Subscribe
E-Paper
 |
| A street in Seoul in the winter of 1883/84. Robert Neff Collection |
By Robert Neff
For many people, one of the most important days of their life is their wedding. The romantic idea of a luxurious wedding ceremony, witnessed by large numbers of friends and family, and celebrated with fine food, drink and music, may have been the dream of many young American couples in the 1880s. But that was an impossibility for Horace G. Underwood (a missionary) and Lillias Horton (the Korean queen's Western physician).
On March 13, 1889, the two were married in a quiet ceremony in the missionary's small house. There were no family members present ― just their telegrams ― although witnessing their joyful event were a number of Korean palace women (shielded behind screens so that they could not be seen by the men) and the small Western community of Seoul.
It was a rather simple ― yet, unique ― affair. However, it was the honeymoon that proved to be especially interesting. Horace proposed to go on an extensive trip throughout the northern part of the peninsula. It was unheard of. Their friends tried to talk them out of it, but they refused to listen to reason. Lillias was determined to be "the first woman who has 'really' traveled in Korea."
Martha Huntley, the author of "To Start a Work," described the bride as being "small, even tiny; in fact, she was just [the Korean queen's] size, less than 5 feet tall, and she wore size 5 gloves and 1½ shoes. Lillias appeared frail, but she was fiercely resolute."
 |
| A palanquin, similar to the one taken by Lillias Underwood in 1889. Robert Neff Collection |
Of course, a large sum of money would be needed for this jaunt into the wilds of the Korean interior ― fortunately, on the morning of the wedding, the money arrived as a gift from the Korean queen. Several years later, Lillias recalled:
'[The] jingling bells of many pack-ponies were heard in our courtyard, and I soon discovered that quite a train of little animals had arrived with the gift from her majesty. One million in cash! It sounds like Arabian Nights, but as at that time 2,500 to 3,000 cash went into the making of a dollar. It was not, after all, more than a generous Korean queen might easily give, or a missionary easily dispose of."
Apparently the passage of time doubled the queen's generosity, as a casual observer, who witnessed the event, claimed the amount given was only 500,000 cash.
 |
| The South Gate of Kaeseong. Circa 1900s. Robert Neff Collection |
The newlyweds departed Seoul at dawn on March 14, 1889. It must have been a curious sight for the Koreans who encountered them on the road ― a Westerner astride a white Korean horse ― "the orthodox animal for such occasions in Korea"; several ponies (laden with supplies, books, blankets and "a small Scotch oven") and their "mabu" (horse handlers); a "kisu" (Korean guard); two servants (one a personal assistant and the other a cook); and four laborers bearing the two-man chair or palanquin in which Lillias rode. The box-like palanquin was made with bamboo and oiled-paper. It was brilliantly painted "with windows of stained glass on either side" and with a curtain in the front [which] could be raised or buttoned down to keep out the chill or the disagreeable piercing eyes of the curious sightseers…" The interior was made comfortable with the addition of cushions and hot water bottles. She would later embarrassingly confess, "I felt positively steeped in luxury and quite too much babyfied for a hardy missionary."
Her chair-bearers were, according to Lillias, "a very rough set of customers, and undoubtedly got us into trouble on more than one occasion." They were powerful men with great physical stamina who enjoyed playing practical jokes on one another, as well as sharing "long and fishy yarns." Their favorite targets for their tales of wonder were the residents of the small villages where the Underwood party stopped for the night. "They aroused the awe and admiration" of the villagers with their exaggerations, including the claim that the Underwoods had a small boat in their baggage that could be transformed into a large boat merely by blowing into it. Perhaps no inflatable bathtub had been described so majestically.
 |
| The frozen Daedong River near Pyongyang. Robert Neff Collection |
In the vicinity of Seoul, the country people they encountered seemed relatively uninterested in the party, "for having seen 'foreigners' a few times they [didn't] take the trouble to 'look again,' assigning as reason, 'They all look exactly alike.'"
They generally spent their nights in small rustic inns where they were usually provided with the best room, but sleep did not come easily.
"Numbers of dogs, cats, chickens, pigs and ducks are under foot in the courtyard, oxen and ponies are noisily feeding in the stalls, under the same roof with ourselves, only just outside the paper door, and if one is to sleep, it must be in spite of combined grunting, squealing, cackling, blowing and barking, anything but conducive to repose."
Noise wasn't the only barrier to a restful sleep. The floors were unbearably hot so they were forced to construct their beds on piles of straw and clothing in order to escape the heat. Then they suffered frequent attacks by fleas, lice and bedbugs. They often had to get up in the middle of the night and move their bedding in a feeble attempt to avoid the heat and pests. "We never did this more than three times in one night, and it was a mere diversion."
 |
| A large crowd of Korean laborers in Pyongyang, circa 1904/05. Courtesy of the Diane Nars Collection |
Most of the handful of Westerners in Seoul thought the Underwoods would go no farther than the "pleasant city" of Songdo (modern Kaeseong), but they were wrong. The Underwoods doggedly pushed on and within a couple of days arrived at Pyongyang ― "the place where grows the Bartlett pear of Korea."
Unlike in Songdo and the smaller villages, they were met by large noisy crowds of curious onlookers. A casual observer wrote, Pyongyang "is a lively city and is not bothered with over-politeness. The excitement was immense at seeing a foreign lady. The whole city was moved."
Lillias wrote: "We were no sooner within the city gates than a very noisy and constantly increasing crowd followed close at our heels, growing ever more annoying and demonstrative, till its dimensions and behavior were altogether too much like a mob."
 |
| A gate in the Pyongyang area, circa 1900s. Robert Neff Collection |
This crowd was not only unnerving, but also hampered their efforts to find lodging as the startled innkeepers barred their entry for fear of the possible damage to their establishment by the curious mob. With the sky darkening and the promise of rain in the air, the Underwoods began to worry they would be forced to spend the night in the streets. Finally, and with the aid of a Korean police officer, they found a room.
Unfortunately, we don't know much about their stay in Pyongyang. In her book, Lillias noted that it rained for almost the entire time during their week-long stay. When it was raining, she could not easily go out and explore the city because, "if I so much as peeped out, someone caught sight of the foreign woman, and at once a crowd gathered, which made it impossible to move or to accomplish anything."
Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books including, Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.
