Joseon Images Children of early modern Korea

A group of children pose for a picture, circa 1890-1910s. / Robert Neff Collection

By Robert Neff

• Published May 5, 2021 10:33 AM KST
• Updated May 6, 2021 8:50 AM KST

By Robert Neff

There are certain times of the year that even the most mischievous child becomes well-behaved. For many Western children, it is the weeks leading up to Christmas; for Korean children it may be the weeks leading up to Children's Day on May 5.

Although Bang Jeong-hwan is credited as the creator of this holiday in the 1920s, Children's Day's origin appears to go back much earlier.

In 1894, Christopher T. Gardner, a British diplomat in Seoul, wrote: “Early in May the streets [of Seoul] are full of toys for the little ones, and on the day itself the town is given up to children wearing bright new clothes and enjoying themselves. The sight in the big main street, with its throngs of happy children in their bright clothes, each child with its hands full of toys, accompanied by their fathers and grandfathers in snowy clean white raiments, showing in keen contrast with the somber grey tint of the nearest houses, and the dark-green of the fantastically shaped mountains in the distance, seems a glimpse of fairyland, and would have delighted the heart of Hans Andersen.”

Foreign residents' letters back home and published articles in the late 19th and early 20th centuries carried many mentions of children ― both Korean and foreign.

Surprisingly, Horace N. Allen, who had a tendency to be grumpy, declared that Korean children “are like the young of other lands, except that perhaps they are more generally well behaved.” Considering he fell prey to a couple of young urchins' prank resulting in him tumbling off his bicycle, his observation seems uncharacteristically generous.

There were others who commented about the good manners of young Koreans. In 1893, a visitor from Shanghai expressed surprise and appreciation after encountering children in the streets of Seoul who greeted them with “good morning” and other pleasantries. When Percival Lowell visited Korea in the winter of 1883-84, he was also impressed with the frequent visits of young Korean students who wanted to utilize some of the English they had learned in their classrooms.

Of course, some of the children acquired their English vocabulary from sources other than school. In the mid-1880s, British sailors were at first amused and then slightly irritated when the English they inadvertently taught to some Korean youngsters came back to haunt them. Young boys pestered the sailors for some tobacco and when the sailors refused, the children lashed out at them with English curse words ― apparently their salty talk was enough to make the sailors blush.

Many foreign children also learned Korean. Sallie Sill, the American ambassador's wife, wrote in her journal-letter, “although there are no schools for [the children of missionaries] they are remarkably intelligent and well behaved, most of them talk Korean as well as English, and they are all of them unusually interesting.”

They may have been interesting but they weren't always very diplomatic. When Mrs. Allen and her two children ― Harry and Maurice ― were invited to the palace to meet the royal family, they were first treated to a fine Korean dinner with some of the palace officials. The boys readily ate everything they could and their mother, wanting to make small talk, announced that her children were very fond of Korean food. The children immediately corrected her insisting they liked American food better. Their truthfulness caused even more embarrassment when they met the Korean king and queen ― who were very taken with the young boys ― despite the boys' lack of tact when answering their questions.

Perhaps it was this lack of diplomatic tact that endeared the children to the Korean monarch. At a children's party in December 1895, part of the entertainment was a magic lantern show of Korea. It is important to note the timing ― just two months prior the queen had been assassinated in the palace and the missionary children “showed which side their sympathy lay by cheering when the [Korean] King appeared on the canvas and by hissing when a Japanese was seen.”

While some people were impressed with the missionary children's knowledge of Korean and political events, others weren't. Sallie Swallen, a missionary, complained about her children's Korean fluency and knowledge of Korean society: “Sometimes I wish they didn't know any Korean …. There is nothing private among these people. A [Korean child] at four knows more than some of our children at 15.”

Perhaps she was alluding to the Korean children's awareness of their bodies as Korean children had the propensity to run around outside almost naked regardless of the weather. Many Americans, in their letters home, described Korea as the land of naked children.

Western children were also a subject of interest for their Korean hosts. Annie Heron ― who was born in Seoul in 1886 ― became exasperated with all of the attention she received. Sometimes curious people would poke their fingers through the paper windows and doors in order to get a glimpse of her. One day, unable to endure the violation of her privacy, she leapt up from her bed and flung open the door and began scolding the intruders in Korean. The crowd was astonished ― not because she berated them in Korean but because she was standing before them naked. The crowd noted that she looked the same as a little Korean girl save she was lighter in color.

Some of the missionary children formed strong friendships with their Korean peers. Horace H. Underwood (born in Seoul in 1890) often played with the children in his neighborhood and was treated like “a rare toy.” His mother was careful not to let him abuse his popularity.

Douglas Avison, the son of a Canadian missionary born in Seoul in 1893, had many Korean friends and often roamed the city with them. When he formed a secret club with some of the other missionary children and their Korean peers, he made a rule that all the boys had to have short hair. Unbeknownst to their parents, Avison ― armed with a pair of sharp scissors ― cut his Korean peers' hair. Korean boys, prior to marriage, customarily wore their hair in a long queue, and in the 1890s short hair was likely associated with Japanese-initiated reforms ― one of the most hated of which would have been short hair.

Avison recalled, “Knowing that willing consent could not be had from the parents to cut off the long braided pigtails which were then the fashion of Korea, we decided to do the barbering ourselves without asking permission.” He neglected to say what happened next but undoubtedly the Korean boys' parents were less than pleased.

Robert Neff is a historian and columnist for The Korea Times.