Korea's precious trees in 1890s

A wood market in Seoul. Circa 1900. Courtesy of Diane Nars Collection

By Robert Neff

For many residents of Seoul, hiking is a great way to get away from the confines of their apartments, workplaces and schools and get out into nature. It is a great outdoor activity during the pandemic as it maintains social distancing (although some of those mountain paths can be quite crowded). Seoul is blessed with an abundance of tree-covered mountains and hills but it hasn't always been like that.

In 1896, poachers prowled the mountain slopes around Seoul ― especially the mountain known as Namsan ― harvesting timber and brush to sell in the city markets. The Independent (a newspaper published in Seoul) declared:

"For the last two years the pine forests on the hills about Seoul have been encroached upon by wood gatherers and much timber has been cut without permission. If this continues the hills will eventually become denuded."

It happily reported that police had arrested four poachers who were caught in the act of carrying away stolen timber from the hills near Yongsan.

Gathering timber and wood in the early 1900s. Robert Neff Collection

The following month, in a letter to the editor of The Independent, a Korean resident echoed the fear that the mountain might soon become denuded of trees:

"This beautiful spring weather induced me to go up Nam San (South Mountain) the day before yesterday. Upon reaching the top I heard the sound of wood being chopped in that neighborhood. I went in the direction from which the sound came and found four Japanese cutting down large elm trees several hundred years old. I desire to know whether these Japanese received permission from the government to cut down these old trees or whether they are doing it on their own account. It strikes me as a bad policy in either case as the beautiful South Hill will soon be bare if this is allowed to go on."

The paper investigated and discovered that the Japanese legation was allowed to cut down the trees so that the wood could be used to make instruments needed by the Japanese soldiers to conduct their military drills.

However, in the following month (June), a Chinese man was arrested by Korean police for cutting trees on Namsan ― possibly to sell in the market or for personal use. As he was a foreigner, the Korean authorities could not punish him so he was turned over to the British legation and subsequently punished ― what punishment he received is unclear; likely nothing more than a stiff fine. The British legation at this time was responsible for Chinese residents in Korea ― the Chinese legation was closed for several years following the Sino-Japanese War (1894-1895).

Cutting timber circa 1900-1910. Robert Neff Collection

A lot of timber used in Seoul was imported from other regions of the country. In August 1896, The Independent reported:

"Building activity is noticed all over the city. Several large rafts of logs were brought down the river lately and snapped up by large purchasers the day they arrived."

Most of the logs ― if not all ― were probably obtained legally but there were some government officials who used their position to enrich their own pockets. The Royal Grave Keeper in Gwangju (Gyeonggi Province) sold eighty large pine trees belonging to the Royal Graves. He was subsequently arrested and charged with robbery.

Sometimes it wasn't greed that compelled people to cut down trees ― it was a holy calling. On the northern bank of the Han River near Yeoju City (Gyeonggi Province) stood "a venerable tree centuries old." According to the newspaper, "It [was] held in great veneration by the common people of those parts" and they were abhorred when they learned that a local Roman Catholic priest had commanded his followers to cut it down.

The people pointed out that the tree belonged to the government and, unless permission was received by the local authorities, it could not be cut down. The newspaper "sympathized with the desire to put away all objects of idolatry from Korea and these sacred trees are doubtless such" but was also surprised that a foreigner "would order the demolition of property not his own."

A cart and its load of wood circa 1900-1920s. Robert Neff Collection

Unfortunately, we don't know if this tree was spared or not but Yeoju still has a couple of very old trees with interesting histories ― and legends.

According to Tales of Gyeonggi Province (2013), there is one zelkova tree along the banks of the river that is over 500 years old. Legends claim that many years ago (perhaps when tigers were learning how to smoke), an elderly man peeled off some of the tree's bark and was suddenly attacked by a horned snake. Within a few days, the man died and his family was financially ruined. The tree soon gained a reputation as being holy. I am not sure why a horned snake would be associated with fertility but according to the guide, the tree is "well known as a place where women go to pray for fertility."

Judging from the legends of other zelkova trees in the area, peeling off the bark is not something you should do if you want to have a long and prosperous life.

The ancient gingko tree at Silleuksa Temple also has a legend that might have outraged the foreign priest. During the Goryeo Dynasty a famous Buddhist priest stopped at the temple and left behind his walking stick. The stick ― apparently unmolested in its resting spot ― eventually grew into a large ginkgo tree. The temple and the tree were badly burned during the Japanese invasion of 1592. Like the temple, the tree revitalized and three new branches poked up from its burnt remains. According to Gyeonggi Province legend, "As a ginkgo tree is supposed to have two branches, one weak branch was cut out and the remaining branches grew to become this 600-year-old-tree."

The ancient ginkgo tree at Silleuksa Temple in Yeoju. April 2020. Robert Neff Collection

However, just as the gods can bestow holiness on trees, they can also destroy them. In September 1896, lightning struck a huge willow tree in the village just outside the South Gate. The Independent noted that "it caused great consternation and terror among the inhabitants of that village." I can't help wondering which was stronger ― the reverence for the holy tree or the satisfaction of a pocket full (considering the coinage ― pony-load) of money after a trip to the wood market.

My appreciation to Diane Nars for her assistance and for allowing me to use an image from her collection.

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