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A stone battle in 1902 / Courtesy of Robert Neff Collection |
By Robert Neff
In late February 1891, the streets of Seoul -- especially the Jongno area -- were battlefields for young boys. The combatants, some as young as eight, were divided into two teams of roughly the same size and armed with small wooden clubs and bags of polished stones. They participated in "sokchon" (stone battles) -- traditionally held 15 days after the Lunar New Year.
Encouraged by their parents and spectators, the two teams surged forward swinging clubs and throwing stones. As club or stone found its mark, flesh bruised and bones broke while the screams of pain from the boys and shouts of excitement from the spectators filled the air.
Eventually one side was forced from the field of battle -- the victors were showered with praise and presents while the losers were belittled and made their way home to tend their wounds in humiliation.
While stone battles among boys were somewhat entertaining, the most popular of these battles involved the men. These stone battles took place on the eastern side of the city and were large affairs involving hundreds of combatants and possibly thousands of spectators -- even the royal palace was kept appraised of the results. Like the boys, the adult combatants were armed with stones (polished and rounded by boys), iron and wooden cudgels, armor of twisted straw, wooden shields and leather caps for helmets.
The battle went on for hours, with "incessant showers of stones" followed by sallies of club-wielders. The tide of battle ebbed back and forth and the injuries were horrendous: broken bones and noses, shattered teeth, bruised bodies and, not surprisingly, there were often casualties. Husbands, sons and brothers died in these games, but no one was punished for their deaths as they were deemed unavoidable accidents.
Sometimes villages battled villages. One Western observer described a pitched battle that broke out between Yongsan and a nearby village (possibly Mapo):
"After a few sharp skirmishes, the forces closed in and settled down to business. It was evident from the first that there were some old scores to be settled that day, or at any rate that amusement was not the only motive. Men rarely work in such a fashion for the fun of the thing. Before long, the Yongsan party began to gain ground. A yell went up that made the very earth tremble. The enemy broke and fled, but Yongsan was right on their heels.
"Away they went leaping the deep ditches or falling into them, and scrambling up the other side and away again right through the marshy paddy fields, never mind the shoes! There is no time to stop to recover them. A whole skin is better than a pair of straw shoes. On they sweep right up to the outskirts of the defeated party's village.
"Here they surely will stop. But no! Right up to the houses the pursuers push, and lay their hands on anything, wood, tiles, fence, hedge, anything that is vulnerable! A door wrenched off its hinges is a laudable achievement, anything to indicate ‘Yongsan -- his mark.'
"But by this time the whole village is up, and the victors know it is time for them to be moving back. And they are fortunate if they get back with whole heads. Such scenes are enacted daily during the ‘season,' and an exciting sport it must be."
The witness ended his observation by noting that broken bones and even heads were unimportant -- the only thing that was important was that we all "must have amusement."
Robert Neff is a historian and columnist for The Korea Times. He can be reached at robertneff103@gmail.com.