The "true Christmas spirit"

A postcard which could have served as a Christmas card in the 1930s Robert Neff Collection

By Robert Neff

As a boy, I often looked forward to wandering the snow-covered streets of my city to admire the Christmas decorations. Houses were lit up with countless lights ― some were obviously color-schemed while others were haphazard assortments of whatever colors could be found ― snowmen (when there was enough snow) stood silent guard in the front yards and sometimes Santa and his sleigh could be seen on the occasional rooftop.

Many of the stores and businesses competed with one another to make the most beautiful Christmas display ― a smart way of advertising their goods. I especially liked the hobby and toy shops because model trains usually were a prominent feature of their displays.

Churches had large nativity scenes ― some ornate while others were rather plain ― that attracted people's attention whether they were believers or not. It was the missionaries who introduced Christmas into Korea about 140 years ago. Of course, in the beginning, Christmas was rather a small and intimate affair.

On Christmas Eve 1883, the crew of America's warship the Enterprise spent their time with normal drills in the bitter coldness anchored off the coast of modern Incheon. The following morning, they were greeted with snow and about 60 kilograms of fresh beef and a like amount of vegetables. Santa played no role in this delivery.

The next year, in Fusan (modern Busan) Mabel Lovatt, the daughter of the chief of customs at that port, was suffering from a bad cold. In a letter home, her mother, Jenny, wrote:

"Mabel is very anxious to have a gun for her Xmas present. She says she wants to shoot when she goes out to walk. The other day when we were on Deer Island [Yeongdo Island] we saw two deer, a fine pheasant, small quail and some ducks, and Mabel was quite interested in having Papa get a shot."

Korean dancers from the same series of cards Robert Neff Collection

Jenny also tried to reassure her family that she was not in any danger from the unrest of the Gapsin Coup in Seoul. Speaking of Seoul, Horace N. Allen, his wife and son were joined for Christmas dinner by two American naval officers attached to the American Legation ― Bernadou and Foulk. From his wife, Allen received "a nice embroidered satin cap and two satin ties with a silk case to keep them in, all of her own make." He had bought her an expensive silk dressing gown that was shipped from Yokohama but due to the unrest, it was lost, along with a lot of other mail.

As for the American ambassador, he and his staff spent Christmas aboard the American warship Ossipee. They were likely treated quite well aboard the warship and were visited by the commanders of the German and British warships in the harbor. It isn't clear if there were any Christmas decorations up but one crew member, John Ellis, was decorated in "double irons to await trial by court martial."

As time passed, Christmas celebrations in the foreign community grew. Large parties were given at the Seoul Union Club, complete with Christmas tree, presents and, on occasions, Santa Claus.

A Christmas card sent from a Korean student in the United States to his friend circa 1910 Robert Neff Collection

A Christmas card from Korea in 1945 Robert Neff Collection

In 1894, the royal palace had a Christmas tree. Lillias Underwood, an American missionary, wrote:

"Soon after Christmas I dressed a Christmas tree for the royal family, but to my great vexation, the effect was quite spoiled because their majesties were too impatient to wait till dark to view it, and one cannot lock the doors on kings and queens and forbid them to do as they will in their own palaces. There were no heavy hangings or means of darkening the room, and so the poor little candles flickered in a sickly way in the glaring daylight, and I felt that Western customs were lightly esteemed in the critical eyes of the East."

Of course, this was not the royal family's only encounter with Christmas. In 1905, the emperor's youngest son stole away from the palace so that he could glimpse the missionaries' Christmas tree "festooned with all the gay trimmings at her command, and candles a plenty to send out their lively gleams, and to crown all a huge star."

In the mid-1910s, Mattie Marian Ivey, an American missionary, described a group of her children going out to gaze upon the Christmas decorations and spread some Christmas cheer to a former teacher:

"Stealing softly out of the old creaking gate, because there was no room for them in the crowded chapel on the [missionary] compound were ten eager bright-eyed school girls. With bated breath, shivering with the crisp cold, their teacher and these Korean girls, with many an 'igu chuo' (it is cold), strode along the old canal [Cheonggye Stream], crossed the stone bridge and on into an alley-like street." According to Ivey, "no beautifully decorated shops greeted" the girls as they hurried on their way to join the "crushing mass of humanity attracted by the gorgeous decorations at the church" near the Mulberry Palace.

After the girls had enough Christmas sightseeing, they went "out of the ancient East Gate with the bronze monkeys grinning down on them" to the home of their former music teacher, an elderly Englishwoman who "lay sick, and homesick." The invalid patient had expressed a desire to her nurse to "hear the Christmas carols as in Old England" and was delightfully surprised when she suddenly heard a beautiful carol coming from beneath her window.

The young carolers, blue with cold, were hustled into the house and placed before the "cozy fire and each given a cup of real English tea."

Christmas carols, at least amongst the students of the missionary schools, were quite popular. Jeannette Walter, a missionary, recalled that her students were very pleased with the traditions surrounding the holiday ― including Christmas caroling. After hanging their stockings in "American fashion" and distributing the initial gifts of "soap, towel, washrag, handkerchief, pencil and tablets for all," her girls spent the entire night whispering excitedly or singing Christmas songs.

A Christmas card from the Korean War Robert Neff Collection

Of course, not everything was truly "American fashion." On Christmas Eve 1912, she and a fellow missionary made their way through the snowy streets of Seoul in rickshaws. She recalled that "the churches in the city were all lighted up on the outside by Japanese lanterns and one could see them glittering in every direction. There was just the same air of excitement as at home."

There was even a Christmas play. The Korean children sang songs and some participated in a nativity scene ― dressed like shepherd boys and the Three Wise Men. They also had four boys dressed to resemble boys from four different countries.

"The one representing the American boy looked very funny. I got an overcoat and thought it would cover him up but it was too short and his loose baggy trousers showed below. I pinned them at the knees to make them look like knickerbockers, then he had a cap that came away down over his ears, and altogether he looked quite unique. He had never seen an American in such a costume and he did not want to appear but at least he consented and performed his part as well as any American boy ever did."

In a letter home, Walter professed great pride in the children's performance and claimed she was so pleased to have had the opportunity to "catch the inspiration of the true Christmas spirit" in Korea.

While I can appreciate Walter's experience of the "true Christmas spirit," I think it pales greatly to that displayed by Pun-ie, "the happiest girl" in Korea. Her tale is one that I do not wish to spoil by abbreviating and will simply provide the link. It is truly a touching tale.

Stay warm and safe and regardless of your religious beliefs ― I hope everyone finds their own true spirit of happiness.

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