Corea or Cho-sen: The Land of the Morning Calm

by Arnold Henry Savage Landor

I took him by the arm, and we approached the bodies. The near view of them made him shudder and turn pale, and as he rested on my arm he was shivering all over. Not a word did he utter, not a lamentation did he make, not a tear did he shed; for, to show one's feelings is considered bad form in the land of Cho-sen. I could well see, however, that his heart was aching. He bent over the bodies, one after the other; then, after a lengthy examination, he pointed to one, and murmured:

"This is my son, this is my son! I know him by his hands. See how they are swollen, and nearly cut by the rope?"

Next, after a good deal of uncertainty, for the face was smeared and streaked with blood, we found the head pertaining to the body. The old man, with paternal love, then proceeded, if he could, to stick the head on the body again, but—this was impossible.

"Please, sir," he begged of me, in a tone of lamentation, "help me to take my son as far as the coffin."

I consented, and, with the utmost trouble, we carried the body down the hill, afterwards coming back for the head. In two mats, which had been carried inside the hearse, we wrapped the corpse up as well as we could, and then bundled him into the coffin. All this time a careful look-out was maintained, to see that no one else was about to spy over the deed, but once the corpse was in its coffin, the coolies quickly took the hearse on their shoulders, and all sped away, not without repeated "kamapsos" (thanks) being given me by the old man.

That was the only body which was removed, all the others being left to rot or to be eaten up by wild animals.

When I examined the expressions on the faces of the beheaded wretches, it did not seem as if any of them had at all enjoyed what had taken place; on the contrary, rather than otherwise, there was plainly depicted on their now immovable features an expression of most decided dissatisfaction. Without doubt, they had undergone a terrible agony. In some cases the eyes were closed, in others they were wide open, staring straight in front. The pupils had become extremely small. The lips of all were contracted, and the teeth showed between, tightly closed. Streaks of blood covered the faces, and it was very apparent that the noses, ears, and sometimes the outside corners of the eyes, had been bleeding, this being probably due to the violent blows received from the sword. In a word, the expression which had become stereotyped upon their faces was that of great pain and fright, although none of them, with the exception of the one who had resisted at the last moment, showed it in any other way. The muscles of the arms also were much contracted, and the swollen fingers were of a bluish colour with congested blood, and half-closed and stiff—as if made of wood.

By the time that the old man, his coolies and their sad burden had got well out of sight, on their way up one of the distant hills, I had finished packing up my sketches and painting materials. Then, as I retraced my steps towards Seoul it became quite dark. On the way, however, I purchased, for the large sum of three cash (the tenth part of a penny), a small paper lantern, with a little candle inside—the latter leading me to the extravagance of an extra cash; and, armed with this lighting apparatus, all complete, I proceeded towards the East Gate.

This little lantern, which was exactly similar to those used by the natives, came in very handy on this occasion. These lanterns are the most ingenious things that can be imagined for the money. Each has a wooden bottom, and a bent cane acts as a handle. A nail is provided in the centre of the wooden bottom, wherein to stick the candle, and the flame is protected by white tissue paper pasted all round the lantern.