BURIAL CUSTOMS
After the interpreter difficulty had appeared as before insurmountable,
I was provided with one who acquitted himself to perfection, and
through whose good offices I came much nearer to the people than if I
had been accompanied by a foreigner. He spoke English remarkably well,
was always bright, courteous, intelligent, and good-natured; he had a
keen sense of the ludicrous, and I owe much of the pleasure, as well as
the interest, of my journey to his companionship. Mr. Hillier equipped
me with Im, a soldier of the Legation Guard, as my servant. He had
attended me on photographing expeditions on a former visit, and on the
journey I found him capable, faithful, quick, and full of “go,”--so
valuable and efficient, indeed, as to “take the shine” out of any
subsequent attendant. With these, a passport, and a _kwan-ja_ or letter
from the Korean Foreign Office commending me to official help (never
used), my journey was made under the best possible auspices.
The day before I left was spent in making acquaintance with Mr. Yi
Hak In, receiving farewell visits from many kind and helpful friends,
looking over the backs and tackle of the ponies I had engaged for
the journey, and in arranging a photographic outfit. Im was taught
to make curry, an accomplishment in which he soon excelled, and I
had no other cooking done on the journey. For the benefit of future
travellers I will mention that my equipment consisted of a camp-bed
and bedding, candles, a large, strong, doubly oiled sheet, a folding
chair, a kettle, two pots, a cup and two plates of enamelled iron,
some tea which turned out musty, some flour, curry powder, and
a tin of Edward’s “dessicated soup,” which came back unopened!
To the oft-repeated question, “Did you eat Korean food?” I reply
certainly--pheasants, fowls, potatoes, and eggs. Warm winter clothing,
a Japanese _kurumaya’s_ hat (the best of all travelling hats), and
Korean string shoes completed my outfit, and I never needed anything I
had not got!
The start on 7th November was managed in good time, without any of
the usual delays, and I may say at once that the _mapu_, the bugbear
and torment of travellers usually, never gave the slightest trouble.
Though engaged by the day, they were ready to make long day’s journeys,
were always willing and helpful, and a month later we parted excellent
friends. As this is my second favorable experience, I am inclined to
think that Korean _mapu_ are a maligned class. For each pony and man,
the food of both being included, I paid $1, about 2s., per day when
travelling, and half that sum when halting. Mr. Yi had two ponies, I
two baggage animals, on one of which Im rode, and a saddle pony, _i.e._
a pack pony equipped with my sidesaddle for the occasion.
Starting from the English Legation and the Customs’ buildings, we left
the city by the West Gate, and passing the stone stumps which up till
lately supported the carved and colored roof under which generations
of Korean kings after their accession met the Chinese envoys, who came
in great state to invest them with Korean sovereignty, and through
the narrow and rugged defile known as the Peking Pass, we left the
unique capital and its lofty clambering wall out of sight. The day was
splendid even for a Korean autumn, and the frightful black pinnacles,
serrated ridges, and flaming corrugations of Puk Han on the right
of the road were atmospherically idealized into perfect beauty. For
several miles the road was thronged with bulls loaded with faggots,
rice, and pine brush, for the supply of the daily necessities of
the city; then, except when passing through the villages, it became
solitary enough, except for an occasional group of long-sworded
Japanese travellers, or baggage ponies in charge of Japanese soldiers.
The road as far as Pa Ju lies through pretty country, small valleys
either terraced for rice, which was lying out to dry on the dykes,
or growing barley, wheat, millet, and cotton, surrounded by low but
shapely hills, denuded of everything but oak and pine scrub, but with
folds in which the _Pinus sinensis_ grew in dark clumps, lighted up
by the vanishing scarlet of the maple and the glowing crimson of the
_Ampelopsis Veitchii_.
On the lower slopes, and usually in close proximity to the timber, are
numerous villages, their groups of deep-eaved, brown-thatched roofs,
on which scarlet capsicums were laid out to dry, looking pretty enough
as adjuncts to landscapes which on the whole lack life and emphasis.
The villages through which the road passes were seen at their best, for
the roadway, serving for the village threshing floor, was daily swept
for the threshing of rice and millet, the passage of travellers being a
secondary consideration; everything was dry, and the white clothes of
the people were consequently at their cleanliest.
At noon we reached Ko-yang, a poor place of 300 hovels, with ruinous
official buildings of some size, once handsome. At this, and every
other magistracy up to Phyöng-yang, from 20 to 30 Japanese soldiers
were quartered in the _yamens_. The people hated them with a hatred
which is the legacy of three centuries, but could not allege anything
against them, admitting that they paid for all they got, molested no
one, and were seldom seen outside the _yamen_ gates. There the _mapu_
halted for two hours to give their ponies and themselves a feed.
This midday halt is one bone of contention between travellers and
themselves. No amount of hunting and worrying them shortens the halt by
more than ten minutes, and I preferred peace of spirit, only insisting
that when the road admitted of it, as it frequently did, they should
travel 12 _li_, or about three and three-quarter miles, an hour. At
Ko-yang I began the custom of giving the landlord of the inn at which
I halted 100 _cash_ for the room in which I rested, which gave great
satisfaction. I had my mattress laid upon the hot floor, and as Im,
by instinct, secured privacy for me by fastening up mats and curtains
over the paper walls and doors, these midday halts were very pleasant.
Almost every house in these roadside villages and small towns has a low
table of such food as Koreans love laid out under the eaves.
Beyond Ko-yang, standing out in endless solemnity above a pine wood on
the side of a steep hill, are two of the strangely few antiquities of
which Korea can boast. These are two _mirioks_, colossal busts, about
35 feet in height, carved out of the solid rock. They are supposed to
be relics of the very early days of Korean Buddhism, when men were
religious enough to toil at such stupendous works, and to represent the
male and female elements in nature. They are side by side. One wears
a round and the other a square hat. The Buddhistic calm, or rather
I should say apathy, rests on their huge faces, which have looked
stolidly on many a change in Korea, but on none greater than the last
year had witnessed.
During the day we saw three funerals, and I observed that a Japanese
detachment which occupied the whole road filed to the right and left
to let one of the processions pass, the men raising their caps to the
corpse as they did so. These funerals gave an impression of gaiety
rather than grief. Two men walked first, carrying silk bannerets which
designated the woman about to be interred as the wife of so and so, a
married woman having no name. Next came a man walking backwards with
many streamers of colored ribbon floating from his hat, ringing a large
bell, and accompanying its clang with a dissonance supposed to be
singing. The coffin, under a four-posted domed cover and concealed by
gay curtains, was borne on a platform by twelve men, and was followed
by a large party of male mourners, a man with a musical instrument, a
table, and a box of food. None of the faces were composed to a look of
grief. On the dome were two mythical birds resembling the phœnix. The
dome and curtains were brilliantly colored, and decorated with ribbon
streamers. Two corpses, each extended on a board and covered with white
paper pasted over small hoops, lay in the roadway at different places.
These were bodies of persons who had died far from home and were being
conveyed to their friends for burial. Later we met another funeral, the
corpse carried as before on a platform by twelve bearers, who moved
to a rhythmic chant of the most cheerful description, the whole party
being as jolly as if they were going to a marriage. There was a cross
in front of the gay hearse with an extended dragon on each arm, and
four large gaily painted birds resembling pheasants were on the dome.
Korean customs as to death and burial deserve a brief notice. When a
man or woman falls ill, the _mu-tang_ or sorceress is called in to
exorcise the spirit which has caused the illness. When this fails and
death becomes imminent, in the case of a man no women are allowed to
remain in the room but his nearest female relations, and in that of a
woman all men must withdraw except her husband, father, and brother.
After death the body, specially at the joints, is shampooed, and when
it has been made flexible it is covered with a clean sheet and laid for
three days on a board, on which seven stars are painted. This board is
eventually burned at the grave. The “Star Board,” as it is called, is
a euphemism for death, and is spoken of as we speak of “the grave.”
During these days the grave-clothes, which are of good materials in
red, blue, and yellow coloring, are prepared. Korean custom enjoins
that burial shall be delayed in the case of a poor man three days only,
in that of a middle class man nine days, of a nobleman or high official
three months, and in that of one of the Royal Family nine months, but
this period may be abridged or extended at the pleasure of the King.
Man is supposed to have three souls. After death one occupies the
tablet, one the grave, and one the Unknown. During the passing of
the spirit there is complete silence. The under garments of the dead
are taken out by a servant, who waves them in the air and calls him
by name, the relations and friends meantime wailing loudly. After
a time the clothes are thrown upon the roof. When the corpse has
been temporarily dressed, it is bound so tightly round the chest as
sometimes to break the shoulder blades, which is interpreted as a sign
of good luck. After these last offices a table is placed outside the
door, on which are three bowls of rice and a squash. Beside it are
three pair of straw sandals. The rice and sandals are for the three
_sajas_, or official servants, who come to conduct one of the souls
to the “Ten Judges.” The squash is broken, the shoes burned, and the
rice thrown away within half an hour after death. Pictures of the
_Siptai-wong_ or “Ten Judges” are to be seen in Buddhist temples in
Korea. On a man’s death one of his souls is seized by their servants
and carried to the Unknown, where these Judges, who through their spies
are kept well-informed as to human deeds, sentence it accordingly,
either to “a good place” or to one of the manifold hells. The influence
of Buddhism doubtless maintains the observance of this singular custom,
even where the idea of its significance is lost or discredited.
The coffin is oblong. Where interment is delayed, it is hermetically
sealed with several coats of lacquer. Until the funeral there is
wailing daily in the dead man’s house at the three hours of meals. Next
the geomancer is consulted about the site for the grave, and receives
a fee heavy in proportion to the means of the family. He is believed
from long study to have become acquainted with all the good and bad
influences which are said to reside in the ground. A fortunate site
brings rank, wealth, and many sons to the sons and grandsons of the
deceased, and should be, if possible, on the southerly slope of a hill.
He also chooses an auspicious day for the burial.
In the case of a rich man, the grave with a stone altar in front of it
is prepared beforehand, in that of a poor man not till the procession
arrives. The coffin is placed in a gaily decorated hearse, and with
wailing, music, singing, wine, food, and if in the evening, with many
colored lanterns, the _cortège_ proceeds to the grave. A widow may
accompany her husband’s corpse in a closed chair, though this appears
unusual, but the mourners are all men in immense hats, which conceal
their faces, and sackcloth clothing.
After the burial and the making of the circular mound over the coffin,
a libation of wine is poured out and the company proceeds to sacrifice
and to feast. Offerings of wine and dried fish are placed on the stone
altar in front of the grave if it has been erected, or on small tables.
The relatives, facing these and the grave, make five prostrations,
and a formula wishing peace to the spirit which is to dwell there is
repeated. Behind the grave similar offerings and prostrations are made
to the mountain spirit, who presides over it, and who is the host of
the soul committed to his care. The wine is thrown away, and the fish
bestowed upon the servants. It will be observed that no priest has any
part in the ceremonies connected with death and burial, and that two
souls have now been disposed of--one to the judgment of the Unknown,
and the other to the keeping of the mountain spirit.
A chair is invariably carried in a funeral procession containing the
memorial, or, as we say, the “ancestral tablet” of the deceased, a
strip of white wood, bearing the family name, set in a socket. A part
of the inscription on this is written at the house, and it is completed
at the grave. It is carried back with exactly the same style and
attendance that the dead man would have had had he been living, for the
third soul is supposed to return to the house with the mourners, and
to take up its abode in the tablet, which is placed in a vacant room
and raised on a black lacquer chair with a black lacquer table before
it, on which renewed offerings are made of bread, wine, cooked meat,
and vermicelli soup, the spirit being supposed to regale itself with
their odors. The mourners again prostrate themselves five times, after
which they eat the offerings in an adjoining room. It is customary for
friends to strew the route of the procession with paper money.
In the period between the death and the interment silence is observed
in the house of mourning, and only those visitors are received who come
to condole with the family and speak of the virtues of the departed.
It is believed that conversation on any ordinary topic will cause the
corpse to shake in the coffin and show other symptoms of unrest. For
the same reason the servants are very particular in watching the cats
of the household if there are any, but cats are not in favor in Korea.
It is terribly unlucky for a cat to jump over a corpse. It may even
cause it to stand upright. After the deceased has been carried out
of the house, two or three _mu-tangs_ or sorceresses enter it with
musical instruments and the other paraphernalia of their profession.
After a time one becomes “inspired” by the spirit of the dead man,
and accurately impersonates him, even to his small tricks of manner,
movement, and speech. She gives a narrative of his life in the first
person singular, if he were a bad man confessing his misdeeds, which
may have been unsuspected by his neighbors, and if he were a good man,
narrating his virtues with becoming modesty. At the end she bows, takes
a solemn farewell of those present, and retires.
After the tablet has been removed to the ancestral temple, and the
period of mourning is over, meals are offered in the shrine once every
month, and also on the anniversary of each death, all the descendants
assembling, and these observances extend backwards to the ancestors
of five generations. Thus it is a very costly thing to have many near
relations and a number of ancestors, the expense falling on the eldest
son and his heirs. A Korean gentleman told me that his nephew, upon
whom this duty falls, spends more upon it than upon his household
expenses.
It is not till the three years’ mourning for a father has expired that
his tablet is removed to the ancestral temple which rich men have near
their houses. During the period of mourning it is kept in a vacant
room, usually in the women’s apartments. A poor man puts it in a box on
one side of his room, and when he worships his other ancestors, strips
of paper with their names upon them are pasted on the mud wall. I have
slept in rooms in which the tablet lay smothered in dust on one of the
crossbeams. Common people only worship for their ancestors of three
generations. The anniversary of a father’s death is kept with much
ceremony for three years. On the previous night sacrifice is offered
before the tablet, and on the following day the friends pay visits of
condolence to the family, and eat varieties of food. During the day
they visit the grave and offer sacrifices to the soul and the mountain
spirit.
A widow wears mourning all her life. If she has no son she acts the
part of a son in performing the ancestral rites for her husband. It has
not been correct for widows to remarry. If, however, a widow inherits
property she occasionally marries to rid herself of importunities, in
which case she is usually robbed and deserted.
The custom of tolerating the remarriage of widows has, however, lately
been changed into the _right_ of remarriage.