KOREA

TABLET IN SEOUL

KOREA

BY
ANGUS HAMILTON

WITH A NEWLY PREPARED MAP
AND NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS

NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
153-157 FIFTH AVENUE
1904

All rights reserved

TO MY MOTHER

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

INTRODUCTION

Nothing is more natural than the circumstance that war should be the outcome of the existing crisis; yet, equally, nothing is less certain. If the area of hostilities were not confined to the Far East, and the Power confronting Japan were any other than Russia, the outbreak of war might be predicted positively. But with Russia, consideration of the strategic qualities of her position in Manchuria must exercise a paramount influence upon her movements. To those who are not close students of military history, as well as to those who do not possess an extensive knowledge of the situation, the position in which Russia is placed equally affords the keenest interest. Certainly in the annals of military history, excluding the march of Napoleon upon Moscow, there is no war which may be said to have developed a parallel to the task which besets Russia in Manchuria and Korea. Her position at sea, moreover, is no better than that which she holds on land. Upon land, a single line of railway traversing the heart of an enemy’s country terminates at Port Arthur. At sea, Vladivostock is cut off by reason of its position, while it is inaccessible on account of its climate. These points, Port Arthur and Vladivostock, define the extremities of the strategic position which Russia holds in Manchuria. Excluding Vladivostock at this moment from any especial consideration, Port Arthur is left for the opening moves of this campaign. Therefore, Port Arthur, with a single line of communications in its rear, becomes the pivot of the operations.

The aspect of Port Arthur from the sea is uninviting. Rugged hills, offshoots from the range of mountains which divides the Liao-tung peninsula, cluster round the bay, and encroaching upon the foreshore and bearing neither trees nor vegetation, impart to the surroundings a desolate and even wild appearance. Within the headlands of the harbour, conforming with the indentations of the coast, there are several bays shallow and unprofitable, but which in time may become an important adjunct to the small area of deep water which the harbour now possesses. Dredging operations have been undertaken, but there is so much to be done that many years must pass before Port Arthur receives any material addition to its very restricted accommodation. The mud, brought down by the streams which empty into the harbour, has already affected the deep-water area, and since the harbour was constructed these deposits have encroached very considerably upon the depth off shore. At low water steamers, which lie up within sixty feet of the wharf, rest upon mud in little more than a fathom of water, and at the same time the space is so small that it is impossible for a dozen vessels to anchor in the harbour with any comfort. Steamers, if any larger in size than the small coasting-boats which call at Port Arthur from China and Japan must anchor off the entrance, unloading and re-charging from junks or tenders. In relation to the requirements of the squadron Port Arthur is not nearly large enough. When cruisers are taking in stores battleships remain outside, an arrangement which is manifestly inconvenient in a period of emergency. It was for this reason that the authorities constructed at Dalny—a few miles from the fortress and within Pa-tien-wan Bay—a new town, together with commercial docks and wharves, in order that Port Arthur might be devoted more particularly to the needs of the navy.

Port Arthur is happy in the possession of all those objects which, to a naval base, are component parts of its success. The dry dock, somewhat weak and unsubstantial, is 385 feet in length, 34 feet in depth, and 80 feet broad, while the naval basin is equal in surface space to the total available steamer anchorage in the harbour proper. When the dredging works in the harbour bays have been completed it is hoped that a mean depth of four fathoms will have been obtained. This systematic deepening of the harbour will give to the fleet a surface anchorage considerably in excess of one square mile, but until the work has been executed the value of Port Arthur as a satisfactory naval base is infinitely less than the prestige which it enjoys as an impregnable position.

Port Arthur possesses a small parade-ground, rifle-range, and artillery practice-ground, torpedo-station and training reservation, which will be enlarged when the bays are opened out. There is a flash-light station and various schools of instruction—torpedo, gunnery, telegraphy—while the arsenals and workshops which are built around the naval basin and within the navy yards are very thoroughly equipped. These effects, however, were mainly taken over by Russia when she seized Port Arthur; their existence at the present moment tends to show how impossible it is to under-estimate the advantages which Russia derives from the possession of this port, and how far-reaching are the consequences of the monstrous blunder which Lord Salisbury committed when he acquiesced in its usurpation.

Apart from the defences Russia, hitherto, has not added much to Port Arthur; for the main part the troops have been quartered in the old Chinese houses or in the former barracks of the Chinese troops, affairs having been somewhat neglected in view of the prior claim which the defences held. Now, however, fine barracks are in course of construction, and, if there is no war, it is anticipated that ample accommodation will be ready soon upon the shores of some of the bays and on the hills. The defences are indeed magnificent. Very few of the forts, which were in existence during the time of the Chinese, remain. Since the Russian Government entered upon possession the work of extending the perimeter of the defences, as well as strengthening the fortifications, has been a continuous labour. It is quite clear that the authorities are determined upon no half-measures. They have gained Port Arthur, and they propose to keep it. Upon the cliffs, rising immediately from the right of the harbour entrance, there is a most powerful position, formed, I believe, of a battery of six 21-inch Krupp guns, which was further supported by a fort placed a few feet above the harbour, and sweeping its immediate front, containing eight 10-inch Krupps. At the corresponding elevations upon the opposite headland there were two similar forts with identical batteries, while the mine fields within the harbour are controlled from these two lower positions. Following the hills to the south and north there are other forts; one in particular, of great size, is placed upon the extreme crest of the range, and, towering above all else, sweeps the sea and approaches to the harbour for great distances. It is impossible to detect the character of these guns, but from their position, and the extent of the fort and the nature of the part which they are intended to fill, it is improbable that they can be less than 27-ton guns, discharging shells of about 500 lb. The interior line of forts is no less formidable, and it must seem that Port Arthur can never be reduced by bombardment alone, while any force attacking by land would be severely handled by the positions from which the Russians propose to defend their flanks and the neck. At the present, however, there is a paucity of field-guns among the troops in garrison, in addition to which many of the more recently constructed forts lack artillery; while the opinion may be hazarded that the entire position has been so over-fortified as to become a source of eventual weakness in the ultimate disposition of the Russian force.

Of course a fight for the command of the sea must precede any land operations. Japan is within fifteen hours steam of Fusan, already a Japanese garrison-town, and of Ma-san-po, the port to which Russia and Japan make equal claim. The strait separating Japan from Korea is 200 miles broad, while Russia’s nearest base at Port Arthur is 900 miles away on one hand and Vladivostock is 1200 miles away on the other. It follows therefore, that in Korea, and not in Manchuria, the troops of the Japanese army would be landed. Once established in Korea, Japan would be able to dispute the supremacy of the sea on equal terms. In this respect the possession by the Japanese of numerous torpedo craft confers a distinct advantage upon them, since it will be within their power to utilise their services if the Russian fleet were to attempt to check the movement. The absence of any facilities for repairing damages makes it certain that so far as possible the Russian fleet will evade any serious engagement. It would be difficult to improve upon the position of Japan in this respect. At Yokosuka, from which place a large number of cruisers have been launched, there is a very extensive building-yard, and Japan also possesses suitable docks for large ships at Kure and Nagasaki. In all she has at her immediate disposal some half a dozen docks, 400 ft. in length or more, and a very skilful army of working mechanics and workmen in general. Port Arthur must be regarded for practical purposes the naval base of Russia in the Far East in the event of a cold-weather campaign.

Vladivostock is too far removed from the range of probable utility. At this port, however, Russia has constructed one large dry dock, one floating dock 301 ft. long, and a second dry dock has been laid down. Against these two solitary and isolated centres, Japan possesses naval bases, arsenals and docks at the following points on her coast.

The squadrons which Japan and Russia will be able to employ in this war are very formidable, and during the past few months each Power has made strenuous efforts to increase the strength of its fleet.

In January 1903 the aggregate tonnage of the Russian Pacific Squadron stood at some 87,000 tons, the fleet including the battleships Peresviet, Petropavlovsk, Poltava, Sevastopol, and the cruisers Rossia, Gromoboi, and Rurik, with other smaller vessels.

In March the tonnage went up to 93,000 tons, thanks to the arrival of the cruiser Askold from the Baltic.

In May the cruisers Diana, Pallada, Novik, and the battleship Retvizan joined.

In June the cruisers Bogatyr and Boyarin reached the scene.

In July the battleship Probleda arrived.

In November the battleship Tzarevitch and the cruiser Bayan further added to Russia’s strength.

In December the battleship Oslyabya, the armoured cruiser Dimitri Donskoi, the protected cruisers Aurora and Almaz, and eleven torpedo-boat destroyers.

In January 1904 the battleship Imperator Alexander III. leaves the Baltic for the Far East.

Russia has laboured under great disadvantages to secure her position in this region. In consequence of restricted shipbuilding resources and owing to an unfortunate geographical position, Russia has not enjoyed those opportunities of adding to her Pacific fleet which have presented themselves to Japan. In effect, if not in fact, Russia is compelled to maintain four navies. Unhappily, each is isolated from the other, many hundreds of miles separating them. Naval squadrons are concentrated in the Baltic, in the Black Sea, in the Caspian Sea and in the Pacific. The Pacific squadron is of recent establishment and of most modern construction. It dates back to 1898, from which time her policy of naval expansion began. Orders were placed with France, Germany and America for cruisers and battleships, coal was bought at Cardiff, and in a short space the nucleus of a powerful fleet had sprung into existence. At the present time these new ships are deficient in the various ratings, and hundreds of mechanics, gunners and engineers have been withdrawn from the Black Sea Squadron to do service with the Pacific Fleet, moving to the Pacific Ocean from the Black Sea by means of the Trans-Siberian Railway. Just now, and until the acute phase of the crisis has disappeared or war has been declared, the disposition of the Russian Pacific Squadron is as follows.

At Port Arthur, the battleships Petropavlovsk, Poltava, Sevastopol, Peresviet, Retvizan, Probleda, and Tzarevitch; the first-class cruisers Bayan, Askold, Pallada, Diana, and Varyag; the gunboats Bobr, Gremyashtchi, and Koreetz; the transports Amur, Yenissei, and Angara; the torpedo-cruisers Vsadnik, and Gaidamak; and the destroyers Bezshumni, Bezposhadni, Bditelni, Bezstrashni, Boevoi, Vnimatelni, Vnushitelni, Viposlivi, Vlastni, Burni, and Boiki.

At Vladivostock, the first-class cruisers Rossia, Gromoboi, Rurik, and Bogatyr, the gunboat Mandchur, and the transport Lena.

At Chemulpo, the second-class cruiser Boyarin, and the destroyer Grossovoi.

At Ma-san-po, the second-class cruiser Rasboinik.

In Nimrod Bay, the second-class cruiser Djijdjit.

At Newchwang, the gunboats Otvazhni and Sivutch.

At Nagasaki, the gunboat Gilvak.

It will be seen from this list that Russia practically has the whole of her Pacific Squadron in and about the Yellow Sea. In addition to this force there is the squadron now en suite for the Far East, which lately passed through Bizerta. This comprises the battleship Oslyabya, two second-class cruisers, Aurora and Dimitri Donskoi, and eleven torpedo-boat destroyers. The added strength which Russia will receive when these reinforcements, under Admiral Virenius, reach her will give her a numerical superiority over Japan. The greater efficiency, and that higher degree of skill, which is so noticeable aboard the Japanese fleet, reduces this preponderance to a mean level. However, Russia is by no means to be caught napping, as the formation in Port Arthur of a reserve naval brigade tends to show. Meanwhile, however, the subjoined detailed list presents the principal vessels in the Russian Pacific Squadron. The officers commanding are:

• Vice-Admiral Stark,
• Rear-Admiral Prince Ukhtomski,
• Rear-Admiral Baron Shtakelberg,
• Admiral Virenius (to join).

BATTLESHIPS

Reinforcements to join: Oslyabya, 12,000 tons, 4 10-in. guns, 10 6-in. guns; Navarin, 9,000 tons, 4 12-in. guns, 8 6-in. guns; Imperator Alexander III.

CRUISERS

Reinforcements to join: Gremyashtchi, Admiral Nakhimoff; Aurora, Admiral Korniloff; Otrajny, Dmitri Donskoi; Almaz.

The gunboats on this station number nine, the destroyers eighteen, and the transports six. Thirteen destroyers are to join.

This fleet, with reinforcements, compares numerically with the eventual strength of Japan as follows:

A proportion of Japanese cruisers would be needed for coast defence, so that Russia is becoming numerically the stronger for sea work. In addition, Russia also has a powerful auxiliary fleet, consisting of ten steamers of the Black Sea Steam Navigation Company, most of which were built on the Tyne, and average fourteen knots. The Russian Volunteer Fleet Association numbers twelve Tyne and Clyde built ships. They are also at the disposal of the authorities.

Against this fighting array the Japanese are able to place vessels of equal size and displacement; in the actual weight of metal the Japanese are at a disadvantage, but in the thickness of the armoured protection there is little to choose. Against this comparative equality of the opposing fleets there must be borne in mind the great advantage which Japan derives from her ability to use her own fortified ports as naval bases. Indeed, this is of such importance that the knowledge of this fact might induce her to risk her whole strength in a single engagement. Again, in the mercantile marine, which has increased enormously of recent years, Japan will find all she may require for the purposes of transport and auxiliaries to the war fleet. The principal vessels in the Japanese navy are here indicated:

BATTLESHIPS

ARMOURED CRUISERS

In addition to these, early in January 1904 the two cruisers purchased in Italy from the Argentine Government will be ready for sea.

PROTECTED CRUISERS

In connection with the First Division of the Japanese Fleet an interesting fact has transpired which, from reason of its association with this country, will prove of more than ordinary interest. In case of war it appears that with one exception the ships comprising this division are all British built. Designs, armour-plating and armament follow the type and standard of our own Navy, and it is therefore obvious that we cannot fail to be stirred deeply by the results of any collision which may occur. Each nation possesses in Far Eastern waters ships supplied with the latest appliances which science and ingenuity have devised. To the people of this Empire, whose security rests primarily upon the Fleet, our interest in the engagements is naturally the higher, by reason of the similarity between the ships which will be engaged upon one side and those of our own Navy. These vessels, all of which have received their war-paint, and whose place of concentration is Nagasaki, some 585 nautical miles from Port Arthur, are as follows:

(B) battleship; (C) cruiser.

A torpedo flotilla, numbering thirty-five vessels, forms part of this division. The other divisions of the fleet for war comprise the following:

In addition to these the auxiliary fleet numbers some forty steamers, for the most part vessels belonging to the Nippon Yusen Kaisha.

The present constitution of the Japanese Army dates from 1873, and the Military Forces consist of—(1) the permanent or Regular Army, with its Reserves and Recruiting Reserves; (2) the Territorial Army; (3) the National Militia; and (4) the Militia of the various island centres off the coast, &c. Military service is obligatory in the case of every able-bodied male from the age of seventeen to forty years of age. Of this period, three years are passed in the permanent or Regular Army, four years and four months in the Regular Reserves, five years in the Territorial Army, and the remaining liability in the National Militia. The permanent Army, with its Reserves, conducts operations abroad, and the Territorial Army and the Militia are for home defence. These latter are equipped with Peabody and Remington single-loading rifles. The up-to-date strength of the permanent Army, on a war footing, which does not include the Reserves, is as follows:

Total = 684 guns, 6400 officers, 190,390 rank and file, 58,152 horses.

The Reserves comprise 52 battalions of Infantry, 17 squadrons, 26 Engineer and Transport companies, and 19 batteries with 114 guns, yielding a total of 1000 officers, 34,600 rank and file, and 9000 horses. Therefore, on mobilisation, the grand effective strength of the Army available for service beyond the seas would amount to 7400 officers, 224,990 rank and file, 798 guns, and 67,152 horses. Behind this, there is the Territorial Army, comprising 386 Infantry battalions, 99 squadrons, 26 Engineer and Transport companies, and about 70 batteries, or 11,735 officers, 348,100 men, 1116 guns, and 86,460 horses.

The Infantry and Engineers of the Regular Army have been recently re-armed with the Meidji magazine rifle. The following particulars show that the Japanese small arm is a superior weapon to the Russian, which dates from 1891:

The Regular Cavalry have the Meidji carbine. The Reserves are armed with the Murata magazine rifle, model 1894, calibre .312 in., muzzle velocity 2000 feet-seconds, sighted up to 2187 yds., and weight with bayonet, 9 lb. 1 oz. The equipment carried by the Infantry soldier in the field weighs 43½ lbs.

The Regular Field and Mountain Artillery is armed with 2.95 in. quick-firing equipment, with hydraulic compressor, throwing a 10 lb. projectile. This is known as the Arisaka equipment. The Fortress and Siege Artillery have the latest models of Krupp and Schneider-Canet in siege guns, guns of position, and mortars. The Reserve Field Artillery are armed with a 2.95 rifled cannon of bronze on the old Italian model. The Japanese have no Horse Artillery, and the only difference between the field and mountain equipments is that the latter is the shorter and lighter gun, and has not as long a range. The Cavalry is the least efficient army of the service. It carries sword and carbine, but no lance. The horses are badly trained; the men are very indifferent riders.

The strength of the Russian forces in Manchuria embraces 88 battalions, 60 squadrons and 50 batteries, which, together with the garrison forces and fortress armament, numbers 200,000 men and 300 guns. These troops in Manchuria are formed into two army corps of the first line and two of the second. Two new Rifle Brigades have just been added to the existing strength. They are composed as follows:

The Russian is a phenomenal marcher; the actual weight of his equipment is 58 lbs. 2 oz. One tent is carried in section between six men. Each soldier carries in his haversack two and a half days’ biscuits. The ration in daily use for war consists of

In the exigencies of active service it happens that the Russian soldier must forage for himself. Under any circumstances, however, he sustains himself on very little nourishment, and relies in a great measure upon what he can find. The Russian cavalry is armed with sword, rifle and bayonet. The latter is invariably carried “fixed,” even when the weapon itself is slung. A few regiments only carry the lance. The field guns are steel breech-loaders manufactured at the Obukhov works. They are akin to the Krupp pattern; many, however, have the interrupted screw breech piece and the de Bange obturation. At present there are many varieties of artillery with the Russian troops, particularly in their fortified positions, to which places the Russian transported the seizures which they made from the Chinese during the Boxer crisis. These embraced French, German and British examples of artillery.

On land, the immense superiority of the reserve numbers of the Russians reduces the advantages which would accrue to the Japanese if the fighting were confined to the sea. At the same time, however, it should be remembered that the Russian troops are slow movers, and although they may exhibit magnificent endurance, and although they may be relied upon to fight well, the lack of individual initiative upon the part of the Russian officers robs the operations of that dash and address which is embodied in the spirit of the Japanese army. Curiously enough, each side favours the Continental school of infantry and cavalry tactics, the underlying principles in the training of the Japanese revealing a close adherence to Teutonic methods. Neither side will profit, therefore, by any degree of indivisibility to which they may have attained. The winter great-coat of either army is very nearly identical in colour, and for warm weather Japanese and Russians alike favour a white blouse. There has been talk of the Japanese adopting a khaki tint; upon the other hand, the blouse of the Russian soldier is by courtesy equally white or khaki. In the more important direction of land transport, it might appear that the Manchurian railway would be a crowning triumph for the Russian authorities. Unfortunately, this immense length of rail, badly laid and indifferently equipped, will impose a perpetual strain upon the military resources. If the country population could be relied upon to maintain a benevolent neutrality towards telegraph poles and lines, railway sleepers and rails, the stone pillar and balks of the bridges, the possibility of any serious interruption of traffic would be materially lessened. Unhappily for the Russians, the attitude and acts of the native population, who, in a general way, will lose no opportunity to harass their enemy, must impede the effective co-operation of the Russian forces.

Against this instinctive feeling of animosity there may be set the racial sympathy with the Japanese which governs every Chinaman. In Manchuria particularly, the Japanese enjoy a high reputation in the minds of the populace, while there is remembered, above aught else, that prompt redemption of all obligations during the Chino-Japanese War which distinguished the policy of the invaders towards local interests. This policy of benevolence was exhibited for the second time during the Boxer crisis, and, of course, the striking example offered by the Japanese, in comparison with the Russians, was not lost upon the Chinese. These things are recalled to-day in Manchuria, and they may be calculated to offset any reactionary sentiment which may take place in Korea. Between the hospital arrangements of each belligerent there is little to choose. The more efficient system of the Japanese service is equalised by the greater facilities which the possession of railway communication by the Russians will present to the transportation of the wounded. It should be pointed out, however, that the principal medical service—the Russian Red Cross Society—is wholly patriotic, and that it is not, in any degree, a military organisation. It is liable to be withdrawn from the field at any moment after the conclusion of the major operations.

Beyond these few observations it is difficult—if not impossible—to trespass with any certainty, although, as a closing remark, it may perhaps be added that, provided the investment of Port Arthur be satisfactorily accomplished by sea and that Vladivostock were enclosed by ice, the estuaries of the Yalu and Lico Rivers enables an admirable position to be taken up, from which the Russian position throughout Manchuria may be very readily threatened. Speculations as to the development of the campaign upon land are, however, quite absurd until something is known of the results of the naval engagements with which the war must open. Meanwhile the painful familiarity with the costs of war which distinguishes the British taxpayer has directed no little attention to the financial position of either country. An eminent German financier, interested in the public debt of Russia, lately explained to me that a very large proportion of the moneys, which have been raised for the construction of the Russian inter-railway communications in addition to the Trans-Siberian and Manchurian Railways, has been set aside from time to time to supplement her war chest. These sums, added to those collected by Count Mouravieff with the assent of M. de Witte, and including the large balances which have accrued to the State by departmental economies during the past year, represent approximately a capital of one hundred millions sterling. Against this accumulation it is said that the financial position of Japan is most favourable. There is, I believe, a specie reserve in the Central Bank which amounts to 113,000,000 yen, plus some 40,000,000 yen in London. Moreover, the bank’s note-issuing margin is 35,000,000 yen, which will be larger after the New Year. The Treasury has three capital funds, amounting together to 50,000,000 yen, besides some millions in London remaining from the bond sale of 1902. Finally, there are large sums lying idle in all the banks throughout the country, while an Ordinance has been issued which provides the Government with unlimited credit.

The more recent action of the Russians in Manchuria tends, of course, to support the view that war may be imminent. Nevertheless, bluff is a component part of Russian diplomacy, and there is ground for believing that the intentions of Russia in the Far East are by no means so warlike as the preparations now proceeding and the acts of the Russian administrative officials in Manchuria itself would imply. Russian diplomacy always covers the development of its plans by preparing to demonstrate in a contrary direction; and at the present time her occupation of Korean territory is little else than the screen, behind which she proposes to secure her hold upon Manchuria. Nothing short of war will cause her to retire from her position in Manchuria; but while Korean territory is of little value to the Russian protectorate, whatever the compromise which may be effected between Japan and Russia, she may be expected to make a determined effort to dominate the lower waters of the Yalu River. In fact, curious as it may seem, the estuary of the Yalu River is the very locale of the dispute between the two Powers, since, if Russia were ever permitted to dominate the Yalu River, she would gain at once that special position upon the frontiers of Korea which it is the desire of Japan to frustrate. In this Japan can rely only upon the shortshifts of diplomacy; and although the Russian occupation of Yong-an-po may be circumvented, the development of An-tung upon the opposite shore of the river cannot be prevented. It seems, therefore, as inevitable that some commanding position upon the Yalu River must ultimately fall to her lot. An-tung lies within Manchurian territory; the Yalu River is the border stream between Manchuria and Korea, and at Yong-an-po the nucleus of an important Russian settlement has been established. The future contains no promise of the immediate settlement of the present difficulty. At best the outlook is confused; while at the same time there is presented in a manner singularly clear and comprehensible the fact that Russia neither will evacuate New-chang, be driven out of Manchuria, nor abandon her position on the Yalu River. The position of Russia at New-chang has been indicated by past events, her occupation of Manchuria is an old story, and she is now engaged in the rapid development of her interests at An-tung. The position of this port endows it with unusual advantages, and the commercial potentialities of the place are very great. It lies about fifteen miles above Yong-an-po, on the opposite bank. At present the export trade is confined to millet and silk cocoons, the over-production of the latter commodity requiring close technical supervision. Eight miles below An-tung, situated on the right bank of the river, is the likin station San-tao-lan-tao, where junks and rafts must report and pay the stipulated excise before they proceed onward. The river then bears away to the north-east, and after another stretch of seven miles there comes An-tung, upon the same bank, at a point where the stream divides, the eastern branch being the Yalu River. An-tung is of quite recent construction, and a few years ago millet fields occupied its site. Under the care of native merchants large, solid-looking houses have been built, broad streets have been opened out, and an air of unusual prosperity distinguishes the place. The anchorage is thronged with junks, while timber is stacked in vast quantities below the limits of the town. Sea-going steamers of the coaster type can here discharge and load their cargoes, thus obviating transhipment at Ta-tung-kao.

Trade between Ta-tung-kao, which is situated at the mouth of the Yalu, and Chi-fu, is at present carried on by small steamers of the Mosquito flotilla and one British ship, the Hwang-ho, of the China Navigation Company (Messrs. Butterfield and Swire), while the vast volume of the exports and imports finds its way hither and thither in Chinese junks. The run from Chi-fu port is one of a hundred and eighty-five miles, and the time usually occupied in the trip north-eastward is twenty-two hours, the steamers anchoring in the fairway channel at a distance of four miles from Ta-tung-kao. Ta-tung-kao is a busy town, inasmuch as it is the place of transhipment for imports and exports, most of which go to or come from An-tung. The fact of steamers being unable to approach Ta-tung-kao makes An-tung the real business centre of the Yalu River. In respect of An-tung, two hundred Russian cavalry have been stationed there for over two and a half years. The cantonment is situated on a small hill, marking the northern limit of the town, which has no wall. As usual, through the Yalu Valley these soldiers bear an evil reputation among the natives, from whom they commandeer at pleasure. Striking away from An-tung is the Pekin “Great Road,” which runs to Liao-yang. Above An-tung the river divides and shoals exist, the water being so shallow that none but native craft can ply. Wi-ju is situated about ten miles to the eastward, and at a point west of Mao-kewi-shan, four miles below An-tung, there is the terminus of the branch of the Manchurian railway, which is to strike the river. The construction of this work will begin in the spring of 1904. The first eighty miles offer little obstruction, and it is intended that the work shall be pushed forward until its junction with the main line of the system is accomplished. Russia, therefore, cannot well afford to ignore the consequences of her policy in the Far East, nor, at the same time, can she be expected to sacrifice, at the request of Japan, those great interests which she has been at such pains to foster. The position is, indeed, a striking example of the manner in which an imperious policy will create the taste, if not the necessity, for Imperialism.

The position of Korea in regard to the disputed questions is a hopeless one. Unfortunately, the government of Korea is powerless to prevent either the advance of Russia or the steady spread of Japanese influence. She possesses neither army nor navy which can be put to any practical use, and she is in that position in which a country is placed when unable to raise its voice upon its own behalf. The army numbers a few thousand men, who, in the last few years, have been trained to the use of European weapons. They are armed with the Gras, (obsolete pattern) Murata, Martini, and a variety of muzzle-loading smooth-bore rifles. Their shooting powers are most indifferent, and they lack besides the qualities of courage and discipline. There is no artillery, and the cavalry arm is confined to a few hundred men with no knowledge of horse-mastership, and with no idea of their weapons or their duties. At a moment of emergency the entire force of mounted and dismounted men would become utterly demoralised. There are numerous general officers, while, I believe, the navy is composed of twenty-three admirals and one iron-built coal lighter, until quite lately the property of a Japanese steamship company. Korea is the helpless, hapless sport of Japanese caprice or Russian lust; and it has been my aim to present an impartial study of the condition of the country in the pages of this volume. Since so many and so much abler pens have dealt with the position of Manchuria elsewhere, I have confined myself solely to a review of Korea. For this I trust that I may not be taken to task, while in order to satisfy those who think that some reference to the questions of Manchuria should have been incorporated in my book I have ventured to impart to my preface the appearance of a chapter which deals solely with this problem. And now, at the end of my work, a last, but none the less pleasant, duty awaits me. In addition to my own notes upon Korea I have gathered information from many people—writers, travellers, and students—all interested in the contemporary history of the Hermit Kingdom. These I now hasten to thank, and by naming them I would mark my grateful appreciation of the kindness which they have extended to me. To Mr. McLeavy Brown, of the Korean Maritime Customs; Mr. Gubbins, formerly of the British Legation, Seoul; to my distinguished and learned friend, Professor Homer B. Hulbert, whose published notes upon Korea have been of exceptional value, I make hearty acknowledgments; to Mrs. Bishop, Colonel Younghusband, the Rev. Mr. Griffis, Major Gould-Adams, authors of interesting and important contributions to any study of Korea, I express the sense of my obligation; to the Rev. C. Collyer, who was good enough to make my spelling of Korean names identical with the standard of Dr. Gale; to Mr. Bolton, of Messrs. Stanford, the map makers, of Long Acre, who laboured so patiently with the many shortcomings of my geographical data, I am, indeed, indebted. To Sir Douglas Straight, editor of the Pall Mall Gazette, whose paper it was my delight to represent throughout my long residence in the Far East; to Mr. Nicol Dunn, editor of the Morning Post; to Mr. S. J. Pryor, of the Daily Express, I have to record my acknowledgment of the courteous permission of these distinguished people to reproduce such portions of my work as have appeared in the columns of their respective organs from time to time. And last of all to my readers I offer this book in the hope that an immediate apology for its production may be permitted to atone for its numerous shortcomings.

December 25, 1903.

CHAPTER I

Off the coast—Lack of survey intelligence—Island flora—Forgotten voyagers—Superstitions and beliefs—Outline of history

DEVIL POST OUTSIDE SEOUL

Despite the survey work which has been accomplished in the past by the Japanese upon the coasts of Korea, little knowledge of the numerous islands and archipelagoes, shoals and reefs which make its shores the terror of all mariners, exists at present. Until the voyage of the Alceste and Lyra in 1816, the locality of these detached groups of rocky islets was not marked on any of the Japanese or Chinese maps of the period. In the map of the Empire prepared by the Jesuits at Pekin in the seventeenth century, the space now occupied by the Korean Archipelago was covered with the drawing of an elephant—the conventional sign of ignorance with the cartographers of that time. In the older native maps, the mainland embraced groups of islands, the most imperfect knowledge of the physical configuration of their own shores prevailing among the Koreans. In quite recent days, however, the Korean Government has recognised this fact, and in the early months of 1903 the Japanese Government was requested to draw up a complete survey of the Hermit Kingdom. This work is now in process of execution, the plan of the coastline already having been completed.

The coast of Korea is remarkable for the number of spacious harbours which distinguish it. Upon the West and South, indications of the volcanic period, through which the country has in part passed, are shown by the frequency with which these island groups occur. From a single peak upon one of the small islands off the south-west coast, as many as one hundred and thirty-five islets may be counted, stretching to the North and to the South, the resort of the sea-fowl; desolate and almost uninhabited. Many of the more important islands have been cultivated, and give refuge and a lonely home to small communities of fishing-folk.

Navigation is peculiarly dangerous in these waters. Many of the islands are submerged by the spring-tides, and the direction of the channels, scoured by the rush of the tide, becomes quite indefinite. In the absence of charts and maps, these island-fringed shores have been the scene of many shipwrecks; Dutch, American, French, and British shipping meeting in one grim and silent procession a common end: captivity on shore or death in the sea. Some of these unfortunate mariners survived their experiences, leaving, after the fashion of Hendrik Hamel, the supercargo of the Dutch frigate Sparwehr, which went ashore off Quelpart in 1653, records and histories of their adventures to an incredulous posterity. Most of the islands lying off the coast are well wooded. As they are very beautiful to look upon and very dangerous to approach, they are regarded with mingled sentiments of reverence and superstition, differing little, in their expression, from the fear in which the ancients held the terrors of Scylla and Charybdis. Their isolated position, moreover, makes them the centre of much contraband trade between the Chinese and Koreans; their defenceless state renders them an easy prey to any pirates who care to ravage them.

The islands off the south-west coast are the sanctuaries of many animals. Seals sport and play unharmed among the rocks; the woody peaks are rich in game: teal, crane, curlew, quail, and innumerable small birds make them their breeding-grounds. The shores are happy hunting-grounds for naturalists, and a variety of marine food is found throughout the archipelago. A number of well-marked species of sponge may be gathered, and the coral beds display many violent tints and delicate shades, forming in their beautiful colourings a sea garden of matchless splendour. The flora of these islands is a no less brilliant feature of the summer landscape. Tiger-lilies, showy and gigantic, daisies, asters, many varieties of cactus, grow side by side with curious ferns, palms and creepers, almost tropical in their character and profusion, yet surviving the cooler temperature of autumn and winter, to greet each coming spring with freshened beauty. The air vibrates with the singing and buzzing of insects, the limpid day is bright with gaudy butterflies. Snow-white herons stand in the shallows. Cormorants, diving birds and ducks throng the reefs to rise in clouds with many angry splutterings when their haunts are invaded. In the deeper waters, there are myriads of fish; in passing from group to group along the coast shoals of whales are to be seen, blowing columns of spray aloft, of sleeping idly upon the surface.

The coast of Korea is well sprinkled with the names of foreign navigators, who, in previous centuries, essayed to visit the Land of the Morning Radiance. With rare exceptions, these visitors were turned back. Some were captured and tortured; many were ordered off at once, few were ever entertained. None were invited to make any stay in the new land, or permitted to inspect its wonders and curiosities. Beyond the Japanese, those who succeeded in sapping the wall of isolation which was so carefully built around the country and so rigorously maintained, were generally escorted inland as prisoners, the unconscious victims of some successful stratagem. In a manner, the fashion of their treatment is revealed in the curious names with which these pioneers of navigation have labelled the capes and promontories, the islands and shoals, which they were lucky enough to locate and whose dangers they were fortunate enough to avoid. Many of these names have ceased to be recognised. The lapse of time has caused them to be obliterated by European hydrographers from the maps and charts of the country and seas, in which their originators had risked so much. In many parts of the coast, however, particularly upon the west, along the shores of the Chyung-chyöng Province, these original names have been preserved. They form, to-day, a tribute to the earnestness and intrepidity of these early explorers. This mead of recognition is only just, and is not to be denied to their undoubted gallantry and enterprise.

It is not impossible to believe that an unusually fickle fate followed in their footsteps, prompting them to leave thus for the guidance of future generations, some hint of their own miscalculations. If one may judge, from the brief narratives which these discoverers have left behind them, the result of their work upon these inhospitable shores surpassed anything that they had foreseen. The visit of these hardy spirits aroused the curiosity of the Koreans, giving to them their first knowledge of that outer world which they had spurned for centuries. Despite the golden opportunities now presented to them, however, they continued to neglect it. The memory of the black ships and the red beards (Dutchmen)—as they dubbed the strange craft and stranger devils, that had to appear only off their shores to be shipwrecked—dwelt long in their minds. Although they treated these strangers with comparative generosity, they were careful to preserve inviolate the secrets and sanctity of their land. They rejected with contumacy the friendly overtures of strangers who came in monster ships, and who, forsooth, left behind nothing but a name. It is scarcely astonishing, therefore, that there are many points upon the coast of Korea which bear somewhat uncomplimentary names. Deception Bay, Insult Island, and False River savour of certain physical discomforts, which, too great to be borne in silence, left an indelible impression upon the associations of the spot.

If the Dutch sailors of 1627 were among the earliest to reach the forbidding shores of this kingdom, the activities of British voyagers were most prominent in the succeeding century. The work of Captain W. R. Broughton, of the British sloop-o’-war, of sixteen guns, Providence, is described to this day by the bays and harbours into which he penetrated, and the capes and straits which this gallant man christened, to the credit of the distant island kingdom from which he hailed. Broughton in 1797, Maxwell of the Alceste, with Basil Hall, commander of the British sloop-o’-war, the Lyra, in 1816, deserve the passing fame which is secured to them by the waters and capes which have been named after them. Their names figure as landmarks upon the west, the east, and the south coasts. While Maxwell and Hall preferred to devote their attention to the discovery and examination of the Korean Archipelago—of which, although Broughton does not mention it, it seems impossible that the discoverer of Broughton Strait can have been ignorant—Broughton roughly charted and surveyed the west coasts, coming to a temporary halt in Broughton Bay, some six hundred miles to the north. Hall left his name in Basil’s Bay, where Gutzlaff landed in 1832 to plant potatoes and to leave seeds and books. A generation later, in 1866, the archipelago to the north-west was named after the Prince Imperial, who was to meet his death in Zululand in 1878. In 1867, Prince Jerome’s Gulf, an inlet upon the mainland of the Chyung-chyöng Province, was to be the scene of Oppert’s famous attempt to remove large deposits of buried treasure and venerated relics from an Imperial tomb. These names upon the east and west coasts suggest nothing of the romance which actually surrounds them. At most they conjure up the shadowy silhouettes of the redoubtable personages, to whom they once belonged, and with whose memory many journeys of discovery in these seas are inseparably linked.

Englishmen were not the sole navigators who were attracted by the unknown character of the land, and the surpassing dangers of the waters, around the Island of Quelpart, where the Sea of Japan mingles in tempestuous chaos with the Yellow Sea. Russian and French navigators also worked their way through the dangerous shoals and quicksands, along the tortuous and muddy rivers, into the harbours and through the narrow straits which hold back these islands from the mainland. The shores teem with the distinguished names of men of science and sons of the high seas. Following the curl and twist of its configuration a host of buried names are revealed, the last evidence of men who are dead and forgotten. It is infinitely pathetic that even this one last resting-place should be denied to their reputations. Lazareli, who shares Broughton’s Bay; Unkoffsky, who foundered in the waters of the bay which is described by his name; the ill-fated La Pérouse, who, in June 1787, discovered in the Sea of Japan an island which now bears the name of the astronomer—Dagelet. Durock, Pellisier, Schwartz, and the rest—what echo do we find of them, their fates, and subsequent careers? Should not their names at least bear witness to their pains and labours, to the difficulties which they faced, to the small joy of something attempted, something done, which was their sole consolation for many hours of cheerless and empty vigil?

Korea is a land of exceptional beauty. The customs, the literature, and the geographical nomenclature of the kingdom prove that the superb and inspiring scenery of the peninsula is quite appreciated by the people. In the same manner that the coast-line of Korea bears evidence of the adventurous spirit of many western mariners, the names given to the mountains and rivers of the country by the inhabitants themselves reflect the simplicity, the crudity, and the superstition of their ideas and beliefs. All mountains are personified in Korea. In the popular belief, they are usually associated with dragons. Every village offers sacrifices to the mountain-spirits. Shrines are erected by the wayside and in the mountain passes that travellers may tender their offerings to the spirits and secure their goodwill. The Koreans believe that the mountains in some way exert a benign and protecting influence. The capital of Korea possesses its guardian-mountain. Every town relies upon some preserving power to maintain its existence. Graves, too, must have their custodian peaks, or the family will not prosper, and the impression prevails that people are born in accordance with the conformation of the hills upon which the tombs of their ancestors are situated. Rough and rugged contours make for warriors and militant males. Smooth surfaces and gentle descents beget scholars; peaks of singular charm and position are associated with beautiful women. Like the mountain-ranges, lakes and pools, rivers and streams exercise geomantic powers, and they are the abodes of presiding shades, benevolent or pernicious. In lakes, there are dragons and lesser monsters. In mountain pools, however, no wraith exists unless some one is drowned in the waters of the pool. When this fatality occurs, the figure of the dead haunts the pool until released by the ghost of the next person who meets with this misfortune. The serpent is almost synonymous with the dragon. Certain fish become in time fish-dragons; snakes become elevated to the dignity and imbued with the ferocity of dragons when they have spent one thousand years in the captivity of the mountains, and one thousand years in the water. All these apparitions may be propitiated with sacrifices and prayers.

GUARDIAN OF A GRAVE

In the province of Kang-won, through which the ranges of the Diamond Mountains pass, there are several peaks symbolical of this belief in the existence of supernatural monsters. One dizzy height is named the Yellow Dragon, a second the Flying Phœnix, and a third, the Hidden Dragon, has reference to a demon who has not yet risen from the earth upon his ascent to the clouds. The names which the Koreans give to their rivers, lakes and villages, as also to their mountains, bear out their wish to see the natural beauties of their land associated with its more distinctive features. This idiosyncrasy, however, would seem to be exceptionally pronounced in the case of mountains. The Mountain fronting the Moon, the Mountain facing the Sun, the Tranquil Sea, the Valley of Cool Shade, and the Hill of White Clouds emphasise this desire. Again, in Ham-kyöng, the most northern province in the Empire, the more conspicuous peaks receive such designations as the Peak of Continuous Virtue, the Peak of the Thousand Buddhas, the Lasting Peace, the Sword Mountain, Heaven Reaching Peak, the Cloud Toucher. It is evident, therefore, that appreciation of nature, no less than reverence for the supernatural, underlies the system by which they evolve names for the landmarks of their country. The peculiarities of their land afford great scope for such a practice, and it is to be admitted that they give ample vent to this peculiar trait in their imagination.

Korea is now an independent Empire. From very early times until 1895 the King of Korea was a vassal of China, but the complete renunciation of the authority of the Emperor of China was proclaimed in January 1895, by an Imperial decree. This was the fruit of the Chino-Japanese war, and it was ratified by China under the seal of the treaty of peace signed at Shimonosaki in May of the same year. The monarchy is hereditary, and the present dynasty has occupied the throne of Korea in continuous entail since 1392. Inhabited by a people whose traditions and history extend over a period of five thousand years, and subjected to kaleidoscopic changes whereby smaller tribes were absorbed by larger, and weaker governments overthrown by stronger, Korea has gradually evolved one kingdom, which, embracing all units under her own protection, has presented to the world through centuries a more or less composite and stable authority. There can be no doubt that the whilom vassal of China, in respect of which China and Japan made war, has taken much greater strides upon the path of progress than her ancient neighbour and liege lord. There is no question of the superiority of the conditions under which the Koreans in Seoul live and those prevailing in Pekin, when each city is regarded as the capital of its country—the representative centre in which all that is best and brightest congregates.

INDEPENDENCE ARCH

It was in 1876 that Korea made her first modern treaty. It was not until three years later that any exchange of envoys took place between the contracting party and herself. Despite the treaty, Korea showed no disposition to profit by the existence of her new relations, until the opening of Chemulpo to trade in the latter part of 1883 revealed to her the commercial advantages which she was now in a position to enjoy. All this time China had been in intercourse with foreigners. Legations had been established in her capital; consuls were in charge of the open ports; commercial treaties had been arranged. She was already old and uncanny in the wisdom which came to her by this dealing with the people of Western nations. But, in a spirit of perversity without parallel in constitutional history, China retired within herself to such a degree that Japan, within one generation, has advanced to the position of a Great Power, and even Korea has become, within twenty years, the superior of her former liege. In less than a decade Korea has promoted works of an industrial or humanitarian character which China, at the present time, is bitterly and fatally opposing. It is true that the liberal tendencies of Korea have been stimulated by association with the Japanese. Without the guiding hand of that energetic country the position which she would enjoy to-day is infinitely problematical. The contact has been wholly beneficial. Its continuation forms the strongest guarantee of the eventual development of the resources of the kingdom.

PAGODA AT SEOUL

CHAPTER II

Physical peculiarities—Direction of advancement—Indications of reform and prosperity—Chemulpo—Population—Settlement—Trade

A MOMENT OF LEISURE

Korea is an extremely mountainous country. Islands, harbours, and mountains are its most pronounced natural features, and nearly the whole of the coast consists of the slopes of the various mountain ranges which come down to the sea. There are many patches upon the west, where the approaches are less precipitous and rugged than upon the east. The coast seems to follow the contour of the mountains. It presents, particularly from the east, that lofty and inaccessible barrier of forest-clad country, which has won the admiration of all navigators and struck terror into the hearts of those who have met with disaster upon its barren and rocky shores. From Paik-tu-san to Wi-ju there is one mighty and natural panorama of mountains with snow-clad, cloud-wrapped summits, and beautiful valleys with rich crops and quaintly placed, low-thatched hovels, through which rivers course like angry silver. Everywhere in the north the mountains predominate; monstrous in shape and size. They are rich in minerals; they have become sepulchres for the dead and mines for the living—for in their keeping lies the wealth of the ages, coal and iron and gold; upon their summits, resting beneath the sky or within some nook hewn from their rugged slopes, are the graves of the dead. Mining and agriculture are almost the sole natural resources of the kingdom. There are great possibilities, however, in the awakening energies and instincts of the people, which may lead them to create markets of their own by growing more than suffices for their immediate requirements. As yet, notwithstanding the improvements which have been inaugurated, and the industrial schemes, which the government has introduced, the reform movement lacks cohesion. Indeed the nation is without ambition. But the prospect is hopeful. Already something has been accomplished in the right direction.

At present, however, Korea is in a state of transition. Everything is undefined and indetermined; the past is in ruins, the present and the future are in the rough. Reforms are scarce a decade old, and, while many abuses have been redressed, the reform movement suffers for lack of support, comprehension, and toleration. The aspirations of the few are extending but slowly to the nation. Progress is gradual and the interval is tedious. The commercial phase of the movement is full of vitality, and the factories which have been established show the evolution of enterprise from aspiration. Foreigners are introducing education, while the present commercial activities are attributable to their suggestion and assistance. The small response, which these efforts elicit, make the labour of keeping the nation in the right direction very difficult. The people can scarcely relapse into the conservatism of ancient days, but they may collapse altogether, owing to the unfortunate circumstances which are now making Korea an object of ironical and interested observation among the Western Powers. She may be absorbed, annexed, or divided; in endeavouring to remain independent, she may wreck herself in the general anarchy that may overtake her. She has given much promise. She has constituted a Customs service, joined in the Postal Union and opened her ports. She has admitted railways and telegraphs, and shown kindness, consideration and hospitality to every condition of foreigner within her gates. Her confidence has been that of a child and her faults are those of the nursery. She is so old and yet so infinitely young; and, by a curious fatality, she is now face to face with a situation which again and again has occurred in her past history.

The introduction of Western inventions to Korea has gradually eliminated from contemporary Korean life many customs which, associated with the people and their traditions from time immemorial, imparted much of the repose and picturesqueness which have so far distinguished the little kingdom. Korea, in the twentieth century, bears ample evidence of the forward movement which is stimulating its people. Once the least progressive of the countries of the Far East, she now affords an exception almost as noticeable as that shown by the prompt assimilation of Western ideas and methods by Japan. Chemulpo, however, the centre in which an important foreign settlement and open port have sprung up, does not suggest in itself the completeness of the transformation which in a few years has taken place in the capital. It is twenty years since Chemulpo was opened to foreign trade, and to-day it boasts a magnificent bund, wide streets, imposing shops, and a train service which connects it with the capital. Its sky is threaded with a maze of telephone and telegraph wire, there are several hotels conducted upon Western principles, and there is, also, an international club.

At the threshold of the new century, the port presents an interesting study. With the adjoining Ha-do, a hamlet of military pretensions, it has grown in the twenty years of its existence from a cluster of fishermen’s huts behind a hill along the river at Man-sak-dong into a prosperous cosmopolitan centre of twenty thousand people. Its growth, since the first treaty was negotiated with the West upon May 22, 1882, by the American Admiral Shufeldt, has been extraordinary. Its earlier years gave no promise of its rapid and significant advance. Trade has flourished, and a boom in the trade of the port has sent up the value of local properties. There is now danger of a decline in this state of affluence which may, in view of the chaos and uncertainty of the future of the kingdom, retard the settlement and disastrously affect its present prosperity. From small and uncertain beginnings four well-built, well-lighted settlements have sprung up, expanding into a general foreign, a Japanese, a Chinese, and a Korean quarter. The Japanese section is the best located and the most promising. The interests of this particular nation are also the most prominent in the export and import trade of the port, a position which is emphasised still further by the important nature of its vested interests, among which the railroad between Seoul, the capital, and Chemulpo, with the trunk extension to Fusan, is paramount. The Japanese population increased by nearly five hundred during 1901. It then numbered some four thousand six hundred, of whom a few hundred were soldiers constituting a temporary garrison for the settlement. However, since the modification by the Japanese Government of the emigration laws with reference to China and Korea, under which, in the first weeks of 1902, the necessity for travelling passports was abolished in the case of these two countries, there has been a great increase in the number of Japanese residents at the treaty ports. The settlement at Chemulpo now embraces one thousand two hundred and eighty-two houses, and possesses a population of five thousand nine hundred and seventy-three adults. The census of the Chinese settlement fluctuates with the season; considerable numbers of farmers cross from Shan-tung to Korea during the summer, returning to their native land in winter. In the period of exodus from China, the Chinese population exceeds twelve hundred. The complete strength of the general foreign settlement is eighty-six, of which some twenty-nine are British. The one British firm in Korea is established in Chemulpo.

AT THE WELLS

There are many nationalities in Chemulpo, and the small community, excluding the Japanese and Chinese, is made up as follows: British, twenty-nine and one firm, the remaining twenty-eight being attached to the Vice-Consulate, the Customs, and a missionary society; American, eight and two firms; French, six and one firm; German, sixteen and one firm; Italian, seven and one firm; Russian, four and two firms; Greek, two and one firm; Portuguese seven, Hungarian five, and Dutch two, the last three possessing no firms in the port.

If British interests are not materially represented in Chemulpo, other nationalities are less backward. By means of the Trans-Siberian Railway, the journey from London to Chemulpo can now be accomplished within twenty-one days. When the Seoul-Fusan Railway is finished, communication between the East and the West will be still further facilitated. It is intended that less than two days shall suffice for the connection between Chemulpo and Tokio. Meanwhile the service of the Chinese Eastern Railway Company’s steamers between Port Arthur, Dalny and Chemulpo has been accelerated. In addition, also, imposing new offices have been erected at the port. It is much to be regretted that there is no regular service of British steamers to the ports of Korea. In singular contrast to the apathy of British steamship companies is the action of the Hamburg-America Company, which has now arranged for the periodic visits of its steamers to Chemulpo. From a commercial standpoint the port has become an important distributing centre. Foreign trade with the capital and its environs passes through it, and the administrative officers of the more important gold-mining concessions, of which there are now four, American, Japanese, French, and British, have settled there. A cigarette factory, supported by the Government, is now in operation in the port. During 1901 ninety-three men-of-war entered Chemulpo, of which thirty-five were Japanese, twenty-one English, fifteen Russian, eleven French, five Austrian, four German, one Italian, and one American. Of steamers and sailing-vessels there were 1036, of which 567 were Japanese with 304 steamers, 369 Korean junks and steamers, twenty-one Russian steamers, eight American sailing-ships and one American steamer, four English steamers, three German steamers, sixty-two Chinese junks, and one Norwegian steamer—forty-seven more men-of-war and seventy more merchant vessels than in 1900. The shipping which entered and cleared at the port during 1900 was 370,416 tons, realising a small increase upon previous years; of these, 500 steamers with 287,082 tonnage were Japanese, 261 steamers with 45,516 tons were Korean, forty-one steamers of 27,999 tons Russian, two steamers of 4416 tons British, four steamers of 2918 tons German. The complete return of all shipping entered at the open ports of Korea during the year 1902—the latest under review—is added as a separate table at the end of this book.

In Chemulpo, as in all the ports of the kingdom which are open to foreign trade, there is a branch of the Imperial Korean Maritime Customs, an offshoot of the excellent service which exists in China under the administration of Sir Robert Hart. The working of the Korean Customs, for which Mr. McLeavy Brown is primarily responsible, is singularly successful, and redounds greatly to the credit of the comptrolling power. In an epoch characterised by the extraordinary ineptitude, indifference, and weakness of our public men, it is much to be deplored that the services of this distinguished Englishman are not more directly dedicated to the needs of his country. The careers of these two admirable officials fill me with mingled regret for the remoteness of their sphere of action, and high appreciation of their unremitting zeal—feelings few public servants may more fitly inspire than these two isolated, hardworking chiefs of a sister service, whose work, carried on in an atmosphere of treachery and deceit, too often meets with the blackest ingratitude.

The advance which the trade of Korea has made is proof sufficient of its innate possibilities under honest administration. If the revenues of the Customs are not diverted in the meantime to less important objects, there is every hope to believe that facilities will be given to its development. The Emperor has lately sanctioned the grant of one million yen from the Customs revenue for the provision of aids to navigation. Thirty-one lighthouses are to be built; the two earliest being placed upon Roze and Round Islands off the entrance to the Han river, upon which Chemulpo lies. When this work is accomplished, the increase of shipping in the harbour is sure to create some sympathetic development in the resources of the country.

CHEMULPO

The net value for 1901 of the combined export and import direct foreign trade throughout the kingdom, exclusive of gold export, was more than twenty-three million (23,158,419) yen, the value of the gold export being a little in excess of four million (4,993,351) yen. The exchange rate of the Japanese yen is roughly two shillings and a half-penny, which gives the combined values of the total foreign trade as 2,873,827 pounds sterling. The trade of Chemulpo during this time was 11,131,060 yen, being an increase of nearly one million yen upon the trade returns of the last three years. The exports were gold, rice, beans, timber and hides; the imports comprised American and Japanese goods for the most part, and a small and decreasing trade with England. The total foreign imports reached a value of 5,573,398 yen, and the total exports were 4,311,401 yen. The returns for the year following, 1902, were, in brief: exports, £269,747; imports, £814,470. Foreign interests in the total trade passing through Chemulpo, in comparison with those since 1891, show a great and steady advance. The total revenue for 1891 was a little less than 300,000 yen, and in the year 1900 this sum had advanced to more than 550,000 yen, the increase in the general prosperity during these years correspondingly affecting the total revenue of the kingdom.

Compared with 1901 there was a falling-off in the total trade of the country for the year 1902. In 1902 the entire foreign trade amounted to £2,745,346 sterling, which was composed as follows:

The balance of trade was against Korea, therefore, to the extent of only £16,356 sterling, whereas the average excess of imports over exports for the past five years was £107,309. Only in 1900 were the exports greater than the imports. The average of trade for the past five years was £2,370,075 sterling, a return which in reality credits the year 1902 with £378,271 more than the average. As a matter of fact, the month of December 1902 showed a larger volume of trade and more duty collected at Chemulpo than ever before. Specifically, in comparison with the previous year, the imports of 1902 were less in the amount of £117,914, while exports had declined £7567. Large stocks were carried over from 1901, hence some depreciation in the volume of the trade was inevitable. However, for the better comprehension of the economic relations of Korea with the trade of foreign countries, I have collected the returns of the years, with which I have dealt here, in one simple table, to which is added a quinquennial average, covering a period which begins with the year 1898.

PAVILION ON THE WALL OF THE CAPITAL

CHAPTER III

Move to the capital—A city of peace—Results of foreign influence—In the beginning—Education—Shops—Costume—Origin—Posts and telegraphs—Methods of cleanliness

HEN-SELLER

The situation in which Seoul lies is enchanting. High hills and mountains rise close to the city, their sides rough, rugged and bleak, save where black patches of bushes and trees struggle for existence. The hollows within this rampart of hills and beyond the walls, are fresh and verdant. Small rice-fields, with clusters of thatched hovels in their midst, stretch between the capital and the port at Chemulpo. The atmosphere is clear; the air is sweet; the city is neat and orderly. It is possible, moreover, to live with great comfort in the three-storied brick structure, which, from a pretty collection of Korean buildings, nestling beneath the city wall, has been converted into the Station Hotel.

There is but one wall round Seoul. It is neither so high nor so massive as the wall of Pekin; yet the situation of the city gains so much in beauty from the enclosing mountains, that it seems to be much the more picturesque. If the capital of Korea is more charmingly situated than the capital of China, the wall of Seoul is reminiscent of the walls of the Nankow Pass in the superb disdain with which it clings to the edges of the mountains, climbing the most outlandish places in the course of its almost purposeless meanderings. It extends beyond the lofty crests of Peuk-an and across the splendid and isolated peak of Nam-san, enclosing a forest in one direction, a vacant and soulless plain in another, dropping here into a ravine, to emerge again a few hundred feet higher on the mountain slopes. The wall is in good preservation. In places it is a rampart of mud faced with masonry; more generally it is a solid structure of stone, fourteen miles in circumference, twenty-rive to forty feet in height, battlemented along its entire length and pierced by eight arches of stone. The arches serve as gateways; they are crowned with high tiled towers, the gables of which curve in the fashion of China.

Within the radius of these stone walls, the city spreads itself across a plain, or high on the mountain side, within the snug shelter of some hollow, enjoys a pleasant, cool and comfortable seclusion. Within its metropolitan area there are changes of scenery which would delight the most weary sightseer. Beyond these limits, the appearance and character of the country is refreshing, and is without that monotonous dead-level stretch of plain, which, reaching to the walls of Pekin, detracts so greatly from the position of that capital. Within this broader vista there are hills and wooded valleys. Villages rest beneath the grey, cool shadows of the bush. Upon the hills lie many stately tombs, fringes of trees shielding them from the rush of the winds. There are pretty walks or rides in every quarter, and there is no fear of molestation. Everywhere it is peaceful; foreigners pass unnoticed by the peasants, who, lazily scratching the surface of their fields, or ploughing in the water of their rice plots with stately bulls, occupy their time with gentle industry. It is more by reason of a bountiful nature that has endowed their land with fertility, than by careful management or expenditure of energy that it serves their purpose.

A few years ago it was thought that the glory of the ancient city had departed. Indeed, the extreme state of neglect into which the capital had fallen gave some justification for this opinion. Now, however, the prospect is suggestive of prosperity. The old order is giving way to the new. So quickly has the population learned to appreciate the results of foreign intercourse that, in a few more years, it will be difficult to find in Seoul any remaining link with the capital of yore. The changes have been somewhat radical. The introduction of telegraphy has made it unnecessary to signal nightly the safety of the kingdom by beacons from the crests of the mountains. The gates are no longer closed at night; no more does the evening bell clang sonorously throughout the city at sunset, and the runners before the chairs of the officials have for some time ceased to announce in strident voices the passing of their masters. Improvements, which have been wrought also in the conditions of the city—in its streets and houses, in its sanitary measures and in its methods of communication—have replaced these ancient customs. An excellent and rapid train runs from Chemulpo; electric trams afford quick transit within and beyond the capital; even electric lights illuminate by night some parts of the chief city of the Hermit Kingdom. Moreover, an aqueduct is mentioned; the police force has been reorganised; drains have come and evil odours have fled. The population of the capital for the year 1903 was 194,000 adults. This is a decrease of 2546 upon the year 1902.

The period which has passed since the country was opened to foreign trade has given the inhabitants time to become accustomed to the peculiar differences which distinguish foreigners. It has afforded Koreans countless opportunities to select for themselves such institutions as may be calculated to promote their own welfare, and to provide at the same time compensating advantages for their departure from tradition. Not only by the construction of an electric tramway, the provision of long-distance telephones and telegraphs, the installation of electric light, a general renovation of its thoroughfares and its buildings, and the improvement of its system of drainage, does the capital of Korea give tokens of the spirit which is at work amongst its inhabitants. Reforms in education have also taken place; schools and hospitals have been opened; banks, foreign shops and agencies have sprung up; a factory for the manufacture of porcelain ware is in operation; and the number and variety of the religions with which foreign missionaries are wooing the people are as amazing and complex as in China. There will be no absence in the future of those soothing conjectures from which the consolations of religion may be derived. The conduct of educational affairs is arranged upon a basis which now gives every facility for the study of foreign subjects. Special schools for foreign languages, conducted by the Government under the supervision of foreign teachers, have been instituted. Indeed, most striking changes have been made in the curriculum of the common schools of the city. Mathematics, geography, history, besides foreign languages, are all subjects in the courses of these establishments, and, only lately, a special School of Survey, under foreign direction, has been opened. The enlightenment, which is thus spreading throughout the lower classes, cannot fail to secure some eventual modification of the views and sentiments by which the upper classes regard the progress of the country. As a sign of the times, it is worthy to note that several native newspapers have been started; while the increase of business has created the necessity for improved facilities in financial transactions, a development which has appealed not only to the Dai Ichi Ginko. The Russo-Chinese Bank is proposing to contend with this Japanese financial house. The establishment at Chemulpo of a branch of the Russian Bank is contemplated, from whence will come an issue of rouble notes to compete with the various denominations of the Japanese Bank. Moreover, the Government is preparing to erect a large building in foreign style in the centre of the city, to be used as the premises of the Central Bank of Korea. It will be a three-storied building, and it is intended to establish branches in all the thirteen provinces of the Empire. Its chief aim is to facilitate the transfer of Government moneys, the transport of which has always been a severe tax upon the Government. It will, however, engage in general banking business, and for this purpose Yi Yong-ik, the President of the Central Bank, is preparing at the Government mint one, five, ten and one hundred dollar bills for issue by it.

Along with these objects, the postal and telegraph service has received no little attention. Up to the year 1883 Korea was without telegraphic communication. At that time the Japanese laid a submarine cable from Nagasaki to the Korean port of Fusan with an intermediate station upon the island of Tsu-shima. A little later, in 1885, China, taking advantage of her suzerain rights, deputed Mr. J. H. Muhlensteth, a telegraph engineer who had been in her service many years and who formerly had been an employé of the Danish Telegraph System, to construct a land telegraph line from Chemulpo by way of Seoul and Pyöng-yang to Wi-ju on the Yalu River opposite the Chinese frontier post of An-tung, which had connection with the general system of Chinese telegraphs. This line toward the north-west was for many years the only means of telegraphic communication between the capital of Korea and the outside world. It was worked at the expense and under the control of the Chinese Government, and it was not until the time of the Chino-Japanese war, in the course of which the line was almost entirely destroyed, that it was reconstructed by the Korean Government.

In 1889 the Korean Government built a line from Seoul to Fusan. After the Chino-Japanese war, telegraphic communication was extended from Seoul to Won-san and Mok-po. During recent years continuous progress has been made until the total development in the interior has now reached 3500 kilometres, divided into twenty-seven bureaux and employing 113 men as directors, engineers, secretaries, and operators, with 303 as students. The Morse system is in use. The electricity is generated by the use of the Leclanché batteries. Telegrams may be sent either in the native Korean script, in Chinese, or in the code used by the Chinese administration, and in the different foreign languages authorised by the International Telegraph Agreement. Horse relays are kept at the different telegraph centres in the interior to facilitate communication with points far distant.

The subjoined table reveals by comparison the development in the Korean system of telegraphs which has taken place during recent years:

The establishment of the Imperial Postal System in Korea is comparatively recent. For many years, in fact for many centuries, Korea has possessed no postal service as we conceive of it. An official courier service was maintained by the King in order to carry on correspondence with the different provincial governors. These messengers travelled by horse relays, which were maintained at various points in the country. Private correspondence was carried on through the medium of travellers or pedlars, the sender having to arrange privately with the carrier in each instance. In 1877, Japan, who had entered the Postal Union and had concluded a treaty with Korea, established postal bureaux at Fusan, Won-san and Chemulpo for the needs of her nationals, who were already quite numerous in Korea. In 1882 the Customs Administration also established a sort of postal system between the different open ports and between Korea and China. But these organisations were limited to correspondence between open ports, and whoever wished to send a letter into the interior had to make private arrangements. In 1884 the Government of Korea made a first attempt to establish an official postal system which would be accessible to all.

It was not until 1895, however, after the close of the Chino-Japanese war, that the Korean Postal Service was at last established under the direction of a Japanese. For several years this service was confined to Korea herself, and did not undertake any foreign business. In 1897 the Korean Government determined to join the Postal Union, and to this end two representatives were sent to the Universal Postal Congress, held at Washington in May and June of that year. They signed the international agreement. Finally, in 1898, the Government secured the services of M. E. Clemencet, a member of the Postal and Telegraph Bureau of France, as adviser and instructor to the Postal Bureau, and on January 1, 1900, Korea entered the Postal Union.

The Service comprises, in addition to the central bureau at Seoul, thirty-seven postal stations, in full operation, and 326 sub-stations open to the exchange of ordinary or registered correspondence, whether domestic or foreign. Seven hundred and forty-seven letter boxes have been distributed throughout postal circuits in charge of these stations. Only the stations in full operation are carried on by agents or sub-agents under the control of the Director-General of Communications to the number of 756, of which 114 are agents and secretaries, and 642 are couriers, watchmen, &c. The management of secondary offices is in the hands of local country magistrates under the control of the Ministry of the Interior, and has no connection with the Department of Communications except in so far as the control and management of the postal system is directly affected. A network of land postal routes, starting out from Seoul along the seven main highways, is run daily in both directions by postal couriers. Each of the large country offices controls a courier service, which, in turn, connects with the smaller country offices. These secondary offices are served three times a week by unmounted postal couriers, who number in all 472 men. Each man carries on his back a maximum load of twenty kilogrammes. When the mail matter exceeds this limit extra men or pack horses are employed. The courier has to cover daily a minimum distance of forty kilometres. In central Korea and in the south and the north-west each route is covered, back and forth, in five days. In the north and north-east eight days are required for each round trip.

Besides these land courier services the Postal administration has employed, since Korea joined the Postal Union, various maritime services for forwarding mail matter to the different Korean ports and for the despatch of foreign mail. The different steamship companies which carry Korean mail are: The Nippon Yusen Kaisha, whose boats touch at Kobe, Nagasaki, Fusan, Mok-po (occasionally), Chemulpo, Chi-fu, Taku, Won-san and Vladivostock. The Osaka Chosen Kaisha boats, which touch at Fusan, Ma-san-po, Mok-po, Kun-san, Chemulpo and Chin-am-po. The last port is closed by ice from December to March. The Chinese Eastern Railway Company, whose boats ply between Vladivostock and Shanghai by way of Nagasaki, Chemulpo, Port Arthur, and Chi-fu, are also utilised.

NOT ONE WHIT EUROPEANISED

The man, who did so much to make a success of the Korean Customs has also effected the wonderful repairs of the capital. The new Seoul is scarcely seven years old, but Mr. McLeavy Brown and the Civil Governor, an energetic Korean official, since transferred, began, and concluded within four weeks, the labour of cleansing and reconstructing the slimy and narrow quarters in which so many people lived. To those, who knew the former state of the city, the task must have appeared Gargantuan. Nevertheless, an extraordinary metamorphosis was achieved. Old Seoul, with its festering alleys, its winter accumulations of every species of filth, its plastering mud and penetrating foulness, has almost totally vanished from within the walls of the capital. The streets are magnificent, spacious, clean, admirably made and well drained. The narrow, dirty lanes have been widened; gutters have been covered, and roadways broadened; until, with its trains, its cars, and its lights, its miles of telegraph lines, its Railway Station Hotel, brick houses and glass windows, Seoul is within measurable distance of becoming the highest, most interesting, and cleanest city in the East. It is still not one whit Europeanised, for the picturesqueness of the purely Korean principles and standards of architecture has been religiously maintained, and is to be observed in all future improvements.

The shops still cling to the sides of the drains; the jewellers’ shops hang above one of the main sewers of the city; the cabinet and table-makers occupy both sides of an important thoroughfare, their precious furniture half in and half out of filthy gutters. A Korean cabinet is a thing of great beauty. It is embossed with brass plates and studded with brass nails, very massive, well dovetailed, altogether superior in design and finish. The work of the jewellers is crude and unattractive, although individual pieces may reveal some artistic conception. In the main the ornaments include silver bangles, hairpins and earrings, with a variety of objects suitable for the decoration of the hair. The grain merchants and the vegetable dealers conduct their business in the road. The native merchant loves to encroach upon the public thoroughfares whenever possible. Once off the main streets of the city, the side alleys are completely blocked to traffic because of the predilection of the shopkeepers upon either side of the little passages to push their wares prominently into the roadway. The business of butchering is in Korea the most degraded of all trades. It is beyond even the acceptance and recognition of the most humble orders of the community. The meat shops are unpleasantly near the main drains.

A SIDE ALLEY

There are innumerable palaces in the capital, but as His Majesty very frequently enlarges his properties, there is the prospect of other buildings being adapted to his Imperial use. The precincts of the Palace always afford opportunities for foreigners to become familiar with the features of the many Ministers of State. In their anxiety to advise their sovereign, they wrangle among themselves, or plot and counterplot, and fight for the cards in their own hands, irrespective of the fate which their jealousies may bring down upon their country. At all hours processions of chairs are seen making for the palace, where, having deposited their masters, the retinue of retainers and followers lounge about until the audience is over. Then, with the same silent dignity, the Ministers are hurried away through the crowds of curiously hatted and clothed people who scarcely deign to notice the passing of the august personages.

The officials are elegantly superior in their manner and appearance. The distinction in the costumes of the different classes is evinced perhaps by the difference in their prices. The dress of a noble costs several hundred dollars. It is made from the finest silk lawn which can be woven upon the native looms. It is exceedingly costly, of a very delicate texture, and cream colour. It is ample in its dimensions and sufficiently enveloping to suggest a bath gown. It is held in place by two large amber buttons placed well over upon the right breast. A silken girdle of mauve cord encircles the body below the arm-pits. The costume of any one individual may comprise a succession of these silken coats of cream silk lawn, or white silk lawn, in spotless condition, with an outer garment of blue silk lawn. The movement of a number of these people dressed in similar style is like the rustle of a breeze in a forest of leaves. The dress of the less exalted is no less striking in its unblemished purity. It costs but a few dollars. It is made from grass lawn of varying degrees of texture or of plain stout calico. It is first washed, then pounded with heavy sticks upon stones, and, after being dried, beaten again upon a stock until it has taken a brilliant polish. This is the sole occupation of the women of the lower classes, and through many hours of the day and night the regular and rhythmic beating of these laundry sticks may be heard.

NATIVE DRESS

The costume of the women is in some respects peculiar to the capital. The upper garment consists of an apology for a zouave jacket in white or cream material, which may be of silk lawn, lawn, or calico. A few inches below this begins a white petticoat, baggy as a sail, touching the ground upon all sides, and attached to a broad band. Between the two there is nothing except the bare skin, the breasts being fully exposed. It is not an agreeable spectacle, as the women seen abroad are usually aged or infirm. At all times, as if to emphasise their fading charms, they wear the chang-ot, a thin, green, silk cloak, almost peculiar to the capital and used by the women to veil their faces in passing through the public streets. Upon the sight of man, they clutch it beneath the eyes. The neck of the garment is pulled over the head of the wearer, and the long, wide sleeves fall from her ears. The effect of the contrast between the hidden face and the naked breast is exceptionally ludicrous. When employed correctly only one eye, a suggestion of the cheek and a glimpse of the temple and forehead are revealed. It is, however, almost unnecessary, since in the case of the great majority of the women, their sole charm is the possible beauty that the chang-ot may conceal. They wear no other head-covering. For ordinary occasions they dress their hair quite simply at the nape of the neck, in a fashion not unlike that which Mrs. Langtry introduced.

THEY WEAR THE CHANG-OT

The head-dress of the men shows great variety, much as their costume possesses a distinctive character. When they are in mourning, the first stage demands a hat as large as a diminutive open clothes-basket. It is four feet in circumference and completely conceals the face, which is hidden further by a piece of coarse lawn stretched upon two sticks, and held just below the eyes. In this stage nothing whatever of the face may be seen. The second stage is denoted by the removal of the screen. The third period is manifested through the replacement of the inverted basket by the customary head-gear, made in straw colour. The ordinary head-covering takes the shape of the high-crowned hat worn by Welsh women, with a broad brim, made in black gauze upon a bamboo frame. It is held in place by a chain beneath the chin or a string of pieces of bamboo, between each of which small amber beads are inserted. There are a variety of indoor and ceremonial caps and bandeaux which are worn by the upper and middle classes.

A STUDY IN HATS

The hair is dressed differently by single and married men. If unmarried, they adopt the queue; when married, they put up their hair and twist it into a conical mass upon their heads, keeping it in place by a woven horsehair band, which completely encircles the forehead and base of the skull. A few, influenced by Western manners, have cropped their hair. This is specially noticeable among the soldiers on duty in the city, while, in compliance with the orders of the Emperor, all military and civil officials in the capital have adopted the foreign style. Boys and girls, the queerest and most dirty little brats, are permitted up to a certain age to roam about the streets, to play in the gutters, and about the sewage pits in a state of complete nudity—a form of economy which is common throughout the Far East. The boys quickly drift into clothes and occupations of a kind. The girls of the poorer orders are sold as domestic slaves and become attached to the households of the upper classes. From their subsequent appearance in the street, when they run beside the chairs of their mistresses, it is quite evident that they are taught to be clean and even dainty in their appearance. At this youthful age they are quaint and healthy looking children. The conditions under which they live, however, soon produce premature exhaustion.

Despite the introduction of certain reforms, there is still much of the old world about Seoul, many relics of the Hermit Kingdom. Women are still most carefully secluded. The custom, which allows those of the upper classes to take outdoor exercise only at night, is observed. Men are, however, no longer excluded from the streets at such hours. The spectacle of these white spectres of the night, flitting from point to point, their footsteps lighted by the rays of the lantern which their girl-slaves carry before them, is as remarkable as the appearance of Seoul by daylight, with its moving masses all garmented in white. A street full of Koreans aptly suggests, as Mr. Henry Norman, M.P., once wrote, the orthodox notion of the Resurrection. It cannot be denied that the appearance of both men and women makes the capital peculiarly attractive. The men are fine, well-built and peaceful fellows, dignified in their bearing, polite and even considerate towards one another. The type shows unmistakable evidences of descent from the half savage and nomadic tribes of Mongolia and Northern Asia and the Caucasian peoples from Western Asia.

These two races, coming from the North in the one case and drifting up from the South in the other, at the time of the Ayraan invasion of India, peopled the north and south of Korea. Finally merging among themselves, they gave to the world a composite nation, distinct in types, habits, and speech, and amalgamated only by a rare train of circumstances over which they could have had no control. It is by the facial resemblances that the origin of the Koreans may be traced to a Caucasian race. The speech of the country, while closely akin to Chinese, reproduces sounds and many verbal denominations which are found in the languages of India. Korea has submitted to the influence of Chinese arts and literature for centuries, but there is little actual agreement between the legends of the two countries. The folk-lore of China is in radical disagreement with the vague and shadowy traditions of the people of Korea. There is a vast blank in the early history of Korea, at a period when China is represented by many unimpaired records. Research can make no advance in face of it; surmise and logical reflections from extraneous comparisons alone can supply the requisite data. Posterity is thus presented with an unrecorded chapter of the world’s history, which at the best can be only faintly sketched.

MEANS OF LOCOMOTION

CHAPTER IV

The heart of the capital—Domestic Economy—Female slavery—Standards of morality—A dress rehearsal

A SANG-NO

The inhabitants of the Hermit Kingdom are peculiarly proficient in the art of doing nothing gracefully. There is, therefore, infinite charm and variety in the daily life of Korea. The natives take their pleasures passively, and their constitutional incapacity makes it appear as if there were little to do but to indulge in a gentle stroll in the brilliant sunshine, or to sit cross-legged within the shade of their houses. Inaction becomes them; nothing could be more unsuited to the character of their peculiar costume than vigorous movement. The stolid dignity of their appearance and their stately demeanour adds vastly to the picturesqueness of the street scenes. The white-coated, white-trousered, white-socked, slowly striding population is irresistibly fascinating to the eye. The women are no less interesting than the men. The unique fashion of their dress, and its general dissimilarity to any other form of feminine garb the world has ever known, renders it sufficiently characteristic of the vagaries of the feminine mind to be attractive.

Women do not appear very much in the streets during daylight. The degree of their seclusion depends upon the position which they fill in society. In a general way the social barriers which divide everywhere the three classes are well defined here. The yang-ban or noble is, of course, the ruling class. The upper-class woman lives rather like a woman in a zenana; from the age of twelve she is visible only to the people of her household and to her immediate relatives. She is married young, and thenceforth her acquaintances among men are restricted solely to within the fifth degree of cousinship. She may visit her friends, being usually carried by four bearers in a screened chair. She seldom walks, but should she do so her face is invariably veiled in the folds of a chang-ot. Few restrictions are imposed upon the women of the middle class as to their appearance in the streets, nor are they so closely secluded in the house as their aristocratic sisters; their faces are, however, veiled. The chang-ot is by no means so complete a medium of concealment as the veil of Turkey. Moreover, it is often cast aside in old age. The dancing-girls, slaves, nuns, and prostitutes, all included in the lowest class, are forbidden to wear the chang-ot. Women doctors, too, dispense with it, though only women of the highest birth are allowed to practise medicine.

WHITE-COATED, WHITE-SOCKED POPULATION

In a general way, the chief occupation of the Korean woman is motherhood. Much scandal arises if a girl attains her twentieth year without having married, while no better excuse exists for divorce than sterility. In respect of marriage, however, the wife is expected to supplement the fortune of her husband and to contribute to the finances of the household. When women of the upper classes wish to embark in business, certain careers, other than that of medicine, are open to them. They may cultivate the silkworm, start an apiary, weave straw shoes, conduct a wine-shop, or assume the position of a teacher. They may undertake neither the manufacture of lace and cloth, nor the sale of fruit and vegetables. A descent in the social scale increases the number and variety of the callings which are open to women. Those of the middle class may engage in all the occupations of the upper classes, with the exception of medicine and teaching. They may become concubines, act as cooks, go out as wet nurses, or fill posts in the palace. They may keep any description of shop, tavern, or hotel; they possess certain fishing privileges, which allow them to take clams, cuttle-fish, and bêches de mer. They may make every kind of boot and shoe. They may knit fishing-nets, and fashion tobacco-pouches.

If some little respect be accorded to women of the middle classes, those of a lower status are held in contempt. Of the occupations open to women of the middle classes, there are two in which women of humble origin cannot engage. They are ineligible for any position in the palace: they may not manufacture tobacco-pouches. They may become sorceresses, jugglers, tumblers, contortionists, dancing-girls and courtesans. There is this wide distinction between the members of the two oldest professions which the world has ever known: the dancing-girl usually closes her career by becoming the concubine of some wealthy noble; the courtesan does not close her career at all.

SHE MAY VISIT HER FRIENDS

It is impossible not to admire the activity and energy of the Korean woman. Despite the contempt with which she is treated, she is the great economic factor in the household and in the life of the nation. Force of circumstance has made her the beast of burden. She works that her superior lord and master may dwell in idleness, comparative luxury, and peace. In spite of the depressing and baneful effects of this absurd dogma of inferiority, and in contradiction of centuries of theory and philosophy, her diligent integrity is more evident in the national life than her husband’s industry. She is exceptionally active, vigorous in character, resourceful in emergency, superstitious, persevering, indomitable, courageous, and devoted. Among the middle and lower classes she is the tailor and the laundress of the nation. She does the work of a man in the household and of a beast in the fields; she cooks and sews; she washes and irons; she organises and carries on a business, or tills and cultivates a farm. In the face of every adversity, and in those times of trial and distress, in which her liege and lazy lord utterly and hopelessly collapses, it is she who holds the wretched, ramshackle home together. Under the previous dynasty, the sphere of the women of Korea was less restricted. There was no law of seclusion; the sex enjoyed greater public freedom. In its closing decades, however, the tone of society lowered, and women became the special objects of violence. Buddhist priests were guilty of widespread debauchery; conjugal infidelity was a pastime; rape became the fashion. The present dynasty endeavoured to check these evils by ordaining and promoting the isolation and greater subjection of the sex. Vice and immorality had been so long and so promiscuously practised, however, that already men had begun to keep their women in seclusion of their own accord. If they respected them to some extent, they were wholly doubtful of one another. Distrust and suspicion were thus the pre-eminent causes of this immuring of the women, the system developing of itself, as the male Koreans learnt to dread the evil propensities of their own sex. It is possible that the women find, in that protection which is now accorded them, some little compensation for the drudgery and interminable hard work that is their portion.

A MIDDLE-CLASS FAMILY

The system of slavery among the Koreans is confined, at present, to the possession of female slaves. Up to the time of the great invasion of Korea by the Japanese armies under Hideyoshi, in 1592, both male and female slaves were permitted. The loss of men in that war was so great that, upon its conclusion, a law was promulgated which forbade the bondage of males. There is, however, the sang-no (slave boy), who renders certain services only, and receives his food and clothes in compensation. The position of the sang-no is more humble than that filled by the paid servant and superior to that of the slave proper. He is bound by no agreement and is free to leave.

The duties of a slave comprise the rough work of the house. She attends to the washing—an exacting and continuous labour in a Korean household; carries water from the well, assists with the cooking, undertakes the marketing and runs errands. She is not allowed to participate in any duties of a superior character; her place is in the kitchen or in the yard, and she cannot become either a lady’s maid or a favoured servant of any degree. In the fulness of time she may figure in the funeral procession of her master.

There are four ways by which the Korean woman may become a slave. She may give herself into slavery, voluntarily, in exchange for food, clothes and shelter through her abject poverty. The woman who becomes a slave in this way cannot buy back her freedom. She has fewer rights than the slave who is bought or who sells herself. The daughter of any slave who dies in service continues in slavery. In the event of the marriage of her mistress such a slave ranks as a part of the matrimonial dot. A woman may be reduced to slavery by the treasonable misdemeanours of a relative. The family of a man convicted of treason becomes the property of the Government, the women being allotted to high officials. They are usually liberated. Again, a woman may submit herself to the approval of a prospective employer. If she is found satisfactory and is well recommended, her services may realise between forty, fifty, or one hundred thousand cash. When payment has been made, she gives a deed of her own person to her purchaser, imprinting the outline of her hand upon the document, in place of a seal, and for the purpose of supplying easy means of identification. Although this transaction does not receive the cognisance of the Government, the contract is binding.

IN WINTER COSTUME

As the law provides that the daughter of a slave must take the place of her parent, should she die, it is plainly in the interests of the owner to promote the marriage of his slaves. Slaves who receive compensation for their services are entitled to marry whom they please; quarters are provided for the couple. The master of the house, however, has no claim upon the services of the husband. The slave who voluntarily assigns herself to slavery and receives no price for her services may not marry without consent. In these cases it is not an unusual custom for her master, in the course of a few years, to restore her liberty.

Hitherto, the position of the Korean woman has been so humble that her education has been unnecessary. Save among those who belong to the less reputable classes, the literary and artistic faculties are left uncultivated. Among the courtesans, however, the mental abilities are trained and developed with a view to making them brilliant and entertaining companions. The one sign of their profession is the culture, the charm, and the scope of their attainments. These “leaves of sunlight,” a feature of public life in Korea, stand apart in a class of their own. They are called gisaing, and correspond to the geisha of Japan; the duties, environment, and mode of existence of the two are almost identical. Officially, they are attached to a department of Government, and are controlled by a bureau of their own, in common with the Court musicians. They are supported from the national treasury, and they are in evidence at official dinners and all palace entertainments. They read and recite; they dance and sing; they become accomplished artists and musicians. They dress with exceptional taste; they move with exceeding grace; they are delicate in appearance, very frail and very human, very tender, sympathetic, and imaginative. By their artistic and intellectual endowment, the dancing girls, ironically enough, are debarred from the positions for which their talents so peculiarly fit them. They may move through, and as a fact do live in, the highest society. They are met at the houses of the most distinguished; they may be selected as the concubines of the Emperor, become the femmes d’amour of a prince, the puppets of the noble. A man of breeding may not marry them, however, although they typify everything that is brightest, liveliest, and most beautiful. Amongst their own sex, their reputation is in accordance with their standard of morality, a distinction being made between those whose careers are embellished with the quasi chastity of a concubine, and those who are identified with the more pretentious display of the mere prostitute.

A PALACE CONCUBINE

In the hope that their children may achieve that success which will ensure their support in their old age, parents, when stricken with poverty, dedicate their daughters to the career of a gisaing, much as they apprentice their sons to that of a eunuch. The girls are chosen for the perfect regularity of their features. Their freedom from blemish, when first selected, is essential. They are usually pretty, elegant, and dainty. It is almost certain that they are the prettiest women in Korea, and, although the order is extensive and the class is gathered from all over the kingdom, the most beautiful and accomplished gisaing come from Pyöng-an. The arts and graces in which they are so carefully educated, procure their elevation to positions in the households of their protectors, superior to that which is held by the legal wife. As a consequence, Korean folk-lore abounds with stories of the strife and wifely lamentation arising from the ardent and prolonged devotion of husbands to girls, whom fate prevents their taking to a closer union. The women are slight of stature, with diminutive, pretty feet, and graceful, shapely hands. They are quiet and unassuming in their manner. Their smile is bright; their deportment modest, their appearance winsome. They wear upon state occasions voluminous, silk-gauze skirts of variegated hues; a diaphanous silken jacket, with long loose sleeves, extending beyond the hands, protects the shoulders; jewelled girdles, pressing their naked breasts, sustain their draperies. An elaborate, heavy and artificial head-dress of black hair, twisted in plaits and decorated with many silver ornaments, is worn. The music of the dance is plaintive and the song of the dancer somewhat melancholy. Many movements are executed in stockinged feet; the dances are quite free from indelicacy and suggestiveness. Indeed, several are curiously pleasing.

DANCING WOMEN OF THE COURT

Upon one occasion, Yi-cha-sun, the brother of the Emperor, invited me to watch the dress rehearsal of an approaching Palace festival. Although this exceptional consideration was shown me unsolicited, I found it quite impossible to secure permission to photograph the gliding, graceful figures of the dancers. When my chair deposited me at the yamen the dance was already in progress. The chairs of the officials and chattering groups of the servants of the dancers filled the compound; soldiers of the Imperial Guard kept watch before the gates. The air was filled with the tremulous notes of the pipes and viols, whose plaintive screaming was punctuated with the booming of drums. Within a building, the walls of which were open to the air, the rows of dancers were visible as they swayed slowly and almost imperceptibly with the music.

From the dais where my host was sitting the dance was radiant with colour. There were eighteen performers, grouped in three equal divisions, and, as the streaming sunshine played upon the shimmering surface of their dresses, the lithe and graceful figures of the dancers floated in the brilliant reflection of a sea of sparkling light. The dance was almost without motion, so slowly were its fantastic figures developed. Never once were their arms dropped from their horizontal position, nor did the size and weight of their head-dresses appear to fatigue the little women. Very slowly, the seated band gave forth the air. Very slowly, the dancers moved in the open space before us, their arms upraised, their gauze and silken draperies clustering round them, their hair piled high, and held in its curious shape by many jewelled and enamelled pins, which sparkled in the sunshine. The air was solemn; and, as if the movement were ceremonial, their voices rose and fell in a lingering harmony of passionate expression. At times, the three sets came together, the hues of the silken skirts blending in one vivid blaze of barbaric splendour. Then, as another movement succeeded, the eighteen figures broke apart and, poised upon their toes, in stately and measured unison circled round the floor, their arms rising and falling, their bodies bending and swaying, in dreamy undulation.

The dance epitomised the poetry and grace of human motion. The dainty attitudes of the performers had a gentle delicacy which was delightful. The long silken robes revealed a singular grace of deportment, and one looked upon dancers who were clothed from head to foot, not naked, brazen and unashamed, like those of our own burlesque, with infinite relief and infinite satisfaction. There was power and purpose in their movements; artistic subtlety in their poses. Their flowing robes emphasised the simplicity of their gestures; the pallor of their faces was unconcealed; their glances were timid; their manner modest. The strange eerie notes of the curious instruments, the fluctuating cadence of the song, the gliding motion of the dancers, the dazzling sheen of the silks, the vivid colours of the skirts, the flush of flesh beneath the silken shoulder-coats, appealed to one silently and signally, stirring the emotions with an enthusiasm which was irrepressible.

The fascinating figures approached softly, smoothly sliding; and, as they glided slowly forward, the song of the music welled into passionate lamentation. The character of the dance changed. No longer advancing, the dancers moved in time to the beating of the drums; rotating circles of colour, their arms swaying, their bodies swinging backwards and forwards, as their retreating footsteps took them from us. The little figures seemed unconscious of their art; the musicians ignorant of the qualities of their wailing. Nevertheless, the masterly restraint of the band, the conception, skill and execution of the dancers, made up a triumph of technique.

As the dance swept to its climax, nothing so accentuated the admiration of the audience as their perfect stillness. From the outer courts came for a brief instant the clatter of servants and the screams of angry stallions. Threatening glances quickly hushed the slaves, nothing breaking the magnetism of the dance for long. The dance ended, it became the turn of others to rehearse their individual contributions, while those who were now free sat chatting with my host, eating sweets, smoking cigarettes, cigars, or affecting the long native pipe. Many, discarding their head-dresses, lay upon their sitting mats, their eyes closed in momentary rest as their servants fanned them. His Highness apparently appreciated the familiarity with which they treated him. In the enjoyment and encouragement of their little jokes he squeezed their cheeks and pinched their arms, as he sat among them.

BOYS

CHAPTER V

The Court of Korea—The Emperor and his Chancellor—The Empress and some Palace factions

HIS IMPERIAL HIGHNESS, PRINCE YI-CHA-SUN

A study of the morals and personalities of the Court of Korea throws no little light upon the interesting phases of its contemporary condition, even affording some explanation of the political differences and difficulties which, if now in the past, may be expected none the less to crop up again. Since the dastardly murder by the Japanese of the Queen, who held the reins of Government with strong hands, the power of the Emperor has been controlled by one or other of the Palace factions. His Majesty is now almost a cypher in the management of his Empire. Nominally, the Emperor of Korea enjoys the prerogative and independence of an autocrat; in reality he is in the hands of that party whose intrigues for the time being may have given them the upper hand. He is the slave of the superb immoralities of his women. When he breaks away from their gentle thraldom, in the endeavour to free himself from their political associations, his exceedingly able and unscrupulous Minister, Yi Yong-ik, the chief of the Household Bureau, rules him with a rod of iron. It matters not in what direction the will of his Majesty should lie, it is certain to be thwarted with the connivance of Palace concubines or by the direct bribery of Ministers. If the King dared, Yi Yong-ik would be degraded at once. No previous Minister has proved so successful, however, in supplying the Court with money; and, as the Emperor dreads an empty treasury, he maintains him in his confidence.

HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY THE EMPEROR

In the position of Minister of Finance and Treasurer of the Imperial Palace, which he once filled, Yi Yong-ik opposed foreign supervision of the revenues of the Maritime Customs. Acting in concert with the Russian and French Ministers, he was primarily responsible for the most recent crisis in the affairs of Mr. McLeavy Brown, the Chief Comptroller and Executive Administrator of the Korean Maritime Customs. At a time when the Imperial household was in need of money, Yi Yong-ik created the desire for a loan by withholding the revenue of the Privy Purse from his master. It was explained to his Majesty that his financial embarrassments were due to the action of his Chief Commissioner of Customs in locking up the proceeds of the Customs. Supported by the influence of the Russian and French Ministers, Yi Yong-ik suggested that the Customs revenue should become the security for the loan which was being pressed upon him by a French syndicate. When Mr. McLeavy Brown heard of the transaction between the agent of the syndicate and the Minister of Finance, he at once repudiated any hypothecation of the revenues of the Customs for such a purpose. In co-operation with the French and Russian Ministers, Yi Yong-ik, upon a variety of pretexts, attempted to bring about the peremptory dismissal of the Chief Commissioner of the Customs. He was foiled in this by the unexpected demonstration of a British Squadron in Chemulpo Harbour, and the attendant preparation and embarkation of a field force at Wei-hai-wei. Upon the withdrawal of the guarantee of the Customs revenue the Franco-Russian scheme collapsed, the agent of the interested syndicate returning to Europe to complain of the action of the British Minister and the Chief Commissioner of Customs.

Yi Yong-ik is an instance, together with that afforded by Lady Om, of a Korean of most humble birth rising to a position of great importance in the administration of the country. A man of low parentage, he attached himself to the fortunes of Min Yeung-ik, gradually forcing himself upon the notice of his patron, as also of his sovereign. The services which Yi Yong-ik rendered to the throne during the émeute of 1884, when he was a chair coolie in the service of the late Queen, found responsive echo in the memories of their Majesties, who procured his preferment. He was advanced to a position in which his admitted sagacity, strength of mind, and shrewdness were of material assistance, continuing to rise until he became Minister of Finance. He has thus made his own position from very insignificant beginnings, and, in justice to him, it may be said that he serves the interests of his Majesty to the best of his ability. Nevertheless he is in turn feared and detested. Numerous attempts have been made against him, while, within the last few months, failing to take his life by poisoned food, some unknown enemies discharged an infernal machine in the room at the Seoul Hospital where he was confined during an attack of sickness. Alternately upon the crest of the wave or in the backwash of the tide, Yi Yong-ik remains the most enduring personality in the Court. The Russian influence is behind him, while the Emperor also is secretly upon the side of his energetic Minister. At a moment, recently, when the opposition against him became too strong, Yi Yong-ik took refuge upon a Russian warship, which at once carried him to Port Arthur. From this retreat he negotiated for a safe return with his Majesty, who at once granted him a strong escort. Yi Yong-ik then returned and, proceeding at once to the Palace, quickly reinstated himself in the good graces of his master, thus again thwarting the plans and secret machinations of his opponents.

His Majesty the Emperor of Korea was fifty years old in September 1900, being called to the throne in 1864, when he was thirteen. He was married at the age of fifteen to the Princess Min, a lady of birth, of the same age as her husband. It was she who was wantonly assassinated by the Japanese in 1895. The son of this union is the Crown Prince. His Majesty is somewhat short of stature, as compared with the average height of the Korean. He is only five feet four inches. His face is pleasant; impassive in repose, brightening with an engaging smile when in conversation. His voice is soft and pleasing to the ear; he talks with easy assurance, some vivacity and nervous energy.

During an audience with a foreigner, the manner of the Emperor has an air of frankness and singular bonhomie. He talks with every one, pointing his remarks with graceful gestures, and interrupting his sentences with melodious and infectious laughter. The mark of the Emperor’s favour is the receipt of a fan. When a foreigner is presented to him, it is customary to find upon the conclusion of the audience a small parcel awaiting his acceptance, containing a few paper fans and sometimes a roll of silk. The Emperor rarely exceeds this limit to his Imperial patronage, for, like the rest of his people, he cannot afford to be unduly generous.

The dress of his Majesty upon these occasions is remarkable for its impressive and Imperial grandeur. A long golden silk robe of state, embroidered with gold braid, with a girdle of golden cord, edged with a heavy gold fringe, covers him. While the magnificence of this attire excites envy in the heart of any one who sees it, the ease and dignity of his carriage suggest his complete unconsciousness of the impression which he is creating in the minds of his guests.

The Emperor is ignorant of Western languages, but he is an earnest student of those educational works which have been translated for the purposes of the schools he has established in his capital. In this way he has become singularly well informed upon many subjects. He speaks and writes Chinese with fluency, and he is a most profound student of the history of his own people. The method and system of his rule is based on the thesis of his own personal supervision of all public business. If there be some little difference between the Utopia of his intentions and the actual achievement of his government, it is impossible to deny his assiduity and perseverance. He is a kind, amiable, and merciful potentate, desirous of the advancement of his country. He works at night, continuing the sessions and conferences with his Ministers until after dawn. He has faults, many, according to the Western standards by which I have no intention of judging him. He has also many virtues; and, he receives, and deserves, the sympathy of all foreigners in the vast works of reform which he has encouraged in his dominions.

THE HALL OF AUDIENCE, SEOUL

His Majesty is progressive. In view of the number and magnitude of the developments which have taken place under his rule, it is impossible to credit him with any of those prejudices against Western innovations which have distinguished the East from time immemorial. There are special schools in Seoul for teaching English, French, German, Russian, Chinese and Japanese; there is a School of Law, a School of Engineering and Science, a School of Medicine, and a Military Academy. These are but a few minor indications of the freedom of his rule, the sure sign of a later prosperity. He is tolerant of missionaries, and he is said to favour their activities. It is certain that his rule permits great liberty of action, while it is distinguished by extraordinary immunity from persecution. His reign is in happy contrast with the inter-regnum of the Regent, Tai Won Kun, who regarded priests and converts as a pest, and who eradicated them to the best of his ability.

As the autocratic monarch of a country, whose oldest associations are opposed to all external interference, the attitude of his Majesty has been instinct with the most humane principles, with great integrity of purpose and much enlightenment. It cannot be said that his reign has been a failure, or that it has not tended to the benefit of his people and his realms. Certain evil practices still exist, but his faults as an Emperor are, to a great extent, due to the worthlessness of his officials. Indeed, he frequently receives the condemnation which should be passed upon the minds and morals of his Ministers.

Saving Yi Yong-ik, the most important figure in the Court is the mature and elderly Lady Om, the wife of his Majesty. In a Court which is abandoned to every phase of Eastern immorality, it is a little disappointing to find that the first lady in the land no longer possesses those charms of face and figure, which should explain her position. There is no doubt that the Lady Om is a clever woman. She is most remarkably astute in her management of the Emperor, whose profound attachment to her is a curious paradox. Lady Om is mature, fat, and feebly, if freely, frolicsome. Her face is pitted with small-pox; her teeth are uneven; her skin is of a saffron tint. There is some suggestion of a squint in her dark eyes, a possible reminder of the pest which afflicts all Koreans. She paints very little and she eschews garlic. Her domination of the Emperor is wonderful. Except at rare intervals, and then only when the assent of Lady Om to the visit of a new beauty has been given, he has no eye for any other woman. Nevertheless, the Lady Om has not always been a Palace beauty; she was not always the shining light of the Imperial harem. Her amours have made Korean history; only two of her five children belong to the Emperor; yet one of these may become the future occupant of his father’s throne.

THEIR IMPERIAL HIGHNESSES THE CROWN PRINCE AND PRINCESS

In her maiden days, she became the mistress of a Chinaman; tiring of him she passed into the grace and favour of a Cabinet Minister. He introduced her to the service of the late Queen, whose acquaintance she made at the house of her father, a Palace attendant of low degree, with quarters within the walls. By the time that she became a woman in the service of her Majesty, the Lady Om had presented a child to each of her respective partners. As the virtue of the women in attendance upon the Queen had of necessity to be assured, her previous admirers kept their counsel for the safety of their own heads. The Lady Om boasted abilities which distinguished her among the other maids in attendance. She sang to perfection, danced with consummate grace; painted with no little delicacy and originality, and could read, write, and speak Chinese and Korean with agreeable fluency. The Queen took a fancy to her apparently innocent, guileless, and very lovable attendant. Imitating the excellent example of his illustrious spouse, his Majesty sealed the rape of virtue with a kingly smile. The Queen grew restless. Suspicion, confirmed by appearances, developed into certainty, and the Lady Om fled from the Palace to escape the anger and jealousy of her late mistress. The third child, of whom Lady Om became the mother, was born beyond the capital, in the place of refuge where the errant Griselle had taken up her abode. Meanwhile, Lady Om avoided the parental establishment within the purlieus of the Palace. Upon the death of her third child she sought the protection of another high official. With him she dwelt in safety, peace, and happiness, becoming, through her strange faculty of presenting each admirer with evidences of her innocence, the subject of some ribald songs. Since her return to Imperial favour, these verses have been suppressed, and may not be uttered upon pain of emasculation.

It now seemed as if the Lady Om had settled down, but the events of 1895, culminating in the foul murder of the late Queen, prompted her to renew her acquaintance with the unhappy Emperor. She became a Palace attendant again, and at once cleverly succeeded in bringing herself before the Imperial notice. She was sweetly sympathetic towards his Majesty; her commiseration, her tenderness, her suppliant air of injured innocence, almost immediately captivated him. She was raised to the rank of an Imperial concubine; money was showered upon her, and she proceeded immediately to exercise an influence over the Emperor which has never relaxed. She became a power at Court and once again a mother. Her influence is now directed towards the definite maintenance of her own interests. She wishes her son to be the future Emperor; she is now living in a palace, and, since she is the apple of his Majesty’s eye, she permits nothing to endanger the stakes for which she is playing. Recently Kim Yueng-chun, an official of importance but of precarious position, wishing to secure himself in the consideration of his sovereign, introduced a new beauty, whose purity and loveliness were unquestioned. Lady Om heard of Lady Kang and said nothing. Within two weeks, however, the Minister was removed upon some small pretext, and subsequently tortured, mutilated, and strangled. The Lady Kang found that if the mills of Lady Om grind slowly, they grind exceedingly small.

Lady Om is a lover of ancient customs; by ancient customs she made her way; by ancient customs she proposes to keep it. Her power increases daily, and a stately edifice has been erected in the centre of the capital to commemorate her virtues. A few months before her marriage to the Emperor, when there was ample indication of the trend of events, the Emperor published a decree which declared that Lady Om had become an Imperial concubine of the First Class. This did not give her Imperial status; but it conferred upon her son Imperial rank. By reason of this decree, however, he will, at some future date, ascend the throne, while it opened a way for Lady Om to secure recognition in Korea as the lawful spouse of her royal admirer.

A MINOR ROYALTY

CHAPTER VI

The passing of the Emperor—An Imperial pageant

The Emperor passed one morning in procession from the Imperial Palace, which adjoins the British Legation upon its south wall, to the newly erected Temple of Ancestors, the eastern wall of which marks the limits of the Legation grounds. The festival was in no way public; yet, such was the splendour of the pageant, that this progress of eight hundred yards, leaving the Palace by its south gate and entering again by the eastern gate, cost over two thousand pounds. No warning of the Imperial plans was given to his Majesty’s subjects. Just before the hour of his departure, however, the Emperor expressed the hope that the British Minister and myself would be interested in the procession, inviting us to watch the spectacle from the Legation domain. Information of the movements of the Court was, of course, bruited abroad. Large crowds gathered around the precincts of the Palace and the Temple, attracted by the efforts which the soldiers were making to form a cordon round the scene. Hundreds of soldiers were told off to guard the approaches to the Temple. One battalion of infantry was installed in the grounds of the Imperial Korean Customs, another occupied the gates and garden of the British Legation.

Despite the fact that the route of the procession lay between the high walls of a private passage, some twenty-five feet wide, leading from the offices of the Customs to the grounds of the Legation, into which a postern gate gives access from the Palace, and through which no Korean is ever permitted to pass, soldiers, one pace apart, faced one another upon opposite sides of the road. The public, seeing nothing of the ceremony, gathered such consolation as was possible from the spectacle of the masses of infantry occupying the Palace Square. Occasional glimpses of Palace officials were also secured, and the blatant discord of triumphant song, with which the private musicians of the Emperor greeted his arrival and the passing of the Court, fell faintly upon expectant ears. It is, however, the proud privilege of the Koreans to pay for these promenades of the Court. If they did not see the august countenance of his Majesty upon this occasion, it is to be hoped that they derived some consolation for the heavy taxation, with which they are burdened, from the brave show made by the brand new uniforms of the troops. The plumes, gold lace and swords of the officers, and the rifles and bayonets of the men would have fascinated any crowd. Until the moment of departure, the army lay around upon the road, sleeping in the dust, or squatted in the shade upon the steps of buildings, partaking of breakfast—a decomposed mass of sun-dried, raw fish and rice which stunk horribly, but which they devoured greedily, tearing it into shreds with their fingers. Occasionally a loyal citizen brought them water or passed round a pipe, taking the opportunity to run his finger along the edge of a bayonet, or over the surface of a coat.

The Emperor was passing in this festive state to pay homage to the tablets of his ancestors upon their transference to a fresh abode. The gorgeousness of the pageant burst upon the colourless monotony of the capital with all the violent splendour and vivid beauty of an Arabian sunset. It was right and proper that the magnificence of the celebration should be unrestricted. The importance of the occasion was without parallel in the festivals of the year. The momentary brilliancy of the picture, which centres round the usually secluded sovereign at such a moment, implied the glorification of a dynasty, which has already occupied the throne of Korea for more than five centuries. Quaint and stately as the pageant was, the splendour of a barbaric mediævalism is best seen in processions of a more public character.

WITHIN THE PALACE GROUNDS, SEOUL

The procession started from the Palace about 10 A.M. It presented elements strangely suggestive of burlesque, romance, and the humours of a pantomime. Korean infantry, in blue uniforms, headed the order of the advance from the Palace, their modern dress and smart accoutrements forming the one link between the middle ages and the twentieth century, to which the function could lay claim. After them, running, stumbling, and chattering noisily, passed a mob of Palace attendants in fantastic hats and costumes of various degrees of brilliancy, long silken robes of blue, green, yellow, red and orange, carrying staves bound with embroidered streamers of coloured ribbons. A line of bannermen followed, bearing red silken flags with blue characters, also hurrying and stumbling forward; then passed a file of pipes and drums, the men in yellow robes with the shimmer of gold about them, streamers fluttering from the pipes, ribbons decking the drums. Men bearing arrows in leather frames and flags of green, red and yellow, were next. Soldiers in ancient costume, wonderful to behold, men with bells and jingling cymbals, pipes and fans, Palace eunuchs in Court dress, detachments of dismounted cavalry, their horses not appearing, but their riders garbed in voluminous shirts, their hats covered with feathers and wearing high boots, swept along, amiable and foolish of aspect.

IMPERIAL THRONE, SEOUL

The procession, which preceded the passing of the Emperor, seemed almost unending. At every moment the sea of colour broke into waves of every imaginable hue, as one motley crowd of retainers, servants, musicians and officials gave place to another. Important and imposing officials in high-crowned hats, adorned with crimson tassels festooned with bunches of feathers and fastened by a string of amber beads round the throat, were pushed along, silent and helpless. Their dresses were glaring combinations of red and blue and orange; they were supported by men in green gauze coats and followed by other signal marks of Korean grandeur, more banners and bannermen, flags decorated with feathers, servants carrying boxes of refreshments, small tables, pipes and fire. These were succeeded by others just as imposing, helpless and beautiful to behold; the breasts and backs of their superb robes were decorated with satin squares, embroidered, after the style of China, with the symbols of their offices—birds for civilians, tigers for those of military rank. Statesmen in their official robes gave place to others in winged hats or lofty mitres, gleaming with tinsel. The Commander-in-Chief, with Japanese, Chinese, and Korean decorations flashing in the sunshine from the breast of his modern uniform, followed by his staff in red coats heavily braided with gold lace, and with white aigrettes waving in their hats, passed, marching proudly at the head of the Imperial body-guard. The final stream of colour showed nobles in blue and green silk gauze; Imperial servants with robes of yellow silk, their hats decorated with rosettes; more mediæval costumes, of original colour and quaint conception; a greater multitude of waving flags; a group of silken-clad standard-bearers bearing the Imperial yellow silk flag, the Imperial umbrella, and other insignia. Then a final frantic beating of drums, a horrid jangling of bells, a fearful screaming of pipes, a riot of imperious discord mingled with the voices of the officials shouting orders and the curses of the eunuchs, and finally the van of the Imperial cortège appeared, in a blaze of streaming yellow light, amid a sudden silence in which one could hear the heart-beats of one’s neighbour. The voices died away; the scraping of hurried footsteps alone was audible as the Imperial chair of state, canopied with yellow silk richly tasselled, screened with delicate silken panels of the same colour and bearing wings to keep off the sun, was rushed swiftly and smoothly forward. Thirty-two Imperial runners, clad in yellow, with double mitres upon their heads, bore aloft upon their shoulders the sacred and august person of his Imperial Majesty, the Emperor, to his place of sacrifice and worship in his Temple of Ancestors.

The business of the day had now arrived. Presently the Emperor’s bearers stopped, and he alighted at the entrance of a tent of yellow silk, which had been erected at the angle of the Palace and Legation walls, within the shade of trees in the Legation garden. It was in this spot that his Majesty had given us permission to watch the passing of his Court. It was here, within a moment of his arrival, that the retinue of the Crown Prince, his chair of red silk borne upon the shoulders of sixteen bearers, stopped to set down its princely burden. The Emperor and the Crown Prince passed within the tent, changing the Imperial yellow and crimson robes of state in which they had first appeared for the sacrificial yellow silk, and emerging a little later to make obeisance before the passing of the tablets of their ancestors. The character of the procession was now modified. Soldiers and courtiers, nobles and dignitaries of the Court, gave place to priests clothed in the yellow robes of sacrifice, and chanting in solemn tones the words of benediction. The screaming of pipes took on fresh vigour, rising and falling in shrill cadence, until the air vibrated with conflicting discords. Men, solemn of visage, their yellow skirts swaying with the frenzy of their movements, swept past the throne, a surge of song rising to their lips expressive of the passionate despair and lamentation which (should have) filled their souls. They disappeared, a mocking echo haunting their retreating footsteps. Again the music of the priests broke forth in noisy triumph, heralding the presence of the twelve ancestral tablets, each carried by eight men in chairs of sacrificial yellow, which demanded the homage of the expectant pair. One came, moving slowly in a burst of solemn song. The Emperor, his son the Crown Prince, and the baby Prince, the offspring of Lady Om, dropped to the earth. For a moment they rested upon their bended knees, with crossed hands, in a reverent attitude, as their own proud heads sank to the dust before the gilded burdens in the sacred chairs. Twelve times they passed before the Imperial group; twelve times each Prince humbled himself, the circle of supporting nobles and attendant eunuchs assisting them.

IMPERIAL TABLET-HOUSE, SEOUL

It was the first appearance of the baby Prince. Scarcely old enough to toddle, he was of necessity aided in his devotions by the chief eunuch, who pressed him to his knees, placing a restraining hand upon his head, a guiding hand upon his shoulder. The babe followed everything with wide-open, innocent eyes, becoming tired and fidgety before the ceremony had concluded. The demeanour of the Imperial pair showed every sign of reverence and devotion. The absolute sincerity of their humiliation impressed those who watched the scene with feelings of astonishment. The emotion of the Emperor was plainly manifest; he had paled visibly, his whole being centred upon the objects of his veneration. When the ceremony had ended the twelve chairs turned towards the Ancestral Temple, and, as the Emperor ensconced himself in his yellow chair of state, and the Crown Prince, following the example of his father, mounted to his seat of crimson silk, the babe rode upon the back of the chief eunuch, crowing with boyish and infantile delight. Once again the flourish of the musicians, the rattle of the drums, the screaming of the fifes and pipes broke forth. The procession was moving, priests and nobles, courtiers and Palace servants following in the train of the Emperor.

The procession of the Emperor pressed forward to the temple, the tablets halting before the Temple of Ancestors, while the Emperor and the two Princes proceeded to the Hall of Sacrifice, where offerings of live sheep were burnt, and baskets of fruit and flowers presented before the altars. The spirits of the illustrious dead thus propitiated, the Emperor returned to the sacred chairs, once again paying his devotion to the tablets. One by one each was borne from its chair to the receptacle prepared for its future keeping. Panels of yellow silk screened them; no eye was permitted to gaze upon them, nor any hand to touch them, as each, wrapped in its inviolate sanctity of yellow silk, passed from its chair of state to its holy place. Priests attended them; the throne followed in their wake, the entire Court, the highest nobles and statesmen in the land, bowed down to them. An atmosphere at once devotional and filial prevailed, for the cult of Ancestor Worship epitomises the loftiest aspirations of the Korean. It governs the actions of a parent towards his child; controls the conduct of a child towards its parent.

AN IMPERIAL PAVILION, SEOUL

The ceremony over, the scene within the Temple became more brilliant. Ladies from the Palace appeared. Cakes and wine were produced, and the Emperor and Crown Prince resumed their robes of state, discarding the sacrificial garments. The Lady Om came to congratulate the Emperor, attended by a retinue of gaily-dressed Palace women and slaves, their hair piled high, their shimmering silken skirts trailing in graceful folds about them. The Court musicians played; the Court singers sang, and the prettiest women swayed in a joyous dance. Within the private apartments of the sovereign there was feasting and merriment. His Majesty was himself again. The world, which he had shown us, and in which we had been so interested, changed quickly. Looking at the disorderly scramble of the return, the scene that had passed before us seemed like a dream. Yet, for a few hours, we had been living in the shadow of the middle ages.

CHAPTER VII

Sketch of Mr. McLeavy Brown—The Question of the Customs—The suggested Loan

It is perhaps curious that the man who has held the Korean State together, during the past few years, should be British—one of those sons of the Empire, upon whose work the present generation looks with satisfaction. It is nearly thirty years ago since Mr. McLeavy Brown made his appearance in China. To-day, among Englishmen whose reputations are associated with the problems and politics of the Far East, his name stands out almost as prominently as that of his colleague, Sir Robert Hart, the Inspector-General of the Imperial Maritime Customs of China. Seconded from the Chinese Customs for special duty, Mr. McLeavy Brown has devoted many years of his life to the financial difficulties which beset Korea, holding at first the dual position of Treasurer-General and Chief Commissioner of Customs. Within the last few years, Mr. McLeavy Brown’s activity has been confined to the administration of the Customs Service, where, though deprived of the unique and influential position filled by him as financial adviser to the Emperor, he has succeeded in accomplishing invaluable work for the country.

A man may be judged by the character of those who gather round him, and when, weary of the carping and pettiness that prevail in Seoul, one turns to the service which Mr. McLeavy Brown represents, it is to find his colleagues animated by a quiet enthusiasm, and a spirit of generous devotion, and loyalty to his principles and policy. Unfortunately, his supporters are not in the capital, and he can derive no encouragement from their sympathy. Their sphere of work lies in the treaty ports, but he is content to remain in Seoul always fighting, in grim and stoical silence, against the absurd extravagances of the Court, and the infamous corruption of the officials. So long as he perseveres in this duty, just so long will he be hampered and thwarted in all quarters. The very opposition which he encounters, however, is no unemphatic testimony to the exceeding and exceptional value of the work which he has already achieved, in the face of every obstacle to systematic progress and reform, that the craft and cunning of officialdom can devise.

Mr. J. McLeavy Brown, C.M.G., LL. D.

The animus which prevails against Mr. McLeavy Brown occasions, to those who are new to Seoul, sentiments of profound astonishment and dismay, but after the first feeling of strangeness has worn off, and it becomes possible to grasp the peculiar and complex variety of people who have gathered in the capital of the Hermit Kingdom, the causes responsible for the existence of such an opinion are very plainly revealed. Apart from the Legations, there are few foreigners, not even excepting the representatives of the very miscellaneous collection of American missionaries, who have not come to Seoul from motives of self-interest, which bring them into collision, directly or indirectly, with the Chief Commissioner of the Customs in his official capacity. If no longer the financial adviser of the Government, his counsel is sought as occasion arises; although his advice is not necessarily followed, it frequently happens that the influence of the Chief Commissioner of the Customs becomes the controlling factor in the negotiations between a bewildered and impecunious Court and an importunate concession-hunter. Moreover, cases may occur when an upright regard for the interests of the kingdom makes it incumbent upon Mr. McLeavy Brown to urge the rejection of proposals, which have not come through the channels of his own office. Such a variation of the orthodox method of application may happen any day in Seoul. While this attempted exercise of a power of veto does not endear him to the seeker after Ministerial “considerations,” the impersonal spirit, in which he discharges the functions of his office, atones for any exceptional interference he may deem necessary. Much of the feeling which actuates foreigners and officials against Mr. McLeavy Brown, therefore, is based upon a thoughtless disregard for the elementary facts in his very delicate position. There is, of course, no suggestion against his honour. In a community, accustomed to the financial backsliding which appears to be an inevitable preliminary to any concession, the exponent of a policy of economy and straight dealing always provokes the strongest animosity in those about him.

A more emotional man than the Chief Commissioner would have tired of the thankless part which he is compelled to play. Years of laborious work, and the habit, which he has acquired in the isolated state in which he lives, of concentrating his energies upon the subject before him, enable him to school himself against the trials of his situation. He treats every one with unfailing frankness and directness, but the kindly instincts which illuminate his private life are submerged in the cares and worry of his official position. During business hours he becomes the cold, irresponsive machine of State; his whole imagination and ingenuity focused upon the necessity of checking those who would incite their Sovereign to acts subversive of the principles of financial rectitude, which Mr. McLeavy Brown would fain see encouraged.

Only those who have had experience of Korea can thoroughly appreciate the fertility of the Korean official in inventing new schemes by which public money may be appropriated to his private uses. If the condition of the finances had not already made the practice of economy imperative, this tendency would justify the determination to deny the means of peculation to officials. Mr. McLeavy Brown has therefore brought into accord the necessity of economy, which underlies the existence of the Customs, with the principles of the system upon which he administers the service. It is, in the matter of the foreign staff of the Korean Customs, impossible for Korean officials to take exception to the standard of payment by which the services of these foreigners are compensated. If this all-pervading retrenchment makes employment in the Korean Customs exceptionally unsatisfactory to its minor foreign officials, a very clear reason for the low payment is nevertheless found in the narrow margin which divides the total revenue from the total expenditure. Moreover, the Chief Commissioner is himself the chief sufferer.

Mr. McLeavy Brown has long been an enigma in Seoul. Although the variety of his gifts and the hospitable quality of his nature make him an important element in the life of the capital, there are few who care to study the man and his movements intelligently. Mr. McLeavy Brown possesses many moods; and the isolation in which he is placed, by the absence of any sympathy between himself and the people among whom he lives, renders the circumstances of his position almost pathetic. When, in 1896, he refused to accept any salary for the hopeless and onerous post of Financial Comptroller of the Imperial Treasury, the foreign community of Seoul were astounded. This refusal to burden still further the resources of an exhausted country is, however, an index to the guiding principles of his life. There is no dissembling in his transactions. Although he may temper an ill wind with promises, the continuity of his decision is maintained, and he attempts to carry out independently and honestly anything to which he may have pledged himself. He is indefatigable in his work; indomitable in his perseverance, cool and determined. A barrister by profession, he devotes himself to the minutiæ of his service with an attention which discloses his legal training. In his estimate of a person, no less than a situation, he seldom errs.