The innocent faces of Korean boys in the late 19th century / Robert Neff Collection

Anna Northend Benjamin's observations and venomous pen were not confined to just Korean women; she also commented on the lives of Korean children — more specifically, boys.

"Korean children are the least fortunate, or the most fortunate — according to one's point of view — of any children of the Far East, for in this hermit kingdom education is not compulsory, and the average small boy or girl grows up with little instruction," she bombastically declared.

She described the children's homes as nothing more than "a little hut with mud walls," its roof thatched with straw which was held in place by ropes stretched across and tied down. Many of these homes had only a single room — about nine square meters — and their walls were covered with plaster and paper and the floor layered with matting — thin and coarsely woven. "The ceiling is low; it would be considered a waste of time and material to make it of any height, for the people who live in this little house rarely stand up in it." The floor, she explained, was used to sit on during the day and to sleep on at night — the room and house had no other function except storage.

Early Westerners frequently referred to Korea as "the land of naked children." Robert Neff Collection

In an almost backhanded compliment, she praised the homes as being very warm, "even during the severe cold of the winter" — and noted Japanese and Chinese homes were, in contrast, quite cold. Korean homes were thoroughly heated by the ondol system, a series of flues beneath the floor that carried warm air and smoke from the kitchen fire. But there were drawbacks to this system — smoke and intense heat could sometimes be hard to regulate.

"The fire is often so hot that Koreans are sometimes blistered by it while asleep in the night, and since it is also used for the family cooking, it is kept throughout the summer when the heat is great," she described.

Benjamin then turned her attention to the appearance of Korean boys and their white clothing: "[His] outfit consists of loose trousers stuck into heavy socks padded with cotton wool all the year round. The rest of his clothes are also padded in this way in winter. A short loose jacket with full sleeves completes his costume."

While this description was relatively accurate, it contrasted greatly with those of her peers — including Isabella Bird Bishop who disparagingly wrote that the streets of Fusan (modern Busan) were filled with "mangy dogs and blear-eyed children, half or wholly naked, and scaly with dirty, roll in the deep dust or slime, or pant and blink in the sun, apparently unaffected by the stenches which abound."

A Korean boy's second-greatest joy was "eating the meals prepared by his hard working mother." Robert Neff Collection

While Benjamin's initial description was somewhat benign, she could not resist commenting on the perceived filthiness of Korean boys — and by extension, the general Korean population. After a boy has worn his white clothing for "a few days, the white part belongs entirely to the imagination. Think of his wearing one suit for a month!"

On the other hand, many early Western visitors were actually impressed by the attention the average Korean paid to their clothing. Koreans spent considerable sums of money on their clothing and were fastidious about keeping them clean. Benjamin acknowledged this, but noted it was only after the boy became an adult.

Despite her initial harsh criticisms, Benjamin's opinion of Korean boys softened and took on a defensive, almost maternal, tone. She declared they "lead the thoughtless kind of existence which was common to boys in all parts of the world." She added that one of the greatest pleasures for a Korean boy was "to follow a foreigner, crying at the top of his voice: ‘Foreign lady — or man — are you well?'" It was harmless behavior and, she noted, "much more polite than the epithets in which Chinese children indulge on similar occasions."

There may have been some truth to this observation. Korean boys were notorious for following Western sailors around the ports — not to practice their English but to bum a cigarette or a small amount of tobacco. When their requests were refused, they often hurled "a volley of British oaths" (acquired from earlier encounters with sailors) and occasionally stones — with alarming accuracy.

Wearing glasses to be seen / Robert Neff Collection

Aside from harassing foreigners, perhaps the second-greatest pleasure to a Korean boy was eating. When Frank G. Carpenter, an American travel writer, visited Korea in 1888, he wrote: "a big stomach is an honor … [and] mothers, in order to increase the size of the stomachs of their babies, stuff them day after day with rice, paddling them on the stomach to press down the contents to make room for more."

Carpenter's exaggerated account was clearly written to amuse his readers whereas Benjamin's was more understated and endearing. She noted that at an early age, the Korean boy "learns to use the brass chopsticks, and shovels in rice very fast from his brass or china bowl. Sometimes there will be pickles or bits of meat and on great occasions something sweet. The meals are served on a low wooden stand or table, set within the doorway of the house."

But these were the pursuits of boys — although men, too, had voracious appetites and were known to pester foreigners for tobacco. At some point in a Korean male's life — often sooner rather than later — marriage transformed him from a Korean boy into a man. His long, loosely braided hair was cut and styled into a sang-to (topknot), "held in place by a sort of net of bamboo or horsehair. Over all he wears one of the famous transparent black hats made of the same material."

Wearing glasses to see / Robert Neff Collection

From this moment on, his attitude towards his personal hygiene depended on whether or not he rose to "official dignity." Although Benjamin did not mention the common man, we can infer from the tone of her earlier descriptions that they remained unkempt. However, if he was of the gentry or was a scholar, "he [took] pride in the immaculate appearance of his outer garments at least, and to further increase his dignity [wore] a pair of enormous goggles of horn or shell, which probably took his last cent to purchase.

She was not exaggerating about the cost (up to $100 — a very princely sum in the 19th century) or the importance of the goggles. In the late 1890s, James Scarth Gale, a missionary, vividly described a Korean scholar:

"In immaculate white he emerges from the holes and corners of every mud village. If he is an official of importance, he does not walk alone, but is assisted by the arms on each side. If he ventures by himself, it is with a magnificent stride that clears the street of indifferent passers, and commands only on-lookers. In one hand is a pipe three feet long, in the other a fan; over his eyes two immense discs of dark crystal, not to assist him in seeing, but to insure his being seen. How precious these are! Many a man will forego the necessaries of life if only he can gain a pair of Kyung-ju (spectacles), and so cover himself with glory before an on-looking assemblage."

Interestingly, Benjamin never mentioned the Korean propensity to smoke nor the importance of the ever-present pipe — not just for men, but for women and children as well. In the 1890s, George W. Gilmore, an American teacher in Seoul, observed:

"The use of tobacco is universal, even boys and women are using the weed. A part of the dress of a Korean is his tobacco-pouch, his flint, steel and tinder or his matches. Without it, he never goes abroad…"

However, tobacco was not the only subject conspicuously missing from Benjamin's accounts of Korea. Despite being an early feminist, she wrote almost nothing about Korean girls. Perhaps she intended on doing so later, when she had more time, but unfortunately, Benjamin's time ran out on Jan. 2, 1902, when she suddenly passed away from cancer at the age of 27.

"The use of tobacco is universal, even boys and women are using the weed." Robert Neff Collection

Following her death, the New York Tribune wrote:

"Miss Benjamin's personality was interesting. She seemed utterly unlike a woman who would have the courage to go through the experiences which she so eagerly sought. She was slight and girlish in appearance, and had none of the self-assertiveness which some might expect in a woman war correspondent. Indeed, her demeanor was quiet and retiring to the point of apparent timidity. Doubtless her very femininity was a great aid to her, for army officers and others were glad to help her when they would have turned a deaf ear to a more pushing, belligerent type of woman. In spite of her almost shy way, she usually managed to obtain privileges which she sought."

Like her Korean articles, perceptions of Benjamin were full of contrasts. To some, she was a dowdy old feminist war correspondent, while others saw her as a timid, shy young woman who skillfully — and without shame — used her femininity to achieve her goals. Regardless of the perspective, I think everyone, including the grumpy conservative American minister to Korea, Horace N. Allen, would agree that she was an intriguing woman who died far too early.

I would like to thank Diane Nars for her invaluable assistance.

Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books, including Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.