Preparations being completed for travelling to the Korean frontier, and into Korea as far as Kyöng-heung, a town which a Trade Convention in 1888 opened to the residence of Russian subjects in the hope of creating a market there after the style of Kiachta, I had an interview with Mr. Matunin, the Frontier Commissioner, who gave me a very unpleasant account of insecurity on the frontier owing to the lawlessness of the Chinese troops, and an introduction to the Governor of Kyöng-heung.
A large tarantass with three ponies and a driver, a Korean on another pony, and the Korean headman of a neighboring village, who spoke Russian well, and our saddles were our modest outfit. The details of the two days’ journey to the Tu-men are too monotonous for infliction on the reader. The road was infamous, and at times disappeared altogether on a hillside or in a swamp, and swamps are frequent for the first 40 versts. The tarantass, always attempting a gallop, bounced, bumped, and thumped, till breathing became a series of gasps. Occasionally we stuck fast in swampy streams where the ice was broken, being extricated by a tremendous, united, and apparently trained, jump on the part of the ponies, which compelled a strong grip of the vehicle with hands and feet, and would have dislocated any other. Mr. Heidemann smoked cigarettes unceasingly, and made no remarks.
We crossed the head of Possiet Bay and other inlets at a gallop on thin ice, forded several streams in the aforesaid fashion, and passed through several Korean coast villages given up to the making of salt by a rude process, the finished product being carted away to Hun-chun in China in baskets of finely woven reeds. These Chinese carts are drawn by seven mules each, constantly driven at a gallop.
After 30 versts the country became very hilly, with rugged mountains in the distance, all without a tree or bush, and covered with coarse and fine grasses mixed up with myriads of withered flower stalks of Compositæ and Umbelliferæ, and here and there a lonely, belated purple aster shivered in the strong keen wind, which made an atmosphere at zero somewhat hard to face. The valleys are flat and broad, and their rich black soil, the product of ages of decaying vegetation, is absolutely stoneless. Almost all crops can be raised upon it. Besides being a rich agricultural country, the region is well suited for cattle breeding. There were large herds on the hills, and haystacks thickly scattered over the landscape indicated abundance of winter keep. The potato, which flourishes and is free from the disease, is largely cultivated, and is now with the Koreans an article of ordinary diet.
The whole of this fine country is settled by Koreans, for the few hamlets of wretched, tumble-down Chinese houses are of no account. Whether as squatters or purchasers, they are making the best of the land. The number of their domestic animals enables them to fertilize it abundantly; they plough deep, and rotate their crops, and get a splendid yield from their lands. We halted at Saretchje, a village of 120 families, admirably housed, and with all material comforts abounding about them. Out of its 600 inhabitants, 450 have “conformed.” The Koreans, having no religion, are apparently not unwilling to secure the possible advantages of conversion, and though none of the Greek priests who conversed with me were enthusiastic about their “consistency,” it is at least more satisfactory to see an “Ecce Homo” on the wall than the family dæmon.
At distances of 3 and 4 miles there are Korean villages, of which prosperity in greater or less degree is a characteristic. The houses are large and well-built, and the farmyards are well stocked with domestic animals, the people and children are well clothed, and the village lands carefully cultivated.
A long ascent, during which the road, which for some time had been intermittent, gradually disappeared, leads to the summit of a high hill, from which the mountainous frontiers of Russia, China, and Korea are seen to converge. After losing our way and our time, and crossing several ranges of hills without a road, just as the winter sun was setting in a flood of red gold, glorifying the mountains on the Chinese frontier, a turn round a bluff revealed what is geographically and politically a striking view.
The whole of the Russo-Korean frontier, 11 miles in length, and a broad river full of sandbanks, passing through a desert of sandhills to the steely blue ocean, lay crimson in the sunset. On a steep bluff above the river a tall granite slab marks the spot where the Russian and Chinese frontiers meet. Across the Tu-men, the barren mountains of Korea loomed purple through a haze of gold. Three empires are seen at a glance. A small and poor Korean village is situated in a valley below. Close to the Boundary Stone, on the high steep bluff above the Tu-men, there is a large mud hut from which most of the whitewash had scaled off, with thatch held on by straw ropes, weighted with stones.
It was a very lonely scene. A Korean told us that it was absolutely impossible for us to sleep at the village. A Cossack came out of the hut, took a long look at us, and returned. Then a forlorn-looking corporal appeared, who also took a long look, and having hospitable instincts, came up and told us that the village was impossible except for the drivers and horses, but that he could put us up roughly in the hut, which consisted of one fair sized room, another very small one, and a lean-to.
The latest English papers had stated that “Russia has lately massed 5,000 men on the Korean frontier, and 4,000 at Hun-chun.” It is not desirable to make any inquiries about the positions and numbers of Russian troops, and I had prudently abstained from asking questions, and had looked forward with interest to seeing a great display of military force. This hut is the military post of Krasnoye Celo, and the “army” of Russia “massed on her Korean frontier” consisted of 15 men and a corporal, the officer being required to endure the isolation of the position for six months, and the privates for one. The roars of laughter which greeted the English statement were not complimentary to newspaper accuracy.