II

JAPAN MAKES A FALSE MOVE

For hundreds of years it was the ambition of Japan to replace China as the Protector of Korea. It was the more mortifying, therefore, that the Hanabusa incident served to strengthen China's authority. It gave Peking an excuse to despatch and maintain a considerable force at Seoul, for the first time for hundreds of years.

The Japanese tried to turn the affair to their advantage by demanding-still more concessions. The Korean rulers found it hard to refuse these determined little men. So they adopted a policy of procrastination, arguing endlessly. Now Japan was in a hurry, and could not wait.

The Japanese Minister at Seoul at this time was Takezoi, timid and hesitating constitutionally, but, like many timid folk, acting at times with great rashness. Under him was a subordinate of stronger and rougher type, Shumamura, Secretary to the Legation. Shumamura kept in touch with a group of Cabinet Ministers who had been to Japan and regarded Japan as their model. They mourned together over the growth of Chinese power, and agreed that it was threatening the independence of the country. They repeated the rumour that a secret treaty had actually been signed by the King, recognizing Chinese supremacy in more binding form than ever before. They felt that the Queen was against them. Her nephew, Min Yung-ik, had been on their side when he returned from America. Now, under her influence, he had taken the other side.

Kim Ok-kiun, leader of the malcontents, was an ambitious and restless politician, eager to have the control of money. One of his chief supporters was Pak Yung-hyo, relative of the King, twenty-three years old, and a sincere reformer. Hong Yung-sik, keen on foreign ways, was a third. He was hungry for power. He was the new Postmaster General, and a building now being erected in Seoul for a new post-office was to mark the entry of Korea into the world's postal service. So Kwang-pom, another Minister, was working with them.

Kim Ok-kiun and Shumamura had long conferences. They discussed ways and means. The reformers were to overthrow the reactionaries in the Cabinet by the only possible way, killing them; they were then in the King's name to grant Japan further commercial concessions, and the Japanese were to raise a considerable loan which should be handed over to Kim for necessary purposes.

Takezoi was on a visit to Tokyo when his deputy and the Korean came to an understanding. They were rather anxious to have the whole thing through before his return, for they knew, as every one knew, that Takezoi was not the best man for a crisis. But when the Minister returned from Tokyo there was none so bold as he. He boasted to his friends that Japan had at last resolved to make war on China, and that every Chinaman would soon be driven out of the land. He received Kim and heard of his plans with satisfaction. There would be no trouble about money. A few Japanese in Seoul itself would arrange all that was necessary. Let the thing be done quickly.

It had been customary for the Legations only to drill their soldiers in daytime, and to inform the Government before they were taken out to public places. But one night Takezoi had his Japanese troops turned out, marched up the great hill, Namzan, commanding the city, and drilled there. When asked why he did it, he cheerfully replied that he had just made an experiment to see how far he could startle the Chinese and Koreans; and he was quite satisfied with the result.

He sought an interview with the King. He had brought back the 400,000 yen which Japan had exacted as indemnity for the Hanabusa outrage. Japan desired Korea's friendship, he declared, not her money. He also brought a stand of Japanese-made rifles, a gift from the Emperor to the King, and a very significant gift, too. The Minister urged on the King the helpless condition of China, and the futility of expecting assistance from her, and begged the King to take up a bold position, announce Korea's independence and dare China's wrath. The King listened, but made no pledges.

Kim and the Japanese Secretary called in their allies, to discuss how to strike. One scheme proposed was that they should send two men, disguised as Chinese, to kill two of the Ministers they had marked as their victims. Then they would charge the other Ministers with the deed and kill them. Thus they would get rid of all their enemies at a blow. A second plan was that Kim should invite the Ministers to the fine new house he had built, should entertain them and then kill them. Unfortunately for Kim, the Ministers were not willing to come to his house. He had invited them all to a grand banquet shortly before, and only a few had accepted.

"Make haste!" urged Shumamura. "Japan is ready for anything." At last some one hit on a happy scheme. Twenty-two young Koreans had been sent to Japan to learn modern military ways, and had studied at the Toyama Military School at Tokyo. Returning home, they had given an exhibition of their physical drill and fencing before the King, who was as delighted with them as a child with a new toy. He had declared that he would have all his army trained this way. The leader of the students, So Jai-pil, nephew of one of the King's favourite generals, was made a Colonel of the Palace Guard, although only seventeen years old. But despite the King, the old military leaders, whose one idea of martial ardour was to be carried around from one point to another surrounded with bearers and warriors who made a loud noise to impress the crowd, shuddered at the idea of reform, and managed to block it. The students were kicking their heels idly around the palace. Here were the very lads for the job. Appeal to their patriotism. Let them do the killing, and their seniors take the glory. And so it was decided.

The Japanese were talking so boastingly that it would be surprising if the Chinese had learned nothing. At the head of the Chinese troops was Yuan Shih-kai, afterwards to prove himself the strongest man in the Middle Kingdom and to overthrow the Manchu dynasty. He said nothing, but it does not follow that he did nothing. At a dinner given to the Foreign Representatives, the Interpreter to the Japanese Legation delivered a speech in Korean on the shameless unscrupulousness and cowardice of the Chinese. He even went so far as to call them "sea slugs," giving a malicious glance at the Chinese Consul-General while he spoke. The Chinese official did not know Korean, but he could understand enough of the speech to follow its import.

The plans were now complete. Every victim had two assassins assigned to him. The occasion was to be the opening of the new post-office, when Hong Yung-sik would give an official banquet to which all must come. During the dinner, the detached palace was to be set on fire, a call was to be raised that the King was in danger, and the reactionary Ministers were to be killed as they rushed to his help. Two of the students were appointed sentries, two were to set fire to the palace, one group was to wait at the Golden Gate for other members of the Government who tried to escape that way. Four young Japanese, including one from the Legation, were to act as a reserve guard, to complete the killing in case the Koreans failed. The Commander of the Palace Guard, a strong sympathizer, posted his men in such a way as to give the conspirators a free hand. The Japanese Minister promised that his soldiers would be ready to cooperate at the right time.

On the afternoon of December 4th, the Japanese Legation people busied themselves with fetching ammunition and provisions from the barracks. In the afternoon a detachment of soldiers came over. They knew that the deed was to be done that night.

The dinner was held, according to plan. It was a singularly harmonious gathering--up to a point. Many were the jokes and pointed was the wit. The gesang (geisha), spurred by the merriment of their lords, did more than ever to amuse the guests. The drink was not stinted.

Then there came a call of "Fire!" It was the duty of Min Yung-ik, as General Commanding the right Guard Regiment, to keep the custody of the fire apparatus. Deploring his rough luck in being called to duty at such a time, he left the hall and, surrounded by his braves and attendants, who were waiting for him in the anteroom, made his way to his yungmun, or official residence. When he was near the post-office five young men, armed with sharp swords, suddenly broke through his guard, killed one of the soldiers and attacked the Minister. "He received seven sword slashes, all great ones, two all but taking his head off," wrote a contemporary chronicler. He staggered back into the banqueting hall, blood pouring from him. There was at once great confusion. The Ministers not in the plot, fearing that some ill was intended against them, threw away their hats of state, turned their coats, and concealed themselves amongst their coolies. Fortunately for Min, just as the palace doctors were about to attempt to stop his wounds by pouring boiling wax on them, a modern surgeon came hurrying up. He was Dr. Allen, an American Presbyterian missionary, the first to arrive in Korea. He did such good work on his patient that night that King and Court became friends of the missionaries for ever on.

Leaving the banqueting hall, Pak Yung-kyo and his companions at once hurried to the palace, informed the King that a Great Event had happened, and told him that he and the Queen must go with them for their safety. They took him to the Tai Palace, near at hand. Here they were at once surrounded by the Japanese troops, by the students, and some 800 Korean soldiers, under General Han Kiu-chik, who commanded one of the four regiments of the Palace Guard.

The King and Queen were of course accompanied by their own attendants. The Chief Eunuch, who was among them, took General Han on one side. "This is a very serious matter," he urged. "Let us send for General Yuan and the Chinese." General Han apparently weakened and agreed. There was no weakening on the part of the students. The Chief Eunuch and the General were "one by one withdrawn from the King's presence" and when outside were promptly despatched. Then the King was bidden to write notes to his chief anti-Progressive Ministers, summoning them to his presence. As they arrived, "one by one, each in his turn, was despatched by the students and his body thrown aside."

The King called for the Japanese Minister. At first he would not come. Finally he appeared. He had arranged that most of the work was to be done without his presence, in order to avoid diplomatic trouble. A number of edicts had been drawn up which the King was obliged to sign. All kinds of reforms were commanded, and the land was made on paper, in an hour, into a modern state. The reformers did not forget their own interests. Hong Yung-sik, the Postmaster General, was made Prime Minister, Kim Ok-kiun was made second officer of the Royal Treasury, and the lad So Jai-pil, on whom the chief command of the students and Korean soldiers now devolved, was made General Commanding a Guard Regiment.

In answer to his urgent entreaties, the King was allowed next morning to return to his palace, the Japanese and the Progressives accompanying him. It was soon clear, even to the reformers, that they had gone too far. As news of the affair became known, the people made their sentiments felt in unmistakable fashion. Odd Japanese in the streets were killed, others made their way to the Legation and shut themselves in there, while the Japanese Minister and the Progressives were hemmed in the palace by an angry mob.

They were short of ammunition. The Japanese had twenty-five rounds a man, the twenty-two students had fifteen rounds apiece, and the eight hundred Korean soldiers either had none or destroyed what they had. There was plenty in the Legation but the mob barred the way. General So Jai-pil (to give him his new title) was on the move day and night, going from outpost to outpost, threatening and encouraging weaklings, and arranging and inspiring his men.

The affair started on the evening of December 4th; the reformers remained in the palace until the afternoon of December 7th. Then General Yuan Shih-kai, the Chinese leader, approached the palace gates and sent in his card, demanding admission. The Queen had already smuggled a message out to him begging his aid. The Japanese soldiers on guard refused to allow him to enter. He gave warning that he would attack. He had 2,000 Chinese troops and behind them were fully 3,000 Korean soldiers and the mass of the population.

Takezoi weakened. He did not want to risk an engagement with the Chinese, and he declared that he would withdraw his Guard, and take them back to his Legation. Young General So drew his sword threateningly, and told him that they must stay and see it through. The Japanese captain in command of the troops was as eager for a fight as was So, and the Minister was for the time overruled.

A great fight followed. The Chinese sought to outflank the reformers, and to force an entry by climbing over the walls. One of the personal attendants of the King suddenly attacked the new Premier, Hong Yung-sik, and slew him. The Korean soldiers seemed to disappear from the scene as soon as the real fighting started, but the students and the Japanese did valiantly. They claimed that they shot fully three hundred Chinese. The great gate of the palace still held, in spite of all attacks. But the ammunition of the defenders had at last all gone.

"Let us charge the Chinese with our bayonets," cried So. The Japanese captain joyfully assented. But Takezoi now asserted his authority. He pulled from his pocket his Imperial warrants giving him supreme command of the Japanese in Korea and read them to the captain. "The Emperor has placed you under my command," he declared. "Refuse to obey me and you refuse to obey your Emperor. I command you to call your men together and let us all make our way back to the Legation." There was nothing to do but obey.

While the Chinese were still hammering at the front gate, the Japanese and reformers crept quietly around by the back wall towards the Legation. The people in the building, hearing this mass of men approach in the dark, unlit street, thought that they were the enemy, and opened fire on them. A Japanese sergeant and an interpreter were shot down on either side of General So. Not until a bugle was sounded did the Japanese inside the building recognize their friends. The party staggered in behind the barricades worn out. So, who had not closed his eyes for four days, dropped to the ground exhausted and slept.

He did not awake until the next afternoon. He heard a voice calling him, and started up to find that the Japanese were already leaving. They had resolved to fight their way to the sea. "I do not know who it was called me," said So, afterwards. "Certainly it was none of the men in the Legation. I sometimes believe that it must have been a voice from the other world." Had he wakened five minutes later, the mob would have caught him and torn him to bits.

The Japanese blew up a mine, and, with women and children in the centre, flung themselves into the maelstrom of the howling mob. The people of Seoul were ready for them. They had already burned the houses of the Progressive statesmen, Kim, Pak, So and Hong. They tried, time after time, to rush the Japanese circle. The escaping party marched all through the night, fighting as it marched. At one point it had to pass near a Chinese camp. A cannon opened fire on it. At Chemulpo, the coast port twenty-seven miles from Seoul, it found a small Japanese mail steamer, the _Chidose Maru_. The Koreans who had escaped with the party were hidden. Before the _Chidose_ could sail a deputation from the King arrived, disclaiming all enmity against the Japanese, but demanding the surrender of the Koreans. Takezoi seemed to hesitate, and the reformers feared for the moment that he was about to surrender them. But the pockmarked captain of the _Chidose_ drove the deputation from the side of his ship, in none too friendly fashion, and steamed away.

The reformers landed in Japan, expecting that they would be received like heroes, and that they would return with a strong army to fight the Chinese. They did not realize that the revolutionist who fails must look for no sympathy or aid.

The Japanese Foreign Minister at first refused even to see them. When at last they secured an audience, he told them bluntly that Japan was not going to war with China over the matter. "We are not ready yet," said he. He then demanded of the reformers what they were going to do with themselves. This was too much for So Jai-pil. His seniors tried to restrain him, but in vain, "What way is this for Samurai to treat Samurai?" he hotly demanded. "We trusted you, and now you betray and forsake us. I have had enough of you. I am going to a new world, where men stand by their bonds and deal fairly with one another. I shall go to America."

A few weeks later he landed in San Francisco, penniless. He knew scarcely any English. He sought work. His first job was to deliver circulars from door to door, and for this he was paid three dollars a day. He attended churches and meetings to learn how to pronounce the English tongue. He saved money enough to enter college, and graduated with honours. He became an American citizen, taking a new form of his name, Philip Jaisohn. He joined the United States Civil Service and in due course was made a doctor of medicine by Johns Hopkins University. He acquired a practice at Washington, and was lecturer for two medical schools. Later on, he was recalled to his native land.

The Korean reformers themselves saw, later on, the folly of their attempt. "We were very young," they say. They were the tools of the Japanese Minister, and they had inherited a tradition of political life which made revolt seem the natural weapon by which to overthrow your enemies. They learned wisdom in exile, and some of them were subsequently to reach high rank in their country's service.

There is a sequel to this story. The King and the Court regarded Kim Ok-kiun as the unpardonable offender. Other men might be forgiven, for after all attempted revolts were no novelties. But there was to be no forgiveness for Kim.

A price was put on his head. Assassins followed him to Japan, but could find no opportunity to kill him. Then a plot was planned and he was induced to visit Shanghai. He had taken great pains to conceal his visit, but everything had been arranged ahead for him. Arriving at Shanghai he was promptly slain, and his body was carried in a Chinese war-ship to Chemulpo. It was cut up, and exhibited in different parts of the land as the body of a traitor. The mortified Japanese could do nothing at the time.

Years passed. The Japanese now had control of Korea. One of the last things they did, in 1910, before contemptuously pushing the old Korean Government into limbo, was to make it issue an Imperial rescript, restoring Kim Ok-kiun, Hong Yung-sik and others--although long dead--to their offices and honours, and doing reverence to their memory.[1]

[Footnote 1: Curiosity may be felt about my authority for many of the particulars supplied in this chapter. Accounts published by foreigners living at Seoul at the time are of use as giving current impressions, but are not wholly to be relied on for details. A very interesting official report, based on information supplied by the King, is to be found in the unpublished papers of Lieutenant George C. Foulk, U.S. Naval Attaché at Seoul, which are stored in the New York Public Library. A valuable account from the Japanese point of view was found among the posthumous papers of Mr. Fukuzawa (in whose house several of the exiles lived for a time) and was published in part in the Japanese press in 1910. I learned the conspirators' side directly from one of the leading actors in the drama.]

The text in this document is from a Korea-related work more than 50 years after the death of the authour and thus has entered the public domain. No modifications should be made to the text as this is the source of the work itself, not a page to be collaboratively worked on and improved.