The Woman of Cho-sen--Her clothes--Her ways--Her looks--Her
privileges--Her duties--Her temper--Difference of classes--Feminine
musicians.
It will now be proper, I think, since I have given you a rough sketch of
the man of Cho-sen and his clothes, to describe in a general way to you
the weaker sex--not an easy task--and what they wear--a much more
difficult task still,--for I have not the good fortune to be conversant
with the intricacies of feminine habiliments, and therefore hope to be
excused if, in dealing with this part of my subject, I do not always use
the proper terms applicable to the different parts that compose it.
Relying, then, upon my readers' indulgence in this respect, I shall
attempt to give an idea of what a Corean female is like. It has always
been a feature in my sceptical nature to think that the more one sees of
women the less one knows them; according to which principle, I should
know Corean women very well, for one sees but little of them. Be that as
it may, however, I shall proceed to give my impressions of them.
As is pretty generally known, the women of Cho-sen, with the exception of
the lower classes, are kept in seclusion. They are seldom allowed to go
out, and when they do they cover their faces with white or green hoods,
very similar in shape to those worn by the women at Malta. They appear,
or pretend to be, shy of men, and foreigners in particular, and generally
hide when one is approaching, especially if in a solitary street. I
remember how astonished I was the first few days I was in Seoul, at the
fact that every woman I came across in the streets was just on the point
of opening a door and entering a house. It seemed so strange to me that
damsel after damsel whom I met should just be reaching home as I was
passing, that I began to think that I was either dreaming, or that every
house belonged to every woman in the town. The idea suddenly dawned upon
me that it was only a trick on their part to evade being seen, and on
further inquiry into the matter from a Corean friend, I discovered that a
woman has a right to open and enter any door of a Corean house when she
sees a foreign man appearing on the horizon, as the reputation of the
masculine "foreign devil" is still far from having reached a high
standard of morality in the minds of the gentler sex of Cho-sen. In the
main street and big thoroughfares, where at all times there are crowds of
people, there is more chance of approaching them without this running
away, for in Corea, as elsewhere, great reliance is placed on the saying
that there is safety in numbers. So it was mainly here that I made my
first studies of the retiring ways and quaint costumes of the Corean
damsel.
[Illustration: A COREAN BEAUTY]
Yes, the costume really is quaint, and well it deserves to be described.
They wear huge padded trousers, similar to those of the men, their socks
also being padded with cotton wool. The latter are fastened tightly
round the ankles to the trousers by means of a ribbon. You must not
think, however, that the dame of Cho-sen walks about the streets attired
in this manly garment, for over these trousers she wears a shortish skirt
tied very high over the waist. Both trousers and skirt are generally
white, and of silk or cotton according to the grade, position in life,
and extravagance of those who wear them. A tiny jacket, usually white,
red, or green, completes the wardrobe of most Corean women; one
peculiarity of which is that it is so short that both breasts are left
uncovered, which is a curious and most unpractical fashion, the climate
of Corea, as we have already seen, being exceedingly cold--much colder
than Russia or even Canada. The hair, of which the women have no very
great abundance, is very simply made up, plastered down flat with some
sort of stenching oil, parted in the middle, and tied into a knot at the
back of the head, pretty much in the same way as clergymen's wives
ordinarily wear it. A heavy-looking silver or metal pin, or sometimes
two, may also be found inserted in this knot as an ornament. I have often
seen young girls and old women wear a curious fur cap, especially in
winter, but this cannot be said to be in general use. It is in the shape
of the section of a cone, the upper part of which is covered with silk,
while the lower half is ornamented with fur and two long silk ribbons
which hang at the back and nearly reach the ground when the cap is worn.
The upper part of this cap, curiously enough, is open, and on either side
of the hole thus formed there are two silk tassels, generally red or
black in colour. When smartly worn, this cap is quite becoming, but
unfortunately, whether this be worn or not, the modest maiden of Cho-sen
covers her head and face with a long green sort of an overall coat which
she uses as a _mantilla_ or hood, throwing it over the head and keeping
it closed over the face with the left hand.
It must not on this account be imagined that there are not in Cho-sen
women as coquettish as anywhere else, for, indeed, the prettier ones,
either pretending that the wind blows back the hood, or that the hand
that holds it over the face has slipped, or using some other excuse of
the kind with which a woman is always so well provided, take every
opportunity of showing you how pretty they are and of admiring them,
particularly when they get to know who you are, where you hail from, and
who your Corean friends are. The ugly ones, of course, are always those
who make the most fuss, and should you see a woman in the street hide
her face so that you cannot see it at all, you may be very sure that her
countenance is not worth looking at, and that she herself is perfectly
conscious of Nature's unkindness to her.
As for several months I was seen day after day sketching in the streets,
the people got to know me well, and since the Coreans themselves are very
fond of art, although they are not very artistic themselves, I made
numerous friends among them, and even, I might say, became popular.
Vanity is a ruling characteristic of all people, and acting on this
little weakness I was able to see more of the Corean damsel than most
casual travellers.
[Illustration: A LADY AT HOME]
We find, it is true, _pros_ and _cons_ when we come to analyse her
charms, but taking the average maid, she cannot be said to be worse in
Corea than she is in other countries. She can be pretty and she can be
ugly. When she is pretty, she is as pretty as they make them, and when
she is the other way she is as ugly as sin, if not even worse. But let us
take a good-looking one. Look at her sad little oval face, with arched
eyebrows and with jet black, almond-shaped eyes, softened by the long
eyelashes. Her nose is straight, though it might to advantage be a little
less flat, and she possesses a sweet little mouth, just showing two
pretty teeth as white as snow. There seems to be so much dignity and
repose about her movements when you first see her, that you almost take
her for a small statue. Hardly will she condescend to turn her face round
or raise it up to look at you and even less inclined does she seem to
smile, such is her modesty; once her shyness has worn off, however, she
improves wonderfully. Her face brightens, and the soft, affectionate,
distant look in her eyes is enough to mash into pulp the strongest of
mankind. She is simple and natural, and in this chiefly lies her charm.
She would not compare in beauty with a European woman, for she is neither
so tall nor so well developed, but among women of far-Eastern nationality
she, to my mind, takes the cake for actual beauty and refinement. The
Japanese women of whom one hears so much, though more artistically clad,
are not a patch on the Venuses of Cho-sen, and both in respect of
lightness of complexion and the other above-named qualities they seemed
to me to approach nearest to the standard of European feminine beauty.
Their dress, as you may have judged by my rough description, is more
quaint than graceful, and cannot be said to be at all becoming;
nevertheless, when one's eyes have got accustomed to it, I have seen
girls look quite pretty in it. I remember one in particular, a concubine
of one of the king's ministers, whom I was fortunate enough to get to sit
for me. She did not look at all bad in her long blue veil gown, much
longer than the white one usually worn, which it covered, the white silk
trousers just showing over the ankles, and a pretty pair of blue and
white shoes fitting her tiny feet. She wore a little red jacket, of which
she seemed very proud, and she smoked cigarettes and a pipe, though her
age, I believe, was only seventeen.
Women of the commoner classes can always be detected, not only by the
coarser clothes they wear, but also by the way their hair is made up. Two
long tresses are rolled up on the back of the head into a sort of turban,
and though to my eye, innocent of the feminine tricks of hair-dressing,
it looked all real and genuine, and a curious contrast to the infinitely
less luxuriant growth of the better classes of women, I was told that a
good deal of braids and "stuffing" was employed to swell their coiffures
into the much-coveted fashionable size.
One very strange custom in Corea is the privilege accorded to women to
walk about the streets of the town at night after dark, while the men are
confined to the house from about an hour after sunset and, until lately,
were severely punished both with imprisonment and flogging, if found
walking about the streets during "women's hours." The gentler sex was and
is therefore allowed to parade the streets, and go and pay calls on their
parents and lady friends, until a very late hour of the night, without
fear of being disturbed by the male portion of the community. Few,
however, avail themselves of the privilege, for unfortunately in Corea
there are many tigers and leopards, which, disregarding the early closing
of the city gates, climb with great ease over the high wall and take
nightly peregrinations over the town, eating up all the dogs which they
find on their way and occasionally even human beings. Tigers have
actually been known to rudely run their paws through the invulnerable
paper windows of a mud house, drag out a struggling body roughly awoke
from slumber, and devour the same peacefully in the middle of the street.
Since then a _rencontre_ with a hungry individual of this nature during a
moonlight walk is sure to be somewhat unpleasant, it is not astonishing
that it is but very, very rarely that at any hour of the night the
Cho-sen damsel avails herself of the privilege accorded her. The woman,
as I have already mentioned, is considered nothing in Corea. The only
privilege she has, as we have just seen, is the chance of being torn to
pieces and eaten up by a wild beast when she is out for a constitutional,
and that we may safely say is not a privilege to be envied. The poor
thing has no name, and when she is born she goes by the vague
denomination of "So-and-so's" daughter. When there are several girls in
the family, to avoid confusion, surnames are found convenient enough, but
they are again lost the moment she marries, which, as we shall see in
another chapter, often happens at a very early age. She then becomes
"So-and-so's" wife. The woman in Corea has somewhat of a sad and dull
life, for from the age of four or five she is separated even from her
brothers and brought up in a separate portion of the house, and from that
time ideas are pounded into her poor little head as to the disgrace of
talking, or even being looked at by humans of a different gender. The
higher classes, of course, suffer most from the enforcement of this
strict etiquette, for in the very lowest grades of society the woman
enjoys comparative freedom. She can talk to men as much as she pleases,
and even goes out unveiled, being much too low a being to be taken any
notice of; the upper classes, however, are very punctilious as to the
observance of their severe rules. The Corean woman is a slave. She is
used for pleasure and work. She can neither speak nor make any
observations, and never is she allowed to see any man other than her
husband. She has the right of the road in the streets, and the men are
courteous to her. Not only do the men make room for her to pass, but even
turn their faces aside so as not to gaze at her. There are numberless
stories of a tragic character in Corean literature, of lovely maidens
that have committed suicide, or have been murdered by their husbands,
brothers, or fathers, only for having been seen by men, and even to the
present day a husband would be considered quite justified in the eye of
the law if he were to kill his wife for the great sin of having spoken to
another man but himself! A widow of the upper class is not allowed to
re-marry, and if she claims any pretence of having loved her late
husband, she ought to try to follow him to the other world at the
earliest convenience by committing the _jamun_, a simple performance by
which the devoted wife is only expected to cut her throat or rip her
body open with a sharp sword. They say that it is a mere nothing, when
you know how to do it, but it always struck me, that practising a little
game of that sort would not be an easy matter. For the sake of truth, I
must confess that it was a husband who depreciated the worthy act. The
lower people are infinitely more sensible. Though a woman of this class
were to lose twenty husbands, she would never for a moment think of doing
away with herself, but would soon enter into her twenty-first matrimonial
alliance.
Women, somehow or other, are scarce in Corea, and always in great demand.
The coolies, and people of a similar or lower standing, cannot do without
a female companion, for it is she who prepares the food, washes the
clothes, and sews them up. She is beaten constantly, and very often she
beats the man, for the Corean woman can have a temper at times. Jealousy
_en plus_ is one of her chief virtues. I have seen women in Seoul nearly
tearing one another to pieces, and, O Lord! how masterly they are in the
art of scratching. The men on such occasions stand round them,
encouraging them to fight, the husbands enjoying the fun more than the
other less interested spectators. The women of the lower classes seem to
be in a constant state of excitement and anger. They are always insulting
one another, calling each other names, or scolding and even ill-treating
their own children. What is more extraordinary still to European ears, is
that I once actually saw a wife stand up for her husband, and she did it
in a way that I am not likely soon to forget.
A soldier was peacefully walking along a narrow street, half of which
was a sort of drain canal, the water of which was frozen over, when a man
came out of a house and stopped him. The conversation became hot at once,
and with my usual curiosity, the only virtue I have ever possessed, I
stopped to see the result.
"You must pay me back the money I lent you," said the civilian in a very
angry tone of voice.
"I have not got it," answered the military man, trying to get away.
"Ah! you have not got it?" screamed a third personage, a woman emerging
from the doorway, and without further notice hit the soldier on the head
with the heavy wooden mallet commonly used for beating clothes.
The husband, encouraged by this unexpected reinforcement, boldly attacked
the soldier, and, whilst they were occupied in wrestling and trying to
knock each other down, the infuriated woman kept up a constant
administration of blows, half at least of which, in her aimless hurry,
were received by the companion of her life for whom she was fighting.
Once she hit the poor man so hard--by mistake--that he fell down in a
dead faint, upon which the soldier ran for his life, while she, jumping
like a tiger at him, caught him by the throat, spinned him round like a
top, and floored him, knocking him down on the ice. Then she pounced on
him, with her eyes out of her head with anger, and giving way to her
towering passion, pounded him on the head with her heels while she was
hitting him on the back with her mallet.
"You have killed my husband, too, you scoundrel!" she cried, while the
defeated warrior was struggling hard, though in vain, to escape.
As she was about to administer him a blow on the head that would have
been enough to kill a bull, she fortunately slipped on the ice and went
sprawling over her victim. The soldier, more dead than alive, had raised
himself on his knees, when that demon in female attire rose again and
embracing him most tenderly, bit his cheek so hard as to draw a regular
stream of blood. I could stand it no longer, and proceeded on to the
slippery ice to try to separate them, but hardly was I within reach than
I was presented with a sound blow on my left knee from the mallet which
she was still manipulating with alarming dexterity, by which I was at
once placed _hors de combat_ before I had time even to offer my services
as a peace-maker. Not only that, but besides the numberless "stars" which
she made me see, the pain which she caused me was so intense that,
hopping along as best I could on to the street again, I deemed it prudent
to let them fight out their own quarrel and go about my own business.
"Never again as long as I live," I swore, when I was well out of sight,
as I rubbed my poor knee, swollen up to the size of an egg, "never shall
I interfere in other people's quarrels. Who would have foreseen this? and
from a woman, too!"
It is, indeed, easy to be a philosopher after the event, but it is
strange how very often one gets into fearful rows and trouble without
having had the slightest intention either to offend or to annoy the
natives. Here is another little anecdote which I narrated some months ago
in the _Fortnightly Review_, and which is a further proof of the violent
temper of the women-folk, of the lower classes in Cho-sen. The Coreans in
general, and the women in particular, are at times extremely
superstitious, which partly accounts for the violent scene in question,
which arose out of a mere nothing, and nearly resulted in a most serious
case of wilful infanticide. This is how things stood.
I was sketching one day outside the east gate of Seoul, and, as usual,
was surrounded by a large crowd of natives, when a good-natured old man
with a kindly face attracted my attention, as he lifted up in his arms a
pretty little child, on whose head he had placed his horse-hair
transparent hat, and asked me whether I would like to paint the little
one so attired in my picture. I was tempted by the offer, and, having
taken up a fresh panel, proceeded to dash off a sketch of my new model in
his pretty red frock, his tiny padded socks, and his extra large hat, to
the great amusement of the audience, who eagerly watched every stroke of
my brush, and went into ecstasies as they saw the likeness come out more
and more plainly. The Coreans, like the Japanese, are extremely quick at
understanding pictures and drawings, and I was much gratified to notice
the interest displayed by my _auditorium_, for never before had I seen a
crowd so pleased with work of mine. My last experiences in the sketching
line had been among the hairy savages of the Hokkaido, among whom art was
far from being appreciated or even tolerated, and portrait-painting was
somewhat of a risky performance; so that when I found myself lionised,
instead of being under a shower of pelting stones and other missiles, it
was only natural that I felt encouraged, and really turned out a pretty
fair sketch so far as my capabilities went. "Beautiful!" said one; "Very
good!" exclaimed another; "Just life-like!" said they all in a chorus as
I lifted up the finished picture to show it to them, when--there was a
sudden change of scene. A woman with staring eyes, and as pale as death,
appeared on the door-step of a house close by, and holding her forehead
with her hands, as if a great calamity was to befall her, made a step
forward.
"Where is my child?" cried she in a voice of anger and despair.
"Here he is," answered one of the crowd. "The foreigner is painting a
picture of him."
There was a piercing yell, and the pale woman looked such daggers at me
that I nearly dropped the sketch, brushes and palette out of my hands.
Oh, it was such a look! Brrr! how I shivered. Then, with another yell,
tenfold more piercing than the first, she made a dash into the crowd, and
tried to snatch the child away. I have heard people say that I am
sensitive, and I believe that I really was on that occasion, for I
involuntarily shuddered as I saw at a glance what was coming. The crowd
had got so interested in the picture that they would not hear of letting
the child go; so the mother, scorned and pushed back, was unsuccessful in
her daring attempt. Boldly, however, making a fresh attack, she dashed
into the midst of them and managed to grasp the child by the head and one
arm; which led to the most unfortunate part of the business, for the
angry mother pulled with all her might in her efforts to drag her sweet
one away, while the people on the other hand pulled him as hard as they
could by the other arm and the legs, so that the poor screaming mite was
nearly torn to pieces, and no remonstrances of mine had the least effect
on this human yet very inhuman tug-of-war.
Fortunately for the child, whose limbs had undergone a good stretching,
the mother let go; but it was certainly not fortunate for the others,
for, following the little ways that women have, even in Corea, she
proceeded to scratch the faces of all within her reach, and I myself came
within an inch of having my eyes scratched out of my head by this
infuriated parent, when to my great relief she was dragged away. As she
re-entered the door of her domicile, she shook her fist and thrust her
tongue out at me, a worthy finish to this tragic-comic scene.
I do not wish you to think, however, that all women are like that in
Corea; for, indeed, they are not. In fact, the majority of them may be
said to be good-mannered and even soft in nature, besides being painfully
laborious. You should see the poor things on the coldest days and nights
of winter, smashing the thick ice in the rivers and canals, and spending
hour after hour with their fingers in the freezing water, washing the
clothes of their lords and masters, who are probably peacefully and
soundly asleep at home. You should see them with their short, wooden
mallets, like small clubs, beating the dirt out of the wet cotton
garments, soap being as yet an unknown luxury in the Corean household.
The poorer women, who have no washing accommodation at home, have to
repair to the streams, and, as the clothes have to be worn in the day,
the work must be done at night. Sometimes, too, three or more join
together and form washing parties, this, to a certain extent, relieving
the monotony of the kneeling down on the cold stone, pounding the clothes
until quite clean, and constantly having to break the ice that is
continually reforming round their very wrists. The women who are somewhat
better off do this at home, and if you were to take a walk through the
streets of Seoul by night you soon get familiar with the quick tick,
tick, tick, the time as regularly marked as that of a clock, heard from
many houses, especially previous to some festivity or public procession,
when everybody likes to turn out in his best. If a woman in our
country were sent out to do the washing under similarly trying
circumstances--and, mind, a suit of clothes takes no less than a couple
of hours to wash properly--I have no doubt that she might be tempted to
ask for a divorce from her husband for cruelty and ill-treatment; but the
woman of Cho-sen thinks nothing of it, and as long as it pleases the man
whom she must obey she does it willingly and without a word of complaint.
In fact, I am almost of opinion that the Corean woman likes to be made a
martyr, for, not unlike women of other more civilised countries, unless
she suffers, she does not consider herself to be quite happy!
It sounds funny and incongruous, but it really is so. While studying the
women of Corea, a former idea got deeply rooted in my head, that there is
nothing which will make a woman happier than the opportunity of showing
with what resignation she is able to bear the weight and drudgery of her
duty. If to that she can add complaint of ill-treatment, then her
happiness is unbounded. The woman of Cho-sen gets, to my mind, less
enjoyment out of life than probably any other woman in Asia. This life
includes misery, silence, and even separation from her children--the male
ones--after a certain age. What things could make a woman more unhappy?
Still, she seems to bear up well under it all, and even to enjoy all this
sadness, I suppose one always enjoys what one is accustomed to do,
otherwise I do not see how the phenomenon is to be explained.
[Illustration: A SINGER]
A few words must be added about that special class of women, the singers,
who, as in Japan, are quite a distinct guild from the other women. A
similar description to that of the _geishas_ of Japan might apply to
these gay and talented young ladies, who are much sought after by high
officials and magistrates to enliven their dinner-parties with chanting
and music. They are generally drawn from the very poorest classes, and
good looks and a certain amount of wit and musical talent is what must be
acquired to be a successful singer. They improvise or sing old national
songs, which never fail to please the self-satisfied and well-fed
official, and if well paid, they will even condescend to pour wine into
their employer's cups and pass sweets to the guests. If beautiful and
accomplished, the "Corean artistes" make a very good living out of their
profession, large sums of money being paid for their services. But if at
all favoured by Nature, they generally end by becoming the unofficial
wives of some rich minister or official. These women chalk their faces
and paint their lips; they wear dresses made of the most expensive silks,
and, like people generally who have sprung from nothing and find
themselves lodged among higher folks than themselves, they give
themselves airs, and cultivate a sickening conceit. Among the Coreans,
however, they command and receive much admiration, and many an intrigue
and scandal has been carried out, sometimes at the cost of many heads,
through the mercenary turn of mind of these feminine musicians.
This music is to the average European ear more than diabolical, this
being to a large extent due to the differences in the tones, semi-tones,
and intervals of the scale, but personally, having got accustomed to
their tunes, I rather like its weirdness and originality. When once it is
understood it can be appreciated; but I must admit that the first time
one hears a Corean concert, an inclination arises to murder the musicians
and destroy their instruments. Of the latter they have many kinds,
including string and brass, and drums, and cymbals, and other sorts of
percussion instruments. The flutes probably are the weirdest of all their
wind category, but the tone is pleasant and the airs played on them
fascinating, although somewhat monotonous in the end, repetitions being
continually effected. Then there is the harp with five strings, if I
remember right, and the more complicated sort of lute with twenty-five
strings, the _kossiul_; a large guitar, and a smaller one; the _kanyako_
being also in frequent use. Most of these instruments are played by
women; the flutes, however, are also played by men.