# Seoul, the capital of Korea

Fusan, 5 – 8 •
THE
BURTON HOLMES
LECTURES
With Illustrations from Photographs By the Author
COMPLETE IN TEN VOLUMES VOL. X
BATTLE CREEK, MICHIGAN THE LITTLE-PRESTON COMPANY, LIMITED M C M I
COPYRIGHT 1901 BY E. BURTON HOLMES ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
SEOUL, THE CAPITAL OF KOREA
* THE CITY of Seoul is the quaintest I have ever seen. A visit to the Korean capital is one of the choicest tidbits on the menu of modern travel.
* The usual approach to Korea is by way of Nagasaki, in a Japanese steamer which first touches Fusan, a thriving port at the southern end of the peninsula that we call Korea but which is known to the Japanese as "Cho-Sen" – "The Land of the Morning Freshness," and to its own people by
| HIS MAJESTY, THE EMPEROR OF TA-HAN | the newer name of "Ta-han,” recently bestowed upon the land by the present ruler, when, as a result of the war between Japan and China, he found himself monarch of an independent country. He had been formerly King of Korea, vassal to the Emperor of China and to the Mikado of Japan. But on the conclusion of the war, Korea was declared an Empire, with the new title of Ta-han, while the ruler raised himself from the rank of King to that of Emperor, so he might reign in Seoul as the equal of their Imperial majesties of Dai Nippon and of the Middle Kingdom, whose capitals are Tokyo and Peking. The port of Fusan, distant one day's voyage from Nagasaki, is as Japanese in aspect as any city in Japan itself. The houses, shops, and temples are precisely like the houses, shops, and temples of Nagasaki; the people in the streets wear the dress and speak | ONE OF THE IMPERIAL PRINCES |
* the language of the Mikado's land. They have been here in force for more than three hundred years; since the great invasion in 1592 they have never relinquished this foothold on the continent of Asia. Wise indeed in their forethought,
* for there is now a railway in construction that will make this obscure port one of the termini of the Trans-Asiatic line, surpassing Vladivostok and Port Arthur in point of proximity to the main traveled waterways of the Far Eastern Seas.
* But we approach Korea not from the Japanese, but from the Chinese, side. We sail from Taku, Peking’s port; transship at Chi-Fu, and cross the entrance to the Gulf of Pe-chi-li on a steamer of the Nippon Yusen Kaisha – the Royal Mail Line of Japan – for the enterprise of Japan is as conspicuous in Korean waters as upon Korean shores. The ship threads her way toward Chemulpo, the chief port of Korea, through
* an enchanted archipelago – a constellation of shimmering islands set in the placid firmament of a deep, calm, silent sea. Isle after isle glides by – some rocky, savage, and fantastic, some soft, inviting, and luxuriant, but all apparently unpeopled; and the sea itself is lonely as a desert – no signs of life, no ships, no junks; and yet we are within an hour's sail of Korea’s busiest and most important port. Surely the people of Ta-han must fear the sea which washes three sides of their land, or else these waters would not be left for the exclusive furrowing of foreign keels. We are already in full view of Chemulpo before we see the first Korean craft – a sampan that has ventured out to meet the ship. The boatmen, however, do not lack daring, for they drive the little boat full tilt at the passing steamer, strike the hull just forward of the gangway, and then as the big hull brushes past, two men succeed in gripping ropes or railings and swing themselves with monkey-like agility up to the deck. Meantime their fellows have made fast a rope, and the sampan is trailing gaily in our wake at the end of a long tow-line. Other acrobatic sampan men repeat this maneuver, boarding our ship like pirates in their eagerness to
* Boarders
* solicit the patronage of disembarking passengers. Not knowing that a steam-launch is provided by the steamship company, we hire an unnecessary sampan, and then in company with half a dozen other sampans, we go trailing shoreward, towed by the tender to which the crafty skippers have passed their lines, thus saving themselves a long hard pull against the ebbing tide. Thus we approached Chemulpo under the flag of the Royal Japanese mail. We note that the official in the little white gig – the "tide-waiter" of the port, who boards all arriving ships – is a Japanese.In a sampan
* The most conspicuous buildings on the shore are Japanese. A Japanese cruiser is at the outer anchorage. The merchant-ships at the buoys near the town are flying the flag of the Empire of the Rising Sun. But the people on the pier are new to us in costume, speech, and customs. Our acquaintance with the Korean
* people begins at the pier, where native stevedores are loading lighters with sacks of rice for export to Japan.
* Chemulpo is not an ideal port. It is reached by devious and treacherous channels, through a confusing archipelago, where rapid currents due to the phenomenal tides sweep to and fro twice daily, rendering navigation most precarious. At low water scores of junks and even a few small islands are left stranded high and comparatively dry on broad mud flats.
* THE PIER AT CHEMULPO
* The town is semi-European, semi-Japanese. There is a native quarter inconsiderable and unimportant, but it lies far from the landing-pier, and its existence is not at first apparent. There is a so-called European hotel conducted by a Chinese, but we favor the Japanese yadoya, where we find the same attentive service as in Japan, the same dainty little dinners served on tables six inches high, the same soft, matted floors and translucent paper walls. There is nothing about the establishment that is not delightfully Japanese. We forget that we are in Korea, until the next morning when