A VISIT TO PYENG-YANG
From the historical, as well as the geographical and commercial points
of view, the city of Pyeng-yang (spelled also Pyong-yang and in various
other ways) is the most important place in all Northern Korea. It has
frequently been besieged and assaulted, both by Japanese invaders from
the south and by various forces—Mongolian, Chinese, Manchu—coming down
from the north to pour their devastating hordes over the country. It
was hither that the Korean king fled before the armies of “men in
fierce-looking helmets and bright armor with little pennons at their
backs bearing their names and family badges,” which were sent against him
by Hideyoshi more than three hundred years ago. The city is beautifully
situated; it is by nature constituted for all time as a principal centre
for distributing over the Yellow Sea the industrial products of fertile
North Korea and for receiving in return whatever the adjoining parts of
China and Manchuria may furnish for coastwise trade.
Previous to the China-Japan war there were probably not more than a
half-score of Japanese within the walled city of Pyeng-yang. But some
two years after the end of this war the Japanese colony had grown to
several hundred souls. During and after the war with Russia, however,
the increase of this colony was so rapid that it could find no room
within the walls of the city. It therefore burst through, as it were,
the barrier of these walls and built a new city for itself outside the
South Gate, which, like all similar enterprises in Korea, by its neat
dwellings and shops, its clean and broad streets, and its general air of
prosperity, contrasts with, and forms an object lesson to, the Korean
city within the walls.
The original inhabitants of the Japanese city were by no means altogether
of the class most creditable to Japan, or comfortable as neighbors for
the Korean population. There were many adventurers, hangers-on and
panderers to the army, who did not stop at either fraud or violence in
their treatment of the native population of Pyeng-yang. And while the
Japanese army during the war behaved with most admirable moderation and
discipline here, as elsewhere in Korea and Manchuria, at its close even
the military authorities were not as scrupulous as they should have been
by way of appropriating land and other necessaries for their permanent
occupation. The wrongs which were then committed are, however, as far
as possible in such cases, now being measurably remedied or compensated
for; and in spite of the fact that the withdrawal of the divisional
headquarters of the Japanese army has affected somewhat seriously the
retail trade, and there still continues to be more or less of disturbing
friction between dealers of the two nationalities, and a crop of disputes
over land-claims that need settlement, there is now a prosperous Japanese
city, with some 5,000 inhabitants. The Korean city is also growing
in numbers and prosperity. As the two nationalities come to know and
understand each other better, that will inevitably, but happily, take
place here which has already taken place at Chemulpo. They will learn
the better to respect each other, and each other’s rights; and to live
together in freedom from outbreaking strife and sullen bitterness, if not
in perfect harmony. It was a good indication of this possibility to learn
that the Japanese Resident in Pyeng-yang already has coming to his court
for adjustment more cases of Koreans against Koreans than of Koreans
against his own countrymen.
The invitation to visit this interesting and important city was most
prompt and cordial. It came within a few days of our arrival in Seoul. In
spite, therefore, of the fact that I was suffering from a somewhat severe
attack of influenza, brought on in the quite ordinary way of breathing in
the dust of the streets of the capital city, we started for Pyeng-yang,
accompanied by Mr. Zumoto, by the early morning train of April 5th. To
make the journey more surely comfortable, and to emphasize the relation
of the travellers to the Resident-General, the party was escorted about
half-way by one railroad official, who, having committed us to another
that had come on from Pyeng-yang for the purpose, himself returned to his
duties at Seoul.
The night before had been rainy—a somewhat unusual thing in such
abundance at this time of year; but by noon the sky and air had cleared,
and the strong sunlight brought out the colors of the landscape in a
way characteristic of the usual climate of Korea in the early Spring.
The railway from Seoul to Wiju is being very largely built over again;
so that part of the time our train was running over the permanent way
and part of the time over the military road which was quite too hastily
constructed to be left after the war in a satisfactory state. This
process of reconstruction consists in straightening curves, adjusting
grades, erecting stone sustaining-walls and heavy, steel bridges; as
well as in making the old bed, where it is followed, more solid and
better ballasted. The part of Korea through which we were now passing
was obviously more fertile and better cultivated than the part lying
between Fusan and Seoul. There were even some portions of the main
highway which resembled a passable jinrikisha road in Japan, instead of
the wretched and well-nigh impassable footpaths which are often the only
thoroughfares further south. In places, also, the peasants seemed to have
overcome their fears, both of the laws punishing sacrilege and also of
the avenging spirits of the dead; for the burial mounds had been replaced
by terraces which enabled the fields to be cultivated nearly or quite to
the tops of the hills.
On our arrival at the station in Pyeng-yang two of the missionaries met
us with a friendly greeting. Before taking our jinrikishas for the house
of Dr. Noble, who was to be our host, I walked for a short distance over
the gravelled plain surrounding the station to where some 100 or 120
school-boys were drawn up in military line to give the foreign teacher a
welcome. This promptly took his mind and heart back to Japan as well as
carried it forward to the future generation of Korean men. On one side,
dressed in kakhi and looking very important, stood the larger number,
who were members of the Christian school, connected with the Methodist
mission. But right opposite in Korean costume of plum-colored cloth were
arrayed some thirty or forty pupils of a neighboring Confucian school.
It was a matter of interest and significance to learn that just recently
the latter, on receiving overtures of friendly alliance, had agreed to
a meeting for the discussion of terms; and when the proposal had been
made that the “heathen school” should become Christian, it had been
promptly accepted! This was, of course, a way of achieving unity entirely
satisfactory to the missionaries. At the time of our visit the wife
of the head-master of the Confucian school and the wife of one of the
teachers had become earnest and active Bible-women.
While we were being conveyed in jinrikishas to the foot of the hill on
which stands the house of our host, and as well the church and other
buildings belonging to the mission, the Doctor himself was getting home
in a different way. This was by means of a tram, the rude car of which
seated six persons, three on each side, facing outward and back to
back, but with Korean coolies for their motive power—thus reviving, of
course, in new form the time-worn joke about the Far East’s “Pullman
car.” As to the position and significance of the group of buildings, in
one of which we were to be entertained for nearly a week, I avail myself
of the description in the _Seoul Press_, published subsequently by its
editor who was the Japanese friend and companion of this trip. “As his
railway train approaches the city, the first objects that catch his
eyes are a cluster of buildings, some in foreign style, others in half
foreign and half Korean style, which crown the hill-tops and constitute
the most conspicuous feature of the magnificent landscape that developes
itself before his eyes. His wonder increases still more, as the visitor
inquires into the result of the great missionary activity of which these
buildings are outward manifestations. How great the success has been
may be imagined, when it is computed by a very competent authority that
fully one-third of the entire Korean population of the city (roughly
estimated at between 40,000 and 50,000) are professing Christians. There
are Koreans and Japanese, apparently in a position to know, who put the
proportion of the Christian section of the population at much higher
figures; they confidently say that quite one-half of the whole population
belongs to the new faith.... The success which the work of Christian
propagandism has attained in Pyeng-yang is all the more marvellous when
it is remembered that the work was commenced scarcely more than fifteen
years ago. The success of the work has not been confined to the city
alone; it is noticeable, though not quite in like degree, in the adjacent
districts and all over North Korea which looks up to Pyeng-yang as the
fountain and centre of the new religious life.”
On the following day, which was Saturday, I had my first experience with
one of the larger Korean audiences. The numbers in Seoul had been,
at most, some 500 or 600. But here, although the address was in the
afternoon, no fewer than 1,700, all, with the exception of a few foreign
ladies, of the male sex, assembled in the Methodist meeting-house which
was just across a narrow lane from the gate of Dr. Noble’s residence.
The peculiarities of such an audience are worthy of a brief description.
All were seated on the floor. Close around the platform, on which were
a few of the missionaries and of the Japanese officials, were grouped
several hundred school-boys, packed as thickly as herrings in a box.
These were dressed in garments of many and bright colors. Back of them
and reaching to the doors, massed solidly with no aisles or empty spaces
left between, were Korean men, in their picturesque monotone of white
clothing and black crinoline hats. The audiences at Pyeng-yang, as at
Seoul, were much more restless and seemingly volatile than those of
the same size which I had addressed in Japan; although it should be
remembered that the latter were chiefly composed of teachers, officials,
and men prominent in business and in the professions, whereas this
audience, although largely Christian, was of the lowly and comparatively
ignorant. A distinctly religious character was given to all the meetings
in Pyeng-yang by prayer and by the singing of Christian hymns. The tunes
were familiar; and although the language was far removed in structure
and vocabulary, the attempt had evidently been made, with only a partial
success, to reproduce in a rhythmic way the English words which had been
set to them. The singing was led by a Korean chorister who used his baton
in a vigorous and fairly effective, if not wholly intelligent, fashion.
The cabinet organ was also played by a young Korean man. The missionaries
say that the people show great interest and even enthusiasm in learning
foreign music; and that they are apt pupils so far as the singing of
hymns is concerned. The favorite native music is a dismal wailing upon
pipes and rude flute-like instruments, accompanied by the tom-tom of
drums. The address on this occasion was upon the relation of education
to the social welfare; it was interpreted by Dr. Noble with obvious
clearness and vigor.
The audience next morning (Sunday, April 7th) was not so large, but was
scarcely less interesting. It comprised both sexes, separated, however,
by a tight screen which ran from the platform through the middle of
the church to the opposite wall. The numbers present were some 1,400,
about equally divided between the two sexes. The girls on the one
side, and the boys on the other, in their gaily colored clothing, were
massed about the platform; and back of them the women and the men—both
in white, but the former topped out with white turbans and the latter
with their black hats. The entire audience marked out upon the floor
an impressive color-scheme. It was said that there were enough of the
population of the city attending Christian services at that same hour
to make three congregations of the same size. The afternoon gathering
for Bible study and the evening services were even more crowded; so that
the aggregate number of church-goers that Sunday in this Korean city of
somewhat more than 40,000 could not have been less than 13,000 or 14,000
souls. Considering also the fact that each service was stretched out
to the minimum length of two hours, there was probably no place in the
United States that could compete with Pyeng-yang for its percentage of
church-goers on that day. Yet ten years ago there was in all the region
scarcely the beginning of a Christian congregation.
In the afternoon I spoke to about thirty of the missionaries, telling
them, in informal address, of certain economic, social, and religious
changes in the United States, which seemed to me destined profoundly to
affect the nature of Christian missions in so-called “heathen lands.” Nor
did it seem incongruous when prayer was offered that the “home land”
might receive in its present great need some of the blessings which were
being experienced in heathen Korea. For I had long been of the opinion
that if the word “heathen” is to be used with that tinge of moral and
intellectual opprobrium which usually attaches to it, all so-called
Christian countries are in some important respects very considerably
entitled to the term. And, indeed, who that understands the true spirit
of the religion of Christ shall hesitate to confess that America
and American churches as sorely need deliverance from the demons of
cowardice, avarice, and pride, as do the Koreans from the superstitious
fear of devils or of the spirits of their own ancestors?
The audience of Monday morning numbered 800; it seemed, however, from
the point of view which regards social and political standing, to be of
decidedly superior quality. This was probably due, in part at least,
to the nature of the theme, which was—“Education and the Stability
and Progress of the Nation.” The attention, too, appeared to be more
thoughtful and unwavering at this meeting.
The public speaking at Pyeng-yang was concluded by an address, especially
designed for the Japanese official classes and prominent business men,
and given in the hall of the Japanese Club on the afternoon of the day
before leaving the city. There were present about one hundred and fifty
of this class of hearers. To them I spoke very plainly, praising their
preparation for, and conduct of, the war with Russia; then warning
them of the difficulties and dangers in business and politics which
the rivalries of peace would compel the nation to face; and, finally,
exhorting them to maintain the honor of Japan in Korea, before the
civilized world, by treating the Koreans in an honorable way. Although,
according to the testimony of the Japanese friend who interpreted this
address, there were uneasy consciences in the audience, the warning and
the rebuke, as well as the praise, were received with equal appreciation
and gratitude. I take this opportunity to testify that, instead of
deserving the reputation often given to the Japanese, of being abnormally
and even ridiculously sensitive to criticism, I have found them, on the
contrary, remarkably willing to be told of their failures and faults, and
ready to receive, at least with the appearance of respect and kindness,
suggestions for their correction and amendment.
My engagements in Pyeng-yang came so near to the limit of exhausting my
time and strength that I was unable to see as much as would have been
otherwise desirable of the externals, and of the antiquities, of the
neighborhood. From the piazza in front of our host’s house nearly the
whole of the Korean city lies literally _spread out_, as all the cities
of the country are, beneath the eye of the observer from a surrounding
hill. The streets within the walls are, with one or two exceptions,
narrow, winding, and made disgusting by foul sights and smells. Here
there has been little or none of that widening of thoroughfares and
superficial cleaning which has given a partial relief, both to the aspect
and to the reality of Seoul. But, as has already been said, the natural
situation is beautiful. Under the advice of Japan, a part of the now
useless city wall went to make a fine _bund_; while the space left by the
clearing was converted into a street. On passing through an indescribably
foul, narrow lane, which makes a disgraceful break between the broad,
clean thoroughfare of the Japanese settlement and the fairly broad but
dirty street of the Korean city, we were told the following story of the
recent attempt of the Resident to get this passage widened. The story is
so characteristic of relations between the two peoples that I turn aside
to tell it.
Feeling the great and obvious importance of having this public
improvement made, the Resident called a meeting of the adjoining
property-owners to discuss the terms which would be satisfactory to
them. The Japanese owners agreed to contribute the land necessary for
the purpose and to move back the buildings at their own expense; the
Korean owners agreed to cede the land if the expense of moving the
buildings was borne by the Government. The Resident went for a few
weeks to Japan, expecting that the agreement would stand, and that by
his return the improvement would be well begun. Immediately after his
departure, however, two Korean Christians, who had remained away from
the meeting for discussing terms, induced the other Koreans to break
their compact and refuse to surrender the land for less than 200 _yen_
per _tsubo_ (6 × 6 ft.)—an absurdly extravagant price. The attempt at
doing this much-needed work came, therefore, to a complete standstill.
The whole transaction was reported by the _Korean Daily News_ of Seoul
with its customary felicitous (?) misrepresentation, as follows: “People
in Pyeng-yang are greatly stirred up over the demand of the Japanese
that the Korean houses on each side of the road outside the South Gate
be torn down to widen the road. The people gathered at the office of the
prefect and protested against such seizure without proper compensation,
and they said they would die sooner than give in to such an imposition.”
I can assure the reader that much of the fraud and oppression charged
against the Japanese by the Koreans and by their so-called “foreign
friends” (even including some of the missionaries) is of the same order.
[A letter from Pyeng-yang to the _Seoul Press_, published not long after
our return, announced that the “widening of the approach between the
Japanese city and the old town of Pyeng-yang is now under way, and soon
a fine wide road will lead from the railway station to the Gate”—all of
which means that when the Korean property-owners found their attempts at
lying and swindling were not going to succeed, they saw the advantage of
renewing the original contract.]
A row up the river in his boat, kindly furnished by Mr. Kikuchi, the
Japanese Resident, afforded several pleasant hours of recreation as well
as an opportunity to see for ourselves something more of the present
condition and future prospects of the chief city of Northern Korea. The
city gate through which we reached the river is the finest thing about
its ancient fortifications. The views of the bank, which rises in most
places bluff and high above the water, are very picturesque and crowded
with scenes of both immediate and historical interest. Scores of junks
and sampans, loaded with many kinds of goods—for the most part, however,
of no great value—are either moored to the narrow beach below the bank
or are slowly finding their way up and down the river. At different
heights of the banks, standing on projecting ledges or on platforms, men
were cutting inscriptions upon the rocky sides in Chinese characters.
These were designed to celebrate for future generations the virtues and
successes of living merchants and magistrates; but these workmen of
to-day were only adding a few more to the much more numerous inscriptions
commemorating the otherwise forgotten and, for the most part undoubtedly,
really ignoble dead. By the brink of the river were the Korean women at
their never-ceasing task of washing and pounding dry the white clothing
of their male lords. At one bend in the river, where the projecting cliff
acts as an effective breakwater against the winter ice and the summer
freshets, the top is crowned by a pavilion which occupies the place where
negotiations went on between the Chinese and the Japanese at the time of
the Hideyoshi invasion.
[Illustration: Water-Gate at Pyeng-Yang.]
The boat landed us at the foot of the celebrated “Peony Hill,” part way
up which is situated the decayed pavilion in which royalty used to be
fed and given to drink on the occasion of excursions from the city to
this sightly place. From this point the views bring the past history
and the present prospects of Pyeng-yang together in an interesting way.
For, looking to the right, one sees an ancient pagoda and the remains
of a Buddhist temple. Looking forward and downward, the eye is well
pleased by taking in at once the pleasant prospect of water and rock and
fields which the ascent has given only bit by bit, as it were. Looking
upward one sees the difficult heights which the Japanese troops stormed
so unexpectedly but successfully in the invasion of more than three
centuries ago; and also in the war with China, when they turned the guns
of the Chinese forces from their own fortifications upon themselves and
slaughtered the unfortunate until the streets of the city were choked
with corpses. But to the left, and lying just below, is the green island
on which the pumping-works to supply the foul city with cleansing streams
are soon to be erected. Beyond the island across the river are the
pastures, where the breeding of improved horses is to be carried on by a
partnership of both governments; and still further beyond are the coal
fields which the Residency-General is trying to preserve for the Crown
against the efforts of both native and foreign promoters, to exploit them
to their own rather than to the nation’s advantage. But the story of
these and similar efforts will be told in other places of our narrative;
and for the moment we will forget the interests of history and of present
adventures, and will just thoughtlessly submit ourselves to the pleasure
of being rowed down the beautiful river to the dirty and seditious city.
For it is a story of a nearly successful attempt at a seditious outbreak
which would have had a most unfortunate and surely unsuccessful ending,
that must now engage the attention. This story also, illustrates the
Korean character, the Korean situation, and the relations of the two
peoples, in no doubtful way.
The evening before, on Tuesday, April 9th, a committee of students from
the missionary theological school had requested an interview with me
on the following day; and the morning hour of eight o’clock had been
appointed. At the time set they arrived—three in number—and the interview
was held in Dr. Noble’s study or “work-shop.” My visitors began,
Korean fashion, far off from their final goal, and meandered around it
rather than toward it, like poachers feeling their way in the dark. An
awkward pause was finally broken by my exhorting them to speak plainly
and freely; at which they replied that their country’s condition was
much misunderstood and that it was hoped that I would understand and
sympathize with them. Of my desire to do this I at once assured them; but
when the request seemed to be taking a more political turn, I replied
that my interests, influence, and work, were all directed along the lines
of morals, education, and religion. As a teacher, it was only as my
teaching could get a hearing and have an influence on life, that my stay
in Korea could benefit the Koreans themselves. At the same time, I could
assure them of my confidence in Marquis Ito’s intention to administer his
office in the interests of their countrymen.
During all this conversation there was the appearance, in general
characteristic of all similar interviews between natives and foreigners,
of a mixture of suspicion and duplicity which is well calculated to
betray the unwary into serious mistakes. Certainly, the real motive
for their coming was being kept back; the suppressed undercurrent of
feeling that could be detected was such as by no means to encourage the
confidence that the feeling of race-hatred had been thoroughly purged
away from these theological students by the meeting for prayer and
confession of the night before. But just as I was obliged to excuse
myself in order to keep another engagement the true cause of their
request for an interview suddenly sprang into the light. All the night
before, they said, the Korean city of Pyeng-yang had been in a state of
the most intense excitement over the report from Seoul that their Emperor
was going to be deposed by the Japanese! There was just then only time
for me to learn from my Japanese companion that he had not the slightest
suspicion of how the report, even, could have originated, and to send
word to this committee of interviewers that neither he nor I gave the
slightest credence to so absurd a rumor.
But this matter did not end with a single interview conducted by the
deputation of Christian students. Word had previously been sent that
the Korean governor of Pyeng-yang desired to call upon me, and the
promise had been made that he should be received in appropriate manner
at noon of the same day. Soon after our return from the trip up the
river, His Excellency appeared, accompanied by his secretary and by one
of the committee of the morning who acted also as spokesman of this
second deputation. For such it really was, rather than a merely friendly
call from the chief native magistrate of the city. The Governor seemed
exceedingly ill at ease; there was in even greater degree than had been
the case with my visitors of the early morning, an appearance of mingled
suspicion and suppressed excitement, of fear and of hatred. In this
case, however, the real matter of concernment did not come at all to the
fore. The conversation ended when there had been repeated declarations
of my visitor’s interest in the improvement of education among his
own countrymen, to which I had replied that I believed this to be the
important work which should occupy all Korean patriots and all the wise
and true foreign friends of Korea.
It afterward came to my knowledge that the Governor, although not himself
a Christian, on leaving the house, went with his secretary and the
theological student into the adjoining church of the Methodist mission,
and there fell upon his face and began to beat his forehead on the floor
and bewail the threatening situation for himself as the responsible
magistrate, and the sad fate awaiting his country at the hands of the
Japanese. The thought of the enormous interval between this conduct and
that of any Japanese official, similarly situated, remains with me to
reveal in vivid colors the difference of the two peoples. But all this
was only in the small, essentially the same thing which has been going on
in the large, throughout the centuries of Korean history.
On my return from the address to the Japanese I was almost immediately
visited by a third deputation which consisted of the same theological
student who had called twice before on this same day, and of two others
whom I did not recognize. This time also the conversation began in
similar roundabout fashion; indeed, this time the point of starting was
even more remote in character from the real end which it was intended
to reach. There was a preliminary recital of their country’s weakness,
poverty, and need of foreign assistance; this was accompanied by the
suggestion that possibly I might have some rich friend willing to
contribute liberally to their mission school, or to the much needed
enlargement of the church edifice. Again, the visitors were assured of
my deep interest in the welfare of Korea and of my sincere desire to do
what lay within my power to promote this welfare. It must be remembered,
however, that I myself belonged to the class of teachers who, even in
rich America, have little wealth at their disposal. To the best of my
knowledge, I had not a single friend among the American millionaires.
Should it ever be possible, however, nothing would be more to my
mind than to direct some of the overflow of my country’s wealth into
the channels of educational and religious work in needy Korea. I was
sincerely impressed with the need and with the opportunity.
Now, plainly, all this was not at all to the point of the interest
weighing upon the minds of my auditors. Suddenly, and in a startling
manner, the real cause of the three formal visits from as many different
deputations, made itself known. With lips white and trembling, the
same theological student who had been present at each visit, drew from
his sleeve an envelope, and from the envelope a document printed in
mixed Chinese and Korean, the purport of which he began to explain to
my interpreter in a highly excited and rhetorical way. This document
purported to be an elaborate statement of no fewer than forty-eight
reasons why Japan should annex Korea and reduce its Emperor to the grade
of a peer of Japan. “Where did this remarkable _pronunciamento_ come
from?” was, of course, my first inquiry. Why, from Seoul, from the Court;
but it was originally a production of the Japanese Government which,
fortunately, had been discovered in time and which was now officially
sent out in order to warn all Korean patriots against this outrageous
plot concocted by the Japanese!
The situation was obviously serious, if not threatening. On inquiry it
was soon disclosed that for two days and nights the entire native city of
Pyeng-yang had been in such a state of excitement as is not easily made
credible to citizens of a country accustomed to the exercise of sound
political sense and self-control. No business had been done, no buying
or selling, on the last market day. All night long the men and women of
the city had been sleepless and engaged in wailing and beating the ground
and the floor of their houses with their heads. Not a few of the worst
classes—including, I fear, some professing Christians—had been working
themselves and others up to threats of violence and of murder.
The silliness of mind, the almost hopeless and incurable credulity and
absence of sound judgment which characterizes, with exceedingly few
exceptions, the political views and actions of even the official and
educated classes in Korea, was the impression made upon me by this,
as by all my experiences during my stay in the land. I assured these
visitors, however, that there could be no doubt about this document
being a forgery—as, indeed, it turned out to be. Marquis Ito and the
Japanese Government had no such immediate intention; and, indeed, if
the Resident-General entertained the thought, he surely was not foolish
enough to proceed in any such way. Such childish behavior on their own
part, I added, was very discouraging to their friends. What could be
done by others for a country where the men who should be leaders behaved
habitually in a so unmanly way? Let them quiet themselves, tell their
Governor what I had said, and bid him use all his authority to quiet
their fellow-citizens. This advice was complied with, as the event
showed; the Korean governor was reassured and promised to unite his
influence with that of the Christian forces to secure a return of the
populace to their normal quiet. It was gratifying afterwards to have this
official’s expression of gratitude for what was then done to assist in
the peace-promoting administration of his office.
Dr. Noble, at once upon the departure of this committee, gave orders
that the church bell should be rung to assemble the Christian community;
and in such manner as to indicate to them that they were called together
to hear “good news.” An hour later, when we were going down the hill
to dine with the Japanese Resident, the people had not yet assembled;
but on our return in the evening they were departing to their homes,
quieted by two hours of opportunity to express their excited feeling
in the Korean fashion of wailing, sobbing, and beating their foreheads
upon the mats—assisted by the comforting and reassuring words of those
to whom they looked as having knowledge and authority. It afterward
transpired[4] that a young Korean, one An Chung-ho, who had become
by foreign residence _infected_, rather than instructed, with certain
so-called “modern ideas,” had busied himself, as the agent of the
seditious intriguers at Seoul, in distributing this forged document and
in haranguing the people with a view to excite a popular uprising against
the Japanese. It is needless to say that the document itself was _not_
printed in Japan. But the next morning’s sunlight saw the mist and the
threatening storm-cloud cleared away.
It was during this visit to Pyeng-yang that I saw something of the
remarkable features of the religious movement which was most intense
there, but which spread, during the winter of 1906-’07, widely over
Korea. The “revival” began—and, indeed, as regards its principal
immediate results, it consisted largely—in the irresistible tendency to
confession, contrition, and prayer for forgiveness, among Christians
themselves. The confessions, while in general they embraced such
familiar topics as pride, envy, unfaithfulness, and coldness in the
Christian life, very naturally soon revealed the characteristic vices
and weaknesses of the Korean character. Taken at their own estimate,
and making all reasonable allowances for the exaggerations of temporary
excitement, they made obvious the fact that lying, stealing, cheating,
and impurity, had been nearly universal in the hitherto existing
Christian communities of Korea. In many cases these “spiritual exercises”
were accompanied by the most violent physical demonstrations, such as
sobbing, wailing, beating the forehead on the floor, and even falling
down unconscious and frothing at the mouth.
A more graphic picture of these religious meetings can perhaps be
obtained by a brief description of one which I attended, where, however,
the demonstrations were all of a relatively mild order. This was the
evening gathering of the theological students on a day during the whole
of which they had been holding a series of similar gatherings. As we
arrived in front of the building in which the meeting was held, there
pierced the silent night air a voice of wailing rather than of articulate
speaking, in a high-pitched key and with extreme rapidity of utterance.
On entering, some sixty Korean men appeared, seated on the floor with
their heads bowed in their hands; three or four missionaries were
occupying a bench which ran across one end of the room. At the other end
stood one of the students swaying back and forth; it was his confession
of sin that we had heard while still outside. Precisely what the
confession was, there was no opportunity to learn; for after speaking a
few sentences more, with ever increasing rapidity and shrillness of tone,
the speaker fell to the floor sobbing and moaning convulsively and began
beating the mats with fists and with forehead. One of the missionaries
stepped carefully between the stooping bodies of his comrades, found his
way to the prostrate sinner, and by words and gentle blows upon the back
attempted to revive and comfort him.
Then followed a series of similar confessions, interspersed with prayers
for forgiveness, none of which, however, attained the same degree of
vehemence and physical excess. The substance of sins confessed by these
Korean students of divinity was most illuminating. The next penitent
wished it to be known that he had broken all the commandments; although
it appeared that this far limit had been reached before his profession of
Christianity, and that he had been guilty of murder rather in the spirit
than in fact. Various following narratives of experience, made with
varying degrees of emotional excitement, included forms of wrong-doing
common to most church members in all countries, such as pride, envy,
deceit, infidelity, and impurity of thought, if not of life. But the
climax was fairly reached when one man of early middle-age arose, and
in a markedly unemotional way asserted that, although he had formerly
resisted all efforts to make him tell the truth as to his real manner of
living, he now felt that the time had come when this painful duty could
no longer be postponed. How to repent, however, he did not know. The
story which was told in cold-blooded fashion was, briefly, as follows:
Before professing Christian conversion he had been a wild fellow, and
among other crimes had twice set fire to the houses of his neighbors.
After profession of conversion he had been employed as a colporteur.
In this connection he had thrown away or destroyed the books he was
paid to distribute, had told his employer that robbers had attacked him
and stolen them, and thus had collected his full salary. Still later
he had renounced all pretence of Christianity and had himself become a
robber. His life as a theological student up to the present time had been
characterized by pride, envy, and constant secret hatred of those of his
fellow-students who had surpassed him in their studies.
Among the most significant of the confessions were those of bitter hatred
of the Japanese, and even of murderous thoughts and plans toward them.
These wholesome self-accusations were in several instances followed by
earnest and pathetic petitions—not only for forgiveness of themselves,
but for the Divine blessing upon their enemies. [In this connection
it is pertinent to remark that, while there has undoubtedly been much
ill-treatment of Koreans by Japanese, I have never known of any of that
bitter race-hatred toward the former by the latter, which undoubtedly at
the present time permeates a large part of the Korean population toward
the Japanese.] On being asked to say a few words to these students, I
spoke of the unreasonable and un-Christian character of race-hatred and
asked them to put from their minds all such foolish and wicked feelings.
And then, as though to emphasize the beauty and brightness of nature as
contrasted with the unseemly and dark condition of man, we came out under
a sky as clear and alight with scintillating stars as I have ever seen in
India or in Egypt.
On our arrival at the station of Pyeng-yang, to return to Seoul, on
the morning of Wednesday, April 10th, the little fellows from the
Presbyterian mission-school were there before us, already in line with
Korean and American flags flying, and with drums and trumpets making a
creditable noise. The appropriate parting address to this school had
scarcely been finished, when another school appeared in the distance, on
the double-quick for the station, to whom, when they had got themselves
into proper shape, Dr. Noble repeated the substance of the words just
spoken to their comrades earlier arrived. Scarcely was this finished,
when, for the third time—and now it was the pupils from the Confucian
school—a troop of boys came scurrying through the dust, lined up, and
claimed their share of the foreign sahib’s parting salutation and advice.
And then we were slowly drawn out of the station, and leaving behind on
the fence the several hundred school-children and on the platform the
several score of Korean Christians and of Japanese who had come to send
us off, we returned without further incident to Seoul.
The few crowded days at Pyeng-yang appear in retrospect as an epitome of
Korean history, Korean temperament, and the physical and social relations
sustained in the past and at the present time between Korea and Japan.
Improvement may confidently be expected in the near future, according
as the economical and social forces are combined with the moral and the
religious to bear upon the population now adult. But the larger and more
permanent hopes for the future depend upon the school-children, who, even
to-day, are becoming more intelligent, orderly, and self-controlled than
their ancestors ever have been.