# The passing of Korea/Chapter 21

CHAPTER XXI
MONUMENTS AND RELICS
None of these take the form of buildings in which men lived or worshipped. The style of architecture of the whole Far East is of a kind that does not last beyond a few hundred years without undergoing such extensive repairs as to constitute a virtual rebuilding of the edifice. So, while we will not look for any temples like those of ancient Egypt, we will not despair of finding other remains of almost equal antiquity.
The oldest monument in Korea, so far as we can ascertain, is the Altar of Tangun, erected on the very summit of the highest peak on the island of Kangwha, Mari-san. The Tangun is the fabled King who began his rule in Korea over two thousand years before Christ. He is supposed to have erected this altar whereon to worship his own divine father, Whanin. It is impossible to guarantee the genuineness of the tradition ; but sure it is that all down through the recorded history of the country we read that at intervals of about a century money has been appropriated for the repair of this most ancient relic. Its immense age is beyond question. It consists of a walled enclosure thirty feet square, perched upon the sharp point of the bare, rocky mountain peak. On one side of the enclosure rises the altar, about sixteen feet square and eight feet high, the ascent to the top being accomplished by means of a stone stairway. The foundation stones and the first few courses give evidence of extreme age. They are as moss-grown and seamed by time as the native rock of the mountain from which they seem to grow. The upper ​courses are apparently of more recent structure, and yet old compared with our most venerable European structures. Only the top itself has apparently been restored during the past five centuries. Standing upon this altar-crowned summit, as the ocean wind drives the clouds across the serrated tops of the rugged range one tries to imagine himself back in the days of Abraham, when Tangun stood by and directed the building of this heaventouching altar, and the flames leaped high about his burning hecatombs. The mind faints in the effort to grasp the meaning of four thousand years. Not even China herself, that synonym of cyclopean age, can show as ancient and authentic a memento of the past.
Near this altar, but on another spur of the mountain, is the walled fortress supposed to have been built by the three sons of Tangun. It is occupied to-day by a Buddhist monastery, showing how the magpie may inherit the eagle's nest. Here it was that the Korean tiger-hunters congregated at the time the French landed on Korean soil in 1866, and it was from these ancient battlements that they drove back what they supposed to be the mortal enemies of their fatherland. In the town of Kangdong in the north, there is a mound four hundred and ten feet in circumference, which is believed to contain all that is mortal of that first great ruler, Tangun. In Munwha there is a shrine to the Korean trinity, Whanin, Whanung and Tangun, the first being the creator, the second his son, and the third his earthly incarnation. Our interest in the story is enhanced by the fact that he came to earth in the form of a wind, and was incarnated through the medium of a virgin.
Compared with Tangun, Kija seems almost modern, though in truth he antedated David of Israel. The site of his ancient capital is pointed out beside the modern city of Pyeng-yang, and before the Chinese tore it up for breastworks in the war of 1894, the situation of the streets of that capital were plainly seen, marked out on the plain with almost the regularity of a Western American town. In the middle of it is Kija's Well, believed to ​have been dug at his command. Koreans affirm that a jar of its waters weighs a pound more than a similar amount of water from any other well in the land. The modern city has no wells at all, because the people have the notion that the city is like a boat, and that to dig a well would scuttle the craft. The illusion is made the more complete by a great stone post set in the bank of the Tadong River above the town, for to this post the boat is supposed to be moored. Near the city is found the grave of Kija with its stone images set about like guardian beasts, and there is a tablet partly defaced which claims to date from that ancient time.
Coming south to the site of the capital of ancient Silla, the modern town of Kyong-ju, we find multiplied relics of the remote past, for even Silla began before the coming of Christ and reached her prime before the days of Constantine the Great.
STONE DOG, GUARDIAN OF PALACE AGAINST FIRE
I doubt whether such a work could be accomplished by the Koreans to-day with success.
Another relic of that civilisation is an ancient stone tower some twenty feet high, shaped like a monster bottle. This was the astronomical observatory of ancient Silla, and its shape may perhaps be explained on the theory that it was like a well from whose depths one could look up and see the stars even during the day. Of the great Golden Pagoda, the splendid product of Buddhism in its lusty youth, nothing now remains but the two lower stories. An examination of this wreck, however, will show us many evidences of artistic skill. One of these is seen in the battered bas-reliefs which flank the door. One of these has a halo like one of the old-time Christian saints. The date of this, as of the observatory, must be about 500 A. D.
On the eastern coast of Korea there is a stone slab inscribed with Chinese characters, which was set up by a certain prefect in order to prevent the sea from flooding a wide alluvial plain. It was supposed to have some influence upon the spirit of the sea. A later prefect scoffed at it and threw it down. The very next season a disastrous tidal wave swept over the plain, destroying many lives and ruining an incalculable amount of property. The sacrilegious prefect was driven out, and the stone set up again, since which time there has been no more trouble.
In the far north one can still find remnants of a mighty wall that was built clear across the peninsula, from the Yellow Sea to the Japan Sea, to keep out the wild barbarians which made sudden and sanguinary raids upon the peaceful citizens of Koryu. That was seven or eight centuries ago. All through the country there are scores of walled enclosures on the tops of ​rugged mountains near important towns. These are relics of the days when the incursions of wild tribes made it necessary to have places of refuge at hand, where all the people could hasten in times of distress. Some of these are extremely old. One near Chemulpo is reputed to date from the beginning of our era.
Just outside the wall of Songdo, the ancient capital of Koryu, is shown a small stone bridge on which the loyal Chong Mong-ju was slain. He was faithful to the closing dynasty, and had to be put out of the way before the new one could be firmly established. On the central stone of this bridge is seen to-day a great brown blotch, which turns to a dull red in the rain, and the Koreans affirm that it is the blood of that loyal man.
Korea is filled with Buddhistic relics. There is hardly a district that does not have its monastery tucked away among the foot-hills of the mountains, and in some districts there are a dozen or more. On Kwanak Mountain alone there are said to be fourteen. They are all in more or less of a moribund condition, and monasteries that once boasted their hundreds of votaries now have half a dozen or less. One in the south was so. large that the Koreans affirm that in order to stir the big kettle in which the monks' food was cooked a man had to go out in a raft upon it. We must make allowance for a vivid imagination here, but there is proof at hand that some of their monastery kettles were immense. To-day there lies in the ditch beside the road near the town of Kyong-ju a kettle that was once the main culinary utensil of a monastery. It measures over thirty feet in circumference, a clear ten feet across the mouth. One would need long arms to stir this in the middle. As a rule the most beautiful views in Korea are in the vicinity of the monasteries, for they are always surrounded by fine trees. Not a few of them are built in the midst of grand forests of deciduous trees, where the foreigner goes when he wishes to hunt. They are the retreat of deer, wild boar and leopards. The most famous monasteries in Korea are those in Diamond Mountain, a cluster of ​peaks near the central eastern part of the peninsula. They are celebrated even in China, and thousands of pilgrims have sought for merit by dragging their weary limbs all the way to this holy place. Arriving at the foot of the mountains, on the west side the traveller has to dispense with his pony and go on foot or in a rude chair carried by two men. One foreign traveller describes it as a very rough road, over which one has to pass by jumping the crevices in the rocks or walking across on a single stick of wood for a bridge. He says there were "rocks around which one has to wind his way by clinging to their irregularities for fear of falling into the stream below, rocks over which the water roars and falls in beautiful cataracts; rocks covered with the Chinese names of visitors who had passed that way, these carved names forming the only foothold on the slippery surface; rocks which the monks have rendered passable only by drilling holes, driving pegs and laying logs above them; rocks on which are perched little shrines or on which are carved huge bas-reliefs of Buddhas ninety feet high and thirty feet broad at the base; and above all the towering cliffs and peaks of the parent mountain." Several flourishing monasteries are passed on the way up the steep valley, for here, if nowhere else, Buddhism seems to have some show of vitality left. After a long, steep climb the summit of the range is passed, and below this the traveller comes to the U-cham Monastery. The writer already quoted says, "Passing the cemetery with its oddly shaped stones, we were shown the pools said to have been the bathingplace of the dragons in olden times. They are nothing but ordinary pot-holes. ... In the temple itself there are fifty-three idols, seated upon what is supposed to represent the upturned roots of a tree. Below are three hideous dragons. The story goes that when the fifty-three monks from India came to introduce Buddhism into Korea they came here and sat down beside a wall under a nurcum tree. As they sat there, behold, three dragons came out from the well and attacked them. The animals called upon the winds to help them, and a violent gust blew ​over the tree. The monks, not to be outdone, placed their images of Buddha on the roots of the tree, making an altar of what was intended for their destruction. The dragons were finally driven back into the well, upon which the monks piled stones and later built the monastery and temple. In proof of the story the monks show the place further down the hill where the water from the well flows out. These are probably the same dragons that bathe in the pools mentioned above. In the morning a young monk took me on a tour of inspection, and I had a good opportunity to see the occupants of a first-class monastery in their private apartments. These consisted of a large living room and a number of cells just large enough to lie down in. All were very clean. Each cell contained the shrine of its occupant. They all seemed to be studying industriously, and they apparently lived a happy, peaceful life compared with that of the ordinary Korean. This is, however, only their place of refuge, and each must seek the means of support by pilgrimages over rough Korean roads and through dirty Korean towns, where he receives ' low talk ' from the very slaves, and begs for a living. Some probably have rich relatives who help them liberally." It is also true that many of these most celebrated monasteries have broad rice-lands, which are tilled for them by the farmers in the vicinity, the latter receiving part of the crop in payment. So far as my observation goes, there are very few monasteries that depend entirely upon charity for support. There are all sorts of ceremonies which the people are willing to pay for, such as prayers for the dead. The common people make no special distinction between the Buddhist rites and those of the despised mudang and pansu. The social level of the monk is little if any higher than that of the pansu, and it depends entirely upon the fancy of the petitioner whether he patronises the one or the other. Of course the temple with its curious carvings, its dim corners and its weird paintings adds impressiveness to the ceremony, and also adds to the price that must be paid. It is the wealthier class that patronise the monastery, not because of ​
A BOUNDARY STONE
The "rubbing" of" a tablet which marked the north limit of the ancient kingdom of Silla
The discussion of Korean relics would be incomplete without a reference to the curious structures which are found in various parts of the north, and to which we give the name dolmen for want of a better. One of these consists of two huge stones set on edge to form the opposite sides of an enclosure, and across the top is laid another. The upper stone is a veritable monolith, being often fifteen feet square and two feet thick. The space enclosed is about eight feet long, five feet wide and five feet high, and the most natural conclusion is that it must be some form of sepulture; but, though the back of the space is sometimes closed with a stone, the front is always open, nor have any bones been found in any of them. There is not a word about these curious monuments in Korean history, and the only explanation that the people give is that they were built long ago to keep back the powers of the mountains, who would otherwise invade the lowlands. These stones are always partially covered with earth, and there is no doubt that originally they were entirely covered. They are often found in the midst of wide plains, and the imagination is taxed to account for the method by which those rude people moved the huge stones from the hills to their present places. I incline strongly to the opinion that they are very ancient graves, in spite of the fact that no bones are found; for even in the Koryu graves, which are quite authentic and from which so much rude pottery is taken, no bones are found, not even the skull. This shows that six or seven hundred years will suffice to cause a complete disintegration of human bones, at least in Korean soil. These dolmens are much more ancient than any Koryu grave, and the argument is so much the more conclusive. Much still remains to be done by way of excavation and examination of these relics, but the Koreans are so superstitious that little can be done at present.
All about the country there are enormous carved figures, which the Koreans call miryŏk. Some of them are Buddhas, ​but not all. It was doubtless in the Koryu dynasty, the palmy days of Buddhism, that money was forthcoming to carry out these costly works. The great statue in the town of Eunjin stands seventy feet high or more, and the great slab of stone on its head measures some twelve feet in length. Between Seoul and Songdo two great rock figures look down upon the traveller from the heights. One is a male figure and the other a female, and whether they are distinctly Buddhistic or not has never been settled. Korean fancy weaves the most curious stories about these images. The ones last referred to are said to have been carved by a wealthy gentleman of the neighbourhood who was so troubled by beggars, whose solicitations he had not the heart to repulse, that he begged someone to tell him how he could secure peace. An aged stranger passing by told him if he would carve the two rocks, that stood up like needles near his house, into the shape of a man and a woman, he would never be troubled by beggars again. He hastened to comply, but before he had finished he found that his own wealth was exhausted, and he discovered too late that this was the reason why beggars would trouble him no more. A still more romantic tale is told of a great miry ok in the south. A needy but ambitious gentleman was tramping up to Seoul to take the national examination. He found this great image in the heart of a forest, and from a fissure in its head he perceived a pear-tree to be growing. On the tree hung a pear as large as a man's head. If he could secure it and take it as a gift to the King, his fortune would be made. He climbed up the lofty image by means of the bushes and vines that grew about it until he reached the lips, but there was no way to get over the huge nose that hung out over him. He determined to crawl up one of the nostrils, hoping to find a way through to the top; so he wormed his way up with knees and elbows till he reached the point where the nostril contracts.
SYMBOLS OF KOREA'S RELIGION
The upper picture shows the great stone Buddha at Eunjin. The lower picture presents the "Devil Post" on right and pile of stones in centre, on which each traveller throws one more "for luck." On extreme left is a bush to which rags, cash, fish-heads, and other things are tied to please the spirits
He fell into the thick bushes and lost consciousness, but recovered later, only to find, to his joy, that the same cataclysm which had hurled him down had also dislodged the pear, which lay at his feet. He took it to Seoul, and by its help reached that Mecca of all Koreans, official position.
But besides the genuine relics that may be found in Korea, there are a host of others that exist in the imagination of the people and exercise a powerful influence upon their thought. For instance, there is the jade flute, which is supposed to be kept at Kyong-ju in the archives of ancient Silla, and which cannot be played upon if it is taken to any other place. So firmly do the Koreans believe in this flute that they say the late regent had it brought up to Seoul, and that the present Emperor, when a boy, accidentally broke it. The regent is said to have mended it with a silver band. It is thus that the Koreans weave about the most impossible tales a web of circumstance, giving them a certain verisimilitude that might easily deceive the uninitiated. There is also the celebrated medicine stone in Pochun, which was once polished as smooth as glass, and if anyone looked into this as into a mirror he would discover from what disease he was suffering. The Koreans firmly believe that somewhere in one of the old palaces in Seoul there lie three hundred dried-up skins of Japanese unmarried females. These, they say, were exacted as an indemnity from the Japanese at the end of the great invasion of 1592. The story is that the Japanese were compelled to agree to send this number every year, but that after the first year the Koreans out of pity remitted the tribute. There is about as much sense in this statement as there is in the claim put forth by the Japanese that Korea ever paid tribute to that kingdom. It looks as if the story of these skins was invented as an offset to the fact that the Japanese sent thousands of Korean noses and ears to Japan during the days of that invasion. The falsity of the Korean story does them more credit than the truth of the Japanese story does the Japanese. ​The Koreans will tell you that there lies buried in the sands on the southern coast the hull of the famous tortoise boat with which Admiral Yi Sun-sin won his famous naval battles over the Japanese, and Ensign George C. Foulk of the American navy, who was making a trip in southern Korea at the time of the emeute of 1884, told the writer that the remains of a boat were pointed out to him as being the authentic " tortoise boat." This was of course another case of vivid imagination on the part of the Koreans. It may be that there is more truth in the statement that in the storehouse of the old fortress of Namhan there lies the original mortar which the Koreans invented to throw bombs into the Japanese forts. The story of the invention of this weapon is told in all good faith, and the records say that when it was fired the whole thing leaped over the wall and fell among the Japanese soldiers; and when they crowded around to see what it was, it exploded and destroyed a score of men. It seems clear that they had some sort of weapon resembling the bomb and mortar, and if so they may have been the first inventors of it.
It is said that there is a cave about thirty miles south of Seoul called " The Death Cave." In the days of the great invasion, three centuries ago, about a thousand Koreans took refuge in this place, but the Japanese built a huge fire at its mouth and suffocated them all. Since that time no Korean has ever ventured into the cave for fear of the spirits of the dead.
Many questions have been asked about the tombs in which golden-coffined kings lie, and which the vandal Oppert came to rob in 1867. The Koreans say that Oppert and his crew were friends of the Roman Catholic priests who had been killed here the preceding year, and that Oppert came to rifle the grave of the father of the regent in revenge. This was not true. The expedition was a purely predatory one, and the object of it was to find the gold and treasure that were supposed to lie in the tombs on Tabong Mountain. The amusing thing about it is that these are not royal graves, but merely the place where, ​according to immemorial custom, the placentae of royal births have been buried. The writer had a conversation in 1887 with an old man in Nagasaki who had formed one of this expedition, and lie corroborated the statement of the Koreans that a heavy and unusual fog hung over the country on that day and prevented the carrying out of the plan. Such a powerful impression did this outrage make upon the Koreans that they composed a popular song about it which says:
Yanggukeui chajin attǎ
Wheanpong tora deunda.
The thick fog of the Westerners
Broods over Whean Peak.