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| The streets of Jemulpo decorated for a holiday in the early 20th century. Courtesy of Diane Nars Collection |
By Robert Neff
At the end of December 1890, 25-year-old Arnold Henry Savage Landor ― an English painter and writer ― arrived in Jemulpo (modern Incheon) to get a feel for the Land of the Morning Calm.
He would soon discover the kingdom ― especially at this time ― was anything but calm and quiet.
There were three "European hotels" in Jemulpo that catered to foreigners ― one was owned by an Austrian and was quite popular with sailors, another was owned by a Chinese man and the third, which had recently been rebuilt, had a Japanese proprietor.
Landor chose the latter (Daibutsu Hotel), partially because it seemed to be the cleanest but he would soon rue the decision, for the rooms were all damp and icy cold. This soon became very apparent when he woke up the following morning.
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| Harakin Inn, a Japanese establishment in Jemulpo, in the early 1900s. Courtesy of Diane Nars Collection |
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| Arnold Henry Savage Landor and his cats. Wikipedia image |
"I had ordered a cold bath, and water and tray had been brought into my room before I had gone to bed, but to my horror, when I got up, ready to plunge in and sponge myself to my heart's content, I found nothing but a huge block of solid ice, into which the water had thought proper to metamorphose itself."
He quickly summoned the maid to remove the block of ice and bring him fresh water ― which she complied with, but within minutes of her departure his bathwater was once again covered with a thin layer of ice.
On December 31, Landor walked about the Japanese foreign settlement in Jemulpo observing the preparations being made to celebrate the New Year. He noted that the geishas were hard at work as they were constantly being summoned to entertain at the various Japanese residences.
Landor was apparently not a fan of their music ― which he described as "excruciating" ― nor the amount of alcohol being openly indulged in.
"I walked up the main street. Great Scott! What a din! It was enough to drive anybody crazy. Each house, with its paper walls, hardly suitable for the climate, seemed to contain a regular pandemonium. Men and women were to be seen squatting on the ground round a huge brass hibachi, where a charcoal fire was blazing, singing and yelling and playing and clapping their hands to their hearts' content.
"They had lost somehow or other that look of gracefulness which is so characteristic of them in their own country, and on a closer examination I found the cause to be their being clad in at least a dozen kimonos, put on one over the other to keep the cold out. Just picture to yourself anyone wearing even half that number of coats and you will doubtless agree with me that one's form would not be much improved thereby in appearance."
Landor quickly returned to his hotel and, despite the noise, promptly fell asleep.
Landor woke early in the morning and spent some time snuggled in the warmth of his blankets while "thinking of the foolishness of humanity." He was apparently not a morning person and did not like to be disturbed by others ― even when the disruption was done as a mark of respect and friendliness.
At 7:20 there was a knock at his door, and thinking it was the maid with his bathwater, he bade the knocker to enter. It wasn't the maid.
"In came a procession of [Japanese], ludicrously attired in foreign clothes with antediluvian frock-coats and pre-historic European hats, bowing and sipping their breath in sign of great respect. At their head was the fat proprietor of the hotel, and each of them carried with him in his hand a packet of visiting cards, which they severally deposited on my bed, as I, more than ten times astounded, stood resting on my elbows gazing at them."
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| Honmachi-dori in the Japanese settlement of Jemulpo in the early 1900s. Robert Neff collection |
They quickly introduced themselves while Landor got up and was forced to entertain them with drinks and cigarettes. Just as soon as they left ― and before he could take his ice-cold bath ― another group of well-wishers (noisier than the first group) entered his room uninvited. They wished him "all sorts of happiness for the New Year" and he, in turn, "wished them all to a place that was certainly not heaven."
Landor was not the only one suffering from intolerable well-wishers. Walter Townsend, an American businessman in the port, "was simply besieged by visitors. Many were so drunk that they actually had to be carried in by coolies ― a curious mode of going to call ― while others had even to be provided with a bed on the premises until the effects of their libations had passed off…" Some of the callers were so drunk that one of them fell into a table while trying to offer a "grand bow" to the American merchant.
Landor, in an attempt to get away from the constant stream of well-wishers, took to the streets where he encountered "nothing but drink" and a constant flow of "unsteady walkers" celebrating the New Year.
It was perhaps too much for the English artist; early the next morning he departed for Seoul seeking a new adventure. In this he was successful and later published a book ― "Corea or Chosen: The Land of the Morning Calm" ― in which he described (in a rather cantankerous manner) his stay in Korea.
I wish everyone a safe and pleasant New Year and hopefully 2021 will be much better than 2020.
Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books including, Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.
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