The Yangban: a nuisance in the streets

A nobleman on an outing in Seoul. Circa 1900s. Robert Neff Collection

By Robert Neff

A noble on his donkey. Circa 1900-1910. Robert Neff Collection

In the late 19th century, traveling the streets of Seoul was an adventure. The streets were filled with savage Korean ponies biting and kicking at any who drew too close, oxen rambling about with loads of timber and brush, brash young boys peddling street food and coolies (laborers) with their huge loads of goods and water carriers sloshed water upon people as they pushed their way through the streets. But there was something even more infuriating and inconvenient ― the yangban (aristocrats).

The yangban of the highest class rode through the streets in luxurious palanquins and chairs ― some draped with leopard skins ― and were accompanied by several servants. The worst of these servants, at least in the eyes of the common people, were the runners who ran ahead and announced the aristocrat's presence. They were "equipped with long paddles with which they would soundly whack any of the common herd who should neglect to dismount, to remove the ever-present pipe from the mouth or fail to rise if sitting down."

Huddled around the yangban were his personal servants. One man carried the noble's change of clothing, another stood ready to light the long-stem pipe (the longer the pipe the greater social status) or clean its bowl and finally the bearer of the "vessel of convenience" ― the chamber pot.

According to Horace Allen ― the American Representative to Korea ― once the aristocrat arrived at his destination, he was assisted out of his chair by his fawning attendants and then "two servants [would take] their master under the arms and practically support his weight as he [mounted] the steps of building as though one so exalted had little use for feet when so occupied with mental labors and matters of state."

Not all yangban could afford to travel in such a state. The lower class or poorer nobles rode donkeys. "A donkey with a good loud bray and a tendency to exercise his vocal organs was most highly prized" as they announced the presence of an exalted nobleman without the need of runners.

Those noblemen who were unable to afford a palanquin or a donkey walked. According to Allen, they "would stride along with such an overpowering air of condescension that the very street seemed honored by having its dust so trampled." James Scarth Gale, a Canadian missionary, echoed Allen's observation:

"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."

Yangban would yield to nothing (save a yangban of higher rank) and meted out disproportionate punishment for any slights ― real or perceived.

The inconvenience caused by the movements of yangban and court officials through Jongno, the main street of Seoul, led to the establishment of Pimat-gil (the road to avoid horses) ― an alley that paralleled this main street. Here the common and lower classes could walk unmolested by the upper class. Naturally, this area soon became a popular entertainment area filled with small restaurants serving simple food and boisterous drinking establishments.

Sadly, time and development has claimed much of Pimat-gil and the small part that remains is one of those gems that few tourists ever experience ― a step back into the gritty past where people avoided the upper class.

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