1886: The quietest Fourth of July

The American Legation in the 1880s. Robert Neff Collection

By Robert Neff

Gertrude Denny, the wife of an American employed by the Korean government as an adviser, described July 4, 1886, as being “the quietest Fourth of July” she had ever experienced. It was, she lamented, “as still and peaceful as a Sunday in the country.”

At this point, the American community in Seoul was quite small but it wasn't its size that made it so quiet ― it was, perhaps, the disgust it had for its representative to Korea, William H. Parker.

Parker arrived in Korea the previous month on the eighth. When he landed in Seoul, accompanied by several naval officers from the U.S.S. Palos, he was viewed as “a nice old gentleman.” This initial impression soon changed.

George C. Foulk, an American naval ensign attached to the legation, had daily interaction with Parker and his descriptions of his superior were especially scathing.

He described the minister as “being an old navy officer, who fought on the side of the South and glories in it.” In Foulk's opinion, Parker was obviously unqualified for the post as he was a “careless old man” who knew nothing about the Far East and was fit to only write reports.

Parker's inexperience and unfamiliarity with the Far East were the least of his faults. The medical officer from the U.S.S. Palos warned Foulk that the minister was an alcoholic and that his drinking sprees were steadily getting worse.

While traveling from the United States to Japan, Parker had “excited scandal and talk” with his excessive drinking. Later, Parker denied imbibing in “liquor, beer, or wine of any description.”

Shortly after his arrival in Seoul, Parker began to drink heavily ― and openly, in front of his staff ― but was able to keep it secret (at least in the beginning) from the general community.

Foulk was furious with his superior's behavior and “denounced him in the worst way.” Parker begged him not to report his drunken spree to the State Department and kept moaning that he needed to return to the United States.

In a letter to his parents, Foulk disgustedly reported: “[The minister] has drunken so much that he can now not even keep water in him and is the most miserable wreck I ever saw.”

He also noted the minister was financially ruined and, if recalled, probably could not afford to buy a steamship ticket to return to the United States. Somewhat callously he added: “Perhaps it is best that he die out here and be sent home at freight rates.”

Within a short time, the minister's drinking problem became well known in not only the American community but also in the Korean government.

On June 30, the American minister, along with Foulk, had an official audience with King Gojong. According to Foulk, the Korean monarch was aware of the minister's drunken habits “and it was painful to me to see the old scoundrel wriggle and lie to the questions the King put to him about his late illness.”

Fortunately for Foulk, he was granted a leave of absence on July 1 and promptly left for Shanghai.

While he may have celebrated his departure from Seoul, the American community did not. Within a couple of weeks, Korea would be confronted with one of the worst cholera epidemics it had ever faced ― tens of thousands would be dead by the end of August.