Fans, detractors of legation guards

Russian military instructors with Korean soldiers in the late 1890s / Robert Neff Collection

By Robert Neff

At the beginning of 1904, Seoul was a city filled with soldiers. Lillias Underwood, an American missionary, described the capital as having "many long rows of barracks all over the city, for the Emperor had nearly ten thousand troops" and the streets nearby Deoksu Palace were constantly filled with Korean soldiers and their officers guarding the Korean monarch. War between Russia and Japan was expected to begin at any moment.

However, the Koreans were not the only soldiers in the city. She recalled that "soldiers arrived in goodly numbers at the Russian, Japanese, French, Italian, German, English, and American legations. Arms bristled everywhere, uniforms of many nations varied the almost universal white of the Korean people; there was marching and countermarching, sentinels as thick as flies…"

Her home was surrounded by legations (the Russian compound on one side, the American compound on the other and the French in front) and was located near the palace so she had a fairly good vantage point to witness the activities of the various military units.

German sailors from SMS Jaguar explore Seoul in 1907. / Robert Neff Collection

In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, foreign legations and embassies in Seoul frequently summoned naval and marine guards to help protect their citizens and property. These guards provided not only a sense of security but also entertainment for the small foreign community. The military personnel often gave impromptu musical performances and dramatic or humorous plays and served as the visiting team in local sporting events ― particularly baseball. At the social gatherings, their adventures ― real or exaggerated ― were wonderful diversions to the mundaneness of living in Seoul.

Adults were not the only members of Seoul's foreign community who appreciated the arrival of military guards ― the children, especially the boys, viewed them in awe. Underwood, somewhat disapprovingly, observed that her son, along with the other American boys, "would gladly have lain down and let the soldiers walk over them. The boys hung round the barracks, acted as interpreters and ran errands for their heroes…"

The American legation guards had seen service in the 1899-1902 Philippine-American War and were filled with tales that they happily told the young American boys "who sat close beside them, gazing and listening as though they [ ― the marines and sailors ― ] were demigods."

Korean soldiers drilling in 1904 or 1905 / Robert Neff Collection

The legation guard had a great impact on the impressionable boys. The boys' vocabularies became enriched with military slang, their appreciation for music was enhanced with sailors' ditties and marine cadences and, perhaps too infrequently, some of the mothers overheard their sons retelling combat stories.

Underwood "was forced to utter a word of warning [to her son], though she hated to cast a mist of doubt of the glory of his idols." She "somewhat restricted" his access to the legation guard and explained that the men were all brave but some of them liked "to stay in the horrible dirty saloons" and were "not companions for children." Her success was rather doubtful: as these military men "all had a strong hold on his affections, and he always had an excuse ready for their faults, to most of which he was indeed quite blind, and ardent praises for all their virtues."

Underwood was quick to point out the faults of the Russian guard whom she claimed drank far too much of their terrible [vodka] and other poisonous stuff, and ill-treated helpless, unoffending [Koreans] in such shocking ways…"

She was not the only one complaining. The Korean "Foreign Office complained to the Russian Legation of the disorderly actions of Russian soldiers in the street, who caught Korean women and forcibly kissed and otherwise insulted them." The Russian authorities promised they would put a stop to these offenses but, a few days later, another incident took place and the Korean police were forced to disarm two Russian soldiers ― "after a brisk fight."

German postcard of Korea circa 1904 / Robert Neff Collection

According to Underwood, "every woman in the country wished success to the Japanese if for nothing but to be rid of the Russians."

Her desire was soon fulfilled.

"When the Japanese army of thousands of sturdy, grim, determined little men came pouring into Seoul, bless you, you couldn't turn around without running into a regiment. Nevertheless it was all remarkably orderly and quiet for a large city full of the troops of many nations. Nobody had any complaints to make of the Japanese soldiers, and seldom were any of them seen drunk."

Her criticism of the Russians seems somewhat hypocritical considering the controversy surrounding the American legation guard in Seoul during the 1894-95 Sino-Japanese War ― which she was fully aware of.

On Dec. 11, 1894, Sally Sill, the wife of John Sill, the American representative to Korea, wrote:

"One of our guards deserted today, while on duty, he sold his gun to a Japanese and has left for parts unknown. Of course it is a very serious matter and has caused some excitement among the soldiers. The [Japanese man] brought the gun to the legation and said he paid ten dollars for it. He refused to give it up without the money but he was forced to for he had no business to buy it under the circumstances."

On Dec. 23, she wrote: "The soldier who deserted has come back. He says he had such an irresistible desire for drink that he could not help going after it: poor fellow, five years' imprisonment is the least punishment he will have. He is now in irons waiting be taken back to the Charleston [an American warship at Incheon]."

Japanese troops unload at Jemulpo (Incheon) in 1904. / Robert Neff Collection

This was not the most egregious allegation of misconduct levied at the American legation guard in 1894. Rose Moore, an American missionary, wrote a letter of complaint to the authorities in Washington, D.C., in which she stated:

"We have to blush for our American soldiers and some of the officers from the Baltimore [an American warship]. They get beastly drunk and carouse about the streets in a most disgraceful manner, frightening and surprising the [Japanese] and Koreans."

An investigation was promptly made by the naval authorities and Representative Sill. Sill summoned Moore and her husband Rev. Samuel Moore to the legation and, after putting her on her oath, learned that she had, "upon mere hearsay, directly and squarely charged the officers and men with drunken and disgraceful carousals on the public streets."

She claimed that Korean witnesses had told her and her husband about these incidents. When Sill demanded to know the names of the witnesses, the missionary couple claimed they could not remember. Sill denounced Rev. Moore as "a holy liar" and the investigation was closed.

Japanese soldiers at Jemulpo in 1904 or 1905 / Robert Neff Collection

Captain Benjamin F. Day, the commander of the naval vessel which supplied the legation guard, closed his own investigation into the affair and concluded the accusations were false. In his report to the admiral he wrote: "It would have been surprising, and not in accordance with the usual experience with landing parties had there not been some drunkenness amongst them as they were supplied with money monthly…Men who do not get drunk are not plentiful in the Navy and Marine Corps."

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