THE DEPARTURE
Soon after breakfast on the morning of the day before our stay in Seoul
came to an end (Monday, May 27th), a telephone message was reported with
the inquiry whether we expected to be at home at ten o’clock. Contrary to
the understanding of the servant who brought the report, it proved to be
Marquis Ito himself who, accompanied by General Murata, had kindly taken
the time from his always busy morning hours to call in person and bid his
guests good-by. Speaking with his customary quiet deliberation, brevity,
and sincerity, His Excellency thanked me for the services rendered to him
and to his nation, both directly and indirectly, by the visit to Korea;
and the words which added a promise of continued friendship will always
remain among the choicest of memories. In reply—with more adequate reason
but with no less sincerity and earnestness—I thanked the Marquis for the
confidence he had reposed in me, and as well for the experience which
his invitation had furnished. If I had been of some small service, I had
received a much more than adequate reward in the opportunity of seeing
an interesting side of human life which had hitherto been, for the most
part, unfamiliar to me. I also expressed my belief in a universal and
omnipotent Spirit of Righteousness, who shapes the destinies of men and
of nations, and who uses us all in His service—if we so will—to our own
real well-being and to the good of humanity. God has so bound together
Japan and Korea, both physically and politically, that their interests
cannot be separated, whether for weal or for woe.
In the afternoon of the same day, at the house of Mr. D. W. Stevens,
whose hospitality we had before enjoyed and whose friendship we had
learned highly to prize, we met at tea some twenty-five of the most
intimate of the acquaintances made during the previous two months. This
was not, however, our final leave-taking of these friends. For the next
morning at 8.50, at the South-Gate Station, most of the same persons
gathered to give us one of those partings which one would not gladly
miss, but which are always a mixture of sad pleasure and sweet pain. The
insight of the Japanese language into such human experiences is shown
by the fact that it has a single word which combines all these complex
elements, and expresses them in itself. Nor do I find that the repetition
of many such experiences in different far-away lands at all changes the
intrinsic character of the feelings they excite. To make friends away
from home is the traveller’s choicest pleasure; to part soon from these
friends is the traveller’s keenest pain.
The journey from Seoul to Fusan was without incident and accomplished on
time. As furnishing a change in the character of the surroundings, it is
almost equivalent to going from Korea to Japan. For Fusan is essentially
a Japanese city, and has been such for many years. The greeting given us
on arrival was also characteristically Japanese. There, on the platform,
were thirty or more of both sexes, including the Resident and other
officials, whose cards were handed to us with such speed and profusion
that to recognize names was impossible, and even to avoid dropping some
of the pieces was difficult. The harbor launch again served us, as it had
done before, for transportation between railroad station and Japanese
settlement. Only twenty minutes were allowed for effecting a presentable
appearance after the day’s travel; and then we were ushered to the
dining-room, where about fifty persons had gathered for a complimentary
banquet. After this, the Resident introduced, welcomed, and proposed
a toast for the guests, and Mr. Zumoto interpreted the response. The
banquet finished, there followed, in another part of the hotel, an
entertainment of juggling, a farce, and dancing to samisen and koto—all
by amateur performers. The day had certainly, when it ended, been
sufficiently full of incident. But a real old-fashioned Japanese bath, in
a deliciously soft wooden tub, with water at 108° Fahrenheit—the first I
had been able to obtain during this visit to Japan—took away all soreness
of flesh and weariness of spirit, and secured a good night’s rest.
The following morning in Fusan was dull and unpromising—there was
drizzle, cloud, and fog over land and sea, and a fresh breeze. In spite
of the weather, however, we were taken in jinrikishas to the villa of
Mr. Kuruda, one of the oldest of the Japanese settlers, a prosperous
commission merchant and manufacturer of saké. This villa is seated on
the mountain’s side and is surrounded by as fine an example of a certain
style of Japanese gardening as I have ever seen. Here is a profusion of
artistic rock arrangement, decorated with shrubs and flowers, for the
most part brought from Japan, and marking out ponds, paths, and favored
points of view from which can be had glimpses of the charming harbor
and surrounding hills. The owner was proud to have us know that Marquis
Ito makes the villa his home when journeying between Korea and Japan.
Among other objects of interest in the garden is a huge boulder which
fell from the mountain’s side some twenty years ago; near this the owner
of the garden has chosen his last resting-place, and upon it the proper
inscription has already been prepared.
After leaving the villa we were shown over one of the public schools
which has been founded for the children of Japanese residents, and were
bidden to notice how its reports showed the high average attendance of
from 93 per cent. to 98 per cent., and even above, in the different
grades, for the entire year. Next came a visit to a private school for
girls, which is under the patronage of Japanese ladies, and which gives
an education of a more distinctly domestic type. Here we were served
with an excellent luncheon in foreign style, cooked by the pupils of the
school; during and after which there was an entertainment consisting
of _tableaux vivants_ and a musical performance that might best be
described as a trio of kotos with a violin _obligato_. One of these
_tableaux_ represented three young girls defending a castle wall with
bow and arrow—a scene corresponding to actual events of history; for, in
fact, the loyalty of certain clans in the north of Japan carried them to
such extremes in support of the Tokugawa dynasty. Indeed, through many
centuries, Japanese women and girls have been far braver and more loyal
in defence of their liege lord than Korean men have been.
From this school we were taken to the park on the mountain, with its
trees brought from Tsushima some two hundred years ago, to which
reference has already been made (p. 15) as the only one in all Korea.
The Shinto temple upon the hill-top is equally old, and was originally
dedicated to no fewer than nine different divinities—the goddess,
_Amaterasu_ (the “Heaven-Shiner,” or Sun-goddess), born from the left eye
of the Creator Izanagi, whose principal shrine is now at Ise, being the
chief.
The lecture of the afternoon was given to an audience of about six
hundred, upon a topic selected by those who had extended the invitation.
This topic was “The Necessity of an Improved Commercial Morality”; it was
expected that the speaker would enforce and illustrate the thought by
the situation at the present time in Korea, and by an appeal to Japanese
patriotism to show their nation worthy of setting a good example, and
capable of accomplishing the task of industrial development and political
redemption in the land which was now so dependent upon Japan for its
future. Mrs. Ladd also said a few words expressing her interest in what
we had seen in the morning illustrating the education given to Japanese
girls in Fusan, and also the hope that something similar might soon
be possible for their Korean sisters. The heartiness with which these
suggestions were received in this, the principal Japanese settlement of
the Peninsula, shows that the better classes of settlers are honorably
sensitive to the obligation to redeem the fair fame of their nation from
the injury which it has received in the past at the hands of the inferior
and baser elements of their own countrymen.
That this determination was not beyond reasonable hope of speedy
realization was made more evident to me by conversation with the agent
of the Transportation Company operating between Shimonoseki and Fusan. A
careful investigation of its records had revealed the fact that for some
months past about 200 Japanese passengers were, on the average, daily
coming into Korea, and only about 150 returning from Korea to Japan. Of
the fifty who, presumably, remained as settlers, about one-half chose
for their home either the city of Fusan or the surrounding country; the
other half went by rail inland, chiefly to Seoul and Chemulpo. There had
also been of late an obvious change in the character and intention of
these immigrants. Formerly, they were largely young fellows of the type
of adventurers; but now the old people, and the women and children, were
coming with the men—an indication that their business was no temporary
venture, but a purpose to remain and make homes for themselves. When it
is understood that these figures are exclusive of the Japanese military
and civil officials, they compare very closely with the results of
the census taken just before our departure. On taking passage from
Shimonoseki to Fusan we had noticed that the passengers which crowded
and overflowed the second- and third-class cabin accommodations of the
steamer appeared to be very decent folk. Many of them had brought along,
not only their luggage, but also their agricultural implements and
mechanic’s tools. But the subject of Japanese settlement in Korea, and
its effect upon both countries concerned, is so important as to deserve
further discussion of such statistics as are now available.
We went on board the _Iki Maru_ early enough to avoid the crowd that
would come by the afternoon train from Seoul. After bidding good-by to
the score of ladies and gentlemen who had come down to the wharf to
see us off, there was time for dinner before the steamer sailed. As we
watched the retreating shores of Korea, we remembered the morning of two
months before when these shores had first come into view. It was Japanese
friends who had then welcomed us—the same friends who had just bidden
us farewell. But between the two experiences lay a busy period of work
and of observation which had resulted in making more friends, Japanese
and foreign, in Korea itself. But how about the Koreans themselves; had
we won, even to the beginnings of real and constant friendly feeling,
any among their number? I was unable confidently to say. The Koreans
are spoken of, by the missionaries especially, as notably kind and
affectionate in disposition and easily attached to the foreigner by
friendly ties. By the diplomats and business men they are, for the most
part, distrusted and despised. As the guests of Marquis Ito, it was
not strange that we did not quickly gain any assurance of genuine and
trustworthy friendliness on their part. But this, too, is a subject
which requires consideration from a more impersonal point of view. For
there is something startling in the wide divergencies, and even sharp
antagonisms, of the estimates of Korean character which any serious and
disinterested inquiry evokes.
The night of May 29th was rough, and our ship rolled considerably while
crossing the straits between Korea and Japan. But by early morning
we were in smooth water. The likenesses and the contrasts of the two
countries were even more impressive than they had been when we first
landed in Fusan and passed on to Seoul. Soil and landscape, as unmodified
by man, are in this part of Japan almost exactly similar to southern
Korea. Indeed, geologically speaking, they are the same continent; at one
time in the past they were doubtless physically united. But how different
the two countries at the present time, in respect of all the signs of
human activity and human enterprise! Our Japanese companion explained the
prosperity of this part of his native land as growing out of the nature
of its early history. Prince Mori was formerly lord of all this part
of Japan, nearly as far eastward as Hiogo. When driven by Hideyoshi to
its western extremity, he had taken with him a large number of his best
retainers. Their support in the two or three districts which he was still
allowed to retain became at once a most difficult practical problem.
But it was solved by stimulating the farmers and the trading classes to
the highest possible activity in improving the natural resources, which
were by no means unusually great in this part of Japan. Thus it was the
men who made the country rich, and not the country that made the men
rich. One other illustration of the characteristically different spirit
of the two countries was mentioned in the same connection. At one time
when Hideyoshi was making war upon Prince Mori, he was called back by a
rebellion in his own rear. One of his most devoted friends and adherents
had been murdered by the rebels. Whereupon, Hideyoshi summoned his enemy,
told him frankly the truth as to the necessity of his abandoning for the
present his intention to deprive him of all his dominions, and suggested
that the time would be opportune for the Prince to recover much of his
lost ancestral estate. But Prince Mori declined to take advantage of
Hideyoshi’s necessity, since the latter was going, as in knightly-honor
bound, to avenge the death of a friend.
On coming to anchor in the harbor of Shimonoseki we found the
superintendent of the port ready with his launch to convey us to the
shore. After an hour at the hotel, during which the chief of police made
an official call to pay his respects and give us additional assurance
that we were to be well protected, we parted at the train, with sincere
regret, from the Japanese friend who had so kindly arranged all for our
comfort during our two months in Korea.
The appearance of the country along the western end of the Sanyo Railway
on this last day of May, 1907, fully confirmed the account of the
character and the policy of the men who, since the time of Hideyoshi,
have developed it. The views of the sea on the right-hand side of
the train cannot easily be surpassed anywhere in the world. On the
other side, the fields in the valleys, and the terraces on the hills,
constitute one almost continuous, highly cultivated garden for more than
one hundred miles. The tops of the mountains, except in a few unfavorable
spots, are covered with forests of thickly-set and varied arborage. The
comparatively damp climate of Japan covers with that exquisite soft haze
which the Japanese artists appreciate so highly and reproduce so well,
the same kind of soil and of rocks which shine out so bright and strong
in their coloring across the straits in Korea.
In the train, my next neighbor on my right—a big German who smoked strong
cigars incessantly, and who said that he had been in the Orient for forty
years—declared unhesitatingly that the people of Japan, outside of a
certain portion of a few cities where foreign influences had operated
most strongly, were all savages to-day, as they were when the country
was first opened to Western civilization. When he was reminded that the
percentage of children in actual attendance in the public schools was
much larger than in the United States, and at least equal to the most
favored parts of Germany, he replied that the children were never really
being taught in school, but always to be seen out of doors, going through
some kind of “fanatics” or gymnastics! It is no wonder that this comment
elicited no reply. But the picture of the more than a score of thousands
of eager and attentive teachers and students to whom I had spoken—not
by way of occasional, popular speeches, but in courses of lectures and
addresses on serious themes—left me unconvinced. Nor was the remark
attributed to the inferior insight of his own nation, whose scholastic
training for diplomatic service has been superior to that of other
countries, and whose commercial education is fast approaching the same
grade of excellence. But it was another lesson in the purely external
and untrustworthy character of the prevailing knowledge of the Far East,
its people, their excellences and their faults; and, _per contra_, of
the only way reasonably to estimate and effectually to attain friendly
relations with men in general and with Oriental peoples in particular.
The views of the “old resident”—missionary, diplomat, or business man—as
such, are of little or no value. This is especially true as touching the
relations of Japan and Korea.