CHAPTER VIII
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES AND IMPRESSIONS
Before leaving Seoul I ventured to send to His Imperial Majesty of Korea, through one of his most intimate, devoted, and consistent friends of long standing, a message that should embody some of my impressions regarding his own best interests and the essential conditions for the future welfare of his country. I had already frequently addressed his people with great plainness, relying upon an implied confidence in the sincerity of their monarch’s words, spoken at the time of my audience at the Court. It will be remembered (see [p. 46]) that the Emperor had then said: “He was glad to learn I had come to instruct his people in right ways”; “he hoped they would open their minds to enlightenment and to modern ideas”; he wished “my addresses would contribute to their progress.” The speaker had, therefore, not only royal permission but that request, which, according to the etiquette of this and other Eastern courts, is the equivalent of a command, when he warned his Korean audiences that the real prosperity of their country could not be obtained by intrigue and assassination, but only by cultivating the industries and arts, by improving education, and by regulating their conduct according to the unchanging principles of a pure morality and a truly spiritual religion. Moreover, it should be remembered that, while Oriental monarchs are accustomed to think of themselves as entitled to rule without regard to constitutional restrictions and in defiance of control by any legal code, the Confucian ethics requires them to submit patiently to rebuke and exhortation, on moral grounds. It also exalts the position of the teacher of practical philosophy (or ethics) to the highest rank in the service of the State. Nor had I forgotten the earnest words of the aged Japanese physician at a banquet held on the evening of the preceding 11th of February, in the city of Osaka, by which the one hundred and fifty leading citizens assembled there were reminded that, when the ancient Oriental teacher and the modern teacher from the West agree in the doctrine—“It is righteousness which exalteth a nation”—their agreement is significant of the important conclusion that the doctrine is true. It did not seem improper, therefore, to call his Majesty’s attention to the rocks just ahead, directly for which, under the piloting of evil domestic and foreign counsellors, he was steering the ship of State.
The message emphasized especially the following particulars. Inasmuch as Japan had already fought one internal and two foreign wars, at a cost of millions of treasure and thousands of lives, on account of the political weakness and misrule of Korea, it could not possibly, with a wise regard either for its own interests or for those of the Korean people themselves, allow the repetition of similarly disastrous events. The two nations must learn to live together in amity and with their common interests guarded against invasion and injury from without. History had amply shown that this end could not be secured under existing conditions by Korea alone. The most sacred obligations, not only of self-interest, but also of a truly wise regard for the Emperor and his subjects, bound the Japanese Government to establish and maintain its protectorate over Korea.
Further: no foreign nation, least of all my own, whose constitution and traditional practice forbade such a thing, was at all likely to intervene between Japan and Korea. Those counsellors who had led him to hope for such intervention were deceiving him; and the money which he had contributed to their schemes was not simply spent in vain; it was beguiled from him to his own hurt and to the great injury of his own people, who needed that every yen of it should be judiciously expended upon developing the resources of the country and improving their own material condition.
From these points of view, which had regard chiefly, or even solely, to the interests of the crown and the Korean nation, I regarded the Resident-General as Korea’s best friend; and also—if the Emperor would have it so—his own best friend. Of Marquis Ito’s sincere and intelligent interest in Korea, no one who knew him could have the slightest doubt; the Emperor must see that the Marquis, as Resident-General, was in a position of power. To act truthfully and sincerely in his relations with this powerful friend, and to co-operate with his endeavors at the improvement of the national condition, would, then, be his own best way to secure for his people “instruction in right ways,” “the opening of their minds to enlightenment and modern ideas,” and an effective “contribution to their progress.”
Moreover, it must be remembered that there had been for centuries, and there were still, two parties in Japan, with reference to the proper treatment of Korea. One was the party which favored friendship between the two countries and a peaceful development of the interests so important to them both; the other was the party of the strong hand, which was always urging the immediate application of the most drastic measures. If it seemed desirable at any time for Japan to do so, the latter party was ready for subjugation of the country by the military and for putting it under military control. Marquis Ito had always been one of the foremost leaders of the party of peace; he had indeed risked not only his reputation as a far-seeing statesman, but even his personal safety and his life, in behalf of the peaceful policy. Let His Majesty carefully reflect upon what it would mean for him and for his country for the present peaceful plans of the Japanese Government, under the present Resident-General, to prove unavailing for their difficult task.
But if His Majesty continued to fail of an appreciation of the real situation, if he persisted in trusting those who were deceiving him with vain hopes and robbing him and the nation of its resources and its opportunity, I had the gravest fears that ruin would follow for him and for his house; and then great increase of trouble for the people of the land. All this I wished to say to him, not at all as a politician or as a diplomat, but as a teacher of morals and an observer of human affairs. Nor did I speak on account of my friendship for Marquis Ito simply; and not at all by His Excellency’s instigation or request. I was moved by a sincere desire to see Korea really prosperous and, if it might be so, to contribute in some small way to the instruction, enlightenment, and progress of its people.
This message was in due time faithfully transmitted to the Emperor of Korea, and was listened to with attention and apparently with the same friendly spirit with which it was sent. Its reception was followed by the “sincere (?) promise to heed its injunctions and with a protestation of respect and affection for Marquis Ito.” This is His Majesty’s habit when he is not excited for the moment by the passions of anger or fear. “In at one ear and out at the other”—such is the description which those who have had most experience with this monarch testify as to the real effect upon him of all such advice. If any honest intention is ever really formed to keep the promises, to be true to the protestations and pledges made on such occasions, it is habitually scattered to the winds by the next impure breath which blows upon him. A master of intrigue himself (an intrigue of the Korean type which combines as, perhaps, nowhere else in the world the unmixed elements of a tenuous subtlety and a fatuous silliness), the Emperor of Korea is also the victim and willing subject of intriguing eunuchs, concubines, sorceresses, Yang-bans, and unscrupulous and unsavory foreign adventurers. From his point of view, his missionary physician is his spy; and, from the same point of view, the guest of Marquis Ito was, as a matter of course, suspected of being a spy—in the one case in behalf of, in the other case against, his cherished interests. And these interests are not the welfare of his country, or even those more important and lasting interests that concern his own crown and the perpetuation of the royal house. They are sensuous and personal. Yet this complex character is truthfully described as amiable, kindly by preference, and ready to smile upon and give gifts to all. But this, too, is a problem which requires further consideration, as one of interest from the psychologist’s point of view not only, but also and chiefly, from the point of view which regards the social and political relations of Japan and Korea. At the time my message was delivered, and even before it was sent, the fatal mistake of sending a Commission to The Hague had been made. In the case of monarchs and of nations, as in the case of common folk—individuals and communities—there are promises sincerely made, but made too late, and penitence which follows but does not anticipate and prevent the last fatal consequences of years of folly and of crime.
To these results of my observations in Korea the following particulars should be added in this place. As has just been indicated, one of the strongest and most fixed impressions made was that of the well-nigh hopeless corruption of the Korean Court. Of intrigue and corruption there is doubtless enough in all courts, especially in those of Oriental countries. Nor are these evils by any means absent from the political centres of Republican Governments, whether of the national or local character. But the intrigue and corruption of the Korean Court are of a peculiarly despicable and, indeed, intolerable character. The premises in which it is housed at present are entirely lacking in any appearance of dignity; are, indeed, almost squalid. In a commonplace brick building were lodged the Emperor, the Crown Prince, Lady Om, the little Prince her son, and an innumerable number of court officials, court ladies, and eunuchs. The Cabinet Ministers in attendance during the night await the Imperial pleasure in a Korean house near the courtyard, in rooms hardly larger than horse-stalls. At times the contents of the cesspools, in close proximity to the main palace gates, offend both eyes and nose. So often as the rigorous inspection of the foreign lady in control of such affairs is relaxed, the filth in the apartments themselves begins to accumulate. Gifts to His Majesty, in value all the way from expensive screens to baskets of fruit, are appropriated by the court rabble to their own uses. Dishes, and even chairs, are often stolen by the lackeys and coolies at the Imperial garden-parties. Yet there is a marvellous display of gorgeous uniforms worn by the court functionaries; and these functionaries are numerous enough to cover all the usual bureaus, ceremonies, decorations, and offices really existing or imaginary, with the customary crowd of masters of ceremony and chamberlains thought needful for the courts of the largest and wealthiest nations. At the time of the disbandment of the army, thirty generals and only ten colonels constituted the corps of officers in command.