京城（ソウル）とその周辺

46. Seoul (Keijo) and its Environs.

Arrival. Hotel runners meet trains. Information Bureau and Lunch Room in the Station.

Taxis ply for hire. The usual charge to the hotel (5 min.) is 50 sen. If there is any question about it, submit the matter to the hotel manager.

Motor-car rates by the hour are about 6 yen. Special rates for country trips. The hotel-cars usually are kept in the best condition. Rates the same as others.

Jinrikis ply for hire at from 70 sen to one yen the hour. Consult the hotel manager.

Tramcars run to many parts of the city and suburbs. Cheap and useful.

Hotels. *Chosen Hotel (Tel. add. 'Choho, Keijo'). Best in the city. Recommended. Modern, fire- and earthquake-proof. Member of the Japan Hotel Association. Many comforts and modern conveniences. Telephones, radio, moving pictures, good food, and service. English spoken. The manager, Mr. J. Sakai, is well known for his ability to please foreign guests. Consult him about sight-seeing plans.

Rates, American Plan. Single room from 8 yen a day and up. With private bath, from 11 yen. Double room from yen 16.50 and up. With private bath from yen 19.50. Special terms for a long stay. Meals only: Breakfast, yen 1.75. Tiffin, yen 2.50. Dinner, yen 3.

The Japan Tourist Bureau, helpful friend of the traveler throughout the Far East, has a branch in the Railway Building Bureau. English spoken. Guides, guidebooks, maps, plans, etc. Railway Tickets. Free information.

Banks. The Bank of Chosen (Pl. B, 3). — Consulates from many countries.

Seoul (pron. soul, or sow-ohl) or Keijo (kay-jo), a one-time walled city with a population (Japanese, Koreans, Mongols, etc.) of approx. 302,000, stands on the N. side (2 M. distant) of the swift Han River (120 ft. above it and 35 M. from its mouth), in the heart (Kyongkwi Province) of the ancient Kingdom of Korea (lat. 37° 35' N., and long. 127° 0' E. from Greenwich), is one of the most picturesque and romantically situated mediaeval capitals of Eastern Asia. It was founded (in 1392) by the Emperor Yi Taijo under the name of Hanyang (‘Fortress on the Han’), but it is generally known as Seoul (‘capital’), the Japanese equivalent for which is Keijo. As the political, intellectual, educational, and commercial center of the country, with (so-called) palaces, art, and industrial museums, libraries, botanical and zoological gardens, colleges, banks, electric lights, street-cars, and telephones, and many additional adjuncts of a modern and progressive metropolis, it is Korea to most foreigners, since it represents in the large everything Korean; much as Tokyo represents N. Japan. For upward of 8 centuries it was the home of the concubine-loving Korean sovereigns, and few cities have seen more maladministration, cruelty, rioting, and bloodshed.

For almost that length of time it was a sort of cancerous growth

that choked the national ambition and sapped the life-blood of the people — a poisonous blight on all progress and civilization. To-day it is the center whence all benefits and reforms radiate. The Japanese Governor-General dwells here, and from the Residency the affairs of the nation are administered. The situation of the old capital (2 by 2 M.), in a broad valley (5 M. long by 3 broad) surrounded by rugged hills that tower in somber grandeur above it, is very attractive. From the highest of these (N.) hills, the San-kak-san or Three-peaked Mountain (2,270 ft.), — which foreigners know as the Cock’s Comb, — one may enjoy a magnificent panorama of the wide city with its mushroom-like houses and the lordly Han flowing broadly to the sea. From a military viewpoint the city is considered strong both in itself and in its stern outposts. Arid and forbidding as the hills look in winter, spring and summer find them clothed in delicate green enlivened here and there by great blotches of heliotrope, azalea, fragrant honeysuckle, and (in season) the beautiful blossoms of the plum, the peach, and the cherry. Many poplar trees, Chinese pines (Pinus sinensis), and flowering shrubs thrive in the warm pockets of the hills — invisible to the eye until one approaches closely — while at their feet the lotus-pools (in Aug.) are worth going far to see. The tall mountain to the S. of the capital long served as a signal-station on which bonfire messages were received from the southern provinces.

For purposes of civic administration the city is divided into five quarters: Tosho (East), Seisho (West), Hokusho (North), Nansho (South), and Chusho (Middle). The 85,000 or more Japanese who add life, energy, and color, and the 6,000 Chinese who impart an odor not strictly one of sanctity, dwell in the Honmachi district (the Chinkokai of the Koreans) in the S. quarter. The Legation Quarter (Chong-dong) with its many trees, its ugly hybrid houses, its park-like gardens, and elevated sites, stands at the W. extremity of the city, inside the wall, near the W. Gate and the Seidaimon Station; many of the 300 or more foreign residents dwell here and just outside the wall, beyond which the country drops away abruptly and affords pleasing and far-reaching views over the deep and wide intervening valley. Around the city proper, inclosing intramural Seoul, climbing up and down the precipitous slopes and laying its brown, weather-beaten, and sinuous lengths over the hills like some great dragon, is the battlemented wall described hereinafter. A long, wide (100 ft.) street, Chon-no (pron. Chongno) or Big Bell St. (Jap. Shoro), divides the city practically in halves and leads from the E. to the W. Gate, then far into the country, through extra-mural Seoul at either side. It is essentially the main street of Korea, for here one may study the natives and their ways to the best advantage. Scattered along its length are some of the chief ‘sights’ and the best of the

Korean shops, most of the latter mean and tawdry and out of keeping with the width of the thoroughfare. The majority of the shops are dedicated to a trivial commerce in ironware as crude as that which Vulcan forged, in junk of various kinds; horn and tortoise-shell goggles much affected by the alleged literati and official class; coarse earthenware; cheap native-made knives and pipes; paper-goods and matting; tin lamps and candle-sticks; cumbersome saddles with green and red leather flaps embossed with brass rosettes; and imported textiles whose colors maintain a perpetual warfare. Up and down this brilliant, sunlit metropolitan thoroughfare flows a steady and kaleidoscopic stream of native life which contrasts strangely with the modern electric street-cars and other evidences of Western progress.

Tall, top-knotted Koreans with straggling goatees similar to those pictured on Uncle Sam of the U.S.A.; with fly-trap hats, baggy clothes and a frank air of laziness and poverty; and olive-skinned women clad in the picturesque habiliments of the old days, are familiar figures on the thoroughfares, and they strike a note different from that observable in any other country of the opulent East. They and the many other bizarre sights and sounds impart to the streets a strange blend of gaiety and sobriety, of modernity and medievalism, of the Orient and the Occident. Fine modern buildings erected by the Japanese suggest that Chosen in time will occupy her right place among the countries of the Far East. For the first time in its history it is now well governed.

Paralleling Chon-no on the S. are the ruins of a sometime crystal brook, now defiled in a loathsome manner and spanned by a number of archaic stone bridges, one known as the Chicken Bridge, because the chicken-market is held near it. On the banks of this fetid stream scores of the native women work out their destiny by washing their lords' frowsy and voluminous clothes; pounding the hard bundles with wooden rollers on stones until a fine gloss like that of mercerized cotton is produced. They are characteristic features not only of Seoul but of all Korea, for wherever there is a runnel or a festering pool there women drudges foregather, ladle up the malodorous water, roll the yellowish-white garments into sizable bundles, then batter them into cleanliness. The sound of their tapping clubs is a familiar one in the ‘Land of the Morning Calm.' A little farther to the S. stretches one of the chief Japanese thoroughfares, the Honcho-dori (Main St.; also called Honmachi), narrower, busier, cleaner, more cheerful and inviting than the Korean street, but less interesting because more modern. It curves gracefully round the base of a small bit of transplanted Tokyo called Nam-san (Nam Hill), on which stand several imposing governmental buildings, conspicuous among them the Sotokufu or Residency General. Here there is a pretty public

garden, and hereabout Japan blazes forth in all its riot of color and picturesqueness. In no quarter of Seoul is the stress of Occidental civilization and progress so apparent as here, and from daylight until dusk long lines of busy people, postmen on bicycles, delivery carts being pedaled along by bareheaded boys, straining bulls, foreigners, Japanese, Koreans, Manchus, and Cantonese pulse through its restricted channel. The most objectionable and savagely noisy segments of the daily procession are the strapped, muzzled, and contumacious Korean ponies, against which the traveler should always be on his guard. They rarely lose a chance to bite the unsuspecting stranger and they are equally diligent with their heels or fore feet.

The Korean Pony (prototype of the Japanese pony) is one of the most salient features of Korea. ‘The breed is peculiar to it. The animals used for burdens are all stallions, from 10 to 12 hands high, well formed, and singularly strong, carrying from 160 to 200 lbs. 30 M. a day, week after week, on sorry food. They are most desperate; squealing and trumpeting on all occasions, attacking every pony they meet on the road, never becoming reconciled to each other even on a long journey, and in their fury ignoring their loads, which are often smashed to pieces. Their savagery makes it necessary to have a mapu for every pony. At the inn stables they are not only chained down to the troughs by chains short enough to prevent them from raising their heads, but are partially slung at night to the heavy beams of the roof. Even under these restricted circumstances their cordial hatred finds vent in hyena-like yells, abortive snaps, and attempts to swing their hind legs round. They are never allowed to lie down, and very rarely to drink water, and then only when freely salted. Their nostrils are all slit in an attempt to improve upon nature and give them better wind. They are fed three times a day on brown slush as hot as they can drink it, composed of beans, chopped millet-stalks, rice-husks, and bran, with the water in which they have been boiled. Every attempt at friendliness is resented with teeth and heels. When descending a steep hill the mapus hold the ponies by their tails!'

Honcho-dori is as innocent of sidewalks as a country lane, but facing it, beside the many branch stores from Osaka and Tokyo, are the sub-offices of two of the greatest corporations of the world: The Standard Oil Co. of New York, and the Mitsui Bussan Kaisha of Tokyo. At its junction with Nandaimon-dori stands the costly (2 million yen) and imposing Chosen Ginko (Bank of Korea), completed in 1912 and forming, with its splendidly massive gray granite walls and glistening copper-sheathed domes, a landmark in the vicinity. It is the newest and finest of all the city banks, and once within its spacious and elaborate interior the visitor finds it difficult to convince himself that he is not in New York. The immediate neighborhood is the liveliest in the city, and the hucksters who trot along the street uttering their strange cries add to the universal din. Here the Japanese demonstrate their right to be the ruling race by intelligence and progress, and many Koreans cluster as near as possible to them for the protection they feel is assured them.

From each of the two great arteries mentioned there radiates a labyrinth of narrow, tortuous streets flanked by Korean, Japanese, and Chinese shops and factories. Not a few of the

city byways are still unpaved, dirty alleys whose emphatic quality during the dry season is dust, and during and after the rainy season sticky mud. Most of them are concrete illustrations of the fact that when left to themselves the Koreans become very soiled children of the soil, and dwell in a general abominableness repulsive to Westerners. The slimy and fetid runlets which ooze past their rickety doors and the microbic refuse-heaps piled high beneath the low straw eaves speak no language to them. — The broad, well-paved street which goes past the Nandaimon Gate and Station, and connects the city with the new Japanese suburb of Ryuzan (linked also by rly. and trolley), is Furuichi-cho; cityward from the gate to its intersection with Honcho-dori, and later with Chon-no, it is called Nandaimon-dori. It has been recently widened and paved, and it is significant of what the chief thoroughfares of the metropolis will be a few years hence.

The Legation Quarter (Pl. B. 3) is perhaps the healthiest of the city — a blend of town and country. Most of the houses stand back in fine spacious gardens reached through lanes between high and massive walls. In spring and summer one is awakened early by the strident chattering and wrangling of magpies; the melodious call of the cuckoo; the incessant twittering and chirping of small birds and insects; the hoarse calling of geese; the crowing of a myriad cockerels; and not unfrequently by the grunting or squealing of the young bears of which certain of the people are fond and which are a product of the country. The entire section is embowered in beautiful flowers and poplars, Paulownia imperialis, pines, and other trees, and the freshness and beauty of the early mornings are inspiring.

The Walls and Gates. Few objects in the Far East are more impressive or more distinctively mediaeval than the crumbling, crenelated wall (Korean, song; Jap. heki), which is 25-40 ft. high and which runs for 14 M. like a girdle about the inner city. No less picturesque are the eight huge pavilioned gateways which pierce it, and the great arches that span the streams crossed in its course. The Emperor Yi Taijo caused it to be built soon after he fixed his new capital here in 1392, and history records that 200,000 men were drawn in from the different provinces to work on it. Like the Great Wall of China (from which it manifestly was copied) it stops not at mts., but climbs them sturdily (to a height of 1130 ft. at the N.), coiling about them like some sinuous and sinister dragon; following the irregularities of the ridges before dipping into some deep valley or disappearing behind some spur later to reappear on a higher, projecting ridge. Small sections have been demolished to make way for the expansion of the modern city; others are falling inward, and still others are used as foot-paths or planted with

flowers and vegetables by those whose houses back up against

it; but the remainder is preserved in its pristine crudity. What it has lost in strength it has gained in picturesqueness, for long stretches are almost covered with clinging ivy, and where the accumulated moss of centuries spots its sides it makes a striking feature in a striking landscape. From below it looks like a solid and formidable mass of cyclopean masonry, for numerous direct and oblique embrasures pierce it and recall the time when bold archers trod its high parapets and launched feathered shafts and javelins over the ramparts at advancing foes. Through these loopholes one gets entrancing views of distant valleys and mts. and from the top still wider ones. The wall proper is 12-15 ft. through and consists of a bank of earth faced with masonry, of varying heights. The stones which form the outer veneer are about 3 ft. sq. and 15 in. thick, and are crowned by cut granite blocks or coping-stones grooved in the center, set on a slight incline, and measuring approximately 5 ft. wide, 12-15 ft. long, and from 6 to 36 in. thick. The traveler with time to spare will not regret an early morning stroll along the crest of this ancient fortification built a hundred yrs. before Columbus discovered America. That part near the W. Gate, 5 min. from the hotel, is easily accessible. Ascend between the gate and the police-box at the right. There are none to question or to demand fees.

The Gates (Korean, moon; Jap. mon) are huge, cumbersome affairs, heavily bossed and strengthened with massive and badly rusted iron sheathing, strips, and bolts, swung on huge pivots let into soffits above and below, — after the manner of old Spanish-Moorish seignorial houses, — and set in solid arches of cut gray granite blocks, some of them 10 ft. long and almost as thick. They are interesting specimens of the crude workmanship of the early Chosenese — more picturesque than handsome, and in this progressive 20th cent, more ornamental than useful. Surmounting the arches are massive, two-storied, quadrilateral, temple-like structures, with uptilted tiled roofs, enriched with a maze of faded compound brackets and dingy polychromatic decorations — conspicuous among which in white and black, is the Life Principle already referred to. Anciently they were used for the barbaric dramas enacted by masked musicians, sorcerers, and the like whenever the Emperor went abroad or visited extra-mural Seoul. Certain of the gates have grandiloquent titles that accord illy with their dilapidated appearance; as, ‘Benevolence,’ ‘Bright Amiability,’ ‘Exalted Politeness,’ ‘Gate of Elevated Humanity,’ and the like.

The Nandaimon (Korean, Nam Tai Moon), or S. Gate, near the rly. station of the same name (Pl. B, 3), is the most attractive and the best preserved. Like certain others it is reserved for pedestrians only, and one will scarcely see a more picturesque sight than the stream of variegated humanity that pulses through it on a bright day, — Korean men in white, and

women in green garments; Chinese in blue gowns; Japanese in sundry vivid colors and conventional black; and native children in their brown ‘birthday’ suits. — The archway is immensely solid (39 ft. deep; 16 wide and 20 high), iron-studded and with the ear-marks of great antiquity. The lower stone wall, the electric light shafts, and the parterres are modern. The superstructure is in only tolerable repair and is inaccessible to visitors. Those interested in seeing one of the pavilions are recommended to inspect one or more of those described hereinafter. The

Seidaimon (Su Tai Moon), or W. Gate (Pl. B, 2), for centuries the entrance to the capital for travelers from Chemulpo, and which for many years after the Japanese occupation marked a specified quarter of the old metropolis, has gone the way of many of the old relics, and has been demolished. New, clean, wide streets have replaced the narrow, tortuous and not always clean lanes that formerly intersected the region. The views over the countryside hereabout are extensive.

Not long ago, when the Big Bell sounded the requiem of the setting sun, all the city gates were closed, and the dilatory and luckless wight who reached one of them a minute late might beat on their knurled surfaces until his knuckles bled and the tigers came and carried him off, for nary a soul would open them as much as an inch. At that period the wall was intact, but despite this tigers and leopards leaped it and frequently took a nightly quota from among the trembling citizens of the inclosure.

The North Palace (Kyong-pok Koong), in the N.W. quarter (Pl. B, 2) at the foot of the frowning Pook Han Hill, comprises a group of over-decorated buildings (said to date from the 15th cent.) in an immense wall inclosure 5 min. walk N. of Chon-no St.

In striking contrast to them is the new, handsome and commodious building of the Government General of Chosen, erected in western style adapted to local conditions and climate, and one of the finest structures in the city.

The wide Kokamon Gate, recently taken down and rebuilt on the eastern side of the palace, is of interest for its peculiar architecture. It is of massive proportions, with various quaint features.

Many of the fitments of the old Palace have been sadly mauled by time, and in consequence are of little interest. In no sense is the structure as artistic as other superior and similar ones in Japan. While they recall certain buildings in Nikko, they possess little of the inalienable charm of those splendid structures. The traveler will note a similarity in the architectural motives of many of the Korean and Japanese temple and palace fitments and embellishments; not a few of them having reached Japan through Korea.

The mythological phoenixes (fung-wang) are Korean

emblems of peace and good government. — The Main Palace stands at the foot of a succession of wide, grass-grown, flagged inclosures marked by faded gates and indifferently carved stone balustrades. The stone animals in the act of peering into the verdure-choked runnel of the second compound are curious. The 3d gate gives ingress to an inclosure with a two-storied ancestral temple rising from a double plinth encircled by sculptured stone fences showing traces of art. The compound brackets of the eaves, the huge sloping roof, and the general exterior decorations are mediocre. A vacant shrine stands within. The tall Indian-red pillars support a ceiling smudged by the incense of ages and covered with tawdry decorations. Passing through two more inclosures, each with its deserted shrines, then through a low gateway at the left, we cross a stone bridge flung across a lily- and lotus-flecked moat to

The Keikairo, known variously as the Summer Pavilion, Hall of Congratulations, and Audience Hall, a draughty, quadrilateral, dilapidated structure supported by 8 rows of 6 each square and round gray granite columns with metal sheaths instead of capitals. A beautiful lotus-pond stretches beyond to a pine-clad strip with many flowering trees and shrubs. Water completely surrounds the edifice, like certain of the floating palaces of India, and granite steps lead down to the lakelet on which royal boats once floated. The supports of the carefully chiseled stone balustrade girdling the building carry lotus-leaf designs. Many bird notes fill the air, and a gentle melancholy broods above the place. Here the palace ladies formerly loved to congregate and to enjoy the reflection of the myriad lotuses which waved and nodded above the rippleless pool. — A deserted garden, now choked with underbrush, stretches away to the rear of the palace buildings, and near the back gate, on a spot then covered with a small hut since destroyed, a cruel tragedy was enacted before dawn on Oct. 8, 1895.

Because of her unusual intelligence and her skill in placing members of her own family in nearly all the offices of State, the Korean Queen was a thorn in the side of certain Court intriguers, particularly Tai Won Kun (the King's father; died 1898) who ruled with excessive vigor for 10 yrs., put 2000 Korean Catholics to death in 1868, and won the title of a ‘man with bowels of iron and a heart of stone.’ By unscrupulous ability and rapaciousness he gained the support of certain unpatriotic Japanese, and on the morning in question, at the head of a mixed band of miscreants, he suddenly stormed the palace, intimidated the King, and by mistreating certain of the palace ladies, made them disclose the hiding-place of their royal mistress. 'In the upper story the Crown Princess was found with several ladies, and she was dragged by the hair, cut with a sword, beaten, and thrown downstairs. The Queen, flying from the assassins, was overtaken and stabbed, falling down as if dead; some one then jumped on her breast and stabbed her through and through with a sword. She was then carried to a grove of pines in the adjacent park, kerosene oil was poured over the body, which was surrounded by fagots and burned, only a few small bones escaping destruction. Thus perished, at the age of forty-four, by the hands of assassins, the clever, ambitious, intriguing, fascinating, and in many respects lovable Queen of Korea.' What remained of the poor stricken body was gathered up and later buried beneath the tomb mentioned hereinafter.

The Big Bell (chong or chon) stands at the intersection of the Nandaimon-dori and the Chon-no (Pl. B, 2) in a rude, slatted, and time-stained pavilion called the Chong-kak. It is of cast bronze, 10 ft. high by 8 wide (weight unknown), and is said to be the 3d largest in the world — which is doubtful. It is easily the largest in Korea, and it bears the following inscription: ‘Sye Cho the Great, 12th year Man cha and moon, the 4th year of the great Ming Emperor Hsuan-hua, the head of the bureau of Royal despatches, Sye Ko Chyeng, bearing the title Sa Ka Chyeng, had this pavilion erected and this bell hung.' According to an authority it was cast in 1396 and hung in its present place in 1468. The metal of which it was cast failed to fuse until a living child had been tossed into the molten mass, from which circumstance the Koreans claim that the wailing of a child can always be detected in its notes. Its dull, heavy boom is heard in all parts of the city, and its warning tones have been the signal for the opening and closing of the gates during five centuries. Formerly at 8 or 9 o'clock, when darkness had fallen, this great curfew was rung as a signal to all the men that they must hurry home, seclude themselves, and give the women a chance to come out and amuse themselves. Drastic punishment was the reward for failure to obey; the custom fell into disuse when Europeans came to live in the capital. The spot on which the bell kiosk stands is regarded as the center of the old city. The inclosed Monument somewhat to the W. of the big bell, on the Chon-no (N. side), was erected by Tai Won Kun in 1866, after the Korean repulse of a feeble attempt made by the French to get satisfaction for the murder of French missionaries. The inscription is significant of the tyrant: ‘Whosoever pronounces even the name of a European is a traitor to his country.'

The Marble Pagoda (Pl. C, 2), in Pagoda Park, 5 min. walk E. from the big bell, stands on the N. side of Chon-no St. in a pretty park with attractive iron gates. If these are closed, entrance can be gained through the wooden gate at the left. The custodian's house (no fees) is just within. The pagoda, a curious Buddhist relic in the Dravidian style modified by Chinese sculptors, is said to have been presented to a Korean King by a Chinese emperor in the 13th cent. Originally 11 stories high, it is now in a lamentable state of decay; the topmost sections have fallen and lie near the base. The sculptures in low relief represent Buddhist votaries traveling toward nirvana, surrounded by tigers, dragons, and many figures of the Buddhist pantheon. Time and the elements have dealt less kindly with this curious relic of Indian-Chinese art than with the huge stone tortoise hard by, the chiseled lotus leaf on the back of which proclaims its Buddhistic significance. It is 14 ft. long by 9 ft. broad, and it rests in a sunken space 18 by 15 ft.; rising from its back is a stone shaft capped by a sculptured entangle-

ment of writhing dragons in bold design. It is evidently a tomb, as the tortoise forms the material for a number of pleasing superstitions peculiarly acceptable to the Korean habit of thought.

The *East Palace (Chang-tok Koong) stands in the N.E. quarter of the city, immediately S. of the Museum (Pl. C, 2), at the top of a short street (Yokamon-dori) which leads N. from Chon-no a short distance beyond (E.) the Marble Pagoda. The palace and grounds are closed to the general public, but a card of admission can be obtained through one’s consul or upon application to the Gov’t General. One hour is sufficient for an inspection of the buildings and grounds — which are worth seeing. Fees are refused by the palace guide and should not be proffered. Travelers usually indicate beforehand the hour of their arrival and the (English-speaking) guide will be found in readiness just within the gate, near the new administration building — the guards of which challenge visitors unsupplied with the necessary permit. The main building dates from the 17th cent, but has been frequently repaired and recently re-decorated. The exterior is profusely adorned in clashing colors. The tiled roof with deep eaves has elaborately painted carved beams carrying terminal enrichments showing the 5-petal plum blossom — the old dynastic emblem. The detached building at the rear of the main structure, an excellent example of first-class Korean workmanship, has strikingly decorative peacock-blue tiles, and formerly was the home of the Emperor. When not in the New Palace in the Legation Quarter, he is supposed to abide in the low house at the right. The prevailing tones of the interior decorations are red, gray, and black; the structure is erected around a hollow square, similar to the old imperial buildings at Kyoto. Save for a stone fountain the central patio is bare. The long hall into which the visitor is conducted first is carpeted with imported linoleum; from this one usually enters a public dining-room, decorated in tawdry and doubtful taste. The low waiting-room is a polychromatic maze of bewildering colors, not very subdued, but relieved here and there by sculptured phoenixes and plum-blossom crests. From it one proceeds to the vast and lofty Throne Room, 60 or more ft. high, embellished in many colors. Fourteen immense wood columns 2 ft. in diameter, and many pilasters, all painted a rich Indian red, support the coffered ceiling, each panel of which is adorned with a painted phoenix: the wide central sunken panel displays two gorgeous gold phoenixes in high relief, surrounded by wave patterns in polychrome tints. This design is duplicated in a richer and more

decorous way in the fine panel above the throne. The extraordinarily fine hangings are of rich yellow and gold brocade woven on Kyoto looms. At the back are two large phoenixes (one with a peacock’s outspread tail) painted in pleasing colors

on a gold-lacquered panel 20 by 20 ft. Beneath are four curious wood panels ornamented in colors with mythological phoenixes, dragons, and tortoises. The imperial insignia worked in relief on the silk curtains in gold are striking. The beautiful gold peacock screen at the left is worth noting* The massive and graceful chair which forms the throne is of rich yellow silk velvet and gold, with imperial plum blossoms worked in gold on the arms and legs, and the Yang and Yin of the Chinese. The exquisite dark-blue cloisonne vases at the right and left, portraying white flowers and birds, were presented by the late Prince Ito. Singularly out of place amid the luxurious fitments of the room are the 14 brass gas-heaters of foreign provenience. The hardwood floor is polished to a high degree of luster and slipperiness. The medley of wall-decoration is not in the best taste.

Adjoining the Throne Room is the smaller, similarly decorated Audience Room, with some rich and costly screens and some spindly, upholstered French furniture. The screen in front of the yellow silk hangings at the left cost ¥2000 and is a marvel of richness; the panel at the right, with the cock and hen, plum blossoms, and camellias, symbolizes Spring. That with the wistaria, lilies, and cranes is emblematic of Summer. Autumn is represented by autumn leaves, chrysanthemums, and pheasants fashioned with marvelous fidelity to nature. The dissolution of the summer glories and the advent of Winter is represented by a panel displaying ducks, winter berries, and flowers. The base of the screen is beautifully inlaid with rich yellow gold and madreperl, and edged with chased gold filigree. The dominant ground note of all the panels is a delicate pearl gray. The other screen, displaying strikingly handsome Japanese cranes on a mauve ground, cost ¥1500. — Traversing a long hall in which there are several excellent old Chinese and Japanese screens, we come to

The Reception Hall, with some more costly screens and a noteworthy peacock panel suspended against the wall; the fastenings of the windows and partitions are fine Korean brasswork. The bronze statuette on its pedestal (said to be over a thousand yrs. old) was a gift from the Emperor of Italy to the ex-Emperor of Korea for his consideration toward certain Italian subjects. The long screen behind it, adorned with apricot blossoms, is of Korean make. — Leaving the palace we bear to the left and proceed to the Imperial Summer House, in the spacious, flower-decked garden. In spring the place is redolent of fragrance and beautiful with blossoming cherries; in summer lilies and lotuses impart their special charm, and in autumn the reddening maples are of a gorgeousness difficult to portray. The grounds are very extensive, and fine walks lead to and fro across them. In one of the little houses silk-worms were for-

merly reared by the Empress; at the far end of the park is a

special summer-house where the Crown Prince used to receive the ministers and nobles. The visitor is conducted finally to a charmingly reposeful little hexagonal summer-house overlooking a lovely pond spanned by a quaint bridge — a flower-decked retreat in strange contrast to the baldness of the Korean streets. To this spot a special aromatic tea accompanied by cakes is brought from an adjacent house, and served on spotless linen spread upon a Western table. Far back of the tea-house, at the end of a secluded walk which winds through forest glades and maple groves, is a pretty dell with a running brook near it — the special retiring place of His Majesty. If the guide is complacent he will lead the visitor through a gateway to the grounds of the museum and the botanical garden before conducting him to the entrance.

The *Seoul Art Museum (Hakubutsukwan), the Botanical Garden (Shokubutsuen), and the Zoological Garden (Dobutsu-en) are all in one wide inclosure just N. of the East Palace garden (Pi. C, 2), and are reached through a short street (the Genkwa-mon-dori) which leads N. (tram-cars) from Chon-no St. (5 min. walk) at a point a short way E. of Pagoda Park and the E. Palace entrance; they were established in 1908 and are open daily (admission, 10 sen) from 9 to 4. The entrance to the museum grounds is on the left side of the st., and when one stands within the gateway the museum is straight ahead, the botanical garden is at the right, and the Zoo at the left; all are in a state of development and change. The museum exhibits at present displayed in the rather shabby detached buildings are destined later to be assembled and united in one or more larger and more commodious structures. No effort is here made to describe the collection in detail; it is decidedly inferior to the customary splendid ancient and modern art objects one usually sees in the museums of Japan. There are strangely few antiquities of artistic or intrinsic worth, despite the oft-repeated assertion that Korea was the fountainhead whence the wonderful artisans of Old Japan drew their inspiration. Few of them are comparable to the early achievements of the Nipponese. Most of the specimens of old work date from periods between the 9th and 14th centuries. There are some attractive bits of gold, bronze, brass, and lacquer inlaid with madreperl, conspicuous among the latter, several chests, trays, and what-not strikingly like certain of the pieces in the Nara and Tokyo museums. The bronze mirrors are chiefly of Chinese origin and are unequivocally the prototypes of those so prominent in Japan in the pre-Meiji era. The hall in which the small but interesting collection of old Buddhas (many of Indian origin) are kept is worth looking into, as it contains also a display of early jewelry. Certain of the old monochrome and polychrome pictures, chiefly in makemono and kakemono form, are scarcely distinguishable, to the casual

eye, from the Japanese and Chinese work. Certain of the court scenes, landscapes, portraits of Buddhist priests and sages, and the like, are noteworthy in conception and technic and show the work of true artists on their ancient surfaces. The collection of palanquins, singularly crude vehicles, arms, and royal trappings is more picturesque than artistic. The mineral specimens and the stuffed birds, animals, and fishes need not detain one. The numerous glass cases containing early pottery, porcelain, and stoneware are not without interest. Certain of the rare celadon pieces are grim relics of an era when it was customary to fill them with food and water and place them in tombs or mounds where aged or infirm persons had been left to die a lingering death. The gray Mishimade-ware is so called because the stripes resemble those of the Mishima Almanac published anciently by the Mishima Myojin Temple (in Japan). All the pieces are immeasurably superior to present-day productions. The fictitious value placed upon some of these old Korean bits by Japanese enthusiasts was exemplified at a recent auction sale in Osaka, when a mound-bowl, once the property of a Korean emperor, and with an intrinsic value of perhaps 15 yen, sold for ¥90,000! — The blue-and-white porcelain of the Ri Dynasty is interesting. Most of the specimens of white glazed stoneware were taken from tombs dating from a.d. 900 to 1400. — The buildings on a low terrace at the upper end date from 1911.

The Botanical Garden is laid out in the formal Japanese style, with lakelets, artistic bridges, etc., and is being stocked gradually with rare plants. The fine glassed-in greenhouse contains a number of beautiful orchids. The cherry blooms in April and the maple leaves in Nov. attract many persons. — The Zoo contains the usual assortment of animals from rodents to elephants, besides some splendid Korean tigers, leopards, and bears. — The Imperial Library in course of construction will

contain, among other things, some rare Korean and Chinese manuscripts from the monasteries on Diamond Mt.

The Queen's Tomb (Seiryori), about 1 M. N.E. of the Todaimon (Tong Tai Moon) Gate (Pl. D, 2) at the E. outskirt of the city, can be reached easily and quickly (tram-car in 20 min.; fare, 15 sen; 2 hrs. should be allowed for the round trip) by boarding a car on Chon-no and proceeding to a point near the terminus, outside the gate. It stands on the terraced slope of a high hill 20 min. walk (over a straight road) to the left of the car-track, behind a group of shrines. Encircling it is a row of crudely chiseled grotesque figures of Chinese sages, lions, ponies, sheep, etc. A slab of finely sculptured granite 2 ft. thick, 6 ft. wide, and 12 ft. long stands before the mound and rests upon 4 stone drums. The general effect is bizarre and puerile. The caretaker expects a small fee (10-20 sen is ample). — The dilapidated, and uninteresting Temple of the Chinese

God of War just outside the Todaimon Gate is not worth wasting time over. — The so-called Temple of Heaven, a worthless structure in the W. quarter of the city (Pl. B, 3), played its part during the old regime and fell into decay along with it.

The New Imperial Palace (Kyong Kyu) stands in the Legation Quarter (Pl. B, 3) in a wide compound entered through several massive gateways which recall certain of the Buddhist temple gates of Japan. The florid decorations are in atrocious taste and are less interesting than the many involved brackets whose salient members suggest exaggerated calipers and attest their Buddhist origin. The left (side) gate has recently been painted in colors so flamboyant that even the brilliant Korean sun seems unable to tame them. The palace proper, a pretentious gray granite Ionicized structure (dating from 1906), two-storied, with lines of fluted columns on three sides and Greek vases on the low roof, stands far back from the street, behind high masonry walls, and is not open to the public. It occupies the site of an original detached Korean-style edifice erected soon after the flight of the Emperor to the Russian Legation (in 1895) and burned in 1904; the interior fitments were furnished by Maple & Co. of London, and cost about 3 million yen. In the back yard is a striking shaft adorned with a group of bronze dragons. The English Consulate stands just back of the palace inclosure, and the American at the left of it.

Walks and Excursions. The environs of Seoul possess a wildness peculiarly pleasing to the stranger; within an hour’s walk of the capital, one finds districts as primitive as though they were a thousand miles from civilization. The people are gentle and kindly disposed, though usually ignorant of any English word. Many of the old customs prevail, and if the foreigner addresses a woman, in all probability she will turn and flee from him as if he were the ‘Old Scratch’ in person; the scrawnier and more uncomely the woman, the shyer and more timid she usually appears! Strangers who knock at house doors or cross land to seek information from unattended females are apt to wound the susceptibilities of the people. Albeit the country is safe, foreign ladies who object to rude curiosity should go attended by some one — if only a coolie or a jinrikiman from the hotel. The fortresses which crown the summits of certain of the environing mts. are picturesque relics of the old days, but are scarcely worth visiting.

Independence Arch, and the White Buddha. The former stands on the Peking Road in extra-mural Seoul 15 min. walk beyond the W. Gate (Pl. A, 2). The walk to the latter is one of the most interesting in the environs, since it affords a good glimpse of Korean country and (on the return) a magnificent view over the city from the heights behind it. — From the gate the road slopes sharply into the valley to (5 min.) a wide

unpaved street leading to the right. Several of the consulates are hereabout, and near them are pretty flower-embowered villas of foreign residents. The primitive houses which flank the Peking Road are scarcely better than the homes of the contemptible little black pigs for which Korea is known. The curious establishments where the huge draft bulls are trussed and shod, resemble primitive bear-traps; half a dozen men are required to manage the unwieldy animals. The wares in some of the shops are kept in pottery jars as big as those in which the ‘Forty Thieves' were boiled in oil. Korean ineptitude is curiously manifest in certain of the processes of daily life, and the leisurely traveler finds much to interest him hereabout.

The Arch is a somewhat tawdry affair of gray granite with a commemorative tablet and design of the Korean flag. It was erected in 1895 to symbolize the assumption of independence by Korea, on the site of an ancient structure called the ‘ Gate of Gratitude.' Near it formerly stood a pavilion in which newly appointed sovereigns received the investiture brought by a special envoy from Peking. Only the stone supports of the old gate remain. — The rambling structure near the base of the hill at the left is the Seoul Prison. — The region roundabout was formerly used as an Execution Ground, and a decade or so ago it was not unusual to see headless bodies stretched by the roadside, as reminders that the ferocious Tong-haks, or the scarcely less cruel Government, were busy. — Beyond the arch, the road winds up through a rocky defile, then leads countryward between bald hills. The city wall high above on the craggy heights is picturesque. The highway soon descends into a wild and arid gorge. About 1/2 M. from the arch the side trail to the White Buddha turns off at the right, and winds first to the left, then to the right across a lonely and forbidding country. An open stretch leads between hills to a shallow river, a 5 min. walk up which brings one to Inouye’s stone quarry (frequent blasting). Opposite this, on the left bank of the stream, near the superintendent's house, is a temple-like pavilion above a monolithic fragment of granite at the foot of a hill.

The White Buddha, sometimes called Miriok (from the Chinese Mi-le or Buddha), is one of many similar sculptured figures (in low relief) scattered throughout Korea, and is supposed to be an early relic of Buddhism. The setting of the figure is romantic and picturesque, with the shallow stream prattling at its feet and the lofty hills rising behind. The body of the seated image is painted white; the heavy, chiseled features show little of the calm Buddhistic spirit characteristic of certain Buddhas in Japan, and the bizarre head-dress and gaudy enrichments accentuate its cheapness. There is no custodian, and no fees are demanded. — The return to Seoul should be varied by continuing upstream through the wild and striking region to a point where the city wall flings itself across the

gorge and forms a mediaeval five-arched bridge. At a point 5 min. beyond the gateway (through the wall) a lateral arm of the stream comes in at right angles. This should be followed past the small group of native huts flanking one side of the gorge. In spring the wild flowers are varied and beautiful, and in autumn the splendid tints are accentuated by numerous coppices of red haw bushes. In the warm and sheltered rift in the hills, vegetation flourishes with semi-tropical luxuriance. Lines of laden bulls, ponies, and coolies descend the gorge and add to its picturesqueness. A 25 min. walk from the Buddha, along a well-defined path, brings one to the summit of the ridge and the antique Pook Han Gate, formerly closed and reserved for the King should he attempt to escape to one of the several fortresses in the hills. A Japanese sentry now guards it. — The road dips hence into a second gorge choked with willows, poplars, and scrub pines, then emerges on a height whence a fine panorama of the city and the hills behind unfolds itself. Hence a 30 min. walk down through the outskirts (follow the wide road and turn up at the left with it) brings one to the side wall and gate of the N. Palace.

Pook Han Monastery. Pook Han is the name of a horseshoe-shaped ridge of mts. about 6 M. north of Seoul; the highest of the peaks is about 3500 ft. above the sea. Some 2000 ft. up from the valley, toward the summit, is a depression somewhat similar to that of Koya-san. Here stood formerly an extensive group of monasterial edifices (some of which have been burned) where Buddhist monks who had taken monastic vows, uneasy Korean kings, and a few literates lived the lives of recluses. The structures are now deserted save for a few poor (and sometimes greedy) priests. Certain of the Christian missionaries in Seoul go there during the hottest period of summer, and dwell in the tumble-down temples. The spot forms a locally popular all-day excursion from the capital — of more interest to the antiquarian and to the lover of picturesque and tranquil scenery than to the ordinary tourist in search of thrills. Ladies unused to climbing rocky roads may find the trip fatiguing. Four hrs. should be allowed for the outward journey (which can be planned to the best advantage with the assistance of the hotel manager), and as many for the return — which can be varied. A guide (3 yen for the day) can be dispensed with if one can get a jinriki coolie who speaks a little English. Rikishas (2 yen for the round trip with 2 men) can go only part way, leaving a walk up to the monastery of about 1 1/2 hr. One man accompanies the traveler and the other goes round the base of the hill to another point, whence the homeward start is made. By starting from the hotel at 8 a.m. and taking it leisurely, the monastery can be reached about noon, where luncheon (best to be taken from the hotel) may be eaten. The situation of the structures, locked in the cool mt. fastnesses of a spur of the

great axial range, is charmingly romantic; the edifices themselves are in a lamentable state of decay and are melancholy reminders of better days. Compared to the splendid Buddhistic fanes of Japan, these are crudely constructed, and with shabby, impoverished interiors. The now faded frescoes represent the customary mythological dragons and other Buddhist emblems, and are without artistic worth. On a clear day the views from the high points of the hills are magnificent and far-reaching; Chemulpo, 25 M. distant, and the Yellow Sea that stretches beyond it are visible, along with many hundreds of square miles of mt. and valley. The matchless blue of the Korean sky lends a permanent charm. — It is customary to leave a small offering with the priest; the traveler is fortunate if this subject does not name the fee and make it a fat one.

The Diamond Mountain (Kongo-San; Korean, Keumkang-San) Monasteries, 5000 ft. above the Japan Sea, in Kang-Won Province, N.E. of Seoul (Seoul-Wonsan Rly. to 77 M. Heiko, or 97 M. Sempo, thence 88 or 61 M. respectively to Choan-ji, and 22 M. to Onseiri), a picturesque and highly interesting monastic group (said to date from a.d. 515) in the midst of one of the most beautiful scenic regions in Korea, are much more accessible than formerly and are visited by an increasing number of tourists each year.

A comfortable Hotel, the Onseiri (rates from 11 to 19 yen per day per person. Am. Pl.: food and service in foreign style; English-speaking management), established for the convenience of foreigners by the Railway Bureau of the Chosen Gov’t, and open from June 1st to Oct. 30th, is now maintained at Onseiri (Onchyouli), a little town in a lovely sequestered valley marked by numerous hot mineral springs, at the foot of Outer Kongo.

The trip to Kongo-San can be planned to the best advantage with the help of the manager of the Chosen Hotel, at Seoul (p. 732). He will arrange (free) for the (necessary) guide, an auto, jinriki, or other means of transportation for points beyond the rly., and will bespeak hotel accommodations in advance. The handsomely illustrated Guide to Kongo-San (in English; free) issued by the Japan Tourist Bureau contains detailed information relating to the different routes to the mountain, costs, time required, etc.

Ideal weather conditions usually prevail in the Diamond Mt. district in Sept. -Oct., and in April the hillsides flame with azaleas, cherry blossoms, and a myriad wild-flowers. The summers are cool, and the region is gaining fame as a summer resort.

Kongo-San with its 40 or more monasteries (of the Zen sect, see p. cxcix) is the most sacrosanct and oldest Buddhistic center in Chosen. Of the 4 main temples (teras) the Choan-ji, with a wonderfully decorated hall, the Taiyuho-den, has numerous relics of unique interest to ecclesiologists.

Choanji Hotel, in the Choanji enclosure at the foot of the Uchi-Kongozan. Rates 8 to 15 yen per person, Am. Pl. Under the management of the South Manchuria Rly. Co. (a guarantee to the traveler of comfort, good food, excellent service and reasonable prices).