A Western woman poses with three Korean women in the early part of the 20th century. Robert Neff Collection

In 1900, Anna Northend Benjamin, a popular American photojournalist, declared: "We may say without hesitation that the lot of the Korean woman is the most pitiable, just as the position of her people is the most deplorable, in the Far East." She went on to add, "In the lower classes she must work, work, work. In the upper classes she must be entombed."

It isn't clear exactly when Benjamin arrived in Korea, but it was most likely in May 1900. Horace N. Allen, the American minister to Korea, complained in a letter to his sons about having to entertain two groups of visitors from the United States. One group — representatives of Standard Oil — he readily, if grudgingly, entertained (as a favor to his friend) but could not put them up at the American Legation, so he arranged for them to stay at the Station Hotel.

The second group, "headed by a dowdy female newspaper correspondent" made their way to the legation and "deposited their bags and baggage and were determined to stay right with me [Allen] day and night in the most brotherly manner." Allen refused to be imposed upon and promptly sent them on their way.

A postcard of a Korean family in the early 20th century / Robert Neff Collection

According to him, his wife, Fannie, considered their departure as a "narrow escape" for herself, as she did not feel like entertaining anyone. Unfortunately, we only have Allen's account, and he seems to imply Fannie (who was rather submissive) would have been uncomfortable with the aggressive female newspaper correspondent's personality. Although Fannie did have a submissive personality, she was no stranger to confident and domineering women — Isabella Bird Bishop was a very confident and opinionated traveler, but she was also dignified and somewhat posh. I suspect Allen's account is tinged with more than a little exaggeration.

Benjamin and her companions — Dr. Francis E. Clark, his wife, Harriet, and their 12-year-old son, Harold — most likely returned to Jemulpo (modern Incheon) by train later that evening. They likely spent their time sightseeing in the port while their steamship, Ise Maru, transferred cargo. The vessel departed the next day, bound for Vladivostok via Japan, Fusan (modern Busan) and Wonsan.

Benjamin was 25 years old when she arrived in Korea and "had [already] made a name in journalism as an impressive war correspondent, who reached Cuba before the surrender of Santiago and she entered the city the day after it capitulated. In 1899 she again acted as war correspondent in the Philippine Isles, and was the only woman journalist who served in both campaigns." As she was definitely well-known, even in the Hermit Kingdom, it is somewhat surprising her name is conspicuously missing from the letters and diaries kept by Western residents in Seoul. Even Allen failed to mention her in his book, "Korea the Fact and Fancy," a primary source on Westerners living in or visiting the Korean Peninsula up to 1904.

Three young girls are dressed for an outing circa 1900. Robert Neff Collection

Despite Benjamin's short stay, she had a lot to say about Korean women. Considering her fierce independence and perceived feminism, many of the expats — especially conservatives like Allen — were probably uncomfortable with her presence. Perhaps this explains why Benjamin's anecdotes focus upon Fusan where she spent four days with a couple of young missionary women while she waited for her steamer to take her to Vladivostok.

Although Benjamin claimed to have stayed with the women missionaries, another source suggests that she stayed with Dr. Charles H. Irvin and his family. Irvin was somewhat of an outlier of the missionary community: he manufactured and sold his own snake-oil, Man Pyung-Su, ("Cure for Ten Thousand Diseases"), which was mainly a painkiller that "had no curative value." In addition, he was allegedly fond of alcohol and women — but that is a story for another time.

Benjamin described the restrictive lives endured by Korean women, even those of the upper class. The young missionary women managed to convince an upper-class man to give permission to his wife to make a short visit to the Japanese settlement which was about a kilometer distance from their home. Benjamin denounced the upper-class man's house as a "prison" and claimed that the short excursion was an eye-opening experience for the Korean woman who claimed that "for many years she had seen nothing more than the roof of her husband's house. Now she had something to think of until she died."

Christianity and Western ideas were viewed by many Koreans as a threat to their customs and way of life — especially in regard to social and familial norms. A Western male missionary and his Korean protégé, while itinerating in the nearby countryside, were made all too aware of this distrust when they sent for their wives to join them for a couple of days.

A Korean family of the upper class circa early 1900s / Robert Neff Collection

According to Benjamin, the Korean man "had fallen in love with his little wife — a very unusual thing — and, in his treatment of her, wished to emulate the example of his foreign friend."

However, once the Korean woman's father-in-law learned about their plans, he immediately put a stop to it claiming her presence would be considered scandalous. He was concerned that it would humiliate his son, leaving him open to derision from his peers.

Later, the husband sent his wife a letter — through his father — but the poor woman never received it. The old man considered his son's obvious devotion and love for his wife to be "a violation of all Korean customs."

Benjamin denounced the general relationship between Korean men and women. Women are nothing more "than a chattel" to men "a Korean girl has no name. She is known as So-and-So's sister, or So-and-So's mother, when she becomes married and has a son. Her husband calls her by her son's name." Husbands were "entitled to a divorce on the ground of his wife's incompatibility with her mother-in-law."

A young couple in the early 1900s / Robert Neff Collection

This inequality began at birth. "So poor is the estimate of womankind in Korea that the idea of giving a girl any sort of education beyond sewing and household duties is never thought of, though an experiment made by some missionaries in the teaching of girls has been entirely successful, and has proved that they are as capable of learning as the boys."

According to the American correspondent, the only way for a Korean woman to escape "her bondage" was to become a sorceress, Buddhist nun or dancing girl. But even this did not guarantee freedom from men:

"There are ‘play-houses in every city and villages. These consist of a series of buildings which look like a temple, and often they are partly so, for a section of the ‘play-house' is sometimes reserved for an ancestral tablet, though this is always placed in a part entirely separate. At the entrance of the place there is a high wall, and a gate which is kept locked, and the key entrusted to a caretaker who lives in a tiny hut just within. The men gather in these places to smoke, drink, play games and talk. Sometimes dancing girls are hired to perform there. Except for them, the women have no part in the ‘play-house,' for which it would never occur to the men to make any provision for the pleasure of the female portion of the community."

A staged image of two women doing laundry, circa late 19th century / Robert Neff Collection

However, Benjamin conceded that although Korean women were often unhappy, they were "intelligent enough to realize the misery of their position." Unlike their sisters in Japan and China, Korean women when "deeply incensed" had "fits of uncontrolled anger" in which they forgot "the teachings of Confucius, and [their] centuries of subjection," and violently lashed out. "At such a time the [Korean] husband may use much haste and tact in getting out of the way, or he may retaliate by some effective blows, or later by a divorce."

Like many of her articles about Japan and the Philippines, Benjamin urged the women to assert themselves and change their society.

"We have it in us to wish that all Korean womankind would rise up in simultaneous frenzy and trample the old order of things to death under foot. I can imagine the whole army of Korean men scrambling hastily to cover!"

Needless to say, Horace Allen and Anna Benjamin did not share the same opinion.

I would like to express my appreciation to Diane Nars for her invaluable assistance.

Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books, including Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.