Philo Norton McGiffin: Korean tigers and ginseng: Part 1

A street in Wonsan circa 1900 / Robert Neff Collection

Although 19th-century Korea is often referred to as the “Hermit Kingdom,” a land relatively unknown to Westerners, it is surprising how many famous (or infamous — depending upon your view) people traveled through the country. One of these visitors was Philo Norton McGiffin.

Born in Pennsylvania on Dec. 12, 1860, McGiffin joined the U.S. Naval Academy at the age of 17 and graduated in 1882. He was then assigned to the U.S.S. Hartford (and later to the U.S.S. Pensacola) and traveled around the world before returning to the United States in early 1884. He took his final exam but, unfortunately, his scores were not high enough to qualify him for one of the few commissions and he was discharged with a year’s pay.

Undaunted, McGiffin sailed to China where he immediately applied for a commission to assist the Chinese in their war with France. After an examination, he was accepted and would serve the Chinese government as a naval adviser, instructor and naval officer for the next decade.

A print of Korean tigers attacking a household in 1909 / Robert Neff Collection

Sometime in 1886, McGiffin traveled to Korea. One source claims that he and a large party of Chinese sailors were assigned to survey and map the coast of Korea. He may have been part of the Beiyang Fleet, when Chinese Admiral Ting Ju-ch’ang decided to show the flag to Korea, Russia and Japan. Part of the fleet visited Fusan (modern Busan) and Wonsan in the summer of 1886.

In a letter home, McGiffin described his experiences in Wonsan and the surrounding wilderness. Not all of them were accurate, and some were obviously gleaned from other sources rather than actual experience, but they are amusing.

McGiffin was especially interested in hunting. He wrote:

“The most magnificently plumed, plump and luscious pheasants, quail, woodcock, turkey bustard, wild swan, etc., abound. The marshes and waters teem with geese and duck, the waters with fish and oysters, the grass with ugly and venomous snakes — [but wear boots] — and hare, wild boar, antelope, etc., are plenty within three hours’ walk or so from any of the ports, within the same distance bear and leopards are frequently met with.”

According to him, one leopard was killed near the settlement and the hunters quickly skinned it and ate the flesh. “Leopard, bear and tiger skins, with countless wolf and small animals’ hides are commonly exposed for sale in shops.”

His reference to the large number of wolf pelts is somewhat surprising as, according to other sources, wolves began to appear in Korea in large numbers in the late 1880s.

A bridge on the road to Wonsan from Seoul circa 1900 / Robert Neff Collection

McGiffin was fascinated with tigers, and in an 1885 letter to his mother, had declared he was determined to go on a tiger hunt in northern China — whether he ever did is unknown. In Wonsan, he was sure he would have the opportunity as tigers were plenty.

“The Corean tiger is larger than his Indian brother, and, as his hair is some four or five inches long (to suit the cold weather), which bristles up and out straight when aroused, his appearance is not soothing to the nerves as may be imagined.”

He went on to add that Korean tigers were very fierce and afflicted with chronic hunger which often resulted in their surprise visits in small villages.

He was determined to get a tiger pelt but, unfortunately for him, it was the wrong season for tiger hunting:

“About half the year the Corean hunts the tiger, and the other half the tiger hunts the Corean. I was anxious to take part in a tiger hunt, or at least to get a fresh tiger skin, but this season of year seemed to be right in the midst of the tiger’s half, so that although I might get a Corean’s skin cheap, a tiger’s would come rather high so I waited. I do not delight in killing dumb animals, anyhow, and it seemed to me more humane to wait until the tiger, like the water snake, sheds his skin, and then, when he had gone to the mountains for the air, I could annex it quietly.”

On the lonely road to Wonsan from Seoul circa 1900 / Robert Neff Collection

In his youth, McGiffin was somewhat infamous for his pranks and jokes and so I am assuming the part about waiting for the tiger to shed its skin was just a joke for his mother.

One day he encountered an elderly Korean hunter resembling an “old Bedouin of Sahara, armed with a great long iron gun of Moorish pattern with a lot of curious characters carved on both wood and metal, a match or fuse lock, for powder a coarse and fine homemade mixture, and for shot a handful of small pebbles and bits of iron.” McGiffin began to laugh and jeer at the elderly hunter in an effort to “rile him.” He succeeded.

The American then took a small bottle and tossed it up into the air and, “without an effort” and firing from the hip, the old hunter shot it. McGiffin was impressed and declared Korean hunters to be “splendid shots and stalkers.”

McGiffin asked to examine the hunter’s weapon — “a curio” — and then asked if he could buy it. The hunter agreed to sell it for 1,800 cash — about 75 cents — but McGiffin declined the offer declaring it would be a “reckless waste” to spend 75 cents for such a gun. He did, however, buy some of the hunter’s birds.

According to McGiffin, “canned and dried provisions [were] very dear and poor in quality” in the port and so, throughout the spring (which gives credence to him being part of a Chinese surveying party) he “lived almost entirely on wild game.”

“[In] this port we could buy splendid pheasant or wild geese at 70 cents a dozen; swan, turkey bustard or antelope as 30 cents each, and wild duck, quail, ployer, snipe, woodcock and such game at about 55 or 60 cents a dozen, whilst other varieties and fish were almost nothing.”

In his letter he also mentioned ginseng:

“To the Coreans thus far the most important product of the soil is ginseng. The root attains here a degree of richness and excellence equaled nowhere else in the world. It is used by the natives as tea boiled in water, and in other ways consumed. It is a marvelous tonic and stimulant to failing nervous vitality. There is no doubt about this, it really does seem to freshen and invigorate the nervous forces wonderfully.”

He likened it to a fountain of youth and, backhandedly, added: “For some physiological reason the Coreans are [a] deteriorative race, and their vitality enfeebled early in life, but for the free use of ginseng.”

He then went on to explain that ginseng was of “much national benefit” and for this reason the Korean government had prohibited its export — those guilty of exporting it would suffer the severest penalties. This was partially correct. It was red ginseng that was banned from export unless government-sanctioned and the penalty for offenders was often death. He went on to explain that, regardless of the penalty, because Korean ginseng was so highly prized in China there were “large profits to be made in smuggling it — larger than even in the Canton opium trade.”

Of course, there is no honor amongst thieves and smugglers.

“To further increase their profits, the progressive Corean smuggler or ginseng merchant has learned to import the greatly inferior ginseng of American to adulterate the Corean article with. The [American] missionaries are at work!”

I am not sure why he felt the need to associate the American missionaries with ginseng smuggling, especially considering the role the Chinese navy played in smuggling ginseng at Jemulpo (modern Incheon) earlier that year.

My sincere appreciation to Diane Nars for her invaluable assistance.

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