The year 1882 opened ominously. A fire broke out in the royal palace in Seoul, on January 27th, in which two buildings, nearly completed for the heir apparent, were burned down. The fire was at first believed to have political significance, and the tension of the public mind was not relaxed until it was shown that the fire was the result of pure accident.

The spirit of progress made advance, but discussion reached fever-heat in deciding whether the favor of Japan or China should be most sought, and which foreign nation, the United States, France, or England, should be admitted first to treaty rights. Bin, opposed to the arbitrary spirit of the Japanese, edged his argument by proposing an alliance with foreigners in order to checkmate the designs of Japan.

An event not unlooked for increased the power of the progressionists. One Kozaikai urged the plea of expulsion of foreigners in such intemperate language that he was accused of reproaching the sovereign. At the same time, a conspiracy against the life of the king, involving forty persons, was discovered, and the sword and torture came into play. Kozaikai was put to death, many of the conspirators were exiled, and the ringleaders were sentenced to be broken alive on the wheel, the revolutions of which tore off hands and feet in succession. Six of those doomed to death were spared, through the intercession of a minister, and one, the king’s cousin, who delivered himself up, was pardoned by his sovereign on the ground of the prisoner’s insanity. The Progressionists had now the upper hand, and early in the spring Giō Inchiu and Riōsen left on a mission to Tientsin, to acquaint the Americans and Chinese with the information that the Corean government was ready to make treaties, and that the proper officer would be at In-chiŭn to sign the compact and complete the negotiations.

Meanwhile the reforms in military affairs were begun with energy. [434]Japanese officers, at the head of whom was Lieutenant Horimoto, drilled picked men in Seoul, with creditable success, in spite of their unwieldy hats and costume, and the jeers of the anti-foreign people, in public as well as in private. Substantial proof of the adoption of Japan’s military system was shown in an order sent to Tōkiō for a few hundred Snider rifles with equipments—the weapon of the British army—and one for twenty thousand of the rifles made at the Japanese arsenal in Tōkiō, which, combining the merits of the best-known military fire-arm, contained improvements invented and patented by Colonel Murata, of the mikado’s army. Two Corean notables later again visited Japan in April of this year, and were annoyed to find a report spread abroad in Nagasaki that they had come to raise a money loan. Nevertheless, they proceeded to Kiōto and Tōkiō. Some of their suite went into the printing-offices and silk-worm breeding establishments to learn these arts, while type, presses, and printing material were ordered for use at home.

Affairs had so shaped themselves that even to outsiders it became evident that the Corean apple was ripe even to falling. By March 4th it was known at the American Legation in Peking that “Barkis was willin’,” while to the Japanese envoy then in Tōkiō it became certain that, unless he made all haste to In-chiŭn, the American commodore would have his treaty signed and be off without even waiting for a call. Hastily bidding his friends good-by, he left in the Japanese steamer, Iwaki Kuan, and arrived in the harbor just one hour before the American corvette Swatara arrived with Commodore Shufeldt on board. With the Swatara were three Chinese men-of-war, one of them an iron-clad.

The American diplomatic agent, Commodore R. W. Shufeldt, having spent nearly a year in China, surmounting difficulties that few will know of until the full history of the American treaty with Corea is written, arrived in the Swatara off Chimulpo, May 7th. Accompanied by three officers, Commodore Shufeldt went six miles into the interior to the office of the Corean magistrate to formulate the treaty. Though surrounded every moment by curious crowds, no disrespect was shown in any way. Two days afterward, the treaty document was signed on a point of land in a temporary pavilion opposite the ship. Thus, in the most modest manner the negotiations were concluded, and a treaty with the United States was, after repeated failures, secured by the gallant officer who, by this act [435]of successful diplomacy, closed a long and brilliant professional career.1

Both on the American and Corean side the results had been brought about only after severe toil. The Corean nobleman Bin, a cousin of the queen, had so labored in Seoul night and day to commit the government to the policy of making treaties with the Americans, that, when the messengers had been despatched with the order for Commodore Shufeldt to appear in Imperatrice Gulf, he fell ill, and was unable to appear at In-chiŭn. The American envoy was so worn out with anxiety and toil by his efforts to have Corea opened under Chinese auspices, that on landing at San Francisco, he retired to the naval hospital at Mare’s Island to recover his exhausted strength.

Four days after the signing of the American and Chinese treaties, the Corean capital was full of mirth and gayety, on account of a wedding in the royal family. The crown prince, a lad of nine years old, was wedded to the daughter of Jun, a nobleman of high rank, who had postponed a visit to Japan until the nuptials were accomplished. A brilliant procession in the streets of Seoul marked the event, and for a moment the excitement concerning foreigners was forgotten. None foresaw the bloody ending of this honeymoon so happily begun.

The British minister at Tōkiō, Sir Harry Parkes, who had left no stone unturned to secure a personal interview with the ambassador [436]in 1876, and, since that time, British trade with Corea, was still on the alert. He at once ordered Admiral Willes to proceed to In-chiŭn. Leaving his large fleet in Japanese waters, Admiral Willes left Nagasaki in the Vigilant, May 27th, while Mr. William G. Aston, the accomplished linguist and Corean scholar, received orders to follow. The Admiral’s business was soon despatched, a treaty was made, and his return to Yokohama was accomplished June 14th, the U. S. steamship Ashuelot saluting him on his arrival. The French and Germans were the next to improve the long-awaited opportunity. The German admiral left Japan in the man-of-war Stosch, on May 31st, while a vessel of the French navy entered the port of In-chiŭn June 5th. There had thus appeared in this sequestered nook of creation, within a few days, two American, three British, one French, one Japanese, and five Chinese armed vessels. All of them, except the French, had left by June 8th, to the great relief of the country folks and old men and women, many of whom, with the children, had fled to the hills when the big guns began to waste their powder in salutes, to the detriment of the thatched roofs of the houses.

China lost no time in taking advantage of the position secured her by treaty. No vexatious delays of ratification troubled her. Everything had been arranged beforehand with the Coreans, so that, on the return of the vessels from In-chiŭn, officers were despatched to Shanghae to sail for Gensan and Fusan, and select land for public buildings.

During the present year the Japanese legation in Seoul has numbered about forty persons, including secretaries, interpreters, military officers, policemen, students, and servants. Notwithstanding their precarious situation, amid the turbulent elements at work around them, they seemed to enjoy the spectacle before their eyes of a repetition of the history of their own country after Perry’s arrival in 1853. The young men of the legation visited the historic sites near the capital, enjoyed the mountain and river scenery, and studied the Corean language and literature. At first the common people believed that their visitors sucked the blood of the children lured away by them; and so carefully guarded their little ones. By and by, however, as more liberty was afforded them, the occasional pelting with vegetables and pebbles became less frequent, and even the women would talk with them.

The light-hearted Japanese seemed to suspect no imminent danger, although the old fanatic and tyrant Tai-wen Kun was still alive and plotting. To insure perfect secrecy for his plans, it is said [437]that he employed two or three mutes to wait on him, and act as his messengers. He was the centre of all the elements hostile to innovation, and being a man of unusual ability, was possessed of immense influence. The populace of Seoul and of the country had been taught to believe that “the Japanese were inebriated with the manners of Christian nations, and were enchanted by the Western devils, and that as a Europeanized country of the devil was being created in their immediate neighborhood, they must expel the barbarians.” Every means had been used to inflame the people against foreigners. Stone monuments had been set up on the high roads and market-places which bore this inscription—“The Western barbarians will come to invade our soil, there are but two alternatives for Chō-sen; to go to war, or to maintain peace. To submit peacefully means to sell the country; therefore we Coreans must resort to arms.” Many thousands of these inscribed stones had been set up, and an edict had been issued, commanding the ink-makers to inscribe their sticks of ink with this inflammatory declaration. When nobles of high rank would advocate progresssive views, Tai-wen Kun would sneeringly dare them to remove these anti-foreign monuments.

During the nine years of his nominal retirement from office, from 1873 to 1882, this bigoted Confucianist, who refused to know anything of the outer world, bided his time and waited his opportunity, which came during the summer of the present year. Just when the populace was most excited over the near presence of the Americans and other foreigners at In-chiŭn, the usual rainfall was withheld, the wells dried up, and in the consequent drouth, the rice crop was threatened with total failure. The diviners, sorcerers, and anti-foreign party took advantage of the situation to play on the fears of the superstitious people. The spirits, displeased at the intrusion of the Western devils, were angry and were cursing the land. At the same time the soldiery of the capital were disaffected, as some say on account of arrearages of wages, or as others aver, because the old warriors of the bow and arrow hated the Japanese method of drilling as a foreign innovation insulting to the gods. A more probable reason is that on account of the failure of the rice-harvest, the soldiers’ rations were cut down, and they were deprived of this choice cereal for food. Among the first Corean officers killed was the superintendent of the rice storehouses, which were pillaged by the hungry mob.

On July 23d, while the king was out in the open air praying [438]for rain, a mob of sympathizers with Tai-wen Kun attempted to seize his person. The king escaped to the castle. According to one account, some mischief-maker then started the report in the city that the Japanese had attacked the royal castle, and had seized the king and queen, and that the prime minister with the palace-guards in vainly endeavoring to beat back the assailants, had been defeated; and that every Corean should take up arms. Forthwith the mob rushed with frantic violence upon the legation, murdering the Japanese policemen and students whom they met in the streets and the Japanese military instructors in the barracks. Not satisfied with this, the rioters, numbering 4,000 men, attacked and destroyed the houses of the ministers favoring foreign intercourse. Before quiet was restored, the queen, Min, the heir apparent and his wife, the chief ministers of the government, Min Thai Ho and Min Yong Ik, were, as was supposed, murdered; but all these emerged alive. Many of the Mins and seven Japanese were killed.

The Japanese, by their own account, had suspected no danger until the day of the riot, when they noticed great excitement among the people, and that crowds were assembling and rushing to and fro. They sent out a policeman to inquire into the nature of the disturbance, and at two o’clock P.M. they learned from a native that the mob would attack the legation. Word was also sent to the Japanese by the Corean officer in charge of the drill-ground where the troops were trained by Lieutenant Horimoto, saying that the troops drilled in Japanese tactics had been attacked, and the legation would next be in danger. Hanabusa and his suite then arranged a plan of defence. While thus engaged, a Corean employed at the legation informed them that the mob had destroyed the houses of the two ministers Bin, and were attacking three Japanese students. Three policemen well armed then left to succor the students, but nothing was heard from either policemen or students again. A Corean officer now appeared and warned the Japanese to escape to the hill back of the legation; and being requested by Hanabusa to ask the government for soldiers, he left on this errand. At 5.50 P.M. the mob reached the legation, and raising a united yell, fired volleys of bullets, arrows, and big stones at the legation, but dared not enter the gate to face the revolvers of the policemen. In hurling stones the ruffians showed remarkable skill. The mob set on fire a house, near by, and in the rising wind—then boding a coming storm—two out-houses of the legation were burned, the police shooting down the incendiaries when they could see them. It was now [439]about ten o’clock, and the ruffians having thrown up barricades to hem in their victims and to shield their cowardly carcases while shooting, the Japanese fired the remaining buildings, and armed only with swords and pistols, formed themselves into a circle, charged the mob, and cut their way through to the house of the chief magistrate, which they found empty. Finding no one in the official residence, they marched to the southern gate of the royal castle. Instead of opening it, the soldiers on the wall above pelted them with stones.

Hanabusa now resolved to cross the river with his party and make his way to In-chiŭn. Turning their backs on the flames, they arrived at the river and, on the ferryman refusing to convey them across, they seized the boat and crossed safely to the other side. It was now past midnight and the rain began to fall heavily, and with occasional thunderstorms continued to pour down all night. The refugees plunged on through the darkness, often losing their way, but next day at ten o’clock, they procured some raw barley to eat, and through the pelting rain pushed on, reaching In-chiŭn at 3 P.M. The governor received them kindly and supplied food and dry clothing. The Japanese officers slept in the official residence, and the servants, police, and others in a guard-house about fifteen yards distant. The governor posted his own sentinels to watch so that the Japanese could get some rest. In a few minutes the tired men were sleeping the sleep of exhaustion.

About five o’clock, Hanabusa and his officers were suddenly awakened by the shouting of a mob outside; and in a moment more a Japanese entered covered with blood, and with a drawn sword in his hand with which he had cut his way. The mob had attacked them while they were asleep, and the soldiers of the local garrison were joining the rioters, firing from behind fences. All the Japanese now hurried on their clothes, and charging a body of about forty soldiers, armed with swords and spears, who were blocking the gateway, made for Chi-mul-po seaport, having lost three killed and two missing.

Meeting two Japanese on horseback from the port, who reported that the road was free from ambuscades, they put the wounded man on one horse, and by another despatched one of their number to hasten forward and have a boat ready. They reached Chi-mul-po, the port, about seven o’clock, and immediately crossed over to Roze Island for safety. About midnight, having procured a junk, they put to sea, toward Nanyo Bay, where they knew the British gunboat [440]Flying Fish was then on survey. Encountering a southerly wind, they made little or no progress, and on the 26th a dense fog set in; but at 11.30 A.M., it cleared up and the welcome sight of a three-masted vessel greeted their eyes. Hoisting the flag of Japan, they saw their signal answered, and soon the party of twenty-six half-naked, hungry, and cold refugees were on board the ship, where kindest treatment awaited them. That night at ten o’clock the Flying Fish sailed for Nagasaki. On August 3d a religious service in memory of their slain comrades was held by the survivors, at Shimonoséki. “The deep silence was only broken by the sobbing of the audience, overcome by deep sympathy for the murdered men.” On the 8th Hanabusa had an audience with the mikado in Tōkiō.

Without hesitation, the Japanese government ordered the army to assemble at Shimonoséki and Tsushima, with naval forces to co-operate. Hanabusa and his suite were sent back, escorted by a military force. He re-entered Seoul, August 16th, and was received with courtesy. A fleet of Chinese war-vessels with a force of four thousand troops was also at hand. Apparently everything was under the control of Tai-wen Kun, who professed to be friendly to foreigners, and to ascribe the recent riot to a sudden uprising of the unpaid soldiery, which the government had not force at hand to suppress. Two Corean officers coming on board the Flying Fish, August 10th, informed Captain Hoskyn that the soldiery, dissatisfied with the unfair treatment of their superiors, had incited the peasantry to rebellion; that by orders of Tai-wen Kun, who bitterly regretted the recent outrages, the dead Japanese had been honorably buried; that the old regent while usurping the royal power, had professed a total change of views and was in favor of a progressive policy.

At his audience with the king, August 20th, Hanabusa presented the demands of his government. These were nominally agreed to, but several days passing without satisfactory action, Hanabusa having exhausted remonstrance and argument, left Seoul August 25th and returned to his ship. This unexpected move—a menace of war—brought the usurper to terms. On receipt of Tai-wen Kun’s apologies, the Japanese envoy returned to the capital August 30th and full agreement was given to the demands of Japan, at which time it would appear, Tai-wen Kun, forcibly kidnapped by the envoy of China, had begun his travels into the country of Confucius. [441]

The following telegram to the New York Tribune of October 2d, summarizes the news from Yokohama up to September 13th:

The Corean Government pledged itself to the following conditions: To arrest the insurgents within twenty days and inflict due punishment upon them, Japanese delegates to be present at the trial; to bury properly the bodies of those murdered and pay 50,000 yen (dollars) to their families; to pay Japan 500,000 yen as indemnity for expenditure, etc., in five yearly instalments; to allow Japanese troops in Seoul for the protection of the legation, and to provide proper accommodations for them; to send an apology by a special embassy to Japan; to extend gradually privileges to the Japanese residents and traders; to afford proper conveniences for travel throughout Corea for the Japanese Government officials.

While this was going on the Chinese envoy, who had remained inactive with his escort until August 25th, suddenly called up the full body of his troops, about three or four thousand, to the capital. What degree of pressure he may have exercised is not yet known, but it is certain that the chief rebel and assassin, the Tai-wen Kun, was taken on board a Chinese ship and carried to Tien-tsin. It is alleged that his departure was by no means voluntary, and that some physical effort was required to get him ashore on arriving at his destination. Whatever was the object of this proceeding, it must have been dictated by Li Hung Chang, the Chinese Viceroy at Tien-tsin, who seems to have quite abandoned his demeanor of calm stolidity during these active Corean transactions. It is declared by one Chinese party that the only purpose was to rescue the Tai-wen Kun from the dangers that threatened him, and by another that the intent was still to maintain the theory of sovereign control over Corea’s rulers, which Li Hung Chang has been straining for throughout.

During the recent prospect of trouble with Corea, the Japanese Government received offers of military service from twenty thousand volunteers, and of money gifts to the value of 200,000 yen.

At this stage of affairs, when Corea ceases to be a “hermit nation,” and stands in the glare of the world’s attention, we bring our imperfect story to a close. The pivot of the future history of Eastern Asia is Corea. On her soil will be decided the problem of supremacy, by the jealous rivals China, Japan, and Russia. The sudden assumption of self-imposed tutelary duties by China proves her lively interest in the little country, which has been called both “her right arm of defense,” and “her gloved hand”—the one to force back the ravenous Muscovite, the other to warn off the ambitious Japanese. Whether the Middle Kingdom has deliberately chosen the Land of Morning Calm to affront and humiliate “the neighbor-disturbing nation,” that twice humbled her pride in the fairest islands of the sea—Formosa and Riu Kiu—the events of the not distant future will soon determine. Whether the hoary empire [442]shall come in collision with the young northern giant, and the dragon and the bear tear each other in the slime of war in Corean valleys, may be a question the solution of which is not far off. We trust that amid all dangers, the integrity of the little kingdom may be preserved; but whatever be the issue upon the map of the world, let us hope that paganism, bigotry, and superstition in Corea, and in all Asia, may disappear; and that in their places, the religion of Jesus, science, education, and human brotherhood may find an abiding dwelling-place. [443]