The next evening’s audience was not quite so large as the others had been, but was obviously of much higher intellectual quality. More of the prominent men of the official class, apparently attracted by the nature of the theme, were present. They responded with increasing enthusiasm to Dr. Jones’ clear and vigorous interpretation of my remarks upon the dangers to the national life which grow out of superstition, lawlessness, partisanship, selfish ambition and avarice, and a frivolous, irreverent spirit. At the close of the lecture the audience rose to their feet and waved toward me their uplifted hands as a greeting, equivalent to the Japanese banzai—thus making an encouraging ending to the first series of lectures in Seoul.

On our return from Pyeng-yang it was arranged that a course of three lectures should be given in the hall of the Young Men’s Association to the teachers, and one or more popular addresses in Independence Hall, if this larger building could be obtained. To secure an audience for the teachers’ course, some 400 tickets of invitation were issued and distributed by Korean helpers. The report of the eagerness with which these tickets were sought led the secretary of the association to predict that three hundred at least would gather to hear discussed such topics as the following: “The Work of the Teacher,” “The Preparation of the Teacher,” “The Ideals of the Teacher.” The lecturer himself estimated that an audience of as many as fifty would be entirely satisfactory. As a matter of fact, somewhat more than one hundred appeared at the appointed hour. The Korean helpers who had distributed the tickets accounted for the discrepancy between the fact and their anticipations by the persistence of the rumor that I had come to Korea to take a permanent official position under the Japanese Government. [Indeed, this was the prevalent opinion in Korean official circles—and even among some of the foreigners—until the date of our leaving the country.] But the same question arose again: Had the Korean Christian helpers really told the truth and had they been faithful to their work; or had they dealt with their commission treacherously and brought back a false report? In either case it was obvious that the teachers of the public schools had diplomatically refrained from attendance, under circumstances which might indicate a relaxing of their anti-Japanese sentiments. However, certain of the Government officers now promised to send out word that attendance was commanded; and a large increase was expected at the next lecture. Whatever was the real cause of the first disappointment, the audiences were, in fact, about doubled at the following two lectures. They were also officially dignified by the presence of the Vice-Minister of Education, who, alas! soon afterward was arrested for contributing 1,200 yen to a conspiracy of assassination involving his own chief; he confessed to this intensity of his patriotism, underwent, according to current report, the preliminary examination by being beaten with rods, and was still in prison when we left Korea. As touching the moral efficiency of the lectures, however, it is only fair to say that the evil deed had been done some time previous to the culprit’s opportunity for benefiting by their influence.

At the close of this course on educational topics to the Korean teachers of Seoul, one of the officials in the Department of Education detained the audience by a long and somewhat impassioned address. In this he heartily thanked the lecturer and exhorted the teachers to a better fulfilment of their duties—at the same time lamenting bitterly the sad condition of educational interests in their native land. Then one of the Korean secretaries of the Y. M. C. A. complimented the audience on their excellent behavior while in the hall. This conduct of themselves had been in accordance with their profession as teachers. They had not yawned, or belched, or interrupted the speaker by leaving the room while he was speaking, after the customary behavior of Korean audiences of the uneducated classes. It should be said, however, that one of the many minor indirect benefits to the Korean people which are largely due to Christian missions is this: discipline in remaining fairly quiet and attentive while listening to others speaking. The unregenerate native manners in public meetings are most abominable.

Finally, after several disappointments and rebuffs, Mr. Gillett succeeded in obtaining Independence Hall for Sunday afternoon of April 21st. On our way out to the meeting and back again he revealed the fact that, on account of the opposition to me as the guest of Marquis Ito, he had been unable to get the meeting advertised as widely and effectively as he desired. Whether this was due to the unwillingness and unfaithfulness of his Korean helpers, or to the determination of the native edition of the Korean Daily News to oppose and traduce everything even remotely connected with Japan, I did not inquire. But I decided, and asked the secretary to communicate my decision to his native helpers, that this should be my last address to the Koreans in Seoul, unless invited by the Koreans themselves. Was there not here, I asked, a small body of leading Christian helpers with courage and manliness enough to set themselves against the prejudices of their countrymen by expressing spontaneously their willingness to hear truths about education, morals, and religion, from one who was the friend of the Japanese as well as their own nation’s friend?

In spite of the insufficient advertising, Independence Hall was fairly well filled. Some 1,500 to 1,600 were present; although perhaps 500 or 600 of the audience were boys, some of whom were not more than ten or twelve years of age. Much time was consumed in settling upon the floor in the front part of the hall these school-children as they arrived in groups, one after the other; and the exercises began more than an hour later than the time announced. The topic had been advertised as “The Five Conditions of National Prosperity”—these being, Industry, Art, Education, Morals, and Religion. Partly on account of somewhat heated feeling, and partly on account of cooler judgment as to what are the needs of the hour for Korea, I spoke with audacious plainness and with unaccustomed energy. Dr. Jones, who was acting as interpreter—moved, I think, by somewhat the same emotions—quite surpassed himself in vigor and in clearness, in a fine mingling of robustness with felicity of expression. The foreign auditors, including the interpreter himself, were inclined to be enthusiastic over the success of the meeting. For myself, there intervened a considerable period of distrust, both of the Koreans and of my ability to judge them fairly. Of one thing, however, I was becoming reasonably sure: the prophetic voice, exalting righteousness and openly condemning the vices of cowardice, lying, injustice, and cruel prejudice and race-hatred, is needed above all else in speech to the Koreans. I asked myself, and was unable to answer: Are the Christian agencies at work in Korea furnishing that voice, in a manner and measure to meet the need?

Going to the Lecture at Independence Hall.

The next morning, on returning from a walk with one of the foreign secretaries of the Young Men’s Association, we stood for some time upon the steps of Miss Sontag’s house discussing the decision of the day before. All the excuses for the Korean attitude toward any endeavors to help them which could, even in the remotest way, be connected with their anti-Japanese prejudices, were admitted; they were indeed “natural” (in the much-abused meaning of the word), but they were neither reasonable nor Christian. Besides, they were rendered particularly unmanly by the fact that these same Koreans were ready enough to profit, individually and collectively, by Japanese money and influence; and they were eager and crafty to use the religious institutions afforded them by Christian money, for the furthering of heathenish purposes and even criminal designs. The best thing which the “guest of Marquis Ito” could, therefore, do for the Koreans themselves was to let them know how, in his judgment, they were to be measured by the standards of morals and religion which they had professed to adopt. On going in to tiffin, somewhat late from this discussion, I found by my plate the cards of five Korean gentlemen, prominent in Christian circles, who had called in my absence. The next day information was received that these gentlemen had come to thank me for my previous work in their country’s behalf and to suggest their wish to have the work continued.

As a consequence of this implied invitation, one more public address was advertised for a Korean audience in Seoul. It was to be in the Association Hall, and its topic—“The Seven Cardinal Virtues.” On the evening of Friday, May 3d, some four hundred were present, including the Roman Catholic Archbishop, whose acquaintance I had made only two days before. Either because of the hot weather, or of the character of the address, or of the audience, the interest seemed less than at any of the previous lectures. The time to terminate the series of talks on topics so little stimulating and satisfying to the desire for “look-see,” and for emotional excitement, had plainly arrived. Probably, eight addresses on such serious topics, with an attendance averaging perhaps 500 to 600 each, ought at the present time in Korea to be gratifying to any speaker. However this may be, the address of May 3d was the last of my experiences with Korean audiences in Seoul.