The Mission in 1893--“The Shelter”--Opening of Japanese
War--Seoul Populace Panic Stricken--Dr. and Mrs. Hall in Pyeng
Yang--Heroic Conduct of Native Christians--Condition of Pyeng
Yang after the War--Dr. Hall’s Death--Preaching the Gospel at
the Palace--The Queen Seeks to Strengthen Friendly Relations
with Europeans--Her Majesty’s Generosity--A Little Child at
the Palace--The Slaves of the Ring--A Christmas Tree at the
Palace--The Queen’s Beneficent Plans--The Post Office Emeute of
1884--A Haunted Palace--The Murder of Kim Oh Kiun.
In the fall of 1893 we moved too early into a house recently repaired
and not yet completed, with wet mud walls and no windows fitted in some
of the rooms. It seemed a necessity, but resulted in continued sickness
through the entire winter for the little one and myself, so that I was
largely debarred from the good work going on among the Koreans. Many
of the middle and lower classes were coming into the church, men’s and
women’s meetings were well attended, and even the little boys in the
school seemed full of Christlike zeal, and spent some of their holiday
and play hours in telling the good tidings and distributing tracts. One
of our missionaries, Dr. Moffett, had been appointed to Pyeng Yang,
other appointments of Presbyterians to the same place soon following,
as well as that of Dr. and Mrs. Hall from the Methodist Mission.
On my own part, a little, very interrupted medical work was done, and
women’s meetings were begun and carried on with great difficulty on
account of deficient knowledge of the language, but little by little,
in trying ever so lamely to use what I had, I rapidly gained more and
more, so that I could soon talk and pray with freedom, if not always
with perfect elegance and correctness, and as my chief aim was to be
understood by the Koreans, not to display myself as an accomplished
linguist, I was satisfied and happy when I had proof of this. Other
women by this time were prepared to do this work well, in all three
missions; and our poor native sisters were being reached in various
quarters. I had been invited to the palace several times, my child was
also asked there, and petted and loaded with kindness.
The Bible translating committee had been enlarged and now included Rev.
H. G. Appenzeller (M. E.) and Mr. James S. Gale (Presby.), in addition
to Dr. Scranton and Mr. Underwood. Lesson leaves were prepared for our
Bible classes, and a number of tracts were being translated by various
missionaries. Before our return to America in 1891, and for some years
after, it was the cruel custom among wealthy natives to put servants,
dependents or strangers at once on the street, if afflicted with any
infectious disease, and it was the commonest occurrence to find poor
people lying by the roadside, either exposed to the bitterest blasts
of winter or the blazing heat of midsummer. Sometimes a friend or
relative had erected a rude hut of thatch over the sufferer, sometimes
a whole family together occupied such a hut, the dead and living lying
together. It was our heart’s desire to obtain in some way the means to
buy or build a hospital for such cases. While we were in America small
sums were put at odd times into our hands “for the work,” and as these
sums increased we decided to use the money for this long-cherished
purpose.
Soon after our return, we were able, at a very low price, to buy a
beautiful piece of ground on a breezy hillside, covered with fine
trees and with a good tiled house having six or seven rooms. This
was large enough for our present purpose, and money in hand was not
sufficient to build the sort of hospital of which we dreamed. So we
repaired the old building and added a caretaker’s quarters. We made the
institution undenominational, arranging that any one might place cases
of infectious disease there, which should be attended by any doctor
desired. At the same time a little dispensary, given in memory of her
only son by Mrs. Hugh O’Neil, of New York, was opened not far from the
“Shelter,” as it was called, on the main road to the north. Here, in
addition to medical work in a small way, women’s Bible classes were
held, men’s and women’s evening prayer meetings, and often Sabbath
morning services. July of 1894 saw the beginning of the China-Japan war
in Korea, and the capture of Seoul by the Japanese. We were awakened
one morning by the sound of firing, and soon learned that the palace
was in possession of the Japanese. Excitement rose quite high among
both foreigners and natives.
All the legations ordered up troops from the port where our gunboats
lay, for our protection, although it is difficult to see how, in a
case of serious danger, such small numbers would be of any service.
There were fifty Russians, forty Americans, forty English and nine
German marines. The natives, high and low, were in a state of panic.
The nobility fled from their homes in large numbers and in all sort
of disguises, and sought refuge at the foreign legations, or in the
country; and to the country the common people started _en masse_. Every
shop was closed, the city had the look of a plague-infested place. A
solemn procession of men, women, chairs, pack-ponies, a continuous
throng, in dead silence, with rapid steps, and set, terror-stricken
faces, poured through the main thoroughfares and out of the gates.
Many pathetic little groups were to be seen; little children, whose
parents in wild fear had deserted or lost them in the crowd, trotting
along with tear-stained faces, alone; women with babies on their backs
and babies hanging at their skirts; men carrying all their worldly
goods on their shoulders, here and there coolies with the chair of
some frightened rich man or fine lady, shoving aside the crowd. High
and low, rich and poor, hurrying away from the dreaded Japanese, the
ancient enemy of their nation. How it made one realize the great
multitude of unsaved peoples, pushing its way along the broad road and
through the wide gate that leads to destruction. “And when he beheld
the multitudes he had compassion on them as sheep having no shepherd.”
The servants in every family gave notice; they dared not stay, they
said, since to remain would be to be killed by Chinese or Japanese. We
reminded them that we were neither afraid nor making any preparations
for flight, and at last only persuaded some of them to remain by
promising that we would never go and leave them, which we had fully
decided upon on account of the native Christians.
Some very exciting and trying events had in the meanwhile been taking
place in Pyeng Yang. In the previous May Dr. William James Hall of the
M. E. Mission took his wife and baby to that city to start a station,
and to take up a permanent residence. They were almost mobbed by the
curious throngs, whom they were unable to control. No police could be
obtained from the governor, who in addition, on the second or third day
after their arrival, arrested and threw into jail Dr. Hall’s helper and
the man from whom he had bought his house. This is the approved method
of forcing a man to give up a house or piece of ground to which he
holds a good title, but which Korean officials object, for any reason,
to his keeping.
Dr. Hall had selected this property because it was in a thickly
populated part of the town, where he believed he could do most good,
but he had positively refused to pay a tax, which former owners had
always paid to a certain devil-worship and sorceress house in the
vicinity.
Dr. Moffett’s helper and the former owner of his house were also cast
in jail, and his native Christians cruelly beaten, at the time when
Dr. Hall’s men were seized. It was evident missionaries were not to be
tolerated in Pyeng Yang. One or two other M. E. native Christians were
then also arrested and beaten. Dr. Moffett was in the capital, and the
Halls were quite alone in this large town, among many enemies, several
days’ journey from Seoul and help. The situation was grim. Dr. Hall was
obliged to leave his helpless wife and baby alone in the unprotected
house while he visited the governor, or the Chinese telegraph office
(both long distances away), or in trying to relieve or help the
Christians in the jail.
As soon as his first message arrived in Seoul, a general meeting
of all the missionaries was called at our house for united prayer
for the Halls and our poor tortured native brethren. Dr. Scranton,
Dr. Moffett and Mr. Underwood at once hastened to the American and
English legations, and obtained through them an order from the Foreign
Office to the governor, to release the Christians and pay damages
for the injured property. Although this was wired at once to Pyeng
Yang, the only apparent result was that the natives were more cruelly
beaten and water-carriers forbidden to take water to the Halls, their
house stoned and the walls torn down. The natives bore their cruel
treatment heroically, and refused to give up their faith; they were
then removed to the death cell, and the governor sent them word of his
intention to execute them. Two despatches from Seoul had been received
by the governor, but still no signs of change. In the meanwhile it
was decided that some of the missionaries from Seoul should go to
Dr. Hall’s help. Mr. Moffett claimed the right to go, as his native
Christians were there in trouble, and Mr. McKenzie, from Canada, was
allowed to accompany him, being an unmarried man, although several
others stoutly urged the best reasons why they should go, like boys
begging for a holiday rather than men going to face a very serious and
doubtful situation.
We all feared that Dr. and Mrs. Hall, as well as the Christians’ lives,
would be sacrificed to the malice of the mob and the governor before
sufficient influence could be brought to bear by our legations through
the Foreign Office to save them. By the time the two men from Seoul
had arrived there, however, five days later, the Christians had been
released, after being again badly beaten and stoned. Dr. and Mrs.
Hall for a month following treated patients and preached the Word,
but when war seemed imminent they were ordered back to Seoul, where
they returned, as well as Mr. McKenzie, Dr. Moffett following somewhat
later, having lingered as long as possible to encourage and hearten the
Christians. Pyeng Yang was now in the hands of the Chinese, and Seoul
in those of the Japanese. The summer was a very hot and unhealthy one,
and there was scarce a family among the foreigners where there was not
one or more cases of severe and prostrating sickness. Two little ones
died, and there were long hours of agonized watching, when dear lives
seemed for hours to be slipping over the brink. None of us could leave
the city to seek for purer air or water, no pure milk could be had, and
one poor young father, whose little child was literally starving for
digestible nourishing food, remembering his father’s farm with its good
milk cows, remarked pathetically, “In my father’s house there is food
enough and to spare, while I perish with hunger.”
On the first of October, after the defeat of the Chinese, the
Presbyterian missionaries and Dr. Hall returned to Pyeng Yang to look
after the interests of the stations left so long, in a city which had
passed through such a hard experience.
Pyeng Yang was in a fearfully unhealthy condition. One of the
missionaries wrote, “The decaying bodies of men, horses and cattle were
so numerous, that no matter whatever direction we went we came across
them constantly, so that the atmosphere was foul beyond expression.”
Another wrote, “In one place I counted over twenty bodies, literally
piled one on top of another, lying just as they had been shot down....
In another place, where a body of Manchurian cavalry ran into an ambush
of Japanese infantry, the carnage was frightful, several hundred bodies
of men and horses lying just as they had fallen made _a swath of bodies
nearly a quarter of a mile long and several yards wide_. It was three
weeks after the battle and the bodies were all there unmolested.”
According to a native superstition that the city is a boat, and to
dig wells would sink the boat, there were no wells in Pyeng Yang; but
a large number of bodies of men and horses were lying in the river,
polluting for weeks the only water supply. In this dreadful situation
our brave missionaries remained and worked, and on October 17th Dr.
Hall wrote the following cheerful words, “We have very interesting
services, the hymns of praise that less than a year ago brought cursing
and stones are now listened to with delight, and carry with them a
feeling of security similar to the sound of a policeman’s whistle in
New York. Comparatively few of the Koreans have returned to their
homes, but every day brings fresh additions. Every day numbers of those
who have returned and those from the surrounding villages and towns
visit us. They buy our books and seem far more interested in the gospel
than I have ever seen them before.”
[Illustration: DESERTED ROYAL DINING HALL. PAGE 121]
Very soon after writing these words Dr. Hall returned to Seoul;
the boat on which he came was full of sick Japanese soldiers.
There were cases of typhus fever and army dysentery, the water was
doubtless poisoned, and he reached Seoul, after numerous most trying
vicissitudes, fatally ill with typhus fever. Quite early, articulation
became very difficult, but every halting sentence spoke of perfect
peace and joy, and almost his last words were, “I’m sweeping through
the gates.” Tears dim my eyes while I write, for we all not only loved,
but reverenced Dr. Hall, and we felt that he possessed a larger share
of the Master’s spirit than most of us. His very entrance into a room
seemed to bring the Lord nearer, and his looks, words and conduct
unexceptionally revealed the power and beauty of Christ. No one ever
heard Dr. Hall speak a harsh or bitter word, no one ever heard him
criticise a brother Christian, no one, to the best of my information,
ever knew of him anything that was not noble, true, faithful and
Christlike. His face beamed with a celestial light, and without his
ever assuming to be in any way better than others, we all felt he was a
holy man. Europeans and natives alike testified to the same impressions
of him, the same love for him, his sweet spirit drew all hearts to him,
so that he was both universally loved and honored.
While we who were in Seoul had all suffered more or less from ill
health, everything was quiet and orderly, and the Japanese deserve
great credit for the fine discipline of the army, and the good order
and comfort of natives and foreigners in a city entirely at the mercy
of the victorious troops of an Eastern nation.
During the fall and winter of ’94 and spring of ’95 the queen sent for
me very often, asking many questions about foreign countries and their
customs, and chatting most affably. Frequently we dispensed altogether
with the formality of an interpreter, and the king and crown prince,
who were often present, were quite as frequently elsewhere, so with
her majesty so friendly and kind, I at times almost forgot that I was
not having a _tête à tête_ with an intimate friend. I of course felt
my great responsibility heavily, and was overwhelmed at times with the
thought of my duty and inefficiency. At length I asked the prayers of
the missionaries that an opportunity to speak to the queen about Christ
might be given me, and that I might realize it and make the best use of
it. And now my anxiety and trouble of mind passed away and a restful
contentedness took its place. I felt sure that I was to be guided and
led at the right time.
On the day before Christmas the queen sent for me and asked me to
tell her about our great festival, its origin and meaning, and how
celebrated. Could any one ask clearer guidance or a better opportunity?
It would be impossible not to tell the gospel story under such
circumstances, and so I told her of the angels’ song, and the star,
and the little babe that was laid in a manger, of the lost world to be
redeemed, of the one God who so loved the world, and the Redeemer who
came to save his people from their sins.
She listened intently, and with deep interest, turning from time to
time and repeating it in a most animated and sympathetic way to the
king and prince, who did not understand my accent so well.
A few days later, after asking many questions about my own country,
she said rather sadly, “Oh, that Korea were as happy, as free and as
powerful as America!” Here was another opportunity which I tried to
improve by saying, that America, though rich and powerful, was not the
greatest or the best, attempting to picture that better land without
sin, pain or tears; a land of endless glory, goodness and joy. “Ah!”
exclaimed the queen, with unspeakable pathos, “how good it would be if
the king, the prince and myself might all go there!”
Poor queen! her kingdom threatened on all sides, at that time in the
hands of an ancient foe, traitors and relentless enemies among her
own people and kindred, and some of the men whom she had raised and
advanced ready and plotting then to betray her to death. No wonder she
sighed for that haven of peace and rest. But I was forced to tell her
very sadly, that no sinners might enter there. “No sinners!” Her face
fell, the bright look faded, for she knew, accustomed though she was
to almost divine honors, that she was a sinner. Then as silence fell
in the room, I told her the good tidings, that all who would trust in
Jesus were forgiven and purified through him, and so made holy and fit
for that country. She listened very thoughtfully, and though no other
opportunity came to talk further on this subject, I was unspeakably
thankful that I had been permitted on these occasions to point out
clearly the way of salvation.
I think that in this time, when her nation’s helplessness and weakness
were emphasized, the queen sought to strengthen friendly relations with
European and Americans. She gave several formal audiences to European
and American ladies, and all who met her felt her powerful magnetic
charm and became at once her friends and well-wishers. Twice during
that winter the queen bade me ask all my friends to skate on the pond
in the palace gardens, graciously asking me to act as hostess in her
place and serve tea in the little pavilion near-by.
On Christmas day her majesty sent a beautiful sedan-chair, which had
been her own, covered with blue velvet and lined with Chinese brocaded
silk, and with it any number of screens, mats, rolls of cloth and
interesting and curious articles of Korean manufacture, with great
quantities of eggs, pheasants, fish, nuts and dates, and on the Korean
New Year’s day five hundred yen, which the queen requested me to use in
the purchase of pearls, or something similar, for myself, and a gift as
well for my little son.
He was then between four and five years of age, and the palace women
were constantly urging me to bring him with me to the palace. This, of
course, I would not do without a special request from their majesties,
and at length one day the queen asked why I had never brought him,
expressed surprise that I considered an invitation necessary, and
bade me bring him next day. I therefore took him to the palace, and
no sooner had the coolies lowered my chair than the women, who were
evidently on the watch for us, clutched him up and bore him away in
triumph, I, his mother, knew not whither. Some few minutes elapsed
before I was asked to go from the waiting room to the audience, during
which I employed my time in lively conjectures as to what was happening
to my kidnapped son. When I was called for a little later I found him
with the royal party, the center of an admiring circle.
Both the king and queen have always shown a passionate fondness for
children. Only a few months ago the king spent nearly four hundred
thousand dollars on sorcerers and temples in trying to mollify the
smallpox god, which had attacked the youngest son, a boy of about six.
So no wonder they were kind to the small American. The queen ordered
nuts and candies brought in, and insisted on his eating then and
there, although, knowing that it was bad form in the eyes of Koreans
as well as of foreigners to eat in the royal presence, and fearing for
his health as well (for he had never as yet eaten nuts), I begged her
majesty to allow this treat to be postponed. His looks and actions
were praised far beyond their deserts, and every expression noted and
remarked upon. The queen drew the child to her side in a motherly
fashion, placing her hand on his forehead, remarked anxiously that it
was too hot.
When we were ready to go, the king, to my amazement, actually knelt
down in front of the baby, and with his own “jade” fingers buttoned
on the little coat and made a brave attempt to tie the cap strings,
one of which, I blush to confess, in the unfamiliar tug was quite torn
from its moorings. Of course I was overwhelmed with confusion over the
bad conduct of the ribbon on such an occasion, but the king overlooked
it, and farewells were said and again the child was spirited swiftly
away by the palace women. I found him in the women’s quarters handed
round like a curio from one to another, petted, caressed, discussed,
half-frightened, but demure.
Poor palace women! with no homes or children, living such an aimless,
shut-in life, a child in their midst was a godsend indeed. But all
Koreans are extremely fond of children. A child is an open sesame to
their hearts and homes at all times. God blesses the missionary babies,
and these little preachers open doors that yield to no other touch
than their little dimpled fingers. From palace to hovel I never found
a woman whose heart would not soften, whose eyes would not brighten,
whose interest could not at once be enlisted by the sight of a child.
That evening as we returned home through the narrow and winding streets
of Seoul we were quite an imposing procession. A number of palace
lantern bearers accompanied us, each carrying the gayly-colored silk
official lanterns of their majesties, and preceding us were a train of
servants, carrying on their heads great trays of oranges, nuts, dried
persimmons and candies. It took little imagination, looking at those
men in their Eastern attire, at the lanterns and streets, and even
our own chair with its oriental splendor, to transport ourselves into
the middle of a chapter of the Arabian nights, with a little Aladdin
sitting in my lap and the slaves of the ring attending us home.
Soon after Christmas I dressed a Christmas tree for the royal family,
but to my great vexation, the effect was quite spoiled because their
majesties were too impatient to wait till dark to view it, and one
cannot lock the doors on kings and queens and forbid them to do as
they will in their own palaces. There were no heavy hangings or means
of darkening the room, and so the poor little candles flickered in a
sickly way in the glaring daylight, and I felt that Western customs
were lightly esteemed in the critical eyes of the East.
Indeed, in our superb self-satisfaction we often deceive ourselves in
fancying that Orientals view with open-mouthed admiration everything
European or American. I am reminded of a Korean nobleman, who, on being
asked, after his return to Seoul from America, how he liked New York,
replied, “Oh, very well, _except the dirt and the smells, which were
horrible_.” Another similar instance was that of one of the Koreans who
went with us to Chemulpo and Fusan, who saw the two-story houses, the
ships in the harbor and various wonders of civilization, and exclaimed,
“Poor Korea, poor Korea;” but when he heard a foreign band play at the
Japanese consulate, remarked with delight, “At least there is one thing
in which Japan cannot rival or compare with us, our music!”
Through the whole winter I was at the palace very often, as were the
ladies of the American and Russian legations, and Dr. Avison of our
mission, who was physician to the king, was frequently consulted, and
the recipient also personally of many royal favors. In the spring the
prime minister came, saying the queen had sent him to ask Mr. Underwood
to draw up plans and estimate the cost of a school for the sons of the
nobility. The site selected was between the east and west palaces. Her
majesty proposed to erect dwellings for the teachers, whom my husband
was asked to recommend and send for to America. The queen was prepared,
the minister said, to give at once thirty thousand dollars for the
school, and twenty or thirty thousand dollars a year for the running
expenses.
Mr. Underwood drew up the first plans and made estimates, which were
sent for her majesty’s criticism and approval. These were again
referred to Mr. Underwood, the final plans were being prepared, and
only two weeks before they were to be sent for the queen’s approval the
great blow fell which put an end to all her beneficent and enlightened
schemes for the advancement of her people.
Before proceeding further I must go back a few years and recall one or
two events which occurred before my arrival, in 1884, in order that my
readers may understand more clearly some of the events which are to be
related in the next two or three chapters.
In that year the progressive or reform party in Korean politics was
led by a man called Kim Ok Kiun, but they were continually foiled in
all their attempts towards advance and reform by the conservatives,
and at length received reliable information (so they claimed) that a
plan had been formed to murder all their prominent leaders at midnight,
on December the fourth. On this evening a banquet was to be given in
honor of the opening of the Korean post-office, and the progressives
resolved to forestall the plans of their opponents, and just before
the dinner they cut down Min Yung Ik, the queen’s cousin, and the most
influential man in the kingdom. He would have died had it not been for
the prompt assistance given by Dr. Allen, then of our mission. The
other conservative leaders were then ordered to the palace, as they
supposed, by royal command, but were there (five of them) assassinated
by the progressive party, who, headed by Kim Ok Kiun, then seized the
palace. The post-office was burned on the same night, and with it the
new stamps which had been used only once.
The Japanese minister and other foreign officials were now invited
to the palace, which invitation was accepted only by the former, who
brought one hundred and forty soldiers. Here the Japanese and the
progressive party were attacked by three thousand Koreans and between
two and three thousand Chinese. As the event grew more than doubtful,
the king was allowed to go over to the other party, in the belief that
if he was released the fighting would cease. Although this was not the
case, the little party of Japanese fired a mine, dispersed a large
number of the allies, and then forming a square, with the progressive
leaders and the Japanese minister in the center, fought their way
through the enemy, and the hostile streets, first to the Japanese
legation, and after that to the river, with the loss of only five men.
After much difficulty in obtaining boats, they crossed the river, made
their way to Chemulpo, and from there escaped safely to Japan.
The picturesque palace, with the remarkably beautiful park which
surrounds it, was not occupied again by the queen. Her majesty averred
that it was impossible to sleep there at night for the mournful wailing
of the voices of her murdered friends, which she heard continually
crying, “Why was I killed, why was I killed?” So now the wind whistles
and moans through the deserted rooms, grass and weeds push their way
through the crevices of the beautiful marble steps, green mould grows
thick on the once lovely lotus pond, and the charming little summer
pavilions are falling to ruins, while snakes and lizards slide about
the stone seats. The wide reaches of lawn are overgrown with long
grass, and tigers and leopards are said to make their lairs in the
noble woods and grottoes. The gateways fashioned in various charming
designs to form frames as it were for the beautiful vistas beyond, are
choked with a wild overgrowth of vines and weeds. Fancy has not to look
far, or listen long, to read in all this deserted and neglected beauty
the story of that one night of blood and horror, and to hear in every
chilled whisper of shuddering foliage the word “haunted.”
[Illustration: MR. CHOY CHO SI]
[Illustration: ELDER YANG AND FAMILY]
Ten years had passed, the refugees were still in Japan, but Eastern
vengeance does not tire or sleep, least of all forget. A man named
Hong, probably employed by the government, went to Japan, ingratiated
himself with Kim Ok Kiun, decoyed him to Shanghai, and there murdered
him, and on April the 12th, 1894, a Chinese gunboat brought the
assassin and his victim’s remains to Chemulpo. Arrived in Korea,
the body of the murdered man was divided and sent through the eight
provinces. Two of the other refugees had gone to America, and one Pak
Yung Ho remained in Japan. All three are to be heard from again. While
we all shuddered at and deplored this revolting deed, a stain upon
any government, it must be remembered that the man was a political
criminal of the blackest dye, and that while any nation would under
similar circumstances, if possible, have executed him as a traitor
and assassin, the Korean government was that of unenlightened Eastern
people who have not learned that revenge has no place in just
punishment.