Contributor
Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books, including Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.
What did Namdaemun and Gyeongbok Palace have in common in 1891?As part of the currency reforms, their images were proposed for the design of a paper bill that would make business transactions easier.
The summer of 1892 was, a foreign resident in Jemulpo (modern Incheon) declared, the hottest summer in Korea he had experienced. According to him, “the oldest resident” in the community could not remember a hotter summer, and, the narrator added, the old man had a “pretty lengthy” memory to draw upon. Unfortunately, we do not know if the elderly gentleman was Korean or foreign — but regardless, considering Jemulpo was a fairly new port, it was a pretty bold assertion.
In the early 1900s, Charles M. Root, an aptly named American, wrote, “When China thinks about [Korea] it is not about its political status, its queer customs or its [strategic] importance to China, but the ginseng that comes from [Korean] mountains.” He added, “This root is the foundation of all the commercial dealings between China and ‘The Land of the Morning [Calm].’”
Family albums and scrapbooks are treasure chests filled with memories — good and bad. Old photographs, their edges curled with age and humidity, inspire curiosity, but unfortunately the questions as to the identities of the people in the pictures and their locations are often left unanswered due to the carelessness of the compiler who neglected to annotate them. Perhaps they thought they could do it later or just assumed they would always remember the information. Memories are often flawed — especially with age — and the younger generations, self-absorbed with their own lives, are not interested in the anecdotes of the past.
“The great heat of summer will soon be upon you,” declared Chesney Duncan in late spring 1884, "and many [of the expat community in China] will be casting about for some place that will afford both change of climate and of scenery to spend the hot months in!”
In the winter of 1883, Percival Lowell, an American, paid a short visit to Fusan (modern Busan) while en route to Seoul via Jemulpo. According to him:
In the summer of 1884, an unidentified Western promoter — whom I believe was Chesney Duncan — declared that Fusan (modern Busan) was a wonderful health resort — not just for single adventurous men, but entire families. Duncan, an employee of the Korean Imperial Customs Service who had recently transferred to Fusan, seemed to enjoy taunting his friends in China with tales of this relatively unknown location. From his upper room in a Japanese house overlooking the port’s beautiful harbor, he basked in the delicious sea breeze as he poetically described the port in a letter to a Chinese newspaper:
While Jemulpo (modern Incheon) was often described in the late 19th century as the gateway to Korea, I would argue it was Fusan (modern Busan) that deserved this title, especially in the 1880s, when it appears more non-military Westerners visited it than Jemulpo. Over the next couple of articles we will examine Fusan in the 1880s.
One of the least appreciated but arguably the most beautiful thing to see in Seoul is the evening sky – especially along the Han River. It is not uncommon to see crowds of people gathered along the river banks sipping coffee – and perhaps stronger drinks – while staring at the majestic sunset. For the young lovers, it is romantic; for the weary office worker, it is rejuvenating; and for the elderly, it is a reminder of just how insignificant we humans are when compared to the colossal might of the universe. But in the late fall of 1883, the red sky was an omen of change and a reminder of the Mother Nature’s devastating strength.
In late 19th century, weather was often a catalyst for political unrest in Korea. Perhaps one of the most infamous examples was in the summer of 1882 when the Korean peninsula was on the precipice of change. The country was suffering from severe drought, the wells were dry and the crops were failing. Since early spring, sacrifices were made at the main city shrines and along the Han River beseeching gods for rain. Food became scarce and prices rose and thefts and robberies became widespread. Whispers amongst the superstitious claimed the kingdom’s woes were signs of the gods’ displeasure that foreigners were being allowed to enter the country.