Our Little Korean Cousin by H. Lee M. Pike
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H. Lee M. Pike >> Our Little Korean Cousin
Our Little Korean Cousin
By
H. Lee M. Pike
_Illustrated by_
L.J. Bridgman
Preface
Until very recently little has been known of the strange land in which
the subject of this tale lives. Recent events have done much to
introduce Korea and its people to the world at large. For this reason
the story of Yung Pak's youthful days may be the more interesting to his
Western cousins.
These are stirring times in Korea, and it may safely be prophesied that
the little Koreans of the present day will occupy a larger place in the
world's history than have their fathers and grandfathers. Their bright
eyes are now turned toward the light, and, under the uplifting
influences of education and civilization, the old superstitions and
antique customs are bound to give way.
Some famous Americans and Englishmen have had no small part in letting
in the light upon this dark nation, and in years to come, when Korea
shall have attained to the full stature of national strength, the names
of Rodgers, Blake, Kimberly, and many others will be held in high esteem
by the people of that country.
This little volume gives just a glimpse into the mode of life, the
habits and customs, the traditions and superstitions, of the Koreans. If
it awakens an interest in the minds of its young readers, and inspires
them with a desire for further knowledge of their cousins in this far
Eastern land, its purpose will be well served.
Contents
CHAPTER
I. SOME QUEER THINGS
II. YUNG PAK'S HOME
III. A GLIMPSE OF THE KING
IV. YUNG PAK AT SCHOOL
V. A LESSON IN HISTORY
VI. THE MONK'S STORY
VII. A JOURNEY
VIII. THE MONASTERY AT CHANG-AN-SA
IX. A FULL-FLEDGED TOP-KNOT
List of Illustrations
YUNG PAK A STREET IN SEOUL
"ALL THE BOYS SIT UPON THE FLOOR"
"HE MUST DROP TO HIS KNEES AND MAKE A PROFOUND SALUTE"
"ON THE UPPER PART OF EACH OF THESE POSTS WAS A RUDE CARVING"
"THE DAY WAS PASSED IN MUCH THE SAME MANNER AS THE PRECEDING ONE"
OUR LITTLE KOREAN COUSIN
CHAPTER I.
SOME QUEER THINGS
Yung Pak was the very queer name of a queer little boy who lived in a
queer house in a queer city. This boy was peculiar in his looks, his
talk was in a strange tongue, his clothes were odd in colour and fit,
his shoes were unlike ours, and everything about him would seem to you
very unusual in appearance. But the most wonderful thing of all was that
he did not think he was a bit queer, and if he should see one of you in
your home, or at school, or at play, he would open wide his slant eyes
with wonder at your peculiar ways and dress. The name of the country in
which this little boy lived is Korea.
One thing about Yung Pak, though, was just like little boys everywhere.
When he first came to his home in the Korean city, a little bit of a
baby, his father and mother were very, very glad to see him. Your father
and mother gave you no warmer welcome than the parents of this little
Korean baby gave to him.
Perhaps Yung Pak's father did not say much, but any one could have seen
by his face that he was tremendously pleased. He was a very dignified
man, and his manner was nearly always calm, no matter how stirred up he
might have felt in his mind. This was one of the rare occasions when his
face expanded into a smile, and he immediately made a generous offering
of rice to the household tablets.
All Koreans pay great honour to their dead parents, and tablets to
their memory are placed in some room set apart for the purpose. Before
these tablets sacrifices are offered. Yung Pak's father would have been
almost overwhelmed with terror at thought of having no one to worship
his memory and present offerings before his tablet.
It is to be feared that if, instead of Yung Pak, a little daughter had
come to this Korean house, the father and the mother would not have been
so pleased. For, strange as it may seem to you who live in homes where
little daughters and little sisters are petted and loved above all the
rest of the family, in Korea little girls do not receive a warm welcome,
though the mothers will cherish and fondle them--as much from pity as
from love. The mothers know better than any one else how hard a way the
little girl will have to travel through life.
But it is Yung Pak we want to tell you about.
As his father was a wealthy man, all the comforts and luxuries which
could be given to a Korean baby were showered on this tiny boy.
One of the queer things, though, was that he had no little cradle in
which he might be rocked to sleep. And you know that all babies,
especially little babies, sleep a great deal. So how do you suppose Yung
Pak's mother used to put him to sleep in this land where cradles were
unknown? She put him on the bed and patted him lightly on the stomach.
This she called _to-tak, to-tak_.
As Yung Pak grew older he was given many toys, among them rattles,
drums, flags, and dolls, just as you had them. Some of the toys, though,
were very peculiar ones--different from anything you ever saw. He had
little tasselled umbrellas, just like the big one his father used when
he walked out in the sun. He also had little fringed hats and toy
chariots with fancy wheels. One of Yung Pak's favourite toys was a
wooden jumping-jack with a pasteboard tongue. By pulling a string the
tongue was drawn in and a trumpet carried up to the mouth.
Another favourite toy was a tiger on wheels. Tiger-hunting, by the way,
was considered great sport by Yung Pak's father. It was a very dangerous
one, too, and sometimes lives were sacrificed in his efforts to capture
or to kill this fierce wild beast. Sometimes the animal was caught in a
trap which was nothing less than a hut of logs with a single entrance.
In the roof of the hut heavy beams would be placed on a forked stick.
The bait--a young lamb or kid--would be tied beneath the beams. The
moment the bait was touched, down would come the heavy timber--smash--on
the tiger's head.
But Yung Pak's tiger was ferocious only in looks. It was made of paper
pulp and painted with bright stripes. This harmless image of a fierce
beast Yung Pak would pull about the floor with a string by the hour.
All his pets were not of wood and paper. Real live animals he had.
Puppies and kittens, of course. His greatest pet, though, was a monkey.
What little boy ever saw a monkey that he didn't want for his own? So
when Yung Pak's father made him a present of a monkey--a real
monkey--alive--he just danced with glee.
This monkey was not a very large one,--not over a foot high,--but he
could cut capers and play tricks equal to any monkey you ever saw
travelling with an organ-grinder. He was dressed in a scarlet jacket,
and he was always with Yung Pak, except sometimes when he would try to
plague him by breaking away and running--perhaps to the house-top or to
the neighbour's garden.
After a little while Yung Pak got used to these "monkey shines," and he
knew that his pet would not stay away long after mealtime.
As Yung Pak grew older he was allowed to play with other boys of his own
age. A favourite sport was Hunting the Ring. In this game the boys would
get together quite a large heap of sand. In this sand one of them would
hide a ring, and then the urchins would all get slender sticks and poke
around in the pile trying to find the ring. Whoever succeeded in getting
the ring on his stick won the game, and carried the prize home as a sign
of victory.
Sometimes Yung Pak would be the winner, and then he would march home
with great glee and show the trophy to his father.
One of the first things Yung Pak was taught was to be respectful to his
father. Never was he allowed to fail in this duty in the least. This
does not seem strange when we know what a sober, serious, dignified man
Yung Pak's father was. It would not do to allow his son to do anything
that would upset his dignity, though he loved him very much indeed.
It was far different with the boy's mother. Her little boy soon learned
that her wishes counted for very little in the family, and she never
ventured to rebuke him, no matter how seriously he might offend her or
what naughty thing he might do.
One queer thing about Yung Pak was the way he used to wear his hair.
While still very young his head was shaved, except a little round spot
on the very crown. Here it was allowed to grow, and as years went by it
grew quite long, and was braided in two plaits down his back.
When Yung Pak grew to be a man the long hair was knotted up on top of
his head, and for this reason many people call Koreans "Top-knots." But
of this arrangement of the hair we shall tell more farther on.
CHAPTER II.
YUNG PAK'S HOME
Ki Pak, Yung Pak's father, was one of the king's officials. On this
account his home was near the great palace of the king, in the city of
Seoul, the capital of the country.
This city did not look much like the ones in which you live. There were
no wide streets, no high buildings, no street-cars. Instead, there were
narrow, dirty lanes and open gutters. Shopkeepers not only occupied both
sides of the crowded streets, but half their wares were exposed in and
over the dirty gutters. Grain merchants and vegetable dealers jostled
each other in the streets themselves. In and about among them played the
boys of the city, not even half-clothed in most cases. There were no
parks and playgrounds for them such as you have. Often, too, boys would
be seen cantering through the streets, seated sidewise on the bare backs
of ponies, caring nothing for passers-by, ponies, or each
other--laughing, chatting, eating chestnuts. Other boys would be
carrying on their heads small round tables covered with dishes of rice,
pork, cabbage, wine, and other things.
[Illustration: A STREET IN SEOUL]
Around the city was a great wall of stone fourteen miles in length. In
some places it clung to the edges of the mountains, and then dropped
into a deep ravine, again to climb a still higher mountain, perhaps. In
one direction it enclosed a forest, in another a barren plain. Great
blocks were the stones, that had been in place many, many years. It must
have taken hundreds and thousands of men to put them in position, and,
though the wall was hundreds of years old, it was still well preserved.
It was from twenty-five to forty feet high. The wall was hung from one
end of the city to the other with ivy, which looked as if it had been
growing in its place centuries before Yung Pak was born.
In the wall were eight gates, and at each one a keeper was stationed at
all hours of the day and night. No persons could come in or go out
unless their business was known to those who had charge of the passage.
Every evening, at sunset, the gates were closed, and during the night no
one was allowed to pass through in either direction.
A curious ceremony attended the closing of these gates. They were never
shut till the king had been notified that all was well on the north, on
the south, on the east, and on the west. As there were no telegraph
lines, another way had to be provided by which messages might be quickly
sent. Bonfires upon the surrounding hills were used as signals. By
these fires the king was told if all were well in his kingdom, and every
evening, as soon as the sun was set, four beacon-fires on a hill within
the walls told the news as it was flashed to them from the mountains
outside. Then four officers, whose business it was to report to the king
the message of the fires, hastened to him, and with great ceremony and
much humility announced that all was well. On this the royal band of
music would strike up its liveliest airs, and a great bell would toll
its evening warning. This bell was the third largest in the world, and
for five centuries it had given the signal for opening and closing the
gates of Seoul, the chief city of the "Land of the Morning Radiance."
At the stroke of the bell, with a great clang the gates were shut, and
strong bars were placed across the inner sides, not to be removed until
at early dawn the bell again gave its signal to the keepers.
To little Yung Pak, the loud tones of the bell meant more even than to
the sentinels at the gates. He knew that not only was it a signal for
the closing of the city gates, but it was also a warning that bedtime
was at hand.
The house in which Yung Pak lived was a very fine one, although the
grounds were not as spacious as those of many houses in the outskirts of
the city. But its walls were of stone, whereas many of the houses of
Seoul had walls of paper.
Yes, actually walls of paper!
But this paper was a very tough, fibrous substance, and would resist
quite a heavy blow as well as keep out the cold. Its slight cost brought
it within the means of the poorer people.
In some parts of Korea the houses were built of stout timbers, the
chinks covered with woven cane and plastered with mud. Neat hedges of
interlaced boughs surrounded them. The chimney was often simply a
hollow tree, not attached to the house.
Ki Pak's house was not only built of stone, but about it were four walls
of stone, about five feet high, to help keep out intruders. The wall was
surmounted by a rampart of plaited bamboo. In this wall were three
gates, corresponding to entrances into the house itself. One gate, the
largest, on the north side, was used only by Ki Pak himself, though
after he grew older Yung Pak could enter this gate with his father. The
second gate, on the east, was used by the family and friends of Ki Pak.
The third and smallest gate was reserved for the use of the servants.
The roof of this house was not covered with shingles, but with clay
tiles, coloured red. Many houses in the city had simply a roof-covering
of thatched straw.
The house was but a single story high, but in this respect the king's
palace itself was no better. There were three divisions to the house.
One was for the use of the men, a second for the women of the family,
and a third for the servants. Each division had a suitable number of
rooms for its occupants.
Yung Pak's own sleeping-room was a dainty affair, with its paper walls,
tiger-skin rugs upon the stone floor, and the softest of mats and silk
and wadded cotton coverings for his couch.
This couch, by the way, was another queer affair. It was built of brick!
Beneath it were pipes or flues connected with other pipes which ran
beneath the whole house. Through these flues were forced currents of hot
air from a blaze in a large fireplace at one end of the house. The
chimney was at the other end, and thus a draught of hot air constantly
passed beneath the floors in cold weather. On warm nights Yung Pak would
pile his mats upon the floor and sleep as comfortably as ever you did
on the softest feather bed your grandmother could make.
The windows of Ki Pak's house were not made of glass, but were small
square frames covered with oiled paper. These frames fitted into grooves
so that they could be slid back and forth, and in warm weather the
windows were always left open. The doors were made of wood, though in
many houses paper or plaited bamboo was used.
When Yung Pak ate his meals, he sat upon a rug on the floor with his
father and such male guests as might be in the house. The women never
ate with them. Their meals were served in their own rooms.
A servant would bring to each person a _sang_, or small low table.
Instead of a cloth, on each table was a sheet of fine glazed paper which
had the appearance of oiled silk. This paper was made from the bark of
the mulberry-tree. It was soft and pliable, and of such a texture that
it could be washed easier than anything else, either paper or cloth. On
this were placed dishes of porcelain and earthen ware. There were no
knives or forks, but in their place were chop-sticks such as the Chinese
used. Spoons also were on the table. A tall and long-spouted teapot was
always the finest piece of ware.
On the dining-tables of the poorer people of Korea the teapot was never
seen, for, strange as it may seem, in this land situated between the two
greatest tea-producing countries of the world, tea is not in common use.
All Koreans have splendid appetites, and probably if you should see Yung
Pak eating his dinner you would criticize his table manners. He not only
ate a large amount of food, but ate it very rapidly--almost as if he
feared that some one might steal his dinner before he could dispose of
it. And you would think that he never expected to get another square
meal!
But it was not Yung Pak's fault that he was such a little glutton. In
his youngest days, when his mother used to regulate his food, she would
stuff him full of rice. Then she would turn him over on his back and
paddle his stomach with a ladle to make sure that he was well filled!
CHAPTER III.
A GLIMPSE OF THE KING
Yung Pak's earliest days were spent very much as are those of most
babies, whether they live in Korea or America. Eating and sleeping were
his chief occupations.
When he grew old enough to run about, his father employed for him a
servant, Kim Yong, whose business it was to see that no harm came to the
child. For several years the two were constantly together, even sleeping
in the same room at night.
Once when Yung Pak and his attendant were out for their daily walk their
attention was attracted by the sound of music in the distance.
"What is that music?" asked Yung Pak.
"That is the king's band. It must be that there is going to be a
procession," was Kim Yong's reply.
"Oh, I know what it is," said Yung Pak. "The king is going to the new
Temple of Ancestors. My father said the tablets on which the king's
forefathers' names are engraved are to be put in place to-day."
"Let us hurry so as to get into a place where we can have a good view of
the procession."
"Yes, we will; for father told me that this is to be an extra fine one,
and he is to be in it himself. I want to see him when he goes by."
By this time Yung Pak and Kim Yong were running as fast as their flowing
garments and their dignity would allow them. And everybody else, from
the dirtiest street boy to the gravest old man, was hurrying toward the
palace gate through which the procession was to come. Yung Pak and Kim
Yong were fortunate enough to get a position where they could see the
palace gate, and the procession would have to pass by them on its way to
the temple.
Meanwhile the band inside the palace walls kept up its music, and the
people outside could also hear the shouts of officers giving their
orders to guards and soldiers.
Soon there was an extra flourish of the music, and the gate, toward
which all eyes had been strained, was suddenly flung wide open with a
great clang.
Hundreds of soldiers already lined the streets to keep the crowd back
out of the way of the procession.
First through the gate came a company of Korean foot-soldiers, in blue
uniforms. Directly after them came a lot of palace attendants in curious
hats and long robes of all colours of the rainbow. Some were dressed in
blue, some in red, some in orange, some in yellow, some in a mixture of
colours. All carried staves bound with streamers of ribbons.
Following the attendants came a line of bannermen, with red flags, on
which were various inscriptions in blue; then came drummers and
pipe-players dressed in yellow costumes, their instruments decked with
ribbons.
Yung Pak next saw more soldiers, dressed in the queerest of ancient
costumes; afterward came men with cymbals and bells, cavalrymen on foot,
and more palace attendants. Through the whole line were seen many
officials, gaudily adorned with plumes, gold lace, gilt fringe, swords,
and coloured decorations of all sorts. Many of the officials had on
high-crowned hats decorated with bunches of feathers and crimson
tassels. These were fastened by a string of amber beads around the
throat. Blue and orange and red were the colours of their robes. Then
followed more bannermen, drummers, and servants carrying food, fire, and
pipes.
All the time there was a tremendous beating of drums and blowing of
horns and ringing of bells. The noise was so great that Kim Yong hardly
heard Yung Pak when he shouted:
"Oh, I see papa!"
"Where is he?"
"Don't you see him right behind that little man in yellow who is
carrying a big blue flag?"
"Oh, yes," said Kim Yong. "He has on a long green robe, and on his
turban are long orange plumes."
"Yes; and on both sides of him, in green gauze coats, are his servants.
I wonder if he will notice us as he goes by."
"Indeed he will not. At least, if he does see us, he will give no sign,
for this is too solemn and important an occasion for him to relax his
dignity."
On state occasions Ki Pak could look as sedate and dignified as the most
serious official in all Korea; and that is saying a good deal, for in
no country do the officials appear more solemn than in this "Land of the
Morning Radiance."
Now along came more soldiers, followed by the great nobles of the
kingdom, and finally, amid a most terrific beating of drums, a fearful
jangling of bells, and a horrid screaming of pipes, the guard of the
king himself appeared.
Suddenly all was silent. Drum-beating, pipe-blowing, and shouting all
died away. The sound of hurried footsteps alone was heard. All at once
into sight came the imperial chair of state. In this chair was the king,
but not yet could Yung Pak get a glimpse of his royal master. Yellow
silken panels hid him from the view of the curious crowd, and over the
top was a canopy of the same description, ornamented with heavy, rich
tassels.
This gorgeous chair was much heavier than those used by officials and
ordinary citizens, and it took thirty-two men to carry it quickly and
safely past the throng to the entrance of the temple. Only a few minutes
were necessary for this journey, for the temple was but a short distance
from the palace gate, and both were in plain sight of Yung Pak and Kim
Yong.
It was only a fleeting glimpse of the king that they got, as he passed
from his chair to the temple gate; but this was enough to repay Yung Pak
for the rushing and the crowding and the waiting that he had been
obliged to endure. Rare indeed were these glimpses of his Majesty, and
they afforded interest and excitement enough to last a long while.
But the procession was not over yet. A chair covered with red silk,
borne on the shoulders of sixteen chair-men, passed up to the temple.
"Who is in that chair?" asked Yung Pak of his companion.
"The crown prince," was Kim Yong's reply.
"He attends his royal father in all these ceremonies of state."
Yung Pak drew a long breath, but said nothing. He only thought what a
fine thing it must be to be a king's son, and wear such gorgeous
clothes, and have so many servants at his call.
And then he had a second thought. He would not want to exchange his
splendid father for all the glory and magnificence of the king's court.
After the king and the crown prince, with their attendant officials and
servants and priests, had gone into the temple, Yung Pak and Kim Yong
did not stay longer at their post. The order of the procession had
broken, and the king and his immediate retinue would return privately to
the palace after he should pay homage and offer sacrifice to the spirits
of his ancestors.
CHAPTER IV.
YUNG PAK AT SCHOOL
Little Korean boys have to go to school, just as you do, though they do
not study in just the same way. You would be surprised if you were to
step into a Korean schoolroom. All the boys sit upon the floor with
their legs curled up beneath them. Instead of the quiet, silent
scholars, you would hear a loud and deafening buzz. All the pupils study
out loud. They not only do their studying aloud, but they talk very
loud, as if each one were trying to make more noise than his neighbour.
The Koreans call this noise _kang-siong_, and it seems almost deafening
to one unused to it. You would think the poor teacher would be driven
crazy, but he seems as calm as a daisy in a June breeze.
[Illustration: "ALL THE BOYS SIT UPON THE FLOOR"]
The Korean boys have to have "tests" and examinations just as you do.
When a lad has a good lesson, the teacher makes a big red mark on his
paper, and he carries it home with the greatest pride,--just as you do
when you take home a school paper marked "100."
But Yung Pak was not allowed to share the pleasures and the trials of
the boys in the public school.
One day, soon after he was six years old, his father sent for him to
come to his private room,--perhaps you would call it a study or library.
With Yung Pak's father was a strange gentleman, a young man with a
pleasant face and an air of good breeding.
"This," said Ki Pak to his son as he entered the room, "is Wang Ken. I
have engaged him to be your teacher, or tutor. The time has come for you
to begin to learn to read and to cipher and to study the history and
geography of our country."
Yung Pak made a very low bow, for all Korean boys are early taught to be
courteous, especially to parents, teachers, and officials.
In this case he was very glad to show respect to his new tutor, for he
liked his appearance and felt sure that they would get on famously
together. More than that, though he liked to play as well as any boy, he
was not sorry that he was going to begin to learn something. Even at his
age he had ambitions, and expected that sometime he would, like his
father, serve the king in some office.