An Audience at the Palace--Dancing Girls--Entertainment Given
after the Audience--Printing the Dictionary and Grammar--A
Korean in Japan--Fasting to Feast--Death of Mr. Davies--Dr.
Heron’s Sickness--Mrs. Heron’s Midnight Ride--Dr. Heron’s
Death--Difficulty in Getting a Cemetery Concession--Forced
Return to America--Compensations--Chemulpo in Summer--The “Term
Question” in China, Korea and Japan--Difficulties in the Work.
Early in the fall of 1889 I was invited to another audience at the
palace, with some of the foreign state officials and their wives.
After the audience a dinner was served, and later, a performance by
dancing girls was given. And right here I must say, that although on
several occasions at the palace I have seen dancing girls in these
entertainments, I have never beheld anything at such times in their
actions that was improper or even undignified. Their motions are
graceful, usually slow, circling around hand in hand or in various
combinations of pretty figures. They wear high-necked and long-sleeved
jackets or coats, and long skirts, the figure quite concealed by the
fashion of the dress. And yet, thus to appear in public, allowing their
faces to be seen by strangers, is the gravest breach of propriety in
the eyes of all Koreans, and these girls are, alas! as depraved as
women can be. Like those of their class in all countries, they are the
most pitiable and hopeless of women, but unlike those who have thrown
themselves away, they deserve small blame mixed with the compassion one
feels for them, for these poor girls have been sold by their parents
into their awful lives, and were given no choice of their destiny. Many
a poor little Korean child is sold into slavery for a few bags of rice,
to be trained as a dancing girl, used as a common drudge, or married to
a man she has never seen, while she is hardly larger than our little
ones playing with their dolls in the nursery.
But to return to our palace entertainment, from which I have made a
rather long digression. The guests were seated on the veranda, or
“maru,” in front of the dining hall, and in the grounds before us
appeared a pretty boat with wide spread sails, in which were seated
some gaily dressed girls. Others now appeared, dancing to slow native
music, a stately figure, almost in minuet fashion, with waving of
flowing sleeves and banners. They were evidently the spirits of the
wind, and the boat was waiting the favoring breeze. The music grew
quicker, while faster and faster stepped the dancers, more and more
swiftly fanning the sails with sleeves, skirts and scarfs, till at last
the boat slowly moved forward, and with its attendants moved out of
sight. When the boat had been thus gracefully fanned away, a couple of
mammoth lotus plants were brought out, with great closed blossoms seen
among the leaves.
Following them came a pair of gigantic storks, extremely well
simulated. The birds came forward slowly, advancing, retreating,
sideling, mincing, waiving their heads and long bills about, all in
tune to the music, wavering and uncertain, yet evidently with some
definite, not to be resisted, purpose in mind. At length, after long
hesitation, one of them plucked up courage and gave a vigorous peck
at a lotus bud, which forthwith burst open and released a pretty
little child, who had been curled up at its heart. The other stork,
with similar good fortune, discovered another little one. I was much
interested to find this stork and baby myth here in Korea, centuries
old; but those hoary nations of the East are ever reaching down into
the apparently limitless depths of their remote past, and dragging
forth some fresh surprise whereby to convince us there is nothing new
under the sun.
Late in November of the same year we went to Japan to publish Mr.
Underwood’s grammar and dictionary, as there were no means of printing
such books in Seoul. In Japan we were forced to wait while type was
made, and during this delay Mr. Underwood perfected the grammar, adding
what is now the first part. A Korean teacher or scholar accompanied us,
but great was his distaste for Japan and all her ways, and herculean
our toils and efforts, as each steamer sailed to prevent his returning
to Korea.
Rice is the staple article of food in China, Korea and Japan, but it
is cooked and eaten differently in all three countries, and no one
of either will, except under dire necessity, eat the rice prepared
by one of the other nationalities. Our literary assistant was of the
_Yangban_, or noble class, he had never soiled his hands in labor, or
cooked anything for himself, but after enduring a Japanese hotel with
many and doleful complaints for a very short time, he begged us to
find him a room and let him keep house for himself. That a _Yangban_
should make a proposition like this showed to what straits he had been
brought, so we at once complied with his request, and from that time on
he prepared his rice with his own gentlemanly hands. He was a Chinese
scholar of fine attainments, and his learning was much respected in
high Japanese circles. He was often invited out, and was distinguished
by an invitation to the house of the governor of the city.
Now, when Koreans attend a feast, they expect to finish an incredible
amount of food on the spot (nor is it altogether unusual, in addition,
to carry away as much in their sleeves and hands as strength will
permit). Sometimes they fast for several days previous in order to
do full justice to the entertainment, and generally, I believe,
quantity is considered of far more import than quality. Not so with
the Japanese, among whom our teacher visited. If his word was to be
believed, they had developed the æsthetic idea quite to the other
extreme, and provided a few tiny cups and dishes of supposedly delicate
and rare viands for their guests. So on this occasion to which I refer,
it was almost pathetic, the poor Korean fasting to feast, with visions
of quarts of rice and vermicelli soup, pounds of hot rice bread, nuts,
fruits, fresh, dried and candied; meats with plenty of hot sauce,
“_kimchi_,” or sauerkraut, etc., etc. Alack the day! A few microscopic
cups of tea, a few tiny dishes of articles which knew not Korea (among
them no doubt raw fish), and for the rest, a feast of reason and
flow of soul. Next day, a wiser and a thinner man, he sadly told Mr.
Underwood that he now understood why Japanese prospered, while Koreans
grew poor. “Koreans,” said he, “earn a hundred cash a day and eat a
thousand cash worth, while Japanese, on the contrary, earn a thousand
cash a day and eat a hundred cash worth.” Never were truer words
spoken, with regard to the Japanese at least. If these people have a
virtue, which their worst enemies cannot gainsay, it is their industry
and thrift.
Just what is the ordinary number of slight earthquakes in Japan per
month or year, I do not know, but during the six months of our stay
they averaged one every three days. During one twenty-four hours of
our experience there were eleven. They were not, of course, severe,
but sufficient to swing doors, set chandeliers clattering and rocking
chairs in motion,, and to convince me more than once that the house was
on the point of tumbling about our ears.
Just before we returned to Korea we were shocked to hear of the sudden
death by smallpox of Rev. Mr. Davies, a brother greatly beloved in the
Lord, who had arrived early the previous summer and had made phenomenal
progress in the language, whose gifts and learning were unusual, but
were all excelled by his spirituality and consecration. His zeal never
permitted him to spare himself in the least. He seemed to link himself
at once, heart to heart, with Mr. Underwood, and together they planned,
studied, worked and prayed for the salvation of the people. It was as
if death had entered our own family when news came of his loss, and a
black pall seemed to lie across our path. We knew God does all things
well, and his ways are not our ways, nor his thoughts ours, and yet in
the weakness of the flesh, which cannot see, with all those unsaved
millions dying around us, we felt we could not spare Mr. Davies, and to
us, to whom he had been confidant, sympathizer, counselor and friend,
the personal loss was bitter. But we have learned that often when we
think, or come in any way to feel that his cause depends on a man, God
removes him, to teach us that his cause depends on no man, that he can
bless the efforts of the weakest and poorest and feed five thousand
from the basket of a little boy.
On April 26, 1890, the books were finished, and we started at once for
Korea, reaching here in May. Soon after our return from Japan we were
visited by Dr. and Mrs. Nevius. We all recognized Dr. Nevius as a king
among men, with a mind so clear and broad, a spirit so genial, a heart
so full of charity and with a record of such long years of faithful
labor that we were glad to sit at his feet. The sense of ignorance,
incompetence, inexperience, combined with a realization of awful
responsibility, is almost overwhelming to the young missionary on a new
field, and it is only by constantly leaning on the almighty arm that he
is kept from despondence and despair. At such times the advice of such
an elder brother is invaluable.
The little missions had by this time been reinforced by several
arrivals, and the following summer, which was very warm, many of them
went to Namhan (Southern fortress) to spend the hot months. Seoul
lies in a basin, encircled by mountains, and is extremely unhealthy
in summer, its festering pools and ditches overflowing with filth,
steaming a very witches brew of evils upon the sickened air, with
odors unspeakable and undreamed of in civilized lands. Namhan is about
seventeen miles distant from Seoul, on top of a mountain, not quite
two thousand feet high. It lies on the further side of the Han River,
but is fairly easy of access, reached by a steep road winding up the
mountain.
Dr. Heron had taken his family there, and frequently traveled back
and forth to his duties in Seoul, which was doubtless too much for
his strength in those hot and humid days. He was soon attacked by
dysentery, which did not at first seem serious, and was consequently
ignored too long. It finally developed into the most malignant form
of the disease, which resisted every effort of the physicians, Drs.
Scranton and MacGill, who were unremitting in the struggle in which
they were steadily worsted. As soon as the symptoms began to look grave
Mrs. Heron was sent for. In great distress and alarm, she set off that
very evening, in a terrible storm of rain and wind, a very carnival, no
torch or lantern could be kept alive, the wind howling around the frail
chair as if to tear it from its bearers’ hands. The roads, steep
and difficult in pleasant weather, were really dangerous when slippery
with mud and water, in darkness so absolute that not one step in
advance could be seen, while in the woods and valleys the coolies were
sometimes up to their waists in water. Drenched to the skin, this poor
afflicted young wife arrived at her home near morning, after traveling
all night in this terrible storm, to find her husband fatally ill.
After a little more than three weeks’ sickness and great suffering,
Dr. Heron passed away, to the grief and loss of the whole foreign
community, as well as that of the Koreans (and they were many) with
whom he had come in contact, to all of whom he had endeared himself by
untiring kindness.
[Illustration: GATE IN THE WALL OF NAMHAN. PAGE 98]
The government had never set aside any land for a foreign cemetery near
Seoul, although in accordance with the treaty they should have done so
long before. A strong superstition and very rigid law forbid the burial
of the dead within the city walls, and hitherto the few Europeans
who had died had been buried in the cemetery near Chemulpo. But to
carry remains thirty miles in the heat of July, to the port, with no
conveyances but chairs, to be forced to bury our dead so far away,
was unnecessary, inconvenient and expensive, as well as an additional
trial to hearts already sore. As soon, therefore, as Dr. Heron’s death
seemed inevitable, a request was made that the government would set
apart a place near the city for this purpose. This, with characteristic
procrastination, they failed to do.
On the day of Dr. Heron’s death they offered a place which we found
altogether impossible, beyond the sand beds across the river, a
long distance off, in very low ground. It was then decided that as
something immediate must be done, we would make a temporary resting
place on a piece of ground belonging to our mission, where there was
a small house, occupied just then by Mr. Underwood’s and Dr. Heron’s
literary helpers. As soon as they heard of this plan they objected
most strongly, saying it was against the law, and as the body must be
carried through the streets to reach there, there would probably be a
good deal of excitement and trouble.
We then ordered the grave dug on Dr. Heron’s compound, back of his
house, sending word to the Foreign Office that as they had provided no
other place, we were forced temporarily at least to make this disposal
of the remains. The time for the funeral was set for three o’clock, and
about a half hour before the literary helpers again came to us in a
state of the wildest excitement and terror, tearing their hair, weeping
and trembling. They averred that the people in that quarter were
planning to mob us all, to burn down their house, beat and kill them,
and very likely kill us too, if the body was buried within the walls.
It seemed cruel that no place could be found where we could lay our
dead. Our hearts were torn with grief for the poor burdened sister,
who ought to have been able to claim a quiet and decent burial for
her dear one’s remains, as well as the sympathy of every one, that
she must be refused a place for his repose, and assailed by all this
wrangling and confusion. We were hotly indignant with the teachers, who
we thought ought to have risen above heathen superstition on their own
part and kept the secret from the people. It was now uncertain where
Dr. Heron’s remains could be laid, and they were therefore embalmed and
hermetically sealed. The Foreign Office, however, on hearing that it
was our intention to bury on the compound, at once came to terms and
gave us a large field on a fine bluff overlooking the river, about five
miles from Seoul. This was obtained through the indefatigable efforts
of Dr. Allen of the United States legation, who besieged the foreign
office and insisted on this concession.
During all these months the work was steadily going forward; more
than we had dared to hope were added to the number of believers
and inquirers; a Bible translating committee, of which Dr. W. B.
Scranton of the M. E. Mission and Mr. Underwood were members, had been
appointed; a girls’ school in each of the two missions had been started
long before, and both were steadily growing (though the Methodists
were far in advance here), the boys’ orphanage had been changed to
a boys’ school, and hospital and dispensary work in both missions
was flourishing; with an increase of confidence of the people in our
friendship and trustworthiness.
In the early fall a new member of the mission appeared in our family,
making life richer, in a measure absurdly disproportionate to his
dimensions and weight. Some months after this, sickness, growing more
and more threatening and intractable, followed, until the doctors’
verdict was that a return to America was the only condition, and (that
a doubtful one) on which life could be saved. The kindness and goodness
of the whole community shown to me were beyond expression. Here in the
East, where the ordinary conveniences of large cities are not to be had
for money, where we are very dependent on each other’s kind offices,
mutual love and service draw and bind us very closely together.
I was nursed, and friends and neighbors helped my husband pack away
our goods, for a year’s absence means that everything must be nailed
or locked or sealed up from mildew, moth, rust, rats and robbers.
Furniture must be compactly stowed away so that the house may be
occupied by other homeless missionaries waiting for an appropriation
for a house. They sewed for baby and me, and spared neither pains nor
trouble to help us. Two of the ladies, Mrs. Bunker and Miss Rothweiler,
went with us to Chemulpo, a journey which I made, carried by six
coolies to ensure steadiness, on a long steamer chair, stopping over
night, half way, at a primitive Japanese hotel.
I can never tell with what regret, shame and pain I left Korea. I had
looked forward with pleasure to a return after a long period of years,
when the work had been well begun and the appointed time had come,
when something had been accomplished, but to go _now_, a _failure_, to
leave my work scarcely begun, perhaps never to return, was bitter. But
more bitter still was the thought that I was dragging my husband, in
the freshness of his health and vigor, back from a life of usefulness,
where workers were pitiably few and calls for help from all sides were
many and loud. Christian tracts and hymn books were needed, the Bible,
as yet not translated, the dictionary not half finished, schools to
be established, a fast growing band of Christians to be nourished and
taught, and when I thought of it all, it looked dark.
But God brought a blessing out of it, as he always does from every
seeming misfortune, for through that return to America several
missionaries were obtained, a new mission established and greater
interest in Korea aroused in the minds of American, Canadian and
English Christians.
“Man’s weakness waiting upon God its end can never miss,
For man on earth no work can do more angel-like than this.
He always wins who sides with God--to him no chance is lost;
God’s will is sweetest to him when it triumphs at his cost.
Ill that he blesses is our good, and unblest good is ill,
And all is right that seems most wrong, if it be His sweet will.”
On our return to Korea most of the summer was spent at Chemulpo, as
our baby was very sick. We stopped in a so-called “hotel,” kept by
Chinamen. The long hot nights were rendered almost intolerable by the
noise and odors of such a place. From early in the evening till past
midnight we were tortured by the high falsetto singing of the actors
in a Chinese theatre across the street. The sailors returning to the
gunboats in the bay kept the dogs in fits of frenzied barking, which
would have effectually murdered sleep had it ever ventured near. By the
time the dogs had begun to regain their composure, the Japanese venders
of vegetables, fish, etc., with a devotion to business which under any
circumstances ought to have won high praise, began with loud strident
voices to call their wares under my window until it was time to rise
and face a new day.
All day I brooded over my starving little son with an aching heart,
looking out across the long reaches of dreary mud flats to the sea,
watching for the steamer that was bringing the only food that he could
digest, and prayed it might not come too late. Day by day the little
life trembled in the balance, but at last the ship came in, and never
was argosy from the Indies laden with gems and treasures untold half so
welcome. Never could ship come to me with half so precious a cargo as
that which brought my baby strength and life.
In the meanwhile Mr. Underwood toiled in the city, overseeing the
repairs on our house, for we must be builders, contractors, carpenters,
gardeners and jack of all trades, and throughout the summer working
unremittingly on a hymn book which the little church now greatly needed.
The “term question” is a vexed problem which as yet has failed to find
a solution that secures the assent of all missionaries. This question
relates to the proper word to be used for God. China, Japan and Korea
alike use the Chinese characters and have words which mean “gods,” or
things worshiped, but they do not have either a definite article or
capitals, such as those by which in English we can change “gods” into
“the God” or “God.” They also have _names_ (quite a different matter)
signifying the chief god of heaven (Sangchai or Hannanim), the god of
earth (Tangnim) and others.
Some missionaries hold that by using this name of the chief god of
heaven and explaining it by instructing the people in the character and
attributes of him whom they ignorantly worship, they will more easily
understand and more readily accept our teaching. Many also believe that
the name really refers to the great God of heaven, although of course
it is impossible to claim that it refers to the one only God, since all
the heathen who worship this one also worship countless other smaller
deities.
On the other hand are those who conscientiously believe that the
personal name of a heathen deity should not in any way be applied to
the Eternal Jehovah, that such a course is in direct conflict with
God’s own word. Then aside from their convictions on this matter they
believe that the use of a heathen cognomen of one of these gods, be
he of heaven or earth, applied to the great “I am” may, in addition
to being forbidden, lead to dangerous mistakes in the minds of the
members of the infant native church. They believe, in short, that a
false thing can never be right, and that to address Jehovah by a name
not his, but another’s, cannot be right or result well in the end. This
view has been adopted by missionaries of all creeds in Japan, a large
minority of Protestants, and all Romanists in China, and by all the
Episcopalians and Romanists in Korea. They use the name Jehovah for
God.
[Illustration: HOUSE USED BY MISSIONARIES ON TOP OF NAMHAN. PAGE 98]
Almost the entire body of the Presbyterian and Methodist missionaries
in Korea, and a majority of them in China, belong to the other party,
although quite essentially different words are used by the Chinese
missionaries from those used in Korea. The Chinese use Sangchai; the
Koreans, Hannanim.
It is with no controversial intent that this matter is referred to
here. It is indeed a vexed question, but one whose satisfactory
settlement is to be devoutly hoped for. No little feeling has been
awakened, because it is a question which has involved in the minds of
many some very deep principles.
The only reason for referring to this matter is that men and women in
Christian lands may gain a little glimpse of some of the difficult and
perplexing problems which confront the workers in some of the mission
fields. These problems vary in different countries, but they all have
their difficulties.
Immediately after our return Mr. James Gale’s Grammatical Forms was
published, and about a year later his Korean-English dictionary, so
that the mission was now supplied with several language helps. Much
stress had been laid from the first upon securing a thorough mastery
of Korean, and each missionary was required to pass three very rigid
annual examinations. A course of study for first, second and third
grades was made out for each year, to assist students, and members of
the examination committee and others were appointed to oversee and aid
the language study of the newcomers.