Korea

by A. Hamilton

In the case of Quelpart, this feeling of animosity, and the immunity from taxation which the French priests gave to their following, created an intolerable position. Anarchy swept over the island, and some six hundred believers were put summarily to death. Whatever may be the compensating advantages of this martyrdom, the reckless and profligate sacrifice of life, which missionary indiscretion in the Far East has promoted, is an outrage upon modern civilisation. We have passed through one terrible anti-Christian upheaval in China, and, if we wish to avoid another such manifestation, it is necessary to superintend all forms of missionary enterprise more closely. This, however, can be done only by legislative supervision, imposing restraint in the direction which recent events have indicated. It is imperative that certain measures should be adopted in missionary work which will ensure the safety of the individual zealot, and be agreeable to the general comfort of the community. It is unfortunate, but inevitable, that such reforms must be radical. The violence of missionary enterprise during recent years has been altogether unbridled. The great activity of the different societies, resulting from their unrestricted liberty, has recoiled most fatally upon the more indefatigable, as well as upon the heads of many wholly innocent of any unwarrantable religious persecution. The time has come, therefore, when vigorous restrictions should chasten this vigorous, polemical proselytism. The practice of scattering missionaries broadcast over the interior of these Far Eastern countries should not continue; the assent of the local Consul and a representative council of the Foreign Ministers should be required in every case. Moreover, it would be wiser, if, under no conceivable circumstances, single women were permitted to proselytise beyond the carefully prescribed treaty limits of the different settlements. Again, missionaries with families, as well as single women, should not be allowed to live beyond the areas of these neutral zones.

THE STREETS ARE MAGNIFICENT

These restraints upon missionary labours will, of course, be resented. If the total number of lives which have been lost in Korea, China, and Japan, by the interference of Western missionaries, were published, their vast aggregate would reveal to the unthinking masses of the public how urgent is the need for strong action. Such restraint is morally justifiable by the appalling massacres with which the world is now familiar. The blind perseverance of the missionary has frequently brought about the simultaneous baptism and crucifixion of the convert. What more does the fanatical enthusiast wish than that some one should be thus doubly glorified by his means? The increasing death-roll among masters and pupils supplies the only necessary argument for immediate rectification of the entire system of missionary enterprise.

CHAPTER XXIII

Inland journeying—Ponies, servants, interpreters, food and accommodation—What to take and how to take it—Up the Han River, frolic and leisure

Travelling in the inland regions of Korea is not the most comfortable pastime which can be devised, although it has many attractions. The lively bustle of the roads gradually gives place to the passing panorama of the scenery, which presents in constant variation a landscape of much natural beauty, with hills and meadows, bush-clad mountains and rice-fields, rivers, lakes, and raging torrents as prominent features. The shifting camp soon leaves the outposts of civilisation behind. This slow passing into the wilderness gives a subtle charm to the journey. Each turn of the track emphasises the desolation of the ever-changing scene. The wide expanse of plains and valleys makes way for the depths of wild and gloomy forests, where the ragged mountain-paths are slippery and dangerous. The ozone of a new life pervades the air. There is no doubt that such moments seem, for the time, the most perfect existence imaginable. Freedom is untrammelled by a care; the world for the day is comprised within a space as great as can be seen. Upon the morrow, its limitation is only a little more remote. The birds of the air, the beasts of the field, the game in the bushes, supply the provender of the camp. Villages provide rice, vegetables and eggs, the hillside springs give water, the rivers permit bathing. The air is pure, and the whole aspect of life is beautiful and joyous.

At the end of a trying day, one, perhaps, marred by an accident to an animal, trouble with the native servants, rain, fog, or the difficulties of the track, there is the evening camp. Those hours of rest and idleness, when the horses are fed and groomed, the packs unswung, the camp-beds slung beneath the mosquito curtains, and the evening meal prepared, are full of a supreme sensation of contentment. I have always loved these moments of peace, accepting what they brought as the best that life held for me at the time. At such an hour the refinements of civilisation and the restrictions of convention seem puerile enough. Moreover, there is much material benefit to be derived from such an undertaking. The trials and difficulties develop stability of character; the risks and dangers promote resource and self-reliance. There is much to be learnt from this contact with a human nature differing so radically from the prescribed types and patterns of the Western standard. There is something new in every phase of the experience. If it be only an impression, such as I have endeavoured to trace in these few lines, it is one which lingers in the mind long after other memories have faded.

Preparation for an inland journey of any extent takes a considerable time; ponies have to be hired, servants engaged, and interpreters secured. It is as well to personally examine the pack ponies which are to carry the loads. Koreans treat their animals shamefully, and the missionaries make no efforts to lighten the lot of these unhappy beasts. In consequence of the carelessness with which the ponies are treated by their Korean masters, the poor little brutes suffer from back-sores larger and more dreadful than anything I have seen in any other part of the globe. If the Koreans could be taught the rudiments of horse-mastering and a more humane principle of loading and packing their rough saddles, as well as some practical veterinary knowledge, the lot of the unlucky little pony of the capital might be softened. But the spectacle of broken knees, raw necks, bleeding backs, and sore heels which these poor animals present, as they pass in quick succession along the streets of Seoul, is revolting. The American missionaries boast so much of their good deeds that it seems strange that they should neglect such a crying evil as this. There is, I presume, no credit to be “gotten” from alleviating the sufferings of a mere, broken-down, Korean pack pony.