After accepting Marquis Ito’s formal invitation to attempt a special kind of service in Korea, the first problem to be solved concerned the choice of ways for approaching that service. Its solution was by no means obvious. In Japan there were more of urgent requests for public addresses and lectures of various kinds than could possibly be accepted. And everywhere that the speaker went, influential and large organizations of an educational and public character, to whose support the governors, of the Kens and the mayors of the cities were officially committed, could be relied upon to make all necessary arrangements and to carry the arrangements through effectively. More important still, there was the most eager interest in the subjects upon which the prospective audiences wished to be addressed, and the attitude of an open mind and even of warm personal attachment toward “the friend of Japan.” In Korea, however, all the influences would be of precisely the opposite character—indifference, deficiencies, hindrances, if not active opposition, so far as the native attitude was concerned. In Korea there were no educational associations; and, outside of a very small circle in a few cities, there was little or no interest in education. The local magistrates were, almost without exception, devoted to “squeezes” rather than to the increase of intelligence and the moral improvement of their districts. The teachers of the few existing schools were, in general, without any modern culture; they were even without the most rudimentary ideas on the subjects of pedagogy, ethics, and religion. Only in a small number of places were there any halls that could accommodate an audience, should one be gathered by an appeal to curiosity and to the Korean thirst for “look-see”; while to be known as a “friend of Japan” and a guest of Marquis Ito was to erect an almost insuperable obstacle in the way of reaching the ears of the Korean upper and middle classes, to say nothing of convincing their minds or touching their hearts. Addressing the lower classes on any scholastic topic was impossible. Through what organ, then, could a stranger help the Resident-General in his benevolent plans for the welfare of the people of Korea?

Reflection upon this problem of a means of approach to the Koreans ended in the fortunate choice of the Young Men’s Christian Association at Seoul. To be sure, the direct influence of this association is at present wisely limited to the capital city. The illicit organization of branch associations, which was undertaken for political purposes by the Koreans themselves, has made it necessary to check, rather than encourage, all efforts to multiply Y. M. C. A. societies in places beyond the immediate and unceasingly watchful control of the foreign secretaries. The same hypocritical and unscrupulous use of the name of religion for purposes of political intrigue compelled the Methodist Mission in Korea to break up the “Epworth League.” A letter to a friend in Tokyo, explaining my purposes and my embarrassment, resulted in the following telegram, which was received in Shimonoseki late in the evening of the day before sailing for Fusan:

These words illumined to no small degree the prospect of establishing relations favorable to the success of the proposed plans.

In this connection it is pertinent to say that I had been advised to seek especially the counsel and assistance of Bishop Turner of the Church of England, and of the Korean, Mr. Yun Chi-ho. The Bishop was the president of the Young Men’s Association; and the Korean gentleman is of good family, has a well-merited reputation for honesty, and has been prominent in religious work among his own people. As the history of my experiences will show, I was disappointed with respect to both these sources of information and help. Bishop Turner was either absent or ill during nearly the entire time of my stay in Korea; and Mr. Yun Chi-ho exhibited so persistently and adroitly the qualities which I had heard described as “a pessimistic disposition,” and which in the opinion of all who knew him, both natives and foreigners, unfitted him for incurring any of the responsibilities of leadership, as to somewhat hamper rather than assist any efforts in behalf of his own people. It was not, of course, to be expected that a Korean Yang-ban should willingly confess the demonstrated incapacity of the Korean nation for self-government; even less, perhaps, that he should himself assist the Japanese in doing for his own people what they never have done, and never could do, for themselves. But that intelligent native Christians should take an attitude of passive opposition to offers of assistance on matters of education, morality and religion from a friendly foreigner of another nation, simply because that foreigner was the guest of the Japanese Resident-General, shows how characteristic and deep-seated are the obstacles which the official class are opposing to the redemption of Korea. But I was to witness the manifestation of the extreme form of the same feeling toward the association of those of their own countrymen who were co-operating with the Japanese in plans for reform.

The morning after our arrival in Seoul, at about 10.30 o’clock, Marquis Ito sent Mr. Zumoto to conduct me to his private office in the Residency House. The official residence is one of a group of buildings belonging to the Japanese Government and situated upon a succession of spurs from the mountain Nam-san, in a portion of the city which lies beyond the Japanese quarters. The surrounding grounds, especially from points above the house, command fine views of the city, and are being constantly improved and beautified in accordance with Japanese taste. So lonely are the mountainous heights above the grounds that numerous wild-cats have descended upon the chicken-yard of the Residency, and more than a dozen of these pests have been caught in traps and are now caged as part of a small menagerie or private “Zoo.” There are persons now living in Seoul, not of advanced age, who have encountered tigers of the “man-eating” species, to say nothing of less formidable wild beasts, such as leopards and foxes, within the city walls.

At this morning’s interview the Marquis was the first to speak, after a few minutes of silence which followed the exchange of greetings. But it was only to say that, of course, he could procure me invitations from the Japanese to give public addresses, and even, he presumed, from the Koreans; this, however—especially in the latter case—would probably embarrass my work, since it would subject it to suspicion. After these words he paused in a way to suggest an invitation for me to speak freely of my plans. I began by saying that I had no training or experience in matters of diplomacy; but I believed that, for me at least, the best course of action would conform to these two rules: to be entirely frank and good-tempered when you had anything to say; and to know when and how to hold your tongue if silence seemed the proper policy. At this the Marquis laughed—it seemed approvingly. In brief, the plans, as far as formed at present, were as follows. As to Mission:—Public: I was here as the guest of Marquis Ito, to speak to the Koreans in a sincerely friendly way, on matters of education, morals, and religion, especially as these matters concerned their national welfare; private: to discover what I could which might assist the Resident-General in dealing with his difficult problem and to assure all, whom I could reach, that he sincerely wished to serve the real interests of the Koreans and to secure for them the administration of justice and an increased prosperity. As to Message:—Public: that the real prosperity of the individual and of society can be secured only by developing a character which deserves it; and private, as already defined by the private mission. As to Means:—Since there are in Korea no Teachers’ Associations, I hoped to work through the Young Men’s Christian Association and through such other connected agencies as they might secure; and especially to get opportunities to address Missionary Schools and Christian congregations in the churches. I also hoped to form friendly relations with the missionaries and with some of the diplomats and foreign business men in order to learn their views of the situation and to gain from them information and suggestions for its improvement. Especially did it seem to me desirable that the spiritual forces wielded by the missionaries should co-operate for the good of Korea with the political forces wielded by the Resident-General.

At this first interview, as at all subsequent interviews during my stay in Korea, the Resident-General uniformly replied in the negative to every request for criticism of my plans, or even for suggestions as to their improvement. On one particular occasion when I ventured to repeat the question: “But has the Marquis no suggestions to make?” the same answer, “No, I have no suggestions to offer,” was returned. When I afterwards asked the only third person who was ever present at any of these interviews whether after my departure some comments had not been made which might assist in deciding upon the best course of action, the reply again was an unqualified negative. And upon surprise being expressed at this, the remark followed: “It is the custom of the Marquis, when he trusts any one, to trust him completely.” And, indeed, the promise to leave me absolutely independent, which had been made in private and which was soon made public, was, throughout, most strictly kept.

The same day, after tiffin, one of the under-secretaries of the Y. M. C. A., in the absence of Mr. Gillett, the Chief Secretary, called upon me for the discussion of plans and topics for the lectures in Korea. It then became evident that the manner of coming would, as had been suspected, prejudice the Koreans against the speaker and his words. Secretary Brockman, indeed, agreed with me in thinking that a large measure of frankness was desirable. But the Korean officers and members of the Association were timid. It appeared that the Korean Daily News had already reminded its readers, with a sinister warning, that Professor Ladd did not come from America, but from Tokyo, to Korea. The effect of this, with all it implied, will soon appear. Any more definite decision as to ways of procedure was, therefore, deferred until further consultation could be had with those chiefly interested in the affairs of the Association and the moral and religious welfare of the Korean people.

The next morning a committee of three, representing the Association and the two principal Missions doing work in Seoul, called, and two hours of friendly discussion followed over the wisest method of solving this problem: How to employ the American guest of the Japanese Resident-General as a teacher of education, morals, and religion, under existing conditions, to Korean audiences. A complex problem truly! From the first, the lecturer himself insisted upon a continuance of the open and frank policy of approach; any attempt at concealment of his relations to Marquis Ito and of his confidence in the Marquis’ plans for helping Korea would only result in an increase of prejudice, suspicion, and in other invitations to failure. It was during the course of this discussion that one of the missionary members of the committee frankly declared his continued unwillingness, previously expressed, to have anything to do with a plan for “smoothing the way” for the Japanese. In case this was Professor Ladd’s purpose, “let him go ahead and smooth the way, if he could; for his own part he wished to be counted out.” The conference, however, ended in the harmonious agreement that three lectures should be given within the next week, under the auspices of the Young Men’s Association. These were to have dates as follows; for the next Saturday evening, upon the subject, “Education and the Social Welfare”; for Sunday afternoon, upon the subject, “Religion and Social Reform”; and for Monday evening, upon “Education as Related to the Stability and Progress of the Nation.” It was originally intended that the address of Sunday should be given in “Independence Hall,” the largest public room in Seoul, which, however, stands outside of the city walls near “Independence Arch”—a structure erected to commemorate the formal renunciation of the suzerainty of China. The other lectures were to be given in the Association Hall, a temporary building of bare boards, situated in a more central location. Application, however, for the use of Independence Hall was met by the information that it was already engaged for next Sunday. It was then suspected that this was only an indirect and insincere method of refusal; I am not even now sure as to whether or not the suspicion was correct.

On the next day a cordial invitation came from the missionaries of both missions in Pyeng-yang to visit them and speak there as many times as I might be able. The narrative of this interesting visit is to be told elsewhere. But the difference between the attitude of the Koreans toward me in places outside of the capital, where the corruption, fears, and prejudices of the Yang-bans (or ruling class) are less dominant—although some of these places have really suffered more from the Japanese than has Seoul—shows in what motives and interests the anti-Japanese feeling is chiefly seated. It is in Seoul, especially, that many of the missionaries seem not to have kept themselves altogether free from the same unworthy Court influences.

It was on Saturday, March 30, at 3.30 P.M., according to a notice sent the day before, that I was received in audience by the Korean Emperor. Under the escort of the Marquis’ secretary, Mr. Kurachi, and a Korean aide-de-camp, I went in a jinrikisha to the small gate of the palace which is very near to Miss Sontag’s house, and dismounting there, passed through rather irregular and intermittent lines of palace guards to the building where the audience was to take place. The rooms used for such functions, while the new palace is still in process of erection, are far enough from anything approaching royal magnificence. The aspect and furnishings of the entrance hall would scarcely rival a third-class hotel in Europe or the United States. The same thing is true of the waiting-room and of the audience-chamber itself. On arrival I was shown into the former apartment, where were already gathered some of the prominent Korean officials, including the Prime Minister, the Master of Ceremonies, and several officers of high rank in the Korean army. The entrance of Marquis Ito with his suite soon after filled the small room with men whose gorgeous apparel contrasted strongly with the cheap woodwork, which was painted light-pink and trimmed in light-green; and with its tawdry European furnishings. Almost immediately the little Prince, son of Lady Om, entered, and with an amusing air of boyish dignity, made more effective by the mannish costume of topknot and crinoline hat with which he had recently been invested, came straight up to me and gravely held out his hand. The young Prince has bright eyes, an intelligent but almost completely full-moon-shaped face, and a protruding abdomen suggestive of over-indulgence in sweets and other fattening foods. At the mature age of eleven years he had just secured the coveted honor of the man’s investiture, as described above. And seven maidens of suitable rank and age had already been selected, one of whom would subsequently sustain the ordeal of being chosen as his consort and future wife. After the hand-shaking and an interchange of courteous salutations, the boy disappeared. While waiting, I was being introduced to one official, Korean or Japanese, after another; but so often as I rose for this purpose, I was politely requested by the Korean aide-de-camp to be seated again.

The Resident-General and some of his suite went to the audience-room some minutes before I was summoned to follow. It was my conjecture, from what His Majesty subsequently said, that he was being told something about me and about the work which I was to attempt in Korea. In a still later interview with Marquis Ito I learned the truth of this conjecture. The Emperor had been assured that the visitor’s purposes were not political; but the Resident-General, believing that his lectures on matters educational and ethical had been of service in Japan, had invited him to come to Korea to assist in contributing to the same important interests here.

On being invited to do so by the Court interpreter, I followed him to the audience-room. Any expectation of being conducted through stately corridors to a splendid throne-room was speedily disappointed. The audience-room was as near the waiting-room as two small rooms can well be. It was itself so small that there was difficulty in making the requisite three bows before standing face to face with His Majesty, separated only by a round table of the most ordinary sort. At his right side stood, not the Crown Prince, the son of the late Queen, but the son of Lady Om. Before I had come near enough to take it, and indeed before I had made my third bow, the Emperor held out his hand. He is in appearance a quite ordinary man, of the Korean type; and there was nothing worthy of notice about his plain Korean dress. His face wore the pleasant smile with which he is said to greet all foreigners (for, as our hostess says: “Il est très gentil, très aimable”); although its æsthetical effect is somewhat hindered by a bad set of teeth.

His Majesty expressed the hope that I had a pleasant trip and was very comfortable and enjoying myself. A favorable answer, and especially an expression of pleasure at Korea’s beautiful mountain scenery and delightful climate, elicited the remark—he still smiling, while the young Prince looked as solemn as an owl—that, “besides the climate and the mountains, there was nothing else of interest in Korea.” “I cannot quite agree with Your Majesty,” was the response, “for I find the people and the country very interesting and I am sure that my interest will increase the longer I stay.” The Emperor then went on to say that he was glad to learn I had come to instruct his people in right ways; that he hoped they would open their minds to enlightenment and to modern ideas; and that my addresses would contribute to their progress. I answered that I should sincerely endeavor, by speaking on the same subjects on which I had been accustomed to speak in my own country, in England, India, Japan, and elsewhere, to contribute some little help to the same good cause in Korea. Up to this time, no sign of permission had been given to take my dismissal, and, indeed, once when a movement to withdraw had been made, a half-gesture had prevented it; but now His Majesty held out his hand. After taking it, I bowed and backed out safely over the threshold—a manœuvre made the easier by the small size of the room.

On returning to the waiting-room the question was asked whether the Crown Prince was present with his father; and no little surprise seemed to be excited by the fact that Lady Om’s son had on this occasion taken the place on the Emperor’s right hand customarily occupied by the older half-brother. After the entrance again of the Marquis Ito with his suite, and of the Korean officials, to the room for waiting, light refreshments were served; the ceremony was then considered at an end.

My first experience of lecturing to a Korean audience came on the evening of the same day. While waiting in the small, dingy rooms of the Korean building, then used for offices by the Young Men’s Christian Association of Seoul, I was introduced to several prominent Korean Christians. The most interesting of these was the pastor of one of the Korean churches, a member of a high-class family and one of the very few of his countrymen who combines a truly manly native character with a profession of the foreign faith. This man had been chosen by the Crown Prince to assist at the obsequies of his mother, the murdered Queen. The struggles with his conscience, which forbade him either to take part in heathenish rites, or escape with a lie, by feigning illness, or crawl out of the dilemma by resigning the official position he then held, made an interesting story. This man solved his problem of conscience in truly loyal style. And when the Christian pastor told his heathen prince that he could not go, and, as well, the reason why, instead of ordering him punished the latter said: “Why did you not let me know beforehand that you are a Christian, and then I should not have asked you? Go in peace.”

The lecture began late. The hall was crowded with some 600 Koreans, seated on the floor, standing in the open space about the door, and perched in the windows. Besides the native audience, a few missionaries and three or four Japanese friends were the only foreigners present. The arrangements for enforcing order were unusual and interesting. A number of young men, designated by badges, were posted near the door or distributed about the hall. Their office resembled, apparently, that of the tithing-man in the Puritan churches of a century gone by. Boys who became too restless were admonished and sometimes even gently rapped or pulled into place; and those who wished to leave the hall were prevented from doing so unless they could give peremptory reasons for the wish. It was deemed complimentary to the speaker that he did not develop any considerable number of this class of hearers; and, indeed, this particular audience was called attentive. It was, in truth, fairly so; although not after the pattern of the altogether respectful and quiet manners of the Japanese audiences. Indeed, there was always considerable restlessness and undoubted evidence of that kind of applause which imitates what the French call claque, in the Korean audiences at Seoul. On the one hand there was a lack of that intelligent and serious interest in the discussion of questions of education, morals, and religion which one meets everywhere in Japan; while, on the other hand, there was response by clapping of hands to any remarks which touched one’s hearers on the side of sentiment in an appeal to their personal or national experiences of injustice, pride, and weakness mingled with a certain form of ambition. These different characteristics may safely be interpreted as marking essential differences between the present attitudes and prospective developments of the two peoples.

This lecture, as were all the lectures delivered to the Koreans (since they were without exception given under the auspices of either the Y. M. C. A. or of the missionaries), was opened by religious exercises. Dr. Jones introduced the speaker; and Mr. Reynolds, whose reputation for a knowledge of the Korean language has secured him a prominent place in the work of translating the Scriptures, interpreted. The speaker availed himself of the words which the Emperor had that afternoon spoken in commendation of his purpose in visiting the country, to propitiate his first Korean audience. At the end of the two hours the foreigners present expressed themselves as well satisfied with the beginning which had been made.

On the afternoon of the next day, which was Sunday, the audience was equally large, and the attention about equally good; although the drizzle of rain which came on during the hours of meeting made some of the Korean men as nervous about the damage threatening their best-wear crinoline hats as American women are wont to be about their bonnets, under similar circumstances, on an Easter Sunday. As we entered the hall, Dr. Avison was leading the audience in singing. The quality of the song was not high, but it was perhaps equal to that attainable in Japan, outside of the Greek Cathedral at the time of my first visit fifteen years ago. The Koreans are probably more fond of music, and more apt at learning, than are the Japanese. Already, under the training of their German teacher, Professor Eckert, a Korean band is giving to Seoul fairly creditable music. This service of song continued for about one-half hour and ended with the performance of a quartette by Korean young men, one of whom is Chamberlain to the Crown Prince and a nephew of the Emperor. This Sunday’s audience was almost exclusively Christian.

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?

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.

Meantime, however, other invitations to speak in the capital city of Korea had been received and were waiting for their turn. Soon after our arrival, one of the Japanese pastors called to say that it had been arranged for me, by one of the teachers, to address the patronesses of a school for Korean girls bearing the name, and profiting by the favors, of Lady Om. Although other plans had previously been made, in order to save her reputation with the “leading lady” of Korea, a rebuke was sent to this teacher for engaging her speaker without first consulting him; but the invitation was accepted. [In justice to the Koreans, it should be said that the person guilty of this indiscretion was a Japanese. Indeed, to pledge the speaker, and even to select his time and topic for him, is a sort of morally doubtful enterprise, out of which even the New Japan has not as yet wholly emerged]. The talk at Lady Om’s School was in no respect a success. Although both substance and style were made as simple as possible, the Korean girl who had studied abroad and was, therefore, thought competent to interpret, completely failed in this office. And when the Japanese pastor, who had mediated the invitation, followed with an address in his native language which was to convey the substance of the same thought to the Japanese teachers and patronesses of the school, he delivered so prolonged and brilliant an oration that the speaker whose few simple words served as a text for it all, was obliged to commit a breach of etiquette by leaving before the customary sequence of cakes.

In addressing Japanese audiences in Seoul, as elsewhere in Korea and all over Japan, I felt entirely at home. It was characteristic of them in this foreign land, as it was in the home country at the same time, that they were, above all, desirous to hear the subjects discussed about which I most desired to speak. The day when the nation had expected a full salvation from “science” and military prowess, without morals, has happily gone by. Its leaders, whether in educational circles or in the army and navy, in civil service, and largely, too, in business, are becoming convinced that the “spirit” of Japan must be revived, retained, made more comprehensive, purified, elevated; if the triumphs of war are to be followed by the wished-for successes in the ensuing peace. Thus in Korea, as everywhere from Nagasaki to Sapporo, in primary schools, commercial schools, and in the university, I found the interest of the Japanese in ethical subjects supreme.

When, then, an invitation was received to be present at a banquet given by the “Economics Club,” of which Mr. Ichihara (manager of the Dai-Ichi Ginko or branches of the First Bank of Japan in Seoul) is president, and to speak there, I was glad of the opportunity—not only to meet friends, but also to express certain cherished thoughts on the relations of ethics and economics. The Marquis Ito was present at this meeting of the club for the first time. In a lengthy address, spoken with his usual careful “picking of words,” the Marquis emphasized the need that the Japanese should set before the Koreans an example of honesty and fairness in their economic relations. He dwelt upon the thought that the one hundred and seventy who were present, and who represented the principal Japanese business interests in Korea, should show how the Japanese national policy is based upon the principle of unselfishness; and how Japan has declared for, and means to stand for, “the open door.” In welcoming me he repeated, on this public occasion, what he had said in the privacy of the interview at Kyoto, with the following words: “Taking advantage of his visit to Japan, I have invited Professor Ladd, whom I have the honor and the pleasure of considering as a friend of several years standing, to come over here and favor me with his frank and independent views on the situation. What I want is independent views. I trust he knows this very well. I trust his observations will be of great help to me.”

In replying to the address of His Excellency, after apologizing to President Ichihara for criticising the school of economics in which he had been trained (Mr. Ichihara studied this subject in the United States), for failure to emphasize the important and unalterable relations which exist between moral principles and economical policy, I expressed my gratification at the triumph of the newer school which builds on history, psychology, and ethics. I then spoke of the importance of regarding moral principles as fundamental in all practical ways, for the most successful handling of the delicate political and economical, as well as social interests, of both Japan and Korea. The observations of both speakers to the same effect were seriously listened to and heartily commended by this influential group of Japanese financiers in Korea. Between these gentlemen and the unscrupulous and mischievous rabble of their countrymen, who poured into Korea at the close of the war with Russia, a grave distinction must constantly be made by those who would understand the situation there.

The Japanese ladies in Seoul have formed themselves into several flourishing societies, the most important of which, perhaps, is the “Ladies’ Patriotic Association.” This Association is not only useful as an organ for benevolent work among the widows and orphans of the Japanese soldiers, and among the soldiers now on service in Korea, but it has already done much to break down the barriers which exclude Korean women of the upper classes from similar offices, as well as those which separate the women of the two nationalities. It is, therefore, admirably adapted to further indirectly the purposes of the Resident-General in maintaining the honor and welfare of Japan by promoting the good of Korea. On Wednesday of the week following the address before the Economics Club, I spoke to some sixty Japanese ladies, and about the same number of gentlemen, under the auspices of this Association. The theme was the importance and value of relations of friendship between the two countries, as an appeal to the patriotism of those who must be relied upon to bring about these relations. A few Korean ladies also were present at this gathering. And when, at a collation which followed in the Japanese Club-House of Seoul, Mrs. Ladd made a short address to the ladies, a response in few words was made in Japanese by Mrs. Megata, the wife of the Financial Adviser to the Korean Government, and a yet longer one, in the same language, by Mrs. Yi Chi-yung, the wife of the then acting Korean Minister for Home Affairs. Such incidents as these may seem trivial, but they are really noteworthy as the beginnings of what may well grow into a satisfactory practical solution of the difficult problem of establishing a Japanese Protectorate over Korea in a way to secure the honor and welfare of both nations.

The remaining two addresses to Japanese audiences in Seoul were not particularly significant as bearing upon the interests I was trying to serve. They were, however, suggestive as to certain changes going on in Korea which are destined to assist in the redemption of the country. These were an address on an educational topic to about sixty teachers who met in the fine, large brick school-building which marks conspicuously the Japanese ideal in this matter; and a talk on the relation of religion to social reform, given in one of the Japanese churches to an audience of a union character, representing the Christian work among their own countrymen by pastors imported from Japan. An address at the annual meeting of the Bible Society, an address at a meeting of the Asiatic Society, and one or two other talks, completed my work of this character, so far as the city of Seoul was concerned.

It will be remembered that the more important work in which the Japanese Resident-General in Korea hoped I might be of some assistance could not be done merely by making public addresses, however well received by the Koreans themselves. It was evident that his plans for uplifting by pacific measures the economical and educational condition of the Korean people were being misunderstood and hindered, not only by those foreigners who had selfish interests to promote, but also by some who ought to co-operate in every unselfish way. These “anti-Japanese” foreigners were of several nationalities (so far as the diplomats and business men were concerned); but the missionaries were, for the most part, my own countrymen. In the complaint of Marquis Ito, there was never at any time the least trace of bitterness, although the fact was obvious that he felt the credit of his nation, as well as of his own administration, to be deeply concerned. But surely, if both Marquis Ito and the missionaries were striving to promote what was best for the cause of the Korean nation and of humanity in the Far East, the disclosure of this fact ought to make more easy the adjustment of the delicate relations involved in the different kinds and methods of their benevolent work. I knew that the Marquis desired this friendly understanding and cordial co-operation. I thought it right that foreign missionaries should be not less moved than was the Resident-General by the same desire. Union and sympathy, rather than opposition or indifference, ought to prevail between the industrial and educational interests and the more definitively moral and religious.

The larger aspects of the missionary problem in Korea will be briefly treated in another connection. At present it is enough to describe the conclusions on this subject at which I was forced to arrive, and to tell something of my personal experiences. There had, doubtless, been much provocation to form a poor opinion of the character and intentions of the Japanese populace which had crowded into the cities of Seoul and Pyeng-yang during and after the war with Russia. They had cheated and maltreated the Koreans and had brought suspicion and, in some instances, disgrace upon the fair fame of Japan. None of the other foreigners were readier to make accusation of this than were the reputable Japanese to confess and deplore the same thing. But all the robbery and oppression by these unfriendly foreigners was as nothing compared with what the Koreans had suffered from their own countrymen through hundreds of years. Moreover, at this very time, almost without exception, a Korean was to be found back of, or associated with, a Japanese in each scheme for swindling and in each act of injustice or oppression.

On the other hand, the conduct of some of the missionaries had not been altogether judicious or even fair and just. As a body they seemed inclined to be over-credulous and easy to deceive by the falsehoods and exaggerations of their own converts. Not unnaturally, but it would seem unwisely, they had been somewhat too extravagant in praise of the negative virtues of the Koreans, and somewhat too sparing in demanding the more manly moral qualities of sincerity, courage, veracity, and sturdy loyalty to justice and to truth. And—to quote expressions heard from the lips of some of the ladies—there had been too much talk with foreigners and before the natives, about the “dear Koreans”; and “We do not love the Japanese.” That certain letters home—in part private and not designed for publication by the writer, and in part written by missionaries themselves for the press, or by chance visitors or newspaper correspondents to make public stories told to them by the missionaries—had created strong impressions unfavorable to the success of the Japanese Protectorate, was not a matter of merely private information. Moreover, the connection, both implicit and obvious, between these workers in the moral and religious interests of Korea and the enterprises of Mr. Homer B. Hulbert and his colleagues in the alleged political interests of the Korean Court, could not fail to be interpreted by both foreigners and Koreans as hostile to the policy of the Japanese Government. Even as late as August, 1907, an open letter—than which anything more insulting or abusive of the Japanese nation has seldom been published—was written by a Church of England missionary.

Dr. Jones and I had talked over the situation and the policy of the missionary body, as touching the real and lasting advance of morals and religion in Korea, many times before the hour when the point of turning was reached. I had found him always frank, fair, and sympathetic with the difficult and complicated interests of both peoples. He had assured me that, personally, Marquis Ito was steadily gaining in the confidence of all the foreigners, including the missionaries, and even of the Koreans themselves. But the prejudice and bitterness of feeling toward the Japanese generally remained unchanged; and every one seemed to be doubting whether the policy of the Resident-General could win its way. I had steadily maintained the position that, whatever might have been true in the past, the welfare of Korea and the success of missions there, depended upon a positive and hearty co-operation of all the factors common to both forms of good influence. I had previously told Marquis Ito that, in my judgment, the Christian movement now in progress would be the most important help toward the success of his policy in uplifting the Korean people. His Excellency, I had said to Dr. Jones, had held out the hand to the missionaries; for them, through fear of losing influence among the Koreans, or especially at the Korean Court, to refuse to take this hand, seemed to me not only unwise but in a measure un-Christian. Without the success of the powerful influence wielded by the Resident-General for the economical and educational improvement of Korea—for developing its industries, founding schools and hospitals, making the conditions of life more comfortable and sanitary, purging the corrupt court, and securing law, order, and the administration of justice in the country magistracies—preaching, Bible-teaching, and colporteurage, must remain forever relatively unavailing. Moreover, I was becoming convinced that a large proportion of the present interest of the Koreans in the missionary movement had, either in pure or mixed form, political motives behind it.

It was on Thursday, May 2d, that the Korean Daily News—the paper whose most obvious purpose seemed to be, in its English edition, to foster prejudice against the Japanese and to obstruct the policy of the Resident-General, and in its native edition to mislead the Koreans and excite them to sedition—published the following “telegrams about Korea from American papers” as likely to “prove of local interest” (sic). [It should be remembered that this date was only some ten days after the assassination of the Minister of the Household Department, Mr. Pak Yong-wha, and somewhat more than a month after the attempted assassination of the Minister of War.] “American missionaries writing from Korea recently tell of a most intolerable state of affairs in that country where the Japanese have been acting in such a high-handed manner as to cause even the humble native to revolt. The Emperor is held a prisoner and appears to be in daily terror of his life. Nor have the aggressions of the Japanese been confined to the natives of Korea. Americans, engaged chiefly in mining enterprises, had it plainly demonstrated that Korea is no place for them and that they would better move out. A representative of these mining interests” (the true story of this ‘mining representative’ will be told elsewhere) “is now either at or on his way to Washington to see if they cannot obtain redress from their government. This latest development in the Korean situation, the boycott, will doubtless precipitate matters in Korea.”

These “telegrams,” published May 2d in Seoul, bore date of San Francisco, April 1st. It so happened that Dr. Jones came to my office on the early morning of the date of this publication. Finding that he had not read the article in the Korean Daily News, I called his attention to it; and I then spoke more plainly about the urgent necessity of a change of attitude on the part of the missionaries than I had ever spoken before. It was apparent, I urged, that the negative, non-committal position would no longer suffice. Instead of its being justifiable under the plea of not engaging in politics, the very reverse was true. The missionaries in Korea, either unwittingly or half-willingly, were being used, both in Korea and in the United States, to foster anti-Japanese feeling as supported by exaggerations, falsehoods, and only half-truths. They were thus, I feared, helping to encourage the very worst and most dangerous elements in both countries. There was real danger that, if this course was persisted in, the peaceful policy of Marquis Ito, with its patient and generous effort to promote the development of the Korean people, might be discouraged. And if the mailed fist were invited, or seemed necessary, to maintain the reasonable and unalterable intention of Japan never again to leave Korea to be a prey to foreign intrigues against herself and to the degradation of its own corrupt government, the cause of Christian missions in Korea surely would not fare better than it easily could by establishing friendly relations of co-operation with the existing Protectorate. The events of October, 1895, and of the following years, ought not to be so easily forgotten.

Two days later the following, under the heading of “Marquis Ito and Christian Missionaries,” appeared in the Seoul Press. “His Excellency Marquis Ito received Dr. George Heber Jones and Dr. W. B. Scranton on Thursday afternoon. The work of the churches in Korea was discussed and the visitors assured His Excellency that the reports, reproduced from American papers, claiming that the Christian missionaries were antagonistic to the Resident-General and his policy in Korea, neither represented their personal sentiments nor those of their colleagues; that His Excellency might feel assured of their sincere sympathy and co-operation in all measures looking toward the betterment of the Korean people. The missionaries make it a rule to stand aloof from political matters, finding in the moral and spiritual uplift of the Korean people full scope for activity.”

“His Excellency assured the visitors that he gave no credence to the reports thus circulated, and that he entertained no suspicion nor doubt of the missionaries in Korea. He fully recognized the value of the work they were doing for the moral and spiritual betterment of the Koreans, and wished them every success.”

This public announcement of the establishment of friendly relations between the Marquis Ito and an influential portion of the missionary body in Korea was drawn up in semi-official fashion. The gentlemen who undertook the duty of making the advances toward the Resident-General were convicted—as is every one who comes into anything approaching familiar relations with him—of the complete sincerity of his purpose toward the people of Korea, and of his frank and fair-minded policy toward all foreign interests. The Marquis himself, after the interview, requested that the substance of it might be made known to the public. Each party prepared with care the few words which declared this unselfish alliance between the representative of His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Japan, in Korea and these representative teachers of religion, in the common effort to promote the industrial, educational, moral, and religious welfare of a hitherto unhappy nation. Such an alliance—as we may reasonably hope—will contribute to the reputation for wisdom and unselfishness of both parties to it. At any rate, as soon appeared, the immediate results were in the direction of an enlarged future good.