Bernadou's travels in Korea in 1884 Part 1: Collecting

Jemulpo in the late 19th century. Robert Neff Collection.

By Robert Neff

In the summer of 1884, there were a handful of Westerners exploring the Korean Peninsula ― one of them was John Baptiste Bernadou, a 24-year-old ensign in the United States Navy temporarily assigned to the legation in Seoul. Part of his responsibilities was to gather material for the Smithsonian Institute ― a task that he did admirably well as evidenced by the large collection that can still be found in the museum.

Bernadou arrived at Jemulpo (modern Incheon) aboard the American warship USS Juniata in early 1884. According to the warship's logs, it arrived in the early morning of February 29, but in Bernadou's correspondence to the museum, he claimed he arrived in the port on March 1. They are likely both correct; the ship arrived on the 29th but Bernadou did not go ashore until the following morning. I am amazed at how poorly the log appears to have been maintained as an examination of it reveals that it often lacked annotations of who departed the ship and when. Judging from the log, the crew also had a problem with discipline ― a lot of bread and water with leg irons.

USS Juniata in the 1880s. Public Domain ― Wikipedia.

Bernadou left the ship and walked to Seoul, arriving at the legation sometime in the afternoon and was given "a warm and courteous reception" by General Lucius H. Foote, the U.S. Minister to Korea and his wife. Foote graciously provided Bernadou with "a house on the U.S. Legation ground" for his use while in Korea and he would dine with the legation's staff.

An engraving of John Baptiste Bernadou. Public Domain ― Wikipedia.

Shortly after he arrived, Bernadou began studying Korean with Yun Chi-ho at the American legation. When he wasn't studying the language, he was out exploring Seoul and the surrounding region. He also frequently visited Chemulpo where he collected fish specimens to ship back to the United States.

He lamented not having a camera as he could not "imagine any place where a photographic apparatus could be put to a better use than here. The costumes, buildings, memorial arches, bridges, tombs, shops, etc., would furnish work for many" researchers at the museum. It must have irked him to the degree that there were several people in Seoul who possessed cameras ― including two American naval officers. In a plea to be provided with one, he wrote: "a small camera, plates and developing apparatus would, I think, well pay the investment." Unfortunately, his request was not granted.

Everything caught his attention ― especially the small knickknacks and curios that he could easily send to the museum. One of the streets near the American legation was often referred to as "Furniture Street" and was a popular place for the handful of Western visitors. In late May, a small number of officers from the American warship, accompanied by Bernadou, wandered through this furniture market.

A group of curious residents of Seoul curiously looking at the cameraman, Percival Lowell, in early 1884. Robert Neff Collection.

According to one of the officers:

"Unlike the Japanese with whom everything is lacquered, lacquer-work is here the exception. But instead, the wood is either dark and finely grained, admitting of a polish like walnut, or rosewood, or it is stained in shades of purple. For the furnishing of houses, that are generally without closets, these cabinet makers furnish bureaus, cabinets and deep chests, all bound and ornamented, handled and hinged with brass and iron. The chests, bound with iron in curious fretwork, and sharply wrought hinges, handles and locks, look not unlike those we see in the Museum of Cluny and other depositories of Mediaeval art. The cabinets are often hinged with brass in the form of butterflies, and the turtle is a favorite decoration ― representing longevity ― while there is some inlaid work in mother-of-pearl, or abalone shell, which is well done, though inferior to the Japanese art of this character. Their most characteristic work is a long cabinet with sliding panels, which uncover all sorts of doors and recesses and would fit a mantle very well. The panels are made of hardwood and in the centre of each is a silver ornament in the form of a flower, or rosette."

Bernadou was impressed and at some point became a customer. Although he was "picking up [the language] readily with the aid of a native teacher with whom he is closeted five hours daily," I cannot imagine him being able to haggle with one of the many shopkeepers who had the reputation (at least amongst the foreigners) for being cold to potential buyers. His teacher probably assisted him with his transaction.

Bernadou's travels in Korea in 1884 Part 6: Pyongyang

2023-06-18 14:25 | About the past

Bernadou's travels in Korea in 1884 part 5: Gaeseong's bridges and tombs

2023-06-12 12:27 | About the past

Bernadou's travels in Korea in 1884 Part 4 - Gaeseong's passive defiance

2023-05-27 15:52 | About the past

Bernadou's travels in Korea in 1884 Part 3: Gaeseong, the old capital

2023-05-21 09:15 | About the past

Bernadou's travels in Korea in 1884 Part 2: Goyang and Beyond

2023-05-20 12:21 | About the past

A cabinet and writing desk obtained by Bernadou. The picture was taken by Pierre Louis Jouy in the mid-1880s. Annual Report of the Regents of the Smithsonian Institute (1891).

In a letter to his superior at the museum, Bernadou wrote:

"I have several small specimens [of furniture], one in particular being quite good. It was made by a Corean in Soul [sic]. It has, in silver inlaid on copper, the Chinese character, (long life and happiness), repeated a number of times; this is characteristically Corean. The locks, hinges and paneling are all of good workmanship and peculiar."

A cabinet obtained by Bernadou. The picture was taken by Pierre Louis Jouy in the mid-1880s. Annual Report of the Regents of the Smithsonian Institute (1891).

Two Korean boys use a less-unique technique to shoe a Korean pony. Courtesy of Diane Nars Collection.

This is a wonderful publication based upon the "Annual Report of the Regents of the Smithsonian Institute (1891)" but uses modern images of the Bernadou Collection and includes his (sometimes mistaken) notes as well as the descriptions provided by his contemporaries and present-day experts. Smithsonian Institution.

Books and paintings were also of interest to the American collector. He wasn't the only one searching for interesting manuscripts. According to him, "There are several books of Corean folk-lore; these by the aid of an interpreter have been put into good English by a European here."

It isn't clear who the European was. Horace N. Allen arrived in Korea during the late summer of 1884 and did eventually write a book about Korean folk-lore, but he was an American missionary doctor. It is possible the writer was a German or Austrian member of the Korean Customs Service at Jemulpo or Seoul.

Bernadou, however, managed to find something he considered far more important than a book of fairy tales.

"The most valuable object that I have succeeded in obtaining is a picture book between two and three hundred years old representing scenes in Corean domestic life, and general life of the common people. The pictures are faithful to the minutest details, among them are; a marriage procession, students at an examination, a dancing girl and a band of musicians, weir fishing, shoeing a horse in a manner I think peculiar to Corea (by throwing him upon his back and [tying] his four feet to an upright post."

In later years, Westerners often commented about this unique Korean technique of shoeing horses. One American missionary confessed a very unchristian-like sentiment of enjoying the horse being subject to the pain and discomfort of being shod in this manner as it seemed a fitting punishment for the Korean horses' notorious viciousness to their riders, one another and anything else that had the misfortune of straying too near to their teeth and hooves.

As for animals, he expressed a desire to hire two native hunters in the fall to go out and kill and skin animals ― under his direction. A Korean official of high rank promised to assist him with this venture.

But the one thing that he wanted more than animal pelts was skeletons ― not animal skeletons, he wanted human skeletons.

"I have been looking anxiously for some way to obtain a skeleton. This is extremely difficult to do, however, as from their [the Koreans'] religion, setting such a high value upon human remains, they are averse to disposing of them. As heads are cut off frequently, I might be able to get the remains of some criminal; but the subject is a very delicate one and I would not act until I felt sure that motive was fully understood."

The frequency of decapitations in the streets was also noted by one of his naval companions when they went for a walk in late March.

"We encountered one ghastly spectacle in the broad street which fronts the palace entrance ― the bodies of two criminals, beheaded, and left to decompose by the road side. It is so common a sight it called for no comment, or notice, from the passers by."

I am surprised Bernadou did not approach Fritz W. Schultz, the stuttering German harbor master at Jemulpo who outrageously proposed to the American naval officers to do "a little body-snatching business in the interests of science" at the Korean cemetery near the port. Schultz suggested that "the fruits of [their] labor [were] to be deposited in the museums of America and Germany." The American naval officers declined the offer, but apparently Schultz ― or perhaps one of his associates ― did disinter some of the graves as there are some Korean skeletons in museums in central Europe. It seems that Bernadou never reached the point where he felt his motive would not be misunderstood because there is no mention of a skeleton on the manifest of goods he sent to the museum.

My appreciation to Diane Nars for allowing me to use one of her images.

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