In Korea with Marquis Ito

by George Trumbull Ladd

On our arrival at the station in Pyeng-yang two of the missionaries met us with a friendly greeting. Before taking our jinrikishas for the house of Dr. Noble, who was to be our host, I walked for a short distance over the gravelled plain surrounding the station to where some 100 or 120 school-boys were drawn up in military line to give the foreign teacher a welcome. This promptly took his mind and heart back to Japan as well as carried it forward to the future generation of Korean men. On one side, dressed in kakhi and looking very important, stood the larger number, who were members of the Christian school, connected with the Methodist mission. But right opposite in Korean costume of plum-colored cloth were arrayed some thirty or forty pupils of a neighboring Confucian school. It was a matter of interest and significance to learn that just recently the latter, on receiving overtures of friendly alliance, had agreed to a meeting for the discussion of terms; and when the proposal had been made that the “heathen school” should become Christian, it had been promptly accepted! This was, of course, a way of achieving unity entirely satisfactory to the missionaries. At the time of our visit the wife of the head-master of the Confucian school and the wife of one of the teachers had become earnest and active Bible-women.

While we were being conveyed in jinrikishas to the foot of the hill on which stands the house of our host, and as well the church and other buildings belonging to the mission, the Doctor himself was getting home in a different way. This was by means of a tram, the rude car of which seated six persons, three on each side, facing outward and back to back, but with Korean coolies for their motive power—thus reviving, of course, in new form the time-worn joke about the Far East’s “Pullman car.” As to the position and significance of the group of buildings, in one of which we were to be entertained for nearly a week, I avail myself of the description in the Seoul Press, published subsequently by its editor who was the Japanese friend and companion of this trip. “As his railway train approaches the city, the first objects that catch his eyes are a cluster of buildings, some in foreign style, others in half foreign and half Korean style, which crown the hill-tops and constitute the most conspicuous feature of the magnificent landscape that developes itself before his eyes. His wonder increases still more, as the visitor inquires into the result of the great missionary activity of which these buildings are outward manifestations. How great the success has been may be imagined, when it is computed by a very competent authority that fully one-third of the entire Korean population of the city (roughly estimated at between 40,000 and 50,000) are professing Christians. There are Koreans and Japanese, apparently in a position to know, who put the proportion of the Christian section of the population at much higher figures; they confidently say that quite one-half of the whole population belongs to the new faith.... The success which the work of Christian propagandism has attained in Pyeng-yang is all the more marvellous when it is remembered that the work was commenced scarcely more than fifteen years ago. The success of the work has not been confined to the city alone; it is noticeable, though not quite in like degree, in the adjacent districts and all over North Korea which looks up to Pyeng-yang as the fountain and centre of the new religious life.”

On the following day, which was Saturday, I had my first experience with one of the larger Korean audiences. The numbers in Seoul had been, at most, some 500 or 600. But here, although the address was in the afternoon, no fewer than 1,700, all, with the exception of a few foreign ladies, of the male sex, assembled in the Methodist meeting-house which was just across a narrow lane from the gate of Dr. Noble’s residence. The peculiarities of such an audience are worthy of a brief description. All were seated on the floor. Close around the platform, on which were a few of the missionaries and of the Japanese officials, were grouped several hundred school-boys, packed as thickly as herrings in a box. These were dressed in garments of many and bright colors. Back of them and reaching to the doors, massed solidly with no aisles or empty spaces left between, were Korean men, in their picturesque monotone of white clothing and black crinoline hats. The audiences at Pyeng-yang, as at Seoul, were much more restless and seemingly volatile than those of the same size which I had addressed in Japan; although it should be remembered that the latter were chiefly composed of teachers, officials, and men prominent in business and in the professions, whereas this audience, although largely Christian, was of the lowly and comparatively ignorant. A distinctly religious character was given to all the meetings in Pyeng-yang by prayer and by the singing of Christian hymns. The tunes were familiar; and although the language was far removed in structure and vocabulary, the attempt had evidently been made, with only a partial success, to reproduce in a rhythmic way the English words which had been set to them. The singing was led by a Korean chorister who used his baton in a vigorous and fairly effective, if not wholly intelligent, fashion. The cabinet organ was also played by a young Korean man. The missionaries say that the people show great interest and even enthusiasm in learning foreign music; and that they are apt pupils so far as the singing of hymns is concerned. The favorite native music is a dismal wailing upon pipes and rude flute-like instruments, accompanied by the tom-tom of drums. The address on this occasion was upon the relation of education to the social welfare; it was interpreted by Dr. Noble with obvious clearness and vigor.

The audience next morning (Sunday, April 7th) was not so large, but was scarcely less interesting. It comprised both sexes, separated, however, by a tight screen which ran from the platform through the middle of the church to the opposite wall. The numbers present were some 1,400, about equally divided between the two sexes. The girls on the one side, and the boys on the other, in their gaily colored clothing, were massed about the platform; and back of them the women and the men—both in white, but the former topped out with white turbans and the latter with their black hats. The entire audience marked out upon the floor an impressive color-scheme. It was said that there were enough of the population of the city attending Christian services at that same hour to make three congregations of the same size. The afternoon gathering for Bible study and the evening services were even more crowded; so that the aggregate number of church-goers that Sunday in this Korean city of somewhat more than 40,000 could not have been less than 13,000 or 14,000 souls. Considering also the fact that each service was stretched out to the minimum length of two hours, there was probably no place in the United States that could compete with Pyeng-yang for its percentage of church-goers on that day. Yet ten years ago there was in all the region scarcely the beginning of a Christian congregation.

In the afternoon I spoke to about thirty of the missionaries, telling them, in informal address, of certain economic, social, and religious changes in the United States, which seemed to me destined profoundly to affect the nature of Christian missions in so-called “heathen lands.” Nor did it seem incongruous when prayer was offered that the “home land” might receive in its present great need some of the blessings which were being experienced in heathen Korea. For I had long been of the opinion that if the word “heathen” is to be used with that tinge of moral and intellectual opprobrium which usually attaches to it, all so-called Christian countries are in some important respects very considerably entitled to the term. And, indeed, who that understands the true spirit of the religion of Christ shall hesitate to confess that America and American churches as sorely need deliverance from the demons of cowardice, avarice, and pride, as do the Koreans from the superstitious fear of devils or of the spirits of their own ancestors?

The audience of Monday morning numbered 800; it seemed, however, from the point of view which regards social and political standing, to be of decidedly superior quality. This was probably due, in part at least, to the nature of the theme, which was—“Education and the Stability and Progress of the Nation.” The attention, too, appeared to be more thoughtful and unwavering at this meeting.

The public speaking at Pyeng-yang was concluded by an address, especially designed for the Japanese official classes and prominent business men, and given in the hall of the Japanese Club on the afternoon of the day before leaving the city. There were present about one hundred and fifty of this class of hearers. To them I spoke very plainly, praising their preparation for, and conduct of, the war with Russia; then warning them of the difficulties and dangers in business and politics which the rivalries of peace would compel the nation to face; and, finally, exhorting them to maintain the honor of Japan in Korea, before the civilized world, by treating the Koreans in an honorable way. Although, according to the testimony of the Japanese friend who interpreted this address, there were uneasy consciences in the audience, the warning and the rebuke, as well as the praise, were received with equal appreciation and gratitude. I take this opportunity to testify that, instead of deserving the reputation often given to the Japanese, of being abnormally and even ridiculously sensitive to criticism, I have found them, on the contrary, remarkably willing to be told of their failures and faults, and ready to receive, at least with the appearance of respect and kindness, suggestions for their correction and amendment.

My engagements in Pyeng-yang came so near to the limit of exhausting my time and strength that I was unable to see as much as would have been otherwise desirable of the externals, and of the antiquities, of the neighborhood. From the piazza in front of our host’s house nearly the whole of the Korean city lies literally spread out, as all the cities of the country are, beneath the eye of the observer from a surrounding hill. The streets within the walls are, with one or two exceptions, narrow, winding, and made disgusting by foul sights and smells. Here there has been little or none of that widening of thoroughfares and superficial cleaning which has given a partial relief, both to the aspect and to the reality of Seoul. But, as has already been said, the natural situation is beautiful. Under the advice of Japan, a part of the now useless city wall went to make a fine bund; while the space left by the clearing was converted into a street. On passing through an indescribably foul, narrow lane, which makes a disgraceful break between the broad, clean thoroughfare of the Japanese settlement and the fairly broad but dirty street of the Korean city, we were told the following story of the recent attempt of the Resident to get this passage widened. The story is so characteristic of relations between the two peoples that I turn aside to tell it.

Feeling the great and obvious importance of having this public improvement made, the Resident called a meeting of the adjoining property-owners to discuss the terms which would be satisfactory to them. The Japanese owners agreed to contribute the land necessary for the purpose and to move back the buildings at their own expense; the Korean owners agreed to cede the land if the expense of moving the buildings was borne by the Government. The Resident went for a few weeks to Japan, expecting that the agreement would stand, and that by his return the improvement would be well begun. Immediately after his departure, however, two Korean Christians, who had remained away from the meeting for discussing terms, induced the other Koreans to break their compact and refuse to surrender the land for less than 200 yen per tsubo (6 × 6 ft.)—an absurdly extravagant price. The attempt at doing this much-needed work came, therefore, to a complete standstill. The whole transaction was reported by the Korean Daily News of Seoul with its customary felicitous (?) misrepresentation, as follows: “People in Pyeng-yang are greatly stirred up over the demand of the Japanese that the Korean houses on each side of the road outside the South Gate be torn down to widen the road. The people gathered at the office of the prefect and protested against such seizure without proper compensation, and they said they would die sooner than give in to such an imposition.” I can assure the reader that much of the fraud and oppression charged against the Japanese by the Koreans and by their so-called “foreign friends” (even including some of the missionaries) is of the same order. [A letter from Pyeng-yang to the Seoul Press, published not long after our return, announced that the “widening of the approach between the Japanese city and the old town of Pyeng-yang is now under way, and soon a fine wide road will lead from the railway station to the Gate”—all of which means that when the Korean property-owners found their attempts at lying and swindling were not going to succeed, they saw the advantage of renewing the original contract.]

A row up the river in his boat, kindly furnished by Mr. Kikuchi, the Japanese Resident, afforded several pleasant hours of recreation as well as an opportunity to see for ourselves something more of the present condition and future prospects of the chief city of Northern Korea. The city gate through which we reached the river is the finest thing about its ancient fortifications. The views of the bank, which rises in most places bluff and high above the water, are very picturesque and crowded with scenes of both immediate and historical interest. Scores of junks and sampans, loaded with many kinds of goods—for the most part, however, of no great value—are either moored to the narrow beach below the bank or are slowly finding their way up and down the river. At different heights of the banks, standing on projecting ledges or on platforms, men were cutting inscriptions upon the rocky sides in Chinese characters. These were designed to celebrate for future generations the virtues and successes of living merchants and magistrates; but these workmen of to-day were only adding a few more to the much more numerous inscriptions commemorating the otherwise forgotten and, for the most part undoubtedly, really ignoble dead. By the brink of the river were the Korean women at their never-ceasing task of washing and pounding dry the white clothing of their male lords. At one bend in the river, where the projecting cliff acts as an effective breakwater against the winter ice and the summer freshets, the top is crowned by a pavilion which occupies the place where negotiations went on between the Chinese and the Japanese at the time of the Hideyoshi invasion.