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| Area just outside of Seoul in the winter of 1883/84 Robert Neff Collection |
By Robert Neff
The summer of 1882 brought many changes to Korea, including the establishment of treaties with the West, but it did not bring the anticipated rains. Wells and streams dried up and, without water, the rice crops died in the fields. Rice prices doubled, then tripled. Already burdened with the Korean government's heavy taxes, many people fled their farms and villages for the surrounding countryside and hills where they roamed as bandits, preying upon one another.
There were many who objected to the government's policy of establishing treaties with the West and Japan. Diviners, shamans and anti-foreign elements took advantage of the drought to play upon the superstitious fears of the common people. They claimed these treaties had angered the spirits of their ancestors and, as a result, the land was cursed and rain was forbidden from falling.
The city was a powder keg of unrest and all it needed was a single spark to set it off ― that spark came when soldiers were cheated out of their just wages. On July 23, an orgy of murder and destruction began when soldiers and citizens took to the streets. The Japanese Legation was attacked and the Japanese military instructor and a number of Japanese residents were slaughtered in the streets.
The Japanese representative to Korea, Hanabusa Yoshitada, and his staff were forced to flee to Jemulpo (modern Incheon) where they were eventually rescued by a British warship. As they fled, it began to rain ― surely a sign that the ancestors were pleased.
However, Hanabusa returned ― this time with several Japanese steamships (with Western crews) and a large number of soldiers. While Hanabusa was engaged in negotiations with the Korean government (with demands such as to bury the slain Japanese, pay their families 50,000 yen and rebuild the Japanese Legation), four of the Western crewmembers at Jemulpo grew bored and decided to explore.
Of course, "having heard a good deal of [Korean] savagery, [each man] brought the largest revolvers procurable and twenty-five rounds of ammunition." The writer made it clear they had "no idea of initiating hostilities" but were only interested in being able to defend themselves. Considering the recent unrest, their precautions seem fairly prudent.
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| A Korean house in the late 19th or early 20th century Robert Neff Collection |
According to one of them:
"We landed at low water, and as there is a rise and fall of 29 feet [8.8 meters] we had to wade through soft mud for about a mile and a quarter [2 kilometers]. We then struck soft swampy land, and strolled about among the Japanese troops, so as to take in the situation. After due deliberation and the consumption of two quarts of Bass, we concluded we might as well take a peep at Seoul."
In order to "make sure Providence" was on their side, they flipped a trade dollar ― apparently the coin toss was good. They followed a small path (later learning that it was main road to Seoul) and eventually came to a small crude Korean house. As a precaution, they drew their revolvers and "exhibited [their] foreign independence by commencing a careful examination of the miserable habitation."
They expected to be assailed by a horde of angry Koreans ― an expectation that is somewhat warranted considering the political environment at the time and the fact that they were entering someone's house uninvited and holding weapons ― but were instead greeted by "a very nice-looking, clean, young man" who opened the door and "in the most friendly way" beckoned them to enter.
Their young host treated them to cakes made of millet and rice and together they drank two different types of Korean alcohol. According to our narrator, their Korean host "seemed unable to be kind enough" to his foreign guests.
He also wanted the foreigners to amuse themselves by shooting at some of his chickens but they, somewhat surprisingly, declined. Perhaps thinking the chickens were not challenging enough, he offered to let them shoot his cow ― once again they declined.
Our narrator was extremely observant during his brief stay. He noted that the price of chickens was between 8 and 10 sen (4-5 American cents) and they were "not so tough as those met with in more civilized lands." The Korean cattle were plentiful and fine ― weighing between 200 kilograms and 225 kilograms and costing between 20 yen and 24 yen (10-12 American dollars).
He was convinced that Seoul resembled Rome ― "minus the buildings" ― in that it was situated in a valley and "the surrounding hills have forts of guns." He noted the only weapons he saw carried by Korean soldiers were pikes and the occasional matchlock.
Korea was a hunter's paradise and the fields were filled with geese, ducks, quail, pheasants, pigeon etc. The same fields were also filled with snakes. According to our rude traveler, they managed to kill several snakes (about 2 meters long) ― some of which were very poisonous. Surprisingly, he claimed that "there are no mosquitoes [in Korea], not even in the hottest weather."
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| A Korean farmer plows his field in the early 20th century. Robert Neff Collection |
There were, however, other dangers:
"Until the country is drained the manufacture of tombstones will be a flourishing industry, as fever and ague abound. Indeed there is no necessity to go ashore for these plagues, as they come afloat to the ships in harbour."
It seems somewhat strange that our narrator, unlike many of his later peers, did not devote much ink to the description of Korean women. He merely mentioned that toothpicks were unknown in Korea and that consequently it was considered "a grave breach of etiquette to use one of these articles in the presence of a lady." Our opinionated narrator, however, was certain that once "our nobility gets among them the [Koreans] will know better." The only other comment concerning women was this:
"Oxen are not used as beasts of burden, as the [Koreans] are not sufficiently civilized to make their wives do farm work, but they seem very jealous of the ladies."
He was grudgingly impressed with Korean kindness ― offers to pay oxen drivers who accompanied them on their trip back to Jemulpo from Seoul were reluctantly accepted. "Indeed we experienced nothing but the greatest kindness all through our trip, each person we met seeming to vie with the others in being agreeable." The Korean people, according to his experience, "liked all foreigners except the Japanese, and they have good reason for hating them."
Our narrator provided a rather back-handed compliment (ensuring he insulted as many people as possible) when he described the average Korean as "one-half a better sort of Chinaman, one-quarter Frenchman (for politeness), and one-quarter [Native American] or Irishman -― from his partiality for whiskey."
In conclusion he wrote:
"I have always been led to believe that it was certain death to be wrecked on the [Korean] coast, even if one got ashore. But my recent experience of the people leads me to hope that if I ever am unfortunate enough to be cast away, it will be among these so-called and much maligned savages. I may state further that we found the revolvers we were so anxious about taking a terrible nuisance; indeed all a man seems to want when traveling in [Korea] is a string of cash."
It is an amazing tale but pales in comparison to the tale of one of his peers ― which is the subject for our next article.
Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books, including Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.
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