CHAPTER I
First Arrival—First Impressions—The City of Seoul—Korean Houses—Mission Homes—Personnel of Mission in 1888—Beginnings of Work—Difficulties in Attaining the Language—Korean Religions—Palace Women—First Interview with Palace Women—Entertainment Given in my Honor by President of Foreign Office—The Interdict—Confidence Exhibited by Government in Protestant Missionaries—The “Baby Riots”—Babies Reported to have been Eaten at Foreign Legations—Restoring Confidence—The Signal—First Invitation to Palace.
I landed in Korea at the port of Chemulpo on a cloudy, windy March day, in 1888. My eyes fell on a rocky shore, back of which the bare sharp outline of low hills, whitened with patches of snow, was relieved by no trees to break the monotony of the scene. Dreary mud flats, instead of a sandy beach, lay reeking and slimy along the water’s edge. As our boat neared the shore, for there was and is no pier, and ships even at high tide cannot approach very near, wild and strange-looking men, uttering wild and strange-sounding speech, came hurrying down the hill to inspect us.
Their coarse black hair was long and dishevelled, in some instances braided in a single pigtail, in most cases, however, tied on top of the head, where a careless attempt at a top-knot had been made, but elf-locks straying round the neck and face gave a wolfish and unkempt appearance. They were Mongolians with all the race features, not differing much from Chinese or Japanese except in dress, and being in the main rather taller than the latter people. Their garments appeared to consist of a short loose jacket and long baggy trousers, of a dirty white native cloth. These garments among the poorer classes are never changed oftener than twice in a month.
These were the people among whom I had come to work—this the country which I had chosen instead of the “groves and templed hills” of my own dear native land. My heart swelled, and lifted up an earnest prayer that it might not be in vain.
In justice to the Koreans, however, I ought to say here, that the people whom I saw that morning were of the lowest and roughest class, their dress the poorest sort, and that Chemulpo, especially in March, is perhaps the most forbidding and unsightly place in Korea. Being the main port for the capital, it is made up, as ports often are, very largely of a mixture of various nationalities. Many sailors and traders, and especially Chinese and Japanese merchants, have built their poor houses and shops in the main town.
The trip from Chemulpo to Seoul, about twenty-eight miles, was made the following day, in a Sedan-chair carried by four coolies. The road, although a much traveled one, was very bad, but is now replaced by a railroad which accomplishes the distance in about two hours and a half. The country I found pleasantly rolling—comparatively few trees were seen, and the population thereabout seemed quite sparse. Here and there were squalid mud huts thatched with straw. I found on inquiry that this little land, lying west of Japan, attached at its northern extremity to China and Siberia, has an area of about ninety thousand square miles and a population of over fourteen millions of people, with a climate varying from that in the north, like northern New York, to that in the extreme south, like southern Virginia.
We approached Seoul about four o’clock in the afternoon, and I was thrilled at the sight of the first walled town I had ever beheld. The walls are very picturesque—built of great blocks of stone—hung with ivy, and give an impression of great age.
At the time of my arrival, and for some few years after, a very interesting custom was in vogue with regard to the closing of these gates. Korea had for centuries a signal fire service, by which news of peace or war was with telegraphic rapidity conveyed to Seoul, and by number, frequency of repetition and other expedients a tolerably useful code had been established. On the south mountain, within the walls, were four beacons, one for each point of the compass, to which these lines converged. Every evening as soon as the sun had set, when the bright glow of these four beacon fires published the fact that all was well in his majesty’s dominions, four officials, whose business it was to report to the king the message of the fires, presented themselves at the palace, and with low obeisance, each announced that all was well in the north—in the south—the east—and the west. On this, the palace band struck up its gayest airs, and when this music was heard, the signal was given for the tolling of the great curfew bell in the center of the city. When the extremely sweet and solemn, low and yet penetrating tones of this bell were heard, the ponderous gates were swung to and barred, not to be reopened till the ringing of the same bell at the first streak of dawn gave the signal to the keepers.
Entering through these gates, fortunately not yet closed, we saw narrow, filthy streets, flanked by low mud houses, either thatched with straw, or tiled. It has been aptly said that the city looks like a vast bed of mushrooms, since none of the Korean houses are built more than one story high.
The common people are very poor and their homes seem to an American wretchedly poor and comfortless, and yet, compared with the most destitute of London or New York, there are few who go cold or hungry in Seoul. Each dwelling is so arranged that the part of the house occupied by the women, which is called the anpang, or inner room, shall be screened from sight from the street and from those entering the gate—for every house has at least a tiny courtyard, part of which is also screened off (either by another wall, or by mats, or trees and bushes) for the women’s use.
Many of the homes of the poor consist of but one room, with a sort of outer shed, which is used as kitchen. Such a place often has no window, or at most only a tiny one, and both window and door are covered with white paper instead of glass. These doors are usually very low and narrow, so that even a small woman must stoop to enter, and within it is not always possible to stand upright except in the center, where the roof is highest. These small rooms are easily heated by means of a system of flues built under the floor, which consists of stone and mud. A fire of brush and twigs is kindled under one side of the house, and as the chimney opens at the other side, the draft naturally carries smoke and heat through the flues, the floor becomes very hot, and the whole room is quickly warmed. The fireplace is built in with pots for boiling the rice—so that a great advantage is obtained in the matter of economy, the one fire booth cooks and warms. Wherever it can be afforded, a sarang, or men’s sitting room, which opens directly on the street or road, or upon the men’s court, is part of the establishment. Here any man may enter; male guests are entertained, and fed, and here they sleep. No men not members of the family or relatives ever enter the anpang.
It is needless to say that everything in connection with these houses is fearfully unsanitary, and many of them are filthy and full of vermin. All sewage flows out into the unspeakable ditches on either side of the street. Of late years efforts have been made to alter this state of things, better streets have been laid, and the open sewers, which have existed for many years, are sluiced out by the summer rains, which are the salvation of the city.
It was a great and delightful surprise when suddenly, entering a gate in a mud wall, we left behind us these dirty streets and saw around us a lovely lawn, flower beds, bushes and trees, and a pretty picturesque mission home. It was like magic. I found our mission in possession of native houses which had been occupied in past years by wealthy but now ruined or banished noblemen. They had been purchased at a ridiculously low price in a condition of dilapidation, repaired at little expense and the interiors more or less Europeanized. The one which I entered had, with great good taste, been left without other ceiling than its quaint and massive beams and rafters of blackened wood, the walls were prettily papered, and rugs and comfortable furniture and a few pictures and ornaments gave a homelike air. The rooms were spacious, and having been the dwelling of the rich, they were not so low or dark as those I have just described.
Our mission, which at that time had been established about four years, was high in favor with the government. Dr. Allen first, and later Dr. Heron, were the official physicians to the king, who had established a government hospital, over which he had placed them in charge. Miss Ellers, lately married, had been appointed medical adviser to the queen and had been placed in charge of the women’s department of the hospital, both of which positions she had resigned after her marriage, and to both of which I had been appointed to succeed. The members of the mission whom I found were Dr. and Mrs. Heron, Rev. H. G. Underwood and Mrs. Bunker (formerly Miss Ellers). Dr. and Mrs. Allen had returned to America on an official mission.
Work had been well started, the hospital was daily crowded with patients, in addition to which Dr. Heron had a large foreign and native practice, as well as a hospital school for the instruction of future drug clerks and medical students. Mr. Underwood had established an orphan boys’ home and school, had assisted Dr. Allen in his clinics till the arrival of Dr. Heron, and was at that time, in addition to the entire care of the orphanage, teaching in the government hospital school, which it was hoped might be the stepping stone to a medical school. He was holding regular religious services, and about thirty had been baptized. He had made a long trip into the interior, up to the northern borders, selling tracts and preaching everywhere. Language helps were in preparation, and the Gospel of Mark in a tentative form had been translated. Miss Ellers was in charge of women’s medical work up to my arrival, and was high in favor with the queen, who had bestowed rank upon her, and many costly presents. She had also begun to work and train the first member of the girls’ school.
I found that help was much needed on all sides. The day after my arrival saw me installed at the hospital with an interpreter at my side. Here work usually lasted about three hours. My home was with Dr. and Mrs. Heron, who with warmest kindness had fitted up a sunny room for me. Here Dr. Heron and I had a joint dispensary, and here I was besieged at all hours by women desiring medical attention. I soon found that language study was continually interrupted very seriously by these applicants, who respected not times or seasons. I was of course called upon to visit patients in their homes, one of whom, the wife of the Chinese minister of state, Prince Uan (now a very prominent personage in Chinese matters), must be seen every day with an amount of ceremony which took not a little of my precious time. However, finding that others were being overworked, I consented to give two hours each day to teaching the little orphans arithmetic and English.
Of course we made slow progress, and floundered not a little when the teacher knew no Korean, and the pupils no English. This institution had the unqualified favor of the king, and except the hospital was the first institution in Korea which illustrated the loving-kindness of the Lord. We hoped it might become a successful school, where souls might be saved, ere they had been steeped for years in vice, and the first steps taken in the preparation of evangelists and preachers. Our duty and chief desire was of course to acquire the language, but this was much interrupted by this other work. As we stood there, such a little company among these dying millions, we could not realize that hours of preparation then meant doubled usefulness in years to come, and so time and energy, that should have been spent mainly in study, were poured out in hospital, dispensary and schools.
The new missionaries of these later days are put in a language incubator as soon as they arrive and kept there till they emerge full-fledged linguists, who have passed three searching examinations by the language committee of the missions. Then we sat down with an English-Chinese dictionary (most scholarly Koreans know a little Chinese), a Korean-French dictionary, a French grammar and a Korean reader with a small English primer on Korean, the Gospel of Mark and a Korean catechism for text books. We were presented to a Korean gentleman knowing not one syllable of English, or the first principles of the constructions of any language on earth, or even the parts of speech, and without the glimmering of an idea as to the best methods or any method of teaching, who yet was called, probably ironically, “a teacher,” from whom we were expected to pump with all diligence such information on the language as he was able to bestow. With scanty knowledge of French, more than rusty from long disuse, I labored and floundered, trying now this plan, now that, with continual interruptions and discouragements.
Before I could more than stammer a few sentences I was called upon to begin religious teaching, so undertook a Sunday school service with the little boys, using a catechism which I could not yet translate, but (knowing the sounds) could hear the boys recite. Soon after I began holding a Bible class with a few women, with the aid of a little native boy who had learned English and a former sorceress who could read the Chinese Scriptures. This woman would read the chapter, we all united in the Lord’s prayer and in singing the few hymns then translated, and I talked to the women through the medium of my little interpreter. I struggled and stumbled. The women were patient and polite, but to our Father it must have looked the spoiled tangled patchwork of the child who wished to help, with ignorant, untaught hands, and made a loving botch of it all.
Perhaps right here a few words about the Korean religions may be in place. Confucianism, Buddhism and Taouism all hold a sort of sway over the natives, and yet all have lost, to a great extent, the influence they once had. The majority have very little faith in any religion. Confucianism, otherwise a mere philosophical system of morals, has the strongest hold upon the people in the laws it enjoins for ancestor worship. This custom, enforced by the strongest and most widespread superstitions in the minds of the Koreans, binds them with fetters stronger than iron. If ancestors are not worshiped with most punctilious regard to every smallest detail of the law, dire calamities will befall, from the wrath of irate and neglected spirits. The servitude thus compelled is hard and wearisome, but not one jot or tittle must be omitted, and woe to the wretch who, embracing another doctrine, fails to perform these rites. He or she is looked upon as more than a traitor to home and friends, false to the most sacred obligations. Buddhism has fallen low, until very lately its priests were forbidden to enter the capital, and they rank next to the slayer of cattle, the lowest in the land.
A few Buddhist temples are maintained at government expense or by endowment, and women and children, and all the more ignorant, still worship and believe, to some extent. The same classes also worship and fear an infinite number of all sorts of evil deities—gods or demons, who infest earth, air and sea, gods of various diseases, and all trades; these in common with Satan himself must be propitiated with prayers and sacrifices, beating of drums, ringing of bells and other ceremonials too numerous to mention.
Over all other objects of worship, they believe, is the great Heavens, the personification of the visible heavens, who, as nearly as I can discover, is identical with the Baal referred to in the Old Testament; but everywhere their faith waxes more and more feeble in these old worn-out superstitions. In many cases only respect for ancient customs and public opinion keeps them even in appearance to the outward forms of worship. They are as sheep without a shepherd, lost in the wilderness, “faint and hungry, and ready to die,” and so when the gospel comes, it finds many weary souls, ready to take Christ’s yoke upon them and find his rest.
And yet how hopeless looked the task we had before us in those days, a little company of scarce a dozen people, including our Methodist brethren, many of us able to stammer only a few words of the language as yet, attempting to introduce Christianity into a nation of fourteen or more millions of people, in the place of their long established religions; and beginning with a few poor farmers and old women. But the elements of success, the certainty of victory, lay in the divine nature of the religion, and in the Almighty God who sent us with it. This knowledge inspired us and this alone.
A few days after my arrival in Seoul a messenger came from the queen, to bid me welcome, and inquire if I had had a pleasant journey, and shortly after Mrs. Heron asked some of the queen’s attendants to meet me at luncheon. These women are not, as in other courts, ladies of high rank, for such could never, under Korean customs, endure the publicity of the palace, but are taken as children and young girls from the middle and lower classes, and entirely separated from all others, to the service of their majesties. They usually hold no rank, and are treated with respect, only on account of their relations to the royal family. They wear on all state occasions immense quantities of false hair, which gives them a peculiarly grotesque appearance; are much powdered and perfumed, with pencilled and shaven eyebrows; wear long flowing silken robes, gilded ornaments in their hair and at their waists; and present the sad spectacle of women whose very decorations seem only to add to and emphasize their painful uncomeliness.
MAIN ENTRANCE TO PALACE. [PAGE 20]
Korean women as a rule are not beautiful. I, who love them as much as any one ever did, who look upon them as my own sisters, must confess this. Sorrow, hopelessness, hard labor, sickness, lovelessness, ignorance, often, too often, shame, have dulled their eyes, and hardened and scarred their faces, so that one looks in vain for a semblance of beauty among women over twenty-five years of age. Among the little maids and young wives (saixies), who do not yet show the effects of the heavy hand of care and toil, one often finds a sweet bright gentle face that is pretty, winning, and very rarely even beautiful. But these poor palace women come not under that class; hardened, coarse and vulgar, their appearance only calls forth compassion. I found to my surprise that they were all smokers, and they were equally surprised that I would not accept their invitation to join them in this indulgence. They examined my dress and belongings with childish curiosity, and deluged me with questions as to my age, why I had never married, whether I had children, and why not, and other things equally impertinent and hard to answer; but were after all good natured, friendly and well meaning.
This was my first introduction to Korean officialdom, and following this within a very short time came another, in the form of a luncheon and acrobatic entertainment given for me by the President of the Foreign Office, Kim Yun Sik. This invitation came for the following Sunday—and troubled me, because I was afraid the official (who was quite ignorant of our customs and was offering me a flattering evidence of courtesy and good will) would be hurt by my refusal to accept an invitation for that day, and would very likely misunderstand it. However, there was nothing else to be done, and with suitable explanations, I announced my extreme regret at being obliged to refuse his kindness.
With great good feeling, he then changed the day, and I was given carte blanche to invite my friends, and of course asked the ladies of the Methodist mission, as well as our own. Several Korean gentlemen of high rank, including those in connection with the hospital, and others, had also been invited by my host. The table, for in deference to our foreign custom, one long table, instead of a number of small ones, had been arranged—was piled high with Korean dainties. Chicken, pheasant and other cold meats, fish, eggs, nuts and fruits prepared in many fanciful ways, Chinese preserved fruits and candies, a gutta-percha-like delicacy called “dock,” made of rice and oil pounded well together, an alcoholic native beverage called sül, and champagne and cigars. It is needless to say that we Americans did not partake of these latter additions to the menu. A vast crowd from the streets poured into the large courtyard, to see the acrobats, who were a strolling band hired for the occasion. Their performance consisted chiefly in tight-rope walking and tumbling, and was in no way remarkable. It lasted, however, nearly three hours, during all of which time we listened to the monotonous whining of the Korean band, more like a Scotch bagpipe (dear cousins, forgive) than anything else I know of; and learned the Korean verb “anchera” (sit down), which I heard that day repeated a thousand times, in all its moods, tenses and case endings, in tones of exasperation to the irrepressible Korean boy, who would stand up to see, just for all the world like some boys of whiter skin, nearer home.
Just before this, Mr. Underwood and Mr. Appenzeller had started on a long itinerating trip toward the north, the second Mr. Underwood had undertaken. While they were absent the wrath of the Korean king and cabinet against the Romanists reached the boiling point, and culminated in a decree forbidding the further teaching of foreign religions in the ports. The country was not open to us (as it is not to-day, except by special passports). The Romanists, with their well-known love of chief seats and high places, failing to profit by their former experiences of trouble from similar causes in China, insisted upon choosing as the site for their future cathedral one of the highest points in the city, overlooking the palace, and adjoining the temple holding royal ancestral tablets. The property had been obtained unknown to the king, through the medium of Korean agents, and though he used his utmost endeavors, both with the priests and with the French legation, to induce them to change this for any other site, they remained obdurate, utterly refused to yield, and proceeded to lay the foundation of their church. The decree immediately followed, and the American minister advised, nay ordered, us to recall our missionaries, who most unwillingly returned. There were, indeed, those who asserted that this early attempt to carry the Gospel into the interior had been, at least in part, the cause of the obnoxious decree, which made it look as if our work was, for a time at least, at an end. That this was not so was proved by the fact that Mr. Underwood had hardly returned ere he was waited upon by a committee consisting of high Korean nobles and members of the cabinet, offering him the entire charge of their government school, with a generous salary, and with the full understanding that he would not hesitate to teach Christianity to the pupils.
This offer, displaying the great confidence, instead of the displeasure and suspicion which foreigners assured us was the feeling of the Koreans toward our evangelistic workers, was taken into serious consideration, but was finally refused on account of its interference with other work, and for other reasons equally important.
It remained to us all to decide upon our course of conduct with regard to the prohibitory decree. Some of our number—the majority—argued, that as it was the law of the land, nothing remained for Christian law-abiding people but to obey it, to stop holding even morning prayers in our schools, to hold no religious services with Koreans, but to wait and pray, until God should move the king’s heart, and have the decree rescinded. By this course they believed we should win favor with the authorities, while defiance or disobedience might cause our whole mission to be expelled from the country.
A small minority, however, Mr. Appenzeller, now with the Lord, his wife, Mr. Underwood and myself, held that the decree had never been issued against us or our work, and that even if it had, we were under higher orders than that of a Korean king. Our duty was to preach and take the consequences, resting for authority on the word of God, spoken through Peter, in Acts, 4:19, to the rulers who forbade the apostles to preach, “Whether it be right in the sight of God, to hearken unto you, more than unto God, judge ye, for we cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard.” Others might stop, as they did, with sorrow, conscientiously believing that to be the best course; we continued to teach and preach, in public and private, singing hymns, which could be heard far and near, in the little meeting-house. No attempt was ever made in any way to hinder us. Christians and other attendants on services came and went unmolested. Christianity has grown much since then, and is acknowledged as a factor in the politics of more than one province. No one ever thinks now of disguising or in any way concealing our work, yet that law has never to this day been rescinded. This is exactly in accord with Eastern customs. Laws become a dead letter, and pass into disuse; they are not often annulled.
Another event of interest, which occurred during these first months after my arrival in Korea, was the excitement culminating in what were called “the baby riots.” Similar troubles in Tientsin, China, had some years previously resulted in the massacre of a number of foreigners, including Jesuit priests, nuns and two or three French officials.
Some person or persons, with malicious intent, started a rumor which spread like wild-fire, that foreigners were paying wicked Koreans to steal native children, in order to cut out their hearts and eyes, to be used for medicine. This crime was imputed chiefly to the Japanese, and it was supposed the story had been originated by Chinese or others especially inimical to the large numbers of Japanese residents in the capital. Mr. Underwood acquainted the Japanese minister with the rumors, in order that he might protect himself and his people; which he promptly did by issuing, and causing to be issued by the government, proclamations entirely clearing his countrymen of all blame in the matter, which it was left to be understood was an acknowledged fact, and consequently the work of other “vile foreigners,” namely, ourselves and the Europeans. The excitement and fury grew hourly. Large crowds of angry people congregated, scowling, muttering, and threatening. Koreans carrying their own children were attacked, beaten, and even killed, on the supposition that they were kidnapping the children of others; and a high Korean official, who tried to protect one of these men, was pulled from his chair, and narrowly escaped with his life, although he was surrounded by a crowd of retainers and servants. It was considered unsafe for foreigners to be seen in the street. Marines were called up from Chemulpo to guard the different legations, and some Americans even packed away their most necessary clothing and valuables, preparatory to fleeing to the port. The wildest stories were told. Babies, it was said, had been eaten at the German, English, and American legations, and the hospital, of course, was considered by all the headquarters of this bloodthirsty work, for there, where medicine was manufactured and diseases treated, the babies must certainly be butchered.
One day, when returning from my clinic, my chair was surrounded by rough-looking men, who told my bearers that they should all be killed if they carried me to the hospital again; and such was the terror inspired, that these men positively refused to take me thither the following day. So I rode on horseback through the city to the hospital, Mr. Underwood, who also had duties at the hospital school, acting as my escort. We went and returned quite unmolested, and it has been my experience then and later, that a bold front and appearance of fearlessness and unconcern in moments of danger impress Asiatics, and act as a great safeguard for the foreigner.
In the meanwhile, however, the European foreign representatives had awakened to the fact that a very real danger threatened our little community, and might ripen at any moment into destruction. Proclamations from the Foreign Office were posted everywhere, but the earliest of these were mistakenly worded, leaving the impression still that possibly some “vile foreigner” had instituted these awful deeds, and that should he be discovered sore punishment would follow. At last, however, a notice appeared, written at the dictation of these same “vile foreigners,” in which it was positively stated that not only had no such thing been done by any foreigners, but that should any one be caught uttering these slanders, he would be at once arrested, and unless able to prove the truth of his tales, be punished with death. Detectives and police officers were scattered everywhere through the city, people were forbidden to stand in groups of twos and threes, a few arrests were made, and the riots were at an end.
KOREAN OFFICIAL IN CHAIR. [PAGE 16]
Before calm was restored, however, we had some uncertain, not to say uneasy, hours. On the evening of the day when the excitement had been at its highest, we received word from the American legation that should there be evidence that the mob were intending to attack our homes, a gun would be fired in the legation grounds as a signal, and we were then to hasten thither for mutual safety and defense.
It was a calm starlit July night. We sat in the little porch leading into our compound, enjoying the cool evening air, when suddenly a terrific illumination of blazing buildings lit up the horizon, and a fearful hubbub of a shouting, yelling mob assailed our ears. With beating hearts we watched and listened. Some one said Korean mobs always began by burning houses, and while we waited, wondering what it all meant, the air was rent by the sharp, quick report of a gun from the American legation.
This seemed to leave no doubt as to the real state of affairs, and Mr. Underwood and Mr. Hulbert at once repaired to the legation to make sure that there was no mistake, but soon returned, with the welcome news, that the firing of the gun had been accidental. The burning buildings also proved to have been only a coincidence, and the noise nothing more than common with a Korean crowd round a fire. In a way that still seems to be miraculous, the raging of the heathen was quieted, God was round about us, the danger that looked inevitable passed away, and all was calm.
Not long after this came the first request from the palace for me to attend on the queen, to which I responded not without some anxiety, lest through some unlooked-for occurrence some misstep on my part, the work of our mission so auspiciously begun should be hindered or stopped. As yet somewhat uncertain of our foothold, ignorant to a large extent of the people with whom we had to deal, we trembled lest some inadvertence might close the door, only so lately and unwillingly opened. I had been told I must always go in full court dress, but when I came to open the boxes, which contained the gowns prepared for this purpose, I found that both had been ruined in crossing the Pacific and could not be worn. Alas! how inauspicious to be obliged to appear before royalty in unsuitable attire, which might be attributed to disrespect! But a far more serious trouble than this weighed upon my mind as my chair coolies jogged me along the winding streets and alleys to the palace grounds. I had been strictly warned not to say anything to the queen on the subject of religion. “We are only here on sufferance,” it was urged, “and even though our teaching the common people may be overlooked and winked at, if it is brought before the authorities so openly and boldly, as it would be to introduce it into the palace, even our warmest friends might feel obliged to utterly forbid further access to the royal family, if not to banish us altogether from the country.” “Wait,” it was said, “until our footing is more assured; do not risk all through impatience.”
I saw the logic of these words, though my heart talked hotly in a very different way; but I went to the palace with my mouth sealed on the one subject I had come to proclaim.