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| The American legation in Seoul in the 1880s. Robert Neff Collection |
By Robert Neff
In the summer of 1883, the American legation in Seoul was haunted, according to Rose Foote, the ambassador's wife, by "a most fascinating history and was invested with the flavor of romance. There were proud, surviving interests in the gruesome tales of its valiant decapitated Mins, who even now in unquestionable shape, periodically stalked about the premises." These tales were especially popular with the Korean servants who gave "gloomy recitals [of] skulls and headless skeletons which had missed honorable burial [and] had been turned up in the gardens."
Korean bones had an uncanny way of showing up in unexpected places. In the summer of 1890, Korean bones were discovered being shipped to Japan by Murakami Shizoku, a leather merchant. He declared them to be "salted vegetables" but an examination proved them to be human bones. It is unclear why he was importing bones but for his crime he was fined $150.
Bones sometimes appeared in the streets of Seoul. In July 1897, Han Hee-dong, a policeman, discovered a large box in the street that contained human skeletons. It was determined that the bones were very old and had likely "been dug up from an old grave by a mischievous person." The bones were reburied by the police and it is unclear if the desecrator was ever apprehended.
Desecrating graves was a serious crime. Prior to 1895, a person could be banished for two years and given 80 lashes on the shin for "digging into the ancestral grave of a boy mourner, so as to expose the corpse; throwing a corpse into the water [or] burning a buried body while trying to smoke a fox out of his hole."
Sometimes the "mischievous" were caught and prosecuted. Although they weren't banished and beaten, the punishment was still numbingly harsh.
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| A Korean jail in the 1880s. Robert Neff Collection |
In the fall of 1896, Hong Su-nik, a feeble old man of 70 years, was brought before the court in Seoul and charged with maliciously digging up his neighbor's father's grave. Apparently the evidence was overwhelming and the court found the elderly man guilty and sentenced him to three years' imprisonment with hard labor in the city jail. Hong may have been physically feeble but mentally he was still a cunning old fox.
When it came time for him to begin his sentence, he sent his son in his stead ― the filial progeny adopting his father's name and accepting his sentence. For several months the ploy worked but then word leaked out of the old culprit's deceit and the matter was investigated but apparently forgotten. That is, until the pardon, or, rather, the lack of a pardon.
In February 1897, after a year's stay at the Russian legation, the royal family returned to the palace and the king declared an amnesty for all prisoners who were seventy years old or older. This royal decree was promptly complied with by the jailors except in the case of Mr. Hong. The prison official refused to release Hong because he looked far too young to be a man in his seventies. To his credit, Hong's son continued the charade ― never confessing his true identity.
Perhaps it was guilt that drove the real Hong Su-nik to confess his duplicity to the authorities several months after the king had issued the pardon. The minister of law, maybe impressed with the fidelity or moved with pity, released the younger Hong from prison with a special order. What became of the elder Hong is unclear ― perhaps his cleverness or a bag of cash earned him a reprieve in the eyes of the law.
Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books including, Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.
