [Since bringing the military installations into the city,] the culture of promoting literature and civility has degenerated and the number of talented persons and officers 衣冠 [born in the city were] decreased. Thus, Tosŏn’s saying seems to be not fallacious. Tosŏn Tapsan’gi (Master Tosŏn’s Field Report) was in Chinju City, but went missing during the war.34 The above quotes emphasize the importance of preserving bamboo groves to encourage “the phoenix” to stay, as the local legend suggested. As discussed earlier, such action was based on the local residents’ belief in the local legend that claimed the phoenix would ensure the birth of talented scholars in the area. It is lamentable that even “Kajŏngsu,” a village forest used for geomantic reinforcement of a propitious site, was turned into farmland. In the past, when the groves were well preserved, there were a lot of talented people in the settlement. Observing the recent decay of the groves, people have argued that Master Tosŏn, who prophesized that “if the grove falls, the town also does,” was right. Borrowing the authority of the master geomancer, Tosŏn, it is argued that the rise and decline of the groves is related to the birth of talented individuals, as well as the rise and fall of the town. A Confucian scholar’s worldview is especially evident when comparing Ch’oksŏk Pavilion rising and the groves disappearing as a sign of Chinju’s falling. As a geomantic proverb, “in’gŏl chiryŏng,” suggests, in geomancy it is believed that great personalities are born with the aid of the spirit of life, which is concentrated in the land. Accordingly, people came to believe that dense groves symbolized and stimulated the vital energy of an area. In poems depicting the beauty of the Nam River in Chinju, the riverside bamboo grove is described as a natural expression of the prosperous vital energy of the lands that in turn enabled the birth of many great personalities. The poem below by Pak Yung 朴融 (d. 1424) shows that the Nam River’s bamboo groves and the production of talents resonate mutually with the medium of the vital energy of nature: Chinju’s landscape is the best in the Southern region, and there is a pavilion at the riverside! Each layer of mountain peaks looks like a living picture, and dense bamboo groves grow beside a clean river. Green mountains look like they are rising from a folding screen, the white bird, emerging dimly on a mirror.



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I knew that excellent talents were born in this miraculous land already, meaning that excellent subjects will keep on entering the prosperous royal court!35 In fact, in the early part of the Chosŏn dynasty there was a saying that half of Kyŏngsang Province’s talents came from Chinju. However, in the latter part of the Chosŏn dynasty after the Coup of 1623 仁祖反正, when the Northern faction 北人 (Pugin), including Nammyŏng Cho Sik’s 南冥 曺植 best pupil, Chŏng Inhong 鄭仁弘, were expelled from the government, the participation rate of people from Chinju in central government politics declined. Due to the Japanese invasion of Korea in 1592, the Chinju settlement was reduced to all but ruins, and it would have been difficult for the local people to keep the groves healthy. In remembering the fact that when Chinju was flush with talented individuals the groves were dense, the Confucian scholars who compiled the local gazetteer, Chinyangji, advised that restoring and keeping the groves healthy could promise that individuals with abundant talents would born to the region again. A record in “Kwan’gi Ch’ongnon” that notes a link between the thickness of groves and the birth of talented scholars refers to the Confucian scholars in Chinju, including Sŏng Yŏsin, who compiled the Chinyangji. In the latter part of the Chosŏn dynasty, Chinju communities recognized the crisis and expressed hope for an abundance of talents, as in the early part of the Chosŏn dynasty, by cultivating the groves that were a symbolic landscape full of vital energy. The grove along the Nam River in Chinju was established for geomantic reinforcement of the local landscape. During the latter part of the Chosŏn dynasty, the locals responded to the crisis and recharged the meaning of prosperity in a Confucian community. As a result, the groves were bestowed with a secondary symbolic meaning relating to Confucian ideology, which in turn granted the groves a new power. 4. Decline of Nam River Groves “Toksu-type” Chinju and the Flooding of the Nam River The Nam River that flows through the city of Chinju originates from two sources: one is the Kyŏngho River, which flows from the north of Mt. Chiri, and the other is the Tŏkch’ŏn River, which flows from the south of Mt. Chiri. These two rivers join at the west Kwangt’an 光灘 in Chinju and flow southeast. The reason Chinju is called “Tongbangjiryukhae 東方之陸海” (Korea’s sea of land, meaning Korea’s big farmland) is that it is located in the confluence of the river, so the field is wide, the soil is fertile, and the various materials are produced in abundance. This is the merit of a toksu (geomantic landscape of acquiring water) location. On the other hand, toksu locations are very vulnerable to flooding. During the reign of King Chŏngjo (1776–1800), it was already suggested that to prevent flooding, which was identified as a hazard for the area, the river bank should be altered at the merging point of the two branches of the Nam River to create channel to divert excess water into Sach’ŏn Bay.36

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In the 1920s and 1930s, during the time of the Japanese colonial government, the capital of South Kyŏngsang Province, Chinju, was inundated by floods, year after year.37 So, the construction of a dam to prevent the flooding of the tributary of the Nam River was planned and started, but the project was never completed.38 As late as the 1960s, it was finally included as a flood control project in the Economic Development Plan. In 1969, the multipurpose Nam River Dam was constructed, and a new dam, called “Nam River Dam Sungsang Construction,” was started in 1989 and finished in 2001. After the construction of the Nam River Dam, which was completed in two stages, the risk of flood in this region almost entirely disappeared. Moreover, the expansion in the water storage capacity of the Nam River due to the two new dams means the function of the Nam River Dam has extended from flood control to a much wider remit that includes supplying water for homes, industries, and farm irrigation. Consequently, the construction of the Nam River Dam brought about a fundamental change in the meaning and function of the Chinju Nam River groves because many of the environmental management functions that the traditional grove performed have now been taken over by the multipurpose dam. Disappearance of Nam River Groves The book, Chosen-no Rinso, which was published in 1938, listed four groves of the five groves recorded in the Chinyangji. These groves were the Kajŏngsu, Ch’ŏngch’ŏnsu, Taep’yŏngsu, and Namdaech’ŏn Kwanjukchŏn 南大川 官竹田. Judging by its location, the Kwanjukchŏn Grove on the Namdae Stream (Namdaech’ŏn Kwanjukchŏn) is assumed to be the Kaeyang Grove (Kaeyangsu) in the Chinyangji, the local gazetteer of Chinju City. The Kabang Grove (Kabangsu) does not appear in the record, and consequently it is assumed to have disappeared by the twentieth century. According to the documentation in Chosen-no Rinso, the Kajŏng Grove (Kajŏngsu) was developed as farmland and the groves disappeared, leaving just one Zelkova tree standing alone on the riverside. The Taep’yŏng Grove and the Ch’ŏng Stream Grove were also developed as farmland, although some bamboo and recently planted popular trees still stand here and there. Only the Kwanjukchŏn Bamboo Grove on the Namdae Stream survived, and became the site of a model bamboo grove maintained by South Kyŏngsang Province. According to the records, these groves were created as a protection forest to prevent flood damage and damage from the wind, as well as geomantic reinforcement. After experiencing the great flood in August 1937, during which 69 percent of the houses in Chinju were damaged, the Japanese colonial government constructed a dam upstream and planned a channel to discharge water from the Nam River into Sach’ŏn Bay to permanently prevent flooding. Knowledge from the olden days regarding bamboo groves protecting river banks is well known, and thus they have been protected. Bamboo was also used for making various wares and was recognized as being effective in countering flood hazards. Before the construction of the Nam River Dam, nearly all groves were developed as farmland, except the



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Kwanjukchŏn Bamboo Grove on the Namdae Stream, which was protected by the local government. After the construction of the Nam River Dam in the 1970s, Chinju’s landscape changed greatly once again. The greatest change was in the construction of the large-scale strong riverbanks along the Nam River, and it was during this process that most of the bamboo groves of Chinju Nam River’s attractive past landscape were removed. The bamboo groves on the southern side of the Nam River had been protected until the end of the Japanese occupation, but, despite this, today the groves are not thought of with any special affection by Chinju communities. A significant discrepancy exists between the sentiment expressed by our ancestors, as documented in the local gazetteer of Chinju City, and contemporary city dwellers. It is sad to see such a difference between the past and the present. The few bamboo groves that remain are still as green as ever; however, the geomantic discourse that gave reason to construct the bamboo groves in the first place is now regarded as stories from the past, and few people remember the symbolic meaning of the bamboo groves as being full of the vital energy 生氣, the strength of which was directly related to the rise and decline of the area’s prosperity. 5. Interpretation of the Significance of Settlement Groves So far, we have discussed a semiotic understanding of groves in front of traditional Korean settlements in terms of geomantic and Confucian ideologies. The significance of the grove at the Nam River of Chinju City can be examined at three levels. Firstly, it has ecological function as a protective forest on the riverbank of a settlement prone to flooding, and also thought of as a geomantic landscape of acquiring plenty of water (tŭksu-type settlement). Second, it has a symbolic status as making up for the shortcomings of the geomantic harmony of a settlement. Making up for the shortcomings of a settlement landscape through geomantic reinforcement can be merely a symbolic gesture, rather than actually modifying the landscape on a large scale. Third, it is a sign signifying a belief in the importance of clan 家 prosperity. The key motivation for establishing groves during the Chosŏn dynasty was that those groves were functioning as a form of geomantic reinforcement for a landscape shortcoming, rather than the ecological function of strengthening the riverbank and protecting the area from floods. When the preservation of the groves was in crisis in the late Chosŏn dynasty, the ruling class of Chinju, which mostly consisted of Confucian scholars, promoted the importance of the geomantic vital energy the groves had, and advised the community that the groves were important if they desired great people (Confucian scholars and government officers) to be born in the city. This was an important part of the power game between Confucian communities. Geomancy is an idea that attaches importance to the vital energy of the land, and thus the geomantic landscape was understood to be the container of this energy. The settlement groves are important elements in the construction of villages and towns as part of a geomantic landscape. The groves were codified as a sign of making up for the shortcomings of a geomantic landscape through the discourse of geomancy.

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­ owever, over the course of social and natural changes the groves became in danH ger of disestablishment, and it was Confucian ideology that saved them: Confucian scholars perceived the vital energy contained in the groves as being directly related to enabling the birth of many personalities from the region. The meaning ascribed to the groves as symbols of abundant talents can be seen as a form of secondary signification. In the secondary semiotic process, the meaning of geomancy discourse, geomantic reinforcement empties its contents and is effectively converted to a form (vessel) that contains a new meaning, based upon Confucian ideology. The twostep signification of the groves could illustrate the effect of “naturalization 自然化,” in which symbolic systems such as geomancy or Confucianism are signified and presented as natural, as if they are of a real world. In this process the term “dense groves” (signifier) comes to mean “vital energy” (signified), thus the concepts of “chigi 地氣” from geomantic discourse and “will to life 生意” meaning “benevolence 仁” of Confucianism could coexist in the landscape of the groves. The dense groves created originally by geomantic reinforcement were recognized as an embodiment of the most vigorous spirit of life presented at the front of the settlement and were read as a representative text that symbolized the prosperity of the communities of Chinju during the Chosŏn dynasty. In traditional Korean society there would have been more examples of settlement groves acting as texts representing the value of the community, in addition to the Andong, Nae’ap, kaehosong, and Chinju Nam River groves. 6. Conclusion As the Chosŏn dynasty collapsed, the Confucian ideology lost its power. After the Nam River Dam was constructed and large-scale embankments were built, floods all but disappeared from Chinju. However, in this process, the Nam River groves also disappeared. The three-layered system of signification of the Nam River groves, the meaning of geomantic reinforcement, and the idea of geomancy that contributed to the creation of the groves as explicit discourse, was not fixed but can be seen as a vessel 容器 that carries the ecological value of rivers or the meanings and contents related to Confucian values. In this context, the significance of geomantic discourse is worth reconsidering in modern times when ecological value is stressed. In the age of Confucian ideology, geomancy contributed as a vessel that contained “saengmuljisim 生物之心” or the “will to life 生意,” meaning Confucian “benevolence 仁.” Conversely, at present, Geomancy can function as a “vessel” that contains ecological meanings. In this chapter the author examined the ecological impact of geomancy on establishing and managing artificial groves surrounding human settlements for flood control. In the next two chapters we examine the role of geomancy in Korean architecture and landscape architecture within Korean settlements. Notes   1. Kim Duk Hyun, “Chŏnt’ong Ch’ollag-ŭi Tongsu-e Kwanhan Yŏn’gu: Andong Nae’ap Ma’ur-ŭi Kaehosong-ŭl Chungsim-ŭro” (A Study of Tutelary Groves in Traditional Villages:



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With a Focus on the Settlement Grove in Nae’ap Village in Andong), Chirihak Nonch’ong (Journal of Geography) 13 (1986): 29–45; and Choi Won Suk, “Chosŏn Hugi Yŏngnam Chibang Sajokch’on-ŭi P’ungsu Tamnon” (The Geomantic Discourse of Aristocratic Villages in Kyŏngsang Province during the Latter Half of the Chosŏn Dynasty), Han’guk Chiyŏk Chiri Hakhoeji (Journal of the Korean Association of Regional Geographers) 16, no. 3 (2010): 265–74.   2. For works in the field of geomancy, see Sung Dong Hwan, “P’ungsu Nolli Sog-ŭi Saengt’ae Kaenyŏm-gwa Saengt’ae Kisul” (Ecological Concepts and Ecological Techniques in the Logic of Geomancy), Taedong Munhwa Yŏn’gu (Journal of Eastern Studies) 50 (2005): 505–34; and Choi, Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu-wa Pibo. For works on ecology, see Lee, ed., Han’gug-ŭi Chŏnt’ong Saengt’aehak (1); and Lee Dowon, ed., Han’gug-ŭi Chŏnt’ong Saengt’aehak 2: Kyŏnggwan-gwa Saenghwal Konggan Ilki (Traditional Ecology in Korea 2: Reading Landscapes and Everyday Spaces) (Seoul: Saiŏnsŭ Puksŭ, 2008). For works on landscape architecture, see Chang Tongsu et al., “Han’guk Chŏnt’ong Tosi Sup’-ŭi Ipchijŏk T’ŭksŏng-gwa Yuhyŏng-e Kwanhan Yŏn’gu” (A Study of Locational Characteristics and Types of Traditional Urban Forests in Korea), Kukt’o Kyehoek (Journal of Korean Planners Association) 29, no. 1 (1994): 201–17; Chang Tongsu et al., “Han’guk Chŏnt’ong Tosi Sup’ (Ŭpsu)-ŭi Punp’o, Yuhyŏng, Kinŭng, Imsang-e Kwanhan Yŏn’gu” (A Study of the Distribution, Types, Functions, and Forest Conditions of Traditional Korean Urban Forests (Ŭpsu)), Kukt’o Kyehoek (Journal of Korean Planners Association) 29, no. 2 (1994): 249–60; Chang Tongsu et al., “Chŏnt’ong Tosi Sup’-ŭi Siryongjŏk Kinŭng-e Kwanhan Yŏn’gu (2)” (A Study on the Practical Function of the Traditional Urban Forest in Korea [2]), Kukt’o Kyehoek (Journal of Korean Planners Association) 30, no. 5 (1995): 183–96; and Kim Hakpŏm and Chang Tongsu, Maŭl Sup: Han’guk Chŏnt’ong Purag-ŭi Tangsup-kwa Sugu Magi (Village Groves: The Village Tutelary Groves and Water Outlet Shields of Traditional Korean Villages), Han’guk Kich’ŭng Munhwa-ŭi T’amgu (Exploration of the Plebeian Culture of Korea), vol. 6 (Seoul: Yŏlhwadang, 1994).   3. Roland Barthes, Mythologies, trans. the Ihwa Yŏja Taehakkyo (Ewha Womans [sic] University) Kihohak Yŏn’guso (Semiological Research Centre) (Seoul: Tongmunsŏn, 1997), 267–75.   4. Kim, “Chŏnt’ong Ch’ollag-ŭi Tongsu-e Kwanhan Yŏn’gu.”   5. Kaeho Kŭmsong Yusa (Settlement Grove Administrative Officer), “Kaeho Kŭmsong Wanŭi” (Record of Resolutions on Settlement Groves); Kim, “Chŏnt’ong Ch’ollag-ŭi Tongsu-e Kwanhan Yŏn’gu,” 43.   6. Ch’ŏnjŏn Tongjung (Nae’ap Villagers), “Tongjungch’u Wanŭi” (Record of Villagers’ Resolutions), 42–43.  7. Kaeho Kŭmsong Yusa, “Kaeho Kŭmsong Wanŭi”; Kim, “Chŏnt’ong Ch’ollag-ŭi Tongsu-e Kwanhan Yŏn’gu,” 43.   8. Christian Norberg-Schulz, Existence, Space and Architecture, trans. Kim Kwanghyŏn, Silchon, Konggan, Kŏnch’uk, rev. ed., Kŏnch’uk Tosi Hwan’gyŏng Ch’ongsŏ (Architecture, Cities, and Environment Ser.) vol. 4 (Seoul: T’aerim Munhwasa, 1985), 38.   9. Meaning house or household, ka 家 can be divided into pon’ga 本家, or a family organization based on the bloodline, and kukka 國家, or a “nation” or “state” of territorial organization based law (righteousness). Theoretically the relationships between these two organizations are promoted as complementing each other and thus form unity (i.e., are identical). However, in reality these two can have mutual conflicts of interest. 10. Guo Pu, Jinnangjing (The Classic of the Silk Pouch), “Qiganbian” (Interaction between Qi), in Qingwujing, Jinnangjing (The Classic of the Azure Crow and the Classic of the Silk Pouch), by Qingwu and Guo Pu, trans. Choi Changjo, Ch’ŏng’ogyŏng, Kŭmnanggyŏng: P’ungsu Chirihag-ŭi Ch’oe’go Kyŏngjŏn (Seoul: Minŭmsa, 1993), 59–90.

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11. “The Heaven and Earth are a myriad of great things and thus a myriad of things are the Heaven and Earth. Humanity is a small Heaven and Earth.” Li Jingde, ed., Zhuzi Yulei (Classified Conversations of Zhu Xi), 2 vols. (Kyoto: Chubun Shuppansha, 1970), 68–69. 12. Zhu Xi, Zhuzi Daquan (The Complete Works of Zhu Xi), fasc. 6, “Ti-Lin Zezhi Xinmuting” (Naming Lin Zezhi’s Xinmu Pavilion) (Seoul: Chunghwadang, 1986), 69. 13. Li Zehou, Huaxia Meixue (The Chinese Aesthetic Tradition), trans. Kwon Ho, Hwaha Mihak, Tongmunsŏn Munye Sinsŏ (Dongmunseon New Books in Literature and the Arts) vol. 21 (Seoul: Tongmunsŏn, 1990), 96–104. 14. Chŏng Yagyong, Yŏyudang Chŏnsŏ (The Complete Works of Yŏyudang), Han’guk Kojŏn Pŏnyŏgwon (Institute for the Translation of Korean Classics) database, http://db.itkc. or.kr/itkcdb/mainIndexIframe.jsp. 15. Lee Hwa, “Chosŏnjo Yugyo Sahoe-esŏŭi P’ungsu Tamnon” (Geomantic Discourse in the Confucian Society of the Chosŏn Dynasty), Minsokhak Yŏn’gu (Korean Journal of Folk Studies) 17 (2005): 65–66. 16. Lee, “Chosŏnjo Yugyo Sahoe-esŏŭi P’ungsu Tamnon,” 52–53. 17. “人傑地靈” means “a great man is the reflection of the energy from the land,” and this phrase first appeared in a writing by a Tang Chinese poet. 18. Qingwu and Guo Pu, Qingwujing, Jinnangjing (The Classic of the Azure Crow and the Classic of the Silk Pouch), trans. Choi Changjo, Ch’ŏng’ogyŏng, Kŭmnanggyŏng: P’ungsu Chirihag-ŭi Ch’oe’go Kyŏngjŏn (Seoul: Minŭmsa, 1993), 63. 19. Chosen Sotokufu (Government-General of Korea), Chosen-no Rinso (Groves in Korea) (Seoul: Chosen Sotokufu, 1938), 383–91. 20. “議復立遮藪文.” Yŏhŏn Sŏnsaeng Sokchip (The Continuation of the Collection of Works by Yŏhŏn), fasc. 4, “Chapchŏ” (Miscellaneous Writings): http://db.itkc.or.kr/itkcdb/ mainIndexIframe.jsp. 21. The Chinyangji (Local Gazetteer of Chinju) is a privately published work and consists of four parts. In 1622 (fourteenth year of Prince Kwanghae’s reign), Sŏng Yŏsin, a local resident of Chinju City whose pseudonym was Pusa, took the initiative to write the gazetteer and completed it ten years later in 1632 (tenth year of King Injo’s reign). However, the book remained a handwritten manuscript for a long time until a revised and enlarged version was published in a handwritten format in 1730 (sixth year of King Yŏngjo’s reign). Only in 1924 was the gazetteer published in a woodblock print format. 22. “Chinyangji,” Han’guk Minjok Munhwa Taebaekkwa Sajŏn database, http:// encykorea.aks.ac.kr. 23. No Sasin et al., Sinjŭng Tongguk Yŏji Sŭngnam (Newly Revised Edition of the Augmented Survey of the Geography of Korea), 7 vols., Minjok Munhwa Ch’ujinhoe Kojŏn Kugyŏk Ch’ongsŏ (Korean Classics Research Institute Korean Classics Translation Ser.), vols. 40–46 (Seoul: Minjok Munhwa Ch’ujinhoe, 1969–1970), fasc. 30, “Chinjumok: Hyŏngsŭng-jo” (Chinju County: Section on Landforms); and Sŏng Yŏsin, Chinyangji, “Hyŏngsŭng-jo.” 24. Yi, Koryŏ Sidae-ŭi Yŏn’gu (1980), 25. 25. No et al., Sinjŭng Tongguk Yŏji Sŭngnam, fasc. 1, “Kyŏngdo” (The Capital) 1. Kŭmdae 襟帶 (“Collar and Belt”) means that the streams flowing through a settlement cover auspicious sites as do one’s clothes, and that a big river nearby flows like one’s belt at the waist and embraces the auspicious sites. 26. This commentary is a footnote to the statement, “The largest mountain and river in Kyŏngsang Province 嶺南第一巨嶽大江,” which appears in Sŏng, Chinyangji, “Hyŏngsŭng-jo.”



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27. I have discussed the geomantic landscape of Chinju City in my article, Kim Duk Hyun, “Yŏksa Tosi Chinju-ŭi Kyŏnggwan Tokhae” (Reading the Landscape of the Historic City of Chinju), Munhwa Yŏksa Chiri (Journal of Cultural and Historical Geography) 13, no. 2 (2001): 63–80. The following quotation is from the Chinyangji, “Sanchŏn-jo” (Section on Mountains and Rivers). 28. Sŏng, Chinyangji, fasc. 4, “Kwan’gi Ch’ongnon,” opening passage. 29. Sŏng, Chinyangji, “Kwan’gi Ch’ongnon”; and the Kyŏngsang Namdoji P’yŏnch’an Wiwonhoe (Local Gazetteer of South Kyŏngsang Province Compilation Committee), ed., Kyŏngsang Namdo Yŏji Chipsŏng (A Compendium of the Geography of South Kyŏngsang Province) (Pusan: Kyŏngsang Namdoji P’yŏnch’an Wiwonhoe, 1963), 80–81. 30. The grove in Ch’ŏnjonni in Chinju, indicated as the “Namdaech’ŏn Chukchŏn 竹田” or the “Kwanjukchŏn” in the section on Chinju in Chosen-no Rinso seems to designate the Kaeyangsu. 31. Sŏng, Chinyangji, “Kwan’gi Ch’ongnon.” 32. Xu Shen, Shuowen Jiezi (Elucidations of Script and Explications of Characters) (Beijing: Beijing Lianhe Chuban Gongshe, 2014), 103. 33. Sŏng, Chinyangji, fasc. 1, “Gwanu-jo: Pongmyŏngnugi鳳鳴樓記” (Section on the Guest House: A Record on Pongmyŏng Pavilion), 29. 34. Sŏng, Chinyangji, fasc. 1, “Gwanu-jo: Pongmyŏngnugi.” 35. A poem by Pak Yung that is displayed in Ch’oksŏk Pavilion in Chinju City. 36. Chosŏn Wangjo Sillok (Annals of the Chosŏn Dynasty), 8 May, twentieth year of King Chŏngjo’s reign. 37. Katsuta Isuke, Shinshu Taikan (An Overview of Chinju), trans. and ed. the Chinju Sinmunsa (Chinju Newspaper), Chinju Taegwan (Chinju: Chinju Sinmunsa, 1995). 38. Kim Ŭiwon, Han’guk Kukt’o Kaebalsa Yŏn’gu (A Study of National Land Development in Korea) (Seoul: Taehak Tosŏ, 1982), 460–63.

9 Geomancy and Traditional Architecture during the Chosŏn Dynasty In-choul Zho

1. Introduction What are the characteristics of traditional Korean architecture? According to existing research, the characteristics or beauty of traditional Korean architecture can be summarized in the following ways: “traditional Korean architecture is characterized by beautiful roof curves”1; “The beauty of traditional Korean architecture resides in its yŏbaek 餘白, blank or unpainted spaces”2; and “traditional Korean architecture is characterized by the presence of ondol 溫突 (floor heating using heat and exhaust from the kitchen furnace) and maru 마루 (raised wooden floors).”3 However, all of the above statements are somewhat vague. They do not refer to any specific period of traditional Korean architecture, but refer generally to overall characteristics with no distinction between historical periods. Discussion of traditional Korean architecture needs to deal with various historical periods separately and distinctly. For a discourse on the architectural characteristics of a specific period, examples of architectural practices of the time need to be documented and analyzed to reveal common characteristics. Unfortunately, existing examples that can support a statement such as “the traits of traditional Korean architecture are X, Y, and Z” are very limited; except for a few types of structures built with stone for better durability, almost all surviving structures are wooden buildings constructed during the Chosŏn dynasty (1392–1910) or later.4 Although some foundation remnants of buildings from the Koryŏ dynasty (918–1392) and earlier eras have survived, discussion of the features of those buildings is inevitably limited in the absence of any surviving superstructure. Therefore, “characteristics of traditional Korean architecture” that may be appreciated in their entirety beyond their site selection5 must rely on the examples of traditional Korean architecture from the Chosŏn dynasty that still remain, because most of today’s extant architectural works are from that period. However, until now researchers tended to refrain from putting forward 163

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Chosŏn dynasty architecture as representative of traditional Korean architecture. Behind this hesitation exists a theory of “wooden structure regression” that had been proposed by Japanese scholars. Until now, research into traditional Korean architecture tended to focus on the structural composition of wooden buildings. Examined from the viewpoint of historical changes in wooden structures, traditional Korean architecture contains elements that could be misconstrued as regressing6 over the passage of time. This is because the buildings of the Chosŏn dynasty are of simpler structural composition7 than buildings of earlier eras. Nonetheless, it is unjustified to discuss traditional Korean architectural characteristics from only the viewpoint of the historical progression of wooden structures. Even at the risk of excessive categorization, we must consider various viewpoints when discussing architectural features. Characteristics of traditional Korean architecture cannot be appreciated from a single viewpoint. If the discourse thus far was biased toward the structural aspects of traditional Korean architecture, we should now discuss its various other facets. Geomancy is an indispensably important element when discussing the characteristics of traditional Korean architecture. As previous scholars have pointed out, it is important to note that geomancy itself was not unique to Korean architecture, but was a popular characteristic of architecture throughout China and the whole of East Asia. The characteristics of an object are the unique qualities that differentiate it from others. However, it is almost impossible to pick out something from architecture that is singularly unique in the world. In other words, one cannot present a style of architecture that was formed in isolation and without influence from others. The formation of culture in a given region exchanges influence with other regions, and therefore it is meaningless to look for an aspect that has not been influenced at all by other cultures. While Korean architecture has been substantially influenced by mainland China, it differs from Chinese architecture because it has developed in accordance with Korea’s natural conditions and periodic circumstances. China is a territorially vast country, and its architectural style varies from place to place, from the north to the south and from inland mountain regions to coastal areas. Korean architecture as a part of East Asian tradition demonstrates similarities to and differences from that of China and other East Asian countries. Architecture is a complex art that intrinsically reflects both technological factors and cultural aspects. The technology is the methods of forming physical spaces of certain sizes to be used as shelter by erecting columns and placing girders. Compacting the earth, forming foundations, erecting pillars, placing girders, and laying roofs are common building processes found everywhere in the world. We can find buildings of a similar structural methodology that have adopted such basic techniques all over the globe. Of course, through interactions with other regions, structural techniques progressed over time, and we now find buildings that are more structurally complex and varied. All cultures exhibit both similarities to



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and differences from the cultures they have exchanged influence with. While the technological aspects may follow the same basic intrinsic principles, the outward expressions thereof may vary. Nonetheless, from the standpoint that all buildings have columns or walls erected to support girders on top of which the roof is formed, the primal structural technology of buildings all starts from similar beginnings.8 The cultural aspects, as differentiated from the basic techniques, make architecture even more unique when utilized to symbolize power or wealth or to create art. The cultural aspects of architecture, like its technological ones, do not develop as specific types of buildings overnight. Unique architecture materializes slowly, and results from surrounding cultural influences over long periods of time. If the elements of architecture were to be forced into the categories of technology and culture, geomancy would fall under the cultural category. In other words, an important characteristic of traditional Korean architecture is that it employs the art of geomancy.9 This paper does not attempt to discuss the chronological order of traditional Korean architecture, but examines and appreciates its characteristics from a geomantic point of view, by drawing examples from architectural works currently in existence. It is difficult to discuss the characteristics of traditional Korean architecture solely based on the fact that geomantic theories were applied. Existing research10 shows that geomancy has been mentioned often during historical building endeavors in China and East Asia in general. In any case, most architectural techniques related to geomancy were imported from China. As the theories of geomancy did not entirely originate from Korea, geomancy cannot be deemed to be uniquely Korean. To argue that geomantic aspects are one of the defining characteristics of traditional Korean architecture, we must look into how the theories that originated in China have taken Korea’s natural environment and historic settings into account. As this research asserts that traditional Korean architecture has certain defining qualities, it also aims to delve into how geomancy played a role in forming these qualities and how it has been ingrained in them. The question of what form geomancy took when it was applied to Korea’s traditional architecture and what qualities it shaped is an important one.11 Even if there are differences in how the same geomantic theories were applied in Chinese architecture compared to Korean, those differences may well demonstrate the characteristics of Korean architecture. Although the application of geomancy is normally expressed in various tangible architectural characteristics, sometimes, if it was applied during site selection or used as a design concept, it would not be noticeable in the form of the building. To review the unique qualities of traditional Korean architecture and consider the many aspects mentioned above, several presuppositions are necessary. First, in reviewing the representative characteristics of traditional Korean architecture, the subjects of that review are to be actual buildings from the Chosŏn dynasty that still exist today.12 An exception is that subjects of this research may include several buildings from the Koryŏ dynasty that predate the Chosŏn period but are still extant today. The reason for limiting the period is because it is difficult

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to discuss the geomantic aspects of buildings that do not still exist. Second, the characteristics of traditional Korean architecture are not singularly unique when compared to other countries. Korean architectural styles were often introduced from neighboring countries, notably China. However, if an introduced architectural trait were modified by Koreans, it may be considered a Korean characteristic. Third, the characteristics of traditional Korean architecture can be examined from various viewpoints, and geomancy is one of them. The five characteristics of traditional Korean architecture suggested below were selected from among many features of East Asian architecture because they were deemed particularly relevant to geomancy. Scholarly opinions on the five selections presented below may vary depending on the researcher. 2. Characteristics of Traditional Korean Architecture and Geomancy Architecture Related to Mountain Ranges and Watercourses The buildings that have been chosen for the purpose of this research to represent Korea’s palace architecture are the five palaces13 built in the capital, Seoul during the Chosŏn dynasty. The most iconic of these five palaces is Kyŏngbok Palace 景 福宮. When talking about the positioning of Kyŏngbok Palace, one must take a macro look at an urban context. As Chosŏn began as a new dynasty, there were debates about the construction of the new capital.14 Geomancy was often mentioned15 in those debates. Of course, the urban planning for Seoul took other theories into account, such as those from the Kaogongji 考工記 (Record of Trades) text from the book, the Zhouli 周禮 (Rites of Zhou).16 The positioning of Chongmyo 宗廟 (Zongmiao in Chinese; building for holding chesa 祭祀 [jisi in Chinese] or memorial ceremonies to the monarch’s ancestors) on the left side of the palace and Sajiktan 社稷壇 (Shejitan in Chinese; an altar for holding chesa or tribute ceremonies to the gods of soil and crops) on the right follows the rule of chwamyo usa 左廟右社 (placing the imperial or royal ancestral shrines on the left and the altar to the gods of soil and crops on the right) from the Kaogongji.17 Chongmyo and Sajiktan are respectively located on top of the main mountain ridges on the left and right sides of Kyŏngbok Palace. As a result, the location of Kyŏngbok Palace ended up being more to the west than in the middle. That is also because of the geomantic theory that stated the palace should be situated on the central mountain ridge. Based on the belief that shengqi 生氣 (energy of fortune) flows down along mountain ridges, Kyŏngbok Palace sits on the main ridgeline of Mt. Pugak 北岳山. The main central building within Kyŏngbok Palace is Kŭnjŏngjŏn Hall 勤政殿 (the name means “a place for diligent government”), the throne hall. If one assumes that the ridge of Mt. Pugak is a dragon, the building sits at a position that corresponds to the dragon’s



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head, or ipsu 入首 in geomantic terms. From the dragon’s head to the peak of Mt. Pugak, the ridge is continuous with no breaks by water lines. The Forbidden City in Beijing, China, is often compared to Kyŏngbok Palace, located in Seoul. As Mt. Pugak is the backdrop of Seoul’s Kyŏngbok Palace, Beijing’s Forbidden City has the manmade hill Jingshan 景山 as its backdrop. Both palaces are similar in the sense that both have mountains at their back. However, while Kyŏngbok Palace and Mt. Pugak are connected fully from the palace to the peak with no breaks in the ridgeline by water, the Forbidden City’s main structure, Taihe Hall 太和殿 (Hall of Supreme Harmony), and the peak of Jingshan are actually separated by a wide moat. According to geomantic theory, mountains cannot jump over water and water cannot jump over mountains. The other buildings within Kyŏngbok Palace are distributed on the other side of the axis formed by Kŭnjŏng Hall, the throne hall, and Mt. Pugak. The setting of the main axis in positioning buildings within the palace considered mountain flows and water flows based on geomancy theories. Research to date18 suggests that China’s Forbidden City and Japan’s Nijo Castle in Kyoto adopted geomantic concepts as well. However, they differ from one another in the detailed implementation of those theories, particularly in the manner in which the water flows were treated within each palace. The water flow within Kyŏngbok Palace starts from the mountain backdrop in the north, flowing into the palace and out toward the southeast. Water flows are linear, just as mountain ridges are. Whether such a line is straight or curved determines whether it is of good or bad fortune. Straight lines are deemed bad fortune. Straight lines are compared to an arrow with murderous intent, or a limp, dead dragon. Based on this theory, the water flow within Kyŏngbok Palace was manipulated to form a meandering line flowing in winding curves. As a result, the water flow in Kyŏngbok Palace follows an S shape (figure 9.1 on page 168). Next to palaces, Korea’s second-most important traditional architecture is Buddhist temple architecture. When talking about Korea’s temple architecture, it is necessary to separate the siting from the buildings. Korea’s more prominent temples were all constructed during the Silla (57 BC–935 AD) or Koryŏ periods, but all such buildings were destroyed. In most cases, they were rebuilt on the same sites during the Chosŏn dynasty. The currently extant temple architecture in Korea is related to Buddhism, and almost all of the buildings are located in mountainous areas. Listing the examples of Korea’s temple buildings from the oldest, the first is the Kŭngnak Hall 極樂殿 (Hall of Paradise) at Pongjŏng Temple 鳳停寺 (Buddhist temple, with a name meaning “a place where a phoenix rests”); second, the Muryangsu Hall 無量壽殿 (Hall of Infinite Life) at Pusŏk Temple 浮石寺 (Buddhist temple, with a name meaning “a levitating stone”)19; and the third, the Tae’ung Hall 大雄殿 (Hall of Great Veneration) at Sudŏk Temple 修德寺 (Buddhist temple, with a name meaning “to cleanse one’s soul”).20 All three buildings belong to the Koryŏ dynasty. As Pongjŏng Temple’s

Figure 9.1. Kyŏngbok Palace site layout plan. Source: Kyŏngbok Palace Settlement Area Excavation and Investigation Report, 1995, diagram 4. Courtesy of the National Research Institute of Cultural Heritage, South Korea.



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Kŭngnak Hall is not the main building of Pongjŏng Temple, it can be excluded from discussions from a geomantic perspective. The other two buildings are the main buildings of their respective temples, and they are both located on mountain ranges. Besides the temples of the Koryŏ dynasty, those hailing from the Chosŏn dynasty, with almost no exceptions, have their main halls housing the statue of the Buddha on mountain flow lines. Regardless of the period, it has been a common principle in temple architecture to place the main building on extensions of mountain flows. During the Chosŏn dynasty, many sŏwon 書院 (shuyuan in Chinese; private Confucian academies)21 were built to teach Neo-Confucianism and provide a space for rituals that commemorated prominent scholars from the past. While both were educational facilities, hyanggyo 鄕校 (xiangxiao in Chinese; provincial Confucian schools),22 were operated by the country whereas sŏwon were run privately. Usually, both types were built not far from villages. Locations for sŏwon were particularly beautiful. Many well-known local Confucian academies or sŏwon buildings exist in North Kyŏngsang Province (the southeast region of Korea). This paper has already mentioned Buddhist temple buildings located in the remote mountains. If temple architecture mainly took mountain ridgelines into consideration, it can be said that sŏwon architecture mainly considered water flow lines while being situated close to villages. The main trend of Buddhism in Korea was Zen Buddhism, which includes a hint of Daoism, and therefore the temples found their way into the mountains and considered mountain ridgelines to be crucial. On the other hand, sŏwon were educational facilities intended for teaching, and were therefore situated along rivers for the convenience of commuting students and for superior scenery. Of course, despite the fact that the main buildings of sŏwon were built by the water, they were still commonly positioned on extensions of mountain ridgelines. From this perspective, it can be stated that burial sites, mountain temples, riverside sŏwon, villages, and towns were all respectively positioned according to their use. Even when applying the same geomantic theories, the results of siting may appear differently in each case, in accordance with the sites’ particulars, including size and purpose. Sosu Sŏwon 紹修書院 (name meaning “a place for resuscitating and honing abandoned studies”), located in Yŏngju in North Kyŏngsang Province, is the very first recognized sŏwon in Korea. It is an important sŏwon that places importance on water flow lines. The site of Sosu Sŏwon was originally occupied by a Buddhist temple called Suksu Temple 宿水寺 (meaning “a temple where water rests”). The complex was built to appease the grieving local Confucian scholars, who were being oppressed due to the failed historical movement of re-enthroning King Tanjong 端 宗 in 1455.23 It is located at a “water hole” where several streams come together to form a single water flow downstream. The red engraving of the Chinese character kyŏng 敬 (jing in Chinese; meaning “reverence”) on the rock at the entrance of the sŏwon still reflects clearly on the watercourse (figure 9.2).

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Figure 9.2. Kyŏngjabawi (boulder with the engraved character Kyŏng [敬]), city of Yŏngju-si, North Kyŏngsang Province. It is located by the water in front of Sosu-Sŏwŏn, which flows far downstream. Photograph by In-choul Zho, May 2009.

The character not only conveys neo-Confucian significance but also symbolizes the call to remember the sacred spirit of the scholars who gave their lives to keep their loyalty to the deposed king. The reflected character symbolizes the desire for such meaning to persist like the river and flow out far and wide with the flowing water. Sosu Sŏwon was built at a special location, for special reasons and with special purposes, and many aspects of it can be interpreted from a geomantic standpoint. As for other examples, homes for upper-class people had separate labor and delivery rooms for giving birth, whereas the homes of less-well-off folks usually had their master bedroom (where the wife resided) serve as the birthing room. In Korea, the location of birth was considered crucial for a baby. Therefore, the positioning of the master bedroom or the birthing room was considered carefully. This most important room was placed farthest inside the house, and was often aligned with a major mountain ridgeline. In addition to positioning the room along the extension of a ridgeline, the shape of the hill that the building group faced was considered very important. For this, people preferred that the buildings faced a hill that had the shape of p’ilbong 筆峯, the shape of an ink brush stood upright. This preference is also seen in Chinese architecture, and in Korean buildings this was evident not only in the location of birthing rooms in houses but in sŏwon buildings. In traditional Korean architecture unique layouts that consider the stationary forms of mountains and the moving forms of water are found in all types of build-



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ings, from palaces to common folks’ houses. As such a phenomenon is based on geomancy it is hard to analyze without referring to it. Architecture Forming the Center of the Microcosmos and the Universe A sacred mountain, a tree, and architecture each forms its own separate universe. How these objects secure their centrality is well described in the book by Mircea Eliade.24 One of the towns in Korea most renowned for preserving tradition is the village of Hahoe 河回 (pronounced hahwe, meaning “a river wraps around it”) located in the city of Andong in North Kyŏngsang Province. At the center of the village sits an old Zelkova serrata tree called Samsindang tree 三神堂木 (meaning “a tree imbued with the spirit of the god of life” or “a grandmotherly god”) (figure 9.3).

Figure 9.3. Zelkova serrata tree at a Samsindang, in Hahoe Village in Andong, North Kyŏngsang Province. The tree is located at the center of town. Villagers and visitors come here to make wishes on special occasions. Photograph by In-choul Zho, March 2008.

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The spot is open to everyone, and is a place where people come to pray when they are experiencing a hardship. The tree is a “universe tree,” which symbolizes the center of the town as well as of the universe. According to Eliade, installing a pillar as a means to communicate with the heavens can change an uninhabitable area of chaos into a livable cosmos. In the village of Hahoe, the Samsindang tree performs the role of a pillar for communicating with the heavens. Hahoe Village has many aliases based on its geomantic form, the most prominent one being haengju-hyŏng 行舟形, or boat-shaped, and there are many stories and taboos that have been handed down in association with that name. The Samsindang tree takes the place of the main mast of this boat, set in the ship’s center to allow it to capture the wind and sail well. The reason wells are not dug in Hahoe Village has to do with the perception that the land is boat-shaped. To dig a well would be considered equivalent to drilling a hole in the ship’s hull. The village was built on grounds made up of sandy layers deposited by the river. This ban on digging wells was put in place because when the ground conditions permit the underground water reservoirs to be interconnected, and numerous uncontrollable wells are built, there is a risk of water-borne diseases proliferating. Water is the common cause of death, both by drowning due to shipwreck and fatal illness from waterborne contagions. Hahoe Village is in such a secluded and remote location that it was preserved in its original form despite the many wars that ravaged the Korean Peninsula. The leaders and elite members of the village responsible for managing and protecting this microcosmos used many means of impressing on its people the dangers of contagious diseases spreading through the water, and the simplest and clearest way to achieve that goal was to symbolize the village grounds, surrounded by a river, as a ship. Rather than using elaborate and obscure explanations about the dangers of water-borne illnesses, using the symbolism of their land as a boat ingrained a sense of caution in the less-learned townsfolk and thus kept the village from harm. The village serves as a fine example of how a town was protected based on the geomantic theory of a boat-shaped form. Another theory that can be applied in association with an attempt to create a microcosmos with buildings in Korean architecture is the Gaia theory by James Lovelock. According to this theory, the entirety of the Earth’s environment, including its atmosphere and all living things within it, forms an enormous single organism. The hypothesis asserts that all living creatures, including men and all the environmental elements, form a part of this massive life form, similar to how many cells of different parts of a body come together to form a person’s body.25 While the Gaia theory and Korean architecture’s microcosmos theory cannot be deemed identical, there is a commonality around the idea of many microcosmoses coming together to form a larger universe. As mentioned above, there is a flow of water within the palace grounds of Kyŏngbok Palace. This flow was formed by consolidating the existing streams within the grounds. The site of Kyŏngbok Palace is dry and has a high risk of fire. By organizing the positioning of lakes and streams, sources of water were secured in case of an emergency. When the shape of the water flow is interpreted from an Asian



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philosophical viewpoint, it can be seen as S-shaped or as a symbol of t’aegŭk 太極 (or taiji in Chinese, the symbol of the origin of yin and yang). T’aegŭk is related to the book Taiji Tushuo 太極圖說 (book on the theory of taiji) by the Chinese scholar Zhou Dunyi (1017–1073; a philosopher of the Song dynasty), which also formed a basis for Neo-Confucianism, the political ideology of the Chosŏn dynasty. T’aegŭk, as explained in the Taiji Tushuo, is the source and center of everything. The design of Korea’s national flag, T’aegŭkki, is a combination of t’aegŭk and p’algwae 八卦 (bagua in Chinese, eight major symbols from the book Yijing [Classic of Changes]). At the flag’s center is t’aegŭk, which consists of yin and yang separated by an S-shaped curve. T’aegŭk also appears frequently in geomantic theory. After shaping the water flow of Kyŏngbok Palace to resemble t’aegŭk, the next task was to symbolize the changes of yin and yang through the names of the main buildings and gates. First, Kyot’ae Hall 交泰殿, with the name Kyot’ae 交泰 (grand interchange of yin and yang) being used as an equivalent of t’aegŭk, was the queen’s residence and was used for the royal couple’s consummation to produce an heir. The term Kyot’ae in this case means grand consummation, and it originated from the Yijing. The symbol with the name tae among the sixty-four symbols in the book is the one where the top symbol (the top three rows) is Kon 坤 (Kun in Chinese; all three rows are yin or negative) and the bottom symbol (the bottom three rows) is Kŏn 乾 (Qian in Chinese; all three rows are yang or positive). This building was where the king, the nation’s supreme representation of yang, and the queen, the equivalent of yin, would meet, and thus, it symbolizes t’aegŭk. The act of Kyot’ae is a symbol of t’aegŭk, where yin and yang come together, and the building is therefore the most centrally located building in the whole palace (figures 9.4 and 9.5). The entrance to Kyot’ae Hall is called Yang’ŭi Gate 兩儀門 (gate where yin and yang separates), with the name Yang’ŭi referring to the state of yangdong 陽動 (also yangdong in Chinese; yang as the subject of mobility) and ŭmjŏng 陰靜 (yinjing in Chinese; yin as the subject of stillness), which is the next stage after the transformation of t’aegŭk, according to the Taiji Tushuo.

Figure 9.4. T’aekwae (泰卦). The upper symbol is Kon-kwae (坤卦) signifying yin, and the lower symbol is Kŏn-kwae (乾卦) signifying yang. Drawn by In-choul Zho.

Figure 9.5. Yangŭimun (兩儀門) and Kyot’aejŏn (交泰殿) inside Kyŏngbok Palace. Kyot’aejŏn symbolizes the sign of Tae-kwae in Zhouyi, and Yangŭimun refers to the splitting of Tae-kwae into yin and yang. Photograph by In-choul Zho, July 2009.

Figure 9.6. Yundo (輪圖), kept at the Kyujanggak Institute of Korean Studies. The T’aegŭk symbol is shown in the center of the circle. Photograph courtesy of the Kyujanggak Institute for Korean Studies.



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The t’aegŭk symbol is also found at the center of Yundo, a type of compass used for geomantic purposes during the Chosŏn dynasty (figure 9.6). The center of Yundo, marked with t’aegŭk, is a symbol of the birth of a microcosmos. Yundo is also known as P’aech’ŏl 佩鐵 (meaning a piece of metal attached to one’s waist), and it is a geomancy practitioner’s tool used to determine the fortuity of a particular direction. If a geomancer was consulted with regard to the construction of a house, he would lay down his geomantic compass or p’aech’ŏl to determine the best orientation for the new building and, in turn, would synchronize the center of the world with the center of the p’aech’ŏl. This also signifies that the center of the universe has now been moved over to the center of the building. It is a common practice anywhere in the world to employ a compass to determine a house’s orientation, but this was particularly so during the construction processes in East Asia during the Middle Ages when geomancy was popular. However, as the forms of p’aech’ŏl and architecture differ by region, where the compass was laid and what was measured may have varied.26 In Korea, p’aech’ŏl was usually placed at the center of the courtyard or under the building’s main roof girder (called taedŭlpo 大들보) to survey the building’s orientation, and the results were recorded on the main roof girder. The recorded items were the date of the girder placement, the birth date of the house’s owner, and the building’s compass bearing. These recorded items indicate that p’aech’ŏl was used during construction to set the building’s orientation, which therefore implies that geomancy was applied to the building and the building became the center of the universe. It is also worth mentioning an example of a town’s road network symbolizing t’aegŭk. The village of Otkol 옻골 [漆谷] (name meaning “a village with many Chinese lacquer trees”) displays this unique town layout. The house at the top of the village’s hierarchy is also located at the highest spot in the village. However, it still sits substantially lower than the foothill, leaving a large free space between the house and the mountain in the back. The practice of leaving large free plots of land at the rising backdrop of villages was to prepare for times of war or epidemics. At such times, the villagers had to survive self-sufficiently for significant periods in isolation, so they had to secure the requisite farmland in anticipation, and the free foothill plots then became useful (figure 9.7 on page 176). The east stream (called Tonggye 東溪) and west stream (called Sŏgye 西溪) on either side of the village were respectively used by the men and women separately. Otkol Village’s Tonggye and Sŏgye signify the yin and yang of t’aegŭk. The road leading to Pobon Shrine 報本堂 (a shrine dedicated to the founding ancestors of the village, name meaning “to let people know of the roots”) is shaped to symbolize t’aegŭk, and effectively disperses the movement lines of people with its subtle twisted angles (figure 9.8 on page 176). The path leading to Pobon Shrine has both a symbolic quality and a functional quality, symbolizing t’aegŭk while preventing a heavy concentration of traffic in narrow alleys. The streets, buildings, Tonggye, and Sŏgye of the town of Otkol symbolize the microcosmos, yin, yang, and t’aegŭk, and were also planned based on geomantic theory.

Figure 9.7. Site plan of Otkol, located in the city of Daegu. The black lines on the left and right are the water flow lines that form the village boundary. Drawn by In-choul Zho.

Figure 9.8. The town roads of Otkol. The entrance and exit to the center of the village are distinguished, forming the t’aegŭk symbol. Drawn by In-choul Zho.



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Determining the central point of a house or a town, or constructing the palace as the center of a nation, is common architectural practices that may exist in countries around the world. However, it is important to note that Korean architecture differs from that of other cultural regions in the detailed methodology assigned to constructing the central space to the universe. In creating microcosmoses, the uniqueness of traditional Korean architecture is that people determined centrality with geomantic compasses according to geomantic theories, and marked it with the t’aegŭk symbol. Although there was a tendency to place importance in the t’aegŭk symbol in China from the Song dynasty onward, the trend never reached a level similar to that found in Korea, which displays the same symbol on its national flag. Architecture of Logic logic in the floor plans Korean architecture embodies the logic of Asian science rather than Western science, which means it is founded on yin, yang, and the wuxing 五行 (ohaeng in Korean; “five phases”) and the Yijing.27 Until now, historical Korean art, including traditional Korean architecture, was often characterized as “the technique of no technique, plan of no plan.”28 This chapter attempts to discuss the logical and rational principles that were applied from the initial process of site selection to the final construction of the house roof. The construction process of traditional Korean buildings can be broadly divided into siting and building. Traditional Korean architecture mainly consists of wooden structures. The construction process for wooden structured buildings largely consists of ground compaction, foundation stone installation, column erection, the placement of beams and girders, rafter installation, and roof tile installation. The song “Sŏngjoga” 成造歌 (an old song sung while building houses)29 describes this building process very well: Place the chuch’o 柱礎 [column foundation] according to the wuxing; erect the columns of in, ŭi, ye, chi 仁義禮智 [ren, yi, li, zhi in Chinese; terms signifying the four compass points, with each point also symbolizing kindness, justice, politeness, or wisdom]; lay the beams [called tori 道里, eight members that support the rafters] according to in, ŭi, ye, chi, p’alchomok 八條目 [divisions of the eight compass directions]; install the p’alchomok, Hetu Luoshu 河圖洛書 [Hado Naksŏ in Korean; see figures 9.9 and 9.10], taeryang 大樑 [large horizontal beam for the roof], Hetu, Luoshu . . . place the rafters in 34 directions, 64 roof tile supports and 33 pieces of yŏnmok 椽木 [connecting beams]; attach 908 pieces of puyŏn 附椽 on yŏnmok; install sanja 橵子 [thin strips that directly support the roof tiles] as 384 hyo 爻 [refers to the single horizontal stroke that composes the symbols in the Yijing]; lay the roof tiles in yin and yang; tie the 28 moves of oe [a member to which sanja is tied off and fixed] . . . 

Figure 9.9. Hetushu 河圖數 (Hadosu in Korean). One white dot and six black dots are marked in the north. The six black dots signify the number 6, meaning grand water. Drawn by In-choul Zho.

Figure 9.10. Luoshushu 洛書數 (Naksŏsu in Korean). One black dot in the north and nine black dots are marked in the south. Drawn by In-choul Zho.



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While we cannot understand all of the song’s content, the wuxing, mentioned in the first phrase, refers to the order of laying down the foundation stones by direction. In other words, the columns are erected in the order of east, south, center, west, and north. This corresponds to the sequence of the wuxing in the order of wood, fire, earth, metal, and water, and forms the circulatory system of wuxing xiangsheng 五行相生 (complementary relationships among the five elements). Through this example, one can deduce that the concepts of yin, yang, and the wuxing were a common way of thinking in the daily life of old Korea. In other examples, there are also several pieces of p’ansori 판소리 (a form of traditional Korean story-singing) based on the logical system of yin, yang, and the wuxing. The Pyŏlchubujŏn 鼈主簿傳 (Tale of a Tortoise), a work based on Korean folklore and depicting the adventures of a tortoise,30 is an exemplary piece for describing such circumstances: A rabbit is a creature composed of yin, yang, and [the] wuxing after the dawn of the world. It can cure illnesses either by suppressing the elements or complementing them. A rabbit’s liver is the best part all around, but the king is a dragon god of water and a rabbit is a sacred creature of the mountains. Mountains are of the yang energy and the waters are of the yin energy, and the liver further adds the energy of wood. Thus, it can be said that if the king obtains a fresh rabbit liver for medicine, yin and yang will merge together and provide miraculous effects (http://www. hongkgb.x-y.net). The Pyŏlchubujŏn is a story about finding medicine to cure the illness of the Dragon King 龍王 (Longwang in Chinese and Yong’wang in Korean; a king of the seas in Asian folklore). According to the theories of yin and yang, to cure the king’s ailment the energy of yang is required to boost his vitality, and the liver of a rabbit from the mountains is said to be the necessary ingredient. In the story, the tortoise (or a turtle in some cases) plays the role of a warrior sent to obtain this medicine. The tortoise corresponds to the north31 within Asian mythology’s layout of compass points,32 and also to the element of water within the wuxing. On the other hand, a live rabbit’s liver corresponds to the east, and the element of wood in the wuxing. As water boosts the energy of wood per theories of the wuxing, from the aspect of reinforcing the effects of the medicine, it is said that a tortoise or turtle representing water going after the liver of a live rabbit representing the energy of wood is very appropriate (figure 9.11 on page 180). The remedy for the dragon king’s ailment as mentioned in the Pyŏlchubujŏn follows the theory of mutual complement and suppression under the wuxing. This theory is actually used in traditional Korean medicine as a means to cure diseases. In architecture, the energy of water is employed as one of the symbolic means to suppress the energy of fire, which can be explained using the theory of mutual suppression of the wuxing. In, ŭi, ye, and ji, mentioned in “Sŏngjoga” above, refer to the four compass points33 as well as the order in which the columns are erected.

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Figure 9.11. The tortoise and the rabbit in the story Pyŏlchubujŏn. Ch’ŏngp’odae, T’ae’an’gun, South Ch’ungch’ŏng Province. The tortoise symbolizes water, and the rabbit symbolizes wood, creating the relationship of water boosting wood. Photograph courtesy of Taean-Gun County Office.

When the foundation stones are laid, the order follows the principle of the five elements producing one another, starting from the east and proceeding clockwise to end at the north. To elaborate, the east representing wood comes first, then comes the south representing fire as wood fuels fire, then comes the center representing earth as fire produces earth, followed by metal in the west as earth produces metal, with water in the north coming last with metal producing water. On the other hand, when erecting columns the rule of mutual suppression is followed to prevent the columns from falling over. The sequence starts in the east, followed by the west as metal suppresses wood, then the south follows the west, and lastly the north ends this sequence as water suppresses fire. There were also instances where the year, month, and day of the homeowner’s birth were compared to the date of laying the taedŭlpo or chongdori 宗道里 (topmost beam)34 to prevent the two dates from suppressing each other. From such examples, we find that the principle of the five elements producing one another and suppression were prominent in traditional Korean architecture. Furthermore, the measurements of columns, girders, and other building elements are all derived from the symbols of the Yijing. Consequently, “Sŏngjoga” is



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describing the process of house building based on the rules of the wuxing and the Yijing. Kyŏnghoe Pavilion 慶會樓, the largest pavilion in Kyŏngbok Palace, whose name means a place for celebratory gatherings, is a building closely related to the symbols of the Yijing. In a narrow sense, Kyŏnghoe Pavilion is connected to the adjacent ponds, and to the whole palace in a larger sense. In addition, the various structural members composing Kyŏnghoe Pavilion are ecologically interconnected, and hold both functional and symbolic significance. Kyŏnghoe Pavilion is an example of the application of a logical framework called yungnyuk yangjepŏp 六六禳除法 (a method in which the number 6 is added, subtracted, multiplied, or divided to derive the needed measurements) based on Asian philosophy. The documented historical evidence of Kyŏnghoe Pavilion’s architectural principles is the Kyŏnghoeru Chŏndo 慶會樓全圖 (Complete Diagram of Kyŏnghoe Pavilion).35 The method as described in this document is representative of the logical nature of traditional Korean architecture (figure 9.12). The number 6

Figure 9.12. The Kyŏnghoeru Chŏndo, a book explaining the architectural principles of Kyŏnghoe Pavilion. Drawing courtesy of the National Library of Korea.

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is a number in the Hetu (figure 9.9)36, and represents water among the five phases of the wuxing. The number 6 is related to the water of the ponds and is also pertinent to the prevention of fire throughout the palace. The method of yungnyuk yangjepŏp was created to construct palaces that are unique and suited to their sites while following rules laid down by the ancient noble kings. The method effectively utilizes a type of module where all measurements needed for architecture are generated using additions, subtractions, multiplications, and divisions of 6. To summarize the main components and the numbers pertinent to yungnyuk yangjepŏp from the thesis37 on Kyŏnghoe Pavilion, the number of the main chamber’s bays is 3, the number of stairs is 6, the number of girders is 9, 12 is the number of stairs and the number of the bays of the ancillary rooms, the number of the most central bay is 15, the number of stair risers is 18, the number of the outermost columns is 24, total number of bays is 36, 48 is the total number of columns, and also the number of upper-story windows on the second and third levels of the building (figures 9.13 and 9.14). Furthermore, the numbers 2, 4, 8, 16, 32, and 64 are mentioned, which are the numbers in a binary series in accordance with the book Fuxi Liushisigua Cixutu 伏羲六十四卦次序圖 (Diagram of the Order of Fuxi’s 64 Trigrams; figure 9.15).

Figure 9.13. The girders of Kyŏnghoe Pavilion. The total number of girders is 90, which is obtained by multiplying 6 by 15. Drawn by In-choul Zho.

Figure 9.14. The columns of Kyŏnghoe Pavilion. The total number of columns is 48, derived by multiplying 6 by 8. Drawn by In-choul Zho.

Figure 9.15. The Fuxi Liushisigua Cixutu. Originating from t’aegŭk, and divided from top in the order of yin and yang (2 x 1), four phases 四象 (2 x 2), and eight trigrams 八卦 (2 x 2 x 2). The number of trigrams (kwae) increases in binary notation. If it changes six times, this brings 2 to the 6th power, which makes 64 trigrams. Drawn by In-choul Zho.

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The size of traditional Korean buildings is measured in units called kan 間 or bays, which refer to both the length and floor area of the building. It was preferable to have buildings sized in odd-numbered bays rather than in even-numbered.38 Therefore, the minimum size of a house was 3 bays and increased thereafter to 5, 7, 9, etc. The largest size of a civilian house was 99 bays. The erection of a column is one of the most important works in the construction of wooden buildings. Placing a column upright is equivalent to setting the center of a house. Therefore the column that was most central to a house was called sanggidung 上기둥, or a “high column,” and a symbol of the god protecting the house39 was hung on that column. “Sŏngjoga” also includes a line that says “starting from the high column, erect them one by one, don’t think it’s hard, and erect them strong.” The orientation of a house is centered on the high column. The front, rear, left, and right directions can then be divided more finely into a total of 24 directions, and these directions are represented by 12 guardian animal spirits. Each animal is positioned, starting from due north and going around clockwise. At royal tombs or palaces, the 12 symbolic animals’ statues were carved and placed at each direction point. The 12 animals are also positioned at their corresponding compass points around Kyŏngbok Palace’s Kŭnjŏng Hall, which faces in the direction of the horse, veering slightly eastward from due south. If the positioning of each room from the center of the house is labeled a static method, the consideration of the directions relating to the entry and exit movement is a dynamic method. The basic rule of entry and exit movement lines in traditional Korean architecture is that, viewed from inside the house, one enters from the left and exits to the right. This is also related to the concept of the wuxing, with the left corresponding to wood and the right corresponding to metal. In the wuxing, the energy of wood signifies the beginning, whereas the energy of metal represents the end. The differentiation of the left and right sides also symbolizes the differentiation between commoner and nobleman, senior and junior, and man and woman. In the town of Andong 安東 (name meaning “peaceful east”) in North Kyŏngsang Province, there stands Tosan Sŏwon 陶山書院 (Tosan meaning a mountain in the shape of a porcelain), which houses the ancestral tablet of T’oegye (退溪; an alternate name meaning “small brook”) Yi Hwang 李滉 (1501–1570), a grand scholar of Neo-Confucianism. The extent of Tosan Sŏwon includes both the original teaching hall built during T’oegye’s lifetime and other sŏwon buildings subsequently added by his students. The style of the original teaching hall’s architecture reveals T’oegye’s thoughts. He picked out the site of his teaching hall, Tosan Sŏdang 陶山書堂, after long and careful consideration. Here is the principle put forward by T’oegye in relation to his teaching hall, which also includes geomantic aspects: “The site should have a constant connection to a respectable renowned scholar of the past, and should have outstanding sansu 山水 (shanshui in Chinese; ‘mountains and waters,’ meaning the natural environment) so that it is conducive for the Sarim 士林 (nobles of the Chosŏn dynasty dedicated to academics) to isolate and hone themselves.”40



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The word sansu in the quote above deserves particular attention. The word literally means “mountains and waters” and is interpreted as being a good scenic environment. While the meaning cannot be deemed identical to geomancy, the call for consideration of sansu implies that geomancy should be reflected. T’oegye also employed the symbols of the Yijing at times, when naming or placing significance on the various installations around Tosan Sŏwon.41 Wondang 圓塘 (a circular pond), built by T’oegye at Hansŏam 寒栖庵 (a small isolated hut, name meaning a place to stay during cold days), symbolizes Xiantian 先天 (Sŏnch’ŏn in Korean, the ideal world of primeval times), whereas Pangdang 方塘 (rectangular pond) formed at Kyedang 溪堂 (a house built in the valley) and Tosan symbolize Houtian 後天 (Huch’ŏn in Korean, the present reality of latter days).42 While the use of Yijing symbols and representations of concepts such as Xiantian and Houtian may be interpreted from a neo-Confucian viewpoint, they can also be understood from a geomancy viewpoint. The ideas of geomancy encompass many neo-Confucian concepts. Certain elements in traditional Korean architecture should be contemplated from a somewhat ethical perspective. When sweeping a courtyard in Korea, emphasis is placed on how one should not sweep the trash outward, but sweep and collect the debris inward to throw it out at the same time. This practice originated from the folk belief that sweeping litter outward is analogous to sweeping away the good fortune that resides within the house. With a little more thought, one realizes that this custom may reflect the collective wisdom of community life, preventing the streets from becoming littered by people sweeping their trash directly outside. It is a geomantic practice with an ethical dimension. Another consideration in relation to this concept is the position of the kitchen on the floor plan. Assuming most Koreans are right-handed, there is a deep-rooted preconception that, when scooping rice from the pot, one should scoop toward the inside of the house. In the case of most traditional commoners’ houses in Korea, the location of the kitchen according to the house plan was determined by the direction in which the pot was to be placed within the kitchen. logic in the form of architecture Roof shape is the most important part of assessing traditional Korean architecture in terms of architectural form. Ch’oe Sunu notes, “It can be said that Korea’s architecture is characterized by its eye-pleasing qualities that are enhanced when viewed from a distance.”43 The harmonious beauty of the roofs in relation to neighboring mountains is yet another defining characteristic of traditional Korean architecture. Traditional Korean architecture can be grouped into several categories based on the shape of the roof, but can be largely divided into the straw-thatched roof style (figure 9.16) and the tiled roof style (figure 9.17). Thatched roofs are found on most commoners’ houses, whereas tiled roofs are found on palaces, temples, government buildings, and the houses of noblemen. Thatched roofs are closed at the top and open at the bottom, while tiled roofs are the exact opposite. These distinct rooflines evolved from the two different types of construction materials

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and maintenance requirements. Thatched roofs can be built cheaply with little labor, but require frequent maintenance. Tiled roofs are more expensive but the roof tiles’ superior durability makes maintenance relatively easier.

Figure 9.16. The straw-thatched roof style. Nagan Ŭpsŏng 樂安邑城, North Chŏlla Province. The spherical curve is opened toward the bottom. Photograph by In-choul Zho, January 2005.

Figure 9.17. The tiled roof style. Nagan Ŭpsŏng, North Chŏlla Province. Nagan Ŭpsŏng, North Chŏlla Province. The spherical curve is open toward the top. Photograph by In-choul Zho, January 2005.



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In premodern ages, people equated a house with its occupants. Tiled-roof houses signified the power and wealth of their owners. They were built much taller than thatched-roof houses, while the common folks’ thatched-roof houses stood low as if to hide behind their fences. Owners of thatched-roof houses had neither the need to build their homes up to demonstrate their prestige nor the financial ability to do so. Common folks’ houses were also built lower than surrounding fences to protect against cold winter winds.44 For a geomantic interpretation of traditional Korean architecture, there is a need to review the floor plan shapes of the roofs as well as their elevation form. Most roofs are shaped like the characters 一 (Chinese character for the numeral 1), ㄱ, ㄴ, ㄷ, or ㅁ (first, second, third, and fifth consonant in the Korean alphabet, respectively), and their shapes were often determined by geomantic principles. Especially for houses shaped like ㄷ, the left and right wings of the buildings can be deemed to symbolize the azure dragon on the left and the white tiger on the right as mentioned in geomantic theories. The house of Kim Tongsu, located in the area of Chŏng’ŭp 井邑 (a city whose names means “a town with a well”), takes the form of two ㄷ shapes facing each other. Such a floor plan can be interpreted to have the intent of fully containing the energy of mountain ridgelines coming down from the north. According to geomantic thinking, the house sits in a terrain shaped like a centipede (figure 9.18).

Figure 9.18. Kim Tongsu house floor plan, Chŏng’ŭp, North Chŏlla Province. Two ㄷ-shaped buildings face each other. Drawn by In-choul Zho.

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At times, traditional Korean architecture formed letters by connecting several blocks of buildings. Each letter would be significant, and their meaning determined good or ill fortune. While some houses, like that belonging to Kim Tongsu, form characters by coincidence, there are cases where the buildings were deliberately formed into characters that bear auspicious meaning. A building called Imch’ŏng Pavilion 臨淸閣 (meaning “a house near a clear river”), located in Andong, North Kyŏngsang Province, is a nobleman’s house consisting of 99 bays, and the floor plan was based on the form that combines the Chinese characters 日 and 月 (meaning the sun and the moon, respectively; see figure 9.19). Some researchers interpret the combination as the character 明 (meaning “bright”), while others interpret it as 用 (meaning “use”).45 There are also buildings that follow the symbols in the Yijing rather than characters or letters. In Yangp’yŏnggun, Kang’won Province, there is a pavilion called T’aekp’ung Pavilion 澤風堂 (meaning “a house of lakes and wind”). The building’s name was taken from the twenty-eighth symbol of the first book of the Yijing (figure 9.20). In traditional Korean architecture, pavilions were special buildings that could only be afforded by those in the noble class who were financially well off. They served as both a place to stay for the noble scholars and as a place for networking and rest.

Figure 9.19. Floor plan of Imch’ŏnggak’s Anch’ae or the interior quarters. Source: Field Measurements of Imch’ŏnggak, p. 76, by the Cultural Heritage Administration of Korea, 2002.



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T’aekp’ung Pavilion was built by the scholar Yi Sik 李植 (1584–1647). To pick a site for the burial grounds for his ancestors and also his home, he had a sich’ojŏm 蓍草占 (a fortune-telling session using the symbols of the Yijing)46 performed, the outcome of which was the T’aekp’ung 澤風 symbol. Yi Sik decided to value the meaning of this outcome for the rest of his life and shaped the pavilion and its surroundings accordingly. The building’s form was taken from the shape of the symbol. The T’aekp’ung symbol is one where the upper symbol (the top three strokes) is T’aegwae (☱) and the lower symbol (the bottom three strokes) is Son’gwae 巽卦 (Xungua in Chinese; ☴) (figure 9.20). The meaning of the symbol is “One is not afraid even when standing alone . . . and nothing weighs heavily on the mind.” Yi Sik went to Yangp’yŏng 楊平 (meaning a place with willow trees; it was called Chip’yŏng Paegakol in the past) and built T’aekp’ung Pavilion. Then he gave himself an alternative name, T’aektang, which was an abbreviated form of T’aekp’ungdang. The building is shaped like a tower, standing at about 16 feet high. The bay in the middle is made into a room. Earth is piled up along the columns, and then about halfway up, heated floor was laid and windows placed. Then four columns were placed outside the walls, and railings and flooring were installed between them. . . . With no obstructions, one can see far out in all directions. In the ground below the floor, there used to be a sunken wet patch. Groundwater was drawn there to form a square pond, and a willow tree was planted on a small mound of earth that existed. Filling the central interior of the building and leaving the exterior empty, as well as planting of a tree in the middle of the pond were all intended to follow the image of T’aekp’ung Taegwa [a phrase meaning that things in general are not strained, like winds over a lake]. Inside the room, the

Figure 9.20. The symbol of T’aekp’ungdaegwa. Only the very top and bottom strokes are yin, and the four strokes in between are all yang. Drawn by In-choul Zho.

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walls displayed charts of the 64 symbols of the Yijing and their explanations. . . . The system of the building was mainly humble and simple, with the top covered with tree bark and trimmed with an axe only.47 The number 16, which was adopted as the height of the building, is the sum of 10 and 6. The number 10 is the large number at the center of the Hetu (figure 9.9), and 6 is the large number on the outer part of North. The shape of the T’aekp’ung symbol can be interpreted based on the numerical symbols of the Hetu. The middle part of the T’aekp’ung symbol is all of the yang energy, which can be seen as the number 10 as a whole, and the top and the bottom strokes that surround the symbols in the center are yin and therefore the number 6. Thus, the sum of the total becomes 16. Even the cross-section of T’aekp’ung Pavilion (figure 9.21) may be construed as the top and the bottom symbolizing yin and the middle symbolizing yang. T’aekp’ung Pavilion was probably built as a tower in order to secure an impressive view, but it is also likely that it was built as an expression of the T’aekp’ung symbol. The current roof of T’aekp’ung Pavilion is covered with earthen tiles (figure 9.21). However, according to literature, it is assumed that the original roof of the building was a wooden tile roof with a shallow slope. The use of earthen or wooden tiles for the roof is also in line with the image of the yin stroke at the top of the T’aekp’ung symbol, with the stroke separated in the middle (figure 9.21).

Figure 9.21. T’aekp’ungdang, located in Yangpyŏng-gun, Kyŏnggi Province. Shaped after the symbol of T’aekp’ungdaegwa. The lower structure is separated from the ground, and the upper structure is topped with roof tiles. Photograph by In-choul Zho, April 2003.



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Furthermore, shaping the pond’s edges to form a square and placing a circular mound of earth in the center are an expression of ch’ŏnwon chibang 天圓地方 (tianyuan difang in Chinese), a phrase in Asian philosophy meaning “the sky is round and the earth is square.” The upper part of the T’aekp’ung symbol is t’aek (☱), the direction being west, which corresponds to the pond and to metal in the five-elements theory. The lower part of the symbol (☴) corresponds to the direction of southeast that represents the element of wind, and to a type of wood element 小木 (small wood) according to the five-elements theory in the Yijing (see figure 9.22). Therefore, it can be said that the T’aekp’ung symbol refers to the form of the pond covering the tree.48 As if to support these points, T’aektang reveals in his literary compilation, “Filling the central interior of the building and leaving the exterior empty, as well as the planting of a tree in the middle of the pond, were all intended to follow the image of T’aekp’ung Taegwa.”

Figure 9.22. Wénwáng bāguà (文王八卦).The wuxing and natural objects are assigned to the Munwang P’algwae. Mu 木 and feng 風 in the wuxing are applied to xùnguà (巽卦, ☴) in the southeast. Drawn by In-choul Zho.

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It is true that, to date, Korea’s architecture has been deemed to be ambiguous and devoid of logic when compared to the wooden architecture of the West or of other East Asian countries such as China and Japan. Such opinions originate from the failure to observe the hidden logic behind Korea’s traditional architecture. As discussed above, geomancy is indispensable to understanding the hidden logic behind Korean architecture. architecture with hierarchy Among geomantic theories there are many that place importance on hierarchy. Hierarchy is something heavily emphasized in Neo-Confucianism, and is detailed by what is called chongpŏp 宗法, or the rule of differentiating between the noble and the meek. Hierarchy can be explained with the rule of chang’yu yusŏ 長幼 有 序 (zhangyou youxu in Chinese; the order of the elders and juniors), which is one of the five Confucian codes of social ethics as asserted by the Chinese Confucian scholar Mencius. Although this way of thinking is significantly less dominant in modern-day Korea, the philosophy still remains pervasive in society. According to geomantic principles, the arrangement of things in a hierarchical order is deemed auspicious, and failure to do so is considered inauspicious. As the Chosŏn dynasty adopted Neo-Confucianism as its founding political ideology, hierarchy and order were richly expressed in its architecture. “Blessed and rich grounds are warm and generous, not confined but encompassed by the hills and waters all around, fitting the law of owner and guest.49 A location where energies of the ground complement each other does not deviate from the mountains’ original source, protects the site where a home will be built from front and back, and commands a host mountain and a guest mountain” (from the Qingwujing, a classical geomantic text).50 Most traditional buildings in East Asia were wooden structures. China, Japan, and Korea each differ in the methods employed to form roofs using wooden elements. In particular, the wooden structure of traditional Korean architecture emphasizes hierarchy inherently in the structure itself. The horizontal member that supports yongmaru 龍마루, the topmost part of the roof, is called chongdori, and with the lower horizontal members called chungdori 中道里 (supporting the roof rafters halfway between the top and the edge of the roof), and ch’ŏmadori 처마道里 (supporting the rafters at the edge of the roof), the hierarchy is clearly defined. Furthermore, the structural elements laid perpendicular to these horizontal members are also differentiated in their hierarchy, named chongbo 宗樑, taedŭlpo, and t’oekan 退間 (a section added to the main member). There are various systems of wooden structures in Chinese architecture, with the ch’ŏndu system 穿斗式 (chuandou in Chinese; where the sizes of columns, girders, and other structural members are almost uniform) and the taeryang system 大樑式 (daliang in Chinese; a structure that includes a main horizontal girder) being the prominently comparable ones. However, even when using the same structural system, differences in detail can be found between the Chinese and Korean versions of taeryang-system structures. The



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wooden structures of the Chosŏn dynasty employ a system that includes chongdori (the topmost horizontal member) and chongnyang 宗樑 (the topmost horizontal member spanning between columns), with a particular emphasis on hierarchy. The neo-Confucian ideology of stressing ancestry and family lineage was a mode of thinking established in China. However, while Neo-Confucianism was not adopted as a ruling political ideology in China for a long period, Korea strictly adhered to Neo-Confucianism and the concept of chojong 祖宗 (meaning ancestry and lineage, referring to the importance of hierarchy and orderliness) over an extensive period, to the extent that Korea was even called “Little China,” at least from a neo-Confucian standpoint. Even in geomancy, there are principles regarding the hierarchical order of mountain ranges, and Korea has a tendency to place particular importance on them.51 This is also assumed to be attributable to the effects of NeoConfucianism. Hierarchy in the family lineage, mountain ridgelines, and building structure are all deemed to have been affected by Neo-Confucianism, and it can be said that hierarchy is a characteristic of Korea’s architecture, originating from China but enhanced further in Korea (figure 9.23). Hae’in Temple (home of the “Eighty-Thousand Tripitaka,” whose name means reflections on the waters of the sea) is categorized as having the geomantic landscape of a sailing boat and is a particularly renowned Buddhist temple in Korea. The temple’s layout as a whole forms the shape of a boat, which is called haengju-hyŏng in geomantic terminology (figure 9.24). This paper aims to review the relationships between the buildings from a geomantic standpoint looking at the temple’s layout plan. Hae’in Temple is located on Mt. Kaya in Hapch’ŏn’gun 陜川郡 (a county

Figure 9.23. Cross section of Yŏngsanjŏn in the Geo-Jo-Am annex of the temple Ŭnhyesa. An example demonstrating the cross-sectional structural composition of Korean traditional architecture, consisting of Chongdori, Chungdori, and Ch’ŏmadori. It is related to the tree pattern of Neo-Confucianism that places importance on hierarchy. Located in Yŏngchŏn-si, North Kyŏngsang Province. Drawn by In-choul Zho.

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Figure 9.24. Guide map of Haeinsa (海印寺), located in Hapcheon-gun, South Kyŏngsang Province. The rectangular roof shown in the far back is Changgyŏngp’anjŏn (②), and the tall building in the center is Taejŏkkwangjŏn (①). Photograph by In-choul Zho, August 2011.

whose name means “a place with a narrow brook”), South Kyŏngsang Province. The temple was initially built during the Silla dynasty, and was subsequently expanded over both the Koryŏ and Chosŏn dynasties till it arrived at its current form. The temple’s location is known as one of the few places in Korea where catastrophe has not struck.52 The fact that it has preserved the 80,000 wooden printing tablets engraved during the Koryŏ dynasty without significant trouble is a testament to the safety of Hae’in Temple’s location. The geomantic significance of Hae’in Temple can be largely condensed into three points. First is the temple’s boat-shaped form, second is its safety against fire, and third is the hierarchy exhibited within its grounds. First, for Hae’in Temple to be deemed boat-shaped, several prerequisite ancillary facilities are required. To fulfill this requirement, Hae’in Temple has the Sumi Chŏngsangt’ap 須彌頂上塔 (meaning the pagoda at the peak of Mt. Sumeru) that acts as the boat’s mast. Since Hae’in Temple is a Buddhist temple with numerous wooden buildings, and is also the repository safeguarding the wooden printing blocks of important Buddhist sutras, taking various measures against fire hazard is of paramount importance. The mountain on the back of Hae’in Temple and the opposing mountain in the south are both categorized as being fire-shaped from a geomantic standpoint, which means that the mountains hold the energy of fire. First, assuming that the energy



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of the mountains could pose a fire risk, the buildings’ orientations were adjusted accordingly.53 Then, every year, shamanic ceremonies are held to suppress the fire energy of the mountains. The shamanic ceremony entails burying salt at many locations around the temple grounds as well as at the peak of the mountain in the south on the Double Fifth Festival 端午節54 (May 5 per the Gregorian calendar). The salt used in this ceremony intends to have the energy of metal with water absorbed per the Yin-Yang and the Five Elements theory (wuxing). Accordingly, the energy of water is strongly brought forth—the complementary relationship of the metal element boosts the water element, according to the principle of five elements producing one another. The energy of fire is suppressed through the water element, according to the principle of the five elements destroying one another. The next issue in the case of Hae’in Temple was how to establish the hierarchy between Changgyŏngp’an Hall, where the 80,000 wooden Tripitaka Koreana 八萬 大藏經 tablets are stored, and Taejŏkkwang Hall (meaning a grand hall of quiet light), where the main statue of the Buddha sits. Since Hae’in Temple is a Buddhist temple, in principle, Taejŏkkwang Hall should be the building ranked at the top. However, Changgyŏngp’an Hall, which houses the tripitaka tablets, is also an important building and its size exceeds that of the main hall (Taejŏkkwang Hall). Changgyŏngp’an Hall is bigger than the main hall, and interrupts the hierarchical order of the entire temple in terms of the temple building size. The problem of hierarchy and handling the oversized building for the importance of its assigned function was resolved by using the symbolism of the boat-shaped temple site. If one looks at the whole temple as a single ship, the entity controlling the ship is clearly the main hall, which is located at the center. The vessel called the Hae’in Temple preserves and transports the treasure of 80,000 tripitaka tablets. Continuing the ship analogy, the main hall, which serves as the control room, is positioned where the view is unobstructed, while the sutra woodblock storage building is set safely backward, for it is carrying the valuable cargo of 80,000 tripitaka tablets. It is hard to clearly declare which building holds the higher position in the hierarchy, but as Taejŏkkwang Hall takes up the center of the temple grounds and Changgyŏngp’an Hall assumes the safer rear quarters, the former then becomes the captain housing the main manifestation of the Buddha and the latter becomes the cargo and passenger. In Hae’in Temple, the host Taejŏkkwang Hall and the guest Changgyŏngp’an Hall harmonize together while maintaining their prominence in the hierarchy of buildings. If Hae’in Temple is deemed boat-shaped, the large building of Changgyŏngp’an Hall is the cargo on the ship and therefore does not appear out of place. By symbolizing the temple as a boat full of cargo, several conflicts were resolved without harming the prestige and hierarchy of the Buddhist temple. Although the site is located in the remote mountains, it is no coincidence that the temple’s name is Hae’in Temple, meaning “reflections on the ocean,”55 corresponding to its symbolism. Hoe’am Temple 檜巖寺 is located on Mt. Ch’ŏnbo 天寶山 (the name means “a treasure bestowed by heaven”) in Yangju 楊州 (the name means “a wide plain with

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a lot of willow trees”), Kyŏnggi Province. Hweam Temple56 was built during the Koryŏ dynasty, and the geomantic account of this temple starts with its siting. It is said that the temple was built by the Zen Master Naong 懶翁禪師,57 who was instructed by the Zen Master Zhikong 指空禪師 (also known as Dhyanabhadra),58 a Chinese monk originally from India, to establish a new temple at a place where two watercourses run between three mountain ridges. Hoe’am Temple sits in a unique terrain shaped like a half-moon (figure 9.25). In geomancy, the half-moon is deemed more auspicious than the full moon. This is because a half moon has the potential to grow, and it also symbolizes an auspicious shape of land with wings on the left and right.

Figure 9.25. The Hweam-Sa (회암사) temple and its surrounding terrain. Located in Yangjusi, Kyŏnggi Province. The mountains near Hweamsa form a ridgeline shaped like a halfmoon. Drawn by In-choul Zho.



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Looking at the temple from a narrower angle, the site of Hoe’am Temple is very small compared to the scale of the buildings, with the hills flanking the temple acting as a fence that directly delineates the temple grounds. The temple maintained deep connections with royal families from the late Koryŏ dynasty to the early Chosŏn dynasty. In addition to the religious buildings needed for its function as a Buddhist temple, it also kept a residence for the king. The main challenges in designing Hoe’am Temple were how to treat the king’s residence and the waters inside the temple grounds. The first problem was solved by placing the hall housing the statue of the Buddha at the center of the temple while placing the king’s residence at the highest point in the grounds in the rear. By splitting the hierarchical superiority between the center and the highest spot, Hoe’am Temple resolved the potential conflict that could have existed between the two structures (figure 9.26). Hoe’am Temple is located at a site where two

Figure 9.26. Hweam-Sa site layout plan. The building at the far rear along the vertical axis is the residence where the king stayed during his visits, and the largest building along the same vertical axis is Pogwangjŏn (보광전). Drawn by In-choul Zho.

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­ atercourses run between three hills, and as the temple sits along the ridge of the w middle mountain, it became necessary to manage the water flowing out of the valleys on either side. The water flowing from the deep valley on the left was collected by the temple for personal use. Next to a pagoda holding the sari relic of a nameless monk, there is a large water box made of stone that collects this water. Water overflowing from this water box then flows into the temple grounds and ultimately collects in a lake formed outside the tanggan chiju 幢竿支柱 (dhvaja-stambha), or the pillar marking the entrance of the temple.59 The layout of both the Hoe’am Temple and the Hae’in Temple considers the flow lines of the mountain ranges and watercourses as a reflection of many elements of geomantic philosophy. From an architectural standpoint, both temples exhibit very unique forms. Hae’in Temple includes a building storing the tripitaka tablets, and Hoe’am Temple includes a building serving as the king’s residence. Both are examples of structures that are larger in scale or higher in importance as compared to the building housing the main statue of the Buddha. One of these buildings takes up the center of its microcosmos, whereas the other assumes the high spot along the mountain ridgeline. Through the distinguished styles of these traditional temples, this paper has reviewed how the concept of hierarchy has influenced their formation in addition to Buddhist principles. A village is a collection of common folks’ homes. In addition to the houses that serve the main function of forming a village, there are many other facilities that have other uses. Villages usually include a small religious installation as an ancillary facility where people can pray for the village’s peace and prosperity. Such installations are usually positioned near the village entrance60 or on a high hill behind the village. Those placed near the village entrance hold relatively low prominence. The location of such religious facilities affects the layout of the entire village in many ways. Typically, the most holy place of a village takes the highest or the most central spot in the village. Roads are also an important element that affects the layout of village buildings. The village road pattern initially forms the village morphology, but the road pattern is influenced by the shape of the mountain ranges and watercourses near the village. Generally, Korean villages have hills behind and fields in front. This configuration is called paesan imsu 背山臨水, meaning that a mountain is on the back and the waters are in the front. In such cases, the village roads rise up along the valleys in the form of tree branches splitting off into many smaller branches. The most exemplary case of the village roads taking the shape of tree branches is the village of Yangdong Village (figure 9.27) located in the Kyŏngju area. Another example is the Otkol Village in Taegu. In contrast, there are villages whose road networks are shaped like spider webs, with the Hahoe Village in Andong being a prime example. In a village with a tree-shaped road network, the higher one goes, the higher the houses are in the hierarchy. On the other hand, if a village’s roads form the shape of a spider web, the buildings ranking higher in the hierarchy are found closer to the center. In the case of Yangdong Village, the important houses are each placed along the ridgelines like fruits on a tree.61 The village’s characteristic layout was formed as a result of a competition between two in-law families62 who were



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Figure 9.27. Layout plan of Yangdong Village in Kyŏngju. Drawn by Chŏn Ponghŭi.

trying to claim a superior position over each other, similar to two players of paduk 바둑 (the Korean name for the board game more commonly known by its Japanese name, go 碁). On the contrary, in the case of Hahoe village, the shape was formed by the brothers of the Ryu family of the P’ungsan clan,63 who each took turns to claim their sites (figure 9.28).64

Figure 9.28. Layout plan of Hahoe Village in Andong. Drawn by In-choul Zho.

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Hierarchical order in architecture is an important part of architectural expression and is found not just in Korea but in other cultures. In traditional Korean architecture, the means of expressing hierarchy correlates in many ways with theories of geomancy. This is a clear characteristic of traditional Korean architecture. ecological architecture founded on mythological stories Architecture is sometimes considered a vessel containing human life, as it carries many stories related to people’s lives. Therefore, the stories ingrained in traditional Korean architecture need to be examined with particular care to point out its cultural characteristics. In the case of traditional Korean architecture, many stories complement the shortcomings of the environment through the structures’ symbolism, especially in relation to geomancy and the buildings’ surroundings. Viewing the environment as a live object is called hyŏnggungnon 形局論, or the “theory of shapes” (comparing the shape of the land with animals, people, or objects). The geomantic theory of shapes determines the characteristics of environmental objects that are symbolized by certain manifestations of animals or people. As the objects thus symbolized are live beings, they tend to strive toward certain goals, and they are deemed to desire the various tools and circumstances befitting those goals. Architecture is then used in such environments as a device to complete the missing part of the overall shape. Although buildings are built to provide shelter, their form is determined and realized to fulfill the desire of the symbolized land and the mountains. In particular, during the design and construction process, consideration is given to the shape of the mountain as the main object. For example, if the shape is ongnyŏ tanjang-hyŏng 玉女端粧形, the shape of a noblewoman putting on cosmetics, architecture provides the mirror, comb, and vanity stand necessary for Ongnyŏ Peak 玉女峯, or the peak symbolizing the noblewoman, to decorate herself (figure 9.29). While the buildings are built due to human needs and from a human viewpoint, they are also built with maximum consideration for the position of the mountains and the surrounding environment. Although this is an act of using architecture to complete stories that are incomplete, ultimately it is also an attitude that cares about the natural environment and views architecture as an ecological part of the surroundings. Simultaneously, people achieve a sense of complete identity with nature through architecture rather than feeling segregated from it. A prime example for explaining the geomantic theory of shapes is Tonghwa Temple (the name means “the blossoming of paulownia trees”), located on Mt. P’algong in Taegu. Tonghwa Temple is one of the most prominent Buddhist temples in Korea, and its geomantic shape is ponghwang p’oran-hyŏng 鳳凰抱卵形, or the shape of a phoenix brooding its eggs. During the design and construction of this temple, many measures were put in place so that the phoenix, a sign of good fortune, would stay rather than fly away. In particular, the temple provided the phoenix with a place to rest and feed, and also gave the phoenix something to do to keep itself entertained. Pongsŏ Pavilion, a pavilion in Tonghwa Temple,

Figure 9.29. Miindanjanghyŏng (美人端粧形) Sando, or drawing of mountains forming the shape of a beautiful woman putting on makeup. Miin and Oknyŏ are both terms that mean noblewoman. For the lady to beautify herself, many tools are required, such as a comb, vanity stand, and mirror. Source: Kamyŏdo (Diagram of Geomancy), courtesy of the National Library of Korea.

Figure 9.30. Pongsŏ-ru in the temple Tonghwasa, located in the Pal-Kong-San mountain city of Daegu. There is a boulder in front of Pongsŏ-ru, and the phoenix eggs made of granite are laid on top. Photograph by In-choul Zho, October 2007.



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is a nesting place of a phoenix as its name signifies (figure 9.30). Legends say that phoenixes nest on paulownia trees and eat the fruits of bamboo trees. Hence, based on such stories, the trees of the same species were planted around the temple. In addition, three pieces of granite, shaped to symbolize a phoenix’s eggs, were placed in front of Pongsŏ Pavilion. This provided the phoenix with a task in addition to a place to stay and food to eat. With the eggs in place, the story of a phoenix nursing its offspring was completed. On the other hand, thanks to the forest of paulownia and bamboo trees located around Tonghwa Temple, many types of birds can be seen flocking around Pongsŏ Pavilion. This is both a completion of a story based on the geomantic theory of shapes, and a realization of ecological architecture (figure 9.31). The house named Kim Dong-Su house, located in Chŏng’ŭp, North Chŏlla Province, is known to sit on a site that is ogong-hyŏng 蜈蚣形, or centipede-shaped. The mountain behind the house symbolizes a centipede, whereas the mountain in front was named Tokkye Peak because the peak resembled a rooster (figure 9.32 on page 204). Since centipedes are food for roosters, they cannot move without the risk of being eaten. Therefore, by shaping the floor plan of the house like interlocking ㄷ letters, the energy of the centipede coming into the house was contained. On the other hand, a forest was planted around the house and worm-shaped lakes

Figure 9.31. Phoenix eggs, laid on top of the boulder in front of Pongsŏ-ru (鳳棲樓). A bamboo nest has been built to prevent the eggs from falling off. Photograph by In-choul Zho, October 2007.

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Figure 9.32. Tokkyebong (獨鷄峯), or “solitary rooster peak.” The peak visible beyond the roof is Tokkyebong, standing watch against the centipede. Photograph by In-choul Zho, May 2007.

were dug (figure 9.33). The lakes symbolize food for the centipede while the forest provides an appropriately moist resting place for it. Hae’in Temple, with its boat shape mentioned earlier, is another example that may be explained in a similar way.

Figure 9.33. The pond formed in front of the Kim Dong-Su house in the shape of worms to serve as food for the centipede. Photograph by In-choul Zho, May 2007.



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The majority of traditional Korean buildings’ structures are built with wood. However, on closer inspection one finds that the five natural materials of wood, fire, earth, metal, and water were equally well used. Among the people of the traditional era, there existed a way of thinking called ojae pyŏng’yong 五材竝用,65 which means the use of five elements of the wuxing together when choosing building materials. Nonetheless, because the main material of traditional buildings was wood, they were susceptible to fire damage. Accordingly, people employed various fire-prevention measures, which included practical preparation on the one hand, and also adopted geomantic measures to prevent fire by using psychological, symbolic, and shamanic means. In geomantic terminology, suppressing a strong, harmful energy such as fire is called apsŭng 壓勝 (to suppress and overcome). The means of suppressing and overcoming ultimately refers to the mutual enhancement and mutual suppression per the theory of the wuxing. Fire is caused by the energy of heat, and to suppress it, the energy of water must be strengthened, which is achieved through the energy of metal. These phenomena are explained using the wuxing theory of mutual suppression, Sugŭk’wa 水克火 (water suppressing fire), and the theory of mutual enhancement, Kŭmsaengsu 金生水 (metal boosting water).

Figure 9.34. Sujaŭnjŏn (水字錢), or silver coin engraved with the character for water, from Kyŏngbok Palace. Source: Kŭnjŏngjŏn Haech’e Chosa-wa Suri Pogosŏ (Report on the Deconstruction and Repairs and Field Measurements of Kŭnjŏng Pavilion) (Seoul: Cultural Heritage Administration, 2003), 84.

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On the roof of Kŭnjŏng Hall, the throne hall of Kyŏngbok Palace, silver coins called sucha ŭnjŏn were found. This is a representative example of employing the five elements (wuxing) theory for fire prevention (figure 9.34). Silver in the five elements theory represents the energy of metal, because it is believed that the metal element invigorates the water element in the principle of the five elements producing one another. Thus, silver coins were used for such purpose, and their weight of 2 chŏn 錢 (3.75 g per chŏn) and 5 p’un (分; 0.375 g per p’un) was to derive the number 7, which represents the energy of metal according to the numbers of the Luoshu. In addition, the character for water 水 was written six times and the coins were hexagon-shaped because the number 6 represents a large body of water.66 As a result, while sucha ŭnjŏn are just small coins, they symbolize the substantial energies of metal and water. The desire contained in those coins was to suppress the energy of fire and maximize the energy of water using the wuxing theory of mutual enhancement and suppression, trying to protect the wooden building from fire. Timber used for constructing structurally important parts of a building in traditional architecture was not only expensive but also hard to acquire. Therefore, the handling of such construction material required particular caution. For example, when installing wooden pillars, it was emphasized that the base of the trunk goes on the bottom, as if one were planting a live tree in the ground. The book Imwon Kyŏngjeji 林園經濟志 (Writings on Rural Life Management) mentions that the use of timber upside down (unlike a standing tree with the roots toward the ground) will cause bad happenings to the owner of the building.67 Also, the basic rule was that large trees were used for large members and small trees were used for smaller members. It was prohibited to split a large tree, which could be used for large members, into many smaller members. Sometimes, due to difficulties in obtaining new materials, materials previously used for another building were recycled for structural members in another. In those cases, the recycled member was used after writing the word Mogwang 木王 (meaning “the king of wood”) on it (figure 9.35). This practice originated from the belief that a used wooden member came with a ghost attached to it. By writing this word the spirit attached would be driven away, and the word also served as a prayer that the house being built with the recycled member would stand strong for a long time. Determining the right use of a given timber based on its size, prohibiting the unnecessary waste of large timber by reusing large remnants for other suitable occasions, and recycling used materials reflects a common spirit with the ecological and sustainable architecture that is promoted today. There were also cases where symbols of specific animals were used instead of Chinese characters. The creatures often used were dragons, turtles, and centipedes. Dragons are imaginary creatures that live in water and are deemed to control the energy of water or have the ability to suppress fire hazards. Turtles mainly symbolize longevity, and also correspond to the Black Tortoise 玄武 (Hyŏnmu in Korean and Xuanwu in Chinese), a mystic turtle-like creature, one of the Sasinsa 四神砂, or four guardians protecting the four points of the compass. Since the Black Tortoise



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Figure 9.35. Chinese characters Mogwang 木王 or “wood king.” Located in Sangju, North Kyŏngsang Province. This is the column of Ojakdang (悟昨堂), with the above characters written on it. Photograph by In-choul Zho, October 2004.

is positioned in the north, it also symbolizes the energy of water per the wuxing. Turtles were frequently engraved onto door handles. Centipedes live in wet places, so their images were believed to ward off fire, and they also symbolized fertility, due to their many legs. Other animals employed for their geomantic significance included stone lions and bats. Stone lions played the role of guardians protecting entrances. The Chinese character for a bat has the same pronunciation as the character for good fortune in Korean, and for this reason, bats were often adopted as a symbol of good fortune, and were often engraved onto chairs, tables, and other furniture (figures 9.36–38 on pages 208–209). The role of boundary walls was very important in traditional Korean houses. Boundary walls contain the beneficial energy within the house complex and repel the

Figure 9.36. A metal figure in the shape of a centipede. Yanggindang in Hahoe Village, City of Andong. It symbolizes the wish for one’s descendants to flourish. Photograph by In-choul Zho, March 2008.

Figure 9.37. Turtle-shaped column footing, found in Kŏch’ang, South Kyŏngsang Province. This piece is the foundation supporting the column of the main entrance gate to the Im family house. Photograph by In-choul Zho, July 2004.



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Figure 9.38. Turtle-shaped door handle, found in Nogudang, located in Haenam, South Chŏlla Province. Photograph by In-choul Zho, April 2008.

harmful energy outside the boundary walls. Boundary walls also work together with the buildings to rectify imbalances caused by the terrain. If either the Azure Dragon on the left or the White Tiger on the right was weak from a geomantic standpoint, walls were installed as reinforcement. While walls provide defense against burglars, they also complete the geomantic shape of chwach’ŏngnyong 左靑龍 (Azure Dragon guarding the left) and ubaekho 右白虎 (White Tiger guarding the right). Boundary walls also serve to frame the outside view. Walls of a specific height were installed in a specific direction not only to block out the portions of view that one did not wish to see, but also worked as a device of ch’agyŏng 借景 (jiejing in Chinese; meaning “borrowing the scenery”) to bring the good view closer. Furthermore, the classic geomancy text Huangdi Zhaijing 黃帝宅經 (Yellow Emperor’s Class of Houses) states that it is auspicious to have a fully encompassing boundary wall.68 The form of boundary walls tended to be considered very important. Boundary walls in traditional Korean architecture were formed naturally along the terrain. Particularly, even when a wall would naturally make a sharp bend, they were rounded into curves in many cases. Such characteristics of form are derived partly from the materials used and the unshaped terrain, but they also reflect the desire to avoid ch’ungsal 衝殺 (chongsha in Chinese; bad energy emanating from sharp objects) as mentioned in geomancy. Both in China and Korea, soft curved forms were preferred to clean-cut angles based on the geomantic logic that exposed sharp edges gave ch’ungsal. Particularly in Korea’s traditional architecture, walls along crossroads were curved to avoid ch’ungsal. One could say that this is a ­reflection of social ethics that gave consideration to those traveling through the alleys (figures 9.39–40 on page 210).

Figure 9.39. Nag’anŭpsŏng, North Chŏlla Province. The form of nearly all the roofs and walls is curved. Photograph by In-choul Zho, January 2005.

Figure 9.40. Curved boundary wall. There are no sharp corners. Han’gaemaŭl Sŏngju-gun, North Kyŏngsang Province. Photograph by In-choul Zho, July 2003.



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A feature of traditional Korean architecture includes a short wall that separates the space for men and women called nae’oebyŏk 內外壁, which is comparable to a zhaobi 照壁 (a short wall built opposite the main entrance, on the other side of the street) in Chinese architecture. China’s zhaobi can often be found in the siheyuan-style 四合院式 (a closed-off style frequently seen in Beijing) houses, generally installed outside, opposite the main entrance, on the other side of the street in front. On the other hand, Korea’s nae’oebyŏk were installed in many cases to hide the wife’s quarters, or anch’ae, from within the house. The function of both walls was to defend against ch’ungsal, as mentioned in geomancy (figure 9.41 below and figure 9-42 on page 212).

Figure 9.41. Naewebyŏk or “interior-exterior wall,” found in the Omiri house in Andong, North Kyŏngsang Province. The wall has been erected in front of the entrance gate to the Anch’ae (inner quarters). Photograph by In-choul Zho, July 2003.

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Figure 9.42. Chobyŏk, Wang Family Courtyard (王家大院), China. The wall has been erected outside the courtyard main entrance gate. Photograph by In-choul Zho, July 2004.

The main gate is where both ill and auspicious energy flow in and out. Therefore, main gates were installed based on geomancy theories. Generally it was preferable to avoid building main gates at the end of a cul-de-sac or the intersection of a T-shaped junction, because such locations were considered kwanyŏk ppaegi 과녁배기(a target board), or a location that directly faced lines of oncoming traffic. This is also an endeavor to avoid ch’ungsal. Boundary walls surround a specific area including the buildings within to form yards of various shapes. A clean, rectangular yard was deemed good. On the other hand, planting a tree in the middle of a yard symbolized the character kon 困 (kun in Chinese),69 which means troublesome, and was thus very much avoided. The character is also a part of the words pin’gon 貧困 and p’igon 疲困, which mean “poverty” and “fatigue,” respectively. There were also cases when the Hetu Luoshu and Munwang P’algwae were applied to the shaping of yards. The Yijing was an important subject of study among Confucian scholars of the Chosŏn dynasty, and therefore many relevant traces are found in various aspects of life. Research on the Yijing is largely divided into two branches, which are 義理 學 Yilixue (Ŭirihak in Korean; a method of interpreting symbols based mainly on meanings) and 象數學 Xiangshuxue (Sangsuhak in Korean; a method of interpreting symbols based mainly on shapes and numbers). The latter, which interprets the Yijing using the shapes of the symbols and numbers, is an indispensable foundation in implementing geomantic theories. In the old residence of Song Chun’gil 宋 浚吉 (1606–1672) located in the Taejŏn area, one can find a chimney with Yijing symbols engraved on it (figure 9.43).



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Figure 9.43. The chimney of Dong-Chun-Dang (동춘당), in the city of Taejŏn. A bagua (八 卦) symbol has been formed with T’aegŭk in the middle using roof tile pieces. Photograph by In-choul Zho, July 2003.

Symbolism and function were important elements that made up traditional Korean architecture. In designing any architectural features, symbolism was considered together with function. When there are commonly shared values among the people living in the same era and area, symbols can properly convey their significance. Symbolic items also play the role of providing stories for posterity. In particular, geomantic symbols provide rich significance to many people and stimulate the imagination. Architecture is not only a shelter for people; it provides inspiration for many stories. Stories pertinent to Korea’s traditional architecture are built on the basis of Asian philosophy, and are manifested as architectural spaces. Many parts of those stories are tied to the theories of yin, yang, and the wuxing, and related to the Yijing. These Asian philosophies form the logical basis of geomancy, and one cannot decipher those stories without understanding geomancy. And without fully understanding the stories, one cannot completely understand traditional Korean architecture. 3. Conclusion It is difficult to define the characteristics of traditional Korean architecture in a single phrase; it can be examined from many different aspects and angles. If one representative characteristic has to be pointed out, it is the fact that traditional

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Korean architecture reflects geomantic ideas. Furthermore, discussing traditional Korean architecture based on currently extant examples is only possible with reference to the Chosŏn dynasty (1392–1910) buildings within South Korea. To date, research into Korean architectural history focused solely on the development of wooden structural systems. This type of research angle stems partially from the Japanese colonial perspective of Korean architectural history originating from the Japanese occupation of Korea. By accepting Japanese scholars’ assertions, Korean researchers sometimes treated the buildings of the Chosŏn dynasty as inferior to those in the earlier Silla and Koryŏ dynasties. As such, there was a tendency not to choose the architecture of the Chosŏn dynasty as being representative of traditional Korean architecture. However, looking at Korea’s traditional architecture from a more varied viewpoint, we can discuss the exceptional beauty and features of Chosŏn dynasty architecture, which equals that of the buildings of earlier periods. This chapter has reviewed the principal characteristics of Chosŏn dynasty architecture from a geomantic point of view, although it does not cover all characteristics of traditional Korean architecture. My discussion covered five main characteristics: First, architecture’s close proximity to surrounding mountain ranges and watercourses—unique layouts considering the stationary forms of mountains and the moving forms of water were common. Second, architecture formed microcosms and centers of the universe —the centrality was determined by Korean geomantic compasses called yundo 輪圖 according to geomantic theories. Third, Korean traditional architectural logic is based on the classical theory of yin, yang, and wuxing (陰陽五行) and Zhouyi (周易). Fourth, the unique Korean architectural style with hierarchical orders is based on the geomantic theories of hyŏlnon 穴論 (the theory of placing tombs and buildings). Fifth, ecological architecture was founded on mythological stories—one cannot decipher those ecological and mythological stories without understanding the nature of geomancy. In conclusion, it is clear that geomancy has been a crucial part of all five main characteristics of Korean architecture. In conclusion, the two key architectural elements are that traditional Korean architectural structures were mainly constructed with wood, which did not last more than a few hundred years, and geomancy being the basis for dominant architectural theories. In the next chapter we examine the role of geomancy on Korean landscape architecture as an extension of our discussion on the impact of geomancy on Korean residential environments. Notes   1. Ch’oe Sunu, Ch’oe Sunu Chŏnjip (The Complete Works of Ch’oe Sunu), vol. 5 (Seoul: Hakkojae, 1992), 73: “The line as seen from the end of ch’unyŏ 추녀 [roof support at the corner of the roof] extends into an unending curve. It is in contrast to the Chinese roofs that make an excessively aggressive climb.” Seung Hyo-Sang, “Kim Chung’ŏp,” Konggan (Space Magazine) 222 (1986): 35: “One of the special traits of traditional Korean architecture is in the weightlessness of the roof, which differs from the heavy ones of Chinese architecture.”



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 2. Sin Yŏnghun, Hanog-ŭi Mihak (The Aesthetics of Traditional Korean Houses), Han’gil Sanmun Chŏngsin (Hangil Spirit of Prose), vol. 7 (Seoul: Han’gilsa, 1987), 13: “It seeks the beauty of empty space with the mountain in the backdrop. It is said that Asian beauty lies in the empty spaces, and this was deemed the pinnacle of art. From this viewpoint, our homes score full marks.”  3. Sin Yŏnghun, Han’gug-ŭi Sallimchip: Han’guk Chŏnt’ong Min’ga-ŭi Wonhyŏng Yŏn’gu (Traditional Dwellings in Korea: A Study of the Archetypes of Traditional Korean Houses), vol. 1, Yŏlhwadang Misul Sŏnsŏ (Youlhwadang Art Book Selections), vol. 37 (Seoul: Yŏlhwadang, 1986), 84: “Traditional Korean homes have particular features not found in the homes of other countries. One such representative feature is the fact that the rooms are equipped with kudŭl 구들 [heated floors] and attached to maru [wooden floors opening up to the exterior].” Cho Sŏnggi, “Han’guk Min’ga Yŏn’gu Sŏsŏl” (An Introduction to the Study of Vernacular Dwellings in Korea), Kŏnch’uk (Review of Architecture and Building Science) 24, no. 2 (1980): 45: “The distinguishing characteristics of traditional Korean homes are, above all, the existence of ondol rooms and maru rooms. . . . The heated floor style originating from the northern continental regions and the outdoor floor style which seems to come from seaside regions are combined to create a living culture unique to the Korean Peninsula.”  4. There are three wooden structure buildings from pre-Chosŏn times, which are Kŭngnak Hall in Pongjŏng Temple, Muryangsu Hall in Pusŏk Temple, and Tae’ung Hall in Sudŏk Temple.   5. When discussing the characteristics of architecture, all stages should be included, including site selection, roofing, and landscaping. However, when a building no longer exists but the site does, one can only discuss the characteristics relating to the limited scope of its siting. There are numerous historical sites dating back to pre-Chosŏn periods that fall in this category.   6. Kim Hongsik, “Han’guk Kŏnch’uksa Yŏn’gu-ŭi Pansŏng” (Reflection on Research on the Architectural History of Korea), Konggan (Space Magazine) 180 (1982): 160: “The art of Chosŏn began from the style imported from the Han Chinese during the Lelang 樂浪 [Nangnang in Korean] period, and reached its peak as it progressed through the Three Kingdoms period and into the Unified Silla period, but started exhibiting signs of deterioration during the Koryŏ dynasty and then continued into accelerated regression and corruption during the Chosŏn dynasty [Japanese scholar Sekino Tadashi 關野貞]. . . .  The architecture of the later Chosŏn dynasty was biased towards decoration and was overly complicated, and therefore from a functionalistic way of thinking, this may even be seen as regression rather than progression of history. According to [Japanese scholar] Fujishima 藤 島, the ch’ŏmch’a 檐遮 became so small that they do not exhibit nearly the kind of boldness found in the Japanese equivalent, kongp’o 栱包. Especially after the Japanese invasion of Korea 壬辰倭亂 [Imjin Waeran in Korean; 1592–1598], there was dramatic deterioration.”   7. Ch’oe, Ch’oe Sunu Chŏnjip, vol. 4, 192–93: “China’s wooden architecture style was transplanted early into Korea’s architecture . . . and while Korea’s wooden structures originated from China . . . the buildings could not match the massive scale of Chinese architecture. Therefore, upon first glance one may get the impression that Korea’s architecture is a reduced-scale version of the Chinese, but a look into various buildings will reveal that there are strong Korean features present in both floor plan and in the aesthetic elements. In particular, home architecture exhibits a subdued elegance that properly reflects Korea’s climate and living culture, revealing a calm and humble character in contrast to China’s flamboyance and grandeur or Japan’s intricate techniques.”

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 8. Of course, it is true that even the most primal and simple techniques can be mentioned as being a part of culture. The statement here refers to the techniques that border on men’s animal instincts.   9. Ch’oe, Ch’oe Sunu Chŏnjip, vol. 5, 73: “When building homes, people always followed nature and considered the scale and environment of the building. Furthermore, adopting geomancy as the main axis of design philosophy, people aimed to harmonize the shape of the land with the shape of the building, identifying taboos and fortuitous signs.” 10. Yoon, The Culture of Fengshui in Korea. 11. If the maru (wooden floor open to the exterior) and the ondol (under-floor heating), generally acknowledged as characteristic features of traditional Korean architecture, were separated as individual elements and their origins scrutinized, would they stand up to being called singularly unique traits developed independently in Korea? Both elements have their own separate origins. As such, when discussing the characteristics of architecture, instead of being restricted to singularly unique features developed only in a specific region, one should look at how architectural elements, even if imported from other countries, have been transformed, combined with other elements, and used to make further progress. 12. To be more detailed in terms of the limits of historical timeline, this refers to the period from the late Koryŏ dynasty to the late Chosŏn dynasty. Regionally, the limits fall within the southern Korean Peninsula. 13. The five palaces located in the heart of Seoul are Kyŏngbok Palace 景福宮 (“palace of fortuitous scenery”), Ch’angdŏk Palace 昌德宮 (“palace of far-spreading benevolence”), Tŏksu Palace 德壽宮 (“palace ensuring great benevolence and long life”), Ch’anggyŏng Palace 昌慶宮 (“palace of far-reaching praises for fortunate events”), and Kyŏnghŭi Palace 慶熙宮 (“palace of celebratory light”). 14. For political arguments about moving the capital to Hanyang 漢陽 (the heart of present-day Seoul), refer to Kwon Sŏnjŏng, “P’ungsu-ŭi Sahoejŏk Kusŏng-e Kich’ohan Kyŏnggwan mit Changso Haesŏk” (The Interpretation of the Scenery and the Site Based on the Social Structure of Geomancy) (PhD diss., Han’guk Kyowon Taehakkyo [Korea National University of Education), 2003]. 15. The theory of selection applied in relation to the relocation of the capital was Dili Xinfa 地理新法 (New Principles of Geomancy). Refer to the above-mentioned dissertation. 16. China’s oldest text on craft technique. 17. Lee Sang-hae, “Kyŏngbokkung Myŏngdang-gwa P’ungsu Chiri Sasang” (The Auspicious Sites of Kyŏngbok Palace and Geomantic Thought), Yŏksa Sanch’aek (A Walk through History) 8 (1991): 49. While the layout is based on the basic principle of capital planning from the Kaogongji in the Zhouli, which states, “The palace should be located in the center, while Zongmiao [imperial ancestral shrines] [are] placed on the right, Shejitan [altar to the gods of soil and crops] on the left, the government in front and the market in the back,” it is also true that such layout is in harmony with the geomantic shape of Hanyang. 18. Yoon, Culture of Fengshui in Korea, 217–229: “The geomantic landform condition of Beijing has been artificially enforced by creating a background hill. Behind the imperial palace, the Forbidden City, there is an artificially created mountain, Jingshan. This mountain seems to have been created to function as the protective main mountain or placenta hill for the geomancy cave, which is the palace and the city itself. The creation of Jingshan was initiated by the Jin (a Manchu dynasty) during the twelfth century by piling up the soil that resulted from the creation of an artificial lake near their palace. . . . The city of Kyoto is in a large basin surrounded by mountain ranges shaped in a horseshoe. In my view the Kyoto Basin is almost a textbook example of an auspicious site.”



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19. A building in a temple that enshrines a statue of the Amitabha Buddha. 20. The main hall in a temple where the statue of the Shakyamuni Buddha is enshrined. 21. A private Confucian academy where the classics were studied and memorial rituals for illustrious Confucian scholars were held. 22. A local public school annexed to a Confucian shrine during the Chosŏn dynasty where memorial services for Confucius and other saints were held and pupils were taught the Confucian classics. 23. In October 1453 (first year of King Tanjong’s reign), Grand Prince Suyang 首陽 大君—an uncle of King Tanjong—revolted against his nephew and usurped the throne. In 1455, forces that supported Tanjong raised a movement to restore the deposed king. Many scholars from the countryside died in the process. 24. Mircea Eliade, Cosmos and History: The Myth of the Eternal Return, trans. Chŏng Chinhong, Uju-wa Yŏksa: Yŏng’won Hoegwi-ŭi Sinhwa, Hyŏndae Sasang Ch’ongsŏ (Contemporary Philosophy Ser.), vol. 7 (Seoul: Hyŏndae Sasangsa, 1984), 36: “All architectural buildings each distinctly repeat the act of creating a cosmos—that is, the act of creation. Therefore, a built environment, in whatever case, forms its foundation in the center of the world.” 25. Yoon Hong-key, “P’ungsu Chiri-ŭi Hwan’gyŏng Sasang” (The Environmental Thought of Geomancy), in Han’gug-ŭi Chŏnt’ong Saengt’aehak [1], ed. Lee, 54–55. 26. Zho In-choul, “P’ungsu Hyangpŏb-ŭi Nolli Ch’egye-wa Ŭimi-e Kwanhan Yŏn’gu: Kŏnch’uk Kyehoengnon-ŭi Kwanchŏm-esŏ” (A Study of the Logical System and Meaning of the Geomantic Orientation Method: From the Perspective of Architectural Planning) (PhD diss., Sŏnggyun’gwan Taehakkyo [Sungkyunkwan University], 2005). 27. Theories on geomancy are divided into the theory of shapes and the theory of energy. The theory of shapes makes its assertions from the aspects of form, whereas the theory of energy makes its arguments from the aspects of direction. The logic of yin, yang, wuxing, and Yijing are mentioned in the theory of shapes, but are dealt mainly and frequently by the theory of energy. The theories of geomancy cannot be established if the theories of yin, yang, wuxing, and Yijing are excluded. 28. Ch’oe, Ch’oe Sunu Chŏnjip, vol. 5, 26. 29. Kim Sŏngbae, ed., Hyangduga, Sŏngjoga (“Mourning Song” and “House-building Song”) (Seoul: Chŏng’ŭmsa, 1975), 26 and 39–40. 30. The Pyŏlchubujŏn has many printed versions in existence and their contents all differ slightly. 31. The turtle corresponds to the Black Tortoise among the four deities (the Azure Dragon on the left, the White Tiger on the right, the Red Bird in front, and the Black Tortoise behind), and signifies the rear and the direction of north. 32. There are rules of the wuxing that allocate the internal organs of animals and humans to the points of the compass. 33. Looking from the center of the castle walls of Seoul, the names of the four gates— the east gate or Hŭng’injimun’s 興仁之門 “in 仁” (meaning “benevolence”), the south gate or Sungnyemun’s 崇禮門 “ye” (禮, meaning “propriety”), the west gate or Tonŭimun’s 敦義 門 “ŭi” (義, meaning “righteousness”), and the north gate or Sukchimun’s 肅智門 “chi 智” (meaning “wisdom”)—are also related to in, ŭi, ye, and chi. 34. In the building process, a ceremony was held on the day when the main girder or the rooftop girder was placed into position, and this ceremony was called a sangnyangsik 上樑式 (ceremony celebrating the completion of a structure). 35. Among the materials that explain the planning principles of Kyŏnghoe Pavilion is the book Kyŏnghoeru Chŏndo, written by Chŏng Haksun (years of birth and death unknown).

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This book holds major significance in that it contains text that reveals the architectural intent and planning principles of a traditional Korean building at the time it was built. The Kyŏnghoeru Chŏndo is divided into three parts: “Sŏ 序” (Introduction), “Pŏmnye 凡例” (Legend) and “Pal 跋” (Postscript). Accordingly, “Sŏ” was written on Laping 臘平 (Napp’yŏng in Korean; day of year-end sacrificial rites; day of the third manifestation of 未 Wei (Mi in Korean) following the winter solstice, which is the first or second month of the following year) of the year Yichou 乙丑 (Ŭlch’uk in Korean) or 1865, which was the second year of the incumbent king’s reign, and “Pal” was written on the 驚蟄 Jingzhe (Kyŏngch’ip in Korean; meaning “end of hibernation”) of the following year (March 1866). 36. Hetushu originated from China. Numbers 1 and 6 were positioned in the north, 3 and 8 in the east, 2 and 7 in the south, 5 and 10 in center, and 4 and 9 in the west. The elements of the wuxing were then allocated to each point, with water in the north, wood in the east, fire in the south, earth in the center, and metal in the west. Of the two numbers at each point, the smaller number was called 生數 shengshu (saengsu in Korean), or the starting number, and the larger number was called chengshu 成數 (sŏngsu in Korean), or the number of the grand completion. In the example of the north, 1 becomes the shengshu and 6 becomes the chengshu. The former starts and generates energy while the latter signifies the state when that energy has grown and proliferated on a grand scale. As such, while the numbers 1 and 6 both signify water, 6 implies the endless ocean. 37. Lee Sang-hae and Zho In-choul, “Kyŏngbokkung Kyŏnghoeru-ŭi Kŏnch’uk Kyehoekchŏk Nolli Ch’egye-e Kwanhan Yŏn’gu: Chŏng Haksun-ŭi Kyŏnghoeru Chŏndo-rŭl Chungsim-ŭro” (A Study of the Logical System of Kyŏnghoe Pavilion in Terms of Architectural Planning: With a Focus on Chŏng Haksun’s Kyŏnghoeru Chŏndo), Kŏnch’uk Yŏksa Yŏn’gu (Journal of Architectural History) September, 2005: 39–52. 38. Odd numbers correspond to yang while even numbers signify yin. 39. There are two types of deities that protect the home. The first is the t’ŏju 터 주 (基主) or the guardian of the site, and the second is the sŏngju 城主or the guardian of the building. For an architectural interpretation of “Sŏngjoga,” refer to Kwon Jong Nam, “Sŏngjoga-e Nat’anan Chŏnt’ong Chut’aek Kŏnch’ug-ŭi Naeyong’e Kwanhan Koch’al” (A Review of the Elements of Traditional Home Architecture as Revealed in Sŏngjoga) (MA thesis, Sŏnggyun’gwan Taehakkyo [Sungkyunkwan University], 1987). 40. Lee Sang-hae, “Tosan Sŏdang-gwa Tosan Sŏwon-e Panyŏngdoen T’oegye-ŭi Sŏwon Kŏnch’ukkwan” (T’oegye’s View of Sŏwon Architecture as Reflected in Tosan Sŏdang and Tosan Sŏwon), T’oegye Hakpo (Journal of T’oegye Studies) 110, no. 1 (2001): 519. 41. Lee, “Tosan Sŏdang-gwa Tosan Sŏwon-e Panyŏngdoen T’oegye-ŭi Sŏwon Kŏnch’ukkwan.” 42. Lee, “Tosan Sŏdang-gwa Tosan Sŏwon-e Panyŏngdoen T’oegye-ŭi Sŏwon Kŏnch’ukkwan,” 547. 43. Ch’oe, Ch’oe Sunu Chŏnjip, vol. 5, 63. 44. Zho In-choul, Yangsaeng P’ungsu-ŭi Pimil: Pudongsan-ŭl Ponŭn Anmog-ŭl K’iugo Kach’i-rŭl Nop’inŭn Pangbŏp (The Secrets of Life-nurturing Geomancy: How to Strengthen Your Eye for Real Estate and Increase Your Value) (Seoul: Tasan Puksŭ, 2010), 188–90 referenced. 45. On the letter-shaped floor plan of Imch’ŏng Pavilion, referenced Chang Paekki and Cho Sŏnggi, “Andong Imch’ŏnggag-ŭi Muncha Hyŏngt’ae-e Nat’anan Ŭimi-wa T’aekpŏb-e Kwanhan Yŏn’gu” (A Study of the Meaning and Housing Principles of the Letter-Shaped House Plan of Imch’ŏng Pavilion in Andong), Kŏnch’uk Yŏksa Yŏn’gu (Journal of Architectural History) 10, no. 3 (Sept. 2001): 25–44.



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46. Fuxi, Zhouyi (The Classic of Changes), trans. and annot. Yi Kidong, Chuyŏk Kangsŏl, 2 vols. (Seoul: Sŏnggyun’gwan Taehakkyo Ch’ulp’anbu, 1997), 37–41. Sich’ojŏm 蓍 草占 (shicaozhan in Chinese) refers to the practice of fortune-telling by drawing out one of the sixty-four symbols of the Yijing using sich’o or wooden sticks made for this purpose. “Before the fortune is told, first the required tools are prepared. Typically using the dried stems of the sich’o plant [Chinese yarrow or Achillea sibirica Ledeb., a type of perennial plant, similar to mugwort in appearance and belonging to the family Asteraceae, growing up to seventy cm tall], fifty thin sticks are prepared. . . . Before initiating the fortune-telling, a table is placed in the center of the room, and the bundle of fifty sticks is place on the table . . . after the mind is calm . . . the symbol is drawn.” 47. Yi Sik, Kugyŏk T’aektangjip (Modern Korean Translation of the Collection of Works by T’aektang), 7 vols., Minjok Munhwa Ch’ujinhoe Kojŏn Kugyŏk Ch’ongsŏ (Korean Classics Research Institute Korean Classics Translation Ser.), vols. 297–303 (Seoul: Minjok Munhwa Ch’ujinhoe, 1997–2002), 314–315. 48. Fuxi, Zhouyi, 335–36: “The image of the symbol stated, ‘The pond eliminating the tree is the significance of the symbol. As such, a noble person considers the logic of the symbol and shall have neither fear when standing alone nor worry when hiding from the world.’” 49. Qingwu and Guo Pu, Qingwujing, Jinnangjing (The Classic of the Azure Crow and the Classic of the Silk Pouch), trans. Choi Changjo, Ch’ŏng’ogyŏng, Kŭmnanggyŏng: P’ungsu Chirihag-ŭi Ch’oe’go Kyŏngjŏn, 2nd ed. (Seoul: Minŭmsa, 2012), 21. 50. Qingwu and Guo, Qingwujing, Jinnangjing, 27–28. 51. For evidence of placing importance on the control of mountain ridge-lines in Korea, one can cite Kim Chŏngho’s Taedong Yŏjido 大東輿地圖 (Map of Korea, the bestknown old map of Korea) and San’gyŏngp’yo 山經表 (a book depicting the hierarchy of Korea’s mountains as a family tree). 52. Samjae 三災 (sanzai in Chinese; three great disasters) refers to war, famine, and disease, or disasters of water, fire, and wind, and a place where such disasters cannot enter is called a site of samjae purip 三災不入 (three great disasters do not enter). 53. Ancillary installations that complete the boat-shaped form of Hae’in Temple include Haksadae 學士臺 (a high place of learning) representing the rope, Kugwang Pavilion 九光樓 (a tower of nine shining lights), which stands for the sail, and the big old tree, which plays a role as the big anchor. For details on this subject, refer to Lee Sang-hae, “Hae’insa Karam-ŭi Sangjingsŏng-e Taehayŏ—T’ŭkhŭi P’ungsu Chirijŏg-in Naeyong-ŭl Chungsimŭro” (On the Symbolism of the Temple Layout of Hae’in Temple: With a Special Focus on the Geomantic Contents), Kŏnch’uk Yŏksa Yŏn’gu (Journal of Architectural History), August 1995: 86–101. 54. Called Duanwujie in Chinese and Tanojŏl in Korean, this is the fifth day of the fifth month in the lunar calendar, and is a considered a day when the yang energy is particularly strong. 55. The term Hae’in is known to have originated from the phrase hae’in sammae 海 印 三昧 (haiyin sanmei in Chinese; sagara mudra samadhi or ocean seal samadhi; a state of focus to the level of selflessness) in the Buddhist text, the Avatamsaka Sutra. 56. Referenced in the History Special series produced by the Korea Broadcasting System television station. Episode 96, aired on December 9, 2000: Yi Sŏnggye-ŭi Tto Tarŭn Wanggung, Hoe’amsa (Hoe’am Temple, Yet Another Palace of Yi Sŏnggye [the man who founded the Chosŏn dynasty]). 57. Naong is a Buddhist monk who was active during the late Koryŏ dynasty. 58. Zhikong is known as the monk who traveled from India to China.

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59. A tanggan chiju is the supporting structure for the flagpole signifying the starting point of a temple’s grounds. 60. These installations refer to changsŭng 長丞 (a guardian totem erected at the village entrance) or sottaeryu 솟대類 (a bird-shaped wooden carving hung from the end of a stick located at the village entrance). 61. Chŏn Ponghŭi, “Chosŏn Sidae Ssijok Maŭr-ŭi Naejaejŏk Chilsŏ-wa Kŏnch’ukchŏk T’ŭksŏng-e Kwanhan Yŏn’gu” (A Study of the Internal Order and Architectural Characteristics of Clan Villages during the Chosŏn Dynasty; PhD diss., Sŏul Taehakkyo [Seoul National University], 1992). 62. The rivalry between the Wolsŏng Son clan (originating from Wolsŏng, North Kyŏngsang Province) and the Yŏgang Yi clan (originating from Yŏju, Kyŏnggi Province). 63. The rivalry between the brothers Ryu Unnyong and Ryu Sŏngnyong. 64. Hahoe village is composed of Yangjin Hall 養眞堂 (the name means “a house that nurtures real truth”) for the older brother and Ch’unghyo Hall 忠孝堂 (meaning “a house that emphasizes loyalty to the nation and filial piety to one’s parents”) for the younger brother, along with pavilions such as Kyŏng’am Pavilion 謙巖亭 (meaning “a house with the spirit of a humble rock”) for the older brother and Ogyŏn Pavilion 玉淵精舍 (meaning “a house with a pond as clear as a bead of jade”) for the younger brother.65. Li Yunhe, Huaxia Yijiang: Zhongguo Gudian Jianzhu Sheji Yuanli Fenxi (Cathay’s Idea: Design Theory of Chinese Classical Architecture), trans. Lee Sang-hae et al., Chungguk Kojŏn Kŏnch’ug-ŭi Wolli (Seoul: Sigongsa, 2003), 243, referenced. 66. Refer to the Hetu in connection with the numbers 6 and 7. 67. Sŏ Yugu, Sŏmyongji (A Book for Rescuing Those in Trouble), fasc. 2, Imwon Kyŏngjeji (Writings on Rural Life Management) (Seoul: Pogyŏng Munhwasa, 1983). 68. Wenyuange Siku Quanshu (Wenyuan Chamber Complete Library of the Four Treasuries) (Taipei: Taiwan Shangwu Yinshuguan, 1985), 804–8. In the forms of a house, there are five wrongs and five rights. The five wrongs will deplete the house’s wealth, while the five rights will bring in riches. If the house is large but the people are few, that is the first wrong. If the entrance is large but the interior of the house is small, that is the second wrong. If the walls are not built properly and fully, that is the third wrong. If a well and a kitchen are not properly done, that is the fourth wrong. If the site is big but the house is small with a large garden, that is the fifth wrong. If the house is small but the people are many, that is the first right. Having a small main entrance is the second right. A fully built boundary wall is the third right. A small house with many livestock animals is the fourth right. If the sewers of the house run out toward the southeast, that is the fifth right. 69. Hong Mansŏn, Kugyŏk Sallim Kyŏngje (Modern Korean Translation of Farm Management), 2 vols., Kojŏn Kugyŏk Ch’ongsŏ (Korean Classics Research Institute Korean Classics Translation Ser.), vols. 231–32 (Seoul: Han’guk Haksul Chŏngbo, 1982–1983), 40: “A tree in the middle of a yard is called han’gon 閑困 [meaning lack of industry and poverty]. A tree left planted in the middle of a yard for a long time will bring misfortune.”

10 Geomantic Aesthetics in a Traditional Korean Garden With Reference to Kosan Yun Sŏndo’s Garden

Jongsang Sung

1. Introduction: Understanding Gardens through Geomancy1 In building a garden, one must search for propitious water, wind, and rocks; once found, these become the principal components of the garden. As a product of human beings’ longing for nature, a garden sums up the beauty of nature, becoming a smaller version of it. Despite differences in spatial styles and components, the significance of a garden as a cultural reconstruction of nature has always been constant throughout time and space. As a cultural product of society, the garden reflects society’s ideology, aesthetic tastes, and technology. Gardens fulfill humankind’s desire for beauty through natural elements such as flowers, trees, rocks, and water. Gardening, the way to realize this projection, consists of the skills and principles used to comprehend the intrinsic value of land, and then reconstructing it in an aesthetically pleasing manner. In the former part of the process, the gardener must have an ecological understanding of nature, while the latter demands a creative sensibility for reconstructing the raw beauty of nature. In terms of the modern knowledge system, the former belongs to science and the latter to aesthetics. The garden is the result of humankind ascribing significance to a specific place. In traditional Korean gardens,2 the gardener selects a site from nature through aesthetic communion, then recreates it through creative and technological interpretations into a place of new meaning and beauty. Here we find the similarities between gardening and geomancy. Both practices bestow a humanistic significance3 on nature. They differ, however, in that gardening emphasizes aesthetic quality while geomancy stresses the physiological aspect4 of nature. Yi Chung-hwan 李重煥 (1690–1756), in the T’aengniji 擇里志 (Book of Choosing Settlements), lists propitious geography, physiology, landscape, and the humane disposition of the inhabitants as the four most essential factors when choosing a place to live. Likewise, in Imwon Kyŏngjeji 林園經濟志 (Writings on Rural Life 221

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Management), a book that compiles the unique geomantic theory of the Chosŏn dynasty 朝鮮王朝 (1392–1910), Sŏ Yugu 徐有榘 (1764–1845) warns that one can discipline one’s inner nature only when living among fine landscapes. In other words, both authors emphasize nature not only as a physical condition but as an entity with which the inhabitants empathize. Such ideology is most evident in the wollim 園林 (yuanlin in Chinese), the traditional Korean garden built on a mountainside. The wollim not only serves as a typical garden, a place for leisure and appreciation of nature, it is a venue for true communion with nature, to acquire the Dao 道, or “way,” found inside. Therefore, the landscape surrounding a wollim plays a doubly important role. It must be visually pleasing, but it must also have the right qi 氣, the spirit and energy of nature that allows the owner of the garden to refine his or her own nature. For this reason, scholars argue that Chosŏn’s wollim strives to reflect geomantic theories5 while maximizing visual beauty. The very first step of gardening is thus drawing the semantic system of geomancy from the topography and landscape of the site and introducing it into the garden. Geomancy is a traditional methodology of interpreting land that was widely used throughout ancient China and Korea. Changp’ung tŭksu 藏風得水 (cangfeng deshui in Chinese), retaining the wind and acquiring water, is the most essential purpose of geomancy. Geomancy is the method and attitude used to understand nature for such purposes. It attempts to comprehend nature, the external environment, and the basis of human life, because humans are a part of a larger ecosystem. Recent studies of geomancy primarily consist of surveys of broader preceding ideologies, basic theory and philosophical and logical structures, as well as interpretations of case studies. Because geomancy originates from a practical need to employ land more efficiently, its aesthetic aspect has been relatively underestimated. Aesthetic appreciation cannot be given priority when one seeks to benefit from nature while minimizing risks. However, this is not the case with gardens, which are products of styles and aesthetics. A garden is a place for spiritual rest and artistic expression beyond the basic human need for survival and security. This is why I have tried to discover and evaluate the aesthetic aspects of geomancy in this article. 2. The Relationship between the Traditional Korean Garden and Geomancy There have not been sufficient discussions on the traditional Korean wollim from a geomantic perspective. The scant reference to geomancy in current discussions pertains only to general statements that cautiously suggest that it (perhaps) had some influence on garden construction. This lack of research may have resulted from the different properties of geomancy and gardening: while geomancy deals with the location and placement of houses and burial grounds, gardening aims to recompose the site and create scenery. Both seek a solution to fit the specific site conditions of a certain place. But the garden, in its selection and arrangement of



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components, depends on the subjective aesthetic taste of the owner; thus it would be difficult to objectify the garden’s aesthetics through logical perspectives, such as geomancy. Geomancy attempts to read the qi (energy) of the land to fulfill the relatively basic needs of making it inhabitable or a site for burial, whereas the garden aims to fulfill the secondary desire of searching for the larger meaning of existence. Geomancy’s principles, therefore, relate to survival and are not meant to be applied to the garden, a place for contemplation and repose. The garden’s primary pursuit of aesthetic pleasure also diverges from geomancy’s original objectives. Geomancy is based on the larger geographical relationship between mountainous terrain, streams, and wind; the garden, at a much smaller scale, is spatially incapable of encompassing all of the elements of geomancy. Despite the differences, however, the relationship between traditional Korean wollim and geomancy must be studied in depth, for several reasons. First, geomancy and gardening are both the results of humankind’s attitude toward and approach to nature. Although specific needs, expectations, and effectiveness may differ, geomancy and gardens are similar in that both seek to comprehend nature and thereby to find the most profitable mode of adaptation. In other words, the two practices share the same basis—comprehension of and response to nature—and both ultimately strive to attain the value achieved through harmony with nature. The main differences between the two are the specifics of this value. Geomancy tries to obtain vital energy and to regulate the microclimate, while gardening attempts to achieve beauty and vitality using natural elements. Second, geomancy can be seen as particularly relevant to traditional Korean wollim because of the distinct characteristics of the latter. Traditional Korean wollim seek communion, blending organically into the surrounding natural environment rather than being confined within the boundaries of the site. Spatially, it extends beyond the scale of the enclosed territory; semantically, it engages actively with surrounding mountains, waters, and wind. In the Korean garden, two aspects that can be seen as having significance in relation to geomancy are selecting the site and borrowing scenery. For the wollim, located in a mountainous region, site selection is the principal factor in the gardening process. Generally, the geomorphological features of the vicinity, the location of scenic features, and the structure of the view are determinative factors of the site. In Korean gardens, these conditions are best observed in the location of a chŏngja 亭子 (Korean-style pavilion). Commonly, a chŏngja is located at a protruding meridian point—the dominant peak with the most outstanding view. Here, the beauty of the scenery is augmented by adding the chŏngja. Externally, the chŏngja becomes another scenic feature from a distance; inside the chŏngja, one can view the scenic features within the boundary of the garden and also the wider scenery beyond. Therefore, selecting the site for a garden requires a discerning aesthetic ability to perceive the harmony existing throughout the elements in the surrounding landscape, especially the mountains and water (rivers). It is here, I conjecture, that the perspective of geomancy was actively employed.

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The geomantic practice of pibo 裨補 is another indication of the correlation between geomancy and the Korean garden. Some gardens or garden elements, such as pagodas, can even be viewed as the solution prescribed by the geomantic pibo principle. The village forest, maŭl sup 마을숲, the pond in front of Yŏndongni in Hae’nam 海南, and the Seyŏn Pond 洗然池 garden on Pogil Island 甫吉島 are good examples. In conclusion, geomantic principles are manifest in many Korean gardens, especially wollim constructed on mountainsides, and gardens are sometimes even the actual result of geomantic practices. In this sense, the aesthetics of traditional Korean gardens can also be understood through the perspective of geomancy. 3. The Korean Garden as a Site of Geomantic Practices There are many cases of Korean gardens built with geomancy principles in mind. The more famous examples include Puyongdong 芙蓉洞 on Pogil Island, Soswaewon and Myŏnang Pavilion 俛仰亭 in Damyang, Sŏsŏkchi in Yŏng’yang, Sŏn’gyojang 船橋莊 in Kangnŭng, Mugiyŏndang in Haman, Kwirae Pavilion 歸來亭 in Sunch’ang, and Kwanghan Pavilion in Namwon. All are known to have had geomancy as an important metaphysical background to their creation.6 These examples show that gardens other than the three main private gardens (Puyongdong, Soswaewon, Sŏsŏkchi) can also be comprehended through the semantic system of geomancy. Puyongdong, created when Yun Sŏndo 尹善道 (1587–1671; pen name: Kosan 孤山) retreated to a hermitage due to the shame of being defeated by Qing intruders, is a well-documented example of a garden with geomantic elements. After Kosan’s death, his descendant Yun Wi 尹愇 (1725–1756) wrote a book, the Pogiltoji 甫吉島誌 (Local Gazetteer of Pogil Island) in which he described the garden using geomantic terminology such as chusan 主山 (main mountain), ansan 案山 (table mountain), naech’ŏngnyong 內靑龍 (inner Azure Dragon to the left), ubaekho 右白虎 (White Tiger to the right), oesugu 外水口 (outer exit of water), naesugu 內水口 (inner exit of water), and hyŏlchŏn 穴田 (heartland). After designating Naksŏjae 樂書齋, the main house, at the heartland located at the north-side foot of Kyŏkcha Peak 格紫峰 (main mountain), Mijŏn 薇田 (bracken plain) and Sŏgae 石崖 (rock precipice) are given the status of the naech’ŏngnyong; Hahandae 夏寒 臺 becomes the ubaekho; and the edge around Seyŏn Pond, under Sŭngnyongdae 昇龍臺 (Ascending Dragon Terrace) becomes the naesugu or inner water outlet. The Korean scholar Mun Yŏng’o explains that Seyŏn Pond, chosan 造山 (artificially created hills) and Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil 洞天石室 (Stone Room in a Beautiful Retreat) are the results of Kosan’s efforts to complement hŏgyŏl 虛缺, or remediate deficiency found through geomantic theories. It is said that they are features created via the principles of geomancy; chosan and Seyŏn Pond serve as pibo (complementary measures) for a hŏgyŏl, while Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil serves as an apsŭng 壓勝, subduing an overly strong qi.7



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Soswaewon, the quintessential Chosŏn scholar’s garden, is known to be situated on a type of terrain deemed extremely auspicious in geomancy, called a “phoenix’s nest.” Taebongdae, the small pavilion with a thatched roof, the bamboo, and the paulownia tree (Paulownia coreana) planted inside the garden, and the small lake beside the pavilion are also sometimes interpreted according to geomantic laws.8 The Sŏsŏkchi garden, created by Chŏng Yŏngbang 鄭榮邦 (1577–1650), a skilled practitioner of geomancy, is another famous example of a geomantic site. Chŏng Yŏngbang refers to the Sŏsŏkchi garden as an exceptionally auspicious site, calling it “Yŏnghyŏl Ch’ŏnji 靈穴穿池” (Pond Constructed on a Marvelous Site) in his book the Sŏngmunjip 石文集 (Collection of Works by Sŏngmun). The site is located in the heartland at the foot of Mt. Chayang, having Mt. Irwol 日月山 (“Sun and Moon Mountain”) and Mt. Taebak as the chosan 祖山 (grandfather mountain) and the chusan, respectively. It was formed following the geomantic framework with Kyŏng Pavilion as the center of the naewon 內園 (inner garden), Chagyak Peak and Mt. Chayang as the chwach’ŏngnyong 左靑龍 (left Azure Dragon), and Mt. Yŏngdŭng, Mt. Pongsu, and Nawol Monastery as ubaekho. Allegedly chosen by the guidance of a group of ferrets (Yi 1996, 64–65), Sŏn’gyojang in Kangnŭng City also has been understood to have used geomantic theories as its basis. Its kanjwa 艮坐 (facing the southwest direction) layout, chosen to set ubaekho as ansan, and the strategically placed lake into which p’albangsu 八方水 (streams from all directions) converge are all manifestations of inherent geomantic principles. The twenty-three-room servants’ quarters are aligned in a single line to alleviate the disadvantageous condition of a wide-open water outlet, and, as decreed in geomantic rules, a white tiger statue is placed at the foot of the white tiger mountain range.9 Kwirae Pavilion, built by early Chosŏn dynasty scholar Sin Malchu 申末 舟 (1439–1503) after his retirement, is another pertinent case. In the poem “Kwiraejŏngga 歸來亭歌” (Song of Kwirae Pavilion), written by Sŏ Kŏjŏng 徐居正 (1420–1488) at the request of Sin Malchu, the location and surrounding scenery of Kwirae Pavilion is described in the context of geomancy. In the poem, the location and scenery are listed in order, beginning with the main mountain and inner dragon, then the site of the chŏngja, the mountains surrounding the chŏngja, and the water seen from the chŏngja. This closely corresponds to the order by which geomantic theories view the land.10 Myŏnang Pavilion in Damyang, the birthplace of the Myŏnangjŏnggadan 俛仰 亭歌壇 (a group of poets centered around Myŏnang Pavilion, including Chŏng Ch’ŏl 鄭澈 1536–1593], Kim Inhu 金麟厚 [1510–1560], Im Che 林悌 [1549–1587], and Ko Kyŏngmyŏng 高敬命 [1533–1592]) is also frequently mentioned as a propitious geomancy site. Song Sun 宋純 (1493–1582), the pioneer of kangho kado 江湖 歌道 (a literary style of poems created and enjoyed in nature by Chosŏn scholars) is known to have spent most of his time in Myŏnang Pavilion when he was not working as a government official. Myŏnang Pavilion has such strong geomantic meaning that the

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poem Song Sun wrote of the place, “Myŏnangjŏngga 俛仰亭歌” (Song of Myŏnang Pavilion), is classified as a geomantic lyric 風水歌辭.11 In “Myŏnangjŏngga” Song Sun openly praises the location of Myŏnang Pavilion as a propitious site meeting the criteria of yonghyŏl sasu 龍穴砂水 (four important factors that a place must have to become a propitious site in geomancy).12 Pertinent examples are also found among the private gardens of scholars. Yun Chŭng’s 尹拯 (1629–1714) ancient mansion 古宅 in Nonsan, Unjo Pavilion 雲鳥樓 in Kurye, and Ch’ŏng’am Pavilion 淸岩亭 in Pongwha are constantly referred to as propitious sites in geomancy. The lake in the outer yard of the guesthouse in Yun Chŭng’s ancient mansion is a classic example of a geomantic device for storing auspicious water flowing from the west to the east. Unjo Pavilion also follows the geomantic order by resting at the mouth of the main course of the qi pulse 正出脈; one that flows from Nogodan Peak of the Mt. Chiri range is carried by a stream and comes to a halt at the pond that serves as the resting spot 形止. Other examples of geomantic practices include Sŏnam Temple, a Buddhist temple well known as having an extremely propitious site. Kangsŏn Pavilion, an aesthetically beautiful pavilion inside the temple, is the outcome of pibo geomancy 裨補 風水 as it is located at the hapsu 合水, the meeting point of two waterways.13 Another example is the historically important building known as Ch’ŏngp’yŏng Temple 凊平寺 in Ch’unch’ŏn City, built during the Koryŏ dynasty. 4. Principles of Geomancy Applied to Traditional Korean Gardens There is a controversy around the topic of how geomancy is applied to traditional Korean gardens. Those arguments, however, tend to rely on general opinions or speculation rather than scientific surveys or plausible rationale. There is no doubt that geomancy had an impact on the formation of the traditional Korean garden. In fact, a variety of different ideological influences other than geomancy exist, such as Confucianism, the Yin-Yang concept, and the Five Elements concept. It seems plausible to view the garden as an accumulated product of such ideologies over the course of centuries. The following summarizes arguments on how the principles of geomancy have been applied to traditional Korean gardens.14 Site Selection According to Geomantic Perspectives All architectural activities, including the construction of a chŏngja, begin with surveying the surrounding topographical layout and determining the site boundaries.15 This process is called sangji 相地 (xiangdi in Chinese),16 in which the specific site for building is chosen after investigating the lay of the land, its overall shape as well as its highs and lows. Thus sangjiron 相地論 (xiangdilun in Chinese; theory on selecting sites), the study of the flow of surrounding terrain and streams, is geomancy’s most important contribution to the Korean garden.17 As the beauty of Korean gardens is intimately connected to the beauty of nature, the aesthetics of the



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traditional Korean wollim is, by large, determined by the pre-existing aesthetics of the surrounding landscape. For example, the foot of a mountain 山林地,18 the most suitable environment for constructing a wollim, has a diverse, complicated terrain. Thus the gardener must be able to comprehend the overall geographical framework of the site to construct the garden properly. Geomancy becomes a suitable methodology to use in this process. Kosan Yun Sŏndo is known to have climbed the highest peak on Pogil Island, Kyŏkcha Peak, to survey its topography to deem the island habitable. He also climbed the mountain across from this peak to take in the overall landscape and decide exactly where to build Naksŏjae, his main residence. In Korean traditions, there were two steps in the process of selecting the site for wollim. The first was through yu 遊 (you in Chinese), the act of strolling around the area to directly experience details such as the terrain, rocks, streams, and trees. The second was through wonmang 遠望 (yuanwang in Chinese), the act of observing the overall terrain from a high point across from the site. The two were most likely carried out together. The kwansanchŏm 觀山點 (guanshandian in Chinese; a vantage point for viewing landscapes)19 emphasized in geomancy coincides with the latter of these two steps. Complementary Solution to Hŏgyŏl Hŏgyŏl means to be deficient, through lacking something or being empty. In Korean geomancy the land was referred to as a mother, and finding the hŏgyŏl and complementing it in this land was an important process. It was pragmatically impossible to find a place that fit all the conditions for a propitious site. Thus through pibo geomancy, or complementary geomancy, people reinforced places where the land was deemed “weak” by landscaping and adding elements such as a new pagoda, menhir, pond, tree, or changsŭng 長丞 (a traditional Korean totem pole). For example, the small hill in the field in front of Naksŏjae on Pogil Island is said to have been constructed artificially. The fact that a small pavilion next to a lotus pond, yŏnjŏng 蓮亭, was once placed on top of the mound suggests that the hill served not only as a complementary geomancy solution, but also as a kind of garden. In addition, to avoid losing qi through directly flowing streams, Kosan constructed Seyŏn Pond, and to alleviate the oppressive qi of the excessively high ansan, built Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil. Both show how the complementary measures of geomancy can be applied in creating a garden. 5. Geomancy as the Subject of Aesthetic Study: Geomantic Aesthetics The Conception of Geomantic Aesthetics We experience a wide range of different environments in our daily lives—from national parks to urban commercial scenes and abandoned industrial ruins.20 These experiences often lead to aesthetic responses. Environmental aesthetics originates in

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this response to our everyday environment. In other words, environmental aesthetics is involved when our aesthetic perception extends to the environment, beyond the boundary of conventional fine arts. Consequently, environmental aesthetics speculates not only on raw nature, but on the human influence on nature and the ensuing artificial environment.21 The creation of the rather unfamiliar expression “geomantic aesthetics”22 can be justified by the strong correlation between everyday life and aesthetics.23 Nature becomes scenery and a separate art genre through the conscious perception of humankind24; likewise, geomantic aesthetics is also formed in relation to human perception. Geomantic aesthetics are applied where the environment—water, mountains, and the wind—and the different spaces of human life meet the cognitive perception of human beings. This can be compared to the formation of “landscape aesthetics” during traveling or hiking, away from daily life.25 While this appreciation of landscape commonly occurs in a situation separated from daily life, geomantic aesthetics are relevant even in everyday life. For instance, the grove and pond in front of a village, created as a geomantic solution, are closely integrated with the inhabitants’ everyday lives. They are the products of continuous participation by the villagers in the stages of construction, use, maintenance, and preservation. In most cases, geomancy operates on the cognitive level by motivating such activities, rather than directly dictating such actions. The configuration of geographical features on a geomantic site can in itself be considered aesthetic. The vertical scenery in geomancy is composed of the overall flow of the mountain range, from chosan to chusan and hyŏlchi 穴地 (auspicious sites). Horizontally, it includes the elements of mountain and water being in harmony as seen from the hyŏlchi.26 The perfect site must have an awe-inspiring and vivid vertical flow; it must also have mountains horizontally crisscrossing each other, the mountain range farthest from view embracing the closer one, and these layers of mountains spreading across the field of sight, yet within a perceivable angle.27 A classical geomancy requirement is paesan imsu 背山臨水, or to have mountain(s) in the background and a watercourse in the front. This layout generates aesthetic value: a sense of stability by having the mountain at the back, and a sense of openness by having a wide-open plain at the front. This plain also serves as land for agriculture, so such a site merits practical interest as well as aesthetical values. Sanjŏm t’usi 散點透視 (sandian toushi in Chinese; “scattered perspective”)28 in East Asian art is relevant when appreciating geomantic aesthetics. In other words, the aesthetic viewpoint used to perceive the subject scenery varies, from up to down and down to up, and from afar and up close. This reflects a dynamic method of observation through actually moving and directly experiencing, as seen in the saying “pobogan myŏnmyŏn’gwan 步步看 面面觀” (bubukan mianmianguan in Chinese; “looking with every step and seeing every aspect”). In other words, we need a multidimensional and constantly moving point of view, rather than a one-sided



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and static view, to properly appreciate the geomantic aesthetics of the Korean garden. It relates to how Chinese landscape paintings must be appreciated “from every perspective, step by step,” as it was considered the representation of the vividly constructed visual image “apparent in the artist’s mind” after “observing to one’s heart’s content.”29 Thus, while strolling in a traditional Korean garden we also take in and appreciate the nature outside the boundaries. The Aesthetic Dimension of Geomancy If aesthetics is generally concerned with the aesthetic phenomena of fine arts and nature, geomantic aesthetics focuses on the aesthetic conditions of the nature surrounding the site of settlement, formed in terms of geomancy. While the primary purpose of geomancy is to find an appropriate housing site for survival and agricultural production, a more pleasant, comfortable environment is a secondary benefit, and it is at this point that the discussion on geomantic aesthetics begins. The security and comfort gained from geomancy are the result of interactions on multiple levels—namely the ecological, perceptual, and psychological.

Figure 10.1. The geomantic beauty of balance. Generally the geographical features of geomancy form an asymmetrical balance in the front and back as well as the left and right. Traced and drawn by Jongsang Sung and Yunhwan Yoo on the Kamyŏdo 堪輿圖 (Diagram of Geomancy), 40 and 41.

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The agreeable configuration of mountains and streams are the products of the logical human mind desiring comfortable living conditions, as well as the aesthetic mind pursuing harmony with nature. The assertion that geomancy lies somewhere between science and art also demonstrates geomancy’s duality of practicality and aesthetics.30 Here, I define geomantic aesthetics as the aesthetics that can be found in the principles of geomancy, or the aesthetic appearances and dimension created through geomantic principles. In other words, geomantic aesthetics can be divided into two categories; aesthetics observed within the geomancy principles themselves, and aesthetics found in the actual products created by these rules. The properties of geomancy relevant from an aesthetic point of view are the pursuits of harmony, balance, and unity. As geomancy strives to achieve harmony between yin and yang, within the Five Elements and among heaven, earth, and man,31 it fundamentally aims to “find a site where the earth and all living things are in harmony.”32 Likewise, geomancy seeks a balance between the different elevations of “t’aejosan 太祖山-chosan-chusan-ansan,” as well as in their lateral arrangement. The two mountain ranges that surround a site—chwach’ŏngnyong and ubaekho—result in an asymmetrical lateral balance and create a balanced state within the chosen site, both horizontally and vertically. The high and low hills and peaks form a flowing line of mountains, while small streams merge into one large river. Upstream, waterways narrow while mountains rise; downstream, the river expands while the land becomes flatter. The ideal spot in geomancy is usually situated midstream to upstream, where a balanced proportion of mountains and water occurs—another instance of pursuing harmony. Harmony, a value rather internal and static, is conversely intensified through dynamic balance, leading to a more comprehensive unity. According to the view that attaches high aesthetic value to a physical object with organic unity as well as diversity within this unity,33 the pursuit of geomancy clearly falls within the range of aesthetics. Thus, geomancy can be explained as an aesthetic practice of sustaining a benign relationship with nature through harmony, balance, and dynamic variation. The Composition of Geomantic Aesthetics Geomantic aesthetics can be studied in two parts: form and content. The former pertains to the sensuous pleasure derived from individual landscape elements and their overall formation, such as meandering streams, sweeping ridges, protruding mountain summits, and the commanding presence of the huge rock that diverts the flow of the water so that it embraces a village. The previously mentioned harmony and balance of natural features, as well as the visual pleasure derived from the combination of different viewpoints, are also important constituents of formal aesthetics in geomancy. On the other hand, the nonformal, content-related beauty in geomantic aesthetics comes from the meanings and symbolism derived through a geomantic perspective. One of the main theories of geomancy, mulhyŏngnon 物形論 (wuxinglun in



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Chinese; likening the shape of the mountains to animate figures) primarily depends on the physical form of the landscape, but ultimately strives to interpret this form to catch the symbolic beauty and meaning behind it. An analogical scheme that consists of various metaphysical symbols is created, and the landscape is given new meaning by the viewer’s intuition or subjective interpretation. Both the physical senses and metaphorical reasoning are engaged when forming the connection between the original form, the analogical object, and a specific set of meanings. In other words, the content-related beauty of geomancy is a product of aesthetic communication with the form-related qualities of landscape. To sum up, geomantic aesthetics can be divided into two categories: visual aesthetics from the form and composition of the landscape, and connotative aesthetics from metaphysical and symbolical interpretations of the land. Looking at the specific components of each category, the symbolic beauty, virtuous beauty, and ecological beauty found in geomancy would correspond to the latter and the scenery or visual qualities in geomancy would belong to the former. symbolic beauty Geomancy can be seen as a language of symbolism, viewing nature as an extensive system of similes.34 Geographical forms in geomancy symbolically aspire to emulate the figure of “the mother.” The mountain’s flow of life energy coalesces and abides at the hyŏlgich’ŏ 穴氣處, and it is thus seen as the metaphorical womb of the mother where life can flourish. Geomantic sakyŏk 風水砂格 also describes the ideal land of geomancy as a place nestled in an intimate, protected position like the mother’s bosom.35 By advocating for the mother as predominant symbol, geomancy gains a psychological appeal beyond logic. Moreover, the mulhyŏngnon of geomancy alludes to the mountain being different animals (i.e., tiger, dragon, cow, rooster), further developing the organic interrelationship between man and nature. By creating an analogy between the earth and a specific animal from similarities in form, geomancy also assigns the powers and properties of that animal to the mountain. The inanimate mountain is thus given a life, and also gains a humorous aesthetic value and familiarity by being connected to living animals. The old proverb that a great landscape makes great men reflects how geomancy aspired for something beyond simple aesthetical value. Also, geomancy views the static mountains and land as yin (negative qi) and the dynamic streams as yang (positive qi).36 Thus, as the rolling hills and meandering streams converge and diverge, the living qi condenses and circulates. The veins of mountains and streams interact, creating a dynamic balance between yin and yang. The place where ultimate yin and ultimate yang engage and coalesce (山太極 水太極), the ideal land in geomancy, is the site of such balance. ethical beauty In the West, aesthetics and ethics are fundamentally separate disciplines. This can be observed in the way Wundt, the father of modern psychology, assigned ­ethics,

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logics, and aesthetics to separate branches of normative science. Aesthetics in Korean traditions, however, have incorporated discussions on ethics and morality, expanding beyond the boundary of fine arts. In the cognition and acceptance of aesthetic values in Korean traditions, the sensuous aspect of aesthetics has been treated with indifference or even depreciation37; likewise, more emphasis was put on the internal values of nature than on its visual and form-pertinent beauty. This is related to the argument that Western aesthetics consists of reproduction, replication, and metaphysical perception, while oriental aesthetics has its basis in aesthetic expression, conveyance of emotion, and convergence with ethics and psychology.38 Spaces in their natural state are reinvented into places with a hierarchy through geomancy. The vertical flow of the t’ae-cho-chu-an 太-祖-主-案 mountain ranges becomes the framework in geomancy, and also the basis for spatial hierarchy. It corresponds with the vertical and hierarchical relationship between the grandfather, father, and son, and gains moral superiority by appealing to Confucian principles that stress filial piety. Morality becomes a spatial ideology, strengthening the ethical aesthetic awareness of the surrounding environment. psychological beauty Land surrounded by mountains—nestled between chwach’ŏngnyong and ubaekho and supported by chosan on the back—is warm and comforting like the womb or bosom of a mother. Such spatial constructs bring to mind the mental image of the mother’s bosom, and consequently gain a sense of psychological appositeness. Aesthetics at this level is closely linked with the aforementioned ethical beauty. The visual stability from adequate enclosure and cover also provides psychological comfort. Surrounded by chwach’ŏngnyong and ubaekho with a narrow water outlet, the land is clearly on the “inside” as opposed to “outside.” This spatial structure provides comfort and stability differentiated from that of the village, separated from the outside by “the hill yonder” or “the entrance of the village.” The mountains become a fence of sorts, generating a strong psychological bond among the inhabitants, creating the notion of u-ri 우리 (we). Propitious spaces in terms of geomancy can easily create such a sense of community and stability. The mountainous terrain of Korea and the frequent foreign invasions in the Koryŏ and Chosŏn dynasties may have strengthened the awareness of such favorable spatial conditions. This ideal spatial composition of geomancy is similar to the geographical conception of an Eastern utopia, the Peach Blossom Land 武陵桃源,39 with its narrow, elusive entrance and the wide protected plain within. Both cases indicate that a state of comfort and composure is more easily reached in spaces physically protected by the landscape. Puyongdong on Pogil Island is one such example: due to the mountains surrounding all sides of the island, there is no sense of insecurity coming from the open sea. One may even forget about the rough waters and winds outside the protected environment.



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visual beauty To enjoy landscape scenery is an active aesthetic activity of the mind. Such activity is realized through a selective process of the viewer’s mind. When people enjoy landscape, they selectively choose certain landscape elements to focus on among the collective physical features in the scenery. Visually prominent landmarks,40 such as mountains, islands, towers, or tall trees, and generally favored elements such as forests, water, rocks, sun, and sunsets, receive more attention than others. After selection, we assimilate those elements into a singular visual frame preconstructed within the mind. We generally prefer to perceive the ocean in a visual frame topped by a tree branch close by, rather than by surveying its infinite surface without any frames. Contrasting a nearby branch with the distant, vast ocean creates a stronger visual effect. The axis of latus rectum, commonly known as a “vista,” is another frame that strengthens our visual impressions. Our management of the scenery is best observable in the process of setting the angle of a camera. Even without active intention, we control the visual range and choose a scenic view out of nature as it is.41 Therefore, the act of “viewing scenery” can be understood as a creative process employing vision and viewpoint.42 People unconsciously note the line created by the ridges of a mountain range beyond the garden wall, more so than other natural elements.43 The shape of mountains viewed from the geomancy site creates a sharp contrast with the sky, forming a skyline. As a result, it gives the site not only a sense of protection but also of openness, acting as a psychological border. In other words, while the adjacent buildings, garden wall, and trees form the primary protective boundary of the garden, the secondary line of the surrounding mountains collects the viewer’s attention that may slip through the buildings, creating a sense of stability by keeping it within its boundary and on the site. Likewise, geomancy creates a geometrical and psychological axis, constructed by the relative height, weight or proportion of different landscape features. In most cases, the balance is not strictly symmetrical. The various landscape elements and features contribute to an asymmetrical balance. ecological beauty Geomancy basically strives to keep close to water and control the wind to an appropriate level. This creates an environment that is hospitable for human life. The groves and ponds created through geomantic logic can regulate microclimates or provide a habitat for small animals. For instance, recent research44 confirms that a village pibo sup 裨補숲 (grove created to complement negative qi) positively affects the diversity of wild bird species. Another such aspect of geomancy is the placement of value and meaning on the mountain ranges, thereby prompting the preservation of the environment surrounding the village. The cognition of nature through geomancy leads to the conservation of the surrounding mountains and

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streams. Thus, what geomancy seeks is to establish a healthy ecological relationship between living things and their environment. 6. Reading the Korean Garden through Geomancy: Looking at the Puyongdong Wollim Kosan Yun Sŏndo’s Puyongdong garden on Pogil Island and the Kŭmswaedong 金鎖洞 garden in Hae’nam are representative examples of gardens45 that can be interpreted by geomancy theory.46 Here, I will use the case of Puyongdong to look at an actual instance of geomantic aesthetics implemented in a garden. Geomantic Composition in Puyongdong When Chosŏn, under the rule of King Injo, surrendered to the Qing, Kosan in his shame decided to resign to lead a secluded life on Cheju Island. On his way, he visited Pogil Island, and seeing its exceptional landscape, decided to permanently settle on the island. Kosan is known to have stood at the summit of Kyŏkcha Peak to read the overall terrain. He declared that “The heaven waited to make me stop here,” and then selected a region surrounded on all sides by the mountain, naming

Figure 10.2. Pogil Island’s geomantic configuration of geographical features. It forms the typical feature of yŏnhwa pusuhyŏng (蓮花浮水形), or the shape of a floating lotus on water, surrounded by several peaks around the Puyongni field. Drawn by Jongsang Sung Gahyun Yu.



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it “Puyongdong” (land of floating lotus on the water). In its naming, he imbued the island with the symbolism of a lotus flower,47 thus deeming it an ideal place. Throughout his life Kosan strove to turn the island into the place of his dreams, imposing an open, grand spatial scheme on the entire island. While locating his abode, Naksŏjae, at the foot of Kyŏkcha Peak, he found strategic places within the island to construct appropriate gardens for each site, turning the entire island into a harmonious garden. His comprehensive understanding of geomancy is observable in the spatial composition of this garden, as follows.

• Naksŏjae’s location: Kosan placed his main abode, Naksŏjae, on the propitious position of hyŏlgich’ŏ on Pogil Island’s main mountain, Kyŏkcha Peak. The mountain range stretches to the west from Nang’ŭmgye 朗 吟溪, Mijŏn, and Sŏgae, to Sŏkchŏn 石田, becoming a naeryong 內龍 (inner chwach’ŏngnyong) structure. The mountain at Hahandae, starting from Kyŏkcha Peak and stretching to the east, constructs ubaekho.48 Thus the Naksŏjae site retains the comfortable atmosphere of Puyongdong, but at the same time it allows viewers to enjoy a relatively wide bird’s-eye view of the region. By having Kyŏkcha Peak at the back and chwach’ŏngnyong and ubaekho on the sides, the location is protected yet stately, enabling Kosan to overlook the entire island as its owner. As it is, Naksŏjae becomes a place of a commanding presence, an intimate throne on a lonely island kingdom.

• Chosan and Yŏnjŏng: The small hill in the middle of the Puyongdong field is said to have been artificially created using soil and small rocks by Kosan, making it a chosan (created hill). This small hill, around 20 m in height, can be interpreted as one of Kosan’s solutions to complement negative qi and make Naksŏjae an ideal place for habitation. There is said to have been a yŏnjŏng (small pavilion next to a lotus pond) on this chosan, also a result of Kosan having considered both utility (as a garden) and geomancy.

• Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil: This26 is another geomantic pibo solution. Yun Sŏndo treated this place as the land of supernatural beings or sinsŏn 神仙 (shenxian in Chinese; Daoist immortals), and the first two letters of the name he gave, tongch’ŏn (dongtian in Chinese), connote that it belongs to the realm of Daoist hermits. Noting that the ansan across Naksŏjae was too high, Kosan built this small pavilion on a cliff of the upper mountain ridge to balance the overpowering qi of the ansan.27



• Seyŏn Pond: Seyŏn Pond,49 a garden on a stream built with advanced technology and ecological aesthetic consideration, is also based on geomancy principles. The garden is located in the oesugu, where Nang’ŭmgye flows out to the ocean. As Nang’ŭmgye flows through Puyongdong

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­Valley into Hwang’wonp’o 黃原浦 in a straight line, Seyŏn Pond acts as a pibo that halts and accretes the positive qi that would have escaped without it.50 Interpreting Geomantic Aesthetics in Puyongdong geomancy as a mental framework for interpreting and redesigning the land The naming of Puyongdong and the placement of Naksŏjae, chosan, Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil, and Seyŏn Pond are all key elements for Kosan’s purpose of ascribing geomantic connotations to Pogil Island and creating a geomantic narrative. However, one cannot see all these places from a single location, because each has a unique outlook. Thus it is highly probable that Kosan incorporated at least two perspectives during his geomantic interpretation of the landscape. One is an overall view of the site, finding key points through the symbolism of geomancy. The other is an individualized perspective, employed to create an appropriate place for each site. The former perspective reconstructs an inclusive structure of the land, and results in a set of imagery built through Kosan’s insight in geomancy. I call this “the framework of geomancy as a mental image.”

Declination Elevation Mental frame

Figure 10.3. The perception structure between different points in the Puyongdong wollim. Drawn by Jongsang Sung.



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This framework acts as the basis for Kosan’s master plan to recreate the entire island as a garden by orchestrating the overall spatial composition and ascribing meaning and character to specific locations.51 In contrast, the individualized perspective aims to actualize the unique meaning or aesthetics of each site, recreating the place through his aesthetic ability. The process would have without doubt employed Kosan’s extensive scientific knowledge, artistic creativity, and aesthetic sensitivity. The geomancy semantic network of Kosan would also have been at the basis of this process. The overall geomantic framework and the geomantic meaning of each point play key roles in understanding Puyongdong’s connotative semantic relationship with the surrounding environment. Geomancy is at the heart of Puyongdong and is the key to understanding the garden; it is similar to how in East Asian traditions chehwasi 題畵詩 (tihuashi in Chinese; a short poem that accompanies a landscape painting) is the essence of and key to understanding the picture. By looking at the methodology of geomancy used by Kosan, we can understand his aesthetic outlook and his ŭigyŏng 意境 (yijing in Chinese; the ultimate aesthetic state one strives for) he had while creating the wollim at Puyongdong (figure 10.4). the geomorphic structure and layout: balance and harmony The center of Pogil Island, the Puyongni Valley, is surrounded by high and low mountains on all sides. The main dwelling, Naksŏjae, is placed underneath the highest peak, Kyŏkcha Peak. Other gardens are placed in selected key spots around the island. The main axis of Puyongdong is the line connecting Kyŏkcha Peak, Naksŏjae, chosan, Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil, and ansan. The heart of the garden is Naksŏjae, which has Sŏkchŏn as naech’ŏngnyong and Hahandae as naebaekho; then the mountain

Figure 10.4. The schematic structure of sansu 山水 (shanshui in Chinese); mountains and water) aesthetics and geomantic aesthetics. Drawn by Jongsang Sung.

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ridge flowing from Pporaegijae to Sŏnch’angnijae as oech’ŏngnyong and the ridge in the direction of Kwangdae Peak as oebaekho. The overall structure does not have a strict bilateral symmetry; rather, it maintains a more harmonious, natural status with differing heights and distances that come together in a state of balance. From the main habitat of Naksŏjae, one is able to see Sŏkchŏn on the left, Hahandae and Hyŏgŭidae on the right, and ansan on the front. Thus it situates itself in a place surrounded by mountains on all sides, yet with an open view over the entire Puyongni field and the valley. The place psychologically gives a sense of protection yet visually offers an open, stable view. The water flowing from the valleys left and right of Naksŏjae converges with the water in Nang’ŭmgye, creating a propitious body of water 明堂水 that flows east, in the direction of Hwang’wonp’o. The terrain narrows in front of Hahandae and Seyŏn Pavilion 洗然亭, becoming naesugu and oesugu, respectively. All in all, the mountains, water, valleys, and ridges all merge together to create a harmony within this small island. Such geographical conditions, with the “mystical atmosphere of the land and the eccentric beauty of rocks and water,”52 make Puyongdong a most propitious site. The placement of Naksŏjae, Koksu Hall 曲水堂, Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil, and Seyŏn Pavilion in key spots forms a semantic structure of geomancy while maintaining harmony and balance throughout the site (see figure 10.5).

Figure 10.5. The structure of Puyongdong’s geomancy: balance and harmony in geographical features. Drawn by Jongsang Sung and Gahyun Yu.



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stable visual structure through geomancy To live somewhere means to be surrounded by sang 相 (xiang in Chinese), the shape of the place.53 Puyongdong wollim has Pogil Island’s sansu from Kyŏkcha Peak to ansan as its sang. Gardens located in key spots allow viewers to appreciate the true meaning of “sang” in the most efficient and dramatic manner. The Puyongdong garden can be seen from a dual perspective. One is appreciation through movement, walking along the pathway between Naksŏjae, Koksu Hall, Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil, and Seyŏn Pond, while the other is a more static appreciation of each specific piece of scenery and its visual composition.54 It is interesting that the analysis of visual compositions and main vista points corresponds to modern theories of landscape appreciation. At the very center of both mental imagery and symbolic framework is Naksŏjae. From Naksŏjae, one can overlook chosan, located at the middle of the Puyongdong field, and the Puyongdong Valley. From Naksŏjae, both chosan and Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil come within 5 degrees in visual range, the former in declination and the latter in elevation, so that one can enjoy the scenery from a relatively comfortable angle. With both the distant background mountain (chosan) and the Puyongdong field captured at a comfortable viewing angle for the human eye, Naksŏjae qualifies as the most comfortable location to command the entire landscape of the Puyongdong area. The geomantic significance of Naksŏjae’s location lies in its triangular visual composition, through which the opposite mountain can be seen with a slight upward glance, and the inner field with a slight lower glance. In contrast, Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil is considered a kwansanchŏm (best spot for viewing an area from a geomantic perspective) according to geomancy, overlooking the whole Puyongni Valley, one can overlook the Naksŏjae and Koksu Hall areas within a 15-degree angle of depression. Also, with only a slight turn of the head, one can enjoy from Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil a panoramic view of the entire length of the Kyŏkcha ridge and the Puyongdong Valley. The key spots, Naksŏjae, Koksu Hall, and chosan, are all contained within a 10-degree angle of depression in vision. Considering the theory that a 10-degree angle of depression is the most comfortable angle for a viewer,55 Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil’s visual condition has its significance not only in geomancy, but also in ergonomics (see figures 10.6 and 10.7 on page 240, and figure 10.8 on page 241). Seyŏn Pavilion’s visual composition can be interpreted in a different way. Tongdae 東臺 (East Terrace), Sŏdae 西臺 (West Terrace), and Oksodae 玉簫臺 are the most significant appreciation points in Seyŏn Pavilion. While sitting on Seyŏn Pavilion, built between two ponds, Kosan Yun Sŏndo enjoyed boating and singing performances at the pond and dancing on Tongdae, Sŏdae, and Oksodae.56 When seated in the pavilion, Tongdae and Sŏdae loom into view in symmetrical composition. The height of the stages, a little lower than Seyŏn Pavilion,57 enables the viewer to enjoy the performance comfortably. As the dances were performed on stages only a few meters away from Seyŏn Pavilion, one could vividly see the details of choreography and even the facial expressions of dancers. The view toward Oksodae is another s­pecial

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10

Figure 10.6. The domain overseen from Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil. Drawn by Jongsang Sung and Yunhwan Yoo.

aspect of Seyŏn Pavilion’s visual composition. Kosan sent dancers up to Oksodae, a protruding rock in the middle of the mountain, and enjoyed the performance in a very unique way. He had the dancer wear long-sleeved clothes and make slow, big movements while he appreciated the shape of dancers reflected on the water surface. Since the distance between the stage and the audience prevented a detailed view of the performance, Kosan chose to employ a more sensuous means of appreciation. That is to say, he tried to produce a fantastic heavenly image on the pond, with the angel-like reflection of dancers in the backdrop of the reflected sky and clouds. Thus

Figure 10.7. Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil’s visual condition. The main key spots of Puyongdong including Naksŏjae, Koksu Hall and chosan are all contained within a 10-degree angle of depression. Surveyed by GPS; drawn by Jongsang Sung and Gahyun Yu.



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Figure 10.8. View from Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil as Puyongdong’s kwansanchŏm. From there, one can overlook the whole Puyongni valley and enjoy a panoramic view of the entire length of the Kyŏkcha ridge and the Puyongdong valley. Photograph by Jongsang Sung, August 2008.

one could simultaneously enjoy the vivid performance from Tongdae and Sŏdae and a fantastical scene on the water. Also, ergonomically, it is better to look down on the reflection than to look up to Oksodae (figure 10.9). Kosan had both intentions in mind when he situated dancers, to maximize both his physical comfort and the fantastical, dreamy effect of the performance as seen through the reflections.

Figure 10.9. Seyŏn Pavilion’s visual composition enjoying Oksodae. It is better to look down on the reflection on the water than to look up to Oksodae both in an ergonomic sense and for a fantastic effect. Drawn by Jongsang Sung and Gahyun Yu.

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Appreciation for Geomantic Aesthetics On viewing the environment as a closely connected entity of a space, its inhabitants, and human perception of the space,58 we can consider geomancy, which pursues an organic relationship with nature, as an “aesthetics of engagement.” Participation occurs with direct bodily engagement with a site, and geomancy likewise begins with site exploration. Geomancy seeks to understand the terrain as well as the characteristics of the physical environment, delving further to read the intangible flow of qi, wind, and water. Its process of acquisition is rather intuitive and subjective. Since it aims to achieve organic unity through the overall relationship between subjects and objects inside and outside the site, aesthetics in Kosan’s wollim (garden) can be seen as relational aesthetics.59 The new life on this isolated island led to a new lifestyle in complete harmony with the surrounding environment. One of the most famous pieces of landscape poetry, completed five years after the poet moved to Puyongdong, Ŏbusasisa 漁夫四時詞 (A Fisherman’s Poem of the Four Seasons), portrays a scene and the emotions felt in an islander’s life. The poem was further intensified as an artistic experience when it was put into practice as an actual performance at Seyŏn Pavilion and included music, dance, and singing by children while boating. Life at sea was lyrically described, and it was enjoyed as an art performance (music, songs, and dance) in the wollim. This form of art engaged families, children, dancers and musicians, assuming the nature of participatory art by allowing them to share, reinterpret and take part in the performances.60 Written in Korean letters, the poem was easy to understand compared to its precedents (Ŏbusa 漁夫詞 [A Fisherman’s Poem] and Ŏbuga 漁 夫歌 [A Fisherman’s Song]), which were written in Chinese characters, and even children could easily sing along. In this way, Ŏbusasisa eliminated the distance between the artist and the audience, and thus can be understood in terms of relational aesthetics. Kosan’s poetry owes a great deal to the natural landscape. He chose specific places through his excellent discernment of geomancy, and thus most of his poetry is said to be set in the spatial structure created by geomantic analysis.61 Pogil Island and Kŭmswaedong, the birthplaces of Ŏbusasisa and Sanjungsin’gok 山中新曲 (New Poems from Living amid Mountains), are representative of such geomantic structures. His deep satisfaction at finding an ideal place and building a garden that fit his aesthetic taste probably culminated in his artistic achievements. His appreciation of geomancy can easily be seen in some of his poetry, as follows: A small island, palace of a mountain Its name says it withholds something What treasures shall lie within But for fresh wind and bright moonlight

小島當山闕 其名藏在曰 藏在問何財 淸風與明月

—“Changjaedo 藏在島” (Changjae Islet)62



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Changjae Island, located across Hwang’wonp’o, acts as a shield that halts the outflow of water from Nang’ŭmgye into the sea. In other words, Changjae Island functions as oeyŏnsan 外延山 (outer surrounding mountain), protecting the wonjinsu 原眞水 (water following the flow of the main mountain) from flowing directly into the sea and thus playing a key role in making Pogil Island a propitious place. The Chinese character gwol 闕 (que in Chinese) in the first line can also be interpreted as a “lock,” one that prevents the qi from flowing directly into the sea.63 Thus, Kosan is praising Changjae Island for playing the highly essential role of “changp’ung” in geomancy, restricting water or qi from escaping out of Pogil Island, while keeping fresh wind in. It is a process of reaffirming the propitiousness of Pogil Island, and at the same time paying attention to the role of Changjae Island as an element that completes its ideal spatial composition. The poem reflects the theory of geomancy, and shows trust and psychological intimacy toward the nature. Who made [nature] so humble yet delicate? Its freedom and joy comes from the Creator Near the sun and with the wind like Zhu Xi’s  Yungu, The secluded serenity of the house and the   lay of the land exceed that of Li Yuan’s Pangu64 . . .  Heaven has given this humble hidden land   within a ten-mile distance And thus I know my life is not completely  destitute Stumbling upon Mt. Penglai by chance, I alone   have found a true place Every natural element is pure, surreal, and   mysterious in every way . . .  How could the din from the secular world   reach this place? I fear incurring the anger of the Daoist hermits   on thinking of return

維能創此朴而工 豪縱由來造化翁 傍日臨風若雲谷 宅幽勢阻勝盤中 十里蓬壺天賜履 始知吾道未全窮 蓬萊誤入獨尋眞 物物淸奇箇箇神 塵世啾喧何足道 思歸却怕列仙嗔

“Hwang’won Chabyŏng Samsu 黃原 雜詠 三首” (Poem 3, Assorted Poems of the Yellow Field)65 Here, in a poem written just after settling on Pogil Island, Kosan again expresses his satisfaction in his newly found residence. Although he did not intend to find this island, its landscape was magnificent, as if made by the Creator’s hands. He

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pridefully says his land is better than that of Zhu Xi and Li Yuan, and demonstrates his understanding of geomancy by emphasizing the lay of the land that allows serenity through surrounding mountains, yet receives much sun and wind. He deems the landscape surreal and mysterious, like “Mt. Penglai,” a place where the legendary transcendent, godlike Daoist hermits reside, and expresses gratitude to heaven for endowing this land to him. Even the thought of returning to the mainland disturbs him. He professes his wish of living like the Daoist hermits, in the fortunately found haven far away from the worldly life of the mainland. He later fulfills this dream by gradually completing his own garden and spending the rest of his life in Puyongdong. 7. Conclusion In this chapter I attempted to find an aesthetic significance within the traditional concept of geography, focusing on the aesthetic aspect of geomancy, one of the principles applied in the creation of the traditional wollim. Geomantic aesthetics is a term created in an attempt to bring geomancy into the dialogue of aesthetics. The assertion of this paper is that geomancy can be interpreted in terms of aesthetics, considering that it pursues balance, harmony, and change; the spatial composition of wollim created through geomancy can likewise be interpreted aesthetically. I posited the wollim in Puyongdong, Pogil Island, created by Kosan Yun Sŏndo during the mid–Chosŏn dynasty, as a specific example of this. Here, I attempted to prove that geomantic aesthetics formed the mental image that dictated the overall formation of the Puyongdong garden, and influenced the designation and characterization of significant places. More specifically, I demonstrated that the visual angles employed in the main points of the wollim allowed for comfortable viewing, meeting the conditions underlined in the theory of visual perception. Likewise, various aspects of geomancy applied in the traditional Korean wollim can be discussed from an aesthetic point of view. However, the evidence traced in this essay may not be so important in the world of traditional Korean aesthetics. For instance, interpreting that Naksŏjae is located within a human’s comfortable visual angle from Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil does not conform with the attitudes usually found in traditional Korean aesthetics66 to pursue nonrefinement 非整齊性 and nonsuperficiality 無技巧. I am also unsure whether it fits into the aesthetical dimension that Kosan had in mind. Such questions weigh heavily on my mind when considering that the Korean garden emphasized an integral experience of all five senses, rather than just one particular sense; that it upheld symbolic reflections over formal appreciation; and that it emphasized metaphorical beauty perceived through the mind. Despite these reasons, I attempted to interpret aesthetics in Korean wollim with a quantitative theory, not because I wanted to confirm its contemporary significance through modern theories, but because I could not find a more pertinent methodology or technique to interpret it. Recently, there have been increased efforts to find modern significance in traditional Korean



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gardens, often with successful results. However, it is more important than ever to understand that the creation of new concepts, phrases, and theoretical frameworks is absolutely essential for studying and theorizing Korean traditions. This may be the biggest task that scholars of aesthetics in Korean gardens must overcome in the future. Here lies the true intention behind the proposition of an incomplete concept, geomantic aesthetics, in contemplating the aesthetics of the traditional Korean garden, in its essence immensely different from its Western counterpart. We have examined the role of geomancy in traditional Korean architecture and landscape architecture within human settlements in the last two chapters. Now we move on to examine how and why geomantic ideas relate geomantic landscapes to animate or inanimate objects such as a reclining cow or a sailing boat. Notes  1. A preliminary version of this paper, Sung Jongsang, “Han’guk Chŏnt’ong Chŏng’won-e Kuhyŏntoen P’ungsu Mihak Yŏn’gu: Kosan Yun Sŏndo-ŭi Wollim-ŭl Chungsimŭro” (Pungsu Aesthetics of Korean Traditional Garden: Focused on Kosan Yoon Sun-Do’s Gardens in Mountain), was published in the Han’gukchŏnt’ongjogyŏnghak’oeji 韓國傳統造 景學會誌 (Journal of the Korean Institute of Traditional Landscape Architecture) 30, no. 4 (2012): 70–80.  2. The traditional Korean gardens discussed in this study will mainly be the sagachŏng’won 私家庭園 (private gardens) that Chosŏn scholars 士大夫 built. In this study, “traditional Korean gardens” will refer to the gardens of Chosŏn scholars; however, gardens built near mountains and water and possessing an especially beautiful view will be referred to as wollim (gardens in mountains). Wollim, or sansuchŏng’won 山水庭園, were usually built in the late Koryŏ dynasty or after the mid-Chosŏn dynasty in the sixteenth century, by scholars who often visited mountains and rivers. It involves using the view of the landscape, mostly consisting of water and rocks from mountains and rivers, which sets them apart from sagachŏng’won built within the cities. Because their locations were determined based on an overall understanding of the surrounding mountain slopes or waters, it is likely that geomancy was a more important factor in sansuchŏng’won than in other types of gardens.  3. Sarah Rossbach, Feng Shui: The Chinese Art of Placement, trans. and ed. Choi Changjo, T’ŏ Chapki-ŭi Yesul: Sŏyang’in-i Ihaehan P’ungsu Sasang (Seoul: Minŭmsa, 1992), 27.   4. This indicates that the “life” or “flow of chigi 地氣 (qi of earth)” in geomancy is respected. Choi Changjo’s argument that a geomancy outlook on the land brings life into the overall geographical features probably refers to this.   5. Kim Dukyu, “P’ungsu Chirijŏk Kwanchŏm-esŏ Pon Myŏnangjŏng Ipchi-e Kwanhan Yŏn’gu” (A Study of the Site of Myŏnang Pavilion from the Perspective of Geomancy), Han’guk Chŏng’won Hakhoeji (Journal of the Institute of Korean Traditional Garden) 18, no. 2 (Jun. 2000): 63–70; and Kim Dukyu et al., “P’ungsu Chiri Kwanchŏm-ŭro Haesŏkhan Kwiraejŏng Ipchi-e Kwanhan Yŏn’gu: Kwiraejŏnggi-rŭl Chungsim-ŭro” (A Study of the Site of Kwirae Pavilion from the Perspective of Geomancy: With a Focus on A Record on Kwirae Pavilion), Han’guk Chŏng’won Hakhoeji (Journal of the Institute of Korean Traditional Garden) 19, no. 4 (Dec. 2001): 39–46.

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  6. Strictly speaking, it is difficult to conclude that geomancy was a critical principle in the creation of Korean gardens. There are not many records in which the creator of the garden mentions geomancy. Geomantic understanding and application are usually only evident in field studies written after visits to the garden in that era or the following era, or in stories that have been passed down through generations. There are instances in which only geomantic theorists have recently proclaimed a garden to be geomantic. However, this study intends to incorporate all these narratives into an integrated geomantic interpretation. That is because, to understand a particular garden, one must understand not only the intentions during creation but also its usage and appreciation. It is similar to the case of art or literary pieces: it can be interpreted from a writer’s perspective and intention, yet it also allows the possibility of open interpretation according to the situation and the recipient. In other words, the basis of interpretation lies outside as much as inside of the actual piece of work. Even if the creator did not intend to instill geomancy while making the garden, if the final outcome can be interpreted through geomancy either in features or meanings, it can be perceived as a geomantic garden.   7. Mun Yŏng’o, Kosan Munhak Sangnon (A Detailed Discussion on Kosan’s Literary Works) (Seoul: T’aehaksa, 2001), 509–515.  8. As is generally known, ponghwang 鳳凰 (fenghuang in Chinese; phoenixes) are legendary birds that symbolize sŏng’in 聖人 (shengren in Chinese; saints) or outstanding individuals. They are considered to be good omens that rest only on paulownia branches and consume only clean water and bamboo fruits borne every sixty years. The establishment of the ponghwang symbol in Soswaewon can be explained analogically through the intentions of Yang Sanbo. The geomantic theorist Chang Yŏnghun regards Songgang Chŏng Ch’ŏl, a fellow student of Yang Sanbo’s son, Yang Chajing, as the ponghwang (Chang Yŏnghun, Taehak P’ungsu Kangnon (College Lectures on Geomancy) (Seoul: Tamdi Ch’ulp’an, 2006), 333–36). Later, Chŏng Ch’ŏl visited the grass-roofed pavilion, built in the year he was born, and dedicated a poem titled “Soswaewon Chech’ojŏng 瀟灑園 題草亭” (Naming the Grassroofed Pavilion at Soswaewon). If Chŏng Ch’ŏl, the master of the kasa 歌詞 (lyrical poetry of Chosŏn) and head of the Sŏin 西人, or Westerners (a major political faction after the mid–Chosŏn dynasty), was indeed the ponghwang that Yang Sanbo had been waiting for, he had fostered the vision that Yang Sanbo held on his visits to the grass-roofed pavilion.  9. Cho Yonghŏn, Cho Yonghŏn-ŭi Myŏngmun’ga: Han’gug-ŭi Nobŭllesŭ Obŭlliju-rŭl Wihayŏ (Cho Yonghŏn’s Illustrious Families: For Noblesse Oblige in Korea) (Seoul: Raendŏm Hausŭ K’oria, 2009), 368–75. 10. Kim et al., “P’ungsu Chiri Kwanchŏm-ŭro Haesŏkhan Kwiraejŏng Ipchi-e Kwanhan Yŏn’gu,” 40. 11. Kim Dukyu, Uri Ttang, Uri P’ungsu (Our Land, Our Geomancy) (Seoul: Tonghaksa, 1998), 142. 12. The following material should be referred to for further information: Kim, Uri Ttang, Uri P’ungsu, 63–70, 145–47. 13. The artwork, titled the Sŏnamsa Chungch’angdo 仙巖寺 重創圖 (Diagram of the Reconstruction of Sŏnam Temple) and passed down from Sŏnam Temple, is known to have been created in 1147 and contains a geomancy-related interpretation of the Sŏnam Temple mountain range. According to the interpretation, Sŏnam Temple is a highly propitious site, for it is the shape of a Changgun Taejwa 將軍 對坐 (military general sitting face to face) with Ongnyŏ Peak 玉女峯 as the ansan. For further information, see Kim, Uri Ttang, Uri P’ungsu, 188–94.



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14. In this study, only contents generally accepted in studies by various geomancy experts will be discussed. There are other geomantic views that are not mentioned in this study, such as deeming gardens and their elements to be symbols of geomancy and regarding it as an essential designing principle, or relating tree types and their locations to the surrounding nature. Examples of the former would be deeming walls devices to control the wind and confine the shengqi 生氣 (saenggi in Korean; live qi) of the land, or viewing the front gate as p’a 破 or sugu 水口 and considering the size of the garden and the building’s location and direction to choose an appropriate place for the gate. An example of the latter would be to select and plant species so that the plants within the garden would coexist with the surroundings. 15. “. . . 故凡造作 必先相地立基 . . .” comes from Ji Cheng’s 計成 Yuanye 園冶 (Garden Treatise) Xingzaolun 興造論 (Hŭngjoron in Korean; Theory on Architectural Design). Ji Cheng says that in creating a wollim, the first thing to do is to examine the land carefully and choose an appropriate site. If the chosen site fits with the conditions of the surrounding environment and the landscape, the wollim created there would naturally achieve an excellent state (相地 合宜 構園 體得). 16. The exact meaning of xiangdi can be described as surveying the site. But Ji Cheng considered its meaning to be not only surveying but also selecting the site. Hwang Kiwon, “Wonya Sangjiron Yŏn’gu (1): T’ongnon-ŭl Chungsim-ŭro” (A Treatise on the Xiangdilun of the Yuanye (1): With a Focus on the Introductory Theories), Hwan’gyŏng Nonch’ong (Journal of Environmental Studies) 33 (1995): 196–224. 17. Choi Won Suk explains the structure of geomancy into two discourses; a discourse of xiangdi (or selecting the site) and of pibo. The xiangdi discourse is a logical system for selecting the propitious site that consisted of the principles of kannyong 看龍 (kanlong in Chinese), changp’ung, tŭksu, chunghyŏl 中穴 (zhongxue in Chinese), chwahyang 坐向 (zuoxiang in Chinese) and hyŏngguk 形局 (xingju in Chinese). The pibo discourse is a logical system for making up for the weak points and making it into a suitable site that included yongmaek pibo 龍脈裨補, changp’ung pibo 藏風裨補, sugu pibo 水口裨補, tŭksu pibo 得水裨補, hyŏngguk pibo 形局裨補, screening the hyŏngsang 形相 (xingxiang in Chinese) and defending the heat of fire. For more on this issue, see Choi, Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu-wa Pibo, 49–55. 18. “. . . the foot of a mountain [山林地] is the best for the site of a garden . . . ,” Yuanye, “Xiangdilun 相地論” (Theory on the Selection of Sites). 19. In geomancy, the “kwansanchŏm” refers to a high point from which one is able to appraise the geographical features more easily. Usually, once the kwansanchŏm is found, it is easy to find the “myŏngdang 明堂” (mingtang in Chinese; the ideal site). 20. Simon Bell, Landscape: Pattern, Perception and Process (London: Taylor & Francis, 1999), 66. 21. Allen Carlson, Nature and Landscape: An Introduction to Environmental Aesthetics (New York: Columbia University Press, 2009), 10. 22. The term “geomantic aesthetics 風水美學” is not commonly used in academia. The first to have used it in an academic context is probably Chang Yŏnghun, who explained geomantic aesthetics by dividing it into three parts: the aesthetics found in the geomantic field, the geomancy in aesthetics, and the encounter between aesthetics and geomancy. For further information see Chang, Taehak P’ungsu Kangnon). 23. Bell, Landscape: Pattern, Perception and Process, 64. 24. Kenneth Clark, Landscape into Art (London: John Murray, 1979), viii.

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25. Min Joo Sik, “P’unggyŏng-ŭi Mihak: P’unggyŏngmi-ŭi Kujo-wa Wolli” (The Aesthetics of Landscapes: The Structures and Principles of the Beauty of Landscapes), Mihak (Korean Journal of Aesthetics) 31 (2001): 12. 26. Yi Tae’u, P’ungsu Chogyŏng: Chŏnt’ong Saenghwal P’ungsu-ro Kkuminŭn Ŭmt’aek, Chut’aek, Saju Yŏkhag-ŭi Sangsaeng Chogyŏng (Geomantic Landscapes: The Mutually Lifegiving Landscapes of Graves, Houses, and the Study of the Four Pillars of Destiny and the Yijing Decorated through Traditional Everyday Geomancy), Ch’ŏngdong Kŏul Haksul Ch’ongsŏ (Ch’ŏngdong Kŏul Academic Ser.), vol. 2 (Seoul: Ch’ŏngdong Kŏul, 2003), 70. 27. Yi, P’ungsu Chogyŏng, 70. 28. East Asian landscape paintings and landscape poems adopt a free form in the placement and description of shapes, in which time and space are transcended. Sanjŏm t’usi 散點透視 (sandian toushi in Chinese) is an artistic technique where several perspectives exist within one frame. It reflects the artist’s aesthetic attitude, wishing to appreciate the view while strolling in nature without being limited to a single perspective. It can be said to derive from a strong spiritual stance and a subjective vision of nature. Michael Sullivan, a scholar of Eastern art, explained this as “shifted perspective” (Michael Sullivan, The Arts of China, rev. ed. (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1979)). 29. Zhang Fa, Zhongxi Meixue yu Wenhua Jingshen (The Aesthetics and Cultural Spirit of China and the West), trans. Yu Chungha et al., Tongyang-gwa Sŏyang, kŭrigo Mihak: Arŭmdaum-ŭl Pich’unŭn Tu Kŏur-ŭl Ch’ajasŏ (Seoul: P’urŭn Sup, 1999), 376. 30. Rossbach, Feng Shui, 20. 31. Cho, Cho Yonghŏn-ŭi Myŏngmun’ga, 63. 32. Choi Changjo, Ttang-ŭi Nunmul, Ttang-ŭi Hŭimang: Mul-gwa Param-ŭi Kir-ŭl Ttarasŏ (Tears of the Land, Hopes of the Land: Following the Paths of Water and Wind) (Seoul: Kungni, 2000), 27. 33. Carlson, Nature and Landscape, 19. 34. Rossbach, Feng Shui, 50. 35. Yi, P’ungsu Chogyŏng, 82. 36. This is from Hu Shunshen’s 胡舜申 “Shuilun 水論” (Theory on Water) in Dili Xinfa. Hu Shunshen, Dili Xinfa, trans. Kim Dukyu, Chiri Sinpŏp: Chosŏn Sidae-ŭi P’ungsuhak Kyogwasŏ, rev. ed. (Seoul: Pibong Ch’ulp’ansa, 2004), 58. 37. This can also be seen in how Yulgok Yi I 栗谷 李珥 held the aesthetic appreciation of nature in low regard. Yulgok deemed nature to be the ultimate “good” that can foster ethics, norms, and the truth. Thus, in his landscape poems, focusing on the physical aspects of nature or showing an emotional attitude was strictly prohibited. This meant that the act of perceiving nature in an aesthetic or indulgent way was strongly considered to be what Confucian scholars should reject. For further information see Yi Minhong, Chosŏnjo Siga-ŭi Inyŏm-gwa Mi Ŭisik (The Ideology and Aesthetic Consciousness of the Poetry of the Chosŏn Dynasty), rev. ed. (Seoul: Sŏnggyun’gwan Taehakkyo Ch’ulp’anbu, 2000), 375–98; Ch’oe Chinwon, Han’guk Kojŏn Siga-ŭi Hyŏngsangsŏng (Imagery in Classical Korean Poetry), Taedong Munhak Yŏn’gu Ch’ongsŏ (Daedong Literary Research Ser.), vol. 8 (Seoul: Sŏnggyun’gwan Taehakkyo Ch’ulp’anbu, 1996 [1988]), 58–81; and Youn Sa-soon, “Sŏngnihakchŏk In’gan’gwan Chayŏn’gwan” (Neo-Confucian Views of Humans and Nature), Chosŏn Sidae Sŏngnihag-ŭi Yŏn’gu (A Study of Neo-Confucianism during the Chosŏn Dynasty), Minjok Munhwa Yŏn’gu Ch’ongsŏ (Research on Korean Studies Ser.), vol. 92 (Seoul: Koryŏ Taehakkyo Minjok Munhwa Yŏn’guso, 1998).



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38. Zhou Lai-Xiang, “A Comparison between Eastern and Classical Aesthetic Theories,” in The Reasons of Art: Artworks and the Transformations of Philosophy, ed. Peter J. McCormick (Ottawa: University of Ottawa Press, 1985), 465–68. 39. The Peach Blossom Land 武陵桃源 as an Eastern utopia is a place that follows a spatial diagram that meets two conditions: one, keeping distance from the mundane world, and two, a self-sufficient environment. The entrance, so narrow that it can never be found twice, and the geomantic topography of surrounding mountains are devices to keep distance through setting extremely limited relationships. The fields within the basin encircled by mountains are the very epitome of a self-sufficient life. For more on this kind of spatial scheme of traditional Korean gardens, see Sung Jongsang, “Chogyŏng Sŏlgye-e Issŏsŏ ‘Saengt’ae-Munhwa’ T’onghapchŏk Chŏpkŭn-e Kwanhan Yŏn’gu: Kosan Yunsŏndo Wollim-ŭl Taesang-ŭro” (A Study of the Integrative Approach of “Ecology-Culture” to Landscape Design: With Kosan Yun Sŏndo’s Garden as the Object) (PhD diss., Sŏul Taehakkyo (Seoul National University), 2003), 94–98. 40. Nakamura Yoshio, Fukei-wo Tsukuru: Kankyo Bigaku-eno Michi (Creating Landscapes: The Path to Environmental Aesthetics), trans. Kang Yŏngjo, P’unggyŏng-ŭi K’waerak: K’ŭrieit’ŏ, P’unggyŏng-ŭl Mandŭlda (Seoul: Hyohyŏng Ch’ulp’an, 2007), 33. 41. Nakamura, Fukei-wo Tsukuru, 33. 42. Ibid., 35. 43. The results derived from cases such as Jerome Lettvin’s frog experiment and Japan’s camera-eye experiment prove that higher life forms, including humans, can perceive using their visual perception of shape characteristics, including the edges of objects, borderlines that have different tones, the corners or big curves of objects, moving objects, objects fading away (using the trick of light), irregular parts, and continuously smooth curves or straight lines. Nakamura Yoshio, Fukeigaku Nyumon (Introduction to Landscape Studies), trans. Kim Chaeho, Punggyŏnghak Immun (Seoul: Munjung, 2004), 55. 44. Park Chan-Ryul et al., “Pibosup: A Unique Korean Biotope for Cavity-Nesting Birds,” Journal of Ecology and Field Biology 29, no. 2 (2006): 75–84. 45. Kosan Yun Sŏndo was a man of many talents, excelling in fields of science such as astronomy, geography, yŏkpŏp 曆法 (lifa in Chinese; almanacs), and medicine and in arts such as poetry, literature, and music. He was also accomplished enough in geomancy to be asked to perform kannŭng 看陵 (kanling in Chinese; seeking the site for the king’s tomb) and found not only the site of his own garden but of King Hyojong’s 孝宗 tomb. After his death, King Chŏngjo 正祖 praised Kosan to be the greatest kamyŏga 堪輿家 (geomancy specialist) after the Buddhist monk, Great Master Muhak 無學大師. 46. Kŭmswaedong in Hae’nam and Pogil Island in Wandogun 莞島郡 (Wando County) are known as two gardens where Kosan Yun Sŏndo’s eye for geomancy played an important role. From the very beginning when he found the two places and created his gardens, he found the geomantic conditions of each site to be extraordinary. In Kŭmswaedonggi 金鎖洞 記 (A Record of Kŭmswaedong), which he wrote after first discovering Kŭmswaedong, and in the Pogiltoji, which was written by his descendant Yun Wi after a visit to Pogil Island, we can see Kosan’s geomancy expertise in the process of finding and settling on the land. Other interpretations of the geomantic meaning in Kosan’s wollim can also be found in the following: Mun, Kosan Munhak Sangnon, 473–528; Chŏng Chaehun and Hwang Hŏnman, Pogilto Puyongdong Wollim (the Puyongdong Garden on Pogil Island), Kyoyang Han’guk Munhwasa (Korean Cultural History for General Education), vol. 2 (Seoul: Yŏlhwadang, 1993); and

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Sin Yŏnghun, Yun Sŏndo-wa Pogilto (Yun Sŏndo and Pogil Island), Sin Yŏnghun-ŭi Yŏksa Kihaeng (Sin Yŏnghun’s Travels through History), vol. 7 (Seoul: Chosŏn Ilbosa, 1999). 47. The lotus, also called puyong 芙蓉 (furong in Chinese) or hahwa 夏花 (xiahua in Chinese), has various symbolic meanings that are based on two contexts. One is that the Chinese character yŏn 蓮 (lian in Chinese; lotus) is similar to yŏn 連 (lian in Chinese; relation), and the other argues that the symbolism comes from the lotus’s ecological features. If the symbolism of “successive kwagŏkŭpche 科擧及第 [passing the state civil service examinations]”: and “yearly abundance” is derived from the former, the symbolism of the sun, creation of life, prosperity, freshness, purity, resurrection, kunja 君子 (junzi in Chinese; noble man), etc. come from the latter. It embraces various religions, including Buddhism, Confucianism, Daoism, and folk religion, as well as different beliefs. It is difficult to say which part of this varied range of symbolism Kosan focused on, but considering that he studied the geographical conditions of Pogil Island and named it yŏnhwapusuhyŏng (shape of a lotus floating on water), there seems to be no doubt that he intended to consider the island as the ideal kilchi 吉地 (most propitious place) according to geomancy. Also, it is interesting that Kosan had a close relationship with the lotus throughout his life. He was born in Yŏnhwabang 蓮花坊, Lotus Flower District, currently Yŏnjidong蓮池洞 in Chongnogu 鍾路 區, Seoul; the house he inherited as the descendent of the Hae’nam Yun clan 海南 尹氏 was located in Yŏndong 蓮洞 (Lotus Village) in Hae’nam; and the place he lived the longest, from the prime of his life until his death, is Puyongdong (Floating Lotus Village) on Pogil Island. 48. Chŏng and Hwang, Pogilto Puyongdong Wollim, 11–12. 49. To create the sensuous effect of water, various water-treatment techniques were adapted at Seyŏn Pond. For more on this issue, see Sung Jongsang, “Kosan Yun Sŏndo Wollim-ŭi Saengt’aejŏk Sugyŏng Yŏnch’ul Kipŏp” (Ecological Water Treatment Techniques of Kosan Yun Sŏndo’s Garden), Hwan’gyŏng Nonch’ong (Journal of Environmental Studies) 43 (2005): 270–76. 50. Some may disagree about considering Seyŏn Pond as pibo because of its location, because it was built not at the main stream but at a tributary. While its location belongs to the very spot of oesugu, it is possible to consider Seyŏn Pond as pibo in that it can catch and keep the wind and the moisture from directly escaping from the upstream to the sea. Also noteworthy is that the forest on the artificial mound built by the soil dug out from Seyŏn Pond acts as the pibo forest at oesugu. On the reasons Kosan built Seyŏn Pond at the second stream instead of the main stream and its effect, see Sung, “Kosan Yun Sŏndo Wollim-ŭi Saengt’aejŏk Sugyŏng Yŏnch’ul Kipŏp,” 272–73. 51. Today, this can be considered as an equivalent of a comprehensive master plan or a schematic plan. This scheme of mental images came from the integration of the garden designer’s creative ideas and knowledge, and played a very important role in making a garden, especially since there were no drawings or theoretical books to refer to. The main parts of this mental image would have been the conceptual scheme on the spatial layout of the whole Puyongdong garden and the overall characteristic and meaning for each place. Kosan’s discerning eye for geomancy as well as his extensive knowledge and creative thinking on the land and its surroundings would have been integrated into it. Also, the scheme would have utilized “scattered perspectives,” thus it would have been formed and operated based on a diachronic and multiviewed comprehension and appreciation of nature. The scheme would have changed and evolved as time passed, based on situations and progress. For example, Koksu Hall, later constructed by his son Hakkwan, may not have been in Kosan’s original



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scheme, but was later integrated into the scheme. Compared to today’s design methodology, this kind of integrative, progressive process is worth attention. 52. This is described in the Pogiltoji, which Yun Wi, Kosan’s descendant, wrote seventysix years after Kosan’s death. 53. Min, “P’unggyŏng-ŭi Mihak,” 27. 54. This does not mean that the scheme of the motion experience of each place was neglected. Instead, Seyŏn Pond can be better enjoyed in motion, while climbing up to Oksodae or strolling along the earth mound, the two ponds, and the flat-stoned weir. For more on the scheme of motion experience at Kosan’s gardens, see Sung, “Chogyŏng Sŏlgye-e Issŏsŏ ‘Saengt’ae-Munhwa’ T’onghapchŏk Chŏpkŭn-e Kwanhan Yŏn’gu,” 153–54. 55. Henry S. Dreyfuss, an American industrial designer, found from research on airplane pilots that the most comfortable range of sight for human beings is 10 degrees while standing and 15 degrees while sitting, both in an angle of depression. Okeguchi, in Japan, used observations from Tokyo Tower to conclude that the most comfortable range of sight is about 8–10 degrees in an angle of depression. These examples denote that it is more comfortable for human beings to look down than to look up, and that the most comfortable angle is approximately 10 degrees of depression. For more, see Kang Yŏngjo, P’unggyŏng-e Tagasŏgi (Approaching Landscapes) (Seoul: Hyohyŏng Ch’ulp’an 2003), 173–79; Higuchi Tadahiko, Keikan-no Kozo: Randosukepu-to Shiteno Nihon-no Kukan (The Structure of the Scenery: Spaces in Japan as Landscapes), trans. Charles Terry, The Visual and Spatial Structure of Landscapes (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1988), 38–41; and Henry S. Dreyfuss, Designing for People (New York: Allworth Press, 2003). 56. According to the description by Kosan’s descendant Yun Wi, the kŏmun’go 거문고 (six-stringed Korean zither) was also played in the pavilion. It was a performance venue for producing and enjoying composite art made up of strings, dancing, boating, and singing, all sensuously harmonized with sunlight, the sky, and the water within the garden. A method of appreciation employing senses of both sight and hearing was utilized while enjoying the performance of singing, dancing, and boating. Considering there were additional elements, such as the fresh air and wind, clean water, and even a liquor called Kyŏng’okchu 瓊玉酒 that he brewed himself, it can be said to have been a synaesthetic feast using all five senses. For more details, see Sung, “Chogyŏng Sŏlgye-e Issŏsŏ ‘Saengt’ae-Munhwa’ T’onghapchŏk Chŏpkŭn-e Kwanhan Yŏn’gu,” 135–37. 57. Controversies continue as to the exact size and shape of the restored Seyŏn Pavilion. It is generally accepted that the restored Seyŏn Pavilion is larger than the original, considering the surrounding space and topographical condition. The original situation, such as the exact location and height of the pavilion, is also unclear. Thus, under such conditions, measuring the sight angle between the floor of the pavilion and the two stages may be meaningless. According to documents, Kosan often sat on the floor of Seyŏn Pavilion and enjoyed the wide-open view toward the sea in front of Hwang’wonp’o. But this view is impossible today, because of overgrown trees and newly built tall buildings. Furthermore, there has been too much topographical change, especially after reclaiming the land from the sea. 58. Carlson, Nature and Landscape, 13. 59. “Relational aesthetics” has been one of the hot topics of the modern art and design field since its birth at Europe in the 1990s. It advocates for “communication ideology” in the era of postcapitalism, where the spirit of love for human relationships and local community can be revived by taking note of locality while opposing modern art that supports

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globalization and capitalization. It tries to pay attention to participation and process itself by regarding the work not as a simple artistic object but as an agent for communication and interaction with surroundings such as the viewer and local society. If relational aesthetics focuses on social relationship, then geomantic aesthetics can be described as relational aesthetics that focuses on ecological communication between humans and nature. Attention to the local place, eliminating the distance between artist and viewer, seeking communication and dialogue with one’s surroundings, and integrating aesthetics into everyday life are some of the representative points of contact between two aesthetics. For more details, see Nicolas Bourriaud, L’esthétique relationnelle, trans. Simon Pleasance and Fronza Woods, Relational Aesthetics (Dijon: Les presses du réel, 2002); Mark Pennings, “Relational Aesthetics and Critical Culture,” in Proceedings of “Transforming Aesthetics” (AAANZ Conference) (Sydney: Art Gallery of New South Wales, 2005), 1–9; and Claire Bishop, “Antagonism and Relational Aesthetics,” October 110 (2004): 51–79. 60. This is clearly seen from following written descriptions, in which Kosan explained the reason for his adaption of Ŏbusasisa, a fisherman’s poem of all the year round: “There has been an old Ŏbusasisa; whenever reciting the poem, it lifts my heart with fresh energy and makes people meditate in solitude while ignoring worldly concerns. . . . It was neither matched well in melody nor assorted in meanings. . . . [I] adapted it to music and tuned the melody. . . . It is always pleasant thing to sing and play along with people while rowing together at a clean pond and large lake” (emphasis added). Yun Sŏndo, Ŏbusasisa, in Kosan Yugo (The Posthumous Manuscripts of Kosan), ed. Sŏ Chŏngsu. By singing Ŏbusasisa, the song of “making people to be alone while getting rid of earthly things,” Kosan tried to explain to himself the reason for and meaning of his life on Pogil Island, far from the rest of the world. It may be possible to assume that he adapted it gradually while he enjoyed such events. 61. Mun, Kosan Munhak Sangnon, 506. 62. Yun, Kosan Yugo, fasc. 1, “Changjaedo.” “Changjaedo” is a classical Chinese poem Kosan wrote in 1637, around that time he built Naksŏjae and named many scenic places on Pogil Island, such as Kyŏkcha Peak, Nang’ŭmgye, Hyŏkhŭidae 赫羲臺, Oundae 五雲臺, Mt. Misan 薇山, and Changjae Islet. 63. Mun, Kosan Munhak Sangnon, 499. 64. When he was dismissed, Li Yuan, a friend of Han Yu who was one of the eight great poets of the Tang-Song period, entered seclusion at Pangu, ridding himself government service. Pangu, a quiet and secluded valley, was praised as a good place for hermits to enjoy the life of plain pleasures. 65. Yun, Kosan Yugo, fasc. 1; my own translation into modern Korean with reference to the following: Yun Sŏndo, Kosan Yun Sŏndo Munhak Sŏnjip (A Selection of Works by Kosan Yun Sŏndo), trans. Yun Kyehyŏn and Pak Hobae (Kwangju: Chŏngmi Munhwasa, 2003), 112–13; Yun Sŏndo, Kosan Yun Sŏndo Sigajip (The Collected Poems by Kosan Yun Sŏndo), ed. Yun Chŏngha (Seoul: Hong’ikchae, 2003), 99–100; and Yun Sŏndo, Kugyŏk Kosan Yugo (Modern Korean Translation of the Posthumous Manuscripts of Kosan), trans. Lee Hyung-dae et al. (Seoul: Somyŏng Ch’ulp’an, 2004), 142–43. 66. While explaining traditional Korean beauty as meot 멋, a kind of grace, Cho Chihun summarized its characteristics as nonrefinement in formality; maturity, shapelessness, a rich vein of humor in expression; nonpracticality, reconcilability, moderation, and sanguinity in spirituality. Ko Yusŏp explained simple and honest aesthetics of Korean beauty in the adornment, calm and free from obsession and artless art.

11 Geomantic Landscape of a Sailing Boat An Examination of Cultural Ecological Links1

Hong-key Yoon

This chapter attempts to explain the cultural ecological links behind a type of geomantic landscape known as the “sailing boat.” The term cultural ecology is a complex one. It is a combination of the terms culture and ecology, which are well known to the public. By 1952, A. L. Kroeber and Clyde Kluckhohn had already cited 164 “important” definitions of culture for comments and classifications in Part II of their book.2 Edward B. Tylor must be credited for introducing the modern concept of culture. Tylor, in his 1958 book, defined culture as a “complex whole which includes knowledge, belief, art, law, morals, customs, and any other capabilities and habits acquired by man as a member of society.”3 Ever since Ernst Haeckel first defined “ecology” in 1866 as a study of “the relations of the organism to the surrounding exterior world,”4 there have been numerous definitions of ecology across disciplines ranging from biological sciences to social sciences. Even the term “sacred ecology” recently appeared in scholarly discourses.5 One of the earlier users of the term “cultural ecology” in geography was Marvin W. Mikesell, who argued that cultural ecology “differs from the earlier environmentalist tradition in geography” and that its common strategy is “to examine a particular link in a particular ecosystem, the connection, for example, between climate and agriculture.”6 This chapter, however, does not indulge in defining what “culture” or “ecology” is, or even what “cultural ecology” means. For use as a working definition I would like to suggest that cultural ecology refers to the specific relationships between a particular cultural behavior (e.g., folk belief, ritual, game, food, or other customs) and the local environment where the cultural behavior is operating. In Korean geomancy, landscapes are often personified or named after objects such as a sailing boat, plum flower, golden dragon, or lotus flower. Several large cities, as well as a number of towns, temples, and villages, are located in landscapes defined by geomancy as a sailing boat. The local people tend to treat such landscapes as if they were real sailing boats, by avoiding the digging of wells to supply 253

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drinking water, because such an action would be analogous to making a hole in the bottom of a boat. Consequently, people in such places were forced to use untreated river or stream water for drinking. The aim of this paper is to explore cultural ecological links as expressed in the geomantic landscape of a “sailing boat” and to explain the Korean cultural behavior of avoiding the digging of wells that is associated with such landscapes. This study is partially based on my fieldwork in rural Korea, especially the North Kyŏngsang Province, during 2008 and 2009. The first part of this chapter considers personified geomantic landscape patterns in general, and is then followed by a more focused investigation into the geomantic landscape of a sailing boat and people’s association with it. 1. The Formation of Geomantic Landscapes People who have a geomantic worldview believe that vital energy (生氣; shengqi) flows between one and three meter underground. This vital energy supports life, and all forms of life are supposed to be a condensation of vital energy.7 It is believed that vital energy can bless people with wealth and health, but that the energy only flows through the landscapes that have formed a geomantic harmony with auspicious landforms and the directions they face. It flows through so-called vital energy veins, like blood vessels in the earth. As a result, anyone who occupies or uses a place that has accumulated vital energy can benefit from the land. A place where vital energy can be extracted is called a geomantic cave 穴. If people occupy such a site by building a house for living people or graves for deceased ancestors, they can then reap benefits from the vital energy in the land. A geomantic landscape is a local landscape in which the surrounding environment is symbolically named after animate or inanimate objects. These kinds of landscapes form autonomously functioning systems where vital energy is introduced and accumulated for people to benefit from. These geomantic landscapes are generally known in Chinese geomancy as xing 形, ju 局, ge 格 or xingju 形局 (hyŏnggŭk in Korean, literally meaning a certain type or shape). For instance, the literal meaning of the Chinese geomantic term, woniuxing 臥牛形 (wauhyŏng in Korean) is “reclining cow type.” However, because the term “reclining cow type” in geomancy is exclusively used to denote a particular geomantic landscape type, I have translated it as “a geomantic landscape of a reclining cow.” Translating the meaning behind the term, rather than using the literal translation of each Chinese character in the term, makes for more efficient cross-cultural communication for a Western audience. These geomantic landscape systems function to accumulate and manifest vital energy to the occupiers. Thus they are considered to have the magical ability to bless or curse human beings. The types of blessings inhabitants may receive from a particular geomantic landscape type vary from receiving honor and accumulating wealth to having a prosperous family. These different types of blessing were gener-



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ally believed to be determined by the type of geomantic landscape. For instance the geomantic landscape of a sailing boat could bless an occupier of the settlement with material wealth, but that of a golden chicken could make a family prosperous for generations. Because identifying the type of geomantic landscape was crucial to identifying the type of blessings to be expected, people tended to view the geomantic landscape in light of the blessings they desired. A geomantic landscape required certain features to fulfill the harmony of the landscape. For instance, for a geomantic landscape of a reclining cow, the first requirement is to have a cow that is lying down: normally a mountain behind a village or a village site itself could be recognized as the cow. Then the villagers would identify which part of the mountain is the head, body, or tail of the cow. At the same time, not too far from that mountain, they may require a certain object that could act as a trough to feed the animal. A geomantic landscape of a sailing boat requires a landscape that could represent a boat and, in many cases, the place may also require all or some of the features associated with a boat, such as a mast, a rowing oar, water, or a mooring pier. After identifying the animate or inanimate objects symbolically represented in the landscape, the locals would try not to disturb the geomantic harmony of the local landscape. For example, building a road or a tunnel through the landscape of a reclining cow would be equivalent to killing the cow. If the landscape of a reclining cow was hurt by such actions, locals believed that the fortunes of the locality would be lost. This kind of human attitude toward nature implies that geomancy basically aims to have a stable and unchanging relationship between humanity and the environment. Geomancy is against sudden and drastic changes (development) to local landscapes. The local people will only accept the speed and kinds of changes that are suitable for the identified geomantic system. In this sense, I argue that people’s desire to have a stable state of the geomantic landscape promotes the equilibrium of people-environment relationships. 2. Types of Geomantic Landscapes in Korea In this section I examine some representative types of geomantic landscapes. In modern geomantic studies the Japanese geographer Murayama Chijun is perhaps the first scholar who surveyed and labeled geomantic landscapes. In his 1929 survey, he identified 174 types and their locations.8 The following table was constructed from the information provided by seventy county police stations. These represent five or six chosen counties from thirteen Korean provinces. A cursory view of the table reveals that the landscape of “the golden chicken sitting on eggs” is the most popular one, being used by thirteen counties. The next most popular was “the landscape of floating lotus blossoms on water,” used in nine counties. However, one of the most widely distributed patterns, “the landscape of a sailing boat,” is not reported by any of the police station reports. That is very interesting and strange. This may be a case of local Korean residents not providing certain information to

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Japanese colonial officials. In Murayama Chijun’s book, only one case of a sailingboat landscape is included. It is worth noting that this instance was not from a police report but from a traditional geomantic book called the Tosŏn Pigyŏl 道詵 秘訣 (Secret Geomantic Prophecies of Master Tosŏn).9 In 1974 when I did fieldwork on geomancy in Korea, I was able to “collect” a number of different types of geomantic landscapes. The following is a list of some of the well-known geomantic landscape types in Korea I collected through geomancers whom I met or from hand-written manuals of geomancy that have I acquired between 1974 and today.10 In literal translations, each term would include a translation of “-hyong,” “geomantic landscape,” which I left out to avoid redundancy. Chamdu-hyŏng 蠶頭形 (The head of a silkworm). Location: A village in Andong, North Kyŏngsang Province. Changgun Taejwa-hyŏng 將軍對座形 (A sitting general). Changgun-hyŏng 將軍形 (A military general). Chinma-hyŏng 陣馬形 (Horses in a battle formation). This produces many successful applicants for government examinations for many generations. Ch’ŏnghak P’oran-hyŏng 靑鶴抱卵形 (An azure crane sitting on its nest). The tomb site of Kwon Kŭn in Pangch’ungni, Saenggŭngmyŏn, Ŭmsŏnggun, North Ch’ungch’ŏng Province. Haengju-hyŏng 行舟形 (A sailing boat). Many Korean settlements claimed to be located in this type of geomantic landscape, because it is known to be good luck for accumulating wealth. The city of Andong and the city of P’yŏng’yang are of this type. Hwangnyong Togang-hyŏng 黃龍渡江形 (A yellow dragon crossing a river). Location: Odae, Annaemyŏn, Okch’ŏn’gun, North Ch’ungch’ŏng Province. Innyong-hyŏng 蚓龍形 (An earthworm-dragon). This results in poverty and dissolution of descendants’ dwellings for generations. Kahak Tŭnggong-hyŏng 駕鶴騰空形 (A flying crane). The grave site of an ancestor of the Kim family of Andong at Punsanmyŏn, Andonggun, North Kyŏngsang Province. Kallyong Ŭmsu-hyŏng 渴龍飮水形 (A thirsty dragon drinking water). Location: Kugaeri, Kŭmwangmyŏn, Ŭmsŏnggun, North Ch’ungch’ŏng Province. Kirŏgi-hyŏng 기러기形 (A flock of wild geese). Location: Modongmyŏn, Sangjugun, North Kyŏngsang Province. Kosa Kwaesu-hyŏng 枯蛇掛樹形 (An overhanging dead snake on a tree). From the story of Nam Sago, who mistakenly chose an inauspicious site as his mother’s grave site. Kŭmban Okpae-hyŏng 金盤玉盃形 (A gold plate and a jade cup). The tomb site of Yi Hangbok, Kwangch’on, Kŭmhyŏlli, Kasanmyŏn, P’och’ŏn’gun, Kyŏnggi Province.



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Kumgye P’oran-hyŏng 金鷄抱卵形 (A golden hen sitting on eggs). The grave site of an ancestor of the Chŏng family of Tongnae at Tongnaegun, South Kyŏngsang Province. Kŭmo Taksi-hyŏng 金烏琢屍形 (A golden crow pecking a corpse). Kwaedŭng-hyŏng 掛燈形 (A hanging lantern). The tomb site of Yun Kwan, Punsuri, Kwangt’anmyŏn, P’ajugun, Kyŏnggi Province. Maehwa Nakchi-hyŏng 梅花落地形 (A plum flower falling on the ground). Location: Wonju, Kang’won Province. Maengho Suyu-hyŏng 猛虎授乳形 (A tiger nursing a cub). Andŏgwon, Chŏnju City, North Chŏlla Province is said to be a landscape of this type. Mulcha-hyŏng 勿字形 (The Chinese character 勿 meaning “do not,” or simply “no”). A famous Korean yangban village, Yangdong, Kyŏngju City, is said to have been located in this type of geomantic landscape. This geomantic landscape was named because the mountain ranges surrounding the villages are spreading out as if in the shape of the Chinese character 勿. Nosŏ Hajŏn-hyŏng 老鼠下田形 (A rat entering a paddy field). Location: Hyanggyo, Andong, North Kyŏngsang Province. Odu-hyŏng 烏頭形 (The head of a crow). This results in poverty for generations, but a middle son passing government examinations. Ogong Ipchi-hyŏng 蜈蚣入地形 (A centipede entering the soil). The grave site of an ancestor of the Hwang family of the Changsu clan at Umaeri, Hwangganmyŏn, Yŏngdonggun, North Ch’ungch’ŏng Province. Ongnyŏ Sanbal-hyŏng 玉女散髮形 (A jade woman with disheveled hair). The grave site of an ancestor of the Song family of Ch’angnyŏng at Nungpau, Naesŏngmyŏn, Sangjugun, North Kyŏngsang Province. Ongnyŏ T’an’gŭm-hyŏng 玉女彈琴形 (A jade woman playing a stringed instrument). This results in abundant descendants. Paeg’a Sangch’ŏn-hyŏng 白鴉上天形 (A white wild duck flying toward the sky). Pibong Kwiso-hyŏng 飛鳳歸巢形 (A flying phoenix returning to its nest). Location: Asan’gun, South Ch’ungch’ŏng Province. Pibong P’oran-hyŏng 飛鳳抱卵形 (A phoenix sitting on eggs). Piran Koik-hyŏng 飛鸞顧翼形 (A flying mythical “ran” bird looking back over its shoulder). The grave site of an ancestor of the Cho family of the P’ung’yang clan at Changch’ŏnmyŏn, Sangjugun, North Kyŏngsang Province. Piryong Nongju-hyŏng 飛龍弄珠形 (A flying dragon playing with pearls). The tomb site of Cho Maeng, Songnŭngni, Chingŏnmyŏn, Yangjugun, Kyŏnggi Province. Piryong Sangch’ŏn-hyŏng 飛龍上天形 (A dragon flying to the sky). Piryong Tŭngch’ŏn-hyŏng 飛龍登天形 (A dragon rising to the heavens). Location: Asan’gun, South Ch’ungch’ŏng Province.

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Pokch’i-hyŏng 伏雉形 (A reclining pheasant). Pokho-hyŏng 伏虎形 (A reclining tiger). P’yŏngsa Nagan-hyŏng 平沙落雁形 (A wild goose landing on a sand beach). Sadu-hyŏng 蛇頭形 (The head of a snake). This results in wealth and respect for three or four generations. Sok’uri-hyŏng 소쿠리形 (A wicker basket made of bamboo). Kangjŏng Village, Yegang 2-ri, Koaŭp, Kumi City, North Kyŏngsang Province. Sŏnin Musu-hyŏng 仙人舞袖形 (A dancing immortal). Sujung Chu-hyŏng 水中舟形 (A boat in water). This results in quick achievement but also a quick loss of wealth and respect. Unggi-hyŏng 熊起形 (A rising bear). This results in descendants passing government examinations but being stuck in poverty for generations. Unjung Ch’owol-hyŏng 雲中初月形 (A crescent moon amid the clouds). This results in wealth, respect, and successful applicants for government examinations for generations. Wau-hyŏng 臥牛形 (A reclining ox). The grave site of the ancestor of the Chŏng family of Usan at Ihwari, Kongsŏngmyŏn, Sangjugun, North Kyŏngsang Province. Yacha-hyŏng 也字形 (The form of the Chinese character for “words”). The name of this geomantic landscape came from the shapes of the mountain ranges, which are similar to the Chinese character 也. Yŏnhwa Pusu-hyŏng 蓮花浮水形 (A floating lotus). King Kim Suro’s tomb, Kimhaeŭp, South Kyŏngsang Province. 3. Geomantic Landscapes as a System Comparable to a Mini-Gaia If a system can be defined as a meaningfully arranged totality of parts working together for a single purpose, then geomantic landscapes as outlined above can be considered a system. This is so because all parts of the landscape, including geomancy caves, White Tiger, Azure Dragon, and other elements are working together toward the single purpose of achieving good geomantic harmony to conserve vital energy. A geomantic landscape in return is a kind of self-contained functioning subsystem of a region comparable to a small Gaia within the Earth as Gaia. The Gaia hypothesis was suggested by James Lovelock in 1975.11 His hypothesis may represent a major departure from conventional Western scientific thinking. According to his hypothesis, the earth’s environmental systems, including the atmospheric sphere, constitute a living organism that can operate as a self-sustaining and self-managing system. A geomantic landscape operates as a self-contained and self-supporting environmental system in a similar way. I tentatively discussed this in an earlier article published in a Korean book, and now I wish to reiterate my argument for English readers.12



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The major points to compare and contrast between the two systems are as follows:

1. Both the Gaia hypothesis and the geomantic landscape system view the environment as a system. However, the Gaia hypothesis views the Earth’s environmental structure as a single organic system, having one purpose and one life. The geomantic landscape system, on the other hand, views only local environmental systems, such as a valley or a local mountain range, with the associated landscape features as a selffunctioning system. So the scale is different. With the Gaian perspective, it can be argued that in geomancy there are millions of mini Gaia-like systems.



2. The Gaia hypothesis views the earth as a single living organism. However, the geomantic system does not view the world as a single organism. It only considers the locally visible and recognizable landscape as a separate organic or inorganic entity.



3. One common feature is that both analyze and explain the environment (landscape) from a systems point of view: system, subsystems, and so on. All environmental elements are part of an environmental system. For instance, the air or animals or even the sea or human beings are subsystems of a Gaia system, according to the Gaia hypothesis. In geomancy the Azure Dragon, White Tiger, and Red Bird are subsystems of a geomantic landscape, as is a “sailing boat.”



4. Both the Gaia hypothesis and Chinese geomancy warn humans not to hurt environmental systems. Chinese geomancy treats a landscape named after an animate or inanimate object as if it is a real object. The Gaia hypothesis suggests that humans should “make peace with Gaia on her terms and return to peaceful co-existence with our fellow creatures.”13



5. However, one big difference between the two is that the Gaia hypothesis argues that Gaia knows how to survive and regulate to preserve itself. For instance it argues that the earth system produces enough ammonia to provide the living conditions for organisms in soil. However, in geomantic landscapes, such self-protecting power is not believed to exist. So the geomantic landscape is helpless in the face of external influences and modifications. That is why geomancy opposes development. 4. The Site Characteristics of the “Landscape of a Sailing Boat”

The geomantic landscape of a sailing boat, haengju-hyŏng 行舟形, in Korea is a boat-shaped landform on the riverside or seaside. This may be the most typical

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landform situation of such the geomantic landscape type. However, while doing fieldwork in Korea, I noticed that a number of the so-called sailing-boat landscapes were not located near sailable watercourses, and in some cases were even located in mountainous areas away from rivers. These landscape characteristics need a fuller understanding and study in wider varieties of landscape patterns. It is true that some more widely known examples of sailing-boat geomantic landscapes are associated with major rivers on the Korean peninsula. One example is the present-day North Korean capital, P’yŏng’yang. P’yŏng’yang is situated on the Taedong River, and the landscape surrounding the city is considered to be in the shape of a big boat. A legend says that during the Chosŏn dynasty locals were prohibited from digging wells because this would be comparable to drilling a hole in the bottom of the boat and sinking it. A sinking boat would imply that the fortune of the settlement would disappear. Some geomantic landscapes of a sailing boat are located on the sides of smaller streams. Although we can often trace back such sites to ferry crossings or mooring places for boats, some are not related to the activities of a sailing boat. Generalizing landscape characteristics of “sailing-boat” geomantic landscapes is therefore difficult; the places claiming to be such landscapes have diverse characteristics and any generalization has many exceptions. Another point to note in defining the characteristics of a sailing-boat geomantic landscape is that some places on a riverside or a seaside that are worthy to be classified as “a sailing-boat landscape” may not be identified as such. Instead, they may be recognized as something else, such as “a lotus flower on water.” The geomantic classification of landscapes sometimes appears to be confusing and creates difficulties for researchers attempting to reveal the logic behind the geomantic landscape taxonomy. However, a geomorphologist noted that many sailing-boat geomantic landscapes are located on so-called point-bar landforms on a meandering river (not the eroding side, the side of deposition).14 It is true that many of these landscapes are situated along the meandering curve of a river. However, even among such landscapes, not all are labeled sailing-boat landscapes. One well-known village, registered as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, is Hahoe Village, located on a point-bar and well suited to being a sailing-boat landscape. When I visited and stayed overnight at the village in 1964, a village elder told me that the landform of the village is round and platelike, and its geomantic landscape type is “a lotus flower floating on water.” However, I realized later that the village is also labeled as a landscape of a sailing boat. This may be a case of there being competing identities for the village’s geomantic landscape. The village had a small ferry crossing to the other side of the meandering river. This dual geomantic identity is a worthwhile research topic. A Sailing-Boat Landscape as an Auspicious System and Its Distribution A sailing-boat landscape is a system. Features of the landscape representing objects such as a boat, water, or a sail mast are the parts of geomantic system working



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Figure 11.1. A bird’s-eye view of Hahoe Village of Andong City that is almost encircled by a meandering river flow. Some argue that it is a geomantic landscape of a lotus flower floating on water, while others claim that it is a sailing boat: a contested geomantic landscape. Photograph by In-choul Zho, July 2013.

together to produce auspiciousness for the people who occupy the landscape. The landscape must at least have a place that represents a boat and water. In addition to these basic requirements, if the landscape has features representing a sail mast and anchor, its geomantic harmony is of a good quality, guaranteeing many blessings from the site. Koreans traditionally treated sailing-boat geomantic landscapes as auspicious settlement sites, as recorded in Murayama Chijun’s work: This [landscape] is mainly found in settlement sites. If the site has landscape features such as a helm, sail mast, and anchor, the place is very auspicious. If only one of these features exists, people considered it good. If the site has none of these features, the boat (the local landscape) will lose stability and may capsize or sink. Also at the site of “geomantic landscape of a sailing boat” one should not dig a well, for it is equivalent to making a hole on the bottom of a boat, which will cause an inundation of water into the boat. A “sailing-boat landscape” symbolizes a fully loaded boat with great people; it is effective in bringing wealth and people into such a place.15

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As in the above documentation and comments by Murayama Chijun, a sailingboat landscape is an auspicious geomantic landscape with features (parts) that are supposedly working together for the prosperity of a settlement. An example of a sailing-boat geomantic landscape that includes features representative of various parts of a boat is the location of the famous Hae’in Temple on the slope of Mt. Kaya. The first impression of the site may not be of a sailing boat, as it is a well-wooded mountain slope and not a riverbank, although a stream flows nearby. However, geomancers justified the site by arguing that Mt. Kaya itself is the body of a ship, its temple site is the boat cabin, the boulders on Mt. Nam (South Hill) are the oars for rowing, and the boulder behind the Changgyŏng Hall (Temple Archive of the Tripitaka Koreana Woodblocks) building is the sail mast.16 Let us look into people’s interpretation of the landscape and how they have attempted to fit into it or to compensate for its shortcomings. As I stated earlier, the geomantic landscape of a sailing boat is widely distributed in Korea and has a wide range of site characteristics. One possible reason for this wide distribution is that this type of geomantic landscape is well known for its effectiveness in accumulating wealth. That is why people must have been eager to label their settlement sites as sailing- boats Sailing-boat geomantic landscapes are also found in China, although

Figure 11.2. A Visitor Information Billboard painting of the Hae’in Temple [Haeinsa] showing the surrounding mountains and a river in front. Photo by In-choul Zho, 2009.



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I have not thus far encountered terminology referring to sailing-boat landscapes in Chinese geomantic classics. Anthropologist Ole Bruun noticed a boat-related type of geomantic landscape in China while undertaking his fieldwork near Nanjing. He related a legend regarding Liujiabie Village as a sailing-boat landscape near the famous Longchang Buddhist Monastery in the Baohua district of Jiangsu Province. He explains how Buddhist monks ended the good fortune of the village by erecting a pagoda as revenge because the village was opposed to the monks: “The monks, who were knowledgeable people, noticed that when seen from above the shape of the village resembled a large ship, with two giant trees in the middle of the village resembling masts. So the monks erected a four-cornered pagoda in the mountains above the village, resembling an anchor, intending to “stop the sailing of the ship.” It did not seem to have any impact, so the monks changed the pagoda to a larger eight-cornered structure. From that time the village started to lose its power and eventually shrank to a small hamlet.”17 I would like to suggest that “the geomantic landscape of a sailing boat” is a favorable choice as a village site in Korea and China. As discussed earlier, if a “geomantic landscape of a sailing boat” is equipped with several features, such as helm, sail, or anchor, it is auspicious. Even if it only has one of them, it is considered quite good.18 The settlements in such a landscape type attempted to describe their local landscapes in terms of a sailing boat. For example, they labeled part of the village as the body of a boat, and another part a helm or sailor. That is why in this type of landscape the locals were discouraged from digging a well because this would bring water into the bottom of the boat through the hole. A sailingboat landscape is probably the most popular and widely distributed geomantic landscape in Korea. However, to date there has been no comprehensive survey of sailing-boat landscapes in Korea. I have identified twenty-one sailing-boat based on my fieldwork and written sources. Cultural Ecological Links of a Sailing-Boat Landscape As I commented earlier, believers in geomancy treat the landscape of a sailing boat as a functioning system analogous to a real sailing boat. This means that the villagers of the sailing-boat landscape treat the landscape as if they are really sailing the settlement on water. If the locals found their landscape lacking a certain part of a boat, such as a mast, they attempted to make up for the shortcomings by erecting a post or stone pillar symbolizing a mast. This process of adding certain geomantic landscape features is an important aspect of human ecology in geomancy and the ecological link between human behavior and the local environment derived from the practice of geomantic ideas. These cultural ecological links can be classified into six categories, as in the following diagram (figure 11.3 on page 264). Let us now elaborate on each of the six main categories listed in the table.

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Avoiding the digging of wells (passive measures)

Restricting the number of households within a village (passive measures)

Cultural ecological links of “a sailing boat landscape”

Providing the mast (active measures)

Total prohibition of digging a well; consuming unprocessed river water Limiting the number of wells to the bare minimum Limiting the number of households within a quota Erecting a stone pillar representing a mast or mooring pier Erecting a steel or wooden post representing a mast

Preparing a pond in front of a village Floating the boat in the water (active measures)

Changing the course of water flow (to be confirmed)

Stabilising the boat (active measures)

Making a pile of stones

Anchoring the boat (active measures)

Putting an iron anchor into the river

Figure 11.3. Cultural ecological links in geomantic landscapes of a sailing boat in Korea. Drawing from H. Yoon, “Cultural Ecological Links in----” in Feng Shui (Kan Yu) and Architecture, edited by F. Reiter, 2011, 39.



1. Avoiding digging wells (passive measures)



2. Restricting the number of households within a village (passive measures)



3. Providing the mast (active measures)



4. Floating the boat in the water (active measures)



5. Stabilizing the boat (active measures)



6. Anchoring the boat (active measures)

The first category, avoiding digging wells (passive measures), is one of the most common responses to the geomantic landscape of a sailing boat. The present North Korean capital, P’yŏng’yang, is one of the best known examples of the geomantic landscape type that did not allow wells in the city. An eighteenth-century Korean geographical classic, T’aengniji, noted the prohibition of digging wells and states: “According to legend, the geomantic landscape characteristic of P’yŏng’yang is ‘a sailing boat,’ and its people were discouraged from digging wells. Previously people dug wells and soon after the city became plagued with big fires. They therefore buried wells. Now, whether it is government officers or private home owners, they all fetch water from the river for daily consumption.”19 The imposition of geomantic ideas on daily life was severe in P’yŏng’yang during the Chosŏn dynasty (1392–1910). Fetching water from the river for daily



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consumption implied that the citizens were consuming unclean river water rather than cleaner well water. The negative impact of geomancy on public hygiene would have been quite significant. Without knowing the geomantic ideas embedded in these landscapes, it is impossible to explain why some towns and villages did not dig wells while most other settlements in Korea did. The fact that people were forced to consume river water instead of well water for geomantic reasons establishes a special geomantic link between people and their local environment. Avoiding digging wells is a passive form of a response to a geomantic landscape, for such actions do not accompany active modification of the environment. There are two variations in this category: one is completely prohibiting the wells and the other is limiting the number of wells to the bare minimum. A total ban on wells in a settlement is quite a widespread phenomena. As discussed earlier, the capital of North Korea, P’yŏng’yang, apparently did not allow dug wells, at least for some time during the Chosŏn dynasty. Another example is recorded in Han’guk Minsok Chonghap Chosa Pogosŏ: Chŏlla Pukto-p’yŏn (A Comprehensive Report on Korean Folklore and Folk Customs: North Chŏlla Province). In the section on Mup’ung County, it is noted that (“Mup’ung village is a geomantic landscape of a sailing boat. Thus, the residents are prohibited from digging wells, because it would be comparable to drilling holes in the bottom of a boat. No natives of this village have become rich, but people who moved into here have become rich” p. 592. Another story about avoiding the use of wells and fetching river water for domestic consumption comes from near my home village, a riverside settlement called Kangjŏng. It is located at a ferry crossing point. When I was a little boy, some sixty years ago, I used to cross the river in a small oar-operated ferry boat, and I passed through the village where I encountered some villagers fetching water directly from the river and carrying water buckets into their homes. I asked why the villagers fetched water from the river and not from a well. The elders told me that it was because a village in a boat shape operates ferry boats and has no well. To confirm my old boyhood memories I carried out a fieldwork in the area on May 2, 2009. I met the village chief and two other village elders. The village chief informed me that the ferry crossing had ceased many years ago, even before the construction of the huge new concrete bridge over the river. He remembered fetching water from the river when he was a little boy. I interviewed the village chief first, alone, and then two village elders together on the same day. The following is a summary of my interview with them: HKY: Would you please tell me your village customs relating to the use of the river water for domestic use? VILLAGE CHIEF: Yes, originally there was one well near the present-day village hall. That well supplied water for the whole village. But before I was born the villagers filled in that well with big stones and then they

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started using river water for daily consumption. It was because villagers thought that drinking water from the well was the cause of having lepers from their settlement. To prevent leprosy from occurring in the village they stopped using the well. A few years ago when the county was doing road works we excavated the well site and actually we found the big stones showing where the well used to be. Those stones weighed several tons. If we had the misfortune that leprosy spread in the village, the whole village would perish. You think about it, if there is a leper in the village, do you think anyone from other villages would wish to communicate with us or would arrange marriages with our children? So they filled in the well and carried water from the river for drinking. So when I was a boy I fetched and drank the water from the river. VILLAGE CHIEF: We drank river water for a long time. After then, we didn’t dig the wells but we drilled a pipe and drew water by pump for a number of years. Only about ten years ago water began to be supplied from a distant city center. TWO VILLAGE ELDERS: Until about 40 years ago we drank river water, because we were told that drinking well water was a bad thing to do. Because of lepers in the village, we were told that [our ancestors] filled in the well and used river water. However, we do not remember in details why we did so. These are all handed-down stories. So when they drank river water, perhaps they felt that the village was better off. However, the people who told these stories are now dead and we do not know what happened in detail. From these interviews I was not able to confirm that the village was a geomantic landscape of a sailing boat. The village chief (in his late fifties) told me that he did not know much about geomancy and he did not remember hearing that the village site was the geomantic landscape of a sailing boat. However, I still think at least some people in the district recognized the village site as a sailing boat. My conjecture is based on the following two accounts. First, I remember having heard this, even if it is a poor memory from my boyhood, around sixty years ago. The second reason was that it was a ferry-boat operation site, and such places were common sites for the geomantic landscapes of a sailing boat). The ferry continued until the modern bridge was built. Even if people do not remember that the village site was the geomantic landscape of a sailing boat, I suspect that the geomantic quality of their settlement site encouraged locals not to drink water from the wells, but river water instead. However, one thing I learned from the interviews was that due to the occurrence of leprosy, a most feared disease in traditional Korean society, the villagers filled in the existing well and started using river water. The cultural ecological link of using river water instead of well water was triggered by a public health concern (the occurrence of leprosy), not the outbreak



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Figure 11.4. The rock where the villagers of Kangjŏng used to draw river water from for drinking and other domestic use. For geomantic reasons, the villagers forbade the digging of water wells. Photo by Hong-key Yoon, May 2009.

of fire or a flood or other natural disaster. Such disasters are frequently associated with some other places that avoiding digging wells for geomantic reasons. I speculate that in traditional society, people avoided sharing wells with lepers because they feared that they may be infected by the contagious disease. Lepers were often segregated from healthy people. However if leprosy occurred in the village and the suspected family with leprosy was fetching water from the common well, the villagers might have argued that by sharing well water with lepers, leprosy may spread further. They might even have thought that the well water was the source or cause of the leprosy in the village. So the villagers might have condemned the well with still (unclean) water as inauspicious and started using flowing (ever-fresh) river water. I have yet to test my reasoning and conjecture with further field observations. However, my field work has convinced me that the most common form of prohibiting digging wells in a Korean settlement was associated with sailing-boat geomantic landscapes. Some other geomantic landscape types, such as the “golden hen,” also discourage digging wells, for the practice was considered the equivalent of draining blood from a hen.

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In any case, the geomantic impact on drinking water quality may be an example of geomancy having an adverse effect on public health. The habit of drinking tea was not widespread among the commoners in traditional Korean society, but they did drink fresh water. Those who drank “fresh” water from the river were in fact drinking highly unhygienic and unfiltered water. I feel that the river water could have been the main source of contamination by some parasites and diseases. The cultural practice of avoiding the digging of wells and its impact on public health is an important topic for a further investigation, but it is beyond the scope of this study. A second subcategory is the practice of limiting the number of wells in a village. In some cases the inhabitants of a sailing-boat landscape did not completely prohibit the wells but instead limited their number to the bare minimum. The following excerpt from a story titled, “Oumni village, a Geomantic Landscape of a Sailing Boat” illustrates this case: When we were little boys there were only three to five wells in the whole village However, even before then there were only three or four wells. In the olden days, there was only one well in the lower part of the stream and three or four wells in the upper part. The reason why they limited the number of wells was that the landscape of the village resembled a sailing boat. Digging wells resembled bringing water into the boat through the holes on its bottom. So the villagers were not allowed to dig wells. Until recently the lower part of the village had only one well. People say that the upper part of the village was poor while the low part of the village was wealthy because they restricted the number of wells.20 The cultural ecology of limiting the number of wells in a settlement is also a passive response to environmental conditions. Why did they not completely prohibit having any wells when it is analogous to making a hole in a boat? Why did they only attempt to restrict the number of wells? These types of actions may be related to the level of the groundwater table or the limited supply of groundwater that was shared by all villagers. Perhaps villagers found that as additional wells were made the water in the existing wells diminished. Digging an additional well would then cause contention between villagers. When a water supply is limited to public wells, the distribution of water is on a more equal basis. If a private well was allowed in addition to existing public wells, such an action could create a water shortage for the public well users in the settlement. Restricting the number of wells might be an attempt to pre-empt these kinds of water distribution problems. However, I have not done fieldwork in these villages to test out my hypothesis. The cultural ecological basis for limiting the number of wells in a village should be systematically investigated and explained. The second category, restricting the number of households within a village, is about limiting the size of a settlement (passive measures). In my view geomancy



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definitely does not favor the idea of development or bringing drastic change to a settlement, but favors stability or equilibrium between the environment and people. This geomantic attitude is reflected in the practice of geomancy in Korea. I remember that villagers were not only careful about remodeling houses but sometimes feared such projects. Where possible they avoided remodeling their houses. If they had to, they would observe geomantic conditions that prescribed what and when to do the remodeling, fearing that regrettable consequences may follow if they did not. The villagers used to say that if no unfortunate things happened for several years after major repairs on a house, then they knew that the work had been done in a suitable manner. Geomancy championed environmental stability—maintaining stability rather than dynamic development was the philosophy of geomantic environmental management. Geomantic attitudes toward the environment result in rather “conservative” thinking with regard to development, and this is reflected in limiting the number of households in a geomantic landscape of a sailing boat. According to a legend from North Chŏlla Province, the villagers believed that the environmental conditions of their settlement could not support more than a certain number of households. This attitude is expressed in “The Legend of Sŏnch’angni”: The name “Sŏnch’angni” is derived from the original function of the village as a dock for boats arriving and departing. The Pukkol hilltop to the northeast of the village was the jetty where people moored their ships. The disposition of the people in this village is rough, noisy, and temperamental, because they inherited [these characteristics] from their ancestors of [untamed] seamanship. The village is divided into two sections; the western part is called Yangsŏn 陽先 (Sunny-side), and the eastern part is called Ŭmsŏn 陰先 (Shadow-side). The latter has over one hundred households but is not as rich as the former which has only forty households. The Yangsŏn sector dwindled in prosperity when its households exceeded forty; however, when the number of households fell below forty, the village regained its prosperity, and now household numbers never exceed forty. The reasoning behind this is that an overloaded boat will sink and, due to the village being a geomantic landscape of a sailing boat, it is believed that if the village is overloaded with an excessive number of households it will sink [not be able to support more than its capacity].21 This geomantic legend’s message about the maximum sustainable size of the village being forty households is an important one: the Korean equivalent to a “limit to growth” theory. The story suggests that any local environment cannot tolerate expansion of human settlement beyond its capacity. The auspiciousness of a place determines the geomantic environmental capacity of settlement size. Depending on its geomantic capacity, a place could be a small village, a town, or even the capital city. Chosŏn kings sometimes decreed a limit to development of

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the four guardian hills (i.e., Azure Dragon, White Tiger, main mountain, and table mountain) of Seoul. The surrounding hills, the boundaries for the local geomantic landscapes, were left unused and conserved as a greenbelt. The local government often enforced the law to protect greenbelt areas because it was believed that protecting them would bring fortune to the settlement. For each geomantic settlement residents attempted to maintain the auspicious size by avoiding drastic changes or expansion. Maintaining the stability of the environment was at the core of geomantic environmental management (regulating human-environment relationships). The primary categories discussed above represent a “Don’t do (passive, negative) type” response to the geomantic landscape, which resulted in villagers not digging wells and limiting the size of settlements. The third category involves providing the mast or pillar for a sailing-boat settlement (active measures). If any part of a sailing boat is thought to be missing, the shortcomings can provoke active or positive responses from local inhabitants to complement the landscape. If a mast is lacking, a symbolic mast may be erected. This is a quite different attitude toward nature from the previous two categories that recommended not modifying the landscape by digging no wells, for example. The active complementing and curing of landscape shortcomings has two subcategories: (1) the use of a large pillar as a metaphoric mooring place, and (2) the use of a pole as the mast of a ship. A post of stone, wood, or iron was used to represent the mast or a mooring post. These are good examples of villagers treating the geomantic landscape of a sailing boat (their village) as a real sailing boat. The following legend, titled “Sŏndolbaegi and the Geomantic Landscape of a Sailing Boat,” reveals how villagers attempted to compensate for a boat landscape that lacked a sail mast (translated main points only): “The stone pillar at Sŏndolbaegi 선 돌배기 is about ten cha (about 3.5 m) high. This village is in ‘a geomantic landscape of a sailing boat’ that is shaped like a floating boat. [People] erected the stone pillar to represent a mooring post of a boat, because the traditional saying is that a geomantic landscape of a sailing boat must have a post to tie the boat with a rope. Because a strong storm may cause an unmoored boat drift away, people prepared a stone pillar to moor the boat [the sailing-boat landscape].”22 The following field observation by Dr Won-Suk Choi is a good example of a village of a sailing-boat landscape with a stone pillar as a mast. Doing fieldwork in a Korean village that had a stone pillar representing the mast of a boat,23 he noticed that the village was not really near water on a river or stream bank and that the landscape was not at first glance like a boat. However, locals treated the village landscape as a sailing boat. The stone pillars might have shamanistic functions and in fact they became the center of the 15 January lunar New Year religious festival in 2009. At the festival locals offered sacrifices by providing good food to the pillar. They then divide the villagers into two groups and had tug-of-war games. After that they took the rope (called dragon rope) and put it around the stone pillar. The locals call this ritual clothing the village guardian spirit. I interpret this folk custom as a clear example of a hybrid ritual that originated from a combination of two belief systems, shamanism and geomancy. This village’s claim to be a geomantic landscape



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of a sailing boat, the erection of a stone pillar as a mast, and the shamanistic ritual centering on the pillar represents cultural ecological links between human behavior and environmental conditions in shamanistic and geomantic frameworks. In some cases, people believed that if a village in a geomantic landscape of a sailing boat did not have a natural landscape feature comparable to a mast, the village would perish. If no natural feature existed, they would raise a plain wooden post or a traditional folk-religious wooden post called a sottae 솟대 to act as a mast. Two examples of such cases are (1) Tulbami in Yulli, Puksammyŏn, Ch’ilgokkun,

Figure 11.5. The lonely sottae in Uishin Maŭl Village of Hadong County, South Kyŏngsang Province. The village faces a stream and represents the landscape of a sailing boat, but lacks a natural landmark to act as a sail mast. To compensate, the villagers erected this sottae as a sail mast. Photo by Won-suk Choi, 2013.

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North Kyŏngsang Province, and (2) Petdul Village, Kimch’ŏn, North Kyŏngsang Province.24 Villagers in the first case raised a plain post, while those in the second raised a traditional sottae pole, to protect the village from misfortunes.25 The sottae has wild geese carved from a long wooden pole on its top, and the locals called it a mast for the boat landscape of their village. The sottae is normally placed at the entrance of a village and comes from an ancient indigenous Korean folk custom. The sottae functioned as the guardian symbol fending off evil spirits. This pole was adopted in Korean geomancy as a symbol of a sail mast with the village landscape as a sailing boat. This represents an example of religious syncretism between ancient indigenous Korean folk customs and the newly introduced geomantic belief system. During the Chosŏn dynasty, Andong City set up long iron bars approximately ten meters high outside of the city’s south gate to act as a mast for the city because it is considered to be in a geomantic landscape of a sailing boat.26 The use of an iron post to represent a mast has not been reported as occurring at a village level. Villages used easy-to-acquire thin and tall wooden posts of pine to represent sottae—a religious ceremonial post as well as a mast for sailing-boat landscapes. During premodern Korea of the Chosŏn dynasty, small villages could not afford to erect a costly iron post as a mast, but big cities like Andong could. The use of a sottae as sail mast is another example of the close association between Korean indigenous folk beliefs and geomancy The fourth category is floating the boat in the water (active measures). When the geomantic landscape is not near a watercourse people would sometimes dig a pond or change the direction of watercourses bringing water into the village to metaphorically provide conditions to float the boat in the water. For example, Chinju City and Ch’angnyŏng City are two major urban settlements in the South Kyŏngsang Province that claim to be located in geomantic landscapes of a sailing boat. During the Chosŏn dynasty period both cities constructed a small lake to symbolically float their boats (the cities).27 A community might also change the pattern of a watercourse. An existing watercourse could be changed to flow to the direction they desired. I have not yet been able to find an example of such a case, but I suggest it as a hypothesis, until more fieldwork is carried out. The fifth category is stabilizing the boat from capsizing by piling stones (active measure). When people felt that their village (a boat landscape) was suffering from an imbalanced load of cargo and was in danger of capsizing, they stabilized the boat by piling up stones to balance the cargo load. This is extremely rare, but a well-known geomancy researcher recorded this case in Yŏng’wol County, Kang’won Province.28 The sixth category is anchoring the boat (active measure). One concern of the sailing-boat landscape was that the boat could sail away (symbolically) with the fortune of the settlement, and so the local people would attempt to anchor the boat. One way to do so was to mold a big iron anchor and drop it in the deep part of the river. This example is from P’yŏng’yang during the Chosŏn dynasty.



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5. Concluding Remarks The cultural ecological links in the geomantic landscape of a sailing boat have a single purpose—to create a stable relationship between people and the environment. When those who lived in the landscape refrained from digging wells in their settlements, they believed that the environment was in a stable, unharmed condition, which would bring happiness to the village. In such a way the local population tried to be in harmony with nature, to complement the shortcomings of nature and create auspicious living conditions for the people. Avoiding the use of wells and forcing inhabitants to use river water without hygienic treatment probably had a very negative impact on public hygiene. These six cultural ecological links of sailing-boat geomantic landscapes are evidence of geomancy being against the idea of development or changing places in dramatic ways. This is a new interpretation that I have not discussed elsewhere. Geomancy definitely favors unchanging stability between the environment and people. More extensive fieldwork is needed to support some of my interpretations of cultural ecological links in geomantic landscapes of a sailing boat. In this chapter we have examined how and why believers in geomancy treated landscapes as a personified system. These geomantic landscapes were often not in perfect condition, and people living in the landscape sometimes wanted to make up the shortcomings as a means of bringing good fortune to their settlements. The people employed many different measures to cure shortcomings. One significant and popular method was creating artificial hills or modifying landforms, as discussed in the next chapter. Notes   1. This chapter is a modified version of my conference paper, Yoon Hong-key, “Cultural Ecological Links in ‘The Geomantic Landscape of a Sailing Boat’” presented at the International Conference on Feng Shui (Kan Yu) and Architecture, held at Humboldt University, Berlin, on 9–11 November 2010 and printed in the conference proceedings, International Conference on Feng Shui (Kan Yu) and Architecture in Berlin, ed. Florian C. Reiter (Wiesbaden, Germany: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2011), 31–48.   2. A. L. Kroeber and Clyde Kluckhohn, Culture: A Critical Review of Concepts and Definitions, part 2 (Cambridge, MA: Peabody Museum, 1952) I, 39–79. The authors stated on p. 149 that the total number of definitions of culture was close to 300, if all additional definitions quoted were added from the footnotes and Part III of their book.   3. Edward B. Tylor, “The Origins of Culture,” Primitive Culture, vol. 1 (New York: Harper, 1958), 1.  4. K. Friederichs, “A Definition of Ecology and Some Thoughts about Basic Concepts,” Ecology 39, no. 1 (Jan. 1958): 154.   5. Fikret Berkes, Sacred Ecology: Traditional Ecological Knowledge and Resource Management (Philadelphia: Taylor & Francis, 1999).   6. Mikesell, “Cultural Ecology,” 42.   7. Guo Pu, Zangjing (The Classic of Burial), Neipian (The Inner Volume), in ­Chongwen

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Shuju Heikeshu (Chongwen Publishing House Heikeshu) (Wuhan: Hubei Chongwen Shuju, 1875), 1.   8. Murayama, Chosen-no Fusui, 265–75.   9. Murayama, Chosen-no Fusui, 264. 10. This list is a revised and enlarged version of my earlier works. Yoon, Geomantic Relationships between Culture and Nature in Korea, 66–70; and Yoon, The Culture of Fengshui in Korea, 100–1. 11. James Lovelock and Sidney Epton, “The Quest for Gaia,” in The Breathing Planet, ed. John Gribbin (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1986), 3–10. 12. Yoon, “P’ungsu Chiri-ŭi Hwan’gyŏng Sasang,” 66–67. 13. Lovelock and Epton, “Quest for Gaia,” 9. 14. Professor Park Sujin, an oral comment at a seminar on Korean geomancy, Sŏul Taehakkyo (Seoul National University), 13 May 2009. 15. Murayama, Chosen-no Fusui, 255. 16. This comment is based on Choi Won Suk, “P’ungsu Tapsa-p’yŏn” (Geomancy Field Trips), in Chayŏn-ŭl Ingnŭn Chihye (The Wisdom to Read Nature), Han Tonghwan et al., Kŏkuro Ingnŭn Ch’aek (Books Read Upside Down), vol. 16 (Seoul: P’urŭn Namu Ch’ulp’ansa, 1994), 180. 17. Ole Bruun, Fengshui in China: Geomantic Divination between State Orthodoxy and Popular Religion (Copenhagen: Nias Press, 2003), 195. 18. Murayama, Chosen-no Fusui, 255. 19. Yi Chung-hwan, T’aengniji (Seoul: Chosŏn Kwangmunhoe, 1912), 72. 20. Chŏng Sangbok and Yu Chongmok, eds., Han’guk Kubi Munhak Taegye 8–12: Kyŏngsang Namdo Ulsansi Ulchugun-p’yŏn (1) (Grand Survey of Oral Literature in Korea 8–12: Ulsan City and Ulchu County, South Kyŏngsang Province [1]) (Sŏngnam: Han’guk Chŏngsin Munhwa Yŏn’guwon, 1986), 443–44. 21. Han’guk Munhwa Illyu Hakhoe, ed., Han’guk Minsok Chonghap Chosa Pogosŏ: Chŏlla Pukto-p’yŏn, 592. 22. Cho Tong’il, and Lim Jae-hae, eds., Han’guk Kubi Munhak Taegye 7-2: Kyŏngsang Pukto Kyŏngju Wolsŏng-p’yŏn (2) (Grand Survey of Oral Literature in Korea 7-2: Kyŏngju and Wolsŏng, North Kyŏngsang Province [2]) (Sŏngnam: Han’guk Chŏngsin Munhwa Yŏn’guwon, 1980), 325–27. 23. Dr. Won Suk Choi conducted this fieldwork in Tomoru Village, Neyori, Puan County, North Chŏlla Province, in 2009. I am grateful for his sharing his fieldwork experience. 24. Kyŏngbuk Hyangt’osa Yŏn’gu Hyŏbŭihoe (Association of North Kyŏngsang Province Local History Research Societies), ed., Kyŏngbuk Maŭlchi (Local Gazetteers of Villages in North Kyŏngsang Province), vol. 2 (Taegu: Kyŏngsang Pukto, 1991), 567–68. 25. Choi, Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu-wa Pibo, 325. 26. Yŏnggaji (Local Gazetteer of Andong), fasc. 6, “Kojŏk” (Old Ruins), requoted from Choi, Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu-wa Pibo, 317. 27. Choi, Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu-wa Pibo, 298. 28. Choi Changjo, Han’gug-ŭi Chasaeng P’ungsu (Indigenous Geomancy in Korea) (Seoul: Minŭmsa, 1997), 176.

12 Geomantic Modification of Landforms The Idea of Chosan Pibo1

Hong-key Yoon

1. Introduction The geomantic idea of chosan pibo 造山裨補 concerns human attempts to modify landforms to remedy the shortcomings of imperfect geomantic landscapes. This has long been a noteworthy means of modifying the environment in Korea. The religious zeal of geomantic practitioners in Korea for the modification of landforms and vegetation to improve the local geomantic landscape is somewhat comparable to the European Christian idea, held by the medieval monastic monks, of humanity as a partner with God in improving His creation, (earth’s environment).2 During the Middle Ages in Europe, this idea played an important role in modifying the environment, because it led to the draining of swamps and the clearing of virgin forests to open up new farmland. The hard work of converting wilderness into fertile farmland was the task often embraced by the Christian monks who believed that their path to God was to improve the earth God created.3 Chinese geomancy (fengshui) is considered by some scholars to be a superstition, or the rudiments of natural science, or a quasireligious and pseudoscientific system.4 Nevertheless, this concept has had a tremendous impact on East Asian culture. For instance, Chinese geomancy played a critical role in the layout of major East Asian capital cities such as Beijing and Nanjing in China, Seoul and Kaesŏng in Korea, and Kyoto and Nara in Japan.5 However, this ancient system of divining locations cannot be easily classified or labeled using Western categories. It is not a clear superstition, religion, or science, but an art comprised of all three.6 2. Previous Studies on P’ungsu and Chosan Pibo Since fengshui (p’ungsu; geomancy in Korea) was introduced to Korea from China in antiquity, it has had a tremendous impact on the Korean mentality relating to 275

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the use of the environment. Geomancy was considered a key factor in the construction of Korean cultural landscapes such as traditional houses, graves, temples, city landscapes, and even in Korean literature and paintings. The influence of geomantic ideas on Korean culture is so profound that one must first understand the nature of geomancy and its role in Korean culture before trying to comprehend relationships between land and people in Korea. The Korean geomantic idea of pibo, or human attempts to remedy imperfect geomantic landscapes, was an important part of the geomantic system. It was an especially important means of modifying the environment during the Koryŏ 高麗 (918–1392) and Chosŏn 朝鮮 (1392–1910) dynasties. Despite this there have been only a small number of papers on the topic, whether in English or Korean. As a part of my 1976 book, I explored modifying landforms and establishing small groves for geomantic purpose in settlements.7 This was one of the earliest discussions on the geomantic idea of pibo in Korea written in English. Since then no significant literature on the subject has been published in English. In Korean and Japanese, a few significant works on p’ungsu discussed this subject. Murayama Chijun 村山智順 published a monumental work on Korean geomancy, Chosen-no Fusui (Geomancy in Korea), written in Japanese in 1931. This pioneering work represents modern scholarship over a wide range of topics on Korean geomancy. In his work Murayama included a brief discussion based on primary data from pibo (Murayama, 772–800). In Korean, Choi Changjo’s (1984) Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu Sasang (Geomantic Thought in Korea) is the most important monographic work introducing geomancy to a general readership in Korea. However, in that book, the Korean geomantic idea of pibo is only briefly mentioned. The most significant work on the subject of pibo in Korea was published recently by Choi Won Suk. In his book (2004), Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu-wa Pibo: Yŏngnam Chibang Pibo Kyŏnggwan-ŭi Yangsang-gwa T’ŭksŏng (Geomancy and Geomantic Reinforcement in Korea: The Patterns and Characteristics of Geomantically Reinforced Landscapes in Kyŏngsang Province), he documents and explains the practice of the geomantic modification of landscape in Korea, especially the southeastern part of the Korean Peninsula, Kyŏngsang Province. Overall, literature on the geomantic idea of pibo is limited and remains mainly descriptive. A perfectly auspicious site without any shortcomings is extremely rare. As a geomantic proverb says, “there are no auspicious sites without any flaws.”8 Pibo may be defined as the various methods people practicing geomancy use to remedy the shortcomings in the natural environment of a geomantically auspicious landscape.9 Such methods include man-made hills, establishing groves, changing the direction of water flow, assigning more geomantically appropriate names to places, building Buddhist temples and pagodas, and so forth. These constitute the different types of pibo. For example, people’s attempts to enhance the geomantic quality of a watercourse outlet by establishing groves is known as sugu pibo 水口裨補 (water outlet reinforcement) or sup pibo 숲裨補 (reinforcement with groves). If the geomantic shortcomings of a place are compensated for by constructing man-made hills or



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pagoda-shaped stone piles, it is called chosan pibo (literally, geomantic reinforcement by constructing mountains), or geomantic modification of a landform with man-made hills. This paper aims to examine the most important form of the Korean geomantic idea of pibo, that is, chosan pibo. It will also highlight the geomantic idea of pibo as a counterpart to the Western idea of humanity as a modifier of the environment (the idea of humanity as a geographic agent), particularly the idea of humanity working in partnership with God to manage God’s creation. This paper consists of three key components: a discourse on the nature and practice of chosan pibo, historical documentation of examples of this practice in Korea, and an evaluation and characterization of the geomantic idea as a Korean counterpart to the Western idea of humanity as a modifier of the environment. Before beginning these three discussions, a general comment on the geomantic conditions of an auspicious site and the basic nature of pibo is in order. 3. The Three General Premises of the Geomantic Idea of Pibo An auspicious place (more specifically, its landform) is perceived to represent, and is often named after, an inanimate or animate object or being such as a flying phoenix or a reclining cow. People may treat such local landscapes as if they were indeed the very same as the actual object or being. On an auspicious geomantic site, the occupant gains access to vital energy 生氣 (shengqi in Chinese), which is considered a blessing. Human-made artificial means of remedying the shortcomings of the natural landscape in geomantically auspicious sites are known as pibo, which may well be the abridged form of pibo p’ungsu 裨補風水, or literally the “geomantic reinforcement of [the shortcomings of a landscape].” These modifications of landscape through the various means of the geomantic idea of pibo were largely based on the following three geomantic ideas:

1. A place with geomantically qualified landforms and orientation (facing direction) conserves auspicious energy (shengqi), and the auspiciousness of the land is available to the people who occupy it.



2. The auspicious energy of a place can either be destroyed or recovered by human actions.



3. Most auspicious places are not perfect, but minor shortcomings can be overcome by human agency by modifying landforms and vegetation cover to maximize the benefits from the land and more effectively conserving its vital energy.

For these three reasons, people who practiced geomancy occupied auspicious places and changed them when they were not perfect. However, in some cases,

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Koreans used a geomantic landscape without remedying its weakness, even though the weaknesses were readily apparent. This probably occurred when the common people lacked the ability or means to compensate for the site’s shortcomings by changing surrounding landforms. In such cases, their failure to remedy the shortcomings was cited as a reason for any misfortune that fell on the settlement. The human modifications of landforms (landscapes) to make up for geomantic shortcomings were carried out by various levels of government, such as central, provincial, and county administration offices, or by nongovernmental organizations such as village communities. The principal geomantic means of compensating for shortcomings at an auspicious site can be classified into the following three categories:

1. People built religious structures such as temples and pagodas or monuments and other structures to symbolically compensate for the shortcomings of a landscape. In this case, there was little change in the landforms themselves.



2. People modified the natural landscape to make up for geomantic deficiencies by creating man-made hills, planting trees, protecting forests, changing the direction of watercourses, building dikes, and so forth. In cases like these, local landscapes could be considerably altered.



3. Other methods adopted included symbolic gestures such as naming objects and places to reinforce favorable geomantic conditions without physically modifying the landscape. For example, if a geomantically important mountain was conceived to be a “flying phoenix,” but there were no surrounding objects that could act as “food” for it, people may have named a suitable place nearby, “the village of bamboo groves,” for bamboo was regarded as the main food source for phoenixes.10 If elevated ground was needed but the ground was low lying, the low ground might be named the “Great Hill.”11 In other cases, people themselves symbolically functioned as “landform” objects by becoming part of the landscape to make up for the shortcomings of the landform. In the story of the Chongchon Marketplace, people established a periodic market that was held every five days to compensate for the shortcomings of a geomantic landscape that had been named the “Army General.” The place had a majestic mountain that acted as an army general, but had no natural objects that could act as soldiers for the general. To compensate for this shortcoming, the descendants of the grave that was located in the army general’s command shifted a nearby market to the front of the mountain so that people in the market could function as soldiers for the tomb.12

In practice, people have used all three ways to make up for the shortcomings of an auspicious place. This paper explores a particular type of the second category of pibo, the geomantic idea of chosan pibo, the construction of man-made hills to



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compensate for the geomantic shortcomings of a landscape. This particular type of pibo is a popular method and made a significant physical impact on the environment. In comparison, the third category (method) of pibo, which includes changing place names, had minimal physical consequences for the landscape, and the effect of the first category on land was limited to the establishment of structures such as temples and monuments. 4. Historical Examples of Chosan Pibo The locations of chosan or man-made hills are recorded in historical documents as well as in legends reflecting geomantic beliefs. Some of these man-made hills still exist as mounds of earth with trees or small piles of stones on top (see figure 12.1).

Figure 12.1. An early photo of a chosan pibo or a hill artificially constructed for geomantic purposes in Cheju Island at the southern end of the Korean peninsula. The local people call it a t’ap, which literally means “a pagoda.” Photograph by Professor David J. Nemeth, near Iho Ri and adjacent to Cheju City, 1981.

Figure 12.2. Another example of pagoda-type stone pile or geomantically built artificial hill from Kŭmsan County, South Ch’ungchong Province, Korea. This type of geomantically built stone pile is widespread in the Korean Peninsula. Photograph by Hong-key Yoon, 2006.

Figure 12.3. Human-built hills (earth mounds) on either side of the entrance to a village in Kŭmsan County, South Ch’ungchong Province, Korea. Photograph by Hong-key Yoon, July 2006.

Figure 12.4. A close-up view of the left-hand human-built hill shown in figure 12.3. Photograph by Hong-key Yoon, July 2006.

Figure 12.5. The remnant of a human-built hill near the site of the former Sunhŭng County seat, North Kyŏngsang Province, Korea, which had been turned into farmland, is an example of enhancing the size and effect of a hill by planting pines on it. Photograph by Choe Wonsuk, July 1998.

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According to Sinjŭng Tongguk Yŏji Sŭngnam 新增東國輿地勝覽 (Newly Revised Edition of the Augmented Survey of the Geography of Korea),13 man-made hills existed within the city wall of Seoul, the capital of Korea. The historical record clearly suggests that they were built to conserve the vital energy of the land, implying a geomantic purpose. The book states: “Human-built hills 假山 [kasan in Korean; literally, ‘fake mountains’] are located to the northeast of the Hullyŏnwon 訓練院 [Military Training Ground] inside the water discharge gate of the city wall, one is at the south of the river and the other is at the north of the river. The hills were made by piling up soil and for the purpose of holding [accumulating] the vital energy of the land 地氣 [chigi in Korean]” (No Sasin et al., 4). We can read a more vivid description of these man-made hills in the Tongguk Yŏji Pigo 東國輿地備考 (a revised version of the geographical work mentioned above by an unknown author of in the early years of King Kojong’s reign (1865?); vol. 2, 32): The human-built hills are located to the northeast of the Hullyŏnwon inside the water discharge gate of the city wall. One is located south of the river and the other is to the north of the river. The mountains were made by piling up earth and for the purpose of accumulating the energy of the land. In the year of Kyŏngjin 庚辰 during the reign of King Yŏngjong 英宗, willow trees were planted on both sides of these hills to prevent landslides. Now the place is called the Singmokso 植木所 [Bureau of Planting Trees] and is under the administration of Ŏyŏngch’ŏng 御營廳 [Royal Guards Command].14 These two historical sources clearly document the fact that two earth mounds were made in Seoul for geomantic purposes and were well preserved until the latter part of the nineteenth century. However, these mounds do not exist presently, for this area has been overtaken by urban sprawl and is now part of the built-up area of Korea’s densely populated capital city. In rural areas and smaller towns outside Seoul, a number of historical documents and legends illustrate the fact that many man-made hills were constructed to remedy the shortcomings of the geomantic harmony of landscapes. The historical records such as local gazetteers or old maps often clearly confirm the locations of chosan or “human-built hills.” A good example of such a case (figure 12.7) appears in Yŏnggaji 永嘉志, a Chosŏn dynasty local gazetteer of Andong County, Kyŏngsang Province, published in 1608: Three human-built hills in Anmakkok 安莫谷: one is located on the road, west of East Stream about twenty steps outside the North Gate of the city wall, and another is on the road west of the stream. A third is located to the east of the great road beyond the stone Buddha image, about three ri 里 [ri or ni in Korean; li in Chinese; 4 km] from the North Village out of



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the North Gate. These three human-built hills remedy the emptiness of the entrance to Pukkudong Village. Four human-built hills inside the city wall: one is located to the west of the public hall in front of the county office, and was built for the officers and the people. Another is in the middle of the great road in front of the Yŏngch’ŏng 營廳 [headquarters of the provincial governor], and was built for slaves of the government. The third one is located to the east of the sach’ang 社倉 [village granary] and was built for the common people. These three human-built hills are just like three tables. The fourth one is an island in the middle of the big reservoir to the south of the sach’ang. Convicts have been banished there since ancient times. The human-built hill in Samga 三街 [Three Avenues] is located about twenty steps from the West Gate of the wall, where three roads meet. . . .  The human-built hill in Yulgongni 栗谷里 is located at the entrance of the village and was built to block the direction of the village facing toward the city office. It is said that it was built to [geomantically] reinforce the old tomb inside the village. . . .  Two human-built hills in Sinseri 新世里. One is located beside the great road near Mt. Yŏngnam. The other is located at the edge of the eastern forest, beside the great road in the upper part of Kyŏnhang 犬項 below Pohwang Temple. The human-built hill in Yurim 柳林 [Willow Forest] is located between the two watercourses in Posonghang. The human-built hill in Chondang is located to the south of Ŏnjŏngni, west of Moun Pavilion 慕雲亭. Because the landform of the [Andong] County is the shape of “a sailing boat,” this human-built hill was made in the shape of an island to moor the boat. Because people buried gold and iron there, it is said that metal energy became prosperous. A long time ago, an officer of the county had a desire to obtain the metal and tried to excavate it. While he was digging, the clear sky became dark and a great wind blew and rain poured in torrents so that the officer was unable to excavate the metals. The human-built hill in An’gi is located to the west of Yong’un Pavilion in front of the house of the spirit [i.e., shamanic shrine]. Elm and willow trees have been planted to protect the north village. The human-built hill in Kyŏnhang is located to the east of the great road, west of Yŏngch’un Pavilion 迎春亭. On the day of Ipch’un 立春 [Lichun in Chinese; the official beginning of spring], an officer was selected to perform the worship ceremony for the East Emperor 東皇 [Donghuang in Chinese; Tonghwang in Korean]. On this ceremonial day, people prepared seeds of the five grains in containers and placed them on it [i.e., the human-built hill]. The people predicted the harvest of the coming year by observing the [degree of dryness] of the seeds.

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Five human-built hills in Ilchik 一直: All of these are located about two ri 里 [8 km] from the west village of the county to make up [for the deficiency of] emptiness. Two human-built hills in P’ungsan 豊山: Both are located about two miles south of the hyŏn 縣 [sub-county-level district office]. They were made to remedy the emptiness of its distant area.15

Figure 12.6. A written record showing the locations of geomantically built artificial hills in the Walled City of Andong, Korea, and its surrounding district. Reproduced from Kwon Ki (1608), 1899.



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Figure 12.7. Map of the Walled City of Andong, Korea and its surrounding district. Reproduced from Kwon Ki (1608), 1899.

As shown above, the county of Andong had over twenty man-made hills, presumably earth mounds, which served to make up for shortcomings of local geomantic harmonies. These man-made hills, though small, would have noticeably modified the landscape of the county, and to build them required much community effort and many resources. These man-made earth mounds do not exist any more,

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but a 1970s research paper reported that the local elders of that time were able to recollect the locations of most of these hills.16 Other counties also have oral or written records concerning the creation of man-made hills. “The Story of the Flying Phoenix Mountain” is a legend informing us of the existence of “human-built hills” from Sŏnsan County, North Kyŏngsang Province: Mt. Pibong 飛鳳山 partly encircling Sŏngju County seat is a geomantic landscape of a “flying phoenix.” The background hill of Kyodong village in the east and the background hill of Nosangdong village in the west are the two wings of the phoenix and the mountain slope extending to the back side of the county office is the body and neck of the bird. The office is located beneath the main mountain, which is connected to the wings (Azure Dragon and White Tiger). Because the local people were concerned about the possibility of the phoenix flying away, they installed a bird net on Mt. Taehwangdang 大皇 堂山 in Koamyŏn 高牙面 [County] and called the village “Mangjangdong 網障洞” [literally, “Bird Net Village”]. They named the front mountain of Mulmok 물목 “Mt. Hwang” [hwang 凰, or huang in Chinese, means a male phoenix while pong 鳳, or feng in Chinese, means a female phoenix] to settle the female phoenix by providing a male partner. In addition [to settle the phoenix], the people provided five phoenix eggs by creating five human-built hills, since a phoenix was thought to lay five eggs at a sitting. All except one of the hills gradually decomposed.17 According to the editor of the Sŏnsan’gunji (Local Gazetteer of Sŏnsan County), although the man-made hills in this legend gradually eroded, two remained until 1966, when they were completely flattened by the Korean government’s efforts to reorganize the farmland to conform to a grid pattern.18 Apparently, when people perceived a mountain to be a phoenix, they usually tried to provide it with a nest to hold the phoenix there. A legend called “The Story of the Phoenix’s Egg Nest,” from Chinju City, supports this practice: There is a small hill called “Phoenix’s Nest” in Sangbongsudong, Chinju City. The hill faces Mt. Pibong, the Flying Phoenix Mountain. The people of Chinju created a small hill by piling earth into a mound with a depressed peak, like a bird’s nest. During the Koryŏ period, a number of highly admirable persons were born to the Kang family of Chinju City. This achievement was attributed to the benefits received from the phoenix rock on the peak of Mt. T’aebong 太鳳山, or the Great Phoenix Mountain. When this news reached the capital of the nation, the royal court decided to block the excessive prosperity of the family. The court forth-



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with dispatched a messenger to Chinju and ordered the people to call the mountain Mt. Pibong, the Flying Phoenix Mountain [instead of the Great Phoenix Mountain], which implied that the phoenix had already flown away from the city. After the mountain was called Mt. Pibong, no more famous descendants were born to the family. Later on, the family decided to bring back the phoenix by providing it with a nest on the opposite side of the mountain. Until recently, the Kang family of Chinju repaired the nest every year.19 As the above legend reveals, it is possible that the small hill in the residential area of Sangbongsudong in Chinju City is man-made. Another example of the modification of an area to enhance geomantic harmony is that of piling up stones to artificially extend a mountain range, as shown in a legend, “A Stone Pile for a New Village”: “There is a stone pile at the end of the low hill at the entrance of Orongi 梧麓里 village. About two hundred years ago, when Master Nobong established the village, he observed the landform of the village and found that the tail of the Azure Dragon, which embraced the village, should be longer. Therefore he extended the tail by building a stone pile.”20 As we have seen in the records of local gazetteers and oral traditions, manmade hills of varying types, including small mounds of earth and stones, were sometimes created to satisfy the geomantic principle that mountains (hills) should encircle an auspicious place to retain its vital energy. There are numerous cases of man-made hills called chosan or kasan created for geomantic purposes all over Korea. According to Dr. Won-suk Choi’s careful study, at least 178 settlements in the Yŏngnam region (comprising North and South Kyŏngsang Provinces in the southeastern part of the Korean peninsula) still have or once had one or more manmade hills built for geomantic purposes.21 These artificially created earth mounds and piles of stones are mostly small and only symbolically make up for the shortcomings of the geomantic landscapes. It is fascinating to learn that in Korea numerous construction works of various sizes were undertaken by people to modify landforms and thus fulfill the geomantic harmony of the place where they lived. Although man-made hills and dikes have been built and the direction of watercourses has been changed, the real impact of such activities on the Korean landscape has been relatively insignificant compared to such activities as creating cities and establishing farmland. Yet all these activities have also been influenced and restricted by the idea of geomancy. 5. Characteristics of Chosan Pibo Chosan pibo is a particular means of remedying the shortcomings of a geomantic landscape by building chosan (literally, artificial mountains), small man-made mounds of earth or stones. No matter how small they were, however, the creation

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of man-made hills normally required financial resources and hard labor from the local people. Therefore, the geomantic modification of the environment was largely carried out by government or community organizations rather than individual persons or at the family level. It is conjectured that in some cases government-owned slaves were used to construct these man-made hills for geomantic purposes, while in other cases, commoners were drafted to do the work. The following discussion highlights the general characteristics of chosan pibo. The Modification of the Landform Was Mainly Symbolic The geomantically created chosan were often small and represented symbolic gestures made to remedy a geomantically lacking landscape. These critical spots were often placed on the open-field side of a village or town on the opposite side from the background hills of a settlement. Man-made hills were also often placed at the junction of two streams merging. In geomancy it is desirable to not have these water junctions exposed in view of the village. Koreans often constructed chosan to screen off these junctions, but in fact they were often no more than pagoda-shaped piles of stones or small mounds of earth. Another location needing man-made hills is a weak spot (low or depressed part) of a background hill range that is supposed to encircle a settlement to form a horseshoe shape with an Azure Dragon hill range and a White Tiger hill range to each side. The most majestic man-made mountain for geomantic purposes must be Jingshan 景山, located behind the Forbidden City in Beijing, China. The man-made mountain was initially created by piling up earth in the twelfth century, but was greatly enlarged in the fifteenth century under the Ming dynasty to its present height of forty-three meters. The imperial palace in Beijing is situated on a plain with no background hills nearby. However, an auspicious site in geomancy should normally be located at the foot of a mountain. Thus, in terms of geomancy, the Chinese imperial palace critically lacked a main mountain, as well as an immediate background hill. To make up for the geomantic shortcomings of the palace site, the Chinese imperial court used human labor to create Jingshan to act as the main mountain for the palace. A tourist who views Jingshan without knowing its historical background may be forgiven for assuming that the grand scale of the hill is of natural origin rather than of human creation. The hills in Korea created for geomantic purposes are not as grand and majestic as Jingshan in Beijing. Korean chosan located in Seoul, as well as in local districts throughout Korea, are relatively small and symbolically made up for the shortcomings of geomantic landforms in a local landscape, as shown in the figures 12.2 and 12.5 (Kŭmsan and Sunhung). Thus, the Korean chosan were generally too small to be called hills or mountains. The earth mounds or stones were formed to resemble a small pagoda, and were typically less than ten meters in diameter and only three or four meters high. Nevertheless, people referred to these small earth mounds or



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stone piles as mountains and sometimes treated them as if they were real mountains for geomantic purposes. Another way to remedy the so-called emptiness of a landscape was to establish a grove of trees instead of creating a man-made hill. The junction of two steams is called the mouth of the water flow, and it is desirable to screen off this junction from a settlement with a low-lying hill. When no such hill existed, people often established groves of trees as a substitute. Establishing a grove of tall trees may have offered two advantages over constructing hills—it was easier and less expensive to create, and from a distance, it looked like a much bigger hill than a man-made earth mound reasonably could. That is probably why pines were sometimes planted on top of man-made hills.22 When people found that a certain part of a flat landscape should have been more elevated (hillier) they sometimes called the flat part of the place a hill, to fully comply with the criteria of a more auspicious place. This naming was a psychological compensation for the flatness of the landscape and a nominal or a symbolic acknowledgement of the emptiness of the place, despite the fact that no physical alteration of the landform had taken place. In this sense, pibo functions as a means of environmental psychological treatment and a mental compensation for the lack of ideal environmental conditions in a place. In summary, the geomantic modification of the landscape through the creation of man-made hills was generally a symbolic rather than physically significant modification of the natural landform. The Construction Was Undertaken by the Government and Community, Not by Individuals The modification of landforms was carried out at various levels of government office, such as central, provincial, and county administration offices. Most of these construction works must have relied on laborers drafted from the common people. At the smaller village level, work seems to have been carried out by nongovernmental groups such as village organizations or clan networks. Thus, these construction projects (civil engineering works) were government or public projects, rather than private ones carried out by individual persons or single families. Making earth mounds or establishing a forest grove was too big a project and normally involved the use of public land (common land owned by the local community or government). Pibo projects were normally not suitable for an individual person to handle. During the Koryŏ and Chosŏn dynasties there were government bureaus for the geomantic modification of landscape.23 Historically speaking, temporary bureaus were sometimes created to regulate various geomantic affairs during special occasions, such as the construction of royal tombs for the deceased kings, while some permanent offices of geomancy were responsible for geomantic affairs in general environmental management.24

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6. The Significance of the Geomantic Idea of Pibo as a Geographic Agent in the History of Humanity An important task of cultural geography is to document and explain the nature relationships established by different cultural groups. The human modification of the environment or landscape is an important theme in cultural geography, and many scholars have explored different aspects of it. A number of works are available on the idea of humanity as a modifier of the environment in Western civilization, from the atmospheric environment to the urban environment. Clarence J. Glacken (1967), in his monumental work Traces on the Rhodian Shore, admirably expounded on the Western idea of humanity as a modifier of the environment from ancient times until the end of the eighteenth.25 However, the East Asian version of this idea has not yet been systematically explored. The geomantic idea of constructing man-made hills to improve a geomantic landscape may well be one of the most suitable East Asian ideas to be compared and contrasted with the Western idea of humanity as a modifier of the environment. This geomantic idea is concerned with any human attempts to remedy imperfect geomantic landscapes, and chosan pibo is a subset of the geomantic idea of pibo in general, which is defined as “any means of human attempt to improve the imperfect natural settings of a geomantic landscape.”26Before describing the geomantic idea of pibo as a Korean (East Asian) counterpart of the Western idea of humanity as a geographic agent, the nature of the Western ideas relating to relationships between culture and nature will be briefly discussed along the lines of Glacken’s discourse. In his book, Glacken explored three important Western ideas relating to culture-nature relationships: the idea of a designed earth, the idea of environmental influences over humans, and the idea of humanity as a geographic agent. First, the idea of a designed earth was very much influenced by ancient mythology, philosophy and the Bible.27 This idea assumes that the natural environment and environment-humanity relationships were designed by an artisan deity. It is one of the most important ideas in the Western tradition advocating human dominion over nature. Second, although Glacken presented environmental influences as a separate idea, it is in a way a subset of the idea of a designed earth, because the environment was viewed as God’s own creation and therefore God controls and influences human beings through the environment that he created. In this way it is still connected to the idea of a designed earth.28 Third, the idea of humanity as a geographic agent29 points out the significance of humanity’s role in changing the face of the earth. This idea can also be called the idea of humanity as a modifier of the environment, and sometimes humanity is viewed as an improver of God’s own creation by improving chaotic nature. Although this idea was not very strong in ancient times, it is perhaps the most important view on the relationships between humans and the environment in the modern world. This Western idea plays a major role in the modern environmental movement, and is reflected in the current crisis of global warming. In the 1950s Carl O. Sauer and his collaborators organized a conference on man’s role in changing the face of the earth. At this conference the many levels of human



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impact on the earth that had been made by different civilizations throughout human history were examined. The book that resulted from the conference discussed human impact on the environment in general through urbanization, agriculture, human waste, and so forth; the discussion, however, was largely centered on the West.30 As commented earlier in this chapter, if one has to identify one Korean idea as the counterpart of the Western idea of humanity as a modifier of the environment, the geomantic idea of pibo is a prime candidate for consideration. Glacken proposed in his book that two views have been important in the development of the Western idea of humanity as a geographic agent. One is a utilitarian view of the environment; the second is the idea of humanity being in partnership with God in managing and improving God’s own creation.31 He also discussed “the idea of humanity as God’s helper in finishing the creation” as a subset of the idea of humanity as a geographic agent.32 Adhering to this idea, Western monks in Christian monasteries converted virgin woodlands or marshes into fertile farmland.33 By doing so, the monks thought that they were helping God by being his good manager and improving and finishing his creation. The religious idea played an important role in the human modification of the environment during medieval times and resulted in the conversion of virgin land swamps and forest into farmland. A summary of the above discussion appears in table 12.1. Table 12.1.  The Korean Geomantic Idea of Chosan Pibo and the Western Idea of Humanity as a Partner with God in Improving Creation: A Comparison Korean Idea of Chosan Pibo

Western Idea of a Partnership with God

1. Quasi-religious action to prevent 1. Religious action to help God by misfortune by remedying the landscape improving his creation 2. Built earth mounds or stone piles to 2. Converting wilderness into fertile modify landforms farmland 3. Often symbolic gesture of modifying 3. Resulted in real and significant landform modification of landscape 4. The modified parts of the landscape 4. The converted landscape itself does not (the earth mounds or the stone piles) become the object of worship or the can be the objects of worship or can sacred place of worship become the sacred place of worship 5. Work by settlement communities or 5. Work by mainly Christian monks in government authorities monastic orders, especially the Benedictines 6. Through temporary mobilization of 6. Through lifetime work as a way of life and people only when the construction in a full-time work manner work was needed 7. Continued labor was not required once 7. Continued labor was an integral part of chosan were created, and continued labor practicing their faith and their path to was not a part of their religious creed God

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Before comparing and contrasting the Korean idea with the Western one, however, we need to conduct more thorough research on the Korean idea of chosan pibo. This important aspect of Korean culture has not yet been given close attention with more comprehensive documentation and interpretation (especially in a crosscultural context). Even the latest and most detailed study on the geomantic idea of pibo is limited only to the southeastern part of the Korean peninsula and has not examined its significance in the history of ideas relating to humanity as a modifier of the environment.34 The idea of pibo should be studied in light of its place in the world history of environmental ideas, beyond the realm of cultural geography. 7. Conclusion In evaluating the impact of geomancy on Korean culture, the study of the geomantic idea of pibo is imperative. Korean’s geomantic consumption of landscape is closely associated with this idea. Chosan pibo is the core of the geomantic idea of pibo, or the wide range of human attempts to remedy imperfect geomantic landscapes. In any future research on the subject, two methods of documentation may be used. The first is extensive fieldwork in Korea to survey the existence of pibo activities, such as man-made hills created for geomantic purposes. Through fieldwork, one could confirm the location and the intensity of geomantic remedial activities. Mapping and photographic documentation of those hills may be employed. For successful fieldwork, assistance from village elders and professional geomancers will be needed. The other method is the examination of historical records, especially the Chosŏn Wangjo Sillok (Annals of the Chosŏn Dynasty) and numerous local gazetteers of county or provincial administrative units. The geomantic idea of pibo is an excellent case for comparison with the Western idea of humanity as a modifier of the environment. However, this important idea has not yet been explored systematically. This research project attempts to examine an important aspect of this neglected research field in terms of the Korean idea of humanity as a modifier of the environment. It is an initial effort to expose the geomantic idea of pibo to Western scholarship. I propose chosan pibo as a Korean counterpart of the Western idea of humanity as a modifier of the environment that viewed human beings as partners of God in improving His creation or as God’s helper in finishing His creation. Both Eastern and Western ideas are concerned with improving the imperfect (unfinished) natural setting of the environment in their own ways, and both ideas resulted in “religious” work toward building an ideal environment for human habitation. The last two chapters dealt with issues identifying types of geomantic landscapes and remedying the landscape shortcomings through artificial means. The next chapter discusses geomancy in a different dimension, a psychology of geomancy. Now let us turn to a medical doctor’s psychological examination of geomancy according to the Jungian school.



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Notes   1. This chapter is based on and developed from my earlier conference paper, Hongkey Yoon, “Pungsupibo or Human Attempts to Remedy Imperfect Geomantic Landscapes in Korea,” in “Inyŏm-gwa Chedo-ŭi Kyoryu: Segye Sog-ŭi Han’guk, Han’guk Sog-ŭi Segye”—Che Ilhoe Kyujanggak Han’gukhak Kukche Simp’ojiŏm (“The Flow of Ideas and Institutions: Korea in the World and the World in Korea”—The First Kyujanggak International Symposium on Korean Studies) (Seoul: Sŏul Taehakkyo, 2008), 275–89, and a portion of Yoon Hong-key, “Geomantic Relationships between Culture and Nature in Korea” (PhD diss., University of California, 1976), which was published under the same name in 1976 by Orient Culture Service, Taipei (see pp. 131–51). Furthermore, it is a modified version of the paper, Yoon, “Human Modification of Korean Landforms for Geomantic Purposes,” Geographical Review 101, no. 2 (2011): 243–60.   2. An intellectual discourse on this topic is found in Clarence J. Glacken, Traces on the Rhodian Shore (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1967), especially in chapter 7, “Interpreting Piety and Activity, and Their Effects on Nature,” 288–351.   3. For Christian monastic work ethics, see “4. Philosophies of Work” in chapter 7 of Glacken’s Traces on the Rhodian Shore, 302–9.  4. Fengshui (geomancy) is labeled (1) a “grossly superstitious system” by Needham in his monumental work, Science and Civilization in China, vol. 4.1, 239; (2) “the rudiments of natural science of China” by Eitel in his book, Feng-shui, title page; and (3) “a quasi-scientific system of China” by de Groot in his book, The Religious Systems of China, vol. 3, 935.   5. Yoon, The Culture of Fengshui in Korea, 217–73   6. Yoon, The Culture of Fengshui in Korea, 311; Hong-key Yoon, “The Role of P’ungsu (Geomancy) in Korean Culture,” International Review of Korean Studies 4, no. 1 (Dec. 2007): 104.   7. Yoon, Geomantic Relationships between Culture and Nature in Korea.  8. It is a generalized idea among practitioners of geomancy in South Korea, and one can easily collect this type of proverbial sayings from professional geomancers or their clientele.   9. My understanding of pibo as stated in this definition reflects the traditional concept of pibo as an abridgment of pibo p’ungsu and an integral part of geomancy. Dr. Choi Won Suk considers the pibo system to be separate from the p’ungsu system. These two systems merged to form pibo p’ungsu. He argues that there have been two types of pibo, one based on Buddhism and one based on geomancy. For more discussion on this issue, see Choi, Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu-wa Pibo, 41–44. 10. Choi, Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu-wa Pibo, 334. 11. Ibid., 335. 12. Yoon, The Culture of Fengshui in Korea, 140; Chang Yongdŭk, “Myŏngdang Chapki” (Essays on Auspicious Sites), Han’guk Ilbo (Hankook Ilbo), February 23, 1974. 13. This book is an official geographical record from the Chosŏn dynasty published in the twenty-fifth year of King Chungjong’s reign (1530). 14. Tongguk Yŏji Pigo (Geographical Compilation of Korea), fasc. 2, 32. 15. Kwon Ki, Yŏnggaji, in Kugyŏk Yŏnggaji, Sŏnsŏngji (Modern Korean Translation of the Yŏnggaji and the Sŏnsŏngji), by Kwon Ki and Kwon Sijung, trans. the Andong Munhwawon (Andong Cultural Center) (Andong: Yŏngnamsa, 2001), fasc. 2, 14.

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16. Yu Chŭngsŏn, “Andong-ŭi Pibo P’ungsu Sinang Chŏnsŏl-gwa Kŭ Paegyŏng” (Geomantic Reinforcement Legends in Andong and Their Background), Andong Munhwa (Andong Culture) 4 (1974): 4. 17. Translated and abridged from Kim Chunho, Sŏnsan’gunji (Local Gazetteer of Sŏnsan County) (Sŏnsan: Sŏnsan’gunji P’yŏnch’an Wiwonhoe, 1968), 342. 18. Kim, Sŏnsan’gunji, 343. 19. Translated and abridged from the Kyŏngsang Namdoji P’yŏnch’an Wiwonhoe (South Kyŏngsang Province Gazetteer Compilation Committee), ed. Kyŏngsang Namdoji (South Kyŏngsang Province Gazetteer), vol. 3 (Pusan: Kyŏngsang Namdoji P’yŏnch’an Wiwonhoe, 1960), 242–43. 20. Translated and abridged from the Sŏnggyun’gwan Taehakkyo (Sungkyunkwan University) Kugŏ Kungmun Hakkwa (Department of Korean Language and Literature), ed., Andong Munhwakwon Haksul Chosa Pogosŏ, 1964–1966: Che Ilch’a Samgaenyŏn Kyehoek (Report on Academic Research on the Andong Cultural Region, 1964–1966: The First 3-year Plan) (Seoul: Sŏnggyun’gwan Taehakkyo, 1967), 113. 21. Choi, Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu-wa Pibo, 385–90. 22. For an example of pines on an artificial hill, see Choi, Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu-wa Pibo, 257. 23. For example, the Sanch’ŏn Pibo Togam (Agency for Strengthening Mountains and Rivers) was established temporarily in 1198 during the Koryŏ dynasty. See Yoon, Geomantic Relationships between Culture and Nature in Korea, 269–70. Dr. Won Suk Choi has documented government bureaus such as the Pot’oso (補土: Bureau for Adding Soil) and the Pot’och’ŏ (補土: Office for Adding Soil) during the Chosŏn dynasty, which must have worked on adding soil to geomantically important places that were undergoing soil erosion. See Choi, Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu-wa Pibo, 219. 24. For example, a permanent office was the Sŏun’gwan (Bureau for Recording Clouds) and temporary offices were the Sanch’ŏn Pibo Togam and the Sallŭng Togam (Office of Tomb Establishment). 25. Glacken, Traces on the Rhodian Shore. 26. These geomantic ideas were briefly discussed in my PhD dissertation more than thirty years ago. See Yoon, Geomantic Relationships between Culture and Nature in Korea, 131–47. 27. Glacken, Traces on the Rhodian Shore, vii. 28. Yoon Hong-key, “A Preliminary Attempt to Give a Birdseye View on the Nature of Traditional Eastern (Asian) and Western (European) Environmental Ideas,” in Environment across Cultures, ed. Eckart Ehlers and Carl Friedrich Gethmann (Berlin: Springer, 2003), 124–32. 29. The original name of this idea was “the idea of man as a geographic agent” as coined by Glacken in his book, Traces on the Rhodian Shore. However, times have changed and the term “man” is now generally considered to be a gender-biased one representing males only, not all human beings. Therefore, I have replaced the word “man” with “humanity.” 30. The participants in the conference and the contributors to the book were mostly Western intellectuals from North America and Europe. See the Table of Contents, ix–xii, and list of participants, 1153–55 in William L. Thomas, Jr., ed., Man’s Role in Changing the Face of the Earth (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1956). 31. Glacken, Traces on the Rhodian Shore, 128.



Geomantic Modification of Landforms 32. Ibid., 293–94. 33. Ibid., 294. 34. Choi, Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu-wa Pibo, 243–370.

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13 Geomancy and Psychology A Psychological Analysis of Geomancy

Cheol Joong Kang

1. The Significance of a Psychological Study of Geomancy Human beings have lived as a part of nature since life began. Before the development of the modern human consciousness, human beings were at the mercy of nature, adapting their living conditions to the natural environment. With the development of the human consciousness, however, human beings were able to focus on their surroundings and manipulate them to secure a better way of life. From this point of view, it is obvious that human beings take interest in their surroundings, and, as an extension of this, their dwellings. It is human nature to want to live in comfort with one’s family, and it is certain that people will seek cool places when the weather is hot and warm places when the weather is cold. Finding a safe and suitable dwelling that has abundant water and food and provides shelter from harsh weather has always been worth the effort for mankind. Just as the face of each person is different, so too are the environments in which we live. Varying weather and changes of seasons are some of the natural phenomena that humans struggle to predict. For this reason, humans have pursued comfortable lives by learning to adapt themselves to changes in the environment, or by manipulating their surroundings. These experiences have been transmitted from generation to generation, tested and verified over time, and imprinted on the hearts, brains, and genes of human beings. It is a given that people will try to manage their surroundings to improve their way of life. It is also common for an individual’s family to pray for his or her soul after death. How then, can we understand a human being’s attempts to control the environment on behalf of the bereaved, in order to live a life of comfort after the death of a beloved one? It appears that this phenomenon is caused by the belief that the life of a man continues after death, and that there are interactions between the living and the 297

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dead. This belief appears in many religions around the world. This belief, and the actions that result, vary among nations and ethnic groups, but can be broadly separated into positive ones and negative ones. Naturally, the humans who hold this belief try to accentuate the positive effects and minimize the negative impacts. Geomancy is a cultural phenomenon of East Asia, including Korea, and a distinctive—both scientific and nonscientific—system of thinking about the graves of the dead in residential areas and environments. While it has been universally proven by the accumulation of human experiences, geomancy is still considered largely unscientific or even religious because of the role of belief in its practices. It cannot be denied that geomancy has been underestimated due to its association with religion and lack of scientific backing. From the viewpoint of depth psychology, however, the unconsciousness of human beings can never be defined by causal and scientific human reasoning, and is affected by these unscientific and religious perspectives. Much research has been conducted on geomancy, but most of it has focused on the geological, ecological, folk, and religious aspects of the practice. This is the first study that seriously considers the psychological aspect of geomancy; this paper uses depth-psychological research to consider the unconsciousness of humans who are affected by or believe in geomancy. Geomancy is a set of values that apply to the surroundings of human beings, especially houses and graves, the residential environment for the living and for the dead. This research focuses particularly on auspicious places, sites considered the best location to place a house or a grave. I will try to explore why people are not satisfied with any scientific explanation or understanding of their houses and graves and unconsciously rely on the unscientific and even religious factor, called p’ungsu 風水 or geomancy. 2. Symbol and Psyche We are surrounded by objects, and the only way we generally recognize them is through sensory stimulation. At times, however, the way we perceive objects can differ. We tend to understand things that we encounter in day-to-day life, even though the substance or appearance may not be familiar. Human beings recognize objects through their sensory organs, and no sooner is the stimulation perceived than it is recognized through a psychological process. The main agent of the cognitive process projects his or her mental contents onto the object, considers it part of the object, and accepts it with the object. In this process, subjective content is added to and embodied in an object. It is known as “projection” in psychology.1 If we know about something very well, we do not project our psychological content onto it very often. However, if this entity is vague, projection could occur. As a result, the psychological content of our mind may come to be seen as a part of the real figure. Common examples of these include death, the afterlife, the existence of the soul or ghosts, astrology, UFOs, and the existence of gods.



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In the case of primitive human beings, the range of figures increases. Without scientific knowledge about these phenomena, they were unable to comprehend things that have since been explained by scientific inquiry. In other words, they projected assumptions or connections from their minds onto many things, such as animals or natural phenomena. They regarded the sunrise as being the beginning of the world, and worshiped strong animals as their gods. They believed that the world of the dead is in the west, since the sun sets in that direction, and projected the idea of eternity, which remains unchanged even after the death of ancestors. In this way, humankind has attributed much psychological value to the objects and phenomena around us since our earliest days. This value is transmitted to us in the form of symbols. According to Carl Gustav Jung, a Swiss psychiatrist and the founder of analytical psychology, a symbol is something that has meaning, yet cannot be explained completely with words. He said that a symbol is pregnant with meaning, but once its meaning is made manifest, born out of it, then the symbol is dead.2 On the other hand, if an object or image has only one meaning, then it is a sign, not a symbol. For example, as a symbol the color red has many meanings, but the color red when applied to traffic lights is just a sign for “stop.” The sign has only one obvious and well–known meaning. Many things can be explained easily and simply, but many are also too complicated and profound to be described in few words. Why are these abundant around us? Why can they not be defined in an easy and simple explanation, and why do they leave space for sophisticated and time-consuming consideration? Why do we fail to explain things by using simple and clear signs, and why are we forced to express them with vague symbols? Psychologically, the reason is that we do not know the meaning behind some things yet, and therefore cannot understand them perfectly, no matter how hard we try. From the viewpoint of consciousness, it is human nature to attempt to broaden our knowledge. However, certain elements cannot be understood, no matter how much we try. A meaning is not attainable at the level of consciousness, which articulates the contents of unconsciousness. Here exists the meaning of a symbol. We can infer that primitive humans were closer to unconsciousness, since the level of their consciousness was simpler than that of contemporary humans. They must have expressed the content of their plentiful unconsciousness in the form of symbols by projecting their minds into the things or phenomena of the outer world. They accepted the world of unconsciousness as the truth, and experienced unconsciousness in real life. They projected the contents of their unconsciousness onto the things outside and considered it the truth of the outer world. The contents of unconsciousness take shape by being projected into the outside. Through this process, they came to feel new vitality when seeing the sun rising in the east, and reminded themselves of fearful loneliness, horror, and death when the dark night came. However, what was the reality of these phenomena? From the sunrise in the east to the sunset in the west, followed by the reappearance of the sun in the east, was a twenty-four-hour cycle, caused by the rotation of the earth. The movement

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of the earth forces us to face the night and wait for the morning. The truth felt by a primitive human being, the vitality projected onto the morning, or the horror projected onto the night, for example, comes from their psychological projection. Contemporary people face a worse situation in this respect, because our advanced consciousness struggles to throw the unconscious factors out from consciousness. Ejected and oppressed unconsciousness gains power against consciousness, and causes tension between the two. This tension starts to disturb the action of consciousness, and as oppression heightens, the disorder of consciousness deepens. When the accumulation of tension crosses the limit, the content of unconsciousness yields spontaneous features such as dreams and spontaneous images.3 Unconsciousness is literally the world about which we cannot be conscious. It is the opposite of consciousness, a world that consciousness hardly knows. We tend to regard unconsciousness as something that is bad, that should not be remembered, and that bothers our real life. So we try to avoid it, forget it, and even get rid of it. It is, however, explicitly within human psyche and appears to us as we strive to exterminate it. Like the north pole of a magnet pulls the south pole, and yin pulls yang, consciousness and unconsciousness as opposite poles have the power to pull each other. It is not important whether unconsciousness physically exists. Rather, the focus should be on the fact that unconsciousness is in our mind and it speaks to us with a language of symbols. “Hence libido symbols, whether mythological or speculative in origin, either present themselves directly as opposites or can be broken down into opposites,” said Jung.4 Libido, or in other words, energy, is generated from the tension of the opposite, and a symbol results. It seems that symbolism about natural phenomena is observed frequently in the system of geomancy. Geomancy starts with detailed observations of the natural phenomena that occur in natural surroundings. Based on these observations people must have adapted themselves to nature or manipulated it in their favor. The phenomena that were explainable thanks to the knowledge gained were interpreted during the observation process. However, in the case of unexplainable phenomena, the human psychological contents were added to the process naturally, in the form of symbols. 3. Psychological Aspects of Auspicious Places A lot of effort and sincerity is invested in building a house or determining the location of a grave in East Asian culture, of course including Korea. It is understandable that one would try to find a suitable place to live. However, there also is a unique system of thinking that suggests descendants are able to live happily if their dead ancestor is buried in a good place. Jung5 defined religion as “the peculiar attitude of mind which could be formulated in accordance with the original use of the word religio, which means a careful consideration and observation of certain dynamic factors that are conceived as ‘powers’: spirits, daemons, gods, laws, ideas, or whatever name man has given to such



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factors in his world as he has found powerful, dangerous, or helpful enough to be taken into careful consideration, or grand, beautiful, and meaningful enough to be devoutly worshipped and loved.” The attitude of Korean people with relation to siting houses and graves has existed for a long time, and the endeavor to find a good place, a so-called auspicious place, is even understood to be a sort of religious phenomenon. The religious idea of geomancy seems stronger in ŭmt’aek p’ungsu 陰宅風水 (geomancy for burial places) than in yangt’aek p’ungsu 陽宅風水 (geomancy for housing).6 Thus we will mainly focus on ŭmt’aek p’ungsu, because its stronger religious theme means it is more appropriate to consider psychological interpretations in relation to auspicious places. Bones, Vitality, and Induction of Vital Energy between Ancestors and Descendants Induction of vital energy between ancestors and descendants is the concept that lies behind the idea that if the ancestor’s bones are buried in a place full of vitality, the descendants can gain from the vitality the ancestor’s bones receive. It is considered good to live in a place that is filled with vitality, but it is also thought that the bones of the dead can absorb vitality directly and without disturbance, because the bones are in direct contact with the ground. The ancestor’s good energy can then be transmitted to his descendants through the common energy shared by descendants and the bones of their ancestors. Bones are very important structures that form the basis of the human body. Like the Biblical story that Eve is made from Adam’s rib, much folklore and many mythologies have stories relating to reviving life by putting flesh to bone, if the bones remain.7 Bones symbolize permanence, which means inalterability, even with the passage of time. People tried to find a nice place for graves, as the house for the soul of the dead, because it was believed that the soul and spirit are contained in bones and therefore that the bones that remained after the decomposition of a body were the soul of the dead.8 From a geomantic viewpoint, the reason people try to find an auspicious place is because of its vitality, shengqi 生氣. Descendants, especially, try to acquire vitality from nature by burying the bones of their ancestors in auspicious places, using the bones as a medium. It follows, then, that we would consider how the bones of an ancestor and their descendants are connected. The Chinese classic of grave geomancy, Zangshu, explains this reasoning in a metaphysical way: “People received their body from their parents. When the main body [i.e., dead body] acquires the energy [vital energy], the remaining body [i.e., living descendants] receives auspiciousness from the energy. The scripture said that the energy induces spirit, and then the auspiciousness is delivered to people [i.e., living descendants]. This is as if when a copper mountain collapses in the west, the spiritual bell [made from the copper from the mine] rings in the east, or when trees bloom in spring, chestnuts bud in the room.”9

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According to Hong-key Yoon, however, “This explanation fails to explain the channeling mechanism whereby auspiciousness is delivered to descendants. The mechanism is very ambiguous; there are only mysterious statements regarding the absorption of vital energy by the living.”10 If we disregard the question of whether the phenomenon of descendants acquiring vitality from the bones of ancestors buried in auspicious places really exists, it becomes clear that the phenomenon cannot be explained using the method of causationism. Jung posited the phenomenon of “synchronicity phenomenon” as being the concept of “meaningful coincidence” between events. It is not correct to consider it merely simultaneity. He said, “In such cases mere chance becomes highly improbable because the coincidence is known in advance. It thus loses its chance character not only psychologically and subjectively, but objectively too, since the accumulation of details that coincide immeasurably increases the improbability of chance as a determining factor.”11 Jung showed a number of cases in his writings, but specifically presented the oracle method of the Yijing (I Ching, or Classic of Changes) as an example that obviously illustrates synchronicity. He even pointed out that “the same holds true of the geomantic experiment, which is based on similar principles.”12 The idea that the vitality of nature is received by descendants through the bones (bodies) of their ancestors is a way of thinking unique to geomancy. It cannot be considered a coincidence, nor can it be explained as a causal relationship. From this viewpoint, we can conclude that the belief that the vitality of nature can be acquired if ancestors’ bodies are buried in accordance with conditions that satisfy the terms of an auspicious place is related to the geomancers’ or the descendants’ psychological attitude about auspicious places. Beyond the simple thinking that descendants can acquire vitality from nature if their ancestors are buried in an auspicious place, it seems that auspicious places are a phenomenon of “meaningful coincidence” between natural conditions and the descendants’ psychological status of hoping or wishing for it. Nature presents an auspicious place to the descendants only when they earnestly hope for an auspicious place. If this is so, one more topic should be considered; it can be said that the psychological status of people who earnestly hope for an auspicious place, descendants in other words, can because of that expectation make the conditions of an auspicious place different. After all, this “earnest hope” is the same as a “religious attitude.” This does not mean that it is acceptable to seize and capture good sites by any means, as many geomancy-related fairy tales suggest. Even if it does not entail anything illegal or bad, not regarding one’s conscious situations and sacrificing a lot to search for sites cannot be regarded as positive. Those are due to inflation of ego13 and unconscious overwhelming power. A mature deed is taking action with an attitude of religio, careful and sincere consideration toward an irrational world that cannot be easily understood, and with deep contemplation about a right attitude of oneself.14 With this attitude, one finally can say they are righteous in looking for an auspicious place.



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Mountains, Wind, and Water The important land conditions for geomancy are watercourses, direction of land, and mountain ranges.15 Different books and geomancers place more or less emphasis on different land conditions. A common theme, however, is that mountain ranges and watercourses cannot be considered independently; they must be considered in harmony. The symbolic representation of a mountain surpasses space and time, and has diverse meaning among multiple contexts. Usually, a mountain is the center and the axis of the world. It becomes the route toward the sky; it means eternity and immortality. Due to these characteristics, a mountain is considered a divine place that ordinary people can hardly visit, and it is said that one should never climb without first preparing well.16 Also, there is a belief that spirits reside in mountains, and therefore it is believed that they are a land for dead spirits.17 Among these many aspects, in the idea of geomancy, mountains hold strong vitality that winds carry to auspicious places.18 In other words, a mountain plays the role of pulling the power of life from the sky to the land. To a geomancer, wind and vital energy are different forms of the same substance, yin-yang energy.19 Symbolically, since wind is the breath of life, it represents the spirit from the sky.20 Also, as wind is an intangible, transient, insubstantial, and elusive object,21 in geomancy it is said to be very important to calm the winds down. Water is also very important in geomancy. The Zhangshu says that obtaining water was more crucial than calming the winds. Water is a symbol of numerous things, but among them the most representative is the Great Mother. She is associated with birth, the feminine principle, the universal womb, the prima materia, the waters of fertility and refreshment and the fountain of life.22 Water dissolves, crushes, cleanses, washes, and regenerates the whole world. Therefore, water washes away old life and gives birth to new life. Especially, flowing water symbolizes the sexual ties between men and women, birth, regeneration, and growth.23 In geomancy, the ideal condition for water is a zigzagging flow of a stream.24 When a streams bends, water becomes weak and must flow a further distance. However, when zigzagging water meets resistance, at first glimpse it concedes and goes in one direction, but in the end it holds the power to even crush hard rocks. Also, zigzagging water represents the vitality of life in contrary to the stiffness of death.25 Since water represents a relationship with the mother, water also means death. Most of all, the Great Mother, a female goddess, is given creative aspects and destructive qualities at the same time. She is both a nourisher, protector, provider of warmth and shelter, and the terrible forces of dissolution, devouring and deathdealing; she is the creator and nurturer of all life, and also its grave.26 The reasons why in the Zhangshu said it is more important to obtain water can be said to be because of her dual nature.

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Psychological Interpretation of the Auspicious Place As there are too many known ways and theories that determine auspicious places to list here, we may instead understand these sites using Jungian psychology. Auspicious places are usually filled with flowers and are located at the end of a mountain range.27 In deciding on a site, there are three main elements to consider. There are landforms, watercourses, and cosmological directions.28 In addition to these three, one must have the two conditions mentioned before to get shengqi: water and wind. To do this, one needs mountains surrounding the land and a river flowing in front. To fulfill this land condition, the shape of the mountains becomes very important, and this shape is called the “Dragon.”29 Just by looking at the shape one may categorize it as either a dragon or a snake. However, to assume that it is a dragon one must first understand a dragon’s symbolic meaning. There may be no other mythological creature in the Western and Eastern worlds that embodies such different ideas. In both worlds, however, a dragon has complex symbolic and psychological meanings. In the Western world, a dragon is a winged snake, that is, a fused form of a snake (meaning material) and a bird (meaning spirit). The merciful dragon is seen as a god of the sky or its substitute (the king or emperor). In the Eastern world, a dragon is a being in the sky that does good deeds. However, in the Western world, it becomes chthonic, destructive, and evil.30 A dragon is just like sulfur or mercury in alchemy, in that it neutralizes opposite poles. Uroboros, which is a dragon biting its own tail, means undeveloped nature. In the Eastern world, a dragon has many meanings, but most of them are positive and creative. Also, a dragon holds everything in itself—water, land, and even the underworld.31 This means a dragon is an unrevealed, undifferentiated being that represents potential, untamed nature, many life elements, Uroboros, and prima materia of alchemy. Therefore, from a geomantic perspective, a dragon holds the idea of bringing energy to the auspicious place. Dragons have a role in identifying the conditions of auspicious places. These sites must have surrounding mountains, with special characteristics. The mountain to the east is called the Azure Dragon, the western one is the White Tiger, the mountain in the south is the Red Bird, and the northern mountain is the Black Tortoise. The Azure Dragon is related to blue, east, spring, and the force of trees, and the White Tiger is related to white, west, fall, and the force of metal. The Red Bird is associated with red, south, summer, the force of fire, while the Black Tortoise represents black, north, winter, and the force of water. These four can be categorized into east-west-south-north, spring-summer-fall-winter, dragon-tiger-bird-tortoise, and blue-white-red-black. In the middle of these four sets, there exists a spot, the so-called xue 穴 (geomantic cave). This spot is believed to be center-yellow-soilhuman. This means that those four directions, four animals, four seasons, and four colors exist surrounding a human being. The number four represents the minimum number of determinants in a whole judgment,32 which has the meaning of “first recognized order.”33 Furthermore, the



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principle of four symbolizes perfection in places too numerous to mention one by one. Jung said “The totality appears in quaternary form only when it is not just an unconscious fact but a conscious and differentiated totality.”34 Therefore, each of four elements of an auspicious place means perfection and all these four sets add up to greater perfection. A site that is surrounded by four elements usually forms a circular shape. A circle is the most natural form that holds divine meaning. It represents totality, wholeness, simultaneity, and original perfection.35 An auspicious place has the shape of circulus quadratus,36 which is a fused form of four elements and a circle. This is the typical form of the mandala. We see many mandalas in nature. Also, in many religions, especially Tibetan Buddhist and Christian myths and artworks, we can find mandalas. Among these are examples of a person who had no influence accidentally finding or seeing a mandala in a dream or illusion and becoming aware of greater psychological meaning. Von Franz said this is “a symbolic representation of the ‘nuclear atom’ of the human psyche—whose essence we do not know.”37 A circle expresses the totality of the psyche, and a square formed by four elements is a symbol of earthbound matter, of the body and reality,38 and the realization of a natural wholeness in consciousness.39 Jung asserted in his Psychology and Religion that “I have always been particularly interested to see how people, if left to their own devices and not informed about history of the symbol, would interpret it to themselves. I was careful, therefore, not to disturb them with my own opinions, and as a rule I discovered that they took it (four) to symbolize themselves,40 or rather something in themselves. They felt it belonged intimately to themselves as a sort of creative background, a life-producing sun in the depth of the unconscious.”41 Thus the auspicious place is not only a symbol of wholeness but a symbol of the “self.” The meaning of the self in Jungian psychology is at once the nucleus and the whole psyche. From ancient times, people have been intuitively aware of the existence of such an inner core. Greeks called it man’s inner daimon; in Egypt it was expressed by the concept of the Ba-soul; and the Romans worshiped it as the “genius” native to each individual.42 Jung said the spontaneous symbol of the self, or of wholeness, cannot in practice be distinguished from a God-image.43 In the Eastern world, people call it Dao 道, Buddha-nature 佛性, and one mind 一 心, among others. It is shown as Jesus or the Buddha, but it also can be shown as divine spirits, wise elders, or sometimes, a child. If not shown as a person, it is also sometimes shown as a diamond, golden flower, lotus flower, round stone, or rose.44 This is completely distinguished from what we know “ego” to be, which constitutes only a small part of the total psyche. The self plays the role of regulation and gives direction unconsciously. This, though slow and hardly recognized, produces psychic growth and the individuation process.45 The totality of psyche, as said before, far exceeds the range of ego. It is the total psyche that not only gathers, but combines consciousness and unconsciousness. This combination needs a conscious sense of harmony. Therefore, this totality includes meanings of harmony and equilibrium. Psychologically, totality must

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be backed by harmony and equilibrium of ego and shadow,46 persona,47 anima or animus,48 and consciousness and unconsciousness. As this shows, an auspicious place symbolizes totality—the self, and it seems to be projected into the land. This is the reason we try to find auspicious places—to internalize the totality that we projected into the outer world. Through obtaining such land that harmonizes and balances our psychic contents and tendencies, one is trying to achieve a new harmonized totality. The Owner of the Auspicious Place One unique characteristic of Korean geomancy is that there are chosen owners for auspicious places. This can be understood in terms of loyalty and filial piety, mercy, and moral phenomena related to Confucianism and Buddhism that have great influence over Korean society. However, as many fairy tales show, there are many cases of people using tricks and guile to take ownership of an auspicious site.49 When we analyze geomancy from the viewpoint of consciousness, it rather seems irrational and not easily understandable. A psychological view, however, suggests that it is rather the problem of a main character’s attitude of ego facing unconsciousness. From the viewpoint of unconsciousness, the moral value of consciousness is collective and traditional. About the moral and ethical problem of mind, Jung said “It deserves this qualification only when it is reflective, when it is subjected to conscious scrutiny. And this happens only when a fundamental doubt arises as between two possible modes of moral behavior, that is to say, in a conflict of duty.”50 When one goes through this conflict without easily suppressing the other by society’s rule, this decision is derived from one’s very nature, and it does not have to match social ethics. Therefore, for Jung, the true moral and ethical decision is self-realization not as a part, but as a whole.51 With this view, whether one has the right to obtain an auspicious site or not depends on whether one is ready for individualization. This ultimately means the readiness of attitude of ego. In the beginning of individuation, though, it may differ from person to person, and although someone cannot feel it, it is a world-shaking shock. To face and assimilate this, one must have ego to not be overwhelmed by unconsciousness, and must have strong courage to bear any hardship. One may not recognize the beginning and processing of individuation, but the process goes on as self-planned. To participate or not depends on the decision of the ego. 4. Reflective Remarks on a Psychological Analysis of Geomancy Geomancy has been uniquely set in the Korean mind. I believe that the system of geomancy is based on complex theoretical ground, so those without background knowledge of the practice would have difficulty understanding this idea. In the very beginning, as described in Yoon’s52 theory, geomancy was developed with a practical purpose, searching for a suitable place to live. Since people at that time lived



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without the hyperdeveloped engineering and architectural skills of modern times, they had to adapt themselves to natural geographical conditions. However, finding suitable places to live would have been difficult, and therefore the most suitable sites became highly prized and known as auspicious places.53 However, there seem to be more reasons behind the practice of geomancy. Even those without knowledge of the required conditions for a place to be auspicious will feel comfortable when they spend time in such a place, whether it is suitable for living or not. Of course, it is impossible to think that every person will feel the same way just because they are at the same place. There must be some differences regarding the feeling one gets from the land. The reason seems to be the personal difference among consciousness conditions. Auspicious places replenish and accept the deficient and overflowing parts of a person so that they balance, adjust, and supplement one’s whole psyche. Psychologically speaking, the effect of an auspicious place is compensation of unconsciousness54 that cures the total psyche. To search for such a site is to search for the cure for one’s psyche that was once parted from oneself due to a directional and one-sided attitude of consciousness.55 Therefore, auspicious places are our foremost values, symbols of the Self such as harmony, equilibrium, perfection, and uniqueness reflected on the land. By finding such places, we try to gain totality of psyche. To be able to do so requires a readied consciousness. Only the readied may have the chance to gain auspicious places. However, just gaining the site is not all. Earning the place means transformation of personality. It is the ultimate goal of individuation. Through this study, I have analyzed the effect of auspicious places on human beings’ consciousness and unconsciousness with analytical psychology. A weak point in this study is my inability to analyze phenomena and process along with geomancers and those who know and believe in geomancy. Future research should look for myths and fairy tales to address these deficiencies. Also, it would be very nice to search for similar concepts in other cultures. 5. Conclusion Human beings live in time and space. Therefore, it is obvious that they have great interest in their environment. Although usually we do not take much notice, we live in a world with numerous symbols, and we are influenced by them. Most of us, however, do not recognize their influence, and even if we do, we fail to bring them to consciousness and apply them to our lives. This is because we live in a world that does not value our inner life. Important symbols, such as auspicious places, become relevant in many different moments in our lives, in various ways. This happens most dramatically and voluntarily during important points of life such as adolescence and during midlife crises. Of course this is part of the goal and the plan of individuation. Individuation or self-realization cannot be defined in one sentence. Briefly speaking, it pulls the infinite possibility from unconsciousness to consciousness, and lets us use it. Jung said in his reminiscence: “My life is a story of the self-realization

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of the unconscious. Everything in the unconscious seeks outward manifestation, and the personality too desires to evolve out of its unconscious conditions and to express itself as a whole.”56 It is very difficult to find what is within one’s own unconscious, and make it conscious. Most of us live with others, and do our own work within our own world surrounded by exterior factors such as academic cliques, our appearance, and our economic wealth. In such an environment, it is not easy for people today to be interested in their inner lives. However, our psyches do not leave us alone. In view of the total psyche, when one’s ego goes in the wrong direction, unconsciousness warns one, no matter what. This warning may take different forms; it can sometimes be ignored with ease, but in other cases it can get so strong that it may destroy one’s ego. The archetypal symbol of self, which is the central core of unity, uniqueness, and totality of the psyche, would have a powerful emotional reaction.57 This symbol may appear when one meets something surpassing oneself, that which holds numinosity. This may be what religions intend as the supreme state and ultimate goal. At present, we have no problem saying that the practice of geomancy has declined. Geomancy’s spiritual aspects have been mostly forgotten, and geomancy is now just used as a form of landscaping. Usually, even if something appears worthless and unimportant, when a person or a group exhibits a religious intent to sacrifice on behalf of that “thing,” it acquires important psychological or spiritual value. To value it highly or take it as worthless is the assignment given to the conscious ego. If one obtains such psychological value through this analysis, it would be the result not only of my research, but of Jung, who asserted the creativity of the unconsciousness. This psychological analysis of geomancy was a prelude to the following two chapters’ focus on the important religious ideological interactions between geomancy and Buddhism and Confucianism, respectively. Let us first turn to our discussion to the interaction between geomancy and Buddhism. Notes  1. Carl Gustav Jung, “XI. Definitions,” Psychological Types, trans. and ed. Gerhard Adler and R. F. C. Hull, Collected Works of C. G. Jung, vol. 6 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1971), 457. The discussion in this chapter is a translated and revised version of excerpts from Cheol Joong Kang, “Tdang-e Toosadoen Jagi-ui Sangjing—Myeongdangui Bunseoksimrihakjeok Cheukmyeon” Shim-Song Yon-Gu 심성연구 26(1) (2011): 67–88.   2. Ibid., 474.   3. Ibid., 419.   4. Jung, “V. The Type Problem in Poetry,” Psychological Types, 202.   5. Carl Gustav Jung, “Psychology and Religion,” Psychology and Religion: West and East, trans. and ed. Adler and Hull, Collected Works of C. G. Jung, vol. 11 (Princeton, NJ: ­Princeton University Press, 1970), 8.   6. Yoon, The Culture of Fengshui in Korea, 119.



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  7. After having killed and eaten his goats, Thor reassembles their bones to bring them back to life (Mythological Motif E. The Dead, 32, Resuscitated eaten animal); the Juniper Tree who comes forth as a bird from the bones his sister has buried (E. The Dead, 607.1 Bones of the dead collected and buried, 610.1.1 Reincarnation). See Stith Thompson, The Folktale (New York: Dryden Press, 1946), 255.  8. Han’guk Munhwa Sangjing Sajŏn P’yŏnch’an Wiwonhoe (Dictionary of Korean Cultural Symbols Compilation Committee), Han’guk Munhwa Sangjing Sajŏn 2 (Dictionary of Korean Cultural Symbols 2) (Seoul: Tong’a Ch’ulp’ansa, 1995), 361.   9. Guo, Zangshu, 1. 10. Yoon, Culture of Fengshui in Korea, 69. 11. Carl Gustav Jung, “On Synchronicity,” Structure & Dynamics of the Psyche, trans. and ed. Adler and Hull, Collected Works of C. G. Jung, vol. 8 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1970), 522. 12. Jung, “On Synchronicity,” Structure & Dynamics of the Psyche, 527. 13. Carl Gustav Jung, “The Self,” Aion: Researches into the Phenomenology of the Self, trans. and ed. Adler and Hull, Collected Works of C. G. Jung, vol. 9 (Part 2) (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1970), 23. 14. Rhi Bou Yong, Punsŏk Simnihak: C. G. Jung-ŭi In’gan Simsŏngnon (Analytical Psychology: C. G. Jung’s Thoughts on Man’s Mind), rev. ed. (Seoul: Ilchogak, 1998), 363–64. 15. Yoon, Culture of Fengshui in Korea, 70. 16. Jean Chevalier and Alain Gheerbrant, Dictionnaire des symboles: Mythes, rêves, coutumes, gestes, formes, figures, couleurs, nombres, trans. John Buchanan-Brown, The Penguin Dictionary of Symbols (London: Penguin Books, 1996), 680––85. 17. Han’guk Munhwa Sangjing Sajŏn P’yŏnch’an Wiwonhoe, Han’guk Munhwa Sangjing Sajŏn 2, 398–99. 18. Yoon, Culture of Fengshui in Korea, 71. 19. Ibid., 87. 20. Chevalier and Gheerbrant, Dictionnaire des symboles, 1110–11. 21. J. C. Cooper, An Illustrated Encyclopedia of Traditional Symbols (London: Thames & Hudson, 1987), 192. 22. Ibid., 188. 23. Kim Yŏlgyu, Han’guk Minsok–kwa Munhak Yŏn’gu (A Study of Korean Folklore and Literature) (Seoul: Ilchogak, 1971), 218. 24. Yoon, Culture of Fengshui in Korea, 90. 25. Lao-tzu, chapters 8, 76, and 78, Tao Te Ching, in Cooper, Illustrated Encyclopedia of Traditional Symbols, 189. 26. Cooper, Illustrated Encyclopedia of Traditional Symbols, 108. 27. Yoon, Culture of Fengshui in Korea, 75. 28. Ibid., 71. 29. Xu and Xu, Dili Renzi Xuezhi, 5. 30. Cooper, Illustrated Encyclopedia of Traditional Symbols, 55. 31. Chevalier and Gheerbrant, Dictionnaire des symboles, 307. 32. Carl Gustav Jung, “Introduction to the Religious and Psychological Problems of Alchemy,” Psychology and Alchemy, trans. and ed. Adler and Hull, Collected Works of C. G. Jung, vol. 12 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1968), 26. 33. Franz Carl Endres and Annemarie Schimmel, Das Mysterium der Zahl: Zahlensymbolik im Kulturvergleich (The Mystery of Numbers), trans. O Sŏkkyun, Su-ŭi Sinbi-wa

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Mabŏp: Illyu Munmyŏng-ŭl Chibaehan Sangjingjŏk Kiho (Seoul: Koryŏwon Midiŏ, 1996), 93. 34. Carl Gustav Jung, “III. The Personification of the Opposites,” Mysterium Coniunctionis, trans. and ed. Adler and Hull, Collected Works of C. G. Jung, vol. 14 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1970), 203. 35. Cooper, Illustrated Encyclopedia of Traditional Symbols, 36. 36. Jung, “Psychology and Religion,” Psychology and Religion, 64. 37. Marie-Luise von Franz, “The Process of Individuation,” in Man and His Symbols, ed. Carl Gustav Jung (New York: Laurel Book, 1968), 230. 38. Aniela Jaffe, “Symbolism in the Visual Arts,” in Man and His Symbols, 285. 39. von Franz, “Process of Individuation,” in Man and His Symbols, 234. 40. It refers to the analysands Jung has analyzed but can also be regarded as all human beings in a broad sense. 41. Jung, “Psychology and Religion,” Psychology and Religion, 58. 42. von Franz, “Process of Individuation,” in Man and His Symbols, 162. 43. Jung, “Christ, A Symbol of the Self,” Aion, 40. 44. It is dangerous and undesirable for an understanding of archetypes to abuse this explanation deliberately. A literal interpretation, or a word-for-word interpretation, is merely an arrangement of meaningless words, which “kills” the life of the symbol and degrades the solemnity and sublimity of an experience to a simple interest or to an intellectual vanity. Jung has emphasized many times that feeling, as well as intellectual understanding, plays an important role in realizing wholeness. Rhi, Punsŏk Simnihak, 116–17. 45. von Franz, “Process of Individuation,” in Man and His Symbols, 161. 46. The shadow personifies everything that the subject refuses to acknowledge about himself and yet is always thrusting itself on him directly or indirectly—for instance, via inferior traits of character and other incompatible tendencies (Carl Gustav Jung, Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, trans. and ed. Adler and Hull, Collected Works of C. G. Jung, vol. 9 (Part 1) (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1969), 284ff.). 47. The individual’s system of adaptation to, or the manner he assumes in dealing with, the world (Jung, Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, 122ff.). 48. Personification of the feminine nature of a man’s unconscious (anima) and the masculine nature of a woman’s (animus). Aniela Jaffe, Memories, Dreams, Reflections (New York, Vintage Books, 1989), 391. 49. Yoon, “Wae P’ungsu-nŭn Chung’yohan Yŏn’gu Chuje-in’ga?” (Why Is Geomancy an Important Research Topic for the Korean Geographers?), Taehan Chiri Hakhoeji (Journal of the Korean Geographical Society) 36, no. 4 (2001): 343–55. These contents can be considered as a situation in which the ego is overwhelmed by the dark side of the ego, the shadow of unconsciousness. It is not, however, a simple problem since they can be different, according to the contents of fairy tales. 50. Carl Gustav Jung, “A Psychological View of Conscience,” Civilization in Transition, trans. and ed. Adler and Hull, Collected Works of C. G. Jung, vol. 10 (Princeton, NJ: ­Princeton University Press, 1970), 454. 51. Rhi, Punsŏk Simnihak, 337. 52. Yoon, Culture of Fengshui in Korea, 21. 53. This phenomenon also appears in ŭmt’aek p’ungsu (geomancy for burial sites) because it seeks appropriate sites for the dead as well. 54. Jung, “XI. Definitions,” Psychological Types, 418–20. 55. Jung regarded the activity of the unconscious as a balancing of the one-sidedness of the general attitude produced by the function of consciousness. The activity of consciousness



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is selective. Selection demands direction. But direction requires the exclusion of everything irrelevant. The contents that are excluded and inhibited by the chosen direction sink into the unconscious, where they form a counterweight to the conscious orientation. The strength of this counterposition keeps pace with the increase of conscious one-sidedness until finally a noticeable tension is produced. Jung, “XI. Definitions,” Psychological Types, 419. 56. Jaffe, Memories, Dreams, Reflections, 3. 57. Rhi Bou Yong, Chagi-wa Chagi Silhyŏn (Self and Self-Actualization) (Seoul: Han’gilsa, 2002), 61.

14 Geomancy and Buddhism An Examination of the Interaction during the Koryŏ Period1

Won-suk Choi

1. Introduction This study explores the interaction between Buddhism and geomancy 風水. It explores when and how the interaction came about, its characteristics, and the sphere of influence of this partnership on Korean society and on the separate disciplines of Buddhism and geomancy. Throughout East Asia, but mainly in Korea and China, Buddhism and the art of geomancy formed a distinctive ideological and cultural landscape in close connection with each other. The combination of these two disciplines brought together Buddhist belief and the power-of-land theory, creating an aesthetic harmony of mind and nature. China’s Buddhist architecture and spatial arrangements were influenced largely by geomantic philosophy.2 The connection between Buddhism and the art of geomancy in Korea was established by the Buddhist monk Tosŏn 道詵 (827–898), who was the first to introduce geomancy to the peninsula. Ever since that era, both Buddhism and geomancy have had a far-reaching influence on the culture of Korea (see table 14.1 on page 314). Historically, Buddhism-geomancy interactions underwent three phases. The first interaction occurred when Zen Buddhism was introduced in the late Silla period. Although it seems that Buddhism and geomancy were sometimes in contest with each other, overall the relationship was cooperative and complementary. On the one hand, Buddhism aided the spread of geomancy and contributed to the beginning of the pibo geomancy theory; on the other hand, geomancy influenced the placement of Buddhist temples. And in the late Silla transitional period, pibo geomancy was an ideological force which propelled the society toward a new era. The second phase of interaction occurred during the Koryŏ period when the combined thought of Buddhism and geomancy came to be recognized as a social and spatial ideology, one that was frequently tapped for political purposes by the 313

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Table 14.1.  Buddhism-Geomancy Influences Cultural Element

Influences of Buddhism-Geomancy Interaction

Religious belief

Coupling of the power-of-land theory and Buddhist beliefs

Aesthetics

Aesthetic harmony of nature and mind

Theories

The Buddhist geomantic theory 佛家地理說 of Buddhist building location and the pibo (pibo sat’ap) geomancy theory

Location of Buddhist Geomantic influence on determining the location of Buddhist temples temples Placement of Geomantic principles of propitious placement and pibo placement Buddhist temples Temple and pagoda styles

Temple and pagoda styles based on geomantic principles

National land planning Location of pibo temples and national pibo National ceremony

Conducting auspicious pibo ceremonies to ensure good fortune for the nation 地理延基裨補 (chiri yŏn’gi pibo)

Leadership

Leadership by Buddhist monks specializing in geomancy

Literature

Tales of geomancy monks and the prophetic writing genre

ruling class. In this way, Buddhism and geomancy made their way into mainstream society and the connection between the two was strengthened in the process. Pibo theory was adopted as the basis for the nation’s spatial planning philosophy in the Koryŏ period and pibo temples were built and maintained in the capital where the auspicious pibo ceremony was performed to ensure good fortune for the nation (chiri yŏn’gi pibo). The third phase of interaction between Buddhism and geomancy was marked by decline, as Buddhism was suppressed during the Chosŏn dynasty and Confucian rationalism prevailed over geomancy. Their influence was thus limited to a grassroots level, where renowned Buddhist-geomancy monks wrote books in the geomantic-prophetic genre and spread folk tales. This ensured that interaction between Buddhism and geomancy during this period would continue, although unofficially and with low-level influence. In this section we build on the earlier discussion of interactions between Buddhism and geomancy in two parts. First, we discuss historical origins and developments, such as when the two ideologies first began to interact in Korea, what social groups were responsible for initiating interaction and why, and what influence these interactions had on Silla society. Next, we consider the influence of interactions between the two ideologies, such as the impact of Buddhism on the spread of geomancy and establishment of the pibo geomancy philosophy, and the influence of geomancy on the location and placement of Buddhist temples.



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Table 14.2.  Phases and Characteristics of Buddhism-Geomancy Interaction in Korean History. Phase Period Area

Characteristics

Zen Buddhism and geomancy

The introduction of Zen Buddhism initiated interaction between Buddhism and geomancy.

Introduction Late Silla Social ideologies

The pibo geomancy theory helped to forge social and spatial ideologies.

Location and placement of Location and placement Buddhist temples premised on of Buddhist temples geomancy principles. Location of pibo temples and National land planning national pibo Prosperity Koryŏ Auspicious pibo ceremonies for Ceremony national luck (chiri yŏn’gi pibo). Decline Chosŏn Folk literature

Geomantic monks’ folktales and development of a geomantic-prophetic writing genre.

2. The Origin and Development of Interaction between Buddhism and Geomancy Historical Origin The first interaction between Buddhism and geomancy in China developed through the choice of Buddhist temple locations. It reached its peak in the Tang 唐 dynasty (618–907), which was also the apex for both Buddhism and geomancy. Geomancy became popular throughout Korea in the ninth-century late Silla period, when Zen Buddhism was first introduced from China. Toward the end of the eighth century cultural conflicts erupted between Buddhism and geomancy over the use of Buddhist temple locations for royal tombs. However, the conflict was short-lived as the ninth century marked the beginning of a harmonious interrelationship and interaction between Buddhism and geomancy. In Japan, influences between Buddhism and geomancy arrived much later in the thirteenth century, and were on a limited scale compared with their impact on the Korean peninsula. Chinese geomancy took its basic shape during the Han dynasty, maturing in the Tang dynasty, and reaching its peak in the Song 宋 dynasty,3 but interactions between Buddhism and geomancy were in full swing during the Tang dynasty.

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During the Tang dynasty period Zen Buddhism enjoyed increasing popularity, which in turn affected geomancy’s popularity through the influence of several famous Chinese monks who specialized in geomancy. For instance, the selection of sites for Zen Buddhist temples was often contingent on geomantic principles, and Korean monks who had been studying in China later brought geomancy to the Korean peninsula. The Buddhist monks famous for their geomancy expertise in the Tang dynasty include Yixing 一行 (683–727) and Futuhong 浮屠泓 (also known as Hongshi 泓 師). Yixing was an esteemed monk of his time and he is said to have developed a geomantic method of defining mountain ranges known as shanhe liangjieshuo 山河 兩戒說. This method had a significant impact on the next generation of geomancy specialists. Master Yixing under the imperial command of Tang Emperor Xuanzong 玄宗 annotated Guo Pu’s 郭璞 Zangshu 葬書 (Book of Burial; also known as the Jinnangjing 錦囊經 or the Classic of the Silk Pouch) along with Hongshi. In the Song and Ming dynasties, two geomancy monks, Mujiang 目講 and Feihuan 非幻, were well-known, and the emperor asked the eminent monk Feihuan to select a location for royal tombs on Mt. Tianshou 天壽山 in the Changping region.4 Just as geomancy was applied in selecting the location for Buddhist temples, geomancy monks were to play an important national role in selecting the location for royal and annotated geomancy scriptures, which contributed to the theoretical development of geomancy. Geomancy started to become popular in Korea after Buddhism was introduced during the Three Kingdoms Period, but it was not until that period that it began to spread significantly across the peninsula as a result of Buddhism’s increasing popularity among the royal family and leaders residing in the capital regions. Kyŏngju, Silla’s capital, was the main center for the development of geomancy and Buddhism, and geomancy affected the selection process for the location of royal tombs and leadership-backed temples in the region. According to documentary records, in 601, the third year of Paekche King Mu’s 武王 reign, Kwan Nŭk 觀勒 visited Japan, taking with him a calendar and a book of astronomy-geography titled Ch’ŏnmun Chirisŏ 天文地理書 (Book of Astro-geomancy). Kwan Nŭk became a high-ranking monk in Japan, but it is not known whether Ch’ŏnmun Chirisŏ was a book on geomancy, and even if it were it might only suggest a cultural exchange between Paekche and Japan, rather than any specific interaction between Buddhism and geomancy. As an example of the interactions between Buddhism and geomancy, the article entitled “Hwangnyongsa Kuch’ŭngt’ap” 皇龍寺 九層塔 (Nine-Story Pagoda in Hwangnyong Temple) found in fascicle 3 of Samguk Yusa (Memorabilia of the Three Kingdoms), states that the nine-story pagoda at Hwangnyong Temple was built to eliminate problems caused by inauspicious geographical features, which would clearly suggest an early interaction between Buddhism and geomancy. Ch’oe Ch’iwon’s 崔致遠 Taesŭngboksabimyŏng 大嵩福寺碑銘 contains a story about the cultural clash between Buddhism and geomancy over the selection of a location



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for a royal tomb in the late eighth century. The inscription refers to the conflict between the king and his ministers (and the two mainstream cultural elements of Buddhism and geomancy) concerning the location of Kok Temple 鵠寺, which was considered to be so auspicious in terms of geomancy that it should be used as the location for King Wonsŏng’s 元聖王 (785–798) tomb.5 This conflict signaled victory for the cultural rise of geomancy over the older and culturally dominant Buddhism. The inscription mentioned above suggests that Kok Temple was already located in an area geomancy considered auspicious before the late eighth century, but it is not known whether the temple location was directly influenced by geomancy principles or whether its auspicious location was just coincidental. However, our assumption that the Buddhism-geomancy interaction had already begun in the early seventh century, late Three Kingdoms Period, is supported by evidence that the location of Wanghŭng Temple 王興寺, whose construction commenced during King Pŏbwang’s 法王 rule in the year 600, demonstrates typical paesan imsu 背山臨水 (water in the front and mountain behind) geomancy positioning,6 and that various non–Zen Buddhist temples, including those founded by Wonhyo 元曉 (617–686) and Ŭisang 義湘 (625–702), also display geomantic features. In fact, it is quite possible to trace the beginnings of interaction between Buddhism and geomancy in Korea all the way back to the fourth century when Buddhism was first introduced from China, as geomancy had already existed and interacted with Buddhism in China for a long time before its introduction in Korea. I conjecture that the introduction of geomancy as an idea was much earlier than the deliberate application of its theory in relation to site location. Therefore the time of widespread of geomancy as an art of selecting auspicious sites was during the later period of the Silla dynasty when Zen Buddhism was introduced from China to Korea. In Japan, however, the interaction between Buddhism and geomancy is thought to have begun much later as there is no mention of geomancy in any extant records dated before the thirteenth century document that refers to the first occasion of geomantic influence in the construction of a Buddhist temple.7 Interaction between Zen Buddhism and Geomancy Zen Buddhism was brought to China by the Indian monk Bodhidharma in the early sixth century, and soon after its arrival began a cooperative interaction with the already popular theory of geomancy, which resulted in geomancy influencing the selection of locations for Zen temples. It was around the ninth century when Korean Zen monks, who had studied in China and returned home to Korea, also adopted geomantic practices for determining temple locations. Traces of the relationship between Buddhism and geomancy in Chinese history can be found in documentary records and are evidenced by the location choices of Zen Buddhist temples. According to Jiangxi Tongzhi 江西 通志, Sima Toutuo 司馬頭陀 studied geomancy and visited many mountains in the Hongdu 洪都 region, now known as Nanchang 南昌, and also discussed temple locations with

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Zen Master Baizhang 百丈.8 Zen Buddhist temples built in China by Zen Master Mazu 馬祖 (709–788) display features that are undoubtedly influenced by the geomantic principles of location. Many of these temples are located in the Jiangxi region, which was the center of the Form School 形勢論, one of the two geomantic schools.9 The vigorous interaction between the two ideologies was reflected in the location of temples, which promoted the development of the Jiangxi 江西 region as the cultural capital of Zen Buddhism. Zen Buddhism was introduced to Korea in the late Silla period and brought with it prosperity from China. Most of the early Zen (Kusan 九山) Buddhist temples in Korea were located in auspicious geomancy areas, as most of the founding Kusan Zen monks had studied in China and were exposed to the teachings of Zen Master Mazu of the Jiangxi region. The Zen Buddhism and geomancy connection is further supported by Tosŏn’s records and inscriptions and the fact that geomancy was used by Zen Buddhist monks in choosing the location for temples and shrines (Ch’oe Pyŏnghŏn 1975, 133–138). In short, ideas arising from the geomancy–Zen Buddhist interaction spread across the nation in the late Silla period because of their influence on spatial expansion principles related to the location of Zen Buddhist temples. So what circumstances supported the geomancy–Zen Buddhism interaction during the late Silla period? At the beginning, Zen Buddhism was embraced by the powerful hojok 豪族 (local gentry) as a new ideology to fight against the dominant Kyojong 敎宗 (non-Zen) Buddhism. This meant that Zen Buddhist temples had to be built in remote, mountainous areas, outside Kyŏngju 慶州 and other major cities, where royal and noble families maintained a strong political presence. In this alternative natural environment, geomancy’s location theory, which focuses on geographical features such as streams and mountains, proved a better tool than the conventional method that relied heavily on the proximity to religious and sacred areas and on fortune-telling methods. Meanwhile, geomancy, along with Zen Buddhism, gained popularity among the local gentry during the political chaos of the late Silla period, for unlike conventional views, which held that the sacred areas 靈地觀 (yŏngjigwan) and the Buddha Land 佛國土 地理觀 (Pulgukt’o chirigwan) were limited to the national center of Kyŏngju, geomancy contained a revolutionary ideology that any area that meets the requirements can be a national center. Also, Zen’s naturefriendly philosophy was certainly a plus for Buddhism-geomancy. The connection between geomancy and Buddhism at that time was the practical consideration of suitable locations for supporting Zen’s meditation-centered spiritual exercises. Zen Master Tosŏn was known to be the person who promoted a new social ideology calling for reinforcing geomantic landscapes by constructing Buddhist temples and pagodas 寺塔 裨補說 (sat’ap pibosŏl). He is the most important person in the history of Buddhism-geomancy interactions in Korea. The Buddhism-geomancy interaction took place during the time of Zen Master Tosŏn and the Zen monks belonging to the Zen School of Nine Mountains 九山禪門 (Kusan Sŏnmun) during the transitional period between the fall of the Silla dynasty and the rise of the Koryŏ dynasty. This idea of the association of Bud-



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dhism and geomancy was passed on to monks, T’aego Pou 太古 普愚 (1301–1382) of the late Koryŏ period, and then to Muhak Chach’o 無學 自超 (1327–1405) in the early Chosŏn period. A Revolutionary Ideology of Space Geomancy combined with Buddhism in the late Silla period and gave rise to a new social, spatial ideology, which was a cultural transformation brought about by revolutionary groups familiar with the culturally emergent ideology and theory of pibo or pibo sat’apsŏl. The idea of establishing Buddhist temples and pagodas for the purpose of geomantic reinforcement of landscape is the result of combining spatial conception in Zen Buddhism and geomancy. This new cultural phenomenon was significant in that it was a departure from the normative, Kyŏngju-centered view of Buddha Land that was supported by royals and nobles and Kyojong Buddhist groups. The transformative pibo theory and ideology triggered a revolution of Zen Buddhism against non–Zen Buddhism. Previously, until then, Silla’s Pulgukt’o 佛國土 (Buddha Land) or Kŭngnak Chŏngt’o 極樂淨土 (Pure Land), i.e., Buddhist utopia, had been limited geographically to the capital region of Kyŏngju and the Buddha Land center was reserved for royal and noble families. Silla’s leaders resided in Kyŏngju and they reinforced the idea that the capital was metaphorically the Buddhist utopia by building Buddhist temples across Kyŏngju and by placing revered Hwaŏm 華嚴 (Huayan) temples at important locations on the outskirts of the capital to defend the city. The nation’s major temples, which included Pulguk Temple 佛國寺 on Mt. T’oham, Kap Temple 甲寺 on Mt. Kyeryong, Hwaŏm Temple 華嚴寺 on Mt. Chiri, Pusŏk Temple 浮石寺 on Mt. T’aebaek, and Miri Temple 美理寺 on Mt. P’algong, were located on the five geographically important mountains in the east, west, south, north, and middle of the city. Of course, the spatial ideology of Silla’s leadership was Kyŏngju-centered and was only concerned with the development of the capital. During Silla’s last days in the ninth century, however, the society encountered serious chaos. Political leaders became defiant and threatened to secede from the government, while at the same time, dissent from commoners suffering from hunger and misery led to some instances of rebellion. The situation proved opportunistic for the local hojok, who were seeking a means to establish their own foundation, independent of the capital and of intervening nobles. This would require a revolutionary ideology such as the new spatial ideology to back the revolutionary group and overcome the capital-centered ideology of the royal and noble families. The pibo philosophy rode on this wave of change and was considered politically suitable as a revolutionary ideology of space for the local gentry of the time. After the gentry’s rise to power in the late Silla period, geomancy was reinterpreted as an ideological driving force to navigate the transition period. Zen Buddhism contributed to this with the revolutionary idea that human beings who stay away from the authoritative, showy formality of non–Zen Buddhism and seek to

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attain Buddhahood, in fact, can become Buddhas. The geomantic spatial perspective overcame the existing Buddhistic attempt to transform the capital city, Kyŏngju, to a Buddha Land as well as the ruling royal class’s belief in the special spiritual quality of the capital city. Instead the geomantic idea offered people an opportunity to consider national land as a whole, thus realizing that Kyŏngju was not at the center of the nation but located at a corner of the national territory. This new understanding of the national territory made some people to realize that other regions could replace Kyŏngju as the center (or the capital) of the nation. Owing to the application of geomantic ideas, Buddhist temples in rural and mountainous locations that were previously insignificant came to be recognized as distinguished Buddhist sites that were to serve as local cultural centers in their respective regions.10 Tosŏn’s spatial ideology offered a new approach with its emphasis on the need to balance development in all the provincial regions, as these areas are closely connected to the central capital. Tosŏn asserted that the chaos of the late Silla period, with the famine and natural disasters suffered by the common people, happened because the national land was unhealthy, and to get the land in balance again, temples and pagodas should be strategically placed in various locations around the country, analogous to acupuncture points. His view placed Zen Buddhism as an ideological challenger against the non–Zen Buddhism geographical ideology, and the royals’ and nobles’ limited view that revolved around the three and five mountains in Kyŏngju. This marked a shift from the previous practice where temples were built in places deemed sacred in commemoration of the founders, to a new practice where areas deemed inauspicious by geomantic standards were redeemed by building temples and pagodas. In short, with its orientation toward geographically balanced development, Tosŏn’s pibo theory was embraced by the local hojok as a revolutionary ideology in the transition period. Pibo theory and pibo sat’apsŏl practice were adopted by Wang Kŏn 王建, a man of the gentry from the Kaesŏng 開城 or Song’ak 松嶽 area, who supported the founding of a new dynasty based on a spatial, political ideology; Wang Kŏn was the founder of the new Koryŏ dynasty, and he employed pibo theory as a functional ideology for land planning as a means to unify the center (Kaesŏng) with the rest of the country. 3. Buddhism and Geomancy in Connection with Political Leadership Throughout the Koryŏ period, interaction between Buddhism and geomancy took place on a wider scale with the leadership’s support, as the leadership sought to strengthen their political power by using Buddhism and geomancy as their tools. In this period, Buddhism and geomancy grew in close connection with the country’s leadership, gaining mainstream status. The Koryŏ founder Wang Kŏn built many pibo temples in the capital and in the rest of the country in an effort to restructure the country’s geographical system in accordance with Tosŏn’s pibo



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theory. During the government of the late Koryŏ dynasty, the chiri yŏn’gi pibo 地理延期裨補 ceremony was performed, a ritual for reinforcing the shortcomings of a geomantic landscape by combining elements of Buddhism and geomancy. Sometimes a monk knowledgeable about the art of geomancy was appointed as a court consultant to the government on geomantic affairs. Some monks skilled in practicing geomancy were recruited as geomancy specialists in the site-selection process for important construction projects and advised the royal and noble families on geomantic matters. Buddhism-geomancy interaction in the Koryŏ period can be divided into two parts, the early period, when pibo sat’apsŏl was practiced, and the late period, when chiri yŏn’gi pibo was performed. In the Koryŏ dynasty, geomancy’s power-of-land theory was combined with Buddhist beliefs to establish a fundamental ideology for the country’s well-being. After unifying the later three kingdoms, Koryŏ founder Wang Kŏn repaired and reorganized temples across the country based on pibo sat’apsŏl. Later, pibo theory was vigorously used to guide the construction of a defense system for the capital city of Kaesŏng, and was used as an ideological tool to achieve unity between the capital and the rest of the country in establishing an effective management system for the king’s administrative power and control of the gentry groups in the local regions. As part of the capital’s city planning, national pibo sites or Kukka Piboso 國家 裨補所, such as five temples and ten temples, were built in the capital city of Kaesŏng, and areas deemed inauspicious were patched up with pibo temples, such as Kaeguk Temple 開國寺, Yŏnbok Temple 演福寺, Sŏngdŭng Monastery 聖燈庵, Kwanŭm Grotto Temple 觀音窟, etc. With the policies of reorganization for noncapital areas, pibo temples were also established throughout the rest of the country. Beginning with the temples designated as pibo according to the sanch’ŏn sunyŏk 山 川 順逆 theory during King T’aejo’s 太祖 reign, main temples were reconstructed in each administrative town and more and more temples were certified by the king and Buddhist sects, until eventually all temples in the country received status as pibo sites (Han 2006, 39–44). The historical record reveals that the Koryŏ government performed the chiri yŏn’gi pibo ceremony for 49 years during the mid-Koryŏ period when the capital was moved to Kanghwa Island 江華島, then known as Kangdo 江 都. Chiri yŏn’gi pibo was a pibo practice that aimed to ensure good fortune for the nation or dynasty by building fake or temporary palaces at certain locations carefully chosen according to geomancy principles, then having the king or his robe remain in the building for a designated period of time. Chiri yŏn’gi pibo displayed characteristics of a combination of esoteric Buddhism and geomancy, described in the Koryŏsa 高麗史 (History of the Koryŏ Dynasty) “Paek Sŭnghyŏn said to the king, ‘If we construct a pond around the Mt. Mani fortress and the king performs rituals there, and also if we construct a fake or temporary palace in Sinnidong and set Taebul Chŏng’osŏng Toryang 大佛頂五星道場 there, problems surrounding the mandate to pay tribute to China will go away and we will be receiving tribute from the great nation.’ The king listened to him and ordered Paek Sŭnghyŏn, Cho

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Munju, Kim Ku, Song Sŏngnye, among others, to construct a fake palace” (Koryŏsa, fasc. 123, ser. 36, “Paek Sŭnghyŏn”). As discussed earlier, building a temporary or fake palace at certain locations was related to geomancy, but preparing Taebul Chŏng’osŏng Toryang or Taeirwang Toryang 大日王道場 or preaching the Lotus Sutra 法華經 were aspects of Buddhist practice. Taebul Chŏng’osŏng Toryang and Taeirwang Toryang were associated with esoteric Buddhism; Koryŏ adopted these esoteric Buddhist practices for religious, political, and martial purposes, to protect the nation and its people from foreign invasions by using the divine guardianship and blessings of the Buddha and bodhisattvas (Sŏ 1994, 45, 269–300). Toward the end of the Koryŏ period, Buddhism-geomancy connections began to decline, quickly disappearing from official realms in the early Chosŏn period, and thereafter, barely maintaining a weak presence, except at a grassroots level. It was during this period when Buddhism and geomancy lost their former influence in society and status in mainstream culture that they continued to be recognized in unofficial and low-level spheres. The influence of Buddhism-geomancy interaction declined in the late Koryŏ period because of the financial trouble caused by the construction of too many temples. The connection was further weakened by the Chosŏn dynasty’s emphasis on Confucianism and the suppression of Buddhism. Relocation of the capital to Hanyang at the beginning of the Chosŏn dynasty was the main cause for the reduction and elimination of existing pibo temples and pagodas around Kaesŏng. During King Sŏngjong’s 成宗 reign (1469–1494), sat’ap pibosŏl went into a steep decline after being harshly criticized and denied by Chosŏn’s pro-Confucian government officials. Pibo theory was stripped of its Buddhist function but continued as a geomantic ideology until it also declined at the end of the fifteenth century. Thus, the Buddhism-geomancy relationship, which had maintained a tenuous presence in official sectors even into the early Chosŏn period, finally faded away at the end of the fifteenth century. However, the art of geomancy was still employed by Buddhists as a way to enhance the Buddhist faith among the people, and the Buddhism-geomancy interaction continued at the grassroots level among the common people. This interaction was mainly through some popular writings containing the geomantic prophecies attributed to famous geomancer-Buddhist monks and the appearance of Buddhist monks as charitable geomancers in geomantic folk tales.11 4. Mutually Beneficial Relationships between Buddhism and Geomancy Buddhism’s Influence on the Spread of Geomancy Buddhism in Korea contributed significantly to the spread of geomancy, while monks were Buddhist agents for the spread of geomantic knowledge. Zen Bud-



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dhism and Zen monks of the late Silla period played a large part in the spread of geomancy nationwide. In China, Buddhism and geomancy were introduced to ethnic minority regions at the same time as the spread of Buddhism and Daoism. Thus, the close relationship between Buddhism, Daoism, and geomancy provided a good environment for the introduction and ongoing development of geomancy.12 Geomancy was probably introduced to Korea on many different levels and in many different ways, but as mentioned earlier, it is most likely to have accompanied the introduction of Buddhism for the practical purpose of determining temple locations in the Three Kingdoms period. It certainly achieved widespread influence together with Buddhism, although its practice remained limited to the royal family and the people in power residing in the capital regions.13 The turning point for the spread of geomancy to a wider audience outside the royal and noble families in the capital city came about through the activities of Zen Buddhist monks in the late Silla period through to the early Koryŏ period. The social context from the late Silla period until the early Koryŏ period allowed intellectuals such as the literati and Zen Buddhist monks to accept Buddhism and geomancy without resistance, facilitating the spread and interaction between Buddhism and geomancy.14 Zen Buddhist monks used geomancy as a way to educate the common people, as can be seen in this definition of geomancy by the extraordinary person who taught geomancy to Tosŏn: “Geomancy is another way for great bodhisattvas to save the world and the people 大菩薩救世度人之法.” Tosŏn’s pibo theory had a significant influence on Koryŏ’s spatial planning and management, causing geomancy to trickle into the mainstream leadership of the society. Geomancy’s large influence can be seen in the fact that Koryŏ’s government gave geomancy-related positions and jobs to monks and frequently consulted with geomancy monks. Chosŏn’s suppression of Buddhism forced Buddhist monks to hide themselves among the common people, which effectively allowed geomancy to reach people at a grassroots level as the monks used it to spread Buddhism. Buddhism’s Influence on the Establishment of Geomancy Pibo Theory Historically, Buddhism influenced geomancy and gave birth to the geomancy pibo theory, which in turn influenced geomantic theories and ideology. Geomancy pibo theory is an artificial supplement to the original geomancy; it maintains that geographical features and land virtue can change the fate of the nation, and that by mending inauspicious geographical features the nation can avoid decline and extend its good fortune. Buddhist elements that contributed to geomancy pibo theory included esoteric Buddhism and a belief in pagodas that enshrine sacred relics.15 The spatial viewpoint of Buddhism influenced that of geomancy and helped form the basis of the geomancy pibo theory. The pibo belief that natural defects can be mended artificially was a product of Buddhism’s view that human beings are capable of perceiving the world and

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seeking their own happiness by observing cause-effect relationships over the course of their life. The methods and techniques used in the pibo sarit’ap theory were an improvement on faith-based sarit’ap (pagodas enshrining sacred relics) and the theory of chinho sat’ap (protection by temples or pagodas). With regard to the relationship with nature, pibo theory affirms human beings’ free will against nature, while conventional geomantic theory is passive and determinist. The theory of pibo puts human beings in a mediator position by allowing them to have the ability to change the qi 氣 (power of land) of inauspicious areas by using appropriate pibo tools.16 The human-centered perspective of pibo is also in line with the esoteric Buddhist belief that one can attain Buddhahood while still in the flesh. To sum up, superstitious beliefs that prevailed in the Silla period, such as Yŏngjigwan (sacred land perspective) and Pulgukt’o chirigwan (Buddha Land perspective), were rejected by the geomantic ideology of space that prevailed in the late Silla period through to the early Koryŏ period. And the nature-centered perspective of conventional geomancy was also rejected by the human-centered perspective of Buddhism, giving birth to the pibo theory that asserts that the power of the land or the lack thereof, can be repaired using Buddhist tools such as the construction of temples or pagodas. Geomantic Influence on Temple Locations In regard to geomancy’s influence on the location of Buddhist temples, historically there were three methods for the selection of a temple location: calling on Buddhist spirits to find the sacred location, consulting the results of kanja fortune-telling, and using geomancy to find an auspicious location. sacred location with buddhist spirits The early Buddhist community in India didn’t require a permanent residence because it held a mendicant and bodhisattva lifestyle. However, due to India’s climate, a new rule was soon devised, which allowed monks to stay in residence during the three-month monsoon season. This led to the construction of the first Buddhist temple for monks, known as Veluvana Vihara 竹林 精舍. The method of selecting temple locations changed when Buddhism came to China. Buddhist belief soon combined with the much older custom of mountain worship, leading to the belief that mountains are sacred places where Buddhas or bodhisattvas reside—for example, Mt. Wutai 五臺山 with Manjusri Bodhisattva 文殊菩薩, Mt. Emei 峨眉山 with Samantabhadra Bodhisattva 普賢菩薩, and Mt. Putuo 普陀山 with Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva 觀音菩薩. This kind of belief came to Korea with the introduction of Buddhism from China. The Korean people, even prior to Buddhism, had long believed in the supernatural powers of beings present in sacred mountains and rivers, known as yŏngji kwannyŏm 靈地 觀念. However, with Buddhism’s arrival in Korea, such places came



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to be associated with bodhisattvas of the past, known as Pulgukt’o yŏn’gisŏl 佛國土 緣起說. The conventional non–Zen Buddhist temples were built in sacred locations where holy Buddhist spirits were believed to reside.17 Samguk Yusa (Memorabilia of the Three Kingdoms) provides examples of such locations, shown in table 14.3. location selection using kanja 簡子 Another method used for selecting a temple location was by sorting using kanja. In the year 832, Simji 心地, a disciple of Chinp’yo 眞表 and the founder of Tonghwa Temple 桐華寺 on Mt. P’algong, used kanja for location selection as follows: “Since we were not able to find the right location to enshrine the sacred kanja, we went up to the peak of the mountain with the three lords and gods and threw the kanja to the west. We built the six Buddhist fortune-telling messages written on pieces of bamboo shrine at the location where the wind carried it, and that’s the small spring, located north of Tonghwa Temple” (Samguk Yusa, fasc. 4, ch. 5, “Simjigye-jo”).18

Table 14.3.  Examples of Sacred Locations with Buddhist Spirits in Samguk Yusa. Temple

Supernatural Characteristics of Location

Source in Samguk Yusa

Naksan Temple Bamboos soared as taught by a T’apsang 4 “Naksan Yi bodhisattva. Taesŏng” Hwangnyong Temple A yellow dragon appeared.

T’apsang 4 “Kasŏppul Yŏnjwasŏk”

A divine man imparted knowledge. Yŏngt’ap Temple

T’apsang 4 “Koryŏ Yŏngt’apsa”

Rocks with four-direction Buddha Taesŭng Temple inscriptions fell down from the sky.

T’apsang 4 “Sabulsan Kulbulsan Manbulsan”

Rocks with four-direction Buddha Kulbul Temple inscriptions rose from within the ground.

Same as above

Saeng’ŭi Temple A stone image of Buddha appeared.

T’apsang 4 “Saeng’ŭisa Tol Mirŭk”

Manjusri Bodhisattva imparted Chŏng’am Temple knowledge.

T’apsang 4 “Taesan Oman Chinsin”

Poch’ŏn Monastery

Same as above

A blue lotus flower appeared.

Unmun Temple The God of the West Sea made a request.

Ŭihae 5 “Poyang Imok”

Hyeryong’wang Temple

T’apsang 4 “Chŏnhu Sojang Sari”

Sacred clouds formed at the top of the mountain.

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This is illustrated in the account of Zen Buddhist founder Pŏmil 梵日 (810–889) who used kanja at Mt. Sagul 闍崛山 to select the location for Naksan Temple 洛山寺 in 858 (Samguk Yusa, fasc. 3, “Naksan Yi Taesŏng, Kwanŭm, Chŏngch’i, Chosin”). This suggests that from the year 740 when Chinp’yo received kanja, the temple location selection method that utilized kanja was continued until the mid-ninth century when Simji and Pŏmil are both recorded as having chosen locations using the kanja method. In other words, the kanja method of selecting temple locations was still being used in the eighth and ninth centuries. It is important to note that the geomancy method of location–site selection was also used in the same period, or a little later, which means that kanja and geomancy were both used in the late Silla period for selecting temple location, which also indicates that there was a transitional period from kanja to geomancy. selections of locations using geomantic principles Even though geomancy was introduced along with Buddhism and was used for temple location selection early on, it was not until Zen Buddhism came to Korea in the late Silla period that it began to be practiced nationwide. Geomancy’s comprehensive method of location selection with special consideration to geographical features of nature, distinguishes it from traditional superstitious methods used for selecting locations, such as Puryŏngji (location with Buddhist spirit) or kanja fortune-telling; this is why Buddhist monks who had studied geomancy in China were keen to embrace it as a preferred method for temple location selection. The two types of temple placement according to geomancy are 1) temples located in auspicious areas, and 2) pibo temples built for the purpose of repairing inauspicious influences. In the first type, temples were built in the best locations according to Geomancy principles and were used mainly for the purposes of Buddhist worship or practice. The second type of temple placement refers to pibo temples which were built with the purpose of mending geomancy defects at national borders or in the capital, rather than for Buddhist functions. 5. Conclusion In Korean history, Buddhism and geomancy are seen to have interacted with each other in a cooperative manner, together forming distinctive ideologies of beauty, ceremony, and cultural landscapes. As a result of this interaction, Buddhism contributed to the spread of geomancy and the establishment of the pibo theory, while geomancy had a significant influence on the location and placement of Buddhist temples. This paper has investigated the interaction between Buddhism and geomancy in Korea. First, the investigation included identifying and discussing several phases of interaction between Buddhism and geomancy; second, it has proven that the pibo geomancy theory was formed as a result of the Buddhism-geomancy interaction



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rather than as a function of geomancy alone; and third, characteristics of the pibo theory have been interpreted in light of a theory of geographically balanced development. Based on these research outcomes we can provide the following summary. Geomancy had long been associated with Buddhism in China. After it was introduced to Korea, along with Buddhism, it was applied to the selection of temple locations and in the late Silla period, spread across the nation, including the countryside. Zen Buddhist groups led the interaction between Buddhism and geomancy, which then gave birth to Tosŏn’s geomancy pibo theory, a revolutionary idea that empowered social transition in the late Silla period and into the early Koryŏ period. Buddhism and the art of geomancy were sometimes rivals but the overall relationship was cooperative and complementary. In the Koryŏ period, Buddhism and geomancy achieved status in mainstream culture and enjoyed nationwide influence. The political leaders combined elements of Buddhism and geomancy in the task of reorganizing and managing the nation, and in so doing set up pibo temples in the capital and the rest of the country. They also performed chiri yŏn’gi pibo, a ceremony combining aspects of Buddhism and geomancy practice for the purpose of extending good fortune to the nation and dynasty. In short, Buddhism and geomancy were closely embraced by leaders of the Koryŏ dynasty. In the Chosŏn period, Buddhism was suppressed by the government and its interaction with geomancy was also weakened. Tosŏn’s pibo theory was rejected by pro-Confucian government officials and it faded away in the middle of the fifteenth century. However, interaction between Buddhism and geomancy continued at a low-key level among commoners while books were written by famous monks in the geomantic-prophetic genre and geomantic folk tales were created. During this period, Buddhism and geomancy lost their power in the mainstream culture and continued at unofficial, low-key levels. Geomancy was closely associated with Buddhism and Confucianism, which have been two principal religions in Korean history. In this chapter we reviewed how geomancy interacted with Buddhism through political hegemonic power during the Koryŏ period. The next chapter introduces how the Chosŏn dynasty Confucian literati debated and treated the idea and practice of geomancy in Korea. Notes  1. This chapter is a revised version of my earlier paper in English, “Interaction between Buddhism and P’ungsu in Korea,” International Journal of Buddhist Thought and Culture 14 (2010): 161–86. The earlier paper in English is a modified and translated article of my paper in Korean with the same title, printed in the Taehan Chiri Hakhoeji (Journal of the Korean Geographical Society) 44, no. 1 (2009).   2. Liu Peilin, Fengshui: Zhongguorende Huanjingguan (Geomancy: The Chinese View of the Environment) (Shanghai: Shanghai Sanlian Shudian, 1995), 259–61.   3. Ho Hiuyan and Luo Jun, Fengshuishi (The History of Fengshui) (Shanghai: Shanghai Wenyi Chubanshe, 1995), 126.

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  4. Gao Youqian, Zhongguo Fengshui (Chinese Geomancy) (Beijing: Zhongguo Huaqiao Chuban Gongshe, 1992), 201–2.   5. Taesŭngbok Temple’s inscription was on a tombstone on Mt. Ch’owol in the Silla period.   6. Iryŏn, Samguk Yusa, fasc. 3, ch. 3, “Pŏbwang Kŭmsal” pagoda; according to Watanabe Yoshio 渡邊欣雄, this was the first time the term geomancy was used in Japanese history (Kamakura 1956, 192; Watanabe Yoshio, “Okinawa-ŭi P’ungsu Yŏksa: Ryuk’yuguni [Yuguguk]-ŭi Kukch’aeg-iranŭn Kwanchŏm-esŏ” (The History of Geomancy in Okinawa: From the Perspective of the Ryukyu Kingdom’s State Policy), in “Tong’asia-ŭi P’ungsu”: Kukche Haksul Simp’ojium (The International Symposium “Pungsu/Fengshui in East Asia”) (Seoul: Kungnip Minsok Pangmulgwan, 2006), 8). Even after this date, the Buddhism-geomancy interaction was relatively low-key compared to the interaction taking place in China and Korea.   7. “Won’gaksa Munsŏ 圓覺寺 文書” (1354), a document about Won’gak Temple, cites geomantic considerations in the construction of a Buddhist temple.   8. Gao, Youqian, Zhongguo Fengshui, 196.  9. Mazu’s Youmin Temple and Baofeng Temple, Xitang Zhizang’s Baohua Temple, Baizhang Huaihai’s Baizhang Temple, Huangbo Xiyun’s Huangbo Temple, Yunju Daoying’s Jenru Temple, Caosan Benji’s Caosan Temple, and Sushan Guangren’s Sushan Temple. Mazu Daoyi’s Baofeng Temple on Mt. Shimen was located in a geomantic environment, dubbed “the place where nine dragons come together.” 10. Ch’oe, Pyŏnghŏn, “Tosŏn-ŭi Saeng’ae-wa Namal Yŏch’o-ŭi P’ungsu Chirisŏl: Sŏnjong-gwa P’ungsu Chirisŏr-ŭi Kwan’gye-rŭl Chungsim-ŭro Hayŏ” (The Life of Tosŏn and Geomantic Theory during the Late Silla and Early Koryŏ Dynasties: With a Focus on the Relationship between the Zen School and Geomancy), Han’guksa Yŏn’gu (Journal of Korean History) 11 (1975): 140. 11. Five appeared in Chŏnggamnok 鄭鑑錄. Tosŏn’s (827–898) Tosŏn Pigyŏl 道詵 秘訣, Ongnyong Pigyŏl 玉龍 秘訣, Ongnyongja Sipsŭngji Pigyŏl 玉龍子 十勝地 秘訣, Ongnyonggyŏl 玉龍訣, Ongnyongjagi 玉龍子記, etc., and Ŭisang’s (625–702) Ŭisang Taesawal 義湘 大師曰 in Nangsŏn’gyŏl 浪仙訣, Tang dynasty (712–756) Chinese monk Yixiang’s Yixingjue 一行訣, Yixingshishuo 一行師說, Muhak’s (1327–1405) Muhakchŏn 無學傳, Sŏsan Taesa’s 西山 大 師 (1520–1604) Sŏsan Taesa Pigyŏl 西山 大師 秘訣, etc. (An Ch’un’gŭn, ed. Chŏnggamnok Chipsŏng (The Complete Master Chŏng’s Mirror Record) (Seoul: Asea Munhwasa, 1973)). In addition, Ch’a Ch’ŏllo’s 車天輅 (1556–1615) Osan Sŏllim 五山 說林 introduced Ŭisang’s Sansu Pigi 山水 秘記. 12. Gao, Youqian, Zhongguo Fengshui, 212–14. 13. Ch’oe Pyŏnghŏn, Tosŏn-ŭi Saeng’ae-wa Namal Yŏch’o-ŭi P’ungsu Chirisŏl, 1975, 11. 14. Ch’oe Pyŏnghŏn, Tosŏn-ŭi Saeng’ae-wa Namal Yŏch’o-ŭi P’ungsu Chirisŏl, 1975, 119–22 15. Choi Won Suk, “Yŏngnam Chibang-ŭi Pibo,” 53–62. 16. Choi Won Suk, “Yŏngnam Chibang-ŭi Pibo,” 20. 17. Gao, Youqian, Zhongguo Fengshui, 227. 18. Il Yŏn, Samguk Yusa, fasc. 4, ch. 5, “Simjigye-jo.”

15 Geomantic Discourses of the Chosŏn Confucian Literati Hwa Lee

Chosŏn was an orthodox Confucian state established to realize Confucian ideals, particularly the ideal of propriety 禮 (li in Chinese). Nevertheless, despite the paradoxical fact that geomancy has often been dismissed as a thaumaturgy 雜術 and hence heterodox 左道, it was continually adopted for use during the Chosŏn period. Based on what reasoning, then, was the use of geomancy accepted by the state and what was the social and historical context for its adoption? To answer these questions, I will first discuss the discourse that prevailed within the Chosŏn royal court, and the discourse of the literati, the Confucian scholarofficials. Finally, I will describe the purposes for which geomancy was adopted. 1. Geomancy Discourse of the Chosŏn Royal Court: “Unbelievable but Indisposable” The discourse on geomancy during the Chosŏn period clearly reflected two diametrically opposing views. One view considered geomancy as encompassing its own system of logic that was seamlessly interwoven into human history. The other considered geomancy to be no more than a geographical expression of a sense of humanity’s sovereignty. The latter was often criticized as a form of divination based on landscape features. It was said to have raised unnecessary disputes and was therefore considered to be thaumaturgical. Also connected to this perspective was the notion that the study of geomancy was a shameful act unfit for Confucians. The position of the Confucians with regard to geomancy can generally be divided into the three categories of adoption, limited adoption, and rejection. This discourse of adoption or rejection largely became a polemical debate, because in an orthodox Confucian view geomancy could not be anything but heterodox. For geomancy to be accepted in whichever form, there had to be some justification. This was all the more important for several reasons. First, in a Confucian society the philosophy 329

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of living an ideal life based on human free will was emphasized. Second, it follows that geomancy did not correspond well to this ideal because fatalistic determinism was inherent in the ideas of geomancy. Lastly, geomancy was based on the logic of depending on the natural energies of the landscape, which was arguably unrelated to human history. These had been the underlying reasons for highlighting that its adoption was only within the limited boundaries of certain state affairs such as the construction of royal tombs or determining sites for a capital city. In the case of traditional Confucians, geomancy was not entirely dismissed but was seen as a practical aspect of everyday life. Furthermore, though it could not be considered the core subject of Confucian education, geomancy could still easily be considered part of Confucian liberal education. Such epistemological inconsistencies were not limited to the discourse of whether to abolish or to adopt geomancy. In other words, geomancy wasn’t merely recognized as a heterodoxy that needed to be abolished and that stood in opposition to the eternal and normative way 常道 of Confucianism. Instead, geomancy came to be adopted paradoxically as “unbelievable but indisposable”: “Although the doctrine of geomancy cannot be accepted in its entirely, it also cannot be entirely rejected.”1 The epistemological foundation that allowed for a simultaneous admission of opposing views was the culture of “adapting to exigent circumstances 權道,” through which geomancy was accepted within Confucian ideological boundaries. Although its methods and ways deviated from orthodox ideals, it was accepted on the basis of fulfilling the means of national purpose 國用. In other words, geomancy was accepted as an exigent means that supported the “superior means” of Confucianism. Chosŏn Confucians practiced the “eternal way 經常之道” that protected “propriety.” But in varying circumstances when the “eternal way” was inapplicable, alternative means were available. Simply put, other methods were adopted that were fitting to the circumstances. It was within this context that the problems of Buddhism, shamanism, and the Sogyŏksŏ 昭格署 (Office for Daoist Rituals) became objects of discussion, foremost as alternative means. This allowed the Confucians to respond to extenuating circumstances using supplementary means categorized as Means of Adaptability 變通之法 or Circumstantial Rituals 變禮. This was important because the Principles of Righteousness 義理之法, otherwise known as “methods of regularity 經常,” were not violated: The Sahŏnbu 司憲府 [Censorate] presented a memorial to the king, saying, “To prepare for unexpected crises during uneventful times is the common practice of governance. To observe whether it is a time of plenty or of famine and to implement policies accordingly is the contingent authority 大權 of governance. The core principle 經 of governance will at times require change. Therefore, the capacity to judge a situation and make a decision 權 comes about by adhering to the situation. Throughout all times and places, between maintaining the core principle and exercising judgment one can never forsake one for the other.”2



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In this manner, by way of adjusting to exigent circumstances, a restrictive standard was always presupposed to reinforce the logic behind the acceptability of geomancy. That presupposition was based on the idea of “obeying the will of heaven while following the voices of the people 應天 順人”: Divining the location for the moving of a capital is an affair of utmost importance. It is not something that can be settled by the views of one or two people, but rather must be in accordance with the will of Heaven and must follow the desires of the people. Only afterwards can it be done. Therefore, the Shujing 書經 [Classic of History] says: “The tortoise shells are in accordance with it, the milfoil stalks are in accordance with it, the ministers and knights are in accordance with it, and the common people are in accordance with it.” Without their consent, it cannot be decided. As for this issue of whether or not to move the capital, it has its rightful time and fortuitous day. Your servant dares only say very little. Your majesty was chosen by Heaven, and observes the directions of the people’s hearts, and thus follows [the will of] Heaven. What is important, is that your majesty is indeed aware of Heaven’s will and is monitoring the general opinion of the public, and therefore you are willing to follow the will of Heaven in your intentions to move the capital.3 This logic of accepting and rejecting geomancy concurrently, like the two sides of a coin, became an important idiom. The restrictive standard of adoption became concrete within the discourse of geomancy to which Confucian predecessors 先儒 have referred. 2. Chinese Confucian Predecessors’ Geomancy Practical Index The nature and ground for considering geomantic features were discussed at court among the learned Confucian scholars as follows. In their debate a noticeable point is the Chosŏn Confucian literati’s references to Chinese Confucian predecessors: In his memorial presented to King Sejong, a court officer 校吏 [kyori] of the Chiphyŏnjŏn 集賢殿 [Hall of Worthies], Ŏ Hyo Ch’ŏm 魚孝瞻, asserted, “Before the period of the Three Dynasties, there were no such false theories of geomancy. Therefore, according to the ceremonies and rites which the Duke of Zhou established, there was only the divination by milfoil stalk of burial sites, and the divination by tortoise-shell of the day, and that was all. Confucius also said, ‘They consult the tortoise-shell to determine the grave and the ground about it, and there they lay the body in peace.’4 Beginning in the Han dynasty, conjurers 術家 began to appear, each establishing his own theories of auspicious and inauspicious, and of fortune and disaster,

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thus greatly misleading and bewitching the common people. . . . In the Song dynasty, Sima Guang’s5 司馬光 Zanglun 葬論 [Discourse on Burial] states: ‘the common people put their faith in what is said by the “masters of internment 葬師” in selecting the year, month, day, and season, and also in choosing the specific conditions of the mountains and waters. Even if it were genuinely possible for them to determine the auspicious or inauspicious nature of the burial, how could a person restrain from making the relatives of the deceased anxious in order to seek his own profit? And Chengzi 程子 stated in his theory of burial rites 葬說, ‘choosing a site for burial is examining whether a place is beautiful or not, and the yin-yang theorists’ talk of whether a place is auspicious or calamitous can be determined by whether that place has fertile soil and proper concentration of vegetation. They try to either support certain things or ban certain things, by choosing the direction the burial site should face, and by gauging the auspicious level of a particular date. Is this not indeed obsessive? Only the five disasters 五患 should be avoided in deliberations . . .’ Zhu Xi 朱 熹 answered, ‘a particular site should be regarded as acceptable when the geomantic features complement each other 拱揖, and there are no gaps in the overall condition of the region. People arguing things like “this kind of mountain is what I need” or “this kind of river is what I need” is quite simply not appropriate and also not possible.’ From his answer, we can see that theories of determining a condition to be either auspicious or calamitous based upon geomantic factors were not entirely embraced by the renowned Confucian scholars of the Song dynasty. . . . The fortune of the country is usually determined by the Mandate of Heaven 天命 and the will of the general public 人心. It has nothing to do with geomantic features. . . . The will of Heaven should be primarily considered the main (proper) line 主脈 and the opinion of the public should be consulted as a complementing object 案對. . . . How is the contentious and heretical doctrine 邪說 of geomantic features and its auspicious or calamitous fortune worthy of our discussion?”6 It is clear from the above that geomancy had been considered a heretical doctrine, as a result of which it had to be abolished. However, it undeniably had been a topic of consistent discussion among the high-standing Confucians. Its usefulness had arguably been closely related to filial piety, the aesthetics of landscapes, and the selection of burial sites. Zhu Xi in his Shanling Yizhuang 山陵議狀 (Discourse on Imperial Tombs) stated that “though it is based on the art of yin-yang and divination, it is not without any fundamental principles.” Based on this idea he defined the essence of geomancy as an art of appreciating the aesthetics of the landscape, of hills and mountains. The following contents are based on the Duli Tongkao 讀禮通考 (Complete Study of Rites), fasc. 83, written by Xu Qianxue 徐乾學 in 1696 and then reedited



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by Chŏng Yagyong 丁若鏞, along with the Yŏyudang Chŏnsŏ 與猶堂全書 (Complete Works of Yŏyudang), Yejip 禮集 (Collection on Rites), fasc. 3, no. 24, “P’ungsu Chibŭi 風水 集議” (A Focused Discussion on Geomancy), which was written in 1825. This book contains discussions on geomancy by 26 Confucian scholars, but the contents of their discussions are not different greatly from following: Lü Cai 呂才 of the Tang dynasty argued that one should examine a site with good intention of not damaging a burial place: this mindfulness fulfills the propriety of deliberate completion 愼終之禮. Sima Guang criticized the use of geomancy for the elaborate and extravagant funeral rites and advised that it should be used in performing human affairs in a modest manner [i.e., funeral rites, children’s obligation to parents]. Chengzi and Zhangzi 張子 commented on the points to avoid at funeral rites and argued that geomancy is only for distinguishing a beautiful site from an ugly one 地之美惡, and is not for determining and predicting the quality of fortunes to extract from the site. Zhang Jiucheng 張九成 emphasized the importance of the surviving children’s respect for their parents [i.e., “the heart of a filial child 孝子 之心”] at their ancestral burial and despised geomancers’ deceptive and unreasonable geomantic art. Zhen Dexiu 眞德秀 strongly criticized the practice in geomancy of expecting auspicious blessings such as material wealth, longevity, wisdom, and prosperity. He condemned such practice as deviating from propriety and injuring righteousness 悖禮傷義.7 In the above discussion Chŏng Yagyong criticized excessive contemporary practices of geomancy and suggests that practical limitations be applied. Very early on Confucians have adopted geomancy within the Confucian epistemological doctrine of propriety. This is because the moment the discourse of geomancy departs from the boundaries of propriety it becomes a heresy that infringes on the Confucian cultural orthodoxy and therefore becomes an object to be seriously challenged. 3. Confucian Scholar-Officials’ Adoption of Geomancy Limited Adoption The Chosŏn royal court’s position on geomancy had been based on the view that it is “unbelievable but indisposable.” In a similar way, Confucian scholars held diametrically opposing views on geomancy. On the one hand it was considered to be a social evil that was no more than unverifiable nonsense.8 On the other hand, geomancy was considered to possess inexplicable sacredness and foretold the power of nature, a thing one “just had to believe.”9 The former was an antigeomancy

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viewpoint that saw the inexplicability of geomancy principles as irrational, which had to be thoroughly rejected. In contrast, the progeomancy stance saw the inexplicability of the geomancy principles as part of its sacredness and a fact that had to be accepted as an object of faith. However, the discourse led by Confucian scholar-officials did not take a dichotomous stance as seen above. In China the discourse on geomancy developed over time, culminating in the ideas expressed in Zhu Xi’s neo-Confucian “doctrine of the mean 中庸” (zhongyong). In a similar way, Confucian scholar-officials in Korea mainly adhered to Zhu Xi’s doctrine on geomancy. They argued that “the foundation for the doctrine of geomancy cannot be proven to be entirely baseless 不可 謂全無所據.” That is why, in essence, they first adopted geomancy on the practical basis, similar to how the doctrine of traditional yin-yang practitioners 術家 was accepted and practiced in Korea. Secondly, the doctrine of geomancy was nevertheless deemed worthy of academic study, though not as essential as formal education for Confucian literati. Thirdly, geomancy can be a system of thought that explains the principles of nature. geomancy practiced by the predecessors The history of how the Confucian forefathers adopted geomancy was passed down through time to the Chosŏn period, as were details of their ways of practice. Examples of practical application by Confucian scholar-officials are evident in historical anecdotes: One cannot say that geomancy theories are entirely baseless. Our ancestors have opened the Kwansanggam 觀象監 [Office of Examining Figures] and also established the Samhak 三學 [Three Studies]. Such age-old efforts have been meaningful, so abruptly abandoning it altogether would be a mistake. Yet geomancy theories are based upon calculations of the conjurers and are hard to verify, so one should not believe in them too much either. . . . Whenever a national issue would arise, the government would honor the institutions set up by the forefathers and consult the theories of the conjurers, yet never let their suggestions become overbearing on their decisions. In the past, our ancestral kings only consulted the conjurers to a certain extent, and although some changes happened with the passage of time, such practices did not conflict with the periodic needs or the circumstances. This is how it is possible for the original intentions behind the ancestors’ institutions to be maintained.10 Ancient Confucian scholars also discussed theories on searching for auspicious places 吉地. That’s the way the law of nature and circumstances [is]. With all due respect, examine the issue carefully and obtain sound counsel regarding it.11



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Even before geomancy specialists were officially commissioned in accordance with Chosŏn’s Kyŏngguk Taejŏn 經國大典 (Supreme Code for Ruling the State),12 they were called upon to consult on state affairs. At the suggestion of Ha Ryun, a senior government official during the time of King T’aejong, a system of “Ten Learnings” was established that included the topics of classical studies, military studies, calendrical studies, ethics, and so on. Included in this list was “yin-yang geomancy studies.” Because geomancy had been studied and put to use previously for state purposes, it was more easily officially accepted. It also follows that this is how, to a similar extent, it came to be accepted by Confucian scholar-officials in their personal lives. Such a limited adoption of geomancy was not only evident in the principles underlying national policies but also in the boundaries within the discourses of geomancy set by the Neo-Confucians. The burial site of Ŏ Hyoch’ŏm, mentioned above is a representative example. Another example in line with this argument is the burial site of Sŏae Yu Sŏngnyong 西厓 柳成龍. Sŏae faithfully accepted Zhu Xi’s Shanling Yizhuang to the extent that he insisted that the burial site under consideration must fit all seven aspects outlined by Zhu Xi.13 The important principles among these seven aspects are that the ancestral remains affect the descendants, and the rejection of geomancy that was based on the li-qi 理氣 doctrine, popular during the time of Zhu Xi. In other words there was a recognition that, over time, the status of geomancy had degenerated. This was also one of the reasons for the criticism of geomancy by Confucian scholar-officials. Thus the question is, what factor caused a once pure form to become “defiled” and, if possible, how could it be returned to its original form? The reason for the status degeneration was claimed to be the pursuit of fortune while desiring to repel misfortune. Originally, the purity that geomancy pursued was to understand decorum and civility and to benefit the people. However, the desire for fortune and the act of praying to ghosts for fortune led to a degenerated state where only fortuitous landscapes, mountains, and streams were sought after: Some say that Confucian scholars should discuss in general the ways of ghosts and spirits 鬼神 and geomancy theories. I would humbly suggest that ghosts and spirits are the means by which yin and yang are put into motion. The acts of divining and conjuring are the means through which auspicious and calamitous signs are distinguished. Geomancy is the means by which the sages are able to identify ways to benefit the people, and so it deserves a lofty status. How did it come about that the upright teaching the sages revealed to us would be passed on to later generations as a pernicious doctrine, that what the sages revealed to us that was constant would be passed on to later generations as an ignorant doctrine? It is because of this that there arose shamanism and the heretical doctrine of Tammyŏng, and geomancy. They all regard fortunes and misfortunes of

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human lives, but the questions and problems of mountains and streams were not discussed in the early times. . . . Nowadays geomancy has been reduced to explaining the fortunes and misfortunes of mountains and streams. The yongdu yong’i doctrine 龍頭 龍耳之說 argues that “the ultimate variable that produces a variety of fortunes and misfortunes is the auspicious nature of the land. Geomancy in the past was used only in order to determine the ups and downs in human lives, yet geomancers today are only concerned about the fortuitous nature of mountains and streams. They are only concerned about the afterlife, and are not interested in pursuing the true ways.”14 The arguments often referred to by early Confucians for the purpose of accepting geomancy were Zhu Xi’s “Five Requirements 五要” and Chengzi’s “Five Points to Avoid 五患.”15 Kim Sisŭp also gave five points relating to the adoption of geomancy. He states: Someone once mentioned, according to the Xiaojing 孝經 [Classic of Filial Piety], that the act of “divining and determining an auspicious place 宅兆 is for putting the dead to rest in peace.” This comment was not about either observing geomancy or avoiding it. It was about looking for a peaceful place to rest the dead. First, the soil had to be deep. Second, the water had to run deep. Third, the region was required to be able to sustain heavy pine trees and sapphire berry trees. Fourth, the region was not to be cultivated in spite of whatever changes it would go through in subsequent periods. Fifth, it had to be close to the residence so that memorial services 奠 could be held.16 The concept of a “defilement of what was once pure” discussed in the above was also noted during the Tang dynasty when geomancy was flourishing.17 Lü Cai, who investigated geomancy under the order of the first Tang emperor, recalled how the form of geomancy practiced during that time had degenerated from its original form. For example, Lü Cai stated that the instruction “funeral holder must conceal 葬者藏也” in the Liji 禮記 (Book of Rites) meant that originally the son had to protect his parents’ corpses from public exposure. Also, the admonishment to “divine a grave site” in the Xiaojing is interpreted as an instruction for divination using a turtle shell after the funerary ceremony in order to determine whether the remains will become damaged over time by changes in the grave site. Lü Cai disagreed that it meant a divination was to be carried out before the funeral to determine the auspiciousness of the sites. According to him, during early times these divinations were fulfilling necessary funerary rites and did not have any meaning that related to seeking fortune. He criticized the fact that the addition of yin-yang funerary methods resulted in the notion of divining being accepted into the funeral process. It came to be believed that if there were any



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problems during the process of choosing auspicious times or determining the distance of the funerary field, misfortune would befall the deceased and their descendents.18 In this way, what was originally a ceremony for the performance of propriety became corrupted for the purpose of pursuing fortune and dispelling misfortune. However, what was recognized as geomancy’s original purpose, that of performing propriety, was a vital justification for its use for state purposes 爲國用. In other words, as the Confucian historian during the Song dynasty, Sima Guang, insisted, determining the time and a place for a funeral in state conduct corresponded with the devising of a more simple system fitting people’s needs.19 Sima Guang also believed that this was also the basis for the corruption of geomancy. geomancy as a subject of study Though geomancy was not part of a Confucian education, it was considered at least as a subject of general education. The study of geomancy was recognized as part of a general education that the scholars of Confucian classics had to master. When we look through the admonitions regarding geomancy by Confucian court officials, it becomes clear that many books regarding geomancy had to be referenced to argue for its rejection. Also, according to the bibliographies recorded in the collections of writings of illustrious Confucian scholars, there are records indicating their proficiency in areas outside of classical studies. They include astronomy, geographical studies, and the writings of sages from various traditions, also referred to as zhuzishu 諸子書 (chejasŏ in Korean).20 Zhuzishu, or literature outside the Confucian tradition, was limited specifically to those who had already perfected Confucian classical studies, and the reason for its study was to train and guide those who belonged to traditions other than Confucianism.21 In this way, the study of geomancy was accepted, with limitations, as a subject of general education, but it was clearly dismissed as a subject to be included in the education for the king. For example, King Sejong had great interest in geomancy. Specialists of geomancy tried to include it in the royal curriculum, but their attempts were adamantly opposed by Confucian officials. It remained a subject of study for Confucian scholar-officials but King Sejong was only able to take an interest from afar.22 geomancy as a doctrine of nature’s principles Another important argument for the adoption of geomancy was that it was a system for the explanation of nature’s principles. The notion that the dynamic characteristics of qi 氣 and its effects formed the mountains and the rivers and streams, and that the energy in the earth explains the rise and fall of all things, are the fundamental ideas of geomancy. This was an important point through which geomancy as a logical system came to be recognized:

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The teachings of geomancy are not from enlightened persons, yet the existence of every inch of grass and every trunk of tree is based upon the land, so who is to say that the fact that the forest here was abruptly abolished has nothing to do with the decline of the village’s fortune in general?23 I asked, “People came to believe in geomancy too much, and it became an ailment of the world. Does that comment have any logic?” The answer to my question was, “The energy 風氣 of the mountains and rivers is concentrated in places, and it is scattered in other places, and even gathered in a condensed form in some other places. Where the energy is gathered the geographical features would appear dense, and where the energy is scattered the geographical features would seem scattered. It is proper to select a specific place after determining the condition of the energy.”24 There always has been a pattern in the mountains and streams, since the very beginning of the world. Only after a mountain grew into shape and became surrounded by rivers did the energy accumulate and start supporting human life, so an individual who would like to found an entire nation should be well versed in the workings of all these phenomena and be selective in choosing sites.25 Even while geomancy was recognized as a system for the explanation of nature’s principles, an opposing notion was imminent in this concept of geomancy. This was the notion that all things are divided and arranged by movements within the earth and not by Heaven’s mandate. This also brings into comparison other divergent viewpoints on geomancy. Nevertheless, this inclination is well illustrated in the following: “Pak Sech’ae said in Changpŏp 葬法 [Rules for Burial] that ‘The power and level of fortune are determined by the ground rather than the sky. Everything returns to the soil, and there is no good or bad in land itself. The principle 一理 and energy 一氣 are consecutive. The energy of the ancestors becomes the energy of the descendants, and a well buried corpse and pleased spirits of the ancestors can ease people’s minds, while also ensuring their good fortune, good health and compensation for all their troubles. Can anyone deny that such logic exists?’”26 As in the above excerpt, there were logical methods of adopting geomancy by Confucian scholar-officials. The argument of recognition did not cross beyond the bounds of rationalization, which was of similar arguments as “self-effecting 自取” or the “mind of filial piety 孝子之心.” The Polemics of the Confucian Adoption of Geomancy self-effecting and accumulating merits 積德 As discussed above, when the Chosŏn Confucian literati adopted geomancy, it was justified with limitations. An epistemological reasoning for the adoption was used that allowed for this form of justification. Chosŏn Confucian intellectuals believed



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that personal fortune or misfortune depended on one’s merits, but the country’s rise and fall depended on the merits of its king. The fate of a person or a country was not considered to be predetermined or decided according to deterministic powers like those of the earth’s energy. At most, the Confucian scholar-officials accepted the fatalistic notion of the Ultimate Mandate 正命, the notion that one’s life was decided by Heaven’s mandate intentions. However, the misdeeds in one’s life were not blamed on the fate determined by Heaven, rather it was perceived to be the fault of the self for not having correctly understood Heaven’s intentions. This was the way of a Confucian and the conviction of an illustrious scholar. It even became a common saying that when one experienced a mishap it was because one was not able to read the intentions of Heaven well. It was within this context that many scholar-officials quoted the Yijing 易經 (Classic of Changes) to emphasize one’s responsibility for one’s own fortunes or misfortunes. In this fashion, the maxims “self-effecting” or “accumulating merit” must be of the same underlying reasoning, where “humanistic cultivation” was the central idea rather than “fatalistic determinism.” The following is a record of a Chosŏn king’s self-admonition found in the Chosŏn Wangjo Sillok 朝鮮王朝實錄 (Annals of the Chosŏn Dynasty) that is a representative example of “humanistic cultivation”: The king held a ceremony to pray for rain at the Wondan 圓壇 [Round Altar, for sacrificial rites to Heaven]. In the ceremonial oration he said, “Ah, Heaven is the father of all things. Under Heaven, everything with sound, shape, and figure continues to grow and metabolize, and maintains a life and nature of its own. This is a crucial time in the year, it will determine the amount of harvest for this year and we are caught in a severe drought. I am tremendously perplexed and concerned. I do not know what to do, except to blame no one other than myself and reconsider my past actions. Are the inadequate penal punishments exacted in the past now haunting the innocent public? Are the unreasonable appointments of officials made by me in the past, or the disloyal and sly people who have entered the government because of those unreasonable appointments, now hurting the people? The people without a channel to inform the government of their conditions would not be able to resolve their frustrations, and people who have no family to depend on will suffer considerably from unjust taxation and mobilization. And even if officials are put in charge to oversee those matters, the one ultimately responsible for seeing to all that is me. My determination and intentions are important, and I cannot say that I did everything I could, or everything Heaven has ordered me to do. It is all my fault. I have no one else to blame.”27 The notion of “self-effecting” does not go beyond “Ultimate Mandate,” that which has been decided by Heaven. The way of Heaven is the supreme principle

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and it is believed that adversities and prosperities in human history either flow in harmony with heaven’s principles or against it: Sin Sukchu 申叔舟 and Ch’oe Hang 崔恒 annotated three chapters of Ŏje Yujangsŏl 御製諭將說 and presented them to the king. In the third chapter, it is said, “Everything in the universe acts in accordance with its own characteristics, and obtains its correct nature as appointed by the mandate of Heaven. Even though the things have the same physical form, same intentions, and same power and actions, their strong and tender actions differ from each other, and they contrast in their wisdom and foolishness. No one should bother to change it since it is the ultimate mandate from above. The ultimate way is one. There are tens of thousands of ways in which such a way may manifest itself, yet they all belong to the same kind and come down to a single response. Complying with the principles would lead to prosperity and violating the principles would lead to calamity. One of them always appears in the world, as life and death show up irregularly all the time. Distinction and humiliation are all obtained by no other than oneself and one cannot thank or blame others for the good or bad fortune. My arrogance toward another person would anger him, and arrogance toward the spirit would result in calamity. On the other hand, my reverence to Heaven will lead Heaven to provide me with fortune, and my faithful service to the public will please them. Fulfilling one’s duty and doing all that one can do is a quality that all things have.”28 As above, because scholar-officials followed the Ultimate Mandate, fate as determined by Heaven, they could not at the same time accept the argument of geomancy, the idea that people’s fates were determined by earthly dimensions, also known as geomantic features. However, if the fortuitous geomantic features of one’s land were ordained by Heaven, in other words, determined by the Heavenly dimensions, then it could be a product of “self-effecting” fate. This meant that fortune obtained from a geomantically fortuitous site was admissible since the fortune of a person who owned the land could coincide with Heavenly merits.29 Furthermore, it was not the case that geomantic concepts such as propitious grave sites or geomantically fortuitous land were rejected outright. Instead, geomantic concepts like fortuitous sites were not expressed as geomantic benefits 地利 but in terms of human conduct 人事. This was, in effect, an attempt to understand the practical desires of Chosŏn scholar-officials seeking propitious grave sites for their ancestors. This was within a context no different from understanding geomancy as the “humanistic shaping of space,” that was originally inherent in the ideas of geomancy. While on the one hand family grave sites were carefully selected according to geomantic ideas, on the other hand the scholar-officials employed justifications so as not to contradict Confucian ideals.30 Firstly, geomancy was denied as a divination practice and instead was argued to be related to human conduct. Another justifica-



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tion was that geomancy had once been an understanding of human conduct, but had changed with time.31 Lastly, geomancy was seen as fulfilling a sincere expectation,32 like a placebo pill, where a reburial at a better site would change misfortunes into fortunes. All these were an attempt to recognize geomancy as relating to the dimension of human conduct. In effect, among the scholar-officials who attempted to accept geomancy in terms of self-effecting fate, the idea of fortune-misfortune being dependent on geomantic features was excluded from their perspective: I am still having trouble understanding geomancy theories. The principles for this life and the principles for the afterlife are actually no different. Good fortune or misfortune, and prosperity or disaster, are all results of one’s own actions. How could one argue that “they are all like that because of the energy of a particular region?” This is the equivalent of saying that the supreme mandate of Heaven has relegated its authority to a pile of dirt.33 There may be particularly auspicious places. One might accidently come across them, yet one should not go a long way to find one.34 Nevertheless fortune-misfortune, the outcome of “self-effecting fate,” cannot be influenced through the accumulation of merits. It has even been suggested that rejecting the idea of accumulating merits is a precondition for ensuring a fortuitous site all together: Human lives are given by heaven. Long life, short life, rich life, poor life, healthy life and life of sickness, they are all predestined to be so by the will of the heaven. . . . The reason that acting with good intention brings good fortune and acting with bad intention brings bad fortune is because heaven compensates good deeds with fortune and punishes bad deeds with misfortune. Repayment in kind is nothing but natural. Yet certain good actions undertaken with ulterior motives, seeking fortune, are not necessarily be compensated as such.35 As above, securing a propitious site was not thought to be dependent on geomantic fortuities but rather on one’s merits in Heaven. Merits that did not coincide with Heaven’s merits could not be accumulated, yet the accumulation of merits was also not absolutely dependent on self-effecting fate. It was precisely the moderation of these connections that allowed the scholar-officials to accept and make use of geomancy. the heart of filial piety 仁孝之心 as an epistemological argument for adopting geomancy, the understanding that it is the object of self-effecting fate and the outcome of accumulation of merit were important. It was especially true when the adoption of geomancy was seen as a

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manifestation of a filial heart, an important aspect in a Confucian social order: “Benevolent people and those with filial piety are motivated to select sites in order to bury their parents. . . . How could they not carefully select such places when they wish to bury them in restful peace?”36 Zhu Xi’s Fengshui Bianzhengshuo 風水辨證說 (Investigation of Geomancy) states that the ultimate example of a filial heart is the desire to bury one’s parents in a safe and comfortable place, and is expressed through selecting the best possible burial site. This was an important justification for the adoption of geomancy for many Confucians. Additionally, Shanling Yizhuang contains Zhu Xi’s view of geomancy and his insights on geomancy characteristics.37 They included, first, the recognition of the effect of qi as the peace and comfort felt by descendants whose ancestors’ remains are buried in a comfortable place. The second is the opinion that the li-qi debate, which gave rise to many conflicting views, must be excluded: Doing one’s best in burying a parent’s body, and being discrete, sincere, and respectful throughout the process, are important in terms of firmly establishing the grave as an everlasting resting place for the dead. Ensuring the form of the grave was kept intact and the spirit of the dead parent resting in peace would result in prosperity for succeeding generations and as such the memorial services for the buried ancestors would continue unabated. So, making every effort to see to the successful completion of the burial process was only natural. This may be the idea of the conjurer, but it is not without logic.38 In this way, the disposition of accepting geomancy is evident in the notions that the hearts of the sons who extol their dead parents are the everlasting hearts of humaneness and that the sons are also at peace when their parents bodies lay in peace and comfort. Additionally, the idea of admonishing those who search for fortuitous sites with the intention of gaining benefits by distorting the eternal way was a common criterion among neo-Confucians, including Zhu Xi. The theory of tongqi ganying 同氣感應 (tonggi kamŭng in Korean), which had been suggested simultaneously by these Confucians, and the idea of appreciating the beauty of the landscape gave rise to many types of discussions on geomancy for later Confucians. The scholar-officials also accepted the criterion of the neo-Confucian “heart of a filial son” and referred to it in the following way for adopting geomancy: If geomancy theories were derived out of benevolence and filial piety in the first place, then they cannot be blamed. The reason that the fortune of the guardian deities, the gods of soil and grain 社稷, is continuously mentioned to be important, is because it is important to keep the corpses and spirits [of the dead] away from puddles and gravelly fields, and also because it is the sentiment of benevolence and filial piety that would lead to good fortune of spiritual longevity 靈長.39



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So, wise men used to not relocate ancestral graves elsewhere, unless the grave mound was collapsed or the grave itself was flooded with water. Those were their efforts of keeping their parents in peace.40 the rhetoric of human-essence 人情, with-essence 有情 and no-essence 無情 as discussed above, the core of the criteria for geomancy adoption by early Confucians that were also used by Chosŏn scholar-officials was not for the purpose of finding fortuitous sites, but was instead related to appreciating the beauty of landscapes. Therefore these scholar-officials had a common tradition related to the landscape, which was known as the rhetoric of With-Essence and No-Essence: “Divining for a burial site is determining whether a site is beautiful or not. It is not determining whether a site is auspicious or calamitous, as argued by the yinyang theorists.”41 Then what was the standard for determining the beauty of a landscape? According to Cheng Yichuan 程伊川, a fortuitous site is one where the soul is at peace and as a result its descendants are flourishing. The bright colors of the soil and the lush vegetation are verification of its propitiousness. Zhu Xi has added to an idea of landscape beauty and insisted that a beautiful site is one surrounded by mountains and water that gives rise to a certain kind of weather. The breeze is fair and the soil fertile and the landscape is unique. This was the tenet of geomancy that Cheng Yichuan maintained. Zhu Xi in the same context argued that the descendant cannot help but choose the most fortuitous site. Zhu Xi further added and moved on from the dimension of landscape aesthetics to discuss geomantic topography, and stated that it is a place where “the landscape is harmonious, the terrain is intertwined into successive layers, and is blended together with seamless terrain.” In this regard, Chŏng Yagyong referred to understanding the benevolence and evilness of a site and choosing the right one for burial as “Human-essence.”42 This term became jargon that referred to the process of determining a grave site among Chosŏn scholar-officials, which meant choosing a fortuitous site: Yi Hangbok said, “During my twenties, I was extremely enchanted with geomantic 山家 theories, collected lot of papers on the subject and read them all. But they turned out to be lacking sufficient grounds. There may be some geographical features with essence 有情 or features without essence 無情, yet all the details of the Eight Trigrams for divination 八卦, the binary designations 干支, and the suggestion of ‘compliance or violations 順逆,’ were products of later periods, and thus lacked integrity.43 “Regarding the doctrines of geomancy, discussing it in general it amounts to little more than the relative concentration of energy. The concentration of energy refers to a state in which the mountain ranges take

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shape and the ch’ŏngnyong baekho 靑龍 白虎 cheongryong baekho formation protects the vital points, while the scattering of energy refers to a condition in which the mountain ranges face various directions and ch’ŏngnyong baekho 靑龍 白虎 formation lacks essence 情.”44 As above, the evaluation of a site based on human essence was no different from differentiating between With-Essence and No-Essence. The expressions WithEssence and No-Essence appear frequently in the geomancy canon, the Hanlongjing 撼龍經 (Classic of Rousing Dragons). In this canon, the psychological sense of safety was considered to be an important factor in the evaluation of a terrain. The situational aspect of this doctrine helped to incorporate landscape into human history and gave rise to many metaphors.45 In this case, a good site is referred to as being “With-Essence” and landscape that is not good is said to be of “No-Essence.”46 However, one should note that the good and bad in a landscape is the visible beauty, which does not have the meaning in relation to fortune or misfortune. The desire to gain fortune and avoid misfortune was suppressed and the justification for seeing fortuitous sites was expressed with a more refined style through the terms “With-Essence” and “No-Essence.” 4. Reasons for the Adoption of Geomancy: Its Economic Aspects and Burial Site Litigations 山訟 Geomancy was utilized according to practical needs that were separate from the discourse of rationalization. Particularly with regard to state affairs in determining the location of the capital, castle, or the royal tomb, geomancy played an absolute role. The geomancy that was adopted at the level of the state, based on Confucian orthodoxy, was limited to uses related only to administrative matters. In comparison to the geomancy related more to building sites 陽宅 that was applied by the state, the general people adopted a geomancy that was focused on selecting burial sites 陰宅. Furthermore, toward the latter half of the Chosŏn period, the situation was that many litigations were being brought forth ultimately in an attempt to secure a fortuitous site, based on the idea of seeing fortune 祈福. These lawsuits for the purpose of obtaining a burial mountain 墳山 were justified by being based not only on seeing fortune but also on filial piety, the core of the Confucian ideology of the family 門閥. As geomancy became internalized among the people as a form of belief, various myths relating to auspicious sites and geomancy heroes also became popular. Such cultural conditions reveal to us that geomancy in the latter Chosŏn period was not only limited to state functions but came to be accepted into the realm of personal belief. Litigation for burial sites involved legal action to secure the right of use and the right to ownership of a burial site. Litigations for burial sites started to appear over successive periods in various records including the Chosŏn Wangjo Sillok, Sŭngjŏng’won Ilgi 承政院 日記 (Journal of the Royal Secretariat), and so on from



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the mid-seventeenth century onward. Descriptive recordings of these litigations were kept in full from the time of King Hyŏnjong. From then up to the time of King Yŏngjo, there were a total of 241 cases recorded in the Ilsŏngnok 日省錄 (Diary of Self-Examination) alone. Among them, 122 cases took place during the time of King Sukchong and 108 cases during the time of King Yŏngjo. However, the records of the cases that took place during the time of King Sukchong were descriptions of the litigation itself, whereas the cases that took place during the time of King Yŏngjo were not descriptive records of litigation but general statements about geomancy. In an interesting study by Han Sanggwon, who analyzed the Ilsŏngnok from the time of King Chŏngjo, it was found that of the 4,500 petitions to the king and among all the cases related to litigation for burial sites, 12 percent (346) were written petitions, and 13.4 percent (119) were done at 擊 錚a public bell.47 In a similar study by Yi, T’aejin, it was found that in a twentyfour-year period, King Chŏngjo made seventy-seven royal visits on average each year, during which 4,427 petitions were received. Among them 13.3 percent were regarding litigations on burial sites and the majority of them were appeals to have their ancestor’s tomb removed from its original location.48 Therefore, we can surmise that starting from King Sukchong’s time there were innumerable litigations relating to burial sites that continued through King Yŏngjo’s rule, and reached a peak during King Chŏngjo’s reign. Research has been done from a social historical perspective on the sudden increase in the number of burial site litigations in the latter part of the Chosŏn period. According to Kim Kyŏngsuk, the main purpose behind the litigations was the attempt to secure a burial mountain.49 Kim Sŏngyŏng and Han Sanggwon have come to the conclusion that the main reason was to obtain the sole right to the use of a mountain and forest. Furthermore, the parties of the litigation and the state presiding over the litigation have explicitly expressed that the reason was influenced by geomancy. In effect, securing a burial mountain, gaining the right to the use of the mountain and forest, and obtaining a fortuitous geomancy site are the three reasons that directly influenced the sudden rise in the number of litigations. Three Incentives for Burial Site Litigations The litigations took place among scholar-officials, and the main reason pointed out was geomancy. To make matters worse, government officials were at the forefront of such vice to the extent that an edict was passed prohibiting geomancy divinations within the provinces or the cities.50 According to reports from the provinces to the capital by government inspectors, the number of burial site litigations within the provinces was perceived to be the most severe, to the extent that it had been labeled as the most difficult problem to resolve. The government policy on land use that was an attempt to separate the dead from the living stipulated that “funerals cannot be performed within the distance of 100 steps from a house” and measures were taken to strengthen its enforcement. Despite these efforts, the desire of the

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people to pray to the spirits to find a fortuitous site to bury their dead did not lead to the acceptance of the “within 100 steps” boundary. In other words their desire to find a fortuitous site was more important than obeying government policy, and this made the practice difficult to suppress. According to the revised history of laws and regulations,51 there was even an effort at the state level to enact laws that would solve the litigation issues. Finally, the scholar-official moral criteria relating to burial sites became systemized into law, and there were direct efforts to protect people’s right to use burial sites. In one sense, as a result of accepting geomancy jargon that was open to individual interpretation and using it in setting rules for judgments in burial site lawsuits, the state’s judgment on these litigations became inconsistent and unclear. As a result of problems caused by such legal clauses, ancestral graves came to be used as a pretext for scholar-officials to expand their possession of burial sites and hence secure their property. 5. Conclusion There is the perspective that because geomancy during the Chosŏn period possessed scientific rational reasoning, it was used for state purposes such as constructing royal tombs or kukto sŏnjŏm 國都 選占. The other perspective is that Confucians who pursued an ideal in their lives based on free will must obviously reject geomancy, most specifically because fatalistic determinism was an underlying notion of geomancy. Such contrasting perspectives coexisted and have clearly been expressed in the proposition of “unbelievable but indisposable.” The extension of geomancy beyond the bounds of Confucian morality and fundamental principles could not be permitted. That is why in the public arena geomancy was adopted as an exigent means, evidence of its limited acceptability. Furthermore, the Confucian intellectuals of the Chosŏn period developed a new discourse around the adoption of geomancy based on neo-Confucian values. Before all else, they strongly criticized the idea that human fortune and misfortune were subordinated mechanically to spatial conditions. They argued that fortune and misfortune in human affairs were brought about independently by humans and their actions, and were not determined by the principles of earth 地理 or the movement of earth’s energies. If someone wanted fortune they had to accumulate merit. A kind and filial heart that wanted to ensure the burial of parents or ancestors at a good burial site and lay the dead in peace can obviously be recognized to be working within the bounds of Confucian morality. However this was related to the appreciation of the beauty of landscapes, and not a justification for praying to the spirits for personal gain. In this way, it was an effort at the level of discourse to incorporate the ancient neo-Confucian ideals of sincerity and self-reflection, which were centered on human subjectivity. On the level of discourse on geomancy, the details with regard to its practical application could not be fully set. Toward the latter part of the Chosŏn period,



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the desire to ensure fortuitous sites based on seeking fortune became the focus of geomancy. As a result, burial site litigations that caused social problems took place and myths about geomancy burial sites became popular and widespread. Toward the latter half of the Chosŏn period, geomancy progressed from being limited to only state functions to being established as a form of personal belief. Rather than being based on pure and ancient ideals, geomancy based on the desire to improve one’s fortunes or seek fortune constituted the mainstream. To possess the classical Confucian ideal and the fortune-seeking characteristics simultaneously was the experiential reality of Chosŏn geomancy. In this chapter we have examined how Confucian literati treated the idea and practice of geomancy. In fact many of these Confucian scholars during the later part of the Chosŏn dynasty belonged to Sirhak or the Practical Learning School. The next chapter deals with a famous work by a well-known scholar of the Sirhak School, Yi Chung-hwan’s T’aengniji, and how the book reflects the changing perception of geomancy during the late Chosŏn dynasty. Notes  1. Sejong Sillok (Annals of King Sejong), fasc. 61, 15th year, July, Xinyu day.  2. Sejong Sillok, fasc. 65, 16th year, September, Bingzi day.  3. T’aejo Sillok (Annals of King T’aejo), fasc. 6, 3rd year, August, Jimao day: “大抵 卜地遷都, 至爲重事, 非一二人所見能定也, 必應天順人, 而後可爲. 是故 『書』 曰: ‘龜從, 筮從, 卿士從, 庶民從’. 不如是則不可決也. 今之遷不遷, 自有時數, 臣安敢輕議! 殿下出自天心, 又視人 心所向, 卽順天也.”   4. The translation of the Xiaojing (Classic of Piety) is from James Legge, trans., The Chinese Classics: With a Translation, Critical and Exegetical Notes, Prolegomena, and Copious Indexes, 3rd ed., 5 vols. (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 1960).   5. Not to be confused with Sima Guang from the Han dynasty.  6. Sejong Sillok, fasc. 106, 26th year, December, Bingchen day.   7. This is a summary of the main points of Chŏng Yagyong’s lengthy discussion in his book, Chŏng Yagyong, Yŏyudang Chŏnsŏ (The Complete Works of Yŏyudang), 20 vols. (Seoul: Arŭm Ch’ulp’ansa, 1995), 306-327.   8. Lee Hwa, “Chosŏn Sidae Myoji P’ungsu Sinang-ŭi Yon’gu” (A Study of Gravesite Geomantic Beliefs during the Chosŏn Dynasty) (MA thesis, Sŏul Taehakkyo (Seoul National University), 1999), 45.   9. The following are descriptions found in the writings of Confucians of how geomancy was applied during the Chosŏn period: Yi Kok, Kajŏngjip (The Collection of Works by Kajŏng), fasc. 6, “Yŏngju Hoegojŏnggi” (A Record on Hoego Pavilion in Yŏngju); Yu Hŭich’un, Miamjip (The Collection of Works by Miam), Han’guk Munjip Ch’onggan (Complete Series of Literary Anthologies of Korea), vol. 34 (Seoul: Han’guk Kojŏn Pŏnyŏgwon, 1990); Chang Hyŏn’gwang, Kugyŏk Yŏhŏnjip 1 (Modern Korean Translation of the Collection of Works by Yŏhŏn 1), Yŏhŏn Sŏnsaeng Sokchip (The Continuation of the Collection of Works by Yŏhŏn), fasc. 4, “Chapchŏ” (Miscellaneous Writings), trans. Sŏng Paekhyo (Seoul: Minjok Munhwa Ch’ujinhoe, 1996); Yi, Kugyŏk T’aektangjip, fasc. 11, “Kyesanji” (Local Gazetteer of Kyesan), “San’gi” (A Record on Mountains); and Kim Yuk, Kugyŏk Chamgok Yugo (Modern

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Korean Translation of the Posthumous Manuscripts of Chamgok), “Chŏnggyŏng Puin Sinssi Myogarŭmgi” (A Record on the Engraving of the Epitaph on Lady Chŏnggyŏng’s (Née Sin) Tombstone), 4 vols. (Seoul: Minjok Munhwa Ch’ujinhoe, 1998–2004). 10. Chŏng T’ak, Yakp’ojip (The Collection of Works by Yakp’o), Sokchip (Supplementary Collection), fasc. 4, “Non-chunggungjŏn Hyŏn’gung Kaebok-kye” (Report on Discussions on the Relocation of the Queen’s Gravesite), Han’guk Munjip Ch’onggan (Complete Series of Literary Anthologies of Korea), vol. 39 (Seoul: Han’guk Kojŏn Pŏnyŏgwon, 1988): “風水之 說, 不可謂全無所據. 祖宗朝至設觀象監, 幷置三學, 其意有在, 其來且古, 今不可偏廢. 然而此終 是術家者數, 浩渺難明, 不可偏信 . . . 國家有事, 必先遵奉祖宗定制, 參用術家之說, 而切勿使之 有所專焉. 先王之世, 術家之用, 不過如是, 而雖或不無隨時通變之時, 而能合時宜, 不違義理, 終 不失先王當初定制本宜.” 11. Yi Hyŏngsang, Kugyŏk Pyŏng’wajip (Modern Korean Translation of the Collection of Works by Pyŏng’wa), 3 vols., Kugyŏk Ch’ongsŏ (Modern Korean Translation Ser.), vols. 90-3–90-5 (Sŏngnam: Han’guk Chŏngsin Munhwa Yŏn’guwon, 1990), fasc. 10, “Sŏ” (Foreword), “T’aek’chi” (The Selection of Sites). 12. Yi Ŏnjŏk describes the different areas of study to which specialists were assigned at the national level. Yi Ŏnjŏk, Hoe’jaejip (The Collection of Works by Hoe’jae), Han’guk Munjip Ch’onggan (Complete Series of Literary Anthologies of Korea), vol. 24 (Seoul: Han’guk Kojŏn Pŏnyŏgwon, 1989), fasc. 2. 13. Yu Sŏngnyong, Sinjongnok (A Record of Sincere Mourning and Funerary Rites). Zhu Xi’s seven principles are as follow: (1) Does the mountain formation reach the burial site? (主勢之强弱) (2) Is the flow of qi in an even form? (穴道之偏正) (3) Is the terrain in such a form that qi will congregate? (風氣之聚散) (4) Are the water and soil deep and shallow? (水土之淺深) (5) Are the formations and their energy sound and harmonious? (力量 之全否) (6) The doctrine of li-qi 理氣論 does not apply here. (7) If the remains of ancestors are resting well then the descendents are also well. 14. Ch’ae Su, Najaejip (The Collection of Works by Najae), fasc. 1 (Seoul: Asea Munhwasa, 1995): “問鬼神·巫覡·卜筮·談命·地理·風水. 首擧鬼神之道, 以及風水之說, 而乃曰 儒者所 當 講也. 窃謂鬼神者, 陰陽之所以行也, 卜筮者, 吉凶之所以辨也, 地理者, 聖人之所以視民利, 爲 之尊居者也. 奈何聖人示之以正, 而後世繼之以邪, 聖人示之以常, 而後世繼之以范昧之說? 於是 乎, 有巫覡之風, 於是乎, 有談命之說, 於是乎, 有風水之言乎. 此則皆關人事之利害, 而初不計山 川之向背也 . . . 而今之言地理者, 專以山川向背爲言, 至有龍頭龍耳之說, 謂人之吉凶禍福, 皆係 於地利 之如何耳. 所謂地理者, 觀其人事之利害耳, 今之所謂風水者, 觀其山川之向背耳, 惟其幽 怪之求, 而不求於昭明正大之理.” 15. Chengzi’s “Five Points to Avoid” include five places that should be avoided. They are (1) a place where there will be a road in the future; (2) where a castle will be built; (3) where a place of worship or practice or a pond might come to exist; (4) where land can be lost to a powerful family; and (5) where it is close to rice paddies and fields (惟五患者不得 不愼, 須使異日不爲道路, 不爲城郭, 不爲溝池, 不爲貴勢所奪, 不爲耕犁所及). 16. Kim Sisŭp, Kugyŏk Maewoltang Chŏnjip (Modern Korean Translation of the Complete Works of Maewoltang), trans. and ed. the Kang’won Hyangt’o Munhwa Yŏn’guhoe (Kang’won Local Culture Research Society) (Ch’unchŏn: Kang’won-do, 2000), fasc. 17, “Sangjang” (Funerals and Burials), ch. 10. 17. For detailed discussions, see Yi Kyugyŏng, Kugyŏk Oju Yŏnmun Changjŏn San’go (Modern Korean Translation of Random Expatiations of Oju), Minjok Munhwa Ch’ujinhoe Kojŏn Kugyŏk Ch’ongsŏ (Korean Classics Research Institute Korean Classics Translation



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Ser.), vols. 141, 152–156 (Seoul: Minjok Munhwa Ch’ujinhoe, 1981–1982 and 1985), fasc. 32, “Kamyŏsŏ Pyŏnjŭngsŏl” (Investigation of Geomancy Books). 18. Jiutangshu (The Old Book of Tang), fasc. 79, “Liezhuan” (Biographies), ch. 29, “Lücaizhuan” (The Biography of Lü Cai). 19. Chŏng, Yŏyudang Chŏnsŏ, fasc. 3, “P’ungsu Chibŭi,” 316, “Sama Kwang Changsŏl” (Sima Guang’s Theory of Burial Rites): “古者, 雖卜宅卜日, 蓋先謀人事之便, 然後質諸蓍 龜庶.” 20. Many illustrious Confucian scholar-officials were well-versed in traditions other than Confucianism. This is evident from their writings: Chŏng, Yakp’ojip, fasc. 4; Hwang Chŏng’uk, Chich’ŏnjip (The Collection of Works by Chich’ŏn), Appendix, Part I, “Haengjang” (Brief Biography), Han’guk Munjip Ch’onggan (Complete Series of Literary Anthologies of Korea), vol. 41 (Seoul: Han’guk Kojŏn Pŏnyŏgwon, 1992); Song Ikp’il, Kubongjip (The Collection of Works by Kubong), Han’guk Munjip Ch’onggan (Complete Series of Literary Anthologies of Korea), vol. 42 (Seoul: Han’guk Kojŏn Pŏnyŏgwon, 1990); Ha Ryun, Hojŏngjip (The Collection of Works by Hojŏng), fasc. 4, Appendix (Seoul: Ha Sok, 1940); Kwon Pal, Ch’ung’amjip (The Collection of Works by Chung’am), Part I, “Haengjang”; and Han Ch’ung, Songjaejip (The Collection of Works by Songjae), fasc. 3, “Ŏryu Sŭbyu Sasil Kŭbyu,” fasc. 7, “Yŏnbo” (Chronology) and fasc. 4, “Haengjang” (Seoul: Han Sŏngni, 1889). 21. An Chŏngbok warns that despite the need to study literature from other traditions, it can cause one to lose focus if one’s scholarship is not fully developed in the Confucian tradition. An Chŏngbok, Kugyŏk Sunamjip (Modern Korean Translation of the Collection of Works by Sunam), fasc. 26, “Haengjang,” Minjok Munhwa Ch’ujinhoe Kojŏn Kugyŏk Ch’ongsŏ (Korean Classics Research Institute Korean Classics Translation Ser.), vols. 291–295 (Seoul: Minjok Munhwa Ch’ujinhoe, 1996–1997). Son So argues that the reeducation of those who are from a different tradition will lead to the purification of their abilities. Son So, Kugyŏk Yangmin’gongjip (Modern Korean Translation of the Collection of Works by Lord Yangmin), trans. Son Chin-gyu and Son Pyŏngch’ŏl (Taejŏn: Kangdong Sŏwon, 1982). 22. See, for example, the argument presented by Sŏ Kŏjŏng. He argues that it does not make sense that the Qing be taught traditions that are considered to be heresies, especially when there are so many different traditions. Sŏ Kŏjŏng et al., Kugyŏk Tongmunsŏn (Modern Korean Translation of A Selection of Korean Literature), 12 vols., Minjok Munhwa Ch’ujinhoe Kojŏn Kugyŏk Ch’ongsŏ (Korean Classics Research Institute Korean Classics Translation Ser.), vols. 25–36 (Seoul: Sol, 1998), “Ch’ŏngjŏng Ch’ŏnmyŏngdangsŏ: Kwon Che” (Request to Stop Relocation to Auspicious Sites: Kwon Che). 23. Chang, Kugyŏk Yŏhŏnjip 1, Yŏhŏn Sŏnsaeng Sokchip, fasc. 4, “Chapchŏ.” 24. Chang, Kugyŏk Yŏhŏnjip 1, Yŏhŏn Sŏnsaeng Sokchip, fasc. 9, Appendix, “Paemunnok: Munin Sin Yŏlto” (A Record of Greeting at the Door: Sin Yŏlto the Literatus). 25. Chang, Kugyŏk Yŏhŏnjip 1, Yŏhŏn Sŏnsaeng Sokchip, fasc. 7, “Chapchŏ.” 26. Yi Yuwon, Kugyŏk Imha P’ilgi (Modern Korean Translation of Notes Taken under the Forest), 9 vols. (Seoul: Minjok Munhwa Ch’ujinhoe, 1999–2003), fasc. 16, “P’ungsu” (Geomancy). 27. Sejong Sillok, fasc. 29, 7th year, July, Renshen day. 28. Sejong Sillok, fasc. 31, Dinghai day. 29. Wi Paekkyu, Chonjae Chŏnsŏ (The Complete Works of Chonjae), 2 vols. (Seoul: Kyŏng’in Munhwasa, 1974), fasc. 7, “Kamyŏsŏl” (Discussion on Geomancy).

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30. As a reference, the records of the burial sites show that despite following the advice of a geomancer in selecting a site, following geomancy was denied and only matters of human conduct were referred to. Yi, Kugyŏk T’aektangjip. 31. Ch’ae Su, Najaejip. 32. See, for example, the Chonjae Chŏnsŏ, where Wi explains that fortune and misfortune result from a person’s state of mind and energy. Wi, Chonjae Chŏnsŏ. 33. Song In, Iam Yugo (The Posthumous Manuscripts of Iam), “Kongbugun Myoŭmgi” (A Record on the Engraving of the Epitaph on the Lord’s Tombstone), Han’guk Munjip Ch’onggan (Complete Series of Literary Anthologies of Korea), vol. 36 (Seoul: Han’guk Kojŏn Pŏnyŏgwon, 1990): “風水之說, 吾所未達. 然幽明無異理. 大抵人之吉凶禍福, 皆是自致. 豈可曰, 一由於地氣乎? 然則上天之命, 反制於一杯之土矣.” 34. Yi Ch’ŏru, Yŏkchu Wolchujip (The Collection of Works by Wolchu Translated and Annotated), “Wonp’ungsu” (Original Geomancy), trans. and annot. Ryu Chaeyŏng (Koch’anggun: Won’gwangsa, 2000): “明堂之理, 設或有之, 明堂可遇, 而不可求也.” 35. Chŏng Pŏmjo, Haejwajip (The Collection of Works by Haejwa), “Pyŏn’gamyŏsŏl” (Investigation of Geomancy), 2 vols., Han’guk Munjip Ch’onggan (Complete Series of Literary Anthologies of Korea), vols. 239–240 (Seoul: Han’guk Kojŏn Pŏnyŏgwon, 1999): “夫人 生稟於天. 故凡年壽短長·窮達貧富·康寧疾弱, 皆天之所定, 而不可移也 . . . 故爲善可以獲福, 爲 惡可以獲禍, 盖天道福善禍淫, 故報以類應, 其理當然也. 苟或爲善, 出於徼福, 則福未必獲, 以其 有私也.” 36. Yi, Kugyŏk Oju Yŏnmun Changjŏn San’go, fasc. 32, “Chuja P’ungsu Pyŏnjŭngsŏl” (Zhu Xi’s Investigation of Geomancy); and Xu Qianxue, Duli Tongkao, fasc. 82, “Zangkaoyi” (Examination of Funerals 1): “此亦仁人孝子用心之極致, 亦不可不擇者也  .  .  .  欲掩藏其父祖 安處, 其子孫者, 亦豈可都不揀擇.” 37. Zhu Xi’s writings in relation to geomancy include the Zhuzi Daquan, ch. 50 and Shanling Yizhuang. The latter work has been included among the canons of geomancy. It was written and presented to the then emperor of Song (960–­1279) in 1194 to resolve a six-year debate on where to bury the previous emperor, which had resulted in the corpse being left without a proper burial site. 38. Zhu Xi, Shanling Yizhuang: “以子孫而藏其祖考之遺體, 則必致其謹重誠敬之心, 以 爲安固久遠之計, 使其形體全而 神靈 得安, 則其子孫盛而祭祀不絶, 此自然之理也. 此雖術家之 說, 然亦不爲無理.”

39. Wi, Chonjae Chŏnsŏ. 40. Chŏng, Haejwajip: “故非有丘崩水氵齒之患, 則君子不改葬焉. 所以安之也.” 41. Cheng Hao and Cheng Yi, Ercheng Quanshu (The Complete Works of the Two Chengs), fasc. 11, “Zangshuo” (Theory of Burial Rites): “卜其宅兆, 卜其地之美惡也. 非陰陽 家所謂禍福者也.” 42. Chŏng, Yŏyudang Chŏnsŏ, “Chuhoeam Changsŏl” (Zhu Xi’s Theory of Burial Rites): “案伊川所論, 皆人情也, 伊川所求者, 人情也. 孑然孤墳, 在於深山之中, 而旁無草木, 則孝子悽 愴, 其求草木茂盛之地, 亦人情也.” 43. Yi, Kugyŏk Imha P’ilgi, “Sannon” (Treatise on Mountains). 44. Sŏnjo Sillok (Annals of King Sŏnjo), fasc. 128, 33rd year, August, Kihae day 45. See Yang Junsong’s Hanlongjing (Classic of Rousing Dragons), where the geomantic state of a mountain is divided into nine different colors. In this book, mountains are referred to as stars and are richly described using various events in a person’s life as metaphors. Yang Junsong, Hanlongjing, annot. Li Wentian, in Jingjiao Dili Zhengzong, ed. Jiang Guozong. 46. See, for example, Yang, Hanlongjing.



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47. For further discussion on petitioning during the Chosŏn period, refer to Han Sanggwon’s PhD dissertation, where petitions related to burial site litigations are divided according to the types of petitions, social status of the petitioners, and time periods. Han Sanggwon, “Chosŏn Hugi Sahoe Munje-wa Sowon Chedo-ŭi Paltal: Chŏngjodae Sang’ŏn Kyŏkchaeng-ŭi Punsŏg-ul Chungsim-ŭro” (Societal Problems and the Development of the Petition System during the Latter Half of the Chosŏn Dynasty: With a Focus on an Analysis of Petitioning during King Chŏngjo’s Reign) (PhD diss., Sŏul Taehakkyo (Seoul National University), 1993). 48. Yi T’aejin, “Sip’al Segi Han’guksa-esŏŭi Min-ŭi Sahoejŏk Chŏngch’ijŏk Wisang” (The Social and Political Status of the Populace in Korean History during the 18th Century), Chindan Hakpo (Journal of the Chin-Tan Society) 88 (1999): 249–63. 49. Kim Kyŏngsuk, “Chosŏn Hugi Sansong-gwa Sahoe Kaltŭng Yon’gu” (A Study of Mountain Litigations and Social Conflict during the Latter Half of the Chosŏn Dynasty) (PhD diss., Sŏul Taehakkyo [Seoul National University], 2002). 50. Sinbo Sugyo Chimnok (A Collection of Royal Orders from the Late Chosŏn Dynasty), Yejŏn: Sansong (Rites: Mountain Litigations), fasc. 506. 51. Table 5.3 in Lee Hwa, Chŏsonjo P’ungsu Sinang Yŏn’gu: Yugyo-waŭi Sangho Kwan’gye-rŭl Chungsim-ŭro (A Study of Geomantic Beliefs during the Chosŏn Dynasty: With a Focus on Interrelations with Confucianism) (P’aju: Han’guk Haksul Chŏngbo, 2005), 207.

16 Geomantic Ideas in T’aengniji Manuscripts An Examination of Changing Perceptions of P’ungsu during the Late Chosŏn Dynasty 1

Inshil Choe Yoon

Scholar-gentries applied geomancy in selecting key settlement locations and finding grave sites in Korea. In Japan the application of the art was especially evident in choosing ancient capitals and some castle towns, or jokamachi 城下町. The Chosŏn 朝鮮 court consulted geomancy at various levels in selecting the capital city, Seoul, and locating its palaces at the beginning of the dynasty, as well as the sites of royal tombs. It was also widely practiced by individuals, mostly upper-class, who vigorously applied it in finding auspicious sites, especially for graves. Scholars of the Chosŏn dynasty were expected to possess some knowledge of geomancy as a liberal art subject. The scholars, who constituted the upper class during the Chosŏn dynasty, practiced Neo-Confucianism 朱子學; 新儒學 and emulated its founder, Zhu Xi 朱熹, who accepted the existence of fundamental principles in geomancy and wrote Shanling Yizhuang 山陵議狀 (Discourse on Imperial Tombs). Therefore, it was natural for Confucian scholars of the Chosŏn dynasty to accept geomancy as a desirable topic of knowledge. From the seventeenth century a few intellectuals were fascinated with new geographic information introduced through China, but most scholars adhered to geomancy as an important system of knowledge on the environment. Yi Ik 李 瀷, who is one of the most prominent scholars of Sirhak 實學 (Practical Learning School), revealed his deeply ingrained geomantic perspectives on the physical environment. Commenting on Muhak’s decision not to recommend Sindo 新都2 for the capital site of the newly emerged Chosŏn dynasty, Yi Ik adds that the real reason for this was because the mountains and waters of Chŏlla Province did not show an intention to support the site but rather to run away from it.3 He praised the physical condition of Seoul, which was finally chosen for the capital of the Chosŏn dynasty, by quoting the geomancers’ term, “Hill of Five Virtues.”4 He also noted that many Confucian scholars, such as Yi Hwang 李滉 and Cho Sik 曺植, were produced in Kyŏngsang Province thanks to its auspicious geomantic environment.5 353

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Under these circumstances, the T’aengniji 擇里志 (Book for Choosing Settlements) has a special place among the writings on the selection of places by prescribing not only geomantic perspectives, which was traditional, but also the thenrevolutionary views such as commercial activities. Written by Yi Chung-hwan 李 重煥 (1690–1756) in classical Chinese by 1751, it is the most prominent Korean classic on choosing settlements.6 In his preface, Yi Ik praised the T’aengniji as a work superbly written with a focus on discussing livable places for the scholar-gentry and with a quality he had never encountered before. The T’aengniji was regarded as a valuable source of information by the authors of voluminous encyclopedic classics in the late eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Parts of the T’aengniji were reproduced as a chapter in Chŭngbo Sallim Kyŏngje 增補山林經濟 (Revised and Enlarged Farm Management) and a substantial amount of content on geomancy is quoted in Imwŏn Kyŏngjeji 林園經濟志 (Writings on Rural Life Management) and Songnam Chapchi 松南雜誌 (Miscellaneous Records of Songnam). The T’aengniji was not only highly valued as source material fit for an encyclopaedia, but to the Confucian literati or the yangban 兩班 class during the late Chosŏn dynasty it was also a popular source book on liveable places.7 Therefore, its contents, either selected parts or as a whole, were hand-copied on traditional Korean paper, handmade from mulberry trees. The length of the T’aengniji manuscripts varies: unabridged manuscripts generally have over 40,000 Chinese characters. As this was considered to be relatively short, keen intellectuals who came across a T’aengniji manuscript borrowed it and copied it for their own keeping. 1. Why T’aengniji Manuscripts? There are two reasons why T’aengniji manuscripts are examined here to understand the changing perception of geomancy during the late Chosŏn dynasty. One is that the T’aengniji deals with geomancy at its heart. The prominence with which geomancy was treated in the T’aengniji was noticeable. When the T’aengniji was initially circulated among scholars without being linked to an author by name, the author was referred to as a person with a solid knowledge of geomancy.8 This reference assures that the geomantic content of the T’aengniji at the time could represent what was commonly accepted then. The fact that Sangt’aekchi (相宅志; Writings on Selecting Abodes), a treatise in the Imwŏn Kyŏngjeji, quotes geomantic contents of the T’aengniji more frequently than any other writings also reveals how much scholars in the Chosŏn dynasty appreciated T’aengniji in discussing various points in deciding on one’s dwelling.9 It should also be noted that there is no other indigenous discourse on geomancy of this caliber from Korea available during this period. Almost all writings on geomancy in Korea were either copies of or excerpts from Chinese books; genuine discussions criticizing the existing theories or based on authors’ own views are nearly nonexistent.10 Geomantic content, other than that from the T’aengniji, is also found in Sallim Kyŏngje 山林經濟 (Farm Management),



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Chŭngbo Sallim Kyŏngje, and Imwŏn Kyŏngjeji. However, it appears mainly in the form of quotations from existing texts. The high amount of geomantic content means the book is, at times, branded a book on geomancy. Murayama Chijun (1931) classified it as a Korean classic on geomancy with a distinctive flavor.11 But the T’aengniji, in my opinion, cannot be classified as a geomancy book or a classic text solely on the topic of geomancy. It deals not only with geomantic matters but with a much wider set of issues to do with Korean society.12 While the author praised places with propitious landscapes in geomantic terms, concluding that there is no livable place for the scholar-gentry on the Korean peninsula also testifies that geomancy was used as one of several conditions for finding suitable settlement sites. Several scholars who had discussed geomancy in the T’aengniji in detail did not accept the T’aengniji as a book on geomancy either.13 The other reason T’aengniji manuscripts are examined here is that they were handed down through hand-copying over one-and-a-half centuries, resulting in numerous different T’aengniji manuscripts of different titles.14 Hand-copying continued even after the unabridged printed editions P’aryŏkchi 八域誌 (1910) and T’aengniji (1912) were published.15 During the process of hand-copying changes would have taken place: some of the copiers consciously could have made omissions or additions and others would have made errors unconsciously. These possible changes, whether intentional or unintentional, would reflect what the copiers and readers of that time had in their mind, including in the area of geomancy. I have located 106 T’aengniji manuscripts, including those contained in later compilations such as Chŭngbo Sallim Kyŏngje, in libraries in Korea and overseas. The fact that T’aengniji manuscripts are constantly uploaded on Internet auction sites suggests that a good number of manuscripts other than those kept in libraries exist. These surviving editions shed light on the immense popularity and wide readership of the book during premodern Korea. Although there are many variations, T’aengniji manuscripts mostly appear as one volume, consisting of four parts; the most frequently occurring order is “The Four Classes of People,” “Discourse on the Eight Provinces,” “Discourse on the Selection of Livable Places,” and “Conclusion.”16 The “Discourse on the Eight Provinces” commences with an “Introduction” followed by a description and evaluation of eight provinces starting with P’yŏng’an Province and ending with Kyŏnggi Province. The part entitled “Discourse on the Selection of Livable Places” starts with an “Introduction” followed by sections for four locational criteria called “Geomancy,” “Livelihood,” “Social Characteristics,” and “Scenery.” A number of the manuscripts lack one or more parts. When this is the case, the content of the manuscript is often abridged. T’aengniji manuscripts also reveal significant differences in their contents. However, almost all of the studies by modern scholars on the content of the T’aengniji are based on the Kwangmunhoe edition (1912), whose content might be far removed

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from the original writing of Yi Chung-hwan. The most compelling reasons for this would be the lack of knowledge on the original writing and complexities in identifying copy dates of manuscripts. In terms of the quantity of geomancy contents in T’aengniji manuscripts, two distinctive features are found. The first is that almost all of the T’aengniji manuscripts include a full discussion of the geomancy section. Even in abridged manuscripts, if “Discourse on the Selection of Livable Places” is found, the whole content of the “Geomancy” section is included in it. Other criteria for choosing a desirable place to live, such as “Social Atmosphere,” “Livelihood,” and “Scenery” are often excluded or partially included. This demonstrates how importantly T’aengniji manuscript copiers treated the geomancy section, whether they copied complete manuscripts (full version) or abridged them. The geomancy section is certainly most important in terms of the treatment of geomancy in the T’aengniji because six geomantic conditions for livable sites are prescribed in it. They are the outlet of watercourse, the terrain, the shape of mountains, the color of the soil, the watercourses, and the court mountain and the court water flow. The second feature in terms of the quantity of geomancy contents is that almost all manuscripts include aspects of geomantic discussions outside the geomancy section. Overall, geomantic statements in “Discourse on the Eight Provinces” and in the “Scenery” section are used mostly in explaining, evaluating, and commenting on the physical environment. People’s responses to the geomantic features of certain localities are also included. In several cases these geomantic statements are made by referring to existing records or geomancers’ sayings, but they are often made without references.17 The occasional use of references occurs in dealing with other topics as well.18 If we could arrange all of the available T’aengniji manuscripts chronologically, we could easily understand how the differences, including changes in the perceptions of geomancy, were brought about and developed. Therefore, finding out the copy dates of T’aengniji manuscripts is of utmost importance. I have identified the copy dates of Tongguk P’aryŏkchi 東國八域志 (Yonsei University, Kosŏ [III] 4294) and T’aengniji (Dongguk University, 911.51 Yi 77 ㅌ 2), as 1792 and 1796, respectively19 and also conjectured that the content of the first half of T’aengniji in P’aerim 稗林 (Yonsei University, 951.508 [冊 28]) was copied in either 1751 or 1752, because Hong Chung-in’s (1677–1752) name was written at the end of the first part.20 The copy date of Tongguk Chirihae 東國地理解, the Korean alphabet version, was extrapolated by Huh Woong at the end of the eighteenth century.21 Sadaebu Kagŏch’ŏ 士大夫可居處 contained in Hong Chung-in’s (1677–1752) Aju Chamnok 鵝州雜錄 (Jangseogak K3-650) has a content very close to that of the first half of T’aengniji in P’aerim. It is also regarded to have been hand-copied in either 1751 or 1752 as it is found in Aju Chamnok, Hong Chungin’s collection of writings. Among these manuscripts, Sadaebu Kagŏch’ŏ in Aju Chamnok and the T’aengniji in P’aerim were hand-copied the earliest. However, apart from the geomancy sec-



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tion, the other sections are limited and shortened in length. Therefore, in this article, only the content of their geomancy sections will be used. As for other parts, the content of Tongguk Chirihae will be used. This is because Tongguk P’aryŏkchi contains a great many errors and the T’aengniji (Dongguk University) is an abridged manuscript, although they are also considered to have been copied at the end of the eighteenth century. In addition to these earlier hand-copied manuscripts, the following manuscripts hand-copied in the nineteenth century will also be included in the discussion. P’aryŏkchi 八域誌 (Korea University Ayŏn B10A3M) is considered to have been copied between 1800 and 1834, although 1866 is provided by the library as its copy date.22 P’aryŏkchi 八域誌 (Yonsei University Kosŏ III 3779) has the phrase “Sungjŏng Sa Pyŏng’in 崇禎四丙寅,” denoting the year 1866 as the copy year. Pakchongji 博綜誌 (Book of Diverse Collections; Jangseogak Kwi K2-4180) contains a remark explaining a reason for copying it, followed by “Kŭmbŏm 錦帆,” which is a pseudonym of Yun Ch’i-hŭi’s 尹致羲 (1797–1866). I did not investigate why the library entered “Ch’ŏlchong Yŏn’gan 哲宗年間” (reign of King Ch’ŏlchong [1850–1863]) as its copy dates but I would tentatively accept the period as possible years of hand-copying. Pakchongji (Kyujanggak Kyu 3742), which has the same background explanation followed by “Kŭmbŏm” on the manuscript, will also be included in the discussion.23 The T’aengniji manuscripts listed above cover the period from the early 1750s to the late nineteenth century. The number of these T’aengniji manuscripts is quite small compared to that of T’aengniji manuscripts found in libraries and elsewhere. However, an examination of these manuscripts together with earlier studies on the Kwangmunhoe edition of T’aengniji printed in 1912 is expected to indicate a meaningful trend. 2. Constant Features of Geomancy I have found that most of the geomantic content in these manuscripts appears to be similar. A few examples that are commonly found in the “Discourse on the Eight Provinces” and the geomancy section in the “Discourse on the Eight Provinces” will be shown here. Discussions on the Eight Provinces First, Yi Chung-hwan introduces the Korean peninsula in a heavy geomantic tone, in relation to the mountain ranges in China, as follows: A branch range of the Kunlun Mountains extends to the south of the great desert and forms Mt. Yuwulu in the east, ending abruptly to form the Liaodong Plain. Over at the other end of the plain, the mountain range rose again to form Mt. Paektu, which is called Mt. Buxian in the S­ hanhaijing

358

P’ungsu 山海經 (Book of Mountains and Seas). The mountain range ran 1,000 miles 里 [ri, ni, or li in Korean; li in Chinese] to the north, between the two rivers, and moving toward the south it made up Ningguta. A mountain range which extended behind became the head of all Korean mountain ranges.24

The terms “extending” and “forming” in relation to mountains or plains are geomantic expressions used for assessing the qualities of mountain ranges (dragons) in the Chinese geomantic classic for assessing the qualities of mountain ranges (dragons) called Hanlongjing 撼龍經 (Classic of Rousing Dragons), written by Yang Yi 楊益, otherwise known as Yang Junsong 楊筠松 during the Tang dynasty.25 Introducing areas in connection to central mountains or mountain ranges applies not only to the way Mt. Paektu is connected to the Kunlun Mountains but also to the way all of the mountain ranges on the Korean peninsula are connected to Mt. Paektu. This mountain range–centered description is striking throughout the T’aengniji, especially in the introductory part for each of the eight provinces. Each geographical region, in fact, is introduced in this mountain-range-centered manner as in the following description: A mountain range from the Ch’ŏllyŏng 鐵嶺 Mountain Pass in Anbyŏn in Hamgyŏng Province extends 500–600 miles to the south and reaches Yangju 楊州, where it forms small mountains. Turning to the east at an angle it suddenly rises to become the Manjang Peak of Mt. Tobong 道 峯山. As it extends again to the southeast it becomes disconnected for a while and then rises again to form Paegundae of Mt. Samgak 三角山. From here it extends again to the south and becomes Man’gyŏngdae. One mountain branch extends to the southwest and another to the south to form Mt. Paegak 白岳山.”26 Furthermore, the geomantic statements are made not only on a grand scale but also on a smaller scale, usually in reference to the local physical environment. Individual mountains and islands are also explained and interpreted in geomantic terms, as in the following examples: Geomancers said “as [Mt. Paegak] is a landform of a wood-type mountain projected high into the sky, it is worthy to be the main mountain.”27 Mt. Yongsu 龍岫山 and Mt. Chinbong 進鳳山 to the south are also branches from Mt. Song’ak and serve as table mountains to the castle. Geomancers said that Mt. Chinbong has the landform of “the make-up table of a beautiful woman.” This is why kings of the Koryŏ dynasty married Chinese princesses.28 The way cities are laid out is also described and interpreted in terms of geomancy:



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[Kyŏngju] is called “Tonggyŏng” (Eastern Capital) nowadays and is governed by a mayor. The main administrative center lies in the middle of the left branch of Mt. T’aebaek and geomancers name it hoeryonggojo (the landform of a dragon looking back on his ancestor).29 Scenery is not only described, explained, and interpreted based on geomancy, but also evaluated in T’aengniji manuscripts: Kyŏngsang Province is the best province in terms of its geomancy. [It lies to the south of Kang’won Province and it adjoins Ch’ungch’ŏng and Chŏlla Provinces to the west. To the north there is Mt. T’aebaek, which is projected high in the sky and geomancers classify it as a water-type star mountain.]30 Starting the entry on Kyŏngsang Province with the above statement demonstrates the author’s strong commitment to the geomantic way of thinking. This attitude is also found in the narration on a riverside village: To the west of the township [of Yŏju] lies Paegaech’on. From the southeast a curvy long river moves north-east, passing in front of the village. This is the very best riverside settlement. The outlet of the water is concealed, and it is not visible where the river flows out.31 Evaluating sites in terms of geomancy also applies to burial sites, including that of King Sejong: From Chuksan another branch range extends to the north and, having passed Ŭmjuk, it ends in Yŏju. Yŏng Tomb [in Yŏju] is where the Great King of Changhŏn32 is buried. When the earth was dug up [for constructing the tomb] an old engraved stone was found on which the phrase “this is surely the place where a sage of Korea will be buried” was written. Geomancers call it hoeryongjajwa (the landform of a dragon turning its direction to the south) and sinsu ipchin (water from the northwest flowing out to due east). The tomb site is regarded as the best among those of Korean kings.33 More burial sites are included in the discussion, as shown in the following quotations: There remain traces of the grid pattern land division system of Kija’s 箕 子 [Jizi in Chinese] state, and Kiji’s tomb. Sung’in Shrine was erected near the tomb and the Sŏnu family was designated as caretaker of the sacrificial ceremonies from generation to generation. This is similar to the Kong family of Qufu looking after the shrine of Confucius.34

360

P’ungsu

The south of Mt. Hwajang is made up of beautiful foothills and meandering streams. The place is compared with Mt. Beimang in Luoyang in China as many graves of high-ranking officials of the Koryŏ and Chosŏn dynasties can be found there.35 Also mentioned are the tombs of seven Koryŏ kings on Mt. Mansu in “Kyŏnggi Province.” The inclusion of descriptions and evaluations of burial sites in T’aengniji manuscripts, where appropriate, suggests that the author was not excluding grave geomancy in his discussion. The human responses to the benefit received from auspicious sites are also found in the manuscripts: Since the olden days many literary scholars who demonstrated excellence were from here [Sŏnsan善山]. During the Toyotomi Hideyoshi invasion [1592] the Ming troops passing through the area had among their commanding officers a geomancer who was jealous of the many talented people that had been produced in Korea. He had his soldiers disconnect the range behind the town by scorching the area with fiery charcoal and by driving big metal nails into the ground to suppress the vital energy of the land. Since then, the area has exhausted itself as a source of human talent.36 The statements such as the ones listed above are commonly found in the “Discourse on the Eight Provinces” of the unabridged T’aengniji manuscripts with the known copy date. These geomantic contents are in accord with traditional geomancy.37 Discourse on the Selection of Livable Places In “Discourse on the Selection of Livable Places,” Yi Chung-hwan pronounces geomancy, livelihood, social characteristics, and scenery as the four requirements to be consulted for choosing settlements. In all of the selected manuscripts, the geomancy section appears first and prescribes six conditions, in this order: the outlet of the watercourse, the terrain, the shape of mountains, the color of the soil, the watercourses, and the court mountain and court water flow. In all of the manuscripts with “Discourse on the Selection of Livable Places,” this section exists at full length, unlike the livelihood, social characteristics, and scenery sections. This demonstrates how readers and copiers of the T’aengniji wanted to make sure to contain the whole content of the geomancy section. I find that the most distinctive and common features in the geomancy section are (1) the way the six geomantic conditions are placed with the outlet of watercourses at the beginning, and (2) the greater importance that water was dealt in a number of conditions.38



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Although the Zangshu 葬書 (Book of Burial) declares that acquiring water is more important than blocking wind with mountains, most other literatures on geomancy stress the importance of mountains by dealing with them first. For example, in the Qingwujing 靑烏經 (Classic of the Azure Crow), considered to be one of the oldest writings on geomancy, conditions for an auspicious site are described with clarity: The [auspicious] place is not to be removed away from the mountain range of its origin but is to be protected to the front and back. There is a main mountain and surrounding mountains and the water flows [slowly] but does not run away [in a hurry]. The place is closed tight from outside but should be broad within. The terrain is flat and vast: it is impossible to measure how far it stretches. This order of description depicting excellently the landform of auspicious sites and its surroundings is often the order that was often followed in subsequent geomantic writings. It illuminates just how odd it was for T’aengniji to place the six geomantic conditions, starting from the outlet of the watercourse, the terrain, the shape of mountains, the color of the soil, the watercourses, and the court mountain and court water flow. The outlet of the watercourse, which is prescribed to be tight and comes first in the T’aengniji, corresponds to the place being “closed tight from outside” in the Qingwujing. The position of this phrase in the Qingwujing, which is much removed from the start of the text, contrasts with that in the T’aengniji. The open terrain, which comes second in the T’aengniji, corresponds to the terrain being broad within and should be flat and immeasurably vast in the Qingwujing. The positions of terrain in the T’aengniji and the Qingwujing are also contrasting. In the geomancy section of T’aengniji water is treated in as many as four conditions: the outlet of watercourses, water flows, the color of the soil, and court mountain and court water. Water is equivalent to material wealth in geomantic literature. In the Korean natural environment, as in other parts of the world, a tight water outlet and good water flow in vast terrain ensures good arable land, which will produce material well-being. This frequent treatment of water could have something to do with Yi Chung-hwan’s personal experience of financial difficulties. Having passed the Augmented Government Service Examination in 1713, he progressed well as a government official and was promoted to senior secretary of the Ministry of Military Affairs.39 Soon after he was appointed to this position, however, he was arrested, in 1723, and had to endure hardship during interrogations and consequent exiles.40 He remained unemployed when he wrote the T’aengniji. His dignity was restored in 1753, which was a couple of years after he completed writing the T’aengniji.41

362

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3. Changes in Geomantic Discourses over Time Examinations of the above-selected T’aengniji manuscripts reveal variations in “terrain,” “color of the soil,” and “watercourses” of the geomancy section.42 I will start with an examination of the watercourses as the differences are most apparent here. Simplification in Prescribing Watercourses The content on watercourses in Sadaebu Kagŏch’ŏ in Aju Chamnok, the T’aengniji in P’aerim, and Tongguk P’aryŏkchi can be divided into three parts, (A), (B) and (C), as follow: (A) In general, if a place has no water, naturally it is not suitable for habitation.43 (B) Mountains can accomplish nature’s wonders only when they are accompanied by watercourses. However the incoming and outgoing directions of flow must accord with [geomantic] principles; only then can the place harbor the auspiciousness of engenderment and nurture.44 (C) An established geomantic theory prescribes that the house site that faces to the left-hand side should have a watercourse that flows to the direction of chŏng’ohaeng 正五行 (correct Five Elements) or ssangsan ohaeng 雙山五行 (parallel mountains Five Elements) and the house site that faces to the right-hand side should have a watercourse that flows to the direction of chinohaeng 眞五行 (true Five Elements).45 The direction of the house, together with the incoming water, should also have to accord with the principle of chŏng’ŭm chŏng’yang 淨陰淨陽 (clean yin and clean yang)46 to become very auspicious.47 In the watercourses section of P’aryŏkchi (Korea), Pakchongji (Jangseogak Kwi K2-4180), and Pakchongji (Kyujanggak Kyu 3742), (A) and (B) are followed by statements made up of (D) and (E), as follow: (D) This is not discussed here in detail because there are geomancers books [on the subject].48 (E) However, house sites are different from grave sites. As water controls wealth, there are many affluent households by the edge of the water. Famous and prosperous villages, even if they are in mountainous areas, are also situated at the confluence of streams, which are [good] places to live for many generations.49 Part (A) is an introductory sentence, which is found at the beginning of the most of the six conditions in the geomancy section. While part (B) is the cardinal principle on the condition of watercourses, part (C) is a detailed quotation regarding the direction of watercourses and the direction that a house site should face. Part (D) is a short statement declaring what is not discussed at the point. The statement is alien in terms of the nature and flow of geomantic texts that are found



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in T’aengniji manuscripts. “This” in the statement seems to be referring to not (A), not (B), but (C), a detailed discussion of directions that a village and a house should face. Part (E), the statement emphasizing the differences between house geomancy and grave geomancy, is also alien. Although the topic of the T’aengniji is on settlement selections, the description and evaluation of tomb sites and grave sites are not excluded, as evidenced in the quotations listed earlier. It is also found, in the court-mountain–court-water-flow discussion in the geomancy section, that water-related principles are equally applied to both house sites and grave sites: Generally, whether a site is for a house or a grave, if a big river flows toward it, the site may enjoy initial prosperity but later be doomed to misfor­tune.50 Insertion of unfamiliar elements (D) and (E), unlike the usual treatment of house and grave geomancy including the quotation above, therefore, seems to have emerged during a later period. In table 16.1 the “watercourse” content and copy year of the selected manuscripts and publication year of the Kosŏ Kanhaenghoe and Kwangmunhoe editions of the T’aengniji printed versions are shown. The examination and comparison of watercourse content leads to a number of conclusions. First, the introductory sentences (A) and (B), the main principle on watercourses, remain unchanged, while (C), the complex prescription of directions, was replaced by (E), pinpointing the differences between house geomancy

Table 16.1.  Structure of “Watercourses” of the Selected Manuscripts and Printed Editions. Name of Manuscripts

Copy Year or Publication Year

Structure of “Watercourses”

Sadaebu Kagŏch’ŏ in Aju Chamnok T’aengniji in P’aerim Tongguk P’aryŏkchi (Yonsei University)

1751 or 1752 1751 or 1752 1792

(A), (B), (C)

T’aengniji (Dongguk University)

1796

(A), (B), (E)

Tongguk Chirihae (National Library of France) End of the 18th (B), (E) century P’aryŏkchi (Korea University) P’aryŏkchi (Yonsei University) Pakchongji (Jangseogak) Pakchongji (Kyujanggak)

1800–1834 1866 1850–1863*

(A), (B), (D), (E)

P’aryŏkchi (Kosŏ Kanhaenghoe edition) T’aengniji (Kwangmunhoe edition)

1910 1912

(A), (B), (D), (E)

*Dates provided by the Jangseogak Archives.

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and grave geomancy.51 Among the T’aengniji manuscripts not listed above are some manuscripts showing the combination of (A), (B), (C), and (E). This could mean that (E) emerged before (C) disappeared. Part (C) is found in Sadaebu Kagŏch’ŏ in Aju Chamnok and the T’aengniji in P’aerim, hand-copied by the date of 1752, and Tongguk P’aryŏkchi. Part (E) is found in the T’aengniji (Dongguk University) and Tongguk Chirihae, which are thought to have been copied in 1796 and “at the end of the eighteenth century,” respectively. This can suggest that the removal of (C) and the insertion of (E) occurred by the end of the eighteenth century. This implies that by that time, copiers, who were also readers of the T’aengniji, found the discussion of complex prescription of directions of watercourses no longer relevant in house geomancy. The manuscripts that contain (D) do not contain (C). The “This” in sentence (D), “This is not discussed here in detail because there are geomancers books,” seems to be referring to (C).52 The sentence (D), a statement of not being willing to discuss in the section the complex rules regarding directions of water flow, is thought to have emerged in the manuscripts copied after the early part of the nineteenth century.53 Among 106 T’aengniji manuscripts that I have examined, I found 63 manuscripts have the content of the watercourse with the order and arrangement of (A), (B), (D), and (E). The majority of the T’aengniji manuscripts having this arrangement indicates that since the early part of the nineteenth century onward, copiers and readers came to accept excluding the detailed prescription of direction as a norm. Different Use of Critical Terms Other geomancy-related differences found in the manuscripts are at the word level. Among the irregularities, two sets of words are apparent: p’unggi 風氣 (wind energy) versus sugi 水氣 (water energy), which appears in the discussion of the terrain; and sanjung 山中(in the mountains) versus sujung 水中 (in the water), which appear in the discussion of the color of the soil. P’unggi and sugi both have meanings in the medical context. Apart from this, p’unggi has been generally used, in traditional Korean literature, for diverse meanings, including custom, climate, appearance, attitude, behavior, force, vigor, energy, and aura of place, while sugi is used when directly related to water. In scholarly works from the Chosŏn dynasty, I have found that p’unggi was used to express the ultimate essence a place can possess, and its preservation, a key to determining the value of a place. Hong Mansŏn concluded his preface to Part One, Pokkŏ 卜居 (Selection of Livable Places), of Sallim Kyŏngje using p’unggi as follows: One must first heed and select [the place] where its energy is gathered and stored and its front and back are peaceful and calm and then make



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a perpetual plan. Therefore, I recorded here the ways of selecting livable places and make it the first part.54 Yi Ik used p’unggi in describing the desirable energy of Kyŏngsang Province, which can be assessed through observing its scenery. By observing its scenery, one finds out whether the energy [of a place] is concentrated or and dissipated.55 In the above quotations it is clear that p’unggi is used to represent the wholesome and essential energy of a place. P’unggi is also recognized as an important term by modern scholars. Yi Pyŏngdo has claimed repeatedly that the important conditions in geomancy are in the phrases of sanha kŭmdae 山河襟帶 (wrapping of mountains and circling of river), sansu hoep’o 山水回抱 (returning mountains and embracing water), and p’unggi milchip 風氣密集 (concentration of energy [of a place]).56 He later summarized the above requirement for an auspicious landscape in one condition: protecting the p’unggi (energy) of the place from being dispersed through the gathering of mountains and water, and cooperation between guest and master [surrounding landforms and the propitious spot].57 While p’unggi would have been used as a term of the utmost importance by Yi Chung-hwan, it is not found in many T’aengniji manuscripts. The discussion of the terrain in the geomancy section of Pakchongji is as follows:58 People live by benefiting from yang energy and the sky supplies yang light [i.e., sunlight]. An area with a very limited view of the sky is certainly not a good place to live. Thus, the wider a plain is, the better accommodation it provides. In such places the sun, the moon, and the stars shine brightly and the climatic conditions of rain, wind, cold, and warmth are moderate and comfortable, so many great men of ability are born and there is less incidence of disease. A vast plain surrounded by low hills cannot be called mountainous; it is still a wide plain. The reason is that the brightness of the sky is not blocked out and the water energy has far-reaching influence. Even in high mountains, if a place has extensive flat land it can also be an auspicious place. (emphasis added) The use of sugi (water energy) in the second-to-last sentence in the above quotation is odd.59 In this discussion, what is most emphasized is the importance of places’ having a wide view of the sky. In wide planes, with much yang energy received from the sky, what is thought to be transmitted far would definitely not be the water energy of the place. The term sugi suddenly appears, out of context. Even in the T’aengniji manuscripts where sugi is entered in the discussion of t­errain, the

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term sugi is hardly used elsewhere.60 In the meanwhile, p’unggi is used throughout the manuscript, apart from the section quoted above, around ten times both in the unabridged early manuscripts and in the two printed editions. The term is used in a wide context and can be translated as civilization, energy, spirit, vigor, atmosphere, scenery, climate, etc. Therefore, the appearance of sugi in place of p’unggi in the discussion of the terrain in some T’aengniji manuscripts is definitely an error. As p’unggi was used in the early T’aengniji manuscripts, the manuscripts with sugi are thought to have been produced during a later period. Sanjung (in the mountains) or sujung (in the water), the other set of irregularly used words, appears in the beginning of the discussion of the color-of-soil section. In Tongguk P’aryŏkchi the discussion begins as follows: On the whole, in rural settlements, either in the mountains or beside water, if the color of the soil is sandy and the soil is firm and dense, the water from a well or spring will be clean and cool. Such a place is a livable locality.61 In T’aengniji manuscripts the term sujung, which is used in other sections, literally means “in the water.” It is common sense to accept sujung in the two printed editions and several manuscripts as an error for “in the mountains” because it is hard to imagine finding a settlement in or on the water in Korea. The following table represents the contrasting features of T’aengniji manuscripts and printed editions discussed so far in the watercourses, terrain, and color-of-soil portions of the geomancy section. Table 16.2.  Features in “Geomancy” in the Selected Manuscripts and Printed Editions Name of the Manuscripts

Structure of “Watercourses”

Entry of Words in “Terrain” and “Color of the Soil”

Sadaebu Kagŏch’ŏ in Aju Chamnok T’aengniji in P’aerim Tongguk P’aryŏkchi

(A), (B), (C)

p’unggi, sanjung

T’aengniji (Dongguk)

(A), (B), (E)

p’unggi, sanjung

Tongguk Chirihae

(B), (E)

p’unggi, sanjung

P’aryŏkchi (Korea) P’aryŏkchi (Yonsei)

(A), (B), (D), (E)

p’unggi, sanjung

Pakchongji (Jangseogak) Pakchongji (Kyujanggak)

(A), (B), (D), (E)

sugi, sanjung

P’aryŏkchi (Kosŏ Kanhaenghoe) T’aengniji (Kwangmunhoe)

(A), (B), (D), (E)

sugi, sujung



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While sanjung “in the mountain” appears in all of the manuscripts under discussion here, sujung “in the water” is found in place of sanjung in the Kosŏ Kanhaenghoe and Kwangmunhoe editions. A cross-examination of the features in table 16.2 confirms that sugi and sujung were not the original terms but were entered at a later stage. The use of sugi and sujung, which does not go well with the flow of the text in T’aengniji discussions, seems to have been made unconsciously. From the fact that P’aryŏkchi (Yonsei University), which was hand-copied in 1866, does not reveal these word-level errors, it might be possible to speculate that these errors could have appeared in the latter part of the nineteenth century. The use of sujung in place of sanjung is also found in several manuscripts that are not discussed here. There are eight manuscripts where sugi and sanjung are used and twenty manuscripts that include sugi and sujung in the geomancy section. These word-level changes in a considerable number of manuscripts and in both the Kosŏ Kanhaenghoe and Kwangmunhoe printed editions suggest that these errors had been copied down for a while without being noticed. This suggests that the copiers and editors, most of whom were scholars in the late nineteenth century till the early twentieth century, did not heed the changes in geomantic principles, which had been treasured for centuries before this period. 4. Conclusion The T’aengniji, the most prominent Korean classic on choosing settlements, was eagerly hand-copied by intellectuals since its completion in 1751 until after 1910, resulting in numerous T’aengniji manuscripts. Therefore, the content of T’aengniji manuscripts is valuable in understanding the Korean intellectuals’ changing discourse on diverse topics, including geomancy, during the late Chosŏn dynasty. Although it is not focused solely on the topic of geomancy, the T’aengniji treated geomancy seriously, as a genuine system of explaining the natural environment and a body of knowledge on selecting livable settlements. The “Geomancy” section, where significant changes occurred, is regarded as being of prime importance in T’aengniji manuscripts. It appears first in “Discourse on the Selection of Livable Places” and is contained in almost all manuscripts, including abridged versions, as long as a manuscript contains “Discourse on the Selection of Livable Places.” Even in abridged versions, when the section is included, it appears in full. We are assured that the examination of the T’aengniji manuscripts enables us to grasp the changes that occurred in people’s perception of geomancy over time. In this examination of the geomantic content featured in different versions of T’aengniji manuscripts, whose copy dates are known, two major disparities were found in the “Geomancy” section of the book: differences in the structure of paragraphs dealing with “Watercourses” and differences in words used in the treatment called “Terrain” and “Color of the Soil.” The major structural changes found in the late T’aengniji manuscripts as related to the book’s discussion of geomancy are, first, the deletion of a detailed paragraph

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prescribing watercourse directions in relation to settlement sites, second, the insertion of a paragraph clarifying a principle of house sites, which is different than that of grave sites, and third, the insertion of a sentence declaring that the above detailed prescription will not be dealt in the text. The final structure resulting from these changes is found in a majority of T’aengniji manuscripts: 63 of the 106 manuscripts I examined. Taking into account the discussions so far, the following conclusions can be drawn: (1) A detailed prescription of watercourse directions had been removed from the text by the end of eighteenth century. (2) A paragraph declaring that selecting house sites is different from selecting grave sites had been included in the text by the end of the eighteenth century. (3) A sentence indicating a decision not to discuss the detailed prescription of directions seems to have been inserted into the text at some point after the early nineteenth century. (4) Regarding word-level changes, the replacement of p’unggi with sugi and sanjung with sujung seemed to have been initiated in the late nineteenth century. The first change implies that the practice of consulting directions of watercourses for house or settlement sites had become less important by the end of the eighteenth century. The second change of distancing house geomancy from grave geomancy, which had occurred in the same period, could have been a result of the excessive practice of grave geomancy to the detriment of the harmony of a village or villages and the whole society. The third change entailed inserting a phrase declaring that a detailed discussion of directions is not included seems to have been initiated in the early nineteenth century. These changes are thought to have been initially made consciously by copiers. This indicates that by the turn of the nineteenth century, readers of the T’aengniji tried to make clear distinctions between house geomancy and grave geomancy. The fourth change type was unconsciously made errors. Some are obviously errors that do not fit in the context at all. The fact that not only 28 T’aengniji manuscripts out of 106, and also two important printed versions printed by respectable publishers, have conspicuous word-level errors in the most revered geomancy section reflects a much-diminished interest even in house geomancy by the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Notes   1. This is one of the outcomes of my bibliographical study of T’aengniji manuscripts. I thank the Korea Foundation for a Field Research Fellowship for the early stage of the work.   2. The area to the southeast of Mt. Kyeryong in Ch’ungch’ŏng Province.   3. Yi Ik, Sŏngho Sasŏl (Miscellaneous Discussions of Sŏngho), ch. 3, “Ch’ŏnjimun” (Heaven and Earth), “Hando” (Seoul).   4. Yi, Sŏngho Sasŏl, ch. 3, “Ch’ŏnjimun,” “Hando.”   5. Yi, Sŏngho Sasŏl, ch. 1, “Ch’ŏnjimun,” “Paektu Chŏnggan” (Paektu Main Mountain Range).  6. The T’aengniji is regarded to have been written from early summer in 1750 to the beginning of summer 1751. See Yoon Inshil Choe, “A Study and Translation of T’aengniji”



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(PhD diss., University of Auckland, 1996), 20–24; and Yi Chung-hwan, T’aengniji, trans. and intro. Yoon Inshil Choe, Yi Chung-hwan’s T’aengniji: The Korean Classic for Choosing Settlements (Sydney: Wild Peony, 1998), 13–17.  7. The T’aengniji is still quoted and examined in scholarly works in the present day in many fields, such as geography, history, and architecture.   8. Hwang Yunsŏk, Ijae Nan’go (Rough Drafts of Ijae), 10 vols., Han’gukhak Charyo Ch’ongsŏ (Korean Studies Materials Series) No. 3 (Sŏngnam: Han’guk Chŏngsin Munhwa Yŏn’guwon, 1994–2004), part 17, 13th and 17th days of the 3rd month in 1771, fasc. 3.  9. The serious treatment of geomancy in the T’aengniji has created a controversy regarding its value in modern times. When describing the T’aengniji as the first Korean book on human geography, Ch’oe Namsŏn revealed that some regarded its inclusion of geomancy as a hindrance to its classification as a classic. See Ch’oe Namsŏn, editor’s note to Yi, T’aengniji (1912). 10. Murayama, Chosen-no Fusui, 298. 11. Ibid., 299. 12. Yoon Inshil Choe, “Study and Translation of T’aengniji,” 154–56. 13. See, for example, Choi, Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu Sasang, 255; and Ch’oe Yŏngjun, “P’ungsu-wa T’aengniji” (Geomancy and the T’aengniji), in Han’guksa Simin Kangjwa, vol. 14, ed. Lee Ki-baik (Seoul: Ilchogak, 1994), 106–11. 14. The T’aengniji is known by many different names, such as T’aengniji 擇里志; 擇里 誌; P’aryŏkchi 八域誌 (Book of Eight Districts), Sadaebu Kagŏch’ŏ 士大夫可居處 (Habitable Places for the Scholar-Gentry); Tongguk Sansurok 東國山水錄 (A Record of Korean Landscapes); Tongguk P’aryŏkchi 東國八域志 (Book of Eight Districts in Korea); Tongguk Chirihae 東國地理解 (Notes on the Geography of Korea); Pakchongji 博綜誌 (Book of Diverse Collections); and P’aryŏk Kagŏji 八域可居志 (Book of Habitable Places in Eight Districts). Fifty different titles denoting the T’aengniji are recorded in Nishikawa Takao, “Takurishi-no Imyo-ni Tsuite” (On Various Names of the T’aengniji), Kan 103 (1986): 126–29. In fact, the title that Yi Chung-hwan gave to the book was not the T’aengniji. See Kim Yaksŭl, “Sŏngho Susabon T’aengniji-e Taehayŏ” (On Sŏngho’s Manuscript of the T’aengniji), Kukhoe Tosŏgwanbo (National Assembly Library Review) 5, no. 4 (1968): 71. 15. The Chosŏn Kosŏ Kanhaenghoe 朝鮮古書刊行會 edition of the P’aryŏkchi was published in 1910 and the Chosŏn Kwangmunhoe 朝鮮光文會 edition of T’aengniji was edited and published in 1912 by Ch’oe Namsŏn. Chosŏn Kosŏ Kanhaenghoe and Chosŏn Kwangmunhoe will be referred to as “Kosŏ Kanhaenghoe” and “Kwangmunhoe,” respectively, for short. 16. Yoon Inshil Choe, “T’aengniji Ch’ogibon-ŭi T’ŭksŏng” (The Characteristics of the Early T’aengniji Manuscripts), in Proceedings of the 2011 Geography Conference (Sŏngnam: Han’gukhak Chung’ang Yŏn’guwon, 2011), 142–51. In this discussion, the names of parts and sections of the T’aengniji are from the Kwangmunhoe edition. 17. Yoon Inshil Choe, “An Examination of Geomancy (P’ungsu) as Employed in T’aengniji,” International Review of Korean Studies 6, no. 1 (2009): 63–68. 18. Yoon, “Study and Translation of T’aengniji,” 118–43. 19. Yoon, “T’aengniji Ch’ogibon-ŭi T’ŭksŏng,” 144. 20. The first half of the T’aengniji in P’aerim covers Kyŏngsang, Chŏlla, Ch’ungch’ŏng and Kyŏnggi Provinces, geomancy, social characteristics, and scenery. All of these sections except for the geomancy section are abridged. See Inshil Choe Yoon, “T’aengniji Ch’ogi P’ilsabon Ch’ujŏng’-ŭl Wihan Sŏjijŏk Koch’al” (A Bibliographic Approach toward the Identification of the Early T’aengniji Manuscripts), Sŏji Hakpo (Journal of the Bibliography Society of Korea) 40 (2012): 155–74.

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21. Huh Woong, “Kugŏsa-ŭi Ch’ŭngmyŏn-ŭrŏ Pon Kungmunp’an T’aengniji-ŭi Ŏnŏ Punsŏk” (A Linguistic Analysis of the Korean-language Version of the T’aengniji from the Perspective of the History of Korean), Aesan Hakpo 3 (1984): 31–54. Tongguk Chirihae is the only extant manuscript written in the Korean script and is kept in the National Library of France (Bibliothèque nationale de France). The content of this manuscript is in the Aesan Hakhoe, “Tongguk Chirihae-gŏn,” Aesan Hakpo 3 (1983): 75–163. The existence of Tongguk Chirihae suggests that the T’aengniji was read not only among the scholar-gentry and bureaucratic middle class serving in the government, but also by women of these classes and freeborn people, most of whom were not trained to read writing in Chinese characters. 22. To find out the reason for this, see Yoon, “T’aengniji Ch’ogibon-ŭi T’ŭksŏng,” 144–45. 23. No other manuscripts were given copy dates during the Chosŏn dynasty by libraries. 24. In Tongguk Chirihae no titles are found for the some of the parts and sections contained in some parts. However, titles for parts and sections are indicated here for convenience. These titles are from the Kwangmunhoe edition, as explained earlier. 25. Yang, Hanlongjing. 26. Yi Chung-hwan, Tongguk Chirihae, Kyŏnggi Province. 27. Ibid. 28. Ibid. 29. Yi, Tongguk Chirihae, Kyŏngsang Province. 30. Ibid. 31. Ibid. 32. An official name of King Sejong (r. 1418–1450). 33. Yi, Tongguk Chirihae, Kyŏnggi Province. 34. Yi, Tongguk Chirihae, P’yŏng’an Province. 35. Yi, Tongguk Chirihae, Kyŏnggi Province. 36. Yi, Tongguk Chirihae, Kyŏngsang Province. 37. I found the same with the geomantic contents in the Kwangmunhoe edition. See Yoon, “Examination of Geomancy (P’ungsu) as Employed in T’aengniji,” 59–69. 38. This is same with my examination of the Kwangmunhoe edition. See Yoon, “Examination of Geomancy (P’ungsu) as Employed in T’aengniji,” 70–72. 39. His role title was the Selection Secretary of the senior 5th rank. Court official posts in the Chosŏn dynasty were graded into nine ranks and each rank had senior and junior positions. 40. Yi Chung-hwan was arrested on the grounds of his alleged participation in geomancer Mok Horyong’s accusation against the Old Doctrine Faction, which resulted in the mass killing of its members including four ministers during the Literati Purge of 1722. 41. Yoon, “Examination of Geomancy (P’ungsu) as Employed in T’aengniji,” 72–73. 42. As noted above, these are three of the six conditions required for a desirable site for an abode: the outlet of a watercourse, the terrain, the shape of mountains, the color of the soil, the watercourses, and the court mountain and court water flow. 43. “凡無水之地不可居.” The Chinese text of this part, (A), and the following parts, (B) and (C), are from Sadaebu Kagŏch’ŏ in Aju Chamnok. The corresponding texts of the T’aengniji in P’aerim, Tongguk P’aryŏkchi, and T’aengniji (Dongguk University) are slightly different from that of Sadaebu Kagŏch’ŏ. They are, however, minor ones such as an omission



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or interchange of a Chinese character. In my earlier study of these parts, I used the text of Tongguk P’aryŏkchi. See Yoon, “T’aengniji Ch’ogibon-ŭi T’ŭksŏng,” 143. 44. “山必得本配然後方盡生化之妙 然水必來去合理然後方成種毓之吉.” 45. Chŏng’ohaeng 正五行, ssangsan ohaeng 雙山五行, and chinohaeng 眞五行 are ways of combining yin-yang, Five Elements (wuxing) and twenty-four directions. 46. A way of assigning twenty-four directions to the eight diagrams and then designating each of them to either yin or yang. 47.“故一依堪輿家㝎論 左旋陽基須正五行双山五行消水 右旋陽氣只眞五行消水苐宅坐向 又須與來水合淨陰淨陽方爲純美 之地.” 48. “此有堪輿家書姑不具論.” The text of this part, (D), and the following part, (E), are from Pakchongji manuscripts. In the P’aryŏkchi (Yonsei University, Kosŏ [III] 3779) manuscript, “此有堪輿家說具論” is entered. The omission of the character 不 from the manuscript is an obvious error that must have occurred during the process of copying. 49. “然陽基異於陰宅 水管財祿 故積水之濱 多富厚家 名村盛塢 雖山中亦有溪澗聚會 方 爲世代久遠之居.” The text of this part in the manuscript with the title P’aryŏkchi contains word-level errors. 50. “凡逆大水處 無論陽基陰宅 初雖興發 久則無不敗滅.” 51. See Yoon Inshil Choe, “Early Period T’aengniji Manuscripts,” Korean Studies 37 (2013): 239. 52. Yoon, “Early Period T’aengniji Manuscripts,” 236. 53. Ibid., 239. 54. “必先審擇其風氣之藏聚 面背之安穩 以爲永久之圖 玆錄卜居之方 爲第一.” Hong, Sinp’yŏn Kugyŏk Sallim Kyŏngje, “Pokkŏsŏ” (Preface to Selection of Livable Places). 55. “觀其山水知風氣之聚散,” in Yi, Sŏngho Sasŏl, ch. 3, “Ch’ŏnjimun,” “Yangnam Suse” (Water Conditions of the Two Southern Provinces of Kyŏngsang and Chŏlla). 56. Yi, Koryŏ Sidae-ŭi Yŏn’gu (1980), 25. 57. Ibid., 81. 58. “凡人受陽氣以生 天乃陽光也 少見天處决不可居矣 故野逾廣則基逾美 使日月星辰之 光 粲然恒臨風雨寒暑之候 央然得中 人才多出而亦少疾病 最忌四山高壓 日晩出而早入 夜或不 見北斗 靈光旣少 陰氣易乘 則或作神叢鬼窟 朝夕嵐瘴之氣又使人易病 此所以峽居不如野居 而 大野中殘山周廻 則此不可以山指 而統以野稱之者 由天光不隔水氣遠通也 至於高山之下亦 須開 野處 方可作基.”

59. In the place of “sugi,” “p’unggi” (wind energy) is entered in the T’aengniji in P’aerim, T’aengniji (Dongguk University), and P’aryŏkchi. In Tongguk Chirihae, “param kŭiun 바람 긔운” (wind energy) is entered. 60. While sugi is not found elsewhere, the expression sansujigi 山水之氣 (energy of the landscape) is found when describing the landscape of Kang’won Province in the scenery section of Pakchongji. In the printed Kosŏ Kanhaenghoe and Kwangmunhoe editions, sansugi 山水氣 (energy of the landscape) is entered in its place. 61. “凡村居無論山中水邊 土色砂土堅密 則井泉亦淸冽 如此則可居 若赤粘墨礫黃細 則是 死土也 其地所出井泉必有嵐瘴 如此則不可居.”

17 Concluding Remarks and Reflections Hong-key Yoon

This book is the result of an interdisciplinary team effort over seven years to investigate historical and cultural aspects of geomancy in Korea. The scholars participating in the research team are from diverse disciplines, such as cultural and historical geography, environmental science, architecture, landscape architecture, religious studies, and medical science. Interdisciplinary work was necessary, because geomancy represents a synthesis of different sets of knowledge covering diverse fields of studies. This book is NOT written as a guide or manual for professional or amateur geomancers to practice geomancy by divining auspicious locations for clients. This book is a serious academic adventure to explain geomancy, which is often misunderstood by scholars and the public in the West and the East. Some may argue that geomancy is a worthless superstition, others may say it is set of religious beliefs or pseudoscience, and some see scientific ideas incorporated or hidden inside an apparently superstitious practice. Some argue that it is not yet proven but is a set of scientific knowledge that is bound to be proven. Given the way professional geomancers practice it and the way the public perceives it, geomancy definitely includes plenty of superstitious elements. But one should not label it a simple superstition—as we have discussed in this book, it contains a complicated and sophisticated body of environmental ideas and knowledge covering valuable ecological wisdom of premodern times. The position of the editor of this book, as declared in his earlier publications, is that geomancy cannot be classified as a superstition, religion, or science, because it does not fit comfortably into any one of these Western categories, nor can it be understood properly using conventional Western notions. Geomancy is “a unique and comprehensive system of conceptualizing the physical environment that regulates human ecology by influencing humans to select auspicious environment and build harmonious structures such as graves, houses, and cities on them.”1 373

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This book in its introductory chapter strongly advocates the revival of adopting the term geomancy in the English language instead of using the Chinese word, fengshui when we discuss the concept outside of China. A standard Oxford dictionary of the English language clearly defines geomancy as a term equivalent to fengshui in Chinese. Therefore, the term geomancy (or p’ungsu, using the Korean term) in Korea is more appropriate than using the term fengshui in Korea. Although geomancy in Korea originally came from China and is based on Chinese geomantic classics, Korean geomancy was applied to Korean situations and developed separately in Korean culture. Out of all chapters in this book, chapter 2 provides the only chronological overview of some key questions in the history of geomancy in Korea. Unlike some previous studies by other scholars, the periodization of “the history of geomancy” in this book did not adopt the cycle of Korean dynastic historical units. A historical period in this book is designated by considering the prominent historical events in geomancy—we believe this periodization exercise is much more meaningful and useful in organizing historical events of geomancy in Korea. This chapter also documented and explained some key social uprisings (armed rebellions) in Korean history in which geomancy played an important role. It also documents and discusses some important historical events in environmental management in Korea, while revealing the government institutions relating to geomancy in the historical record. The last section of the chapter was a brief review of the characteristics of geomancy in Korean culture. After these six chapters, the following ten chapters explored the various traditional ecological and historical-cultural topics in Korean geomancy, and their discussions can be grouped into three themes: geomancy in landscape management, the importance of geomancy in the construction of the Korean cultural landscape, and the legacy of geomancy in Korean thought and classical writings. Chapters 7 and 8 contribute to the theme of “geomancy and landscape management.” Chapter 7 clearly argues that the forests established for geomantic purposes during the Chosŏn dynasty are in fact the local people’s consideration of environmental management for acquiring and conserving water resources. Chapter 8 exposes the folk narratives of the provincial city of Chinju that are about geomantic reinforcement of a landscape to control river water flow by establishing and maintaining groves. The next four chapters investigate the importance of geomancy in the construction of Korean cultural landscapes, including architecture and landscape architecture. Chapter 9 discusses the principles of geomancy as related to Korean architecture and how the features of Korean architectural heritage reflect the close relationships between architecture and geomancy in Korea. Chapter 10 attempts to appreciate the impact of geomancy on Korean landscape gardening with the famous Kosan Yun Sŏn-do’s Garden in Pogilto Island, South Chŏlla Province. It is an inductive approach, by focusing on a particular traditional garden to understand



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geomantic aesthetic principles as applied to Korean traditional gardens during the Chosŏn dynasty. In geomancy, landscape is conceptualized as an animate or inanimate entity functioning as a system. These systems are called “geomantic landscapes,” and a “sailing boat” is one of the more popular ones. Chapter 11 explores the cultural ecological links in the geomantic landscape of a sailing boat that impose various restrictions on and develop intriguing human-environment relationships in the construction of a cultural landscape. Chapter 12 documents and explains how and why people create artificial earth mounds or stone piles as a means of modifying a geomantic landscape. The practicing professional geomancers in Korea believed that naturally endowed conditions of geomantic landscapes may not be perfect and often have minor shortcomings. Thus, people attempted to modify the landscape artificially with earth mounds and stone piles to remedy the shortcomings and reinforce the quality of a geomantic landscape. The remaining four chapters deal with themes relating to Geomancy in Korean thought and literary writings. Chapter 13 was a psychological analysis of geomancy in Korea. This chapter may well represent the first attempt to appreciate the medical aspects of the geomantic tradition in Korea. Chapters 14 and 15 revealed the intimate relationships between geomancy and two major religions of traditional Korea: Buddhism and Confucianism. Chapter 14 documented and explained the interactions between geomancy and Buddhism during the Koryŏ dynasty, and chapter 15 dealt with geomantic discourses during the Chosŏn dynasty among the Confucian literati—in what manner they refuted geomantic ideas as well as why some endorsed some aspects of geomancy. Chapter 16 explored the changing perception of p’ungsu during the Late Chosŏn dynasty based on T’aengniji manuscripts. T’aengniji is an important source of original Korean ideas of geomancy and is probably the single most important literature on choosing favorable living places for Confucian scholar gentries of the Chosŏn dynasty. In concluding this book of the first advanced level interdisciplinary research on geomancy in Korea, first I suggest that each chapter representing a different disciplinary specialty deserves to be developed into a monograph in the near future. This may well be a task for the current contributors to this book as well as a task for future researchers interested in different aspects of geomancy. Second, while the art of geomancy that has been practiced in Korea and China might be labeled a superstitious belief system that had a more negative than positive impact on culture and society, we should not discount some important ecological principles that exist in the art. Future researchers should be mindful of these aspects of geomancy, and note that they can in fact reveal geomantic wisdom that can benefit humanity’s future functioning in the environment. Some examples of this geomantic wisdom that immediately come to mind are the concept of a suitable size of settlement within a given environmental condition or the principles of environmental balance (especially to the left and right side of a settlement).

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Third, we need to distinguish researchers of geomancy from (fanatical) practicing professional geomancers who choose auspicious sites to collect fees from clienteles. The actual practice of geomancy and a person’s profession of faith in the art of geomancy is not an appropriate topic of academic research. However, an academic study of geomancy may well document, describe, and interpret the geomantic phenomena generated by professional geomancers and their clienteles. This is the first interdisciplinary effort by experts on geomancy from a number of different disciplines to assess the principles and practice of geomancy in Korea and debate the role of geomancy in Korean culture—a true discourse on the timeless art of geomancy.

Notes   1. Yoon, The Culture of Fengshui in Korea, 311.

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Contributors

Won-suk Choi is an associate professor of geography) at the Research Institute of Gyeongnam Culture, Gyeongsang National University, Korea. He is currently the president of the Association of Korean Cultural and Historical Geographers. He completed a PhD degree at Korea University, where he studied historical geography and p’ungsu. His publications include three books, Korean Pungsu and Bibo (Minsokwon, 2004, in Korean), Korean Mountains from the Humanities Perspective (Hangilsa, 2014, in Korean), and Reading into Mountains and Waters of Korea (Hangilsa, 2015, in Korean), and a number of articles in historical geography and Korean p’ungsu. Cheol Joong Kang is a psychiatrist and Jungian analyst in South Korea. He was an assistant professor of psychiatry in the School of Medicine at the Pusan National University. He is the director of the Jung Institute in Busan and a faculty member (training analyst) at the C. G. Jung Institute of Korea. His articles include “Mother Complex in Men” (Shim-Song Yon-Gu, 2007), “A Psychological Interpretation of the Korean Fairytale, ‘Eyes in the Sewing Box’” (Shim-Song Yon-Gu, 2008), and others in the field of psychiatry and analytical psychology. Kim Duk Hyun is a professor emeritus of geography education at Gyeongsang National University, Korea. He completed BA, MA, and PhD at Seoul National University. He has served as the president of the Association of Korean Cultural and Historical Geographers and as a committee member on the Cultural Heritage Administration in Korea. He has studied Korean traditional landscapes such as the local administrative city of the Chosŏn dynasty, Confucian Private College (Seowon), ancient tombs, and Confucian cultural scenery. His books include The Seowon in Korea (Munsachul, 2014, in Korean) and The Twelve Confucian Scholar

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Contributors

Villages of Andong (Hangukhakjungangyenguwon, 2016, in Korean). He translated Place and Placelessness (Nonhyung, 2005, in Korean). Dowon Lee is a professor of ecology and biogeochemistry at the Graduate School of Environment Studies, Seoul National University. He completed a PhD degree at Virginia Tech, Blacksburg, Virginia, USA, majoring in environmental science and engineering. His publications include several books, Landscape Ecology (Seoul National University Press, 2001, in Korean) and Ecosystem Services of Traditional Village Groves in Korea (Seoul National University Press, 2007, in Korean), and a number of articles on forest ecology, biogeochemistry, and hydrology. He was honored with the 1990 Wesley W. Horner Award when his 1989 paper was selected as the year’s best in the field of hydrology published in the journals of the American Society of Civil Engineers. Hwa Lee is a research professor in PCU college and a traditional Chinese medicine practitioner in Canada. She got a PhD at Seoul National University, South Korea. She has studied fengshui in the humanities since 1997, and tried to do interdisciplinary research with studies of the body. She has four publications, Feng-Shui Practice throughout the Document of Mountain Lawsuits, San-Song and Feng-shui Map, San-Do in Chosun Dynasty (MinSokWon, 2013), What Is Feng-shui? (Ehaksa, 2013), A Study on Feng-Shui Belief in the Choson Dynasty—In Relation to Confucianism (Kstudy, 2005), and FengShui In East Asia (translation from Japanese to Korean (YoShio Watanabe, 2013) as well as a number of articles about fengshui belief based on experience. Jongsang Sung studied landscape architecture at Seoul National University. After working fifteen years in the field of landscape planning and design, he, as a dean/ professor, is currently teaching landscape design theories and studio at the Graduate School of Environmental Studies, Seoul National University. His works include the ’93 Daejeon Expo, the renovation of Insadong Street, Seonyu-do park design, the landscape design for Yongsan national museum of Korea, and the master plan of Suncheon International Garden Expo. His recent research focuses on the aspects of ecology and tradition in landscape design; he strives to understand the relationships between the place, nature, and humans. Hong-key Yoon is an associate professor (geography) in the School of Environment at the University of Auckland. He was born and raised in a small South Korean village, and completed a PhD degree at UC Berkeley, where he studied cultural geography. His publications include three books, Maori Mind, Maori Land (Peter Lang, 1986), Geomantic Relationships Between Culture and Nature in Korea (Orient Cultural Service, 1976), and The Culture of Fengshui in Korea (Lexington Books, 2006) as well as a number of articles in cultural geography.



Contributors 405

Inshil Choe Yoon is a senior lecturer (Korean) in the School of Cultures, Languages and Linguistics at the University of Auckland. Brought up in Seoul, she graduated from Seoul National University and received a PhD degree at the University of Auckland. Her publications include Moduda: All Together (Doosan Donga, 1997), T’aengniji: The Korean Classic for Choosing Settlements (Wild Peony, 1998), and Time for Korean (Hollym, 2009 revised edition). In-choul Zho is a professsor of oriental science at Wonkwang Digital University in Korea. He was born and raised in Kyoungju, South Korea. He completed a PhD degree at Sungkyunkwan University, where he studied architectural design. His publications include three books, Geomancy in Real Estate Industry (Seoul: Pyeongdanmunhwasa, 2007, in Korean), Geomancy of Our Generation (Seoul: Minsokwon, 2008, in Korean) and Secrets of Yang Saeng Geomancy (Seoul: Da-San Books, 2010, in Korean) as well as a number of articles in the field of architecture and geomancy.

Index

Page numbers in italics refer to tables and figures. aesthetic values: balance, 244, 306 and asymmetry, 229f10.1, 230, 233 ignored in present-day Seoul, 84 and the structure of Puyongdong,  237–238, 238f10.5 and Tosŏn’s, pibo theory, 320 of yin and yang, 230–231 and the enjoyment of landscape scenery, 233 in Korean traditions: indifference towards, 232, 248n37 morality as spatial ideology, 232 Western views: compared with Eastern views, 232 ethics viewed as a separate discipline, 231–232 of humanity compared with chosan pibo, 290–292, 291t12.1 See also geomantic aesthetics; visual beauty An Chŏngbok, 349n21 animals and insects: bats, 207 featured in geomantic landscape types in Korea, 256–258 mulhyŏngnon (likening of mountain shapes to animate figures), 230–231

See also birds; centipedes; Ch’ŏngnyong or Azure Dragon; Chujak or Red Bird; cows; dragons; Paeko or White Tiger; tigers; turtles; worms animal symbols representing the four cardinal directions, 217n31 and Chinju geomancy, 152 in the Gaia system, 259 in the Koguryŏ tombs, 26, 29–30ff2.1– 2.4, 32 mounds of mind combining pibo p’ungsu and Neo-Confucianism, 128 and the site of Hŏn Tomb, 49 substitution of plants for, 85, 88 symbolic meanings of, 304 ansan (table mountain or the front mountain), 224 of the Chinju settlement, 148 different elevations of “t’aejosan-chosanchusan-ansan,” 230 excessive height of, 227, 235 of Sŏnam Temple, 246n13 of Sŏn’gyojang in Kangnŭng City, 225 and the structure of Puyongdong’s geomancy, 237, 238, 239 architecture: anch’ae (inner quarters), 211 of Imch’onggak, 188f9.19 407

408

Index

architecture: anch’ae (inner quarters) (continued) “interior-exterior wall” in front of, 211f9.41 birthing rooms, 170 boundary walls, avoidance of ch’ŭngsal, 209, 210ff9.39–40, 211–212 Chŏsun dynasty examples as representative of traditional Korean architecture, 163–166 fake or temporary palaces, 321–322 and the Gaia theory, 172 letters formed by blocks of buildings, 188 digeut-shaped buildings, 187, 187f9.18, 203 maru (raised wooden floors), 163, 215n3, 216n11 nae’oebyŏk [naewebyŏk] (“interiorexterior wall”), 211f9.41, 211 Chinese zhaobi compared with, 211, 212f9.42 ondol (under-floor heating), 163, 215n3, 216n11 protective dieties of, 218n39 roof styles, 185–187, 186f9.16, 186f9.17 curving of, 210f9.39 of T’aekp’ŭng Pavilion, 190, 190f9.21 and symbols in the Yijing, T’aekp’ŭng Pavilion, 188 See also centrality; haengju-hyŏng (sailing boat) form; hierarchical order; horseshoe-shaped places; Kyŏngbok Palace; pillars astro-geomancy, 10–11 Ch’ŏnmun Chirisŏ (book of Astrogeomancy), 117, 316 Azure Dragon. See Ch’ŏngnyong birds: sottae (bird-shaped wooden carvings), 220n60 in the geomantic landscape of a sailing boats, 103, 271–272, 271f11.5 See also chickens; Chujak or Red Bird boat-shaped form. See haengju-hyŏng Buddhism: geomancer-monks. See Master Muhak; Master Tosŏn; Sŏngji

introduction of Zen Buddhism to Korea, 318 sacred locations with Buddhist spirits in Samguk Yusa, Hwangnyong Temple, 316–317, 325t14.3 temple selection using kanja, 325 centipedes: as food for roosters, 203 good fortune symbolized by, 207, 208f9.36 ogong ipchi-hyŏng (A centipede entering the soil) geomantic landscape form, 203, 257 centrality: holy places of villages associated with, 198 of palaces in capital planning, 216n17 of the universe: determined by a yundo (geomantic compass), 175, 214 Eliade on, 171–172 See also pillars Chang Hyon’gwang, “Uibongnip Ch’asumun” (A Writing Arguing for Rebuilding the Grove Covering the Settlement), 146–147 Chang Yŏnghun, 246n8, 247n22 Cheng Yichuan, 343 chickens: Kumgye P’oran-hyŏng (A golden hen sitting on eggs): digging wells discouraged, 267 grave site of the Chŏng family of Tongnae, 257 roosters: mountains recognized as, 231 Tokkyebong (solitary rooster peak), 203, 204f9.32 chigi (qi of earth). See under qi Chinju settlement: Azure Dragon and White Tiger hill ranges paired with on the Chinju County part of Haedong Chido, 148 Chinyangji (Local Gazetteer of Chinju), complilation by Sŏng Yŏsin, 147, 155, 160n21



Index 409

flying phoenix (Pibong) geomantic form of, 148–150 Confucian meaning of, 152–155 geomantic reinforcement forest (piborim) built for, 151–152 maps of: geomantic map of, 148, 149f8.1 map of its geomantic landscape, 151f8.3 Mt. Sŏnhak in the landscape of, 152 picturesque map of, 150f8.2 chiri (geomancy-geography): Chiriji (Book of Geography), 95n30 and the term p’ungsu, 10–12 Cho, Chihun, 252n66 Ch’oe, Cheu, Yongdam Yusa (Hymns from Dragon Lake), 65, 66f3.1 Ch’oe, Ch’won: inscription on the Stele of Sungbok Temple, 33, 40, 316–317 Taesŭngboksabimyŏng, 316–317 Ch’oe, Sunu, 185, 214n1, 215n7, 216n9, 216n9 Choi, Changjo, 18, 245n4 Han’gug-ŭi P’ungsu Sasang (Geomantic Thought in Korea), 18, 276 Choi, Won Suk: on geomancy and Buddhism, 313–328passim on pibo, 19, 247n17, 276, 287, 293n9, 294n23 on the sailing-boat landscape of Uishin Maŭl Village, 270–271, 271f11.5 Chŏng Ch’ŏl, 246n8 Chŏnggamnok (Master Chōng’s Mirror Record), 77, 105, 328n11 chŏngja (Korean-style pavilion): and the application of geomantic principles, 8, 223 and the process of sangji (xiangdi in Chinese), 226 Ch’ŏngnyong or Azure Dragon (guardian on the left), 217n9, 217n31 and environmental elements in the Gaia system, 172, 259 in the Koguryŏ tombs, 29, 30f2.2, 32 naech’ŏngnyong/naeryong (inner Azure dragon to the left), 224, 235, 237

and the location and scenery surrounding Kwirae Pavilion, 225 sites identified with: Chagyak Peak and Mt. Chayang as, 225 hill ranges on a geomancy map (sando), 107f6.6 Hŏn Tomb, 49 Mt. Sŏnhak in Chinju, 152 stone pile at Orongi village, 287 Tosan Sŏwan, 50f2.8 symbolic meaning of, 305 trees as a substitute for, 85, 88 White Tiger hill ranges paired with: on the Chinju County part of Haedong Chido, 148 and geomancy aesthetics, 107f6.6, 209, 230 and the geomancy of Naksŏjae, 235 in man-made hills, 128, 270, 286, 288 psychological beauty of, 232 and White Tiger wings of diguet-shaped houses, 187, 187f9.18 Ch’ŏngnyong Temple (Azure Dragon Temple), 64 Chŏng Sŏn, 52 Chŏng Yagyong, 101, 333, 343, 347n7 Mongmin Simsŏ, 51, 52 Chŏng Yŏngbang, 225 Chŏn Pongjun, 61, 65, 67f3.2, 68, 105 chosan pibo (created hills). See under pibo or sanch’ŏn piboron (complementary geomancy) Chosen-no Rinso (Groves in Korea), 152, 156, 161n30 Chosŏn dynasty: architecture of, 214, 215n6 examples. See Kyŏngbok Palace and the representation of traditional Korean architecture, 163–166 Choson Wangjo Sillok (Annals of the Choson Dynasty), 18, 86 Confucianism: acceptance of geomancy, 143–144, 333–337, 347n9 antigeomancy viewpoints, 146–147 as the dominant ideology, 141, 143 geomantic exam books, 73, 76–79, 78f4.1

410

Index

Chosŏn dynasty (continued) grave of Sŏngwagong, 101f6.4 kings of. See Sejong; Sŏngjong; Yi Sŏnggye sagachŏng’won (private gardens) of Chosŏn scholars, 245n2 settlement groves. See Chinju settlement Chujak or Red Bird, 128, 217n31, 217n31 Chinese plums and jujubes as a substitute for, 88 and environmental elements in the Gaia system, 259 in the Koguryŏ tombs, 29, 30f2.1, 32 symbolic meaning of, 304 Confucianism: “ancestor worship” and “prosperity of the descendants,” semiotic system of, 140, 141t8.1 geomancy as a subject of general education by Confucian scholars, 337 ideal of propriety (li in Chinese), 329, 330, 333, 337 logic of accepting geomancy, 143–145, 333–337 scholars: grave geomancy criticized by, 51–53 individual scholars. See Chang Hyon’gwang; Chŏng Yagyong; Lü Cai; Nam Sago; Pak Chega; Sima Guang; Sŏng Yŏsin; Yi Chunghwan; Yi Hangbok; Yi, Ik; Zhu Xi T’aengniji (Book of Choosing Settlements) used as a source by, 354, 364–365, 375 sensuous aspects of aesthetics treated with indifference, 232, 248n37 settlement groves as a symbolic landscape of the values of, 145–147 Sirhak School (Practical Learning School): criticism of geomancy, 51 place in the history of geomancy, 110 Sirhak School, rise of, 25 See also filial piety cows: mountains recognized as, 231, 255 Wau-hyŏng (reclining cow or ox), 254, 277 grave site of the Chŏng family of Usan, 257

Dallet, Claude-Charles, 102 dragons: Azure Dragon. See Ch’ŏngnyong Dragon King (Longwang in Chinese, Yong’wang in Korean), 179 featured in geomantic landscape types in Korea: Hwangnyong Togang-hyŏng (yellow dragon crossing a river), 256 Innyhong-hyŏng (earthworm-dragon), 255 hoeryongjawa (landform of a dragon turning its direction south), 359 Mt. Kuryong (Nine Dragon Mountain), 49 symbolic meanings of, 304 yellow dragon: Hwangnyong Temple, 316–317, 325t14.3 Hwangnyong Togang-hyŏng (yellow dragon crossing a river), 256 Dreyfuss, Henry S., 252n55 ecology: as a biological concept, 5 cultural ecology, and the study of relationships between a particular culture and its environmental conditions, 5–6 defined by Ernst Haeckel, 253 environmental preservation prompted by geomantic logic, 233–234, 255, 259 pine trees around and commoners’ graves, 84–85, 84, 85 and forest conservation around royal graves, 85–87 recycling: of water, 134, 135f7.11 writing the word Mogwang on recycled wood, 206, 207f9.35 See also water resources Eliade, Mircea, 171–172 filial piety, 147 and grave site selection, 48, 52–53, 56, 344–346 in Zhu Xi’s Fengshui Bianzhengshuo (Investigation of Geomancy), 342



Index 411

and the vertical flow of the t’ae-chochu-an, 232 Forbidden City, Jingshan as its backdrop, 102–103, 167, 216n18, 288 fortune-telling and prophecies: as a focus of geomancy in the latter half of the Chŏsun, 346–347 geomantic prophecy books, 77, 108 sich’ojŏm (shicaozhan in Chinese; fortune-telling), 189, 219n46 using kanja for temple location, 324, 325–326 Freedman, Maurice, on grave geomancy in China, 53 geomancy (p’unggsu chiri): as a subject of general education by Confucian scholars, 337 as a term, 10–12, 374 geomancy instead of fengshui: in English dictionaries, 14–16 and Western scholars, 12–14, 293n4 geomancy maps (sando): of Chinju settlement, 148, 149f8.1 illustration of an auspicious site, 108f6.7A miindanjanghyŏng sando (drawing of mountains forming the shape of a beautiful woman putting on makeup), 200, 201f9.29 simplistic sketch of mountain ranges, 108f6.7B geomantic aesthetics: Chang Yŏnghun’s explanation of, 247n22 complementary geomancy. See pibo or sanch’ŏn piboron deeming gardens, 247n14 and Korean gardens during the Chŏson, 8, 244–245, 246n6 relational aesthetics of Kosan Yun Sŏndo’s wollim, 242 mulhyŏngnon (likening of mountain shapes to animate figures), 230–231 and sanjom t’usi (sandian toushi in Chinese; “scattered perspective”), 228–229, 248n28 geomantic compasses. See yundo (compass) geomantic landscapes: of a sailing boat. See haengju-hyŏng

and the Gaia hypothesis, 172, 258–259 identification of animate or inanimate objects symbolically represented in, 254–255 Korean types of, 256–258 acquiring water (tŭksu hyŏnguk), 157 fire-shaped form, 194–195 hoeryongjawa (landform of a dragon turning its direction south), 359 identified by Murayama Chijun, 255– 256, 261–262 Wau-hyŏng. See under cows mulhyŏngnon (likening of mountain shapes to animate figures), 230–231 retaining the wind and acquiring water (changp’ung tuksu) as the essential purpose of, 122, 222 See also landforms geomantic prophecies (chiri toch’am, or p’ungsu toch’am), 104–105 and social upheaval, 105 geomantic text books: Chosŏn-dynasty exam books, 73, 76–79, 78f4.1 geography books: Chiriji (Book of Geography), 95n30 Ch’ŏnmun Chirisŏ (Book of Astrogeomancy), 117, 316 text by Yi Chunghwan, 119 Koryŏ-dynasty exam books, 72–73, 106 Glacken, Clarence J., 290–291, 294n29 government bureaus: and the modification of landforms, 289 Sallŭng Togam (Office of Tomb Establishment), 75, 294n24 the Sanch’ŏn Pibo Togam (Agency for Strengthening Mountains and Rivers), 75, 103, 294n23 Sŏug’wan (Bureau for Recording Clouds), 10, 74, 76, 294n24 grave geomancy: auspicious siting of the grave of Sŏngwagong, 101f6.4 and Chinese Confucian predecessors, 331–331, 336 and commoners’ graves, 84–85, 84, 85, 100–101, 101 criticized by Confucian scholars, 51–53

412

Index

grave geomancy (continued) and filial piety, 48, 52–53, 56, 344–346 and forest conservation around royal graves, 85–87 house geomancy distanced from, 368 importance in Korea, 100–102 and litigation, 51–52, 100–102, 344–346 moving of, 53–54 by former President Kim Dae-jung, 57, 105 Sallŭng Togam (Office of Tomb Establishment), 75, 294n24 and shengqi, 223, 301 for T’aekp’ung Pavilion, 189 by Yun Sŏndo (Kosan), 249n45 Haeckel, Ernst, 253 Hae’in Temple [Haeinsa]: boat-shaped form of, 193–195, 194f9.24, 219n53, 262, 262f11.2 symbolism reflected in its name, 195 tripitaka tablets stored at, 194, 198 haengju-hyŏng (sailing boat) form, 256 of Andong County, 283 cultural ecological links in geomantic landscapes of, 263–273, 264f11.3 of Hae’in Temple, 193–195, 219n53 of Hahoe Village, 172 popularity of, 375 and sottae (bird-shaped wooden carvings), 103, 271–272, 271f11.5 Hahoe Village of Andong City, 220n64 bird’s-eye view of, 261f11.1, 261 layout plan of, 199f9.28 Samsindang tree at, 171–172, 171f9.3 symbols of good fortune, 207, 208f9.36 Hanjang (present-day Seoul): four gates of the castle walls of, 217n33 population during Sejong’s reign, 95n30 Sejong’s concern with its geomantic conditions, 46 settlement groves in, 151 suppression of its auspiciousness, 88 water supply during the Chosŏn, 117– 118, 124 Yi Ik on its physical conditions, 353 Hetushu (Hadosu in Korean), 177, 178f9.9, 212, 218n36

Luoshushu (Naksŏsu in Korean), 177, 178f9.10, 206, 212 hierarchical order: and the boat-shaped form of Hae’in Temple, 194f9.24, 194–195 and Neo-Confucianism, 192–193 in traditional Korean architecture, 200 and geomancy, 8, 192–200 reflected in structural elements, 192– 193, 193f9.23 Hoe’am Temple [Hweam-Sa] (“a treasure bestowed by heaven”), 195–197 layout plan, 197f9.25 surrounding terrain, 196f9.25 Hong, Manson. See Sallim Kyŏngje (Farm Management) Hŏn Tomb (King T’aejong’s tomb), 53, 76 Chŏng Inji’s report on his geomantic fieldwork for, 48–49 horseshoe-shaped places: featured in the Silla-period story of T’alhae, 27–28 Hwandosŏng, 32–33, 33f2.5 Kyoto Basin as, 216n18 man-made hills used to form the shape of, 288 Huangdi Zhaijing (Yellow Emperor’s Class of Houses), 209 Hwandosŏng (Hwando Walled City), 32–33, 33f2.5 Hyŏnmu or Black Warrior (Turtle). See under turtles, 206 Injong (Koryŏ King), 36, 62, 75, 106 Japan: colonial rule: accused of obstructing vital energy with iron bars during, qi, 55–56, 55f2.9 Murayama Chijun’s research on Korean geomancy supported during, 14, 17 place in the history of geomancy, 110 invasion of Korea in 1592, 146 Ji Cheng, 247nn15–16 Jin (Manchu) dynasty, 62, 76, 115, 216n18 Manchurian folklore, 59n19



Index 413

Jizi (Kija): grid pattern land division system of, 359 introduction of Chinese culture to Korea reflected in, 32 migration to Korea, 25, 26–27, 34 Jungian psychology: and Koreans’ pursuit of auspicious sites, 9 meaning of self in, 305–306 and religion, 300–301 and the value of forms, 299 Kim Dukyu, 18 Kim, Hongsik, 215n6 Kim Tongsu [Kim Dong-su] house: floor plan, 187, 187f9.18, 203 pond in the shape of worms, 203–204, 204f9.33 Ko, Yusŏp, 252n66 Koguryŏ: animal symbols representing the four cardinal directions in the tombs of, 26, 29–30ff2.1–2.4, 32 and the introduction of geomancy to Korea, 25 Korean architecture. See architecture Koryŏ dynasty: Buddhism-geomancy interaction during, 321–322 geomantic exam books, 72–73, 106 kings of: founder. See Injong; T’aejo Wang Kŏn Hoe’am Temple [Hweam-Sa] as a residence for, 197 Kongmin, 24, 44–45 limitations to the study of its architecture, 163, 165 Mongol occupation of, 43–44 Kosan Yun Sŏndo. See Yun Sŏndo Kroeber, A. L., and Clyde Kluckhohn, 253, 273n2 kwansanchŏm (best spot for viewing an area from a geomantic perspective): defined, 247n19 Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil as, 239, 241f10.8 Kwirae Pavilion: described in “Kwiraejŏngga” (Song of Kwirae Pavilion), written by Sŏ Kŏjŏng, 225

as a site of geomantic practices, 224 Kyŏngbok Palace: Kŭnjŏngjŏn (or Kŭnjŏng Hall), 166–167, 184 sujaŭnjŏn (or sucha ŭnjŏn, silver coins) found on roof of, 205f9.34 found on, 206 Kyŏnghoe Pavilion in, 181–182, 183f9.15 columns of, 183f9.14 Kyonghoeru Chondo (Complete Diagram of Kyonghoe Pavilion), 181–182, 181f9.12, 217–218n35 and yungnyuk yangjepŏp, 181–182 Kyot’aejŏn (or Kyot’ae Hall), 173, 174f9.5 Sejong’s distrust of, 47 site layout plan, 168f9.1 and the principles of capital planning in the Kaogongji, 166, 216n17 stone statues of Haech’i, 123–125, 124f7.4 water flow in, 167 Kyŏnghoe Pavilion. See under Kyŏngbok Palace Kyonghoeru Chondo (Complete Diagram of Kyonghoe Pavilion), 181–182, 181f9.12, 217–218n35 Kyŏngjabawi (boulder with engraved character Kyŏng), 169, 170f9.2 landforms: back-mountain, front-water landscapes, 120, 122–123, 122f7.3 lack of clear evidence of geomantic harmony of Koguryŏ tombs with, 32 maps of. See geomancy maps (sando) p’ilbong (shape of an ink brush stood upright), 170 See also haengju-hyŏng (sailing boat) form; yŏnhwa pusu-hyŏng (shape of a floating lotus on water) Lee, Mong Il, 55–56 Lee, Song-hae, 216n17 Li Yuan: Pangu, 243–244, 252n64 his seclusion in, 252n64 Lovelock, James, 172, 258 Lü Cai, 333, 336

414

Index

Manchu. See Jin (Manchu) dynasty maps: locations of chosan or “human-built hills” on, 282 old map of Nagan County, 120, 121f7.2 picturesque map of Chinju settlement, 150f8.2 of riparian village grove and other elements at Sach’onni Chomgongmyon Uisonggun, 133f7.10 Taedong Yŏjido [Taejon Yeouido] (Map of the Great Eastern Nation), 108, 109f6.8, 110, 120, 219n51 of the Walled City of Andong, 285f12.7 See also geomancy maps (sando) Master Muhak in the Sillugsa Buddhist Temple, 45, 46f2.7, 47 Master Tosŏn: geomancy in Korea during the time of, 33–34 life of, 37–38 place in the history of Korean geomancy, 24, 39, 110, 313, 318 pibo theory of, 320–321, 323, 327 portrait of, 35f2.6 Tosŏn Pigi attributed to, 37, 77 Tosŏn Pigyŏl, 256, 328n11 Tosŏn Tapsan’gi (Master Tosŏn’s Field Report), 153–154 meot, 252n66 Mikesell, Marvin W., 5, 253 Mongols: occupation of Kŏryo, 43–44 suppression of geomancy, 24, 44, 110 mountains and watercourses: in the geomancy section of the T’aengniji, 360–364, 363t16.1, 367– 368 Kunlun Mountains, 153, 357, 358 Mt. Chiri, 38, 147, 155, 226, 319 Mt. Paektu, 108, 357–358 placement in an idealized geomantic landscape, 107f6.6 sacred Buddhist sites, 324 See also sansu (shanshui in Chinese; “mountains and waters”); water resources

mulhyŏngnon (wuxinglun in Chinese; likening of mountain shapes to animate figures), 230–231 Munwang P’algwae, 191f9.22 and the shape of yards, 212 Mun, Yong’o, 224 Murayama Chijun: Chosen-o Fusui (Geomancy in Korea), discussion of pibo, 276 geomantic landscapes in Korea surveyed and labeled by, sailing-boat landscape included in, 256, 261–262 research on Korean geomancy during Japanese colonial rule, 14, 17 on the T’aengniji, 354 Nae’ap settlement in Andong City, Confucian ideology given to the groves of, 142–143 Naksŏjae (Kosan’s main residence). See under Pogil Island (Pogilto) Nam River Groves. See under settlement groves Nam Sago, 47–48 Needham, Joseph, 13, 293n4 neo-Confucianism: and hierarchy, 192–193, 193f9.23 Kyŏngjabawi (boulder with engraved character Kyŏng), 169, 170f9.2 private Confucian academies. See sŏwan Taiji Tushuo by Zhou Dunyi, 173 Oeam Village, 125, 125f7.5, 126, 126f7.6 Otkol Village, 175, 175ff9.7–9.8 Paeko or White Tiger (ubaekho guarding the right), 217n9, 217n31, 224 as ansan at Sŏn’gyojang in Kangnŭng City, 225 Azure Dragon hill ranges paired with: on the Chinju County part of Haedong Chido, 148 and geomancy aesthetics, 107f6.6, 209, 230 and the geomancy of Naksŏjae, 235 in man-made hills, 128, 270, 286, 288 psychological beauty of, 232



Index 415

and Azure Dragon wings of diguetshaped houses, 187, 187f9.18 and the Chinju geomancy, 148, 152 and environmental elements in the Gaia system, 259 and the framework of Sŏsŏkchi garden, 225 in the Koguryŏ tombs, 29, 31f2.4, 32 naebaekho (inner White tiger to the right), 224 pomegranate as a substitute for, 88 and the site of Hŏn Tomb, 49 and the site of Tosan Sŏwan, 50f2.8 symbolic meaning of, 304 trees as a substitute for, 85 Pak Chega, 52–53 Peach Blossom Land, 232, 249n39 phoenixes (ponghwang, fenghuang in Chinese): flying phoenix (Pibong) geomantic form: of the Chinju settlement, 148–150 Confucian meaning of, 152–156 meaning in the Daikanwa Jiten, 152 meaning in the Shuowen Jiezi, 152–153 “phoenix’s nest” sites, 150 Pongsŏ Pavilion in Tonghwa Temple, 200, 202f9.30, 203, 203f9.31 in Sangbongsudong, 286–287 terrain of Soswaewon, 225 symbolism of, 246n8 pibo or sanch’ŏn piboron (complementary geomancy): and changsŭng (guardian totem poles), 220n60, 227 to compensate for weakness in acquiring water (tŭksu pibo), 119 discussed in Korean and Japanese works on p’ungsu, 276 employed by T’aejo Wang Kŏn, 320–321 and environmental preservation, 233 of Master Tosŏn, 320–321, 323, 327 as a national concern, 294n23 the Sanch’ŏn Pibo Togam, 75, 103, 294n23 on Pogil Island, 227 Seyŏn Pond as, 235–236, 250n50 Tongch’ŏn Soksil, 235, 236

Sanch’ŏn Pibo Togam (Agency for Strengthening Mountains and Rivers), 75, 103, 294n23 and sottae (bird-shaped wooden carvings), 103, 220n60, 271–272, 271f11.5 sugu magi, 131–132 Songmal piborim, 131f7.9, 132 three premises of, 277–279 Won-suk Choi’s study of, 19, 287, 287, 293n9, 294n23, 313–328passim pibo or sanch’ŏn piboron (complementary geomancy), man-made hills: chosan (created hills), on Puyongdong, 227, 235 earth mounds on either side of the entrance to a village in Kŭmsan County, 280f12.3, 281f12.4 enhanced by planting pines on it, 281f12.5, 289 kasan, 103, 282 located in the Walled City of Andong, 282–286, 284f12.6 pagoda-type stone piles, 279, 279f12.1, 280f12.2, 287, 288–289 used to form the shape of horseshoeshaped places, 288 pillars: and columns, 164–165 hierarchy defined by, 192–193 of Kyŏnghoe Pavilion, 183f9.14 sanggidung (“high column”) of houses, 184 turtle-shaped column footing, 208f9.37 and wuxing, 177, 179–181 cosmic symbolism of, 172 installation of, 206 mast or pillars for sailing-boat settlements, stone pillar at Sŏndolbaegi, 270 tanggan chiju (dhvaja-stambha), 198 Pogil Island (Pogilto): chosan (created hill) on, 227, 235 compared with Li Yuan’s Pangu, 252n64 complementary geomantic constructions on, 227 geomantic configuration of geographical features of, 234–235, 234f10.2

416

Index

Pogil Island (Pogilto) (continued) Kyŏkcha Peak on, 227 Naksŏjae (Kosan’s main residence on): chosan in front of, 227, 235 placement of, 227, 235, 236, 236f10.3, 237, 238 Pogiltoji written by Yun Wi, 224, 249– 250n46, 251n52, 251n56 Puyongdong on: geomancy of, 237–239, 238f10.5 Kosan’s creation of, 224 naming of, 234–235, 236 perception structure of between points in its wollim, 236f10.3 and Pogil Island’s sansu, 237, 239 Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil as the kwansanchŏm of, 239, 241f10.8 Seyŏn Pavilion: performances at, 239–242, 251n56 size and shape of, 251n57 visual composition of, 240, 241f10.9 Seyŏn Pond garden on, 224, 227, 235– 236, 236f10.3, 374–375 as a pibo, 235–236, 250n50 and the experience of motion, 251n54 Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil on, 235, 236, 236f10.3, 238 domain overseen from, 240f10.6 as Puyongdong’s kwansanchŏm, 239, 241f10.8 visual condition of, 240f10.7 yŏnjŏng (small pavilion) on, 235 Zhu Xi’s Yungu compared with, 243 ponghwang. See phoenixes post-liberation practice of geomancy, 25, 56–57, 110 present day practice of geomancy, 57–58 and former President Kim Dae-jung, 57, 105 prophecies. See fortune-telling and prophecies p’unggi (wind energy), 364–366 use as a term by modern scholars: its absence from T’aengniji manuscripts, 365–366 p’unggi milchip (concentration of energy [of a place]), 365

p’unggsu chiri (geomancy), as a term, 10–12 Puyongdong. See under Pogil Island (Pogilto) qi: chigi (qi of earth), 245n4 fluctuation of, 98, 106 and fundamental ideas of geomancy, 337–338 and landscape surrounding a wollim, 222–223 shengqi (saenggi in Korean; vital energy): basic premise of, 115–116, 277 control of, 247n14 of dense groves, 141, 154, 158 and the determination of auspicious places, 304 and grave geomancy, 30, 223 Japanese accused of obstructing it by iron bars, 55–56, 55f2.9 location of, 254 tianren tonggou (“heaven and humanity share the same nature”), 145 See also p’unggi; sugi (water energy); yin and yang Red Bird. See Chujak or Red Bird relational aesthetics: geomantic aesthetics defined in terms of, 251–252n59 and Kosan Yun Sŏndo’s wollim, 242 roosters. See under chickens sagachŏng’won (private gardens): individual gardens. See Sŏsŏkchi; Soswaewon; Unjo Pavilion wollim (gardens in mountains) distinguished from, 245n2 sailing boat form. See haengju-hyŏng Sallim Kyŏngje (Farm Management) by Hong Manson, 220n69 Chŭngbo Sallim Kyŏngje (Revised and Enlarged Farm Management), T’aengniji reproduced as a chapter in, 354 house geomancy, discussion on house plants, 88 p’unggi used as a term in, 364–365



Index 417

Samguk Sagi (History of the Three Kingdoms), 32 Samguk Yusa: sacred locations with Buddhist spirits listed in, 325, 325t14.3 story of T’alhae, 27–28, 58n11 sanch’ŏn piboron (strengthening mountains and rivers). See pibo sanch’ŏn piboron (strengthening mountains and rivers), 98 sando. See geomancy maps sansu (shanshui in Chinese; “mountains and waters”): schematic structure of, 237f10.4 of Tosan Sŏdang according to T’oegye, 184–185 and the wollim in Puyongdong on Pogil Island, 239 sansu hoep’o (returning mountains and embracing water), 356 Sauer, Carl O., 290 Sejong (fourth kind of Chosŏn), 45, 74 and geomancy, 46–47, 331, 337 and the harmony of royal graves, 86–87 and tree planting, 83 rain gauge invented by, 118 tomb site of, 48–49, 53–54 Seoul. See Hanjang settlement groves: as a symbolic landscape of the values of Confucianism, 145–147 Nam River Groves, semiotic understanding of, 157–158 semiotic understanding of: and Confucian ideology, 141 and geomantic ideology, 140–141 and the grove at the Nam River of Chinju City, 157–158 vital energy of dense groves, 141, 154, 158 Seyŏn Pond. See under Pogil Island (Pogilto) shengqi (saenggi in Korean; vital energy). See under qi and Confucian values, 144 Silla Period: and geomantic spatial ideology, 319–320

introduction of Zen Buddhism to Korea, 317–318 King T’alhae’s story, 27–29, 58n11 King Wonsong’s tomb (789) at the Kok Temple site, 26, 33, 33, 40–41, 316– 317, 328n5 royal tomb of Silla general Kim Yusin, 100f6.2 Unified Silla Period, Buddhist temple built on geomantically auspicious sites during, 33 Sima Guang (Song dynasty Confucian historian), 332, 333, 337, 347n5 Sinjŭng Tongguk Yŏji Sungnam (Newly Revised Edition of the Augmented Survey of the Geography of Korea), 160n25 sinsŏn (shenxian in Chinese; Daoist immortals): Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil viewed as the land of, 235 See also Master Tosŏn Sirhak School. See under Confucianism Sŏ Kŏjong, 349n22 “Kwiraejŏngga” (Song of Kwirae Pavilion), written by, 225 on moving ancestor’s graves, 53 Sŏ Yugu: Imwon Kyŏngjeji, 222 T’aengniji quoted in, 354–355 on using timber upside down, 206 social discontent manipulated by geomantic ideas and prophecies: the Myoch’ŏng rebellion, 61–63, 105, 106 the Tonghak Peasants’ Movement, 64–68, 105 Sŏnam Temple, geomancy of the mountain range of, 246n13 Sŏngji, 47 Sŏngjong (Chosŏn king), 86, 322 Sŏn’gyojang in Kangnŭng City, 225 Sŏng Yŏsin, compilation of the Chinyangji (Local Gazetteer of Chinju), 147, 155, 160n21 Sŏsŏkchi, 224, 225 Sosu Sŏwon (“a place for resuscitating and honing abandoned studies”), 169–170, 170f9.2

418

Index

Soswaewon: Chŏng Ch’ŏl’s “Soswaewon Chech’ojong” (Naming the Grassroofed Pavilion at Soswaewon), 246n8 geomantic aesthetics of, 224, 225 sŏwan (shuyuan in Chinese; private Confucian academies): locations of, 169 See also Sosu Sŏwon; Tosan Sŏwan sugi (water energy): and sanjung in geomancy sections of manuscripts, 367 and sansujigi (energy of the landscape), 371n60 in the T’aengniji (Book of Choosing Settlements), 364, 365–366, 366t16.2, 368, 371n59 Sullivan, Michael, 248n28 Sungbok Temple, inscription on the stele of, 33, 40–41, 316–317, 328n5 supernatural powers: of Daoist immortals. See sinsŏn of holy Buddhist spirits, 324–325 Samguk Yusa listings of sites associated with, 325, 325t14.3 in sacred mountains and rivers (yŏngji kwannyŏm), 324–325 table mountain. See ansan t’aegŭk (or taiji in Chinese): in the center of a yundo (compass), 174f9.6, 175, 177 chimney engraved with, 212, 2139.43 and Fuxi Liushisigua Cixutu, 182, 183f9.15 and Otkol Village, 175, 175f9.8 as the symbol of yin and yang, 173 T’aejo, first king of the Chosŏn. See Yi Sŏnggye T’aejo Wang Kŏn (first king of the Koryŏ): faith in both geomancy and Buddhism, 41–43, 320–321 Ten Injunctions, 34, 39 on the downfall of the Silla, 33, 41, 58n17 and Master Tosŏn, 103 T’aengniji (Book of Choosing Settlements): Confucian scholars’ reliance on, 354, 364–365, 375

features in “geomancy” in, 366t16.2, 367 Kwangmunhoe edition of, 355–356, 369n15 manuscripts, different titles of, 355, 369n14 Murayama Chijun’s evaluation of, 354 on shengqi (vital energy), 145 as a source of original Korean ideas of geomancy, 369n9, 375 on sugi (water energy), 364, 365–366, 366t16.2, 368, 371n59 Yi Chung-hwan’s writing of, 354, 361 T’aengniji (Book of Choosing Settlements), four parts of: “Discourse on the Eight Provinces,” 355, 356 “Discourse on the Selection of Livable Places” (Pokkŏ), 221, 355–356, 356, 360–361 “Geomancy” section of, 357–360, 367 “The Four Classes of People,” 355 T’aengniji (Book of Choosing Settlements), Pakchongji (Book of Diverse Collections; Jangseogak Kwi): copy date of, 357 discussion of terrain, 365 P’aryokchi, (Book of Eight Districts) printed edition of, 355, 367, 371n60 tigers: geomantic landscape types featuring: Maengho Suyu-hyŏng (A tiger nursing a cub), 257 Pokho-hyŏng (reclining tiger), 258 tigers. White Tiger See Paeko Tongch’ŏn Sŏksil. See under Pogil Island (Pogilto) Tonghak (Eastern Learning): geomantic proverbial saying, “A great person is born by drawing the energy from the land,” 65, 66f3.1 and the idea of equality among all humanity, 66–67 “man is heaven” (innaech’ŏn) doctrine of, 65 Tonghak Peasants’ Movement, 61, 64–68, 105 Tonghwasa temple: Pongsŏ Pavilion, 202–203, 202f9.3 Pongsŏ-ru in, 202–203, 202f9.3



Index 419

Tosan Sŏwan (Confucian Academy of Andong): auspicious geomantic site of, 50, 50f2.8, 184 T’oegye’s establishment of, 184, 185 Tosŏn. See Master Tosŏn turtles and tortoises: divination by the shell of, 331 on door handles, 207, 209f9.38 Hyŏnmu or Black Warrior (Turtle), 128, 217n31 almond and bullace trees as a substitute for, 88 in the Koguryŏ tombs, 29, 31f2.3, 32 symbolism of, 206–207, 304 rear and north associated with, 179,  207, 217n9, 304 longevity symbolized by, 206 Pyŏlchubujŏn (Tale of a Tortoise), 179, 180f9.11, 217n30 turtle-shaped column footing, 208f9.37 Tylor, Edward B., 253 ubaekho. See Paeko or White Tiger Unjo Pavilion (Yun Chŭng’s mansion in Nonsan), 226 villages: back-mountain, front-water landscapes, 120, 122–123, 122f7.3 changsŭng (guardian totem poles), 198, 220n60, 227 map of riparian village grove and other elements at Sach’onni Chomgongmyon Uisonggun, 133f7.10 Oeam Village, 125, 125f7.5, 126, 126f7.6 old map of Nagan County, 120, 121f7.2 Otkol Village, 175, 175ff9.7–9.8 stone pile at the entrance to Orongi village, 287 Yangdong Village in Kyongju, 198–199, 199f9.27 visual beauty: as an aesthetic activity of the mind, 233 and ch’agyong (jiejing in Chinese; meaning “borrowing the scenery”), 209 and the experience of motion, 151n54

vital energy shengqi (saenggi in Korean). See under qi water resources: and the adoption of fengshui in Korean society, 119 ditch system in Oeam village, 125, 126, 126f7.6 during the Chosŏn, 111, 117–118 and meandering water flows, 119–120, 127–128, 134, 303 recycling of, 134, 135f7.11 retaining the wind and acquiring water (changp’ung tuksu), 122, 222 standing water, 127 and traditional village ponds, 128–130, 129f7.8, 134 tŭksu pibo to compensate for weakness in acquiring water, 119, 247n17 Zhangshu on, 303 See also mountains and watercourses Wau-hyŏng (reclining cow or ox). See cows White Tiger. See Paeko wollim (yuanlin in Chinese; gardens in mountains): distinguished from sagachŏng’won (private gardens), 245n2 Ji Cheng on the creation of, 247nn15–16 relational aesthetics of Kosan’s wollim on Pogil Island, 242 as a venue for communicating with nature, 8, 222 See also Pogil Island (Pogilto) worms: Chambdu hyŏng (head of a silkworm), 256 Innyhong-hyŏng (earthworm-dragon), 256 worm-shaped lakes, 203–204, 204f9.33 wuxing (ohaeng in Korean; “five phases”), 177, 217n27, 217n32 and the erection of columns, 177, 179–181 Yangdong Village in Kyongju, 198–199, 199f9.27 Yang, Junsong [or Yang Yu], Hanlongjing (Classic of Rousing Dragons), 73, 350n45, 358

420

Index

Yang Sanbo, 246n8 Yi Chung-hwan, life of, 361 Book of Choosing Settlements written by. See T’aengniji Yi Hangbok, 256, 343 Yi, Ik, 365 grave geomancy criticized by, 52 Sŏngho Sasŏl: geomantic perspectives on the physical environment revealed in, 353 practice of geomancy criticized in, 51 p’unggi used as a term in., 365 T’aengniji praised in, 354 Yi, Pyŏngdo, 25 summary of requirements for an auspicious landscape, 365 Yi, Sik, 189 Yi Sŏnggye (T’aejo, first king of the Chosŏn), 14 Konwonnŭng tomb of, 100f6.3A, 100f6.3B and the legend of Chŏnghwa Tomb, 39 Seoul selected as a geomantically auspicious site by, 45–46, 116–117 Yijing (Classic of Changes), 217n27 five-elements theory (wujing), in, 191f9.22, 191 and house building, 180–181 Kyŏnghoe Pavilion in Kyŏngbobk Palace, 181–182, 183f9.15 T’aekp’ung Pavilion, 188–190, 190f9.21 and neo-Confucian concepts of Xiantian and Houtian, 185 sich’ojŏm (shicaozhan in Chinese; fortune-telling), 189, 219n46 symbols of: and geomantic viewpoints, 185 and the Hetushu (Hadosu in Korean), 218n36 and the implementation of geomantic theories, 212 p’algwae (bagua in Chinese; eight major symbols), 173, 173f9.4, 191f9.22, 212, 213f9.43 T’aekp’ŭngdaewa (or T’aekp’ŭng Taegwa), 189–190, 189f9.0

worldview that “heaven and humanity share the same nature (tianren tonggou)” of, 144–145 yin and yang, 217n27 and the act of Kyot’ae, 173 and Korean architectural logic, 214 Kyot’aejŏn in Kyŏngbok Palace, 173 shengqi as the origin of, 115–116 and the symbol of t’aegŭk (or taiji in Chinese), 173 yang (positive qi): dynamic streams as, 231 yangdong, 173 yin (negative qi): chosan (created hill to complement negative qi), 235 pibo sup (grove created to complement negative qi), 233 static mountains and land as, 231 and ŭmjŏng, 173 See also t’aegŭk yŏnhwa pusu-hyŏng (shape of a floating lotus on water), 253, 260 Hahoe Village construed as, 261f11.1 Pogil Island’s geomantic configuration, 234–235, 234f10.2, 250n47 Yu Han’u, 117 Yu Kŭm, 117–118 Yulgok Yi I, 248n37 yundo (compass), 99f6.1A, 99f6.1B centrality of the universe determined by, 175, 214 t’aegŭk in the center of, 174f9.6, 175, 177 Yun Sŏndo (Kosan): “Changjaedo” (Changjae Islet), 242–243, 252n62 creation of Puyongdong on Pogil Island, 224 expertise of, 249n45, 250–251n51 “Hwang’won Chabyong Samsu” (Poem 3, Assorted Poems of the Yellow Field), 243 Kyŏkcha Peak on Pogil Island climbed by, 227 Ŏbusasisa (A Fisherman’s Poem of the Four Seasons), 242, 252n60 Seyŏn Pond garden constructed by, 227



Index 421

Yun Wi, Pogiltoji, 224, 249–250n46, 251n52, 251n56 Zhu Xi: and Confucian notions of heaven and humanity (nature-society), 144 geomancy embraced by, 332 Fengshui Bianzhengshuo (Investigation of Geomancy), 342

seven principles outlined, 348n13 Shanling Yizhuang (Discourse on Imperial Tombs), 48, 335, 343, 350n37, 353 Zhuzi Daquan, 350n37, 353 neo-Confucian “doctrine of the mean” (zhongyong), 334 Pogil Island compared with Yungu home of, 243–244