Читать книгу Fifteen Years Among the Top-Knots; Or, Life in Korea - Lillias H. Underwood - Страница 5

Table of Contents

First Arrival—First Impressions—The City of Seoul—Korean Houses—Mission Homes—Personnel of Mission in 1888—Beginnings of Work—Difficulties in Attaining the Language—Korean Religions—Palace Women—First Interview with Palace Women—Entertainment Given in my Honor by President of Foreign Office—The Interdict—Confidence Exhibited by Government in Protestant Missionaries—The “Baby Riots”—Babies Reported to have been Eaten at Foreign Legations—Restoring Confidence—The Signal—First Invitation to Palace.

I landed in Korea at the port of Chemulpo on a cloudy, windy March day, in 1888. My eyes fell on a rocky shore, back of which the bare sharp outline of low hills, whitened with patches of snow, was relieved by no trees to break the monotony of the scene. Dreary mud flats, instead of a sandy beach, lay reeking and slimy along the water’s edge. As our boat neared the shore, for there was and is no pier, and ships even at high tide cannot approach very near, wild and strange-looking men, uttering wild and strange-sounding speech, came hurrying down the hill to inspect us.

Their coarse black hair was long and dishevelled, in some instances braided in a single pigtail, in most cases, however, tied on top of the head, where a careless attempt at a top-knot had been made, but elf-locks straying round the neck and face gave a wolfish and unkempt appearance. They were Mongolians with all the race features, not differing much from Chinese or Japanese except in dress, and being in the main rather taller than the latter people. Their garments appeared to consist of a short loose jacket and long baggy trousers, of a dirty white native cloth. These garments among the poorer classes are never changed oftener than twice in a month.

These were the people among whom I had come to work—this the country which I had chosen instead of the “groves and templed hills” of my own dear native land. My heart swelled, and lifted up an earnest prayer that it might not be in vain.

In justice to the Koreans, however, I ought to say here, that the people whom I saw that morning were of the lowest and roughest class, their dress the poorest sort, and that Chemulpo, especially in March, is perhaps the most forbidding and unsightly place in Korea. Being the main port for the capital, it is made up, as ports often are, very largely of a mixture of various nationalities. Many sailors and traders, and especially Chinese and Japanese merchants, have built their poor houses and shops in the main town.

The trip from Chemulpo to Seoul, about twenty-eight miles, was made the following day, in a Sedan-chair carried by four coolies. The road, although a much traveled one, was very bad, but is now replaced by a railroad which accomplishes the distance in about two hours and a half. The country I found pleasantly rolling—comparatively few trees were seen, and the population thereabout seemed quite sparse. Here and there were squalid mud huts thatched with straw. I found on inquiry that this little land, lying west of Japan, attached at its northern extremity to China and Siberia, has an area of about ninety thousand square miles and a population of over fourteen millions of people, with a climate varying from that in the north, like northern New York, to that in the extreme south, like southern Virginia.

We approached Seoul about four o’clock in the afternoon, and I was thrilled at the sight of the first walled town I had ever beheld. The walls are very picturesque—built of great blocks of stone—hung with ivy, and give an impression of great age.

At the time of my arrival, and for some few years after, a very interesting custom was in vogue with regard to the closing of these gates. Korea had for centuries a signal fire service, by which news of peace or war was with telegraphic rapidity conveyed to Seoul, and by number, frequency of repetition and other expedients a tolerably useful code had been established. On the south mountain, within the walls, were four beacons, one for each point of the compass, to which these lines converged. Every evening as soon as the sun had set, when the bright glow of these four beacon fires published the fact that all was well in his majesty’s dominions, four officials, whose business it was to report to the king the message of the fires, presented themselves at the palace, and with low obeisance, each announced that all was well in the north—in the south—the east—and the west. On this, the palace band struck up its gayest airs, and when this music was heard, the signal was given for the tolling of the great curfew bell in the center of the city. When the extremely sweet and solemn, low and yet penetrating tones of this bell were heard, the ponderous gates were swung to and barred, not to be reopened till the ringing of the same bell at the first streak of dawn gave the signal to the keepers.

Entering through these gates, fortunately not yet closed, we saw narrow, filthy streets, flanked by low mud houses, either thatched with straw, or tiled. It has been aptly said that the city looks like a vast bed of mushrooms, since none of the Korean houses are built more than one story high.

The common people are very poor and their homes seem to an American wretchedly poor and comfortless, and yet, compared with the most destitute of London or New York, there are few who go cold or hungry in Seoul. Each dwelling is so arranged that the part of the house occupied by the women, which is called the anpang, or inner room, shall be screened from sight from the street and from those entering the gate—for every house has at least a tiny courtyard, part of which is also screened off (either by another wall, or by mats, or trees and bushes) for the women’s use.

Many of the homes of the poor consist of but one room, with a sort of outer shed, which is used as kitchen. Such a place often has no window, or at most only a tiny one, and both window and door are covered with white paper instead of glass. These doors are usually very low and narrow, so that even a small woman must stoop to enter, and within it is not always possible to stand upright except in the center, where the roof is highest. These small rooms are easily heated by means of a system of flues built under the floor, which consists of stone and mud. A fire of brush and twigs is kindled under one side of the house, and as the chimney opens at the other side, the draft naturally carries smoke and heat through the flues, the floor becomes very hot, and the whole room is quickly warmed. The fireplace is built in with pots for boiling the rice—so that a great advantage is obtained in the matter of economy, the one fire booth cooks and warms. Wherever it can be afforded, a sarang, or men’s sitting room, which opens directly on the street or road, or upon the men’s court, is part of the establishment. Here any man may enter; male guests are entertained, and fed, and here they sleep. No men not members of the family or relatives ever enter the anpang.

It is needless to say that everything in connection with these houses is fearfully unsanitary, and many of them are filthy and full of vermin. All sewage flows out into the unspeakable ditches on either side of the street. Of late years efforts have been made to alter this state of things, better streets have been laid, and the open sewers, which have existed for many years, are sluiced out by the summer rains, which are the salvation of the city.

It was a great and delightful surprise when suddenly, entering a gate in a mud wall, we left behind us these dirty streets and saw around us a lovely lawn, flower beds, bushes and trees, and a pretty picturesque mission home. It was like magic. I found our mission in possession of native houses which had been occupied in past years by wealthy but now ruined or banished noblemen. They had been purchased at a ridiculously low price in a condition of dilapidation, repaired at little expense and the interiors more or less Europeanized. The one which I entered had, with great good taste, been left without other ceiling than its quaint and massive beams and rafters of blackened wood, the walls were prettily papered, and rugs and comfortable furniture and a few pictures and ornaments gave a homelike air. The rooms were spacious, and having been the dwelling of the rich, they were not so low or dark as those I have just described.

Our mission, which at that time had been established about four years, was high in favor with the government. Dr. Allen first, and later Dr. Heron, were the official physicians to the king, who had established a government hospital, over which he had placed them in charge. Miss Ellers, lately married, had been appointed medical adviser to the queen and had been placed in charge of the women’s department of the hospital, both of which positions she had resigned after her marriage, and to both of which I had been appointed to succeed. The members of the mission whom I found were Dr. and Mrs. Heron, Rev. H. G. Underwood and Mrs. Bunker (formerly Miss Ellers). Dr. and Mrs. Allen had returned to America on an official mission.

Work had been well started, the hospital was daily crowded with patients, in addition to which Dr. Heron had a large foreign and native practice, as well as a hospital school for the instruction of future drug clerks and medical students. Mr. Underwood had established an orphan boys’ home and school, had assisted Dr. Allen in his clinics till the arrival of Dr. Heron, and was at that time, in addition to the entire care of the orphanage, teaching in the government hospital school, which it was hoped might be the stepping stone to a medical school. He was holding regular religious services, and about thirty had been baptized. He had made a long trip into the interior, up to the northern borders, selling tracts and preaching everywhere. Language helps were in preparation, and the Gospel of Mark in a tentative form had been translated. Miss Ellers was in charge of women’s medical work up to my arrival, and was high in favor with the queen, who had bestowed rank upon her, and many costly presents. She had also begun to work and train the first member of the girls’ school.

I found that help was much needed on all sides. The day after my arrival saw me installed at the hospital with an interpreter at my side. Here work usually lasted about three hours. My home was with Dr. and Mrs. Heron, who with warmest kindness had fitted up a sunny room for me. Here Dr. Heron and I had a joint dispensary, and here I was besieged at all hours by women desiring medical attention. I soon found that language study was continually interrupted very seriously by these applicants, who respected not times or seasons. I was of course called upon to visit patients in their homes, one of whom, the wife of the Chinese minister of state, Prince Uan (now a very prominent personage in Chinese matters), must be seen every day with an amount of ceremony which took not a little of my precious time. However, finding that others were being overworked, I consented to give two hours each day to teaching the little orphans arithmetic and English.

Of course we made slow progress, and floundered not a little when the teacher knew no Korean, and the pupils no English. This institution had the unqualified favor of the king, and except the hospital was the first institution in Korea which illustrated the loving-kindness of the Lord. We hoped it might become a successful school, where souls might be saved, ere they had been steeped for years in vice, and the first steps taken in the preparation of evangelists and preachers. Our duty and chief desire was of course to acquire the language, but this was much interrupted by this other work. As we stood there, such a little company among these dying millions, we could not realize that hours of preparation then meant doubled usefulness in years to come, and so time and energy, that should have been spent mainly in study, were poured out in hospital, dispensary and schools.

The new missionaries of these later days are put in a language incubator as soon as they arrive and kept there till they emerge full-fledged linguists, who have passed three searching examinations by the language committee of the missions. Then we sat down with an English-Chinese dictionary (most scholarly Koreans know a little Chinese), a Korean-French dictionary, a French grammar and a Korean reader with a small English primer on Korean, the Gospel of Mark and a Korean catechism for text books. We were presented to a Korean gentleman knowing not one syllable of English, or the first principles of the constructions of any language on earth, or even the parts of speech, and without the glimmering of an idea as to the best methods or any method of teaching, who yet was called, probably ironically, “a teacher,” from whom we were expected to pump with all diligence such information on the language as he was able to bestow. With scanty knowledge of French, more than rusty from long disuse, I labored and floundered, trying now this plan, now that, with continual interruptions and discouragements.

Before I could more than stammer a few sentences I was called upon to begin religious teaching, so undertook a Sunday school service with the little boys, using a catechism which I could not yet translate, but (knowing the sounds) could hear the boys recite. Soon after I began holding a Bible class with a few women, with the aid of a little native boy who had learned English and a former sorceress who could read the Chinese Scriptures. This woman would read the chapter, we all united in the Lord’s prayer and in singing the few hymns then translated, and I talked to the women through the medium of my little interpreter. I struggled and stumbled. The women were patient and polite, but to our Father it must have looked the spoiled tangled patchwork of the child who wished to help, with ignorant, untaught hands, and made a loving botch of it all.

Perhaps right here a few words about the Korean religions may be in place. Confucianism, Buddhism and Taouism all hold a sort of sway over the natives, and yet all have lost, to a great extent, the influence they once had. The majority have very little faith in any religion. Confucianism, otherwise a mere philosophical system of morals, has the strongest hold upon the people in the laws it enjoins for ancestor worship. This custom, enforced by the strongest and most widespread superstitions in the minds of the Koreans, binds them with fetters stronger than iron. If ancestors are not worshiped with most punctilious regard to every smallest detail of the law, dire calamities will befall, from the wrath of irate and neglected spirits. The servitude thus compelled is hard and wearisome, but not one jot or tittle must be omitted, and woe to the wretch who, embracing another doctrine, fails to perform these rites. He or she is looked upon as more than a traitor to home and friends, false to the most sacred obligations. Buddhism has fallen low, until very lately its priests were forbidden to enter the capital, and they rank next to the slayer of cattle, the lowest in the land.

A few Buddhist temples are maintained at government expense or by endowment, and women and children, and all the more ignorant, still worship and believe, to some extent. The same classes also worship and fear an infinite number of all sorts of evil deities—gods or demons, who infest earth, air and sea, gods of various diseases, and all trades; these in common with Satan himself must be propitiated with prayers and sacrifices, beating of drums, ringing of bells and other ceremonials too numerous to mention.

Over all other objects of worship, they believe, is the great Heavens, the personification of the visible heavens, who, as nearly as I can discover, is identical with the Baal referred to in the Old Testament; but everywhere their faith waxes more and more feeble in these old worn-out superstitions. In many cases only respect for ancient customs and public opinion keeps them even in appearance to the outward forms of worship. They are as sheep without a shepherd, lost in the wilderness, “faint and hungry, and ready to die,” and so when the gospel comes, it finds many weary souls, ready to take Christ’s yoke upon them and find his rest.

And yet how hopeless looked the task we had before us in those days, a little company of scarce a dozen people, including our Methodist brethren, many of us able to stammer only a few words of the language as yet, attempting to introduce Christianity into a nation of fourteen or more millions of people, in the place of their long established religions; and beginning with a few poor farmers and old women. But the elements of success, the certainty of victory, lay in the divine nature of the religion, and in the Almighty God who sent us with it. This knowledge inspired us and this alone.

A few days after my arrival in Seoul a messenger came from the queen, to bid me welcome, and inquire if I had had a pleasant journey, and shortly after Mrs. Heron asked some of the queen’s attendants to meet me at luncheon. These women are not, as in other courts, ladies of high rank, for such could never, under Korean customs, endure the publicity of the palace, but are taken as children and young girls from the middle and lower classes, and entirely separated from all others, to the service of their majesties. They usually hold no rank, and are treated with respect, only on account of their relations to the royal family. They wear on all state occasions immense quantities of false hair, which gives them a peculiarly grotesque appearance; are much powdered and perfumed, with pencilled and shaven eyebrows; wear long flowing silken robes, gilded ornaments in their hair and at their waists; and present the sad spectacle of women whose very decorations seem only to add to and emphasize their painful uncomeliness.