Bulls, butchers and death: Plenty to beef about in Joseon Korea

A Korean ox and cart. Circa 1900s. Robert Neff Collection

By Robert Neff

Cattle were a very important part of Joseon society and were often a subject for Westerners in their correspondences home or in the books and articles they published about Korea in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

In a missive to his government, Walter C. Hillier ― the British Consul-General in Seoul ― wrote: "[Korea] is noted for its fine breed of cattle, which are used exclusively in farm work and share with the sturdy ponies ― also an indigenous breed, small, but great weight carriers, with exceptional powers of endurance ― the whole of the carrying trade. Hundreds of bulls enter this city alone everyday with firewood, grain, and other commodities, and beef is a common article of food."

The Korean bulls were especially appreciated and described as "powerful," "noble," "tractable," "remarkably handsome," and "splendid beasts" that, despite being extremely powerful, were docile enough that even a small child could manage them.

Great numbers of cattle were raised in the Wonsan region and live cattle were one of the primary trade items with that port and Russia. These cattle sold for about three or four British pounds each and were sought after by most of the meat-starved Western naval forces in the northern Far East.

A firewood vendor and his merchandise. Circa 1900s. Courtesy of Diane Nars Collection

At first cattle were traded with the Russians at the Korea-Russia border, but later the Russians sent steamers to the port and bought large numbers of these fine animals which they transported back to Vladivostok. An early Korean enterprise in the late 1880s was a steamer leased by a Korean businessman to transport cattle to Vladivostok, but it doesn't seem to have been a very profitable enterprise.

In 1885, the British also bought large numbers of cattle from Wonsan and transported them to their naval base at Port Hamilton (Geomundo Islands), to be used by the garrison there. The cattle were loaded on ships and then taken to the islands where they were butchered at the garrison's slaughterhouse.

Butcher shops in Korea had a notorious reputation with Westerners. The intrepid English travel writer Isabella Bird Bishop was extremely graphic with her description:

"The smells were fearful, the dirt abominable, and the quantity of wretched dogs and of pieces of bleeding meat blackening in the sun perfectly sickening." She went on to add:

"The Koreans cut the throat of the animal and insert a peg in the opening. Then the butcher takes a hatchet and beats the animal on the rump until it dies. The process takes about an hour, and the beast suffers agonies of terror and pain before it loses consciousness. Very little blood is lost during the operation; the beef is full of it, and its heavier weight in consequence is to the advantage of the vendor."

A Korean wood seller and his ox. Circa 1900s. Courtesy of Diane Nars Collection

Unsurprisingly, many Westerners did not trust Korean butchers, especially when it came to beef and preferred to patronize Japanese or Chinese butcher shops. The only reason to visit the Korean butcher shops was out of curiosity or necessity.

As in many countries, Korean cattle also suffered from the scourge of rinderpest ― a highly infectious viral disease ― that decimated herds and caused great suffering to the common people.

In the fall of 1891, Franklin Ohlinger, an American residing in Seoul, wrote that within just a few weeks of the discovery of a case of rinderpest that the Korean bulls "had entirely disappeared from the streets." The only cattle to be seen were the dead and dying.

Hillier blamed the Korean government "as no measures were taken to isolate the infected cattle it spread with appalling rapidity." There were claims that only two or three cows in a herd of 100 survived, but Hillier suggested that this was an exaggeration and that the mortality rate was actually between 60 to 70 percent. He did, however, acknowledge that "competent authorities" estimated thousands of bulls in the Seoul vicinity had died.

The price of cattle fell sharply ― a 10th of their value ― based on the worth of their bones and hides. Many cattle owners butchered their stock before (and possibly after) they died and the price of beef rapidly fell so that "for nearly two months beef-eating seemed to constitute the chief occupation of the masses."

Of course, many people worried about the safety of eating infected beef, which led to a subsequent demand for another domesticated animal ― the dog. "Fat dogs are now in demand," reported Ohlinger, "[because] many of the poorer people [believe] that a corresponding fear of dog's meat will counteract any poison there may have been lurking in the beef."

A Korean farmer in the field. Circa 1900s. Robert Neff Collection

This problem of eating infected meat wasn't confined just to the 19th century. The local newspapers in 1909 are sprinkled with accounts of people dying after eating these infected cattle. Some people knowingly took their chances but others were deceived through the greediness of butchers and merchants who would dig up the carcasses of the dead cows, butcher them and then sell the meat to their customers and neighbors.

The loss of so many cattle had another impact on Korean society. The winter of 1891-92 was extremely severe and arrived much earlier than usual. Ohlinger lamented that as "nearly all the fuel for the city as well as the freight between [Jemulpo] and Seoul being carried or hauled heretofore by bullocks, we are spending the winter on the uncomfortable edge of a fuel-famine." The only option was to transport brush and wood on the backs of men ― which led to exorbitant prices.

Fortunately, rinderpest is no longer a problem; in 2011, it was officially declared to be globally eradicated. Hopefully, 2021 ― the Year of the Ox ― will bring relief from COVID-19 and we will finally be able to discard our masks and return to normalcy.