In Korea with Marquis Ito

by George Trumbull Ladd

It must be confessed that there was good ground for indignation in Japan. A domestic revolution had taken place in Seoul, attended by many of the incidents common where government is “despotism tempered by assassination.” But neither Japan nor her agents were responsible for that. Mr. Takezoye, the Japanese Minister, had gone to the Palace with his bodyguard, at the King’s request, to guard the royal person. It was a technical mistake, no doubt on the Minister’s part, for he should not have interfered in the matter, or, at the most, should have asked the King to come to the Legation. But there can be no doubt that he acted in good faith. He was an amiable scholar rather than a diplomat and had always maintained the most cordial personal relations with the King. The latter was never in any sense a prisoner in his hands, as was shown conclusively by the visit of the foreign representatives. The populace of Seoul, egged on by the conservatives, took a different view, however, as did also the large force of Chinese troops gathered at the Chinese Legation. The former slaughtered all the Japanese they could reach, and the latter, some 3,000 in number, in company with several hundred Korean soldiers, attacked the Japanese soldiers. The little Japanese force (143 in number, not 400 as Hulbert states) beat them off with heavy loss, without themselves suffering any serious casualties. By that time, however, the conservatives had gained the upper hand in the palace. The King informed Mr. Takezoye that he did not require further assistance from him, preferring to be guarded by his own soldiers; whereupon the Minister, as in duty bound, returned to the Legation. He found his position untenable, however, and resolved to go to Chemulpo. There were about 200 non-combatants at the Legation to be cared for, among them many women and children. Guarding these as best they could the little band of soldiers started for the city gate through streets filled with a hostile mob. It was a dangerous march; a march which foreigners who were in Seoul at the time described to me with admiration. Numbers of armed Koreans were gathered to oppose it, not the least formidable being those who threw stones and other missiles from the house tops. At one point some Korean soldiers brought out Gatling guns, but these were charged and disabled before any use could be made of them. The Japanese forced their way, finally, through the West Gate, and thence on to Chemulpo, with casualties of one killed and a number wounded. The Legation was looted and set on fire several hours after it was deserted, and was completely destroyed.

Mr. Takezoye was at Chemulpo when Count Inouye arrived on the 31st of December. The Count was also met by Mr. von Mollendorff, a high official of the Chinese Customs, detailed for duty in Korea, who likewise acted in a diplomatic capacity. Count Inouye informed him that he intended to go to Seoul at once and to demand an audience at the earliest practicable moment. Mr. von Mollendorff had various reasons to urge for delay, but Count Inouye swept them aside, and the Embassy proceeded to Seoul the next day; it was accompanied by about 400 soldiers, a smaller force having been left at Chemulpo. In Seoul, where they arrived that night, the Ambassador and suite were lodged in the yamen of the Governor of the City, just outside the West Gate. The same night the Ambassador presented his formal request for an immediate audience. It met with the customary Oriental reception: His Majesty was not in robust health; the Ambassador himself must be tired and in need of rest after his long journey; the attention of His Majesty was occupied with preparations for a fitting reception of His Excellency, and so on. Mr. von Mollendorff was kept very busy running back and forth, but finally it was made clear to the minds of the King’s advisers that Count Inouye meant exactly what he said, and that disagreeable things might happen if he did not have his way.

The audience was finally appointed for January 3d. On the morning of that day the cavalcade set forth, a military band trained by a foreign band-master in the van; then a mounted guard of honor; then the Ambassador, accompanied by Admiral Kabayama and General Takashima and followed by his secretaries, and bringing up the rear a company of infantry. As the procession passed through the Gate and emerged into the wide street leading to the East Gate, a curious and inspiriting spectacle presented itself. The morning was fresh and clear; the air crisp and invigorating, and the broad, sunny street as far as the eye could see was one mass of gaily clad humanity, men dressed in coats of every color, white, as is usual, predominating. The crowds parted before the head of the procession like waves beneath the prow of a ship; the Korean police ran alongside plying their many-thonged whips with indiscriminate zeal; and then, as if to add the last queer touch to the whole proceeding, the band struck up “Dixie.”

Nor did odd happenings end here. When the procession arrived at the triple gates of the Palace, the centre gate was closed. Count Inouye halted the line immediately and demanded the reason. It was explained by Mr. Mollendorff that the centre gate was reserved for the King, and that the side gates were used by the highest dignitaries. Count Inouye replied that he was an Ambassador, the personal representative of his sovereign, and that as such he could not pass through an inferior entrance. Back went the messenger behind the barred gate, and in a few minutes appeared again breathlessly explaining that to their great chagrin and regret, royal etiquette, binding upon His Majesty as upon his lowest subject, could not be disregarded. Upon that Count Inouye blandly retorted that he also was bound by etiquette, immutable and unchangeable; and that if the gate was not opened within three minutes, much to his regret he would be obliged to retrace his steps and to report to his Imperial Master this new slight to Japan. The gate was opened without further delay.

After that the audience passed off smoothly. Count Inouye was careful to impress upon the King’s mind, as upon the minds of his advisers, that while his mission was one of peace, much depended upon the sincerity and promptitude with which Korea met Japan’s just demands for redress and upon the guarantees she gave against the recurrence of like causes of complaint. The negotiations throughout were conducted in that spirit. The Ambassador was kindly and considerate, but would tolerate no paltering or double-dealing. He couched his demands in firm but friendly language, made every allowance for the embarrassing position in which the King found himself, placed the responsibility for what had happened where it belonged, but made it very clear all the while that neither he nor his government would be trifled with. This was shown in a sensational way at the first formal meeting of the Ambassador with the Korean plenipotentiaries. The meeting had hardly convened when suddenly a bustle was heard in the courtyard, and, without further notice, the Chinese Consul-General entered, suavely bowing to those present. Paying no attention to him, Count Inouye sprang to his feet and demanded of the Chief Korean Plenipotentiary what the intrusion meant, and whether the Chinese official had ventured upon this extraordinary step with his knowledge and consent. If that were the case, he would regard it as his duty to break off the negotiations at once, for the Japanese Government would not tolerate for a moment any interference of that kind, and would warmly resent Korea’s connivance with it. There was a hasty disavowal on the Korean side, the Consul-General lamely adding that as China and Japan and Korea were friends, and as the matter under discussion was of interest to all three, he had come of his own accord to participate in a friendly way in the proceedings. He thereupon withdrew somewhat less blithely than he had entered. Count Inouye then repeated what he had said and gave the Korean plenipotentiaries clearly to understand that he would not tolerate the repetition of such childish antics, but would regard them, if again attempted, as reason for the gravest offence. This warning had its effect; the negotiations thereafter proceeded expeditiously and the Convention was signed on the 9th of January. It stipulated an apology; the payment of an indemnity of 110,000 yen to the relatives of the murdered and the merchants who had been plundered; the punishment of the murderers of Captain Isobayashi, military attaché; the furnishing of sites for legation and consulate, materials for building the same, and 20,000 yen to pay the cost of construction; the building of barracks for Japanese troops adjacent to the Legation; and further that the murderers of Captain Isobayashi should be punished within twenty days after the convention was signed.

The events of 1882 and 1884 had emphasized what the entire history of the relations of Japan and Korea had made manifest—namely, that some distinct understanding with China must be reached if the two neighboring countries were ever to live together in peace. The task of establishing such an understanding was assigned to Marquis Ito, and in the spring of 1885 he proceeded to China as Japan’s special Ambassador. Li Hung Chang, who was then Viceroy of Chi-li, was the Ambassador appointed by the Peking Government. The latter appointment was the more significant because Li was supposed to entertain a profound distrust and dislike of the Japanese; moreover, Yuan Shi Kai, whose subsequent career has been so important in the politics of the Far East, and who had been in command of the Chinese soldiers at the time of their slaughter of the Japanese in 1884, was a protégé of Li’s. In spite of the inherent difficulties, the broad statesmanship and frankness of the Marquis overcame them; and the intercourse of these two men, whose personality and policy afterward had so much to do with the history of their respective countries, resulted in their becoming friends. The Chinese statesman expressed regret that he had not met Ito before, since he had now for the first time gained a correct conception of Japan’s policy; he even went so far as to ask the Marquis to mention the need of governmental reforms to the Dowager Empress of China, who became angry at him, her own Viceroy, when he ventured to refer to the matter before her.

On the 18th of April, 1885, a Convention was signed which was intended to prevent in the future all recurrence of events similar to those of the previous December. The important point of this Convention is that both sides pledged themselves against armed interference in Korea except in pressing emergencies and after mutual consultation. This agreement, while it saved the “face” of China—a matter so imperatively important from the Chinese point of view—was a virtual abandonment of her claim of suzerainty; for it gave to Japan, which made no such claim, equal interest in the internal affairs of Korea and equal right to send troops into its territory, in case the judgment of both countries recognized such a need. The agreement also promised good for Korea herself, since it made the use of Chinese or Japanese soldiers in control of Korean affairs more unlikely for trifling reasons; and, on the other hand, it safeguarded her against other foreign armed intervention as the result of her domestic intrigues.

The story of what followed and led up to the war with Japan is, briefly, as follows: The stipulations of this Convention were observed by Japan both in letter and in spirit, and by China, upon the surface at least. For a few years neither Power sent troops to Korea; and China ceased to flaunt the claim to suzerainty before her neighbor’s face. But she still cherished the fiction and sought to maintain by indirection, and by means peculiarly Chinese, what she had failed to uphold in the open. Thus, in 1887, as stated in Moore’s Digest of International Law: “The Chinese Government sought to prevent the departure of a Korean envoy to the United States on the ground of the dependent relation of Korea toward China. The American Minister at Peking was instructed to express surprise and regret at this action on the part of the Chinese Government. The envoy finally set out on his journey, but when he arrived in the United States the Chinese Minister at Washington wrote the Department of State to the effect that the Korean envoy would, on his arrival there, report to the Chinese Legation, and would be presented through it to the Department of State; after which he might apply for an opportunity to present his credentials to the President.

“The Korean envoy, on the day after his arrival in Washington, addressed a note to Mr. Bayard, as Secretary of State, asking for an interview to arrange for the presentation of his credentials to the President. Such an arrangement was duly made, and the envoy was presented without the intervention of the Chinese Minister. ‘As the United States,’ said Mr. Bayard, ‘have no privity with the interrelations of China and Korea, we shall treat both as separate governments customarily represented here by their respective and independent agents.’”