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| Within the walls of Jeju City circa 1910-1930s Robert Neff Collection |
By Robert Neff
With the increased difficulty in traveling abroad due to the pandemic, many foreigners residing in Korea (as well as Koreans) are flocking to Jeju Island for their holidays. Travel to the island is extremely convenient ― merely a short flight ― but it hasn't always been that way.
In the summer of 1888, Charles Chaille-Long, the secretary of the American legation in Seoul, decided to travel to Jeju for "ethnographical reasons." He sought to find "a clue to the somewhat mysterious origin of the Corean people, whose type, neither Chinese nor Japanese, would seem to point to a composite race formed from the various hardy clans which had followed the standards of the great khan in the overflow of the Manchurian plateau whence had come the Kitain, Mongol, Tartar and Turk, out of which had sprung the Corean."
Chaille-Long was many things ― arrogant, boastful, prone to exaggeration (if not outright lying) and a good storyteller ― but he was not a coward. His trip to Jeju was quite dangerous ― especially when you consider the time of year (typhoon season) and that he made the journey in a small open boat that he had christened "Bravo Maru." The crew of the Bravo Maru was composed mainly of Japanese sailors, and Chaille-Long was rightfully concerned there might be problems with the islanders if they knew there were Japanese aboard the ship. There were several clashes between the Jeju islanders and Japanese fishermen in the years preceding and following his visit.
According to the January 1892 edition of the Korean Repository (an English-language magazine published in Seoul), there were several incidents over the previous year:
"Some over-aggressive Japanese fishermen visited the sacred domain of the [Jeju] fishing-women and with these managed to raise quite a war-cloud. The quondam gynecocracy resorted to violence and a number of lives were lost on each side. For the present, however, the matter has been peaceably laid aside, and attention seems to be directed to those things that promise larger and more wholesome remuneration than war."
As a precaution, Chaille-Long hired Yang Man-tuk, "a tall brigandish looking fellow, apparently 60 years of age" who was a resident of Jeju and a skilled sailor, to act as his guide.
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| Walter Stotzner and his constant companions Courtesy of Diane Nars Collection |
"The little craft when fairly out upon the open sea was shot along upon the rough billows rather than sailed. A big sea was on, and I fully realized the danger as she was followed by both wind and wave, which threatened to topple us over completely. Reef after reef was taken in under the orders of Tuk, who sat the while in the prow serving as ballast as well as pilot, grimly smoking his pipe; Kim and Chung [Chaille-Long's two Korean employees] were much too busy in arranging their accounts with Neptune to note the danger. As for myself, I had ample time to reflect upon the probabilities of reaching Quelpaert, and it was by no means reassuring to see that Tuk had abandoned his pipe and watched carefully the little boat lest she should be swamped."
Fortunately, Tuk was a capable pilot and just about noon the Bravo Maru sailed into the harbor "half drowned with the seas which had washed over [them] during the entire trip." The sea was not their only danger.
Chaille-Long ― aware that first impressions are the most important ― put on his military uniform ("its gold lace and rich braid struck a chord in the fancy" of the islanders) and visited the local magistrate. The magistrate warned him that Jeju was a "forbidden land" and visitors were not welcome. He then demanded to know if the American was a missionary, to which Chaille-Long replied, "Do I look like one?" while pointing at his uniform. His answer and his passport were enough to gain him entry.
However, a decade later, two American missionaries were able to travel to the island without so much drama. They traveled to the island aboard the Chang-riong (a Korean-government steamer) and quickly found lodging in a Korean inn ― they merely had to contend with the constant rain and wind.
"The rain did not stop pouring for seven days and nights. All the time we were shut up in a dark room of just six feet square and less than six feet high. There are many different hardships one undergoes on traveling over Korea, but to be imprisoned in a small room of a Korean hotel for several rainy days is almost more than one can endure. It is impossible to imagine what it is, and one has to experience it personally in order to get some idea of it. During the day it was so dark that we could read with difficulty. To reward ourselves for this we often lit in the evenings our five large candles at once. We got at last so desperate that we almost made up our minds to leave the island, as it seemed the rain was never going to stop. Fortunately on the eighth day it began to clear up and we became more hopeful."
When Malcom P. Anderson, an American zoologist and explorer, visited the island a decade later, he was quite concerned with the condition of the steamship he was to travel on:
"Our craft, sailed by a Japanese skipper with a Korean crew, was a very old and rotten steamer which should have been scrapped ten years before. The boiler was so undependable that it could not carry more than thirty pounds of steam, and the copper bottom was in such ill repair that it hung in loose ragged sheets. We [he and his Japanese companion] noted these defects, but thought little of them, as in our hurry we did not care to take the only alternative means of transportation, a junk which would spend many days on the voyage."
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| Jeju as seen from the West Wall circa 1907-1910 "Forty Days in Quelpart," The Overland Monthly 1914 |
The ship was filled with "peasants and petty merchants" but fortunately he and his companion had cabin tickets so were spared from the masses. But that night they encountered a "blustering wind" and the ship's captain, "with commendable prudence," sought shelter for the ship amongst some islands. Fortunately, after the storm and the subsequent fog abated, the steamer was safely to continue with its journey.
Judging from the above accounts, it appears that as time passed, travel to Jeju Island became easier ― but not necessarily so. When Walter Stotzner, a German explorer and ethnographer, visited the island in 1930, he found himself under intense scrutiny. For his entire time on the island, he was accompanied by a couple of detectives, and on occasion uniformed police as well. According to him, the Japanese government was very suspicious of foreigners ― especially those who sought to see something other than the "large and expensive hotels," as they were suspected of being spies and were "constantly harassed by the Japanese police."
The authorities' suspicion of Stotzner was so severe that at first he was not allowed to take any photographs on the island until he lodged a complaint with his consulate in Seoul (he did this by wire) and subsequently received limited permission to take pictures ― only looking out towards the sea and not the interior of the island.
However, five years later, Sten Bergman, a Swedish explorer and travel writer, seemingly had no problems with the authorities.
Bergman left Mokpo aboard a small steamer in the late afternoon and his voyage was so unremarkable that its description warranted only a couple of short sentences:
"The voyage to [Jeju] took all night. We landed there at six o'clock next morning. I put up at a Japanese hotel in the little town of [Jeju], rested for a couple of hours, and then went out to have a look round."
Of course, Bergman's case was rather unusual as he only stayed on the island for two days. Hardly a threat to the authorities and, judging from his writing, he was more than willing to ingratiate himself with the Japanese government as he had many friends in Japan.
For many of these early visitors, the trip to Jeju was no easy task but was it worth the trouble? Tomorrow we will look at Jeju Island through their eyes.
Note ― These articles are dedicated to Frederic H. Dustin who was born on Jan. 12, 1930 and arrived in Korea in 1952 with the U.S. Army. He returned to Korea in 1955 and, for the most part, stayed here until his death on May 5, 2018. Jeju Island was a dear part of his life and he was an active member of its community for about a half century. There have been many articles published about him ― including "Jeju's renaissance man"and "Koreas last American gold miner in early 1960s." Dustin was a legacy of Jeju.
I would like to thank Diane Nars for her assistance and for allowing me to use her images.
Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books including, Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.
