Three days later, in the stillness of the Korean New Year’s Day, I rode with a friend along a lonely road passing through a fair agricultural valley among pine-clothed knolls outside the South and East Gates of Seoul. Snow lay on the ground and the grim sky threatened a further storm. It was cold, and we observed with surprise three coolies in summer cotton clothing lying by the roadside asleep; but it was the last sleep, for on approaching them we found that, though their attitudes were those of easy repose, the bodies were without heads, nor had the headsman’s axe been merciful or sharp. In the middle of the road were great, frozen, crimson splashes where the Tong-hak leaders had expiated their treason, criminals in Korea, as in old Jerusalem, suffering “without the gate.”
A few days later an order appeared in the Gazette abolishing beheading and “slicing to death,” and substituting death by strangulation for civil, and by shooting for military capital crimes. This order practically made an end of the prerogative of life and death heretofore possessed by the Korean sovereigns.
So the “old order” was daily changing under the pressure of the Japanese advisers, and on the whole changing most decidedly for the better, though, owing to the number of reforms decreed and in contemplation, everything was in a tentative and chaotic state. Korea was “swithering” between China and Japan, afraid to go in heartily for the reforms initiated by Japan lest China should regain position and be “down” upon her, and afraid to oppose them actively lest Japan should be permanently successful.
On that same New Year’s Day there was more to be seen than headless trunks. Through the length of Seoul, towards twilight, an odor of burning hair overpowered the aromatic scent of the pine brush, and all down every street, outside every door, there were red glimmers of light. It is the custom in every family on that day to carry out the carefully preserved clippings and combings of the family hair and burn them in potsherds, a practice which it is hoped will prevent the entrance of certain dæmons into the house during the year. Rude straw dolls stuffed with a few cash were also thrown into the street. This effigy is believed to take away troubles and foist them on whoever picks it up. To prevent such a vicarious calamity, more than one mother on that evening pounced upon a child who childlike had picked up the doll and threw it far from him.
On that night round pieces of red or white paper placed in cleft sticks are put upon the roofs of houses, and those persons who have been warned by the sorcerers of troubles to come, pray (?) to the moon to remove them.
A common Korean custom on the same day is for people to paint images on paper, and to write against them their troubles of body or mind, afterwards giving the paper to a boy who burns it.
A more singular New Year custom in Seoul is “Walking the Bridges.” Up to midnight, men, women, and children cross a bridge or bridges as many times as they are years old. This is believed to prevent pains in the feet and legs during the year.
This day, the “Great Fifteenth Day,” concludes the kite-flying and stone fights which enliven Seoul for the previous fortnight, and every Korean insists on keeping it as a holiday. Graves are formally visited, and gathered families spread food before the ancestral tablets. Curious customs prevail at this time. A few days before, the Palace eunuchs chant invocations, swinging burning torches as they do so. This is supposed to ensure bountiful crops for the next season. People buy quantities of nuts, which they crack, hold the kernels in the mouth, and then throw them away. This is to prevent summer sores and boils. Also on the Great Fifteenth Day men try to find out the probable rainfall for each month by splitting a small piece of bamboo, and laying twelve beans side by side in one of the halves, after which it is closed, and after being bound tightly with cord, is lowered into a well for the night. Each bean represents a month. In the morning, when they are examined in rotation, they are variously enlarged, and the enlargement indicates the proportion of rain in that special moon. If, on the contrary, one or more are wizened, it causes great alarm, as indicating complete or partial drought in one or more months. Dogs do not get their usual meal on the morning of the “Great Fifteenth,” in the belief that the deprivation will keep them from being pestered with flies during the long summer.
If a boy has been born during the year, poles bearing paper fish by day and lanterns by night project from the house of the parents. The people at night watch the burning of candles. If they are entirely burned, the life of the child will be long; if only partially burned, it will be proportionately shorter.
I left Seoul very regretfully on 5th February. The Japanese had introduced jinrikshas, but the runners were unskilled, and I met with so severe an accident in going down to Chemulpo that I did not recover for a year. The line of steamers to Japan was totally disorganized by the war, and in the week that I waited for the Higo Maru war was uppermost in people’s thoughts. There were some who even then could not bring themselves to believe in the eventual success of the Japanese. The fall of Wei-hai-wei and the capture of the Chinese fleet opened many eyes. I was in the office of the “N.Y.K.” when the news came, and the clerks were too wild with excitement to attend to me, apologizing by saying, “It’s another victory!” Chemulpo was decorated, illuminated, and processioned for victories, Li Hung Chang was burned in effigy, and unlimited sake for all comers was supplied from tubs at the street corners.