Corea: The Hermit Nation

The one royal quadruped associated with Corea, as the white elephant is with Siam, the bison with the United States, or the dromedary with Egypt, is the tiger. Unlike his relative in India that roams in the hot jungles and along the river bottoms, the Corean “king of the mountains” is seen oftenest in the snow and forests of the north, ranging as far as the fiftieth parallel.

Both actually and ideally the tiger is the symbol of power and fierceness. The flag of the tiger-hunters, from the northern provinces of Ping-an or Ham-kiung, who so bravely faced the rifles of the United States marines and sailors in “our little war with the heathen,” in 1871, was a winged tiger rampant, spitting fire, holding the lightnings in his lifted fore-claws, and thus embodying the powers of earth, air, and heaven. It reminds one of the winged leopard in the vision of Daniel, “After this, I beheld, and lo another like a leopard, which had upon the back of it four wings of a fowl.” It is the tutelary genius of the descendants of the aboriginal worshippers of the tiger, who even yet cling to the religion of the soil.1 [321]

The caps of the body-guard of the sovereign are decorated with the cheek and whiskers of the tiger, in order to inspire terror among beholders. The Corean beauty carries among the jewelry and “charms” in the reticule at her waist, a claw of the dreaded pem or tiger, nor can the hardy mountaineer put in the hand of his bride a more eloquent proof of his valor than one of these weapons of a man-eater. It means even more than the edelweiss of other mountain lands. On the floors of the better class of houses the tiger-skin rug not only adorns the best room, but makes the children’s play-ground, or the baby’s cushion in lieu of cradles, which are unknown. The soft hair of these natural rugs is often a finger long. Curious toys are made of the fur.

The most prized articles among the tribute offerings (in these days, rather a “bonus” or bribe, than a tax or humiliation) presented at the court of Peking, as of old at Kiōto or Yedo, are these gorgeous pelts. One of them, which the writer saw recently, the property of a Japanese merchant, measured twelve feet long, exclusive of the tail. The symbol of military rank in old Japan, as indicative as our shoulder-straps, was a tiger-skin scabbard. Especially was it honorable to wear it if captured with one’s own hands on “frontier service.” The hair of these animals seems to have more of a woolly quality than those from India, while the orange tint is far less predominant, white taking its place. The black bars are, however, of equal magnificence with the tropical product, and the tail seems to be rather longer. Some idea of the great numbers and awful ravages of these huge felidæ in the two northern provinces of the Peninsular Kingdom, may be gained from the common saying of the Chinese that “the Coreans hunt the tiger during one half the year and the tigers hunt the Coreans during the other half.” The Coreans retort by the proverb born of the desolation that has so often followed the presence of a Chinese army on their soil, whether as invaders or allies: “After the Chinese, the tigers.” As a single man can create the gigantic spectre of the Brocken, so in the national literature this one animal seems to have cast a measureless shadow of evil influence upon this hermit nation. From the most ancient times it has been an object of religious reverence. “They also worshipped the tiger, which they looked on as a god,” was written of the people living on the sea of Japan before the Christian era. “They had also the many-spotted leopard.” A few of the national proverbs will illustrate the amount of attention which the subject receives [322]in daily life, in art, religion, and language, and how often it serves to point the morals and adorn the tales told around Corean hearths. “A wooden tiger,” is the ass in the lion’s skin.

“A broken-backed tiger” describes impotent and raging malice.

“To give wings to a tiger,” is to add shrewdness to force.

“If you don’t enter the tiger’s lair, you can’t get her cubs,” is said to spur on the faint heart, “to beard the tiger in his cave.”

“A tiger’s repast,” describes excess in eating, or the gorging which follows after fasting. “To nourish a tiger, and have him devour you,” probably states a common fact of history, as well as it depicts ingratitude. “If you tread on the tail of a tiger, you’ll know it,” explains itself. “It is hard to let go the tail of a tiger,” suggests our “fire” after the “frying-pan,” or the “other horn of the dilemma;” while over-cautious people “in avoiding a deer, meet a tiger.” Men of irascible temper or violent disposition are given the pet name of maing-ho, which means an unusually ferocious tiger or “man-eater.”

Corean shrewdness utilizes the phenomena of local experience, and equals the craft of the sellers of Joseph. So common is the disappearance of a villager through visitations of the tiger, that the standard method of escaping creditors or processes of law is to leave bits of one’s torn clothes in the woods, and then to abscond. Obliging friends or relatives quickly report, “Devoured by a tiger,” and too often it is believed that “Joseph is without doubt rent in pieces.” This local substitute for our former G. T. T., or the usual trip to Europe, is especially fashionable in places where “tigers as big as a mountain” are plentiful. To drive away the dreaded kal-pem, the people invoke the aid of the tu-e′, a fabulous monster, which is the enemy of the tiger, and which the latter greatly fears. The cry of his name tu-e′, tu-e′, is believed to act as a charm, and is often raised by villagers at night.

In art, though the native picture-maker may draw a lion in such preposterous shape and with such impossible attributes as to show at once that no living model was ever before his eyes, yet in those pictures of the tiger drawn by Corean artists which we have examined, accuracy and vigor of treatment predominate over artistic grace.

The hunters who are familiar with every habit, trait of character, and physical detail of the species, carefully distinguish his parts and varieties. Ho-rang-i is the generic name for the felis tigris. Kal-pem, is a mature fellow in full claw, scratchy and [323]ferocious. Maing-ho is a large one of unusual size and in the full rampancy of his vigor. Mil-pal is an old brute that can no longer scratch, and is most probably mangy, and well gouged and scarred from numerous household quarrels and frequent tussles with rivals. Pi-ho is one agile in turning tail to escape, rather than in showing teeth to fight—the term being sometimes applied to the leopard. San-tol is a huge fellow that makes annual visits to one place, making his lightning strike more than once in the same spot. Siyo-ho is a little, and hal-pem is a female, tiger. A “stone” tigress is sterile. Special terms suggestive, and even poetical, for the murders, calamities, or ravages of the beast, for traps or ditches, for the skin, tail (used for banners and spear-sheaths), beard, moustaches, and the noises of purring, growling, nocturnal caterwauling, and even for lashing the tail, enrich and vivify the Chō-sen vocabulary.

Tiger-shooting is not a favorite sport among the nobles or young bloods. Hunting in general is considered a servile occupation. Nobles, except those of a few poor families in the northern provinces, never practise it as sport. Yet it is free to all. There are no game laws, no proscription of arms, no game preserves, no seasons interdicted.

The only animal which it is forbidden to kill is the falcon, whose life is protected by stringent laws. From the most ancient times this bird of the golden wing has been held in high honor. The hunting-grounds are almost entirely among the mountains, as the valleys are too densely occupied with rice and millet fields and cultivated soil, to allow game to exist or be hunted. The chief weapon used is the flint-lock, imported from Japan. With this a single hunter will attack the huge game, although the animal, when not immediately killed, leaps right upon his enemy and easily makes him his prey. When a tiger has caused great ravages in a district, the local magistrate calls together all the professional hunters and organizes a hunt in the mountains. In such cases, the chase is usually, and of intent, without results; for the skin is the property of the government, and the official always looks out for himself, coming in first for the spoils. Hence it is that a government hunt is usually a farce. Most of the tiger-hunters prefer to meet the royal game alone, for then the prized skin, which they sell secretly, is theirs. They eat the meat, and the bones stripped and boiled make various medicines.

The number of human lives lost, and the value of property [324]destroyed by their ravages, is so great as at times to depopulate certain districts. A hungry tiger will often penetrate a village in which the houses are well secured, and will prowl around a hovel or ill-secured dwelling, during several entire nights. If hunger presses he will not raise the siege until he leaps upon the thatched roof. Through the hole thus made by tearing through, he bounds upon the terrified household. In this case a hand-to-claw fight ensues, in which the tiger is killed or comes off victorious after glutting himself upon one or more human victims. Rarely, however, need this king of Corean beasts resort to this expedient, for such is the carelessness of the villagers that in spite of the man-eater’s presence in their neighborhood, they habitually sleep during the summer with the doors of their houses wide open, and oftentimes even in the sheds in the open fields without dreaming of taking the precaution to light a fire.

This sense of security is especially apt to follow after a grand hunt successfully pursued. Then the prey is supposed to have been all killed off in the vicinity or driven to the distant mountains. The Coreans are as careless of tigers as the Japanese are of fires. Sometimes the tiger is caught in a snare, without danger and by very simple means. A deep pit is covered over with branches, leaves, and earth. At the bottom a sharp stake is set up. This, however, is only rarely used. During the winter the snow is half frozen over and strong enough to bear the weight of a man, but is broken through by the paws of the tiger. The beast sinks to the belly, and not being able to move fast, or escape, is as helpless as a fly in molasses. It is then apparently quite easy to approach the creature at bay, though woe be to the hunter who is too sure of his prey. To be well-equipped for this method of mountain sport, the hunter must have a short sword, lance, and snow-shoes. These sel-mai, or racquettes, are of slightly curved elastic board, well fitted with loops and thongs. With dogs, trained to the work, the san-chang (lanceman) starts the game, and following up the trail usually finishes him with a thrust of his spear; or, in bravado, with a sword-stroke. This method of sport was the favorite one pursued by the Japanese invaders. Though occasionally a man-at-arms was chewed up, or clawed into ribbons, scores of glossy skins were carried back to Nippon as trophies by the veterans. Indeed, it may be said, to most Japanese children, the nearest country west of them has no other association in their minds than as a land of tigers. At Gensan, the [325]merchants from Tōkiō had their dreary homesickness, about the time of their first New Year’s season in the strange land, rather unpleasantly enlivened by the advent of several striped man-eaters. These promenaded the settlement at night, and seemed highly desirous of tasting a Japanese, after having already feasted on several natives. The prospect of playing Little Red Riding Hood to a whiskered man-eater was not a very pleasant experience, though a possible one at any time. A tiger ten feet long can easily stow away two five-feet Japanese without grievous symptoms of indigestion. For an untrained hand, even when armed with a Winchester breech-loader, to attempt hunting this Corean emblem of power is not attractive sport. The tiger is more apt to hunt the man, for elephants are not at hand to furnish the shelter of their backs. The Japanese do not seem to hanker after tiger-claws or skins while in the flesh, but prefer to buy for cash over their own counters at Gensan. The “crop” of these costly pelts averages five hundred a year at this one port.

Few experiences tend more to develop all the manly virtues than facing a tiger on foot in his native wilds. The Coreans know this, and in their lack of drilled troops capable of meeting the soldiers of Europe—their “army” consisting almost entirely of archers, spearmen, and jingal-firers—they summoned the tiger-hunters from Ping-an to fight the Frenchmen of Admiral Roze’s expedition of 1866. Underrating their enemy, the Frenchmen, in attempting to storm a fortified monastery garrisoned by the hunters, were completely defeated. When the marines and sailors of the American naval expedition of 1871 assaulted “Fort McKee,” after it had been swept by the shells of the fleet, they were amazed at the stern courage of their dark-visaged enemies, who, with matchlock, spear, and sword, fought against the shells and breech-loaders to the last. The Americans speak admiringly of these brave fellows, so worthy of their lead and steel. [326]