Where was Chuseok in the past?

A Korean crowd in the early 1900s. Robert Neff Collection

By Robert Neff

"Chuseok" is, undoubtedly, one of the most important holidays in Korea. Families gather together, repair and tidy ancestors' graves, celebrate with lots of good food and drink, play games and, in the way only good friends and family are able to, banter throughout the three-day holiday.

Of course, not everything associated with the holiday is good. Traffic is notorious! Obtaining bus, train and plane tickets are difficult at best ― although, it is a lot better now than it was prior to 2000 when people were forced to scramble to buy tickets weeks, if not months, in advance. Today's families are smaller than they were only a couple of decades ago and to me, as an outside observer, seem to have removed some of the magic of these gatherings when distant relatives tried to sort their familial status.

For many people, including myself, it is easy to slip into nostalgia when remembering this holiday from the past. Perhaps our memories are aided by the romanticized ideas portrayed in Korean movies and dramas, novels and/or our own vivid imaginations. How accurate are these romanticized ideas?

Korean farmers in the early 1900s. Courtesy of Diane Nars Collection

The history of Chuseok apparently goes back almost two millenniums to the reign of Yuri ― the third king of Silla. According to popular legend, the kingdom's women were divided into teams and competed to see who could weave the most cloth over a month ― the losers provided the winning team with a great feast.

This was not the only contest associated with Chuseok.

Young men vied with one another in archery and "Ssireum" (Korean wrestling). This provided them with a venue to exorcise their over-abundance of testosterone through manly exercise and, if they won, to bring home a prize ― rice, cotton, small trade goods or even a cow.

Girls took to the sky by playing "neolttwigi" (a traditional type of Korean seesaw). It was a thrilling sport that allowed them to momentarily escape the seclusion of their families' compound and catch a quick glimpse of their neighborhood and it also provided young males with the opportunity of seeing them.

Eventually card games, such as "hwatu," also became an aspect of the Chuseok celebration. I remember visiting my friend's house and playing cards with his family. My self-assured hubris with cards was quickly dispelled and replaced with embarrassment when my friend's mother made him and his older brothers give me back my money ― we were wagering 50 won or so on a point.

How do these memories of Chuseok from a couple of decades ago compare to the experiences of Westerners in Korea at the end of the 19th century? They don't! I have been able to find only one or two references to Chuseok (by Westerners) prior to the 20th century.

Children playing with marbles or pitching coins in the early 1900s. Robert Neff Collection

One of the earliest and most prolific Western narrators about Korea, William Elliot Griffis, merely noted that on the fifteenth day of the eighth month (lunar) that broken tombs of ancestors were tidied up and repaired and sacrifices were made to the ancestors.

Horace N. Allen, one of the first Americans to live in Korea, didn't even mention Chuseok in his book, "Things Korean" ― even though he wrote about everything else whether it was or wasn't about Korea. In fact, looking through his correspondence to families and friends, I could find no references to the holiday. And he wasn't the only one.

None of the diaries and collections of letters that I looked at make any mention of this very important holiday ― it was business as usual. Not even the Korean servants and employees appear to have been given one day off in honor of this event.

Yun Chi-ho doesn't mention Chuseok in his 19th century diaries (although it is possible he did but I missed it). Even more surprising, the palace ― except for a relatively small ceremony ― conducted business pretty much as they did on any other day. This is evidenced by the granting of audiences to Westerners ― including the diplomats' wives and families on Sept. 14 (8th moon 15th day), 1894.

At three in the afternoon, four women (three American and one English) made their way to the front of the palace where they were met by the American legation's Korean interpreter, Mr. Hong, who was described by one of the ladies as "a handsome Korean … dressed in court costume with an embroidered badge of a large white stork, which designated his rank as a gentleman …"

Children playing on a seesaw circa 1920s-1930s. Robert Neff Collection

The women, along with Mr. Hong, were escorted into the waiting chamber by two ladies-in-waiting who were dressed in simple thin silk outfits. Elizabeth Graham, the sister-in-law to the American Minister to Korea, was astonished and, perhaps, horrified by the hair pieces the Korean ladies wore:

"(All) the adornments that their (clothing) lacked were piled up on their heads. Such head gear I hope never to behold again. Their own hair was parted in the middle and tucked somewhere, for it was but a drop in the bucket to what was added. First, a large cushion covered with black cloth was fastened on top and toward the front of their heads, over this were placed two immense braids of hair, each braid as thick as my arm, they were brought down over the ears in front and crossed low behind and then toggled up on the head in an irregular fashion."

The Western guests (with Hong) were then seated at a small table which was piled with fruit, crackers and other dainties. They were also served with wine and then coffee ― this clearly dispels the myth that coffee was introduced into the court by Antoinette Sontag in 1896.

After a short time, the women were "summoned to the royal presence" and taken to "a long room about 8 by 25 with open windows on the two long sides, floor covered with matting, quite bare of pictures or furniture, the walls and ceilings frescoed in the brightest of red and blue and black and yellow."

It is almost amazing how undiplomatic the diplomats and their families were ― especially the Americans. Elizabeth Graham was no exception:

"The King and Queen stand on one of the long sides of the room, each behind a small table covered with bright cotton velvet cloths. The Queen was surrounded by a great bevy of women, many of them young and good looking and many of them old and ugly. She was dressed very much the same as the two ladies who met us at the door, only her hair was simply dressed parted in the middle and gathered in a low knot directly over her forehead fastened to a band of black ribbon was a crescent shaped jeweled ornament. The King wore a yellow shirt covered with a long red coat all made of thin silk on his shoulder and on his breast were large oval pieces heavily embroidered in gold (one word illegible), by his side stood a lady in waiting, on one of the short sides of the room was the crown prince, he stood behind a table also and had a lady on each side of him. He was dressed like his father except his outside coat was of purple silk instead of red. The king is rather a handsome man with an agreeable manner, the Queen is small, looks cunning and wily, has a very broad smile and narrow slits of eyes, which is a sign of the bluest blood. She was powdered so much that she looked as though she had just brought her face out of a flour barrel."

No one escaped the bitterness of her pen, including the young crown prince whom she described as looking "quite like an imbecile and it is said his looks do not belie him." In all fairness, most Westerners (after the late 1880s) described the crown prince in a similar manner.

Gyeonghoeru Pavilion at Gyeongbok Palace in the early 1900s. Robert Neff Collection

According to Graham, it was rather difficult to speak with the royal family because Mr. Hong had to stay outside the open window as no man (other than family) could be in the presence of the queen, and from his bowing position, the women struggled to hear his interpretation of the royals' questions.

There was one question, however, Graham clearly understood. The queen asked each of the women their ages, the ages of their children and general questions about their families but Graham was unmarried and had no children. Thus she wasn't surprised when the queen asked what unmarried women did in the United States. In her letter home, Graham explained, "I suppose she was wondering in her mind how I occupied my time with neither husband nor children to look after."

After about a half hour of polite (?) conversation, the women were led to the waiting room where they were once again treated to wine and coffee and then escorted to their palanquins.

We "departed tired, hot, plus dusty," Graham wrote and then, characteristically, added, "The next day I was taken ill. I think royalty was too much for me."

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