Pyöng Yang
We reached Pyöng Yang (written Ping Yang by the war correspondents,
and universally pronounced Piang) in the early afternoon, and found
chairs sent by our kind hosts to take us from the station to the town,
a distance of about one and a half miles. Other passengers got into
rickshas, and others again into the drollest little trolleys on wheels,
like boxes with the front side missing, and containing a bench to seat
two persons. These trolleys run on the narrowest gauge tram lines, and
are propelled with great rapidity by a coolie running on each side: I
have never seen them anywhere but at Pyöng Yang.
We set off in our chairs, our luggage being carried on frames called
“giggies” on the backs of coolies, and the Chinese interpreter, whom we
had brought from Tai Yuan Fu (Mr. Chiao, pronounced “jow,” as in jowl)
walking with a friendly Korean evangelist sent to meet us. We had been
told that Chinese was understood everywhere, but this proved entirely
incorrect (like most of the information we had received), and we were
vastly entertained to see that these two could only communicate by
writing; this they did on the surface of the dusty road as they went
along. Our pace was fortunately slow, as Korean carriers are not like
the Chinese, and they set us down pretty frequently for a rest, which
was an opportunity for communication eagerly seized by the writers. Near
the station are handsome large new red brick barracks, and a Japanese
suburb is growing up: it is sad to see every place being disfigured by
European-looking erections of the ugliest and most aggressive type. The
American Presbyterian group of buildings are a delightful contrast to
these, and are Korean in style with necessary adaptation for Western
requirements, but there is a hideous new school on the brow of the hill
facing them, which stands in conspicuous nakedness like a blot on the
landscape. A sort of building epidemic seems to have broken out, which
threatens to sweep away all picturesqueness from the important towns in
Korea.
The city of Pyöng Yang is of great antiquity, and is said to date back as
far as 1122 B.C., when the celebrated Ki Cha reigned there.
[Illustration: KOREAN IN MOURNING]
The streets still retain a great charm, but each day sees it lessening.
The stalls contain all sorts of strange comestibles, among which
fish occupy a prominent position, and various seaweeds are a natural
accompaniment to them. Dried cuttle fish hang up in rows, and are a tasty
dish in the eyes of the natives, and all kinds of other fish are dried
and hung up in strings to form artistic designs for the adornment of the
shops, as well as for the benefit of purchasers. Next in number to fish
shops are those for hats, I should think, and these are quite unique.
I understand that a book has been written on the subject, so numerous
are the varieties in Korea. The common hat is made of black crinoline,
rather like the old Welsh hat, but not so tall, and it is tied with black
strings under the chin. As the whole of the rest of a Korean’s costume
is white, the black hat forms a telling contrast. The hair is allowed to
grow long, and is gathered into a top knot, which is visible within the
transparent crown of the hat. A closely fitting cap of horsehair rising
into a peak is worn indoors, and below it is a tight band of horsehair
about a quarter of an inch wide, bound round the head, greatly to the
detriment of the circulation. The mourning cap or hat is white, or rather
cream colour, and still more commonly is a large hat worn as mourning,
looking like an inverted flower, and accompanied by a long coat of
stiff undressed cotton to match (see sketch). Scholars wear a somewhat
different shaped crinoline hat, and boys celebrate their engagement
by wearing a special little straw hat. Official hats again are quite
different, of which an example may be seen in the design on the book
cover.
One of the most familiar sights passing along the streets is the
water-carrier, for up to the present time the water-supply of Pyöng Yang
has been entirely drawn from the river, and the men carry the water in
pails on their backs; in fact, unlike China, everything almost is carried
on the back in Korea, and frequently the loads are of a great weight.
The old tradition is that Pyöng Yang is a floating city (it was built
boat-shaped), and no one is supposed to dig in it, for fear of sinking
the ship.
One of the most interesting places outside the town is a famous temple
beautifully situated on the brow of a hill, set up to the god of war.
It was small and fairly well kept, and the priest made some fuss before
allowing us to enter. Like all the temples here, there is but scant space
within the building for any worshippers, but as they have no conception
of congregational worship, this is a matter of no importance. The
original religion of Korea was Shamanism, the worship of evil spirits,
and although it is supposed to have been superseded first by Confucianism
and later on by Buddhism (A.D. 550), it still retains its hold over the
people, and is carried on side by side with Confucianism and Buddhism.
Its shrines are to be found in Seoul itself and also by the wayside in
all parts of the country. The main point in the religion of the educated
Korean, as of the Chinese, is ancestor worship, and in the courtyard
of every large house may be seen the ancestral tablet house, where are
the tablets of two or three generations. There seem to be considerably
fewer temples in Korea than in China; they are less imposing, and less
frequented.
We next visited the fine new waterworks built by the Japanese, and they
have selected a beautiful spot on the summit of a hill overlooking the
town, as well as an island in the river which they have connected
with the mainland by a bridge. Soon that picturesque being—the
water-carrier—will be nothing more than a memory; but undoubtedly the
advantages of a good water-supply will reconcile the inhabitants to the
change. I am greatly astonished at the charge of dirtiness so frequently
brought against the Koreans, for on the whole they would bear comparison
with almost any European nation. They lavish endless time and energy on
getting their clothes white and well laundered, for which they possess
the most primitive implements imaginable. The garment is folded quite
wet, placed on a board, and beaten rapidly with two flat sticks for any
length of time. The sound greets one’s ears all day and every day in the
streets, and resembles that of a stick being drawn across palings; if you
happen to be lying ill, the endless sound is apt to be as nerve racking
as the notes of the brain-fever bird in India.
After climbing down to the river-bed by the waterworks, we proceeded
to climb up the opposite slope, where numbers of people seemed bent
on holiday-making, and there was a Japanese tea-house half-way up to
Pioneer Point, whence a magnificent view is gained over a large stretch
of country. The old city walls and a watch-tower surmount the pine-clad
hill, and a short walk brings one to a tomb of historic interest. In the
heart of the pine forest is Kicha’s grave, but the entrance was tightly
shut and barred, so that we were only able to get a glimpse of it. Like
all important Korean graves, it is a mound surrounded by stone animals
and figures of servants for the use of the deceased, and an altar on
which sacrificial food is placed. Kicha is said to have come to Korea in
1122 B.C. as a refugee from China, to be the founder of the empire, and
to have given it its name of “Land of Morning Freshness.” His dynasty
lasted nearly a thousand years. The old city wall of Pyöng Yang is said
to date from Kicha or Kuei-ja’s reign, but it is, alas, now in course
of demolition. This synchronises with the coming of the first party of
Cook’s personally conducted tours!
SHORT SUMMARY OF RECENT KOREAN HISTORY.
It is possible that some readers of this book may wish to have their
memories refreshed about the events which have crowded so rapidly on one
another’s heels during the last half century, so I have ventured to set
down a table of dates with notes, which can easily be skipped by those
whose memories do not require it.
1876. First foreign treaty with Japan—unsuccessful attempts had
previously been made by the Russians and Americans to obtain permission
to trade.
1883. Trade relations opened with Great Britain, America, and Germany.
Owing to internal factions, the Chinese, representing the conservative
forces of government, got decided hold in Korea over the radical party,
represented by Japanese factions.
1885. Treaty between China and Japan guaranteeing that neither country
should send troops to Korea without previous consultation.
1890 (approximately). First Protestant missions sent to Korea—mainly
American.
1894. China sent troops (without advising Japan) to put down the Tonghak
rebellion; hence resulted the war with Japan, in which China was
completely defeated.
1896. Russian influence became powerful. The Emperor took refuge in
Russian legation. Lobanoff Yamaga agreement between Russians and Japanese
to respect the independence of Korea, and not to send troops except by
mutual agreement.
1903. Russian intrigue won large timber concessions on the Yalu, and
demanded port on the N.W. coast opposite Antung-Yongampo, which they
renamed Port Nicholas. This was applied for by Great Britain and United
States of America as an open port, but Russian influence prevented this
being granted.
1904. War declared between Russia and Japan; Korea made agreement with
Japan to facilitate its campaign on the basis of Korea’s independence.
Since then the Japanese have steadily increased their control over Korean
affairs.
1907. The Emperor forced by the Japanese to abdicate in favour of his
nephew.