Corea: The Hermit Nation

by William Elliot Griffis

When noblemen don the peaked hat, which covers the face as well as the head, they are as dead to the world—not to be spoken to, molested, or even arrested if charged with crime. This Corean mourning hat proved “the helmet of salvation” to Christians, and explains the safety of the French missionaries who lived so long in disguise, unharmed in the country where the police were as lynxes and hounds ever on their track. The Jesuits were not [[280]]slow to see the wonderful shelter promised for them, and availed themselves of it at once and always.

The royal sepulchres within the peninsula have attracted more than one unlawful descent upon the shores of Chō-sen. The various dynasties of sovereigns during the epoch of the Three Kingdoms in the old capitals of these states, the royal lines of Kokorai at Ping-an, of Korai at Sunto, and of the ruling house at Seoul, have made Corea during her two thousand years of history rich in royal tombs. These are in various parts of the country, and those which are known are under the care of the government.

Are these mausoleums filled with gold or jewels? Foreign grave-robbers have believed so, and shown their faith by their works, as we shall see. French priests in the country have said so. The ancient Chinese narratives descriptive of the customs of the Fuyu people, confirm the general impression. Without having the facts at hand to demonstrate what eager foreigners have believed, we know that vast treasures have been spent upon the decoration of the royal sepulchres, and the erection of memorial buildings over them, and that the fear of their violation by foreign or native outlaws has been for centuries ever before the Corean people. That these fears have too often been justified, we shall find when we read of that memorable year, A.D. 1866. The profuse vocabulary of terms relating to burial, mourning, and memorial tablets in Corea show their intense loyalty to the Confucian doctrines, the power of superstition, and the shocking waste of the resources of the living upon the dead.

The voluble Corean envoys when in Tōkiō, visited the Naval College, and on learning that in certain emergencies the students from distant provinces were not allowed to go home to attend the funeral of their parents, nor to absent themselves from duty on account of mourning, were amazed beyond measure, and for a few moments literally speechless from surprise. It is hard for a Corean to understand the sayings of Jesus to the disciple who asked, “Lord, suffer me first to go and bury my father,” and “Let the dead bury their dead.”

From the view-point of political economy, this lavish expense of time, energy, money, and intellect upon corpses and superstition is beneficial. Without knowing of Malthus or his theories, the Chō-senese have hit upon a capital method of limiting population, and keeping the country in a state of chronic poverty. [[281]]The question has been asked the writer, “How can a people, pent in a little mountainous peninsula like Corea, exist for centuries without overpopulating their territory?”

Wars, famine, pestilence, ordinary poverty answer the question in part. The absurd and rigorous rules of mourning, requiring frightful expense, postponement of marriage to young people—who even when betrothed must mourn three years for parents and grandparents, actual and expected, the impoverishing of the people, and the frequent hindrances to marriage at the proper season, serve to keep down population. This fact is an often chosen subject for native anecdotes and romances. The vexations and delays often caused by the long periods of idle mourning required by etiquette, are well illustrated by the following story, from the “Grammaire Coréenne,” which is intended to show the sympathy of the king Cheng-chong (1776 to 1800) with his subjects. It is entitled “A Trait of Royal Solicitude.”

It was about New Year’s that Cheng-chong walked about here and there within the palace enclosure. Having come to the place reserved for the candidates at the literary examinations, he looked through a crack in the gate. The competitors had nearly all gone away to spend the New Year holidays at home, and there remained only two of them, who were talking together.

“Well, all the others have gone off to spend New Year’s at home; isn’t it deplorable that we two, having no place to go to, must be nailed here?”

“Yes, truly,” said the other; “you have no longer either wife, children, or house. How is this?”

“Listen to my story,” said the first man. “My parents, thinking of my marriage, had arranged my betrothal, but some time before the preparations were concluded, my future grandfather died, and it became necessary to wait three years. Hardly had I put off mourning, when I was called on to lament the death of my poor father. I was now compelled to wait still three years. These three years finished, behold my mother-in-law who was to be died, and three years passed away. Finally, I had the misfortune to lose my poor mother, which required me to wait again three years. And so, three times four—a dozen years—have elapsed, during which we have waited the one for the other. By this time she, who was to be my wife, fell ill. As she was upon the point of death, I went to make her a visit. My intended brother-in-law came to see me, found me, and said, ‘Although [[282]]the ceremonies of marriage have not been made, they may certainly consider you as married, therefore come and see her.’ Upon his invitation I entered her house, but we had hardly blown a puff of smoke, one before the other, than she died.