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Corea: The Hermit Nation

Chapter 55: CHAPTER XXXV. PROVERBS AND PITHY SAYINGS.
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About This Book

A sweeping survey traces the peninsula's development from ancient and medieval eras through political, social, and modern transformations. It examines governing institutions, family and religious practices, education, economic activities, arts, military organization, and the details of urban and rural life. The narrative addresses foreign relations and encounters with other nations, missionary and reform movements, and the internal responses to external pressures. A concluding chapter analyzes the causes and consequences of the loss of independent sovereignty and the challenges of administration under new authority.

[Contents]

CHAPTER XXXV.

PROVERBS AND PITHY SAYINGS.

Shut off, as they are, from the rest of the world, like fish in a well, the Coreans nevertheless have coined a fair share of homely wisdom, which finds ready circulation in their daily speech. Their proverbs not only bear the mint-mark of their origin, but reflect truly the image and superscription of those who send them forth. Many, indeed, of their current proverbs and pithy expressions are of Japanese or Chinese origin, but those we have selected are mainly of peninsular birth, and have the flavor of the soil.

Do the Coreans place the seat of wisdom as they do the point of vaccination, in the nose? They ask, “Who has a nose three feet long?” which means, “If one is embarrassed, how can he put others at ease?” Evidently they have a wholesome regard for that member. A “nose of iron” describes an opinionated man and suggests unlimited “cheek.” A common expression of the Christians, meaning to go to church and pray, is “to see the long nose of the father”—that feature of the French priest’s face being looked upon with awe as the seat of wisdom.

Between the rivals, Japan and China, Corea probably sees herself in this proverb of the unhappy cur that wanders boneless between two kitchens—the cook in each supposing it has been fed by the other. “The dog which between two monasteries gets nothing.”

Corea’s isolation is “like a fish in a well,” or “like a hermit in the market-place.” They say of a secluded villager, “He knows nothing beyond the place which he inhabits.”

“One stick to ten blind men,” is something very precious.

“The cock of the village in a splendid city mansion,” is the bumpkin in the capital.

“To have a cake in each hand,” is to know not which to eat first—to be in a quandary.

“A volcano under the snow,” is a man of amiable manners who conceals a violent temper. [318]

“The treasure which always circulates without an obstacle,” is “cash,” or sapeks.

“An apricot-blossom in the snow,” is said when something rare and marvellous happens.

“To blow away the hair to see if there is a scar,” is to look for a mote in another man’s eye, and to hunt for defects.

“As difficult as the roads of Thibet,” is evidently a reminiscence derived from the ancient Buddhist missionaries who came from that region.

“To put on a silk dress to travel at night,” is to do a good action and not have it known.

Some pithy sayings show the local gauge of sense. “He does not know silver from lead,” “He has round eyes,” “He can’t tell cheese from wheat,” He is an idiot. “Doesn’t know lu from yu.” This last refers to two Corean letters, jot and tittle.

“As opposed as fire and water.”

“A buckskin man,” is a man of no will or backbone.

“To have a big hand,” means to be liberal.

“A great blue sea,” refers to something very difficult, with no end to it and no way out of it.

A man who is “not known in all the eight coasts,” is an utter stranger.

A very sick person is “a man who holds disease in his arms.”

“A bag of diseases,” is a chronic patient

“Who can tell in seeing a crow flying whether it be male or female?” is a question referring to the impossible.

The numeral 10,000 (man) plays a great part in proverbial sayings as “10,000 times certain.” Corea is a “land of 10,000 peaks.” Certain success is “10,000 chances against one.” “To die 10,000 times and not be regretted,” is to be “worthy of 10,000 deaths.” Ten thousand sorrows means great grief. A mountain is “10,000 heights of a man high.” “Ten thousand strings of cash,” is a priceless amount. Man-nin are 10,000 people—all the people in the universe.

“To lose one’s hands,” is to make a fiasco.

A comet is an “arrow star.”

“A hundred battles make a veteran.”

Almost as poetical as the Greek “anarithma gelasma” (unnumbered laughings) is this Corean description of the sea—“Ten thousand flashings of blue waves.” [319]

“To lose both at a time,” is a proverb founded on a native love-story.

“When a raven flies from a pear-tree, a pear falls”—appearances are deceitful, don’t hazard a guess.

“If one lifts a stone, the face reddens.” The Coreans are fond of rival feats of lifting. Heavy stones are kept for that purpose. “Results are proportionate to effort put forth.”

Mosquitoes are lively and jubilantly hungry in Chō-sen, yet it does not do to fight them with heavy weapons or “seize a sabre to kill a mosquito.”

A very poor man is thus described: “He eats only nine times in a month,” or “He eats only three times in ten days.” To say he is in the depths of poverty is to mention the pathetic fact that “he has extinguished his fire;” for “he looks to the four winds and finds no friend.”

“The right and left are different,” is said of a hypocrite who does not speak as he thinks.

When a man is not very bright he “has mist before his eyes;” or he “carries his wits under his arms;” or has “hidden his soul under his arm-pits,” or he “goes to the east and goes to the west when he is bothered.”

Like Beaconsfield’s dictum—“Critics are men who have failed in literature and art,” is this Corean echo, “Good critic, bad worker.”

“On entering a village to know its usages,” is our “When in Rome do as the Romans do.”

“To destroy jade and gravel together,” refers to indiscriminate destruction.

“Without wind and without cloud,” describes a serene life.

“Go to sea,” is a provincial malediction heavier than a tinker’s, and worse than “Go to grass.”

“I am I, and another is another,” is a formula of selfish, and Corean for “ego et non ego,” “I and not I.”

“A poor horse has always a thick tail”—talent and capacity are badly located.

The large number of morals pointed and tales adorned by the tiger are referred to elsewhere. [320]