Korea & Her Neighbours/Chapter XXX

At Cha san, a magistracy, we rejoined the road from which we had diverged on the northward journey. It is a quiet, decayed place, though in a good agricultural country. As I had been there before, the edge of curiosity was blunted, and there was no mobbing. The people gave a distressing ac- count of their sufferings from the Chinese soldiers, who robbed them unscrupulously, took what they wanted without paying, and maltreated the women. The Koreans deserted, through fright, the adjacent ferry village of Ou-Chin-gang, where we previously crossed the Tai-dong, and it was held by 53 Chi- nese, being an important post. Two Japanese scouts appeared on the other side of the river, fired, and the Chinese detach- ment broke and fled ! At Cha san, as elsewhere, the people expressed intense hatred of the Japanese, going so far as to say that they would not leave one of them alive ; but, as in all other places, they bore unwilling testimony to the good con- duct of the soldiers, and the regularity with which the com- missariat paid for supplies.

The Japanese detachments were being withdrawn from the posts along that road, and we passed several well-equipped de- tachments, always preceded by bulls loaded with red blankets. The men were dressed in heavy gray ulsters with deep fur- lined collars, and had very thick felt gloves. They marched as if on parade, and their officers were remarkable for their smartness. When they halted for dinner, they found every- thing ready, and had nothing to do but stack their arms and eat ! The peasant women went on with their avocations as usual. In that district and in the region about Tok Chhon, the women seclude themselves in monstrous hats like our wicker garden sentry-boxes, but without bottoms. These ex- traordinary coverings are 7 feet long, 5 broad, and 3 deep, and shroud the figure from head to foot. Heavy rain fell during the night, and though the following day was beautiful, the road was a deep quagmire, so infamously bad that when only two and a half hours from Phyong-yang we had to stop at the wayside inn of An-chin-Miriok, where I slept in a gran- ary only screened from the stable by a bamboo mat, and had the benefit of the squealing and vindictive sounds which ac- companied numerous abortive fights. If possible, the next day exceeded its predecessors in beauty, and though the draw- backs of Korean travelling are many, this journey had been so bright and so singularly prosperous, except for Im's accident, which, however, brought out some of the best points of Korean character, that I was even sorry to leave the miserable little hostelry and conclude the expedition, and part with ihe^napUy who throughout had behaved extremely well. The next morn- ing, crossing the battlefield once more and passing through the desolations which war had wrought, I reached my old, cold, but comparatively comfortable quarters at Phyong-yang, where I remained for six days.

While the river remained open, a small Korean steamer of uncertain habits, the Hariong, plied nominally between Phyong-yang and Chemulpo, but actually ran from Po-san, a point about 60 // lower down the Tai-dong, which above it is too shallow and full of sandbanks for vessels of any draught, necessitating the transhipment of all goods not brought up by junks of small tonnage. There was, however, no telegraph between Po-san and Phyong-yang, no one knew when the steamer arrived except by cargo coming up the river, and she only remained a few hours ; so that my visit to Phyong-yang was agitated by the fear of losing her, and having to make a long land journey when time was precious. There was no Korean post, and the Japanese military post and telegraph of- fice absolutely refused to carry messages or letters for civilians. Wild rumors, of which there were a goodly crop every hour, were the substitute for news.

A subject of special interest and inquiry at Phyong-yang was mission work as carried on by American missionaries. At Seoul it is far more difficult to get into touch with it, as, being older, it has naturally more of religious conventionality. But I will take this opportunity of saying that longer and more in- timate acquaintance only confirmed the high opinion I early formed of the large body of missionaries in Seoul, of their earnestness and devotion to their work, of the energetic, hope- ful, and patient spirit in which it is carried on, of the harmony prevailing among the different denominations, and the cordial and sympathetic feeling towards the Koreans. The interest of many of the missionaries in Korean history, folklore, and cus- toms, as evidenced by the pages of the valuable monthly, the Korean Repository^ is also very admirable, and a traveller in Korea must apply to them for information vainly sought else- where.

Christian missions were unsuccessful in Phyong-yang. It was a very rich and very immoral city. More than once it turned out some of the missionaries, and rejected Christianity with much hostility. Strong antagonism prevailed, the city was thronged with gesang, courtesans, and sorcerers, and was notorious for its wealth and infamy. The Methodist Mission was broken up for a time, and in six years the Presbyterians only numbered 28 converts. Then came the war, the destruc- tion of Phyong-yang, its desertion by its inhabitants, the ruin of its trade, the reduction of its population from 60,000 or 70,000 to 15,000, and the flight of the few Christians.

Since the war there had been a very great change. There had been 28 baptisms, and some of the most notorious evil livers among the middle classes, men shunned by other men for their exceeding wickedness, were leading pure and right- eous lives. There were 140 catechumens under instruction, and subject to a long period of probation before receiving bap- tism, and the temporary church, though enlarged during my absence, was so overcrowded that many of the worshippers were compelled to remain outside. The offertories were liberal.$1$ In the dilapidated extra-mural premises occupied by the missionaries, thirty men were living for twenty-one days, two from each of fifteen villages, all convinced of the truth of Christianity, and earnestly receiving instruction in Christian fact and doctrine. They were studying for six hours daily with teachers, and for a far longer time amongst themselves, and had meetings for prayer, singing, and informal talk each evening. I attended three of these, and as Mr. Moffett inter- preted for me, I was placed in touch with much of what was unusual and interesting, and learned more of missions in their earlier stage than anywhere else.

Besides the thirty men from the villages, the Christians and catechumens from the city crowded the room and doorways. Two missionaries sat on the floor at one end of the room with a kerosene lamp mounted securely on two wooden pillows in front of them — then there were a few candles on the floor, centres of closely-packed groups. Hymns were howled in many keys to familiar tunes, several Koreans prayed, bowing their foreheads to the earth in reverence, after which some gave accounts of how the Gospel reached their villages, chiefly through visits from the few Phyong-yang Christians, who were "scattered abroad," and then two men, who seemed very eloquent as well as fluent, and riveted the attention of all, gave narratives of two other men who they believed were pos- sessed with devils, and said the devils had been driven out a few months previously by united prayer, and that the "foul spirits" were adjured in the name of Jesus to come out, and that the men trembled and turned cold as the devils left them, never to return, and that both became Christians, along with many who saw them.

A good many men came from distant villages one afternoon to ask for Christian teaching, and in the evening one after another got up and told how a refugee from Phyong-yang had come to his village and had told them that they were both wicked and foolish to worship daemons, and that they were wrongdoers, and that there is a Lord of Heaven who judges wrongdoing, but that He is as loving as any father, and that they did not know what to think, but that in some places twenty and more were meeting daily to worship "the High- est," and that many of the women had buried the daemon fetishes, and that they wanted some one to go and teach them how to worship the true God.

A young man told how his father, nearly eighty years old, had met Mr. Moffett by the roadside, and hearing from him "some good things," had gone home saying he had heard "good news," " great news," and had got "the Books," and that he had become a Christian, and lived a good life, and had called his neighbors together to hear "the news," and would not rest till his son had come to be taught in the "good news," and take back a teacher. An elderly man, who had made a good living by sorcery, came and gave Mr. Moffett the instruments of his trade, saying he " had served devils all his life, but now he knew that they were wicked spirits, and he was serving the true God."

On the same afternoon four requests for Christian teaching came to the missionaries, each signed by from fifteen to forty men. At all these evening meetings the room was crammed within and without by men, reverent and earnest in manner, some of whom had been shunned for their wickedness even in a city "the smoke of which" in her pahny days was said "to go up like the smoke of Sodom," but who, transformed by a power outside themselves, were then leading exemplary lives. There were groups in the dark, groups round the candles on the floor, groups in the doorways, and every face was aglow except that of poor, bewildered Im. One old man, with his forehead in the dust, prayed like a child that, as the letter bearing to New York an earnest request for more teachers was on its way, "the wind and sea might waft it favorably," and that when it was read the eyes of the foreigners$^$ might be opened "to see the sore need of people in a land where no one knows anything, and where all believe in devils, and are dying in the dark."

As I looked upon those lighted faces, wearing an expression strongly contrasting with the dull, dazed look of apathy which is characteristic of the Korean, it was impossible not to recog- nize that it was the teaching of the Apostolic doctrines of sin, judgment to come, and divine love which had brought about such results, all the more remarkable because, according to the missionaries, a large majority of those who had renounced daemon worship, and were living in the fear of the true God, had been attracted to Cliristianity in the first instance by the hope of gain ! This, and almost unvarying testimony to the same effect, confirm me in the opinion that when people talk of "nations craving for the Gospel," "stretching out pleading hands for it," or "athirst for God," or "longing for the living waters," they are using words which in that connection have no meaning. That there are "seekers after righteousness" here and there I do not doubt, but I believe that the one "craving" of the far East is for money—that "unrest" is only in the east a synonym for poverty, and that the spiritual instincts have yet to be created.

On the Sunday I went with Dr. Scranton of Seoul to the first regular service ever held for women in Phyong-yang. There were a number present, all daemon-worshippers, some of them attracted by the sight of a "foreign woman." It was impossible to have a formal service with people who had not the most elementary ideas of God, of prayer, of moral evil, and of good. It was not possible to secure their attention. They were destitute of religious ideas. An elderly matron, who acted as a sort of spokeswoman said, "They thought perhaps God is a big daemon, and He might help them to get back their lost goods." That service was "mission work" in its earliest stage.

On returning from a service in the afternoon where there were crowds of bright intelligent-looking worshippers, we came upon one of the most important ceremonies connected with the popular belief in daemons — the exorcism of an evil spirit which was supposed to be the cause of a severe illness. Never by night or day on my two visits to Phyong-yang had I been out of hearing of the roll of the sorcerer's drum, with the loud vibratory clash of cymbals as an intermittent accom- paniment. Such sounds attracted us to the place of exorcism.

In a hovel with an open door a man lay very ill. The space in front was matted and enclosed by low screens, within which were Korean tables loaded with rice cakes, boiled rice, stewed chicken, sprouted beans and other delicacies. In this open space squatted three old women, two of whom beat large drums, shaped like hour-glasses, while the third clashed large cymbals. Facing them was the ;;///-/^;/^ or sorceress, dressed in rose-pink silk, with a buff gauze robe, with its sleeves trail- ing much on the ground, over it. Pieces of paper resembling the Shinto ^^//(?/ decorated her hair, and a curious cap of buff gauze with red patches upon it, completed the not inelegant costume. She carried a fan, but it was only used occasionally in one of the dances. She carried over her left shoulder a stick, painted with bands of bright colors, from which hung a gong which she beat with a similar stick, executing at the same time a slow rhythmic movement accompanied by a chant. From time to time one of the ancient drummers gathered on one plate pieces from all the others and scattered them to the four winds for the spirits to eat, invoking them, saying, "Do not trouble this house any more, and we will again appease you by offerings."

The mu-tang is, of course, according to the belief of those who seek her services, possessed by a powerful daemon, and by means of her incantations might induce this daemon to evict the one which was causing the sickness by aiding her exorcisms, but where the latter is particularly obstinate, she may require larger fees and more offerings in order that she may use incantations for bringing to her aid a yet more power- ful daemon than her own. The exorcism lasted fourteen hours, until four the next morning, when the patient began to recover. A crowd, chiefly composed of women and children, stood round the fence, the children imbibing devilry from their infancy.

I was not at a regular inn in Phyong-yang but at a broker's house, with a yard to myself nominally, but which was by no means private. Im generally, and not roughly, requested the people to "move on," but he made two exceptions, one being in favor of a madwoman of superior appearance and apparel who haunted me on my second visit, hanging about the open front of my room, and following me to the mission-house and elsewhere. She said that I was her grandmother and that she must go with me everywhere, and, like many mad people, she had an important and mysterious communication to make which for obvious reasons never reached me. She was the concubine of a late governor of the city, and not having escaped before its capture, went mad from horror at seeing the Chinese spitted on the bayonets of the Japanese. She carried a long bodkin, and went through distressing pantomimes of running people through with it ! The other exception was in favor of gesang, upon whose presence Im looked quite approvingly, and evidently thought I did.

Phyong-yang has always been famous for the beauty and accomplishments of its gesang, singing and dancing girls, resembling in many respects the geishas of Japan, but correctly speaking they mostly belong to the Government, and are supported by the Korean Treasury. At the time of my two first sojourns in Seoul, about seventy of them were at- tached to the Royal Palace. They were under the control of the same Government department as that with which the official musicians are connected.

As a poor man gifted with many sons, for whom he cannot provide, sometimes presents one to the government as a eunuch, so he may give a girl to be a gesaiig. The gesang are trained from a very early age in such accomplishments as other Korean women lack, and which will ensure their attractiveness, such as playing on various musical instruments, singing, dancing, reading, reciting, writing, and fancy work. As their destiny is to make time pass agreeably for men of the upper classes, this amount of education is essential, though a Korean does not care how blank and undeveloped the mind of his wife is. The gesang are always elegantly dressed, as they were when they came to see me, even through the mud of the Phyong-yang streets, and as they have not known seclusion, their manners with both sexes have a graceful ease. Their dancing, like that of most Oriental countries, consists chiefly of posturing, and is said by those foreigners who have seen it, to be perfectly free from impropriety.

Dr. Allen, Secretary to the U.S. Legation at Seoul, in a paper in the Korean Repository for 1886, describes among the dances which specially interest foreigners at the entertain- ments at the Royal Palace one known as the " Lotus Dance." In this, he writes, "A tub is brought in containing a large lotus flower just ready to burst open. Two imitation storks then come in, each one being a man very cleverly disguised.

These birds flap their wings, snap their beaks, and dance round in admiration of the beautiful bud which they evidently intend to pluck as soon as they have enjoyed it sufficiently in antic- ipation. Their movements all this time are very graceful, and they come closer and closer to the flower keeping time to the soft music. At last the proper time arrives, the flower is plucked, when, as the pink petals fall back, out steps a little gesang to the evident amazement of the birds, and to the in- tense delight of the younger spectators."

The Sword and Dragon dances are also extremely popular, and on great occasions the performance is never complete without "Throwing the Ball," which consists in a series of graceful arm movements before a painted arch, after which the gesang march in procession before the King, and the successful dancers receive presents.

Though the most beautiful and attractive gesang come from Phyong-yang, they are found throughout the country. From the King down to the lowest official who can afford the luxury, the presence of gesang is regarded at every entertainment as indispensable to the enjoyment of the guests. They appear at official dinners at the Foreign Office, and at the palace are the chief entertainers, and sing and dance at the many parties which are given by Koreans at the picnic resorts near Seoul, and though attached to the prefectures, and various other depart- ments, may be hired by gentlemen to give fascination to their feasts.

Their training and non-secluded position place them, how- ever, outside of the reputable classes, and though in Japan geishas often become the wives of nobles and even of statesmen, no Korean man would dream of raising a gesang to such a position.

Dr. Allen, who has had special opportunities of becoming acquainted with the inner social life of Korea, says that they are the source of much heartburning to the legal but neglected wife, who in no case is the wife of her husband's choice, and that Korean folklore abounds with stories of discord arising in families from attachments to gesang, and of ardent and pro- longed devotion on the part of young noblemen to these girls, who they are prevented from marrying by rigid custom. There is a Korean tale called The Swallow King's Rewards in which a man is visited with the "ten plagues of Korea," for maltreating a wounded swallow, and in it gesang are represented along with mu-tang as “among the ten curses of the land."

Dr. Allen, to whom I owe this fact writes, "Doubtless they are so considered by many a lonely wife, as well as by the fathers who mourn to see their sons wasting their substance in riotous living, as they doubtless did themselves when they were young."

The house in which I had quarters was much resorted to by merchants for whom my host transacted brokerage business, and entertainments were the order of the day. Mr. Yi was invited to dinner daily, and on the last evening entertained all who had invited him. Such meals cost per head as much as a dinner at the St. James's restaurant ! Noise seems essential to these gatherings. The men shout at the top of their voices.

There is an enormous amount of visiting and entertaining among men in the cities. Some public men keep open house, giving their servants as much as ^60 a day for the entertain- ment of guests. Men who are in easy circumstances go con- tinually from one house to another to kill time. They never talk politics, it is too dangerous, but retail the latest gossip of the court or city and the witticisms attributed to great men, and tell, hear, and invent news. The front rooms of houses in which the men live are open freely to all comers. In some circles, though it is said to a far less extent than formerly, men meet and talk over what we should call "questions of literary criticism," compare poetic compositions, the ability to compose a page of poetry being the grand result of Korean education, and discuss the meaning of celebrated works—all literature being in Chinese. The common people meet in the streets, the house fronts, and the inns. They ask each other endless questions, of a nature that we should think most impertinent, regarding each other's business, work, and money transactions, and for the latest news. It is every man's business to hear or create all the news he can. What he hears he embellishes by lies and exaggera- tions, Korea is the country of wild rumors. What a Korean knows, or rather hears, he tells. According to Pere Dallet, he does not know the meaning of reserve, though he is utterly devoid of frankness. Men live in company in each others' houses. Domestic life is unknown. The women in the inner rooms receive female visitors, and the girl children are present. The boys at a very early age are removed to the men's apartments, where they learn from the conversation they hear that every man who respects himself must regard women with con- tempt.

We left Phyong-yang for Po-san in a very small boat in which six people and their luggage were uncomfortably packed and cramped. One of the two boatmen was literally "down with fever," but with one and the strong ebb-tide we accom- plished 20 miles in six hours, and were well pleased to find the Hariong lying at anchor, as we had not been able to get any definite information concerning her, and I never believed in her till I saw her. The Tai-dong has some historic interest, for up its broad waters sailed Ki-ja or Kit-ze with his army of 5,000 men on the way to found Phyong-yang and Korean civi- lization, and down it fled Ki-jun, the last king of the first dy- nasty from the forces of Wei-man descending from the north. Phyong-yang impressed me as it did Consul Carles with its natural suitability for commerce, and this Tai-dong, navigable up to the city for small junks, is the natural outlet for beans and cotton, some of which find their way to Newchwang for shipment, for the rich iron ore which lies close to the river banks at Kai Chhon, for the gold of Keum-san only 20 miles off, for the abounding coal of the immediate neighborhood ; for the hides, which are now carried on men's backs to Che- mulpo, and for the products of what is said to be a consider- able silk industry.

In going down the river something is seen of the original size of Phyong-yang, for the "earth wall" on solid masonry, built, it is said, by Kit-ze 3,000 years ago, follows the right bank of the Tai-dong for about four miles before it turns away to the north, to terminate at the foot of the hill on which is the reputed grave of its builder. This extends in that direction possibly three miles beyond the present wall.

The plain through which the river runs is fertile and well cultivated, though the shining mud flats at low tide are any- thing but prepossessing. Various rivers, enabling boats of light draught to penetrate the country, most of them rising in the pic- turesque mountain ranges which descend on the plain, specially on its western side, join the Tai-dong.

Much had been said of the Hariong. I was told I "should be all right if I could get the Hariong," that "the Hariong's a most comfortable little boat—she has ten staterooms," and as we approached her in the mist, very wet, and stiff from the length of time spent in a cramped position, I conjured up visions of comfort and even luxury which were not to be realized.

She was surrounded by Japanese junks, Japanese soldiers crowded her gangways, and Japanese officers were directing the loading. We hooked on to the junks and lay in the rain for an hour, nobody taking the slightest notice of us. Mr. Yi then scrambled on board and there was another half-hour's de- lay, which took us into the early darkness. He reappeared, saying there was no cabin and we must go on shore. But there was no place to sleep on shore and it was the last steamer, so I climbed on board and Im hurried in the baggage. It was rain- ing and blowing, and we were huddled on the wet deck like steerage passengers, Japanese soldiers and commissariat officers there as elsewhere in Korea, masters of the situation. Mr. Yi was frantic that he, a Government official, and one from whom " the Japanese had to ask a hundred favors a month " should be treated with such indignity ! The vessel was hired by the Japanese commissariat department to go to Nagasaki, calling at Chemulpo, and we were really, though unintention- ally, interlopers !

There was truly no room for me, and the arrangement whereby I received shelter was essentially Japanese. I lived in a minute saloon with the commissariat officers, and fed pre- cariously, Im dealing out to me, at long intervals, the remains of a curry which he had had the forethought to bring. There was a Korean purser, but the poor dazed fellow was "no- where," being totally superseded by a brisk young manikin who, in the intervals of business, came to me, notebook in hand, that I might help him to enlarge his English vocabulary. The only sign of vitality that the limp, displaced purser showed was to exclaim with energy more than once, "I hate these Japanese, they've taken our own ships."

Fortunately the sea was quite still, and the weather was dry and fine ; even Yon-yung Pa-da, a disagreeable stretch of ocean off the Whang Hai coast, was quiet, the halt of nearly a day off the new treaty port of Chin-nam-po where the mud flats extend far out from the shore, was not disagreeable, and we reached the familiar harbor of Chemulpo by a glorious sun- set on the frosty evening of the third day from Po-san, the voyage in a small Asiatic transport having turned out better than could have been expected.

ITINERARY

Seoul to                          Li.

Ko-yang 			40

Pa Ju 			40

0-mok 			40

Ohur-chuk Kio 		30

Song-do 			10

0-hung-suk Ju 		30

Kun-ko Kai 		30

Tol Maru 35

An-shung-pa Pal 25

Shur-hung 30

Hung-shou Wan 30

Pong-san 40

Whang Ju 40

Kur-moun Tari       30

Chi-dol-pa Pal   40

Phyong yang 30

Mori-ko Kai  30

Liang-yang Chang  30

Cha-san 		30

Shou-yang Yi 	40

Ha-kai Oil 	35

Ka Chang     	35

Hu-ok Kuri 	40

Tok Chhon    	30

Shur-chong 	30

An-kil Yung 	20

Shil-yi 		40

Mou-chin Tai 	25

Sun Chhon 	35

Cha-san 		30

Siang-yang Chhon 40

An-chin Miriok 	30

Phyong-yang 	20

Total land  journey. . . . .      1060

$1$The Seoul  Christian  Nexvs,  a  paper  recently  started,  gave  its  readers an account  of  the  Indian  famine,  with  the  result  that  the  Christians  in  the magistracy of  Chang-yang  raised  among  themselves  ^84  for  the  sufferers in a  land  they  had  hardly  heard  of,  some  of  the  women  sending  their  solid silver rings  to  he  turned  into  cash. In Seoul  the  native  Presbyterian churches gave  ^60  to  the  same  fund,  of  which  ^20  were  collected  by  a new  congregation  organized  entirely  by  Koreans. I am  under  the  im- pression that the  liberality  of  the  Korean  Christians  in  proportion  to  their means far  exceeds  our  own.

$^$The American  Presbyterian  Board  of  Foreign  Missions.