Korea (Hamilton)/Chapter 23

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

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

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

Large numbers of the pack ponies of Korea come from Quelpart. They are diminutive in size, little larger than the Shetland breed, and rather smaller than the Welsh pony. They are usually stallions, given to fighting and kicking amongst themselves, and reputed savage. Their wildness is aggravated through a daily irritation by the rough surfaces of their pack saddles of the inflamed swellings on their backs. They endure longer marches and shorter food allowances than almost any other species of horse; they are quick in their gait, very strong, and willing, good feeders, and reveal extraordinary obstinacy, tenacity, and patience. Much of the pleasure in my travels in Korea, however, was entirely spoilt by the abominable neglect with which the native grooms treated their charges. Their dreadful condition goaded one to fury, and almost daily I remonstrated with one or other of the grooms for gross cruelty. My remarks had not the smallest effect, however, save that they wore me out, ​and in the end I abandoned my expeditions to avoid the horrors of such spectacles. The Korean is quite callous to the sufferings of his animals. He will feed them well, and he will willingly disturb himself at night to prepare their food; but he will not allow ulcerated and running wounds to interfere with the daily work of the poor beasts. This is comprehensible; but he will not, upon his own initiative, even endeavour to bridge the sore by the tricky placing of a pad. However bad the gathering may be, on goes the load, the agony of the poor pony manifesting itself in a flourish of kicks, bites, and squeals.

In demonstration of this extreme callousness I may mention this incident. Once, outside Won-san, I saw a Korean seat himself upon the side of a stone, and leisurely proceed to rain blows upon the head of a dog which he was holding, until the poor thing collapsed insensible. He then beat it about the ribs, and put the body on the embers of a fire. We were several hundred yards off when this attracted my notice; but I chased the brute across two paddy stretches, until the heavy going compelled me to abandon it. At a later time I noticed that the grooms were most careful to dress the backs of the horses at our different halts, and also to endeavour to prevent the pack saddles from rubbing the wounds, prompted, I have no doubt, to this most desirable kindliness by the lesson which they had read between the lines upon the occasion of the dog incident.

The character of the native followers who accompany these journeys is a matter of great importance to the future welfare of the traveller. The proprietor of the Station Hotel, Seoul, secured me an excellent boy. Shortly after entering my service, an American missionary, who had been ​hankering after the lad for some time before he was brought to me, suborned him. He deserted me upon the eve of my second expedition. This trick is seldom perpetrated east of Suez between Europeans with native servants; it is one of the few unwritten laws of the East and observed everywhere. I reported the matter to the American Minister, Dr. Allen, but the missionary kept the boy. Servants, grooms, and a coolie of a sort, are all necessary upon these expeditions; one groom to each horse is a wise allowance. Koreans like to send three horses to two men; however, my division is the better. Europeans require a body-servant, who will look after the personal effects of his master, and wait at table. An interpreter, who can speak Chinese and some European language, either German, French, or English, is invaluable. It is safer in each case to take men who are not converts. A coolie is useful and gives a little variety to the beasts of burden; he carries the camera, water-bottles, and small impedimenta of the hour. A chef is not really necessary—my interpreter voluntarily served as cook. The interpreter in any journey inland should be mounted; it saves considerable friction if the personal servants be allowed to ride on the baggage ponies. Interpreters receive from thirty to forty dollars a month; personal servants from eight to twenty dollars a month; coolies from eight to ten dollars a month. The hire for the horses, with whom the grooms are included, is a dollar a day, half the amount paid down in advance upon the day of starting. All calculations are made in Korean currency. The entire staff, except the horses and grooms, is fed by the traveller. The interpreter takes charge of the accounts. He will, if ordered, take down the Chinese and Korean names of the villages, streams, lakes, valleys, plains, mountains and ​roads which are passed. This is useful; the map of Korea is most hopelessly out of date, and by forwarding these names to the Geographical Society some little good is accomplished. The interpreter will pay the coolies, grooms, and other servants in debased currency, and charge the account in Mexican dollars, making a profit of seventy-five per cent.; he is greedy and tenacious to the interests of his pocket, and he will suggest that he requires a servant. For this remark he should be flogged. He will muddle his accounts whenever he can; he will lose receipts if he can find no other way of squeezing. He is apparently an innocent, transparently honest, and devoted to the principles of sobriety and virtue—unless there is an opportunity to go the usual path. Under every condition he should be watched.

The Korean does not approach the Chinaman as a body-servant; he has neither initiative nor the capacity for the work, while he combines intemperance, immorality, and laziness in varying degrees. The master usually ends by waiting upon his man. There is, however, an antidote for this state of things. If sufficient point be put into the argument, and the demonstration be further enforced by an occasional kick, as circumstances may require, it is possible to convert a first-class, sun-loving wastrel into a willing, if unintelligent, servant. Under any conditions, his dishonesty will be incorrigible.

It is never necessary to take any large stock of provisions when travelling in Korea. Eggs, fowl, fresh fish, fruit, matches, tobacco, vegetables, and crushed rice flour can be procured at any village in large quantities. The inhabitants will perhaps declare that there are no such things in the village; that they are miserably poor. The village usually bears the stamp of its condition pretty plainly, and I found ​that where this occurred the most effectual remedy was to call up the oldest man visible, to offer him a cigarette, to calm him down, and then to give the interpreter some money and to send off the pair of them. Once this system failed in a flea-infested hole on the west coast, where the village inn had no stables, and I really thought there were no fowls; of a sudden, as though satirising the expression of regret of several villagers, two fowls fluttered over a wall into the road. The meeting broke up in confusion. The grooms, the servants and the interpreter at once tackled the mob, laying about them with their whips; little damage was done, but considerable commotion ensued, and stables, fowls and eggs were at once forthcoming and as promptly paid for. In regard to payments made to the villagers, it is as well to make certain that the grooms pay for the horses' accommodation; if they can avoid it they will do so, and a memory of this lingering in the mind of the inn-keeper, makes him shut his doors when the next foreigner is passing. But, in a general way, if everything is paid for, anything is procurable—even crockery and charcoal stoves, at a pinch, when the difficulties of the precipitous track have played unusual havoc in the china basket.

In the routine of the march, it is pleasant to camp beyond the village for the noonday halt; near the river, if the weather permits bathing. The food can be prepared in the sunlight under some trees. This picnic halt gives an agreeable change from the native inn, over which the missionaries wail perpetually; it is, indeed, always to be avoided. I was several times in Korean inns, driven in by some sudden and temporary downpour, which cut off my retreat. The evening camp made me independent of them in general; every evening the interpreter found the cleanest-looking private ​house and bargained with its proprietor to let two rooms for the time of my visit. The arrangement was never refused, nor was I ever subjected to rudeness or to any insult upon these occasions. The family would freely help my servants, and when the grooms had removed themselves and their horses to the inn stables, no one was disturbed. The boy prepared breakfast in the morning. The space allotted to us was always ample for my camp-bed, kit, and mosquito curtains. It opened, as a rule, upon the courtyard, around which the house is built. There was plenty of air, as one side was open; the flooring was of thick timbers, raised from the ground. If the weather proved inclement the place afforded warmth and shelter. Moreover, this system has much to commend it on the score of cleanliness; the price paid by me, half a dollar, for the rooms was of course usually double the price which had been arranged. Occasionally while travelling, when these private houses were unprocurable, other makeshifts had to be adopted, an open encampment or the official quarters at the Yamen. This latter place was inconvenient, and we always accepted anything of a private nature rather than venture into the Yamen or the inn. Many nights were passed upon the verandahs of these houses, with a private room leading from it at the back, in case it became necessary. Our beds were pitched as much in the open as possible, the silent beauty of the night hours quite justifying the measure. Many nights I undressed upon the edge of the street, my camp-bed pitched beneath a verandah, a peaceful and inoffensive crowd of Koreans smoking and watching me a few feet off. I would get into my sleeping-suit, roll into my camp-bed, and close the mosquito curtains, upon which the crowd would quietly disperse. As publicity was unavoidable, and ​it was useless to object, it was easier to accept the situation than to struggle with the curiosity of the spectators.

It is always well to dispense with everything which can be discarded. A camp-bed well off the ground and more strongly made than those of the usual American pattern, is essential; a field kit canvas valise, the Wolseley pattern, containing a pocket at either end, with a cork mattress, is also indispensable. It will carry all personal effects. Flannel shirts, towels, socks and the like, including a book or two, writing materials, mackintosh sheets, mosquito curtains, and insect-powder are all which need to be included. Fresh mint is useful against fleas if thrown about near the sleeping things in little heaps. It is an invaluable remedy and usually effective, though, by the way, I found the fleas and bugs in the houses of New York and Philadelphia infinitely less amenable to such treatment than any I came across in Korea during my stay there. A camera, a colonial saddle, Zeiss glasses, a shot-gun, a sporting-rifle, a revolver, a hunting-knife, and a large vulcanite water-bottle are necessary. A supply of sparklets is to be recommended; these articles, with a coil of rope, balls of string, jam, cocoa, tea, sugar, alcohol, potted meats, tinned fruits, and biscuits, enamelled ware eating and cooking things, with a few toilet accessories, completed my materials. It is good policy to take a small hamper of wines and luxuries, in case the opportunity occurs of extending hospitality to an official or some other travelling European. They are very serviceable among the officials. Native tobacco is light, mild, and easily smokable. I carried a pouch of it invariably. Canvas valises of the service type are better than any kind of a box. With this arrangement there are no corners or sharp edges to hurt ​the horses, and as a load, too, they do not make such hard, unyielding objects against the side of a horse as any leather, tin, or wooden contrivance. My bed and field-kit just balanced upon one pony; my provisions and servants' baggage fitted another. There was one spare pony. The interpreter and myself rode; the servants were mounted upon the baggage animals, the coolie walked.

At one time, when I was travelling with a German friend, our retinue was exceedingly numerous; we each had our personal establishment and a combined staff for the expedition. This, however, is not quite the way to rough it. It was, moreover, comparatively expensive and a bother, inasmuch that so large a cavalcade required no little managing. There was, however, something luxurious and enjoyable in that procession across Korea, although it is not the plan to be adopted in general.

There was little further to be accomplished by me in Korea. My journey overland had taken me from Fusan to Seoul, and again from Seoul to Won-san, my examination of the inland and coast centres of mining and industry was concluded: the beauties of the Diamond Mountains, with their Buddhist monasteries, had been studied. At the end of these labours, I was weary and ill at ease; moreover the time was approaching when my long journey overland from Seoul, the ancient capital of Korea, to Vladivostock, the seat of Russian authority upon the Pacific coast, would have to be begun. The heat in Seoul had been most oppressive, when one day Mr. Gubbins, the British Minister, suggested a short spell of rest and recuperation upon an island a few miles up the Han River. Before nightfall, my staff and I were floating, with the turn of the tide, up the estuary of the river. Sea breezes blew over the mighty ​expanse of the smoothly gliding waters, and the burden of weariness which had been depressing me, lightened under the influence of these gusty winds and the freshening air from the harbour. The change from the hot and stuffy surroundings of the capital, where the crowds had ceased to be attractive and domestic bothers, arising from the preparation for my Vladivostock journey, had begun to jar upon the nerves, was most entrancing. When the moon burst out from behind a blackened canopy of cloud, as we sailed easily against the rapid current of the river, the rugged outline of the cliffs across the waters proved the reality of the transformation. During the small hours of the night I lay awake, playing with the bubbles and froth of the water in sweet contentment. I resolved to dally for a few days upon the small islands in the stream, halting in the heat of the sun and moving forward at night or in the twilight, when sea-birds could be killed for the pot and fish dragged from their cool depths for the breakfast dish. How delightful were the plunges into that swift current; and how often they were taken in the cool shade of some island backwater! Care and anxiety dropped away in those days of idle frolic, giving the mind, worn by the strain of many months of travel and the hardships of two campaigns, opportunity to recover its vigour. Then came some pleasant weeks in the island monastery, where, from a Buddhist haunt, perched high upon a lofty peak on Kang-wha, mile upon mile of smiling scenery lay open to inspection from my chamber window.

The salt water estuary of the Han is tempestuous and deep, given over to much shipping and small craft. The river itself does not begin for twenty miles above the tidewater mouth, the intervening stretch of water belonging ​

​more correctly to the sea. Above Chemulpo, where the full force of the Han current is hardly felt, the velocity of the stream is quite five knots an hour. Where the breadth of the river narrows the rapidity of the flow

increases. At a point, where the river makes a sudden sweep round some overhanging bluffs, which confront each other from opposite banks, the heavy volume of water thus tumbling down becomes a swirling, boisterous mill-race, as it twists and foams through its tortuous channels into another tide-swollen reach. The place of meeting between the sea and the river current shows itself in a line of choppy water, neither rough nor smooth, The water is always bubbling and always breaking at this point, in a manner poetically suggestive of the spirits of the restless deep. The Han river gives access to Seoul. In the days before the railway, the choice of route to the capital lay between ​spending a night aground upon one of the many shifting sand-banks in the river or the risks of a belated journey overland, with pack ponies and the delights of a sand-bath in the Little Sahara. There were many who found the "all land" way preferable to the "land and water system," to which many groundings and much wading reduced the experiment of travelling by junk or steam-launch in those days. Now, however, the iron horse rules the road.