Читать книгу Fifteen Years Among the Top-Knots; Or, Life in Korea - Lillias H. Underwood - Страница 7

Table of Contents

The Palaces—The Stone Dogs—The Fire God’s Defeat—The Summer Pleasure House—Royal Reception Hall—Court Dress of Noblemen—First Impression of the King—Appearance of the Queen—The Queen’s Troubles—The Queen’s Coup d’état—The Verb Endings—The Queen’s Generosity—Stone Fight—Gifts—The Quaga—Poukhan—Its Impregnability—Picturesque Surroundings of Seoul—Pioneer Work—Progress of Work—The Queen’s Wedding Gift—Our Wedding—Opposition to my Going to the Interior—My Chair—The Chair Coolies.

The palaces, of which there were at that time three, and are now four, within the city walls, consist of several groups of one-story bungalow buildings, within large grounds or parks, which are surrounded by fine stone walls, twelve or fifteen feet high, of considerable thickness. Within these in closures were barracks for soldiers, and quarters for under-officials and servants. A special group of houses stood separated from the others for women’s apartments, and here might be seen the aged and rather infirm dowager queen, who died about a year after my arrival. The main gates in the walls of the palace I was about to visit are three, facing on the great main thoroughfare of the city. The central one, larger than the others, was used only for royalty; even ministers of foreign states are expected to enter by one of the two smaller ones on either side.

The fact that on one occasion the central gate had by special royal order been thrown open for the American minister is an illustration of the kindness and favor always shown to our representatives. These entrances are approached by broad, stone steps and a platform with handsome, carved stone balustrade, which is surmounted as well as the lofty gates by crudely chiseled stone images of various mythological animals. Some ten or more paces in front of these steps, and on either side, are the great stone dogs, so called for want of a better name, for they no more resemble dogs than lions. The story of their origin is as follows: The fire god, it was said, had a special enmity against this palace, and repeatedly burned it down; various efforts had been made to propitiate or intimidate him with little success; at length an expensive dragon was brought from China and placed in a moat in the grounds. While he lived all was well, but one ill-fated day an enemy poisoned this faithful guardian, and that night the palace was again burned. Finally some fertile brain devised these animals, no poison could affect their stony digestion, no fear or cajoling could impress their hard hearts; so there they stand on their tall pedestals—fierce and uncompromising, facing the quarter whence the fire god comes, always on guard, never sleeping in their faithful watch, and, as might be expected, he has never been able to burn the buildings thus protected.

KOREAN STONE DOG IN FRONT OF PALACE GATES. PAGE 21

I was conducted, however, through neither of these three main gates, but as a very strict rule was then in existence that no chair coolies should be allowed within the palace walls, my chair was carried to a small gate, much nearer the royal apartments, so that we should not be obliged to walk so far. Mrs. Bunker and Dr. Heron accompanied me, and we were met by gentlemanly Korean officials, and taken to a little waiting room, furnished with European chairs, and a table, upon which were little cakes, cigars and champagne, all of which were offered to us ladies, though after a better acquaintance with us, tea was substituted in place of the tobacco and wine. It would take far too long to describe all that engaged my eager interest as we walked through the palace grounds. A beautiful and interesting summer pleasure house—perhaps one of the most unique and remarkable in the world—stands in the center of a large lotus pond. It has an upper story and roof supported on forty-eight monoliths, the outer row being about four feet square at the base; the inner columns are rounded, of about the same diameter, and sixteen or eighteen feet high; the upper story is of wood, elaborately carved, and brightly decorated; most of these buildings are covered with a beautiful green glazed tile, peculiar to royal edifices.

There were many other interesting buildings, among which the royal reception hall was probably the finest. We saw a great number of officials, eunuchs, chusas, noblemen and soldiers, each kind and grade wearing a different attire from all the others.

The dress of the common soldiers was intended to be an imitation of European military costume adapted to the ideas of the Koreans. The result was a hybrid which had neither the dignity nor the usefulness of the one or the other. It consisted of a loose blouse jacket, and badly fitting, baggy trousers, made of thin black cotton cloth, with scarlet trimmings. The jacket was belted in, and a black felt hat surmounted the top-knot, and was fastened insecurely beneath the chin by a narrow band. This unbecoming uniform has now been changed, and the Emperor’s soldiers are as well dressed as those of any European nation.

Korean noblemen when in attendance at the palace wear a dark blue coat, with a belt which is far too large and forms a sort of hoop in front of the person. An embroidered breastplate is worn over the chest, representing a stork for civil office and a tiger for military rank. The head-dress is a kind of hat woven of horsehair, with wings at either side, curved forward, as it were in order to catch every word uttered by royalty. Nobles and officials wear on the hat band, just back of the ears, buttons of various styles made of gold or jade, which indicate the degree of the wearer’s rank.

When the royal family were ready to see us, Mrs. Bunker and I were conducted through the grounds a short distance, passed through several gateways, and at length stood at the entrance of an anteroom half filled with nobles, eunuchs and palace women, beyond which, in a very small inner room, were the king and queen, and their son, a youth about sixteen years of age. We passed forward to the audience-room, bowing frequently and very low to the smiling party of three who awaited us.

Never before had I, an American—a descendant of colonial ancestors who had cast off the shackles of tyranny—bowed so low. Never had I thought to feel as I felt when first entering the presence of a real live king and queen. The royal family had most graciously risen to greet us, and at once invited us to be seated. At that time, at least, Korean nobles never entered the royal presence without prostrating themselves to the ground, and such a piece of presumption as sitting was never dreamed of; so we refused the offered chairs, having been especially warned that not to do so might awaken jealousy and make enemies to the cause of Christianity. The point, however, was insisted upon to such an extent that we could no longer with politeness refuse, and so we found ourselves sitting face to face in a chatty sort of way, in a little eight by ten room, with the king and queen of Korea. The king impressed me at that and every subsequent meeting as a fine-looking genial gentleman. He was attired in a long touramachi, or coat of rich red silk (the royal color), with a cap or head-dress like those worn by the noblemen, except that the wings turned back rather than forward like theirs.

The queen, of course, excited my deepest interest. Slightly pale and quite thin, with somewhat sharp features and brilliant piercing eyes, she did not strike me at first sight as being beautiful, but no one could help reading force, intellect and strength of character in that face, and as she became engaged in conversation, vivacity, naïveté, wit, all brightened her countenance, and gave it a wonderful charm, far greater than mere physical beauty; and I have seen the queen of Korea when she looked positively beautiful.

She possessed mental qualities of a high order, as I soon learned, and although, like all Asiatics, her learning consisted chiefly in the Chinese classics, she possessed a very intelligent idea of the great nations of the world and their governments, for she asked many questions, and remembered what she heard. She was a subtle and able diplomatist and usually outwitted her keenest opponents; she was, moreover, a sovereign of broad and progressive policy, patriotic, and devoted to the best interests of her country and sought the good of the people to a much larger extent than would be expected of an Oriental queen. In addition, she possessed a warm heart, a tender love for little children, a delicacy and consideration in her relations, at least with us missionaries, which would have done honor to any European lady of high rank. The queen, though a Korean who had never seen the society of a foreign court, was a perfect lady. It was with surprise that I learned that as much difference exists in Korea between the people of high birth and breeding and the common coolie as is found between the European gentleman and the day laborer. Their majesties kindly inquired about my trip to Korea, my present comfort, and my friends and family in America, showing the kindest interest in what concerned me most. The conversation was carried on through an interpreter, who stood behind a tall screen, his body bent nearly double in reverence, never raising his eyes.

THE KING OF KOREA. PAGE 23

I learned later that Korean doctors, always men, who had treated the queen, felt (?) her pulse by using a cord, one end of which was fastened about her wrist, and the other carried into the next room was held in the doctor’s fingers. The royal tongue, I was told, was protruded through a slit in a screen for the physician’s observation. I found the queen’s trouble nothing more serious than a small furuncle which needed lancing; but as the mere suggestion of approaching her sacred person with any sort of surgical instrument was looked upon with unspeakable horror and indignation by all who surrounded her, and was flatly forbidden by the king, patience and slower measures were necessarily resorted to.

It was hardly to be wondered at that all the queen’s friends were so over-cautious and fearful for her safety. She had suffered long and malignant persecution at the hands of a cruel father-in-law, whose wicked ambitious schemes and greed of power she had balked, and nothing that a fertile brain and hate combined with wealth and influence could contrive was left undone to bring about the ruin of this unhappy lady. Slander, assassins, insurrection, fire, conspiracy with hostile nations—were all resorted to; many and thrilling were her hairbreadth escapes. Once disguised and carried on the back of a faithful retainer, she was taken from one end of the city to the other, and once in a common native woman’s chair she was borne to a place of concealment and safety. Nearly her whole immediate family were destroyed at one fell blow, by means of an infernal machine cunningly devised, sent as a present of great value from a supposed hermit, to be opened only in the presence of every member of the family. Through some fortunate circumstance the queen was detained away, but all present were instantly killed and horribly mutilated. To understand the reason for this ferocious enmity, one needs to know a little of the royal history.

The present king was the adopted son of a former childless king. His widow appointed the present king’s father to act as regent until the majority of his son. The older man was greedy of power, keen and crafty, and not inclined to hand over the reins of government; he therefore selected a wife for his son from a family of his near friends, choosing a woman he supposed he could easily control; but he was mistaken in her character and gifts. Years slipped by and time had long been over-ripe for the king to assume the government, and yet the “Tai-won-kun” gave no sign of relinquishing his clutch upon the reins of power; but the king, gentle and submissive to his father, as all Koreans are taught to be, was unwilling to force a resignation. One morning, however, through a coup d’état of the queen, the old man found himself displaced, and a new cabinet and set of advisers selected from the friends and cousins of the queen. His rage knew no bounds, and from that time forth he planned her destruction. How he finally succeeded in carrying out his malicious intentions must be related later. Thus far, the queen, equally shrewd and fortunate, had escaped his toils.

To return to our palace visit, however. After examining into her majesty’s trouble, and prescribing a course of treatment, we took our leave, backing and bowing ourselves out of the royal apartments as if we had been born and bred hangers-on of courts. I soon learned that all my verbs must wear a long train of “simnaitas,” “simnikas,” and “sipsios,” the highest honorific endings when visiting the palace. Each Korean verb has a generous collection of these endings, from which the confused and unwary stranger must select at his peril, when addressing natives of different ranks; but there is no doubt, fortunately, about what must be used at the palace, and one feels quite safe if every verb is tipped with a “simnaita” or “simnika.” To be sure, there are high Chinese-derived words, which natives always use there, instead of the simpler Anglo-Saxon—I should say, Korean—but uninitiated foreigners are not expected to know them, and are really most generously excused for all mistakes. Koreans are in this respect models of kindness and politeness, and will often hear newcomers make the most laughable and absurd mistakes without a single spasm of countenance to show that they have taken note of the blunder.

Not many days after this visit to the palace, an official appeared at my home with a number of interesting and beautiful gifts from the queen, including a fine embroidered screen, embroidered pillow, and bed cushions, native silks, linens, cotton materials, fans, pockets and various other articles.

Her majesty was extremely generous, and it was nothing unusual for her thus to bestow in most munificent fashion gifts upon the members of our mission whom she had met, and upon the ladies of the legations. Every Korean New Year’s day any of us who were in the slightest way connected with the palace or government institutions received many pheasants, bags of nuts, pounds of beef, large fish, hundreds of eggs and pounds of dried persimmons.

On the royal birthdays, too, dainties were sent to us, and at the beginning of each summer dozens of fans and jars of honey water were presented. This open-handed generosity indicated not only the queen’s kind disposition, but the favor with which all Americans were regarded by the Korean authorities, due largely to the favorable impression which Dr. Allen had made, and also perhaps to the fact that we belonged to a large and powerful nation, which had no object in interfering in Eastern politics in any way to the detriment of Korea, and which might become an efficient ally and defender.

During my first year I had the exciting and doubtful privilege of being present at a native sectional or stone fight, an experience which few covet even once—and which the wise and informed, at least of womankind, invariably forego. Once a year at a certain season, where two neighborhoods or sections have grievances against each other, they settle them by one of these fights. They choose captains, arrange the opposing parties, and begin firing stones and tiles at each other. As one crowd or the other is by turns victorious, and the pursued flee before their enemies, and as those who are at one moment triumphant are often the very next the vanquished, hotly chased, it is almost impossible to find any safe point of vantage from which to view the conflict. At any instant the place one has chosen, as well removed and safe, may become the ground of the hottest battle. Very large stones are often thrown, and people are fatally injured, though not as frequently as one would think. It is a wonder that hundreds are not killed or wounded. In going from my home to visit a friend one day, a few weeks after my arrival, I was obliged to pass a large crowd of men, who seemed divided into two parties, and were very noisy and vociferous. I remarked upon this to my friend, and sending to inquire, we found it was the preliminaries of a stone fight which I had witnessed. Her husband said it would not be safe for me to return alone, and therefore to my lasting gratitude offered to see me through it.

We soon found that the stones and missiles were coming our way, and were forced to run for shelter to a Korean house. For a few moments the fight was hot around us, and then as it seemed to have passed on—quite far down the street—we ventured forth, only to find that the tide had again turned, and the whole mob were tearing in our direction. Mr. Bunker, for it was he, said there was nothing for it but to scale a half-broken wall into an adjacent compound, and run for it to the house of Mr. Gilmore, not far distant. So, reckless of my best gown, I scaled the wall with great alacrity, and we ran for it quite shamelessly. Missiles of considerable size were raining around us, and the possibility, or rather probability, that one would soon light on our heads, accelerated our speed to no small degree. These affairs are often funny in retrospect, but smack strongly of the tragic at the time, while the outcome is so decidedly uncertain. However, by much dodging and circling, frequently sheltering ourselves under the wall, we at length reached Mr. Gilmore’s house, when, in a somewhat ruffled and perturbed condition, I waited till the coast was quite clear and found my way home, a wiser and deeply thoughtful woman.

On one occasion not long since an affair of this kind threatened very serious results for a hot-headed young compatriot of ours, who went to photograph one of these fights. A cool-headed American recently snapped his camera on a tiger here before shooting it, and it may have been in emulation of him, that our young friend made this attempt. He soon became convinced that he was the object at which all the missiles were sent, and that the bloodthirsty ruffians were all seeking his life. Being unfortunately as well as unlawfully armed with a six-shooter, over-excited and alarmed, he fired into the crowd and fled. His bullet entered the fleshy part of the leg of one of the natives, who fell, as most of them supposed, mortally wounded; and now indeed the wrath of the crowd on both sides was directed at its hottest against the thoroughly frightened young man. He ran for his life—the crowd pursuing with yells of fury. Camera and overcoat were flung away—he had nearly a mile to go to reach shelter in the American legation, which he at length managed to do, panting and almost exhausted. As his victim was not seriously hurt, he escaped with the payment of a fine, a few weeks’ imprisonment, a most severe reprimand, and a polite request to leave the country.

The Koreans often evince considerable military skill in the tactics of these civil battles. Sharpshooters armed with slings will take possession of some high point, and others are sent to take them by surprise and dislodge them, suddenly creeping upon them from the rear, or scaling the rampart in the face of the enemy’s fire. These natives repeatedly prove themselves good fighters and no cowards, when armed and facing not too unequal numbers.

During this my first summer in Korea I was invited to attend a royal Quaga. This was a very interesting assemblage of Korean scholars, who met in the palace grounds, and there in little tents or booths wrote theses in Chinese on some subject given by the king. Those whose papers passed a successful examination were rewarded with some civil rank, supposed to be proportioned to the excellence of their standing. I should think that more than a thousand men from all parts of the country were gathered in these grounds, busily writing or copying their papers, some of which were then being handed to the judges.

I was told, however, that in nearly all the successful cases money was necessary to aid the judgment and clarify the minds of the judges. We were treated with great kindness, invited to a fine pavilion, and later offered refreshments in the royal dining hall. This old-time (shall I say, dishonored) institution has now fallen into disuse for some years. No doubt in its honest beginnings a truly competitive examination for office, it was good and useful, but abuses creeping in, rendered it an empty form to be finally abolished as a useless and effete remnant of ancient days.

Another event of the summer was a little trip made to Poukhan, or the northern fortress, about ten miles distant from Seoul. It is said by Koreans that a secret underground road leads from it to the palace in Seoul, so that in case of any danger, or the investment of the city by enemies, the royal family could flee hither for safety. It is in truth an ideal spot for such a purpose. European soldiers have said that properly fortified it would be for months, perhaps years, impregnable. Our visit was made in Korea’s loveliest season, the month of May, which is, if possible, more beautiful than in any other land. Wild flowers of the most exquisite hue and odor abound everywhere, but at Poukhan they seemed to be in greater quantities and lovelier colors. The mountain rises bold and rugged in outline, and its scenery is wild and in places almost forbidding, but a beautiful brook dashes down its sides, leaping over huge boulders and turning everything into luxuriant beauty, like the lovely maids of fairy lore, in whose footsteps the sweetest flowers sprang and from whose lips dropped fairest gems.

This brook flows from a spring which bubbles up in the top of the mountain, so that any garrison stationed there need never surrender for want of water, nor indeed of food, for after a steep ascent of about a mile, the path suddenly pierces the rocks, and entering a picturesque gate in a more picturesque wall, all hung with ivy, dips into a verdant valley surrounded on all sides by lofty barriers of rock. Here are fertile fields where food can easily be raised and stored against an evil time.

Some of our missionaries often come here, and spend the hot and unhealthy summer weeks among the cool shades of these lofty rocks—in some of the Buddhist temples. There are some delightful little pavilions, near clear, cool pools of water, with scenery on all sides very wild, beautiful, and picturesque.

At that time, in the history of our mission nearly every foreigner possessed a horse, most of them Chinese ponies, very gentle and easy to ride. Utterly unacquainted with the nature of the people, it was feared by many that danger might suddenly arise, and that we ought to have means of escape at hand. We found them very useful and pleasant accessories, and often when the hot afternoon sun was low we explored some of the pretty and interesting surroundings of Seoul.

This city lies encircled by low mountains, whose treeless and bare outlines cut the blue horizon with a bold abruptness. Among the hills and mountain passes are pretty woods and groves—and here lies nestled many a little hamlet, entered through some charming lane, bordered with blossoming bushes of clematis, eglantine, hawthorn or syringa, in richest profusion. Mr. Underwood was often my guide on these excursions; sometimes we walked on the city wall, and saw the distant mountains and the sleeping villages beneath us, bathed in glorious moonlight, and thanked God for casting our lives in a land of so much beauty and among a people so kindly and teachable.

THE GREAT MARKET AT CHEENJU

SURROUNDINGS OF SEOUL. PAGE 32

During all these months and the following winter foundations were still busily laying, language helps and Bible translations were under way, and through hospital and school, as well as by direct evangelistic effort, people were being reached. The number of attendants upon the services in the little chapel was daily increasing, and reports came from the natives working in the country of inquirers and converts there, which made it seem necessary to make another extended trip as soon as possible. A second trip had already been made by Mr. Underwood, selling books and simple medicines, and gathering in here and there a little handful of converts. He met with great encouragement, but baptized few. During his first trip he traveled to the northern border of Korea, stopping in all the large towns, Songdo, Anju, Pyeng Yang, Kangai, Haiju, Ouiju. During the entire year less than twenty-five were baptized, and from the first altogether up to that time hardly fifty, while Methodists and Presbyterians together up to 1889 numbered only a little over one hundred. In April of 1888 he baptized seven men at Sorai, a village in Whang Hai, where the Gospel had been brought in from China by a Mr. Saw Sang Hyen, a convert of Mr. Ross’. Some of these men had come to the capital in the spring of 1887 and three had been baptized after careful examination.

The seven who were received in their own village had been for more than a year in preparation, and then were baptized only after Mr. Underwood had spent ten days in their village, talking with and examining them. This is mentioned to show that extreme caution was used in making the first admissions to the native church, in order that its foundations might be laid securely, if slowly. In the trip made in November, 1888, certain Koreans had been placed in a few localities to instruct, sell tracts and pave the way for the work of the foreigner on a succeeding visit. One of these men was stationed at Pyeng Yang, one at Chang Yun, and one at Ouiju. Extremely encouraging, but in some cases exaggerated reports came from all these places as to the increasing number of hopeful inquirers, and it seemed imperative that a trip should be taken as soon as spring opened, for the examination, encouragement and instruction of these new believers, and to oversee the work of the employed agents, who were necessarily unproved as yet.

Mr. Underwood and I had been engaged since the early fall, and we had arranged to be married, and to start for the country on the fourteenth of March. The whole foreign community seemed to vie with each other in tokens of kindness and good will towards us on that occasion.

On the morning of the eventful day, the jingling bells of many pack-ponies was heard in our courtyard, and I soon discovered that quite a train of the little animals had arrived with the gift of her majesty. One million cash! It sounds like “Arabian Nights,” but as at that time 2,500 to 3,000 cash went to the making of the dollar, it was not, after all, more than a generous Korean queen might easily give, or a missionary easily dispose of. Their majesties arranged for several people from the palace to be present at the ceremony, the army was represented by General Han Ku Sul, a nobleman of the highest rank, and the cabinet by Min Yeng Whan, a near relative of the queen, and in highest favor with their majesties.

A number of palace women were also present, behind screens, and of course some of the native Christians. The whole foreign community gave us their good wishes, and cable messages were put in our hands just after the ceremony, from each of our respective homes in America.

Early on the morning of the 14th of March, 1889, we set out on our wedding trip.

Everything except force had been resorted to by missionaries and foreigners residing in Seoul to prevent my taking this journey. No European woman had, as yet, ever traveled in the interior of Korea, and not more than four or five men had ever ventured ten miles outside the walls, except to the port. Tigers and leopards were known to exist in the mountains; the character of the natives was not well understood by most people; contagion in the inns, the rudeness of mobs, the difficulty of obtaining good water, no means of speedy communication with Seoul, the necessity at times of long marches, were all possible dangers, but were greatly overestimated. It was freely and frequently predicted, that if I came back at all, it would be in my coffin, and my poor husband fell under the heaviest of public censure for consenting to take me. As he had made two trips and saw no difficulty, I felt I could trust his judgment, and as country work was exactly what I had longed to do, and what had been my ideal from the first, I looked forward with the greatest pleasure to a journey through a lovely country, to be filled with blessed service; it seemed to me no honeymoon so rich in delight could ever have been planned before.

It was arranged that I should go in a native chair, which consisted of a sort of box frame, high enough for me to sit in Turkish fashion; it had a roof of bamboo covered with paper oiled and painted, the sides were closed in with blue muslin, and there were little windows of stained glass on either side. A curtain in the front could be raised or buttoned down to keep out the chill or the disagreeable piercing eyes of the curious sightseers or kugungers, as they are called in Korea. My conveyance was made more comfortable by cushions beneath and behind my seat, a shawl was draped around the inside to keep out draughts, and with a hot-water bottle and foot-muff at my feet, I felt positively steeped in luxury, and quite too much babyfied for a hardy missionary.

I was carried by a couple of strong chair coolies, the poles on which the chair was placed resting in straps, which hung from the shoulders of the carriers, so that its main weight came on them, rather than on the hands, which grasped the poles. There were four bearers, two who carried, and two who, by placing a strong rod under the chair, lifted its weight from the tired shoulders, for half a minute or so, once every ten minutes. At the end of every three miles these lifting men and the others changed places, and so we easily made thirty miles or more every day, without much fatigue on the part of these hardy men, whose profession this had been for years.

I’m afraid they were a very rough set of customers, and undoubtedly got us into trouble on more than one occasion. They were full of fun and spirits, and told long and fishy yarns, to the country folks, and occasionally played off practical jokes on these simple swains, to beguile the tedium of the road. They aroused the awe and admiration of the natives in the country villages, by telling them what wonderful things we carried in our packs. There was nothing, according to them, that we could not do, or had not got. “Why, even a boat,” said they, “is in that trunk. It folds up very small, but one blows into it, and it gradually grows hard and large, and lo! a boat.” Thus was magnified our rubber bath tub. That we finished our trip with so little difficulty with such companions speaks well for the gentle good nature of the natives.