Corea: The Hermit Nation

Early in May, 1867, the foreign settlement at Shanghae was thrown into excitement by the report of the return of an unsuccessful piratical expedition from Corea. The ennui of Eurasian port life was turned into a lively glow of excitement. Conversation at the clubs and tea-tables, which had wilted down to local gossip, Wade’s policy, paper hunts, and the races, now turned upon the politics and geography, methods of royal sepulture, mortuary architecture, antiquities, customs, and costumes in the mysterious peninsula. The pleasures of wheelbarrow rides, and visits to the bubbling springs, now palled before the pending trial at the United States consular court.

An American citizen was charged with making an “unlawful and scandalous expedition” to Corea, and of violently attempting to land in a country with which the United States had no treaty relations. It was further stated that he had gone to exhume the bones of a defunct king in order to hold them for sale or ransom. In plain English, it was said to be a piratical and body-snatching descent upon the grave-yards of Chō-sen, to dig up royal remains, not for the purpose of dissection, nor in the interests of science or of archæology, but for the sake of money, which money was to be extorted from the regent and court of Seoul.

The idea, of course, awoke merriment as well as interest. One may well understand why Professor Marsh should make periodical descents upon the bone-yards of Red Cloud’s territory, and exhibit his triumphs—skeletons of toothed birds and of geological horses as small as Corean ponies—in a museum under glass cases, well mounted with shining brass springs and iron joints. Even a school-boy can without laughing think of Dr. Schliemann rooting among the tombs of Mycenæ, and Di Cesnola sifting the dust of Kurium for its golden treasures. Even the night picture of resurrectionists, [397]emptying graves in a Scotch kirk-yard for subjects to sell at a pound sterling apiece, has few elements of humor about it.

But to conceive of civilized “Christians,” or Israelites, chartering a steamer to exhume and steal the carcase and mouldering bones of a heathen king, to hold them in pawn to raise money on them, created more laughter than frowns or tears. It was thought that the sign under which the ship sailed, instead of being the flag of the North German Confederation, should have been the three golden balls, such as hang above a pawnbroker’s windows.

The person on trial was formerly an interpreter at the United States consulate, and, having learned Chinese from childhood, was able to speak the language fluently, and thus converse, by means of tongue or pencil, with the many Coreans who know the standard of communication in Eastern Asia either by sound or sight. It was he also who furnished the cash for the expedition, the commander-in-chief of which was one Oppert, a North German subject; the guide was a French Jesuit priest named Farout (evidently a fictitious name) who spoke Corean, having been in the country as a missionary. These three were the leaders of the expedition.

Before going, the American had told Consul Seward that his object was to take a Corean embassy to Europe, to negotiate treaties, and to explain to the governments of France and the United States the murder of their subjects in Corea. Four Coreans, with the French missionary Bishop Ridel, had been in Shanghae a short time before, April 24, 1867; and the defendant declared that it was from these four persons, whom he styled “commissioners,” that he got his information as to the desire of the Corean government for treaties, etc. He also stated that this knowledge was held only by the four Coreans, himself, and a Jewish peddler, who had several times penetrated into Corea, and by whom the Corean “commissioners,” had been brought to Shanghae. These “commissioners,” he averred, had a new and correct version of the General Sherman affair. According to their report, some of the crew had become embroiled in a row growing out of the improper treatment of some native women, and were arrested. The crew went to rescue them. They succeeded, and took also two native officers on board for hostages. This so enraged the people that they attacked the crew, killed eight at once, and made prisoners of the others who were still alive.

Readers of our narrative will smile at discovering the poor [398]fishermen who brought their bishop across the Yellow Sea in their boat thus transformed into “ambassadors.”

One thing seemed to be on the surface—that this modern Jason and his argonauts had gone out to find a golden fleece, but came back shorn.

On the return of the expedition, Mr. Seward questioned the American closely, sifted the matter, and finally, being satisfied that something was wrong, put him on trial, eliciting the facts which seem to be the following:

Oppert, who had been at the Naipo, and up the Han River in the Emperor and Rona, secured a steamer named the China, of six hundred and eighty tons, with a steam tender, the Greta, of sixty tons, and run the North German flag up at the fore. The complement of the ship was eight Europeans, twenty Malays from Manila, and about one hundred Chinamen, these last were a motley crew of sailors, laborers, and coolies—the riff-raff of humanity, such as swarm in every Chinese port. With muskets in their hands—it is doubtful whether a dozen of them had ever fired off a gun—they were to form the “forces” or military escort of the expedition, which was to negotiate “treaties,” embark an embassy to travel round the globe, and introduce the Hermit Nation to the world.

The “fleet” left Shanghae April 30, 1867, and steamed to Nagasaki; in which Japanese port she remained two days, taking on board coal, water, and ten cases of muskets. The prow was then headed for Chung-chong province. They arrived in Prince Jerome Gulf at 10 P.M. on Friday, May 8th. The next day at 10 A.M. they moved farther in the river. In the afternoon they succeeded in getting two small boats, or sampans, partly by persuasion and pay, partly by force. The expedition was then organized, Oppert commanding. The mate, engineer, and regular Chinese manned the tender which was to tow the boats. The muskets were unpacked and distributed on deck, and the coolies were armed, equipped, taught the difference between the butt and muzzle of their weapons, and given their orders. Four men carried spades or coal shovels to exhume the bones and treasure.

The French priest who had been in Corea acted as guide and interpreter. Shortly after midnight, and very early on Sunday morning, the steam tender began to move up the river, stopping at a point about forty miles from the sea. The armed crowd landed, and the march across the open country to the tomb was begun. As they proceeded, the neighborhood became alive with [399]curious people, and the hills were white with people gazing at the strange procession. A few natives being met on the way, the French priest stopped to speak with them. The party rested for a while at a temple, for the march was getting tiresome, having already occupied several hours.

Reaching the burial-place [near Totta-san?], they found a raised mound with a slab of stone on each side at the base. Beneath this tomb was the supposed treasure. Was it bones or gold?

The four men with spades now began their work, and soon levelled the mound. They had dug out a considerable quantity of earth, when their shovels struck on a rocky slab, which seemed to be the lid of the tomb proper, or the sarcophagus. This they could not move. All efforts to budge or pry it up were vain. Having no crowbars they were, after much useless labor, with perhaps not a little swearing, compelled to give up their task.

On their return march, the exasperated Coreans, plucking up courage, attempted to molest them, but the marauders, firing their guns in the air, kept their assailants at a respectful distance. The party and tender dropped down the river and rejoined the steamer at noon, the weather being foggy.

Further proceedings of the expedition are known only in outline. The steamer weighed anchor and left for Kang-wa Island. They put themselves in communication with the local magistrate during three days. On the third day a party landed from the ship, and while on shore were fired upon. Two men were killed and one wounded.

The expedition remained in Corea ten days, returning to Shanghae after two weeks’ absence.

In the foregoing trial it is most evident that many details were concealed. The quantity of truth divulged was probably in proportion to the whole amount, as the puffs of steam from a safety-valve are to the volume in the boiler. The accused let out just enough to save them from conviction and to secure their acquittal.

The defendant was discharged with the Scotch verdict “not proven.” Mr. George F. Seward, however, wrote to the State Department at Washington his opinion, that the expedition was “an attempt to take from their tombs the remains of one or more sovereigns of Corea, for the purpose, it would seem, of holding them to ransom.”

Whether any great amount of treasure is ever buried with the sovereigns or grandees of Chō-sen is not known to us. Certain it [400]is that the national sentiment is that of horror against the disturbance or rifling of sepulchres. Now they had before their eyes a fresh confirmation of their suspicions that the chief purpose of foreign invaders was to rob the dead and violate the most holy instincts of humanity. The national mind now settled into the conviction that, beyond all doubt, foreigners were barbarians and many of them thieves and robbers. With such eyes were they ready to look upon the flag and ships of the United States when they came in 1871.

Note.—Nearly every word of the above was written in December, 1877, the information having been derived from the United States Diplomatic Correspondence. At that time we suspected that “Farout” was the fictitious name of Feron, the French Roman Catholic missionary, who had escaped the persecutions of 1866. It seems that three countries and three religions were represented in this body-snatching expedition, which was of a truly international character.

In March, 1880, there was published in London and New York the English translation of “Ein Verschlossenes Land,” a work printed in Germany. As we read “A Forbidden Land: Voyages to the Corea,” it dawned upon us [401]that the author was none other than “the needy Hamburgh trader,” “the Jewish peddler,” of the Consular Court trial of 1867. It was even so. Coolly and without denial, the author tells us that the main object of his last voyage was to “remove” some buried relics held in great veneration by that “blood-thirsty tyrant,” the Tai-wen Kun, or regent. The project was first suggested to him by the French priest, who, as the author takes pains to tell us, was not a Jesuit, nor had ever belonged to that order (p. 295), though he gives Feron’s proposition in his own words (p. 299), the italics being ours:

“If the project I am going to lay before you (i.e., to rob the grave) will at first sight appear to you strange and out of the common, remember that a great aim can never be gained by small means, and that we must look at this affair from another point of view than that which may be taken by narrow-minded people.”

The details of the landing, march [to near Totta-san?], excavation, and retreat are duly narrated, the blame of failure being laid upon one unlucky wight who was “the only disreputable character we had with us!”

After leaving Prince Jerome Gulf, the China proceeded up the Han River to Tricault Island (see map, page 379), “about twenty minutes’ steam below Kang-wha.” There the leader received a note from the Taiouen-goon (the Tai-wen Kun, or regent), the gist of which was, “Corea has no need of foreign intruders.” While holding a parley near the wall of a town on Tricault Island, “the only disreputable character” in the party again got them into trouble. This black sheep was a German sailor, who, hungering after fresh veal, had stolen a calf; an act which drew the fire of the native soldiery on the city wall. The thief received a ball in his arm, which compelled him to drop the calf and run, while one Manilaman was shot dead. It is not known how far the statistics of a Corean warfare diverge from those elsewhere, nor how many tons of lead are required to kill one man, but owing to the incredibly bad aim of the jingal shooters, the remainder of the party of twenty or more escaped their deserts and reached the tender. The next morning the expedition set out on the return to Shanghae.

After a review of this book (in The Nation of April 7, 1880), which the author issued after his imprisonment, the following note appeared in the same paper of April 21st:

Oppert’s Corean Outrage.

To the Editor of The Nation:

Sir: The notice of Oppert’s book on Corea recalls some curious incidents to my mind. The raid on the King’s tomb was one of the most extraordinary affairs ever known. Its inception and failure might have been concealed but for the Coreans, when they attacked the ghouls, killing an unfortunate Manilaman. Hearing of this, the Spanish consul applied to Mr. Seward (United States Consul-General at Shanghae), who at once arrested Jenkins. I was one of the four “associates” summoned to sit with the consul-general in the trial, and well remember what a perfect burlesque it was. The Chinese, who had told a plain and coherent story on preliminary examination, were as dumb as oysters on the stand. When all had been called, the defendant’s counsel said that he would rest his case on their testimony. Conviction was [402]impossible, but in the minds of those informed on the subject, the wickedness of this buccaneering expedition was remembered as surpassing even the absurdity of an attempt to destroy a granite mausoleum with coal shovels. There is a monstrous impertinence in Oppert’s publishing an account of a piratical fiasco which is reported to have cost him a term of imprisonment at home.

A. A. Hayes, Jr.

New York, April 15, 1880.

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