Farmers—Farming and farm animals—Domestic
industries—Products—Quality and character of food-stuffs
The Koreans are an agricultural people, and most of the national
industries are connected with agriculture. More than seventy per cent.
of the population are farmers; the carpenter, the blacksmith, and the
stonemason spring directly from this class, combining a knowledge of
the forge or workshop with a life-long experience of husbandry. The
schoolmaster is usually the son of a yeoman-farmer; the fisherman owns
a small holding which his wife tills while he is fishing. The farming
classes participate in certain industries of the country; the wives of
the farmers raise the cotton, silk, linen, and grass-cloth of the nation,
and they also convert the raw material into the finished fabrics. The
sandals, mats, osier and wooden wares which figure so prominently in
Korean households, are the work of the farming classes in their leisure
moments. The officials, the _yamen_ runners, the merchants, inn-keepers,
miners, and junk-men are not of this order, but they are often closely
connected with it. The Government exists on the revenue raised from
agriculture; the people live upon the fruits of the soil; Korean
officials govern whole communities given over to agricultural labour. The
internal economy of the country has been affiliated for centuries to the
pursuits and problems of agriculture. Koreans are thus instinctively and
intuitively agriculturists, and it is necessarily along these lines that
the development of the country should in part progress.
It is impossible not to be impressed by a force which works so
laboriously, while it takes no rest save that variety which comes with
the change of season. The peaceable, plodding farmer of Korea has his
counterpart in his bull. The Korean peasant and his weary bull are made
for one another. Without his ruminating partner, the work would be
impracticable. It drags the heavy plough through the deep mud of the
rice-fields, and over the rough surface of the grain lands; it carries
loads of brick and wood to the market, and hauls the unwieldy market cart
along the country roads. The two make a magnificent pair; each is a beast
of burden. The brutishness, lack of intelligence, and boorishness of the
agricultural labourer in England is not quite reproduced in the Korean.
The Korean farmer has of necessity to force himself to be patient. He is
content to regard his sphere of utility in this world as one in which
man must labour after the fashion of his animals, with no appreciable
satisfaction to himself.
Originally, if history speaks truly, the farmers of Korea were inclined
to be masterful and independent. Indications of this earlier spirit are
found nowadays in periodical protests against the extortionate demands
of local officials. These disturbances are isolated and infrequent, for,
when once their spirits were crushed, the farmers developed into the
present mild and inoffensive type. They submit to oppression and to the
cruelty of the _Yamen_; they endure every form of illegal taxation, and
they ruin themselves to pay “squeezes,” which exist only through their
own humility. They dread the assumption of rank and the semblance of
authority. Their fear of a disturbance is so great that, although they
may murmur against the impositions of the magistrate, they continue to
meet his demands.
[Illustration: THE KOREAN AND HIS BULL]
At the present day the farmer of Korea is the ideal child of nature;
superstitious, simple, patient and ignorant. He is the slave of his work,
and he moves no further from his village than the nearest market. He
has a terrified belief in the existence of demons, spirits and dragons,
whose dirty and grotesque counterfeits adorn his thatched hut. There are
other characteristic traits in this great section of the national life.
Their capacity for work is unlimited; they are seldom idle, and, unlike
the mass of their countrymen, they have no sense of repose. As farmers,
they have by instinct and tradition certain ideas and principles which
are excellent in themselves. To the wayfarer and stranger the individual
farmer is supremely and surprisingly hospitable. A foreigner discussing
the peculiarities of their scenery, their lands, and the general details
of their life with them, is struck by their profound reverence for
everything beyond their own understanding, and their amazing sense of the
beautiful in nature. The simplicity of their appreciation is delightful.
It is easy to believe that they are more susceptible to the charms of
flowers and scenery than to that of woman.
At rare intervals the farmer indulges in a diversion. Succumbing to
the seductions of market day, after the fashion of every other farmer
the world has ever known, he returns to the homestead a physical and
moral wreck, the drunk and disorderly residuum of many months of dreary
abstinence and respectability. At these times he develops a phase of
unexpected assertiveness, and forcibly abducts some neighbouring beauty,
or beats in the head of a friend by way of enforcing his argument. From
every possible point of view he reveals qualities which proclaim him the
simple, if not ideal, child of nature.
During the many months of my stay in Korea I spent some days at a wayside
farmhouse, the sole accommodation which could be obtained in a mountain
village. The slight insight into the mode of life of the farming peasant
which was thus gained was replete with interest, charm and novelty.
Knowing something of the vicissitudes of farm life, I found the daily
work of this small community supremely instructive. Upon many occasions
I watched the farmer’s family and his neighbours at their work. The
implements of these people are rude and few, consisting of a plough, with
a movable iron shoe which turns the sods in the reverse direction to our
own; a spade, furnished with ropes and dragged by several men; bamboo
flails and rakes, and a small hoe, sharp and heavy, used as occasion may
require for reaping, chopping and hoeing, for the rough work of the farm,
or the lighter service of the house.
[Illustration: A SPADE FURNISHED WITH ROPES]
During the harvest all available hands muster in the fields. The women
cut the crop, the men fasten the sheaves, which the children load into
rope panniers, suspended upon wooden frames from the backs of bulls.
The harvest is threshed without delay, the men emptying the laden
baskets upon the open road, and setting to with solemn and uninterrupted
vigour. While the men threshed with their flails, and the wind winnowed
the grain, six, and sometimes eight, women worked, with their feet, a
massive beam, from which an iron or granite pestle hung over a deep
granite mortar. This rough and ready contrivance pulverises the grain
sufficiently for the coarse cakes which serve in lieu of bread.
Beyond the bull and the pig, there are few farm animals in the inland
districts. The pony and the donkey are not employed in agricultural work
to the same extent as the bull. This latter animal is cared for more
humanely than the unfortunate pony, whose good nature is ruined by the
execrable harshness with which he is treated. The gross cruelty of the
Korean to his pony is the most loathsome feature of the national life.
[Illustration: POUNDING GRAIN]
Irrigation is necessary only for the rice, which yields fairly abundant
crops throughout Central and Southern Korea. To the north, rice makes way
for millet, the great supplementary food of Korea. Elsewhere paddy-fields
abound, and the people have become adepts in the principles of irrigation
and the art of conserving water. Rice is sown in May, transplanted from
the nurseries to the paddy-fields in June, and gathered in October.
In times of drought, when it is necessary to tide over the period of
distress, the fields are used for barley, oats and rye which, ripening
in May and cut in June, allows a supplementary crop to be taken from
the fields. The fields are then prepared for the rice. The land is
inundated; the peasant and his bull, knee-deep in water, plough the
patches. Beans, peas, and potatoes are planted between the furrows of
the cornfields, the land being made to produce to its full capacity. The
crops are usually excellent.
The fields differ from the farms in China, where the farmers, preferring
short furrows, grow their crops in small sections. The long furrows
of the Korean fields recall Western methods, but here the analogy
ends. The spectacle of these well-ordered acres is a revelation of the
earnest way in which these down-trodden people combat adversity. In
many ways, however, they need assistance and advice. If it were prudent
to accomplish it, I would convert the mission centres of the inland
districts into experimental farm-stations, and attach a competent
demonstrator to each establishment.
[Illustration: CARRYING PRODUCE TO MARKET]
The Koreans hold rice, their chief cereal, in peculiar honour. They state
that it originated in Ha-ram, in China, at a period now involved in much
fable and mystery—2838 B.C. to 2698 B.C. The name, Syang-nong-si, itself
means Marvellous Agriculture. The name was doubtless given at a later
time. The first rice was brought to Korea by Ki-ja in 1122 B.C. together
with barley and other cereals. Before that time the only grain raised in
Korea was millet. There are three kinds of rice in Korea, with a variety
of sub-species. First, that which is grown in the ordinary paddy-fields.
This is called specifically _tap-kok_, or paddy-field rice. It is used
almost exclusively to make pap, the ordinary boiled rice. Then we have
_chun-kok_ or field-rice. This is so-called upland rice. It is drier
than the paddy-field rice, and is used largely in making rice flour
and in brewing beer. The third kind is grown exclusively on the slopes
of mountains, and is a wild rice. It is smaller and harder than the
other kinds; for this reason it is used to provision garrisons. It will
withstand the weather. Under favourable circumstances, lowland rice will
keep five years, but the mountain rice will remain perfectly sound for
quite ten years.
Next in importance to rice come the different kinds of pulse, under which
heading is included all the leguminous plants, the bean and the pea
family. That Korea is well provided with this valuable and nutritious
form of food will be seen from the fact that there are thirteen species
of round beans, two kinds of long bean, and five varieties of mixed
bean. Of all these numerous assortments, the “horse-bean” is by far
the most common. It is the bean which forms such a large part of the
exports of Korea. It is supposed by Koreans to have originated in
North-Western China, and derives its name from the fact that it is
used very largely for fodder. One variety only may be regarded as
indigenous—the black-bean—and it is found nowhere else in Eastern Asia.
Of the rest, the origin is doubtful. The horse-bean grows in greatest
abundance in Kyöng-syang Province and on the island of Quelpart, though
of course it is common all over the country. The black-bean flourishes
best in Chyöl-la Province. The green-bean, oil-bean, and white-cap bean
flourish in Kyöng-keui Province. The yellow bean is found in Hwang-hai
Province; the South River bean appears in Chyung-chyöng Province; the
grandfather-bean (so called because of its wrinkles) grows anywhere,
but not in large quantities. The brown-bean and chestnut-bean come from
Kang-won Province.
It would be difficult to over-estimate the importance of these different
species of pulse to the Korean. They furnish the oily and nitrogenous
elements which are lacking in rice. As a diet they are strengthening,
the nutritious properties of the soil imparting a tone to the system.
Preparations of beans are as numerous as the dishes made from flour; it
is impossible to enumerate them. Upon an average, the Koreans eat about
one-sixth as much pulse as rice. The price of beans is one-half that of
rice; the price of either article is liable to variations. There are
varieties which cost nearly as much as rice.
The common name for barley is _po-ri_; in poetical parlance the Koreans
call barley The Fifth Moon of Autumn, because it is then that it is
harvested. The value of barley to the Korean arises from the fact that
it is the first grain to germinate in the spring. It carries the people
on until the millet and rice crops are ready. Barley and wheat are
extensively raised throughout Korea for the purpose of making wine and
beer. In other ways, however, they may be considered almost as important
as the different kinds of pulse. The uses of barley are very numerous.
Besides being used directly as farinaceous food it becomes malt,
medicine, candy, syrup, and furnishes a number of side-dishes. Wheat
comes mostly from Pyöng-an Province, only small crops of it appearing in
the other Provinces. Barley yields spring and autumn crops, but wheat
yields only the winter crop. The poor accept wheat as a substitute for
rice, and brew a gruel from it. It is used as a paste; it figures in the
native pharmacopœia, and in the sacrifices with which the summer solstice
is celebrated.
Oats, millet, and sorghum are other important cereals in Korea. There are
six varieties of millet; the price of the finer qualities is the same
as that obtained for rice. One only of these six varieties was found
originally in the country. Sorghum is grown principally in Kyöng-syang
Province. It grows freely, however, in the south; but is less used than
wheat, millet, or oats in Korea. A curious distinction exists between the
sorghum imported from China and the native grain. In China, sorghum is
used in making sugar; when this sugar-producing grain arrives in Korea
it is found impossible to extract the sugar. Two of the three kinds of
sorghum in Korea are native, the third coming from Central China. Oats
become a staple food in the more mountainous regions, where rice is never
seen; it is dressed like rice. From the stalk the Koreans make a famous
paper, which is used in the Palaces of the Emperor. It is cultivated in
Kang-won, Ham-kyöng, and Pyöng-an Provinces.
The Korean is omnivorous. Birds of the air, beasts of the field, and
fish from the sea, nothing comes amiss to his palate. Dog-meat is in
great request at certain seasons; pork and beef with the blood undrained
from the carcase; fowls and game—birds cooked with the lights, giblets,
head and claws intact, fish, sun-dried and highly malodorous, all are
acceptable to him. Cooking is not always necessary; a species of small
fish is preferred raw, dipped into some piquant sauce. Other dainties are
dried sea-weed, shrimps, vermicelli, made by the women from buckwheat
flour and white of egg, pine seeds, lily bulbs, honey-water, wheat,
barley, millet, rice, maize, wild potatoes, and all vegetables of Western
and Eastern gardens; even now the list is by no means exhausted.
Their excesses make them martyrs to indigestion.