In Korea with Marquis Ito

by George Trumbull Ladd

Again and again did the Resident-General affirm that the helping of Korea was on his conscience and on his heart; that he cared nothing for criticism or opposition, if only he could bring about this desirable result of good to the Koreans themselves. He then went on to say that diplomatic negotiations between Japan and both Russia and France were so far advanced that a virtual entente cordiale had already been reached. Treaties, formally concluded, would soon, he hoped and believed, secure definite terms for the continuance of peaceful relations. Japan had already received from Russia proposals for such a permanent arrangement; the reply of Japan was so near a rapprochement to the proposals of Russia as to encourage the judgment that actual agreement on the terms of a treaty could not be far away. The situation, indeed, was now such that Russia had invited Japan to make counter proposals. The present Foreign Minister of Russia the Marquis regarded as one of his most trusted friends; the Russian Minister was ready, in the name of the Czar, to affirm his Government’s willingness to abandon the aggressive policy toward Korea and Manchuria, in case Japan would, on her part, pledge herself to be content with her present possessions. The status quo was, then, to be the basis of the new treaties. Great Britain, as Japan’s ally, was not only ready for this, but was approaching Russia with a view to a settlement of the questions in controversy between the two nations, in regard to Persia, Afghanistan, and elsewhere, where they had common interests. France would, as a nation on good terms with both Great Britain and Russia, and as herself the friend of peace, gladly agree. He was, then, hopeful that in the near future a permanent basis of peace for the whole Orient might be secured by concurrence of the four great nations most immediately interested.

To these disclosures of his plans and hopes, so frankly and fully made as to excite my surprise, Marquis Ito then added the wish that I should at this time, or subsequently while on the ground, ask of him any questions whatever, information on which might guide in forming a correct judgment as to the situation there, or assist in the effort toward the improvement educationally, industrially, or morally, of the Koreans themselves. In reply I expressed my satisfaction at the confidences which His Excellency had given me, and my hearty sympathy with his plans for the peaceful development of Korea. Nothing, it seemed to me, could be more important in the interests of humanity than to have the strife of foreign nations for a selfish supremacy in the Far East come to a speedy end. But the perfect freedom of inquiry and action allowed to me was in some sort an embarrassment. It would have been easier to have had a definite work assigned, and a definite method prescribed. However, I should do the best that my inexperience in such matters made possible, in order to justify his favorable judgment.

It was my intention at first to prepare for the work in Korea by much reading of books. But the professional and social demands made upon both time and strength, to the very last hour of our stay in Japan, prevented the carrying out of this intention. When, later on, it became possible to read what had previously been published, I discovered that the deprivation was no hindrance, but perhaps a positive advantage, to the end of success in my task. A story of recent experiences of Korean intrigue which had already been reported to me in detail was of more practical value than the reading of many learned treatises. The story was as follows: Among the several representatives of American Christian and benevolent enterprises who have recently visited that country, for the size of his audiences and the warmth of his greeting, one had been particularly distinguished. At his first public address, some four thousand persons, men and boys (for the Korean women are never seen at such gatherings) had attempted to crowd into “Independence Hall.” Of these, however, nine-tenths came with the vague feeling that it is somehow for the political interest of Koreans to seem friendly to citizens of foreign Christian countries—especially of the United States—in order to secure help for themselves in an appeal to interfere with the Japanese administration. In this case the speaker was at first supposed to have great political influence. But the audience, seeing that the subjects of address were religious rather than political, fell off greatly on the second occasion. Meanwhile, some of the Korean officials, in order to win credit for themselves for procuring the audience, had falsely reported that the Korean Emperor wished to see this distinguished representative from America. But when they learned that application for the audience had been duly made, through the proper Japanese official, they came around again and, with many salaams and circuitous approaches, expressed the regrets of His Majesty that, being indisposed, he was unable to grant the audience which had been applied for. At the very time of this second falsehood, the proper official was in the act of making out the permit to enter the palace. The audience came off. And while the American guest was in the waiting-room, the Minister of the Household, watching his chance to escape observation, with his hand upon his heart, appealed to the distinguished American for his nation’s sympathy against the oppression of the Japanese. During the two months of my own experience with the ways of the Koreans, all this, and much more of the same sort, was abundantly and frequently illustrated. And, indeed, no small portion of the recent movement toward Christianity is more a political than a religious affair. But of this I shall speak in detail later on.

It was the understanding with Marquis Ito at the interview in Kyoto that he should have me informed at Nagasaki, at some time between March 20th and 24th, when he desired us to come to Seoul; and that arrangements should then be made for meeting our Japanese escort at Shimonoseki. On returning to the hotel parlor the Marquis apologized to Mrs. Ladd for keeping her husband away so long, and remarked, playfully, that the diplomatic part of the conference was not to be communicated even to her, until its expectations had become matters of history.

Three days later we started for Nagasaki, where I was to spend somewhat more than a week lecturing to the teachers of the Prefecture, and to the pupils of the Higher Commercial School. As we crossed the straits to Moji, the sun rose gloriously over the mountains and set the sea, the shore, and the ships in the two harbors aglow with its vitalizing fire. The police officer assigned to guard his country’s guests, pointed out to us the battleship waiting to take the Resident-General to his difficult and unappreciated work in Korea; and nearer the other side of the channel we noted with pleasure the Aki Maru, on which six months before we had crossed the Northern Pacific.

It had been in my plans, even before reaching Japan, to spend a month or two in Kiushu, a part of the Empire which is in some respects most interesting, and which I had never visited before. And, indeed, in reliance on a telegram from Tokyo which read: “Fix your own date, telegraph Zumoto” (the gentleman who was to accompany us from Shimonoseki), “Seoul,” arrangements had already been completed for lectures at Fukuoka, and had been begun for a short course also at Kumamoto. But the very next day after these instructions had been followed, a telegram came from Mr. Zumoto himself, who was already waiting at Shimonoseki to accompany us to Seoul, inquiring when we could start, and adding that “the Marquis hoped it would be at once.” All engagements besides the one at Nagasaki were therefore promptly cancelled. On the evening of March 24th, Mr. Akai, who had been our kindly escort in behalf of the friends at Nagasaki, put us into the hands of our escort to Korea, at the station in Moji.

Since the steamer for Fusan did not start until the following evening, we had the daylight hours to renew our acquaintance with Shimonoseki. The historical connections which this region has had with our distinguished host made the time here all the more vividly interesting. At this place, as an obscure young man, Ito had risked his life in the interests of progress by way of peace; and here, too, as the Commissioner of his Emperor, the now celebrated Marquis had concluded the treaty with China through her Commissioner, Li Hung Chang. But what need be said about the story of these enterprises belongs more properly with the biography of the man. At about 8.30 o’clock in the evening of March 25th the harbor launch, with the chief of the harbor police in charge, conveyed the party to the ship Iki Maru. The evening was lovely; bright moonlight, mild breeze, and moderate temperature. After tea, at about eleven, we “turned in” to pass a comfortable night in a well-warmed and well-ventilated cabin.

I have dwelt with what might otherwise seem unnecessary detail upon my invitation to Korea, because it throws needed light upon the nature and opportunity of this visit, as well as upon the character of the man who gave the invitation, and of the administration of which he is the guiding mind and the inspiring spirit. I was to be entirely independent, absolutely free from all orders or even suggestions, to form an opinion as to the sincerity and wisdom of the present Japanese administration, as to the character and needs of the Korean public, and as to the Korean Court. The fullest confidential information on all points was to be freely put at my disposal; but the purpose of the visit was to be in full accord with that of the Residency-General—namely, to help the Koreans, and to convince all reasonable foreigners of the intention to deal justly with them. Suggestions as to any possible improvements were earnestly requested. For I hesitate to say that His Excellency, with a sincerity which could not be doubted, asked that I should advise him whenever I thought best. So far as this understanding properly extends, the unmerited title of “Unofficial Adviser to the Resident-General,” bestowed by some of the foreign and native papers, was not wholly misplaced. But the term is more creditable to the sincerity of Marquis Ito than to my own fitness for any such title. “Adviser,” in any strictly official or political meaning of the term, is a word altogether inappropriate to describe our relations at any time.