The winter and spring of 1907 in Korea were, from the point of view of one interested in this kind of politics, a very lively period, even for a country traditionally accustomed to similar performances. Four attempts at assassination of the Ministry—one of which was successful; daily disclosures of intrigue, plot and counter-plot; revolts against the country magistrates which took the form of refusal to pay taxes, of attacks upon the police, and of highway robbery; plans for plundering the resources of the nation under plausible pretence of schemes for “promoting” the nation’s resources; foolish excitements selfishly fostered by writers for the press who had their own interests to secure; and quite as foolish, but less selfish, endeavors for increase of public welfare, by those benevolently inclined; secret arrangements for the despatch of the unfortunate delegation to the Hague, accompanied by stealings from the impoverished royal treasury to the extent of several hundred thousand yen; and, finally, a change, not only in the personnel of the Ministry but in its very constitution and mode of procedure, which amounted to a bloodless revolution—these and other like events were crowded into this one half-year. Meantime, especially after the return of the Resident-General, the foundations of a new industrial and educational development were being laid; and the arrangements for a systematic administration of law and justice were quietly made ready. An extensive religious revival was in progress—with phenomena corresponding to those familiar to students of such subjects, when the moral power of a higher religion first makes itself felt among a people who are ignorant devil- and spirit-worshippers and are habitually negligent or corrupt in respect of the manliest virtues. All this ferment was both caused, and pervaded in its characteristics, by the Korean national hatred of the race that was destined to subdue and, as we hope, redeem them.

During Marquis Ito’s absence in Japan those opposed to the workings of the recently established Japanese Protectorate over Korea were indeed busily engaged. Their various enterprises took the several forms mentioned above. As to assassination, one unsuccessful attempt had been made some time before the Marquis’ return to Korea. A beautiful box of nickel was sent as a present to acting Prime Minister Pak. No one of the Korean Court, being wise in their generation, ventured to examine its contents or even to raise the lid of the box. Subsequently the Resident-General examined it himself. It proved to be an ingenious contrivance by which the turning of the key and lifting the lid would pull the trigger of a pistol and explode the powder with which the box was filled. Both box and pistol were of American manufacture. The intention of the pretended present, which it was doubtless hoped would be the more eagerly accepted and naïvely dealt with, since it ostensibly came from so “friendly” a country, needs no investigation. The precise source of the murderous gift will perhaps never be accurately known.

The day but one before our arrival in Seoul another unsuccessful attempt at political murder was made—this time in daylight and upon one of the principal thoroughfares. The object of attack was Mr. Kwon, the Minister of War, who was riding in a jinrikisha surrounded by his official guard. The following account is taken from the Seoul Press of Friday, March 29th:

One remark should be added to complete this public account; and one other to enable the observer to read between the lines. There were Korean body-guards and policemen and citizens at hand; but only one Japanese policeman made any attempt to save the Minister’s life or to arrest the assassins. The rumors rife, so inconceivable to “anybody not accustomed” to the “politics” of Seoul, suggested, as usual, that it would be well not to examine too closely into the plot, lest some one might be uncovered who stood “higher up” in the court circles of Korea.

The third attempt at assassination was limited to the discovery and immediate flight of the intruder as he was trying to climb the wall of the enclosure of acting Prime Minister Pak. But the fourth attempt did not terminate so harmlessly. In brief, the history of this political murder was as follows (its date was April 21st):

The unfortunate Minister died from his wound while in the palanquin on the way to the Japanese hospital. Marquis Ito, supposing from the news received by telephone that acting Prime Minister Pak was the victim, started at once for the hospital; but learning, before reaching there, of the real name of the victim, and of his death, he returned to the Residency. The next day H. M. the Emperor caused a chamberlain to pay a visit of condolence to Mr. Pak’s residence; but the city of Seoul and the country of Korea went about its business of intrigue or its work of tilling the fields, as though nothing unusual had happened. The distinction between such events here and in Russia should be borne in mind by one trying to estimate their significance. In Korea there is no immediate tangible interest, affecting life, liberty, or property, for the individual, at stake, to justify violence. Where the real reasons are not thoroughly selfish and corrupt—as indeed in most cases they are—a misguided patriotism, with a large mixture of hypocritical sentimentality, is the motive for the political murders of Korea. The real patriots, if their feeling is intense enough and their courage sufficient, commit suicide; and those of less degree of intensity refuse to accept office under a foreign protectorate!

In general, it had hitherto been only the court officials themselves who much cared as to what persons were selected by the Emperor for the different high offices in Seoul itself. They, too, had been chiefly interested in the more serious question as to who it is of these officials that gets himself assassinated. The peasants and pedlers, who are the travelling merchants in the country districts, care only about the local magistrates and about the bearable amount of their “squeezes.” But under the administration of Marquis Ito assassination of officers whose character and official acts sustain such important relations to the vital interests of both Japan and Korea, cannot now be allowed its traditional impunity. Investigation into the authors and promoters of this plot, therefore, quietly began and was carried as far upward as seemed desirable or necessary. According to the Korean Daily News, the three Koreans—La In-yung, Aw Ki-ho, and Kim In-sik—who on April 1st “went to the Supreme Court in Seoul and gave themselves up, stating that they were the ones who had tried to kill the Minister of War,” “seem to have been actuated by no selfish impulses.” The same paper calls attention to the claim that the plan was to kill all the five Cabinet Ministers “who signed the last treaty with Japan”; and also to the fact that these same men had been to Japan to memorialize the Japanese Emperor with reference to the condition of Korea under the protectorate of the empire whose head was His Majesty himself. This is as far as the paper cared to go at this time in apologizing for the attempt at wholesale murder; but there is no doubt that the attempt itself was not at all displeasing to the court officials of the other party than the one in power or to the people generally.

The truer story is as follows: The searchings of the police after those who attempted the assassination of the Minister of War resulted in picking up a number of them from various quarters. These rascals were cross-questioned and one of them confessed and implicated as back of the plot financially, no less important a personage than the ex-Minister of the Imperial Household, Yi Yong-tai. This is the man who was once prevented by foreign influence, on account of his thoroughly evil reputation, from going to Washington as Minister from Korea. He is known as a past-master in all kinds of craft and corruption, thoroughly untrustworthy; although he had formerly been elevated by the Emperor to the position of Minister of the Interior. Now, it so happened that at the very time of the examination of the assassins, this same gentleman was in an adjoining room where he and those with him could easily hear everything said in answer to the cross-questioning. It is no wonder, then, that Mr. Yi Yong-tai confessed that he himself was indeed one of the band of patriots who had attempted the gallant measure of paying hired assassins to make way with their political rivals—as I have already said, a recognized, legitimate political measure throughout Korean history.

The progress and result of the investigations into this plot of assassination are so significant that this summary account from the Seoul Press is well worthy of reflective consideration:

An analysis of this group of Korean officials and commoners, bent on wholesale political murder of their own countrymen in office, because the latter were avowedly committed to a reform of the economical and judicial condition of Korea, without distinction as to the ill success, or even, in certain particular cases, the unfaithfulness of these “reformers” shows it to have been composed of three classes of persons. There were, first, the high-class officials who, with one exception, were themselves at the time among the party of the “outs”; and who undoubtedly found in this fact the chief crime of the Japanese administration against themselves. There were, second, the misguided patriots who, beginning with an honorable but vain unwillingness to admit the incapacity of their country to manage its own affairs, had sunken to the condition of prejudice and hatred which made them plan to murder their own cabinet ministers, because the latter had, however reluctantly, admitted this incapacity and acted accordingly. And there was, third, that basest of all criminals, the cold-blooded, unprincipled, hired assassin.

The administration of justice in an even-handed manner is peculiarly difficult in Korea; and, indeed, until recently no serious attempt at such a thing has ever been made. In the case of this complicated plot for assassinating the entire Korean Cabinet, it should be borne in mind that several of its chief promoters were very highly connected; they were, indeed, connected well up towards His Imperial Majesty on his throne. Considering this fact, the issue when reached showed a marked improvement already established in judicial affairs. It was indeed rumored—and perhaps correctly—that Mr. Min Hyung-sik, the Vice-Minister of Education, underwent preliminary examination, in the old-fashioned Korean style, by being cruelly beaten. And the anti-Japanese press tried to make it count against Marquis Ito’s measures for judicial reform that he had not prevented the traditional Korean mode of torturing suspects! But this way of examining criminals was still legal in Korea. It was also said that Mr. Yi Yon-yung, chief of the Supreme Court, sent in his resignation, on the ground that, as his younger brother was one of the five ministers who were doomed to death by the assassins, it would not be fair for him to try the case.

At the time of our leaving Seoul the trial of these conspirators was not finished. But on Wednesday, July 3d, at 4 P. M., the Supreme Court returned judgment upon twenty-nine persons who had been tried and convicted of connection with the plot to assassinate those Korean officials who took part in the Japanese-Korean Convention of November, 1905. Three of the hired murderers who, besides this crime, were found to have been previously guilty of armed robbery, were sentenced to death. The others received sentences of exile (a penalty feared more than death by many Korean officials), for periods of from five to ten years. Among those to whom the longest sentence of exile was measured out, were the notable names of Yi Yong-tai, ex-Minister of the Imperial Household; Soh Chang-sik, ex-Minister Resident, and my auditor at the lectures on education, Min Hyung-sik, Vice-Minister of Education.

Even while the examination of this group of assassins was going on, and after the change in the Ministry had been effected, another plot against the lives of the same men was discovered. This conspiracy was, however, less important as respects the rank of the persons involved and less extensive in the number of those participating. Most of the ten Koreans thought to be concerned in it belonged to the Yang-ban class, or the “gentry,” and all were followers of Confucianism. The opinion prevailed that the motive of these conspirators was scarcely to any degree patriotic; but that their principal object was to collect money from the disappointed political groups of the capital. At all events, seven of the criminals were arrested, the plot broken up thoroughly, and another lesson given to Korean officialdom that assassination is no longer to be so sure a path to official promotion and Imperial influence as it has too often been in the past history of the country.

An amusing but significant incident illustrative of Korean official procedure came under my own observation. Prince Tokugawa, who had been staying somewhat more than a week at Miss Sontag’s, before leaving Korea, gave an “at home” to about one hundred and fifty invited guests. Soon after the company had assembled, and while the ladies were in the drawing-room and the gentlemen in the large outer, enclosed verandah, suddenly the electric lights went out and the company were left in total darkness. The gentleman with whom I was conversing at the moment and I looked through the glass doors of the verandah and observed that the electric lights outside were still burning. At this discovery my companion, who had had some experience in the ways of Seoul diplomacy, became somewhat disturbed, and remarked: “Such things sometimes happen by previous arrangement.” Almost immediately after the sudden darkness came on, a servant emerged from the dining-hall with a lighted taper, and crossing to the drawing-room proceeded to light the numerous candelabra. At the heels of the servant followed Prince Eui Wha, pale with fright, on his way from the verandah to the drawing-room, where he slipped behind a barricade of ladies and planted himself against the wall. It should be remembered in explanation of so singular behavior that this Prince, although he is the Emperor’s son by a concubine, is hated by no fewer than three different parties; these are the Min family, who favor the succession of the son of the Queen; the party of Lady Om, who would gladly see her young son come to the throne; and the violently anti-Japanese crowd who believe that Prince Eui Wha is too much under Japanese influences. It had been rumored previously that a letter had threatened him with assassination. However this may be, the present was not the expected occasion; for examination showed that the burning-out of a fuse was the real cause of the sudden darkness: and a servant repaired the connection so that, just as a workman hastily summoned from the electric plant, entered the front door, the lights as suddenly came on again.

The plots for assassination undoubtedly contributed to the causes which had already for some time been at work to make necessary a change in the Ministry. In spite of the enmity which the existing Cabinet had excited on account of its unwilling part in the Convention of November, 1905, it had held together for a remarkably long period of time. Not all its members, however, were equally sincere or efficient in carrying out the reforms to which they had pledged themselves; at least one of its members had been accused of a notable attempt at the old-time manner of corrupt administration of office. The Il Chin-hoi people, or members of a numerous so-called “Independence Society,” had been “heckling the Cabinet Ministers” by accusing them of venality and incapacity. In a memorial forwarded to the Government by its committee, the beginning read: “We herewith write you and enumerate your faults”; the memorial ended with the amusingly frank declaration: “The only thing for you Cabinet Ministers to do is to resign your posts and retire into private life. Your armed body-guards are entirely useless. If you do your duties assiduously and honestly, every one will love you; but if you pursue idle and vicious courses, every man’s hand will be against you.” Moreover, the acting Prime Minister Pak, although of good intentions, had not developed the ability to lead and control his colleagues, and he was probably acting wisely when he insisted on having his resignation accepted. The resignation of their chief involved the resignations of all and the formation of a new Ministry—although not necessarily of a Ministry composed wholly of new members.

On returning to “Maison Sontag” about ten o’clock (Wednesday, May 22d) from dining out we found our hostess rather worn in body and mentally disturbed; she had herself just reached home after some seven hours of continuous service in the Palace. Mademoiselle also appeared anxious about the comfort and health of the Marquis Ito, who had himself been there during a similar long period, and who had eaten and drunk nothing except a sandwich and a glass of claret sent in by her to His Excellency. The resignation of Premier Pak had been tendered on the Monday previous. The next morning but one, the Seoul Press, published the following announcement:

As the same paper subsequently remarked, this change of government, which had taken place with a quite unequalled promptitude and quiet, followed upon a conversation in which the “Resident-General spoke to the Emperor on the general situation in a remarkably frank and outspoken manner.”

The substance of this conversation between Marquis Ito and the Korean Emperor in this memorable interview was probably somewhat as follows: His Majesty was reminded of the Marquis’ regret that a change of Ministry had become necessary; for under existing circumstances it was desirable to avoid as much as possible the friction likely to accompany such a change. But Minister Pak insisted on resigning and the others, of course, must follow his example. Now the history of the country showed, as the Emperor well knew, that changes in the Cabinet were a signal for all manner of confusion in the Government, caused by the intrigue of parties contending for the control. Promptness of action would alone prevent this. His Excellency wished to remain in the palace until the new Ministry was constituted. Under existing circumstances it was most desirable that the new Prime Minister should be a man who could be trusted; and that, in order to secure internal harmony and freedom from intrigue within the Cabinet itself, he should have a choice in the selection of his colleagues. He should also have a policy, should explain it to the others, and thus secure their intelligent and hearty co-operation and support. In His Excellency’s opinion, Mr. Yi Wan-yong, the then acting Minister of Education, was the man, of all others, most suitable for the position of Premier. This advice—accompanied, as it doubtless was, by words of plain but friendly warning as to the consequences of continuing the old-time policy of intrigue, deceit, and submission to the counsels of base-born and unscrupulous fellows, who were always planning to deceive and rob the Emperor in order to profit themselves—was finally followed.

The Ministry of Agriculture, Commerce and Industry, which for practical importance stood next to that of the Prime Minister, and which had been rather unworthily filled by its previous occupant, was for the time being combined with the Prime Minister’s. Soon after, the Minister of Justice and the Minister of Finance of the new Cabinet insisted upon resigning, and Mr. Cho Chung-yung and Mr. Ko Yong-hui were appointed to the vacant positions. At the same time the vacant portfolio which had been temporarily left in the hands of the Prime Minister was given to Mr. Song Pyong-chun. With these changes and this additional appointment a new Cabinet was arranged in the briefest possible time, without popular excitement, and without opportunity for corrupt intrigue.

An analysis of the personnel of the new Ministry shows that it was composed of comparatively young men and of men who had, on the whole, previously sustained a fair reputation. It also was much more obviously a reform Cabinet; its material was both more mouldable and more homogeneous. The Home Minister had been the President of “Song-kyun College” (a Confucian institution); the War Minister, who was speedily made a Major-General, had received a thorough military education in Japan and had been director of the Korean Military Academy. The new Minister of Education had at one time been Vice-Minister in the same department.

Almost immediately the new Cabinet, in accordance with the significant decision to hold a Council every Tuesday at the official residence of the Resident-General, met to shape a more definite public policy. A full report of the speech made to them on this occasion by Marquis Ito, and of the response made by Premier Yi, was published for Korea, Japan, and all the world to read. In this address the Marquis claimed that he had now, since his arrival one year ago, acted in perfect good faith, with the immovable intention to do all in his power to cement friendship between Japan and Korea, and to develop the latter’s resources. The most urgent need for Korea at present was a reformed administration. Reviewing the history of the past thirty years in the Far East, with which his own experiences had made him particularly familiar, he recalled before them his persistent advocacy of peaceful measures as opposed to those of a punitive war. But it was for Korea herself to say whether such measures should prevail as would insure her independence in home affairs and peaceful self-development, or not. If the present Cabinet did not agree with him, let them frankly and bravely say, No! If they concurred in his opinion, let them free themselves of selfish motives and unite in bringing about the common good. To this address of Marquis Ito, Mr. Yi, the Premier, replied in behalf of his colleagues. After thanking the Resident-General for his advice, he promised that the new Ministry would unite under his guidance, and “despite all obstacles and in the face of any dangers that might lie in the way, would endeavor to attain their object—the best good of their country.”

Other measures followed rapidly, all of which tended to constitute a Cabinet which should be a really effective administrative body, relatively free from court intrigue and from the fear of internal treachery. These measures, taken together, secured a new official system, the beginnings of real government for the first time in the history of Korea, as the following quotation will show:

How complete a bloodless revolution was accomplished in this quiet and almost unnoticed way will be made more apparent later on when it can be viewed in its larger historical and political settings. That His Majesty the Korean Emperor did not like the change, needs scarcely to be said. The enlargement of the power of the Government meant the diminishing of the Imperial power to dispose of the offices, the possessions, not only of the Crown but also of individuals and of the nation, and the lives of the subjects, without regard to law, order, justice, or the semblance of equity. There is equally little need to say that the Yang-bans and the corrupt courtiers and local magistrates, as well as the court-eunuchs and sorceresses, were in the opposition. But only by such changes is to be constituted the true “Passing of Korea,” in a manner to commend itself to every genuine patriot and to all foreigners who honestly care for the good of the Koreans and for the welfare of the Far East.

The Emperor at first was reported to have attacks of being “indisposed,” which prevented his seeing the Ministers when they came for consultation, or for the imperial sanction to their acts under the new régime. But, on the whole, his health gradually so improved that he was able to accept the situation with more apparent acquiescence, if not inner complacency. And the fright which soon arose over the serious consequences that were to follow his alleged Commission of Koreans and their “foreign friend” to enter formal protest against Japan at The Hague Peace Conference, at least for the time being made the humiliations suffered from his own subjects at home the easier to be borne.

According to unfailing Korean custom, it was to be expected that the ex-Ministers would become at once opponents of their successors in office and powerful factors in the intrigues designed to destroy the influence of the latter with the Emperor. The success of the new Ministry, especially in the matter of those reforms which made Marquis Ito’s administration so obnoxious to the ruling classes, was therefore in peril from the Ministry that had resigned. But influence of a private and suspicious character with His Majesty had become, under the new régime, less important and less likely to be profitable; and the ex-Ministers were not only to be rendered innocuous, even if any of them might at any time be disposed to do harm, but were also themselves to be committed by motives of personal interest to a more responsible, relatively reformed mode of administering national affairs. The new Korean Government decided to “create” the office of “Councillor in the Privy Council”; the ex-Ministers were themselves promptly appointed to this office. They were given comfortable salaries, and three of them—including the one who had been publicly reported as having put on a coat-of-mail and secreted himself in his own house, through fear of assassination, at the time of his resignation—were sent on a tour of inspection to Japan. Here they were received in audience by His Imperial Majesty the Emperor of Japan, and so well treated that they might reasonably be expected to return to their own country with a spirit of hearty co-operation in measures for reforming the condition of their own country after the Japanese model.

Among the other events of the spring months of 1907 was one which, while in itself considered, was relatively unimportant, was destined to become of no small political influence upon the Japanese policy in Korea and upon the relation of the Emperor and the court circle to that policy. This was the sudden departure, after selling his effects at auction, of Mr. Homer B. Hulbert. It does not belong to the story we have to tell, to speak of the previous history of this gentleman in Korea, or of his views on historical subjects when involving the character of the Japanese, except so far as the statement of the facts and truths of history makes such reference—mostly indirect—indispensable. But on this particular occasion what transpired of Mr. Hulbert’s transactions with the Emperor is so intimately connected with the political events of the period that some special mention of them cannot properly be omitted.

Immediately on my return from Chemulpo, Wednesday, May 8th, I found the excitement of the day was over the following questions: “What was Mr. Hulbert’s motive for leaving Seoul so suddenly? Where is he going? and What is his business?” Now the Korean Daily News, the violently anti-Japanese paper which was currently believed to receive the support of Mr. Hulbert, in the forms of friendship with its editor, writing some of its editorials, and interest in its receiving subsidies, had just published as a despatch from Paris (dated May 3d) the following illuminating statements: “Korea will also participate in The Hague Peace Conference”; but then again: “It is reported that Japan will represent Korea at the Conference.” The conjecture, therefore, was very promptly made by those in the diplomatic service in Seoul that the Emperor had again given another large sum of money to the same hands, with the same hope, as formerly, of procuring foreign assistance or even intervention. This was, however, hard to credit even by those most suspicious; for, from the Japanese point of view, such a transaction would have been on the recipient’s part very like “obtaining money under false pretences,” and on the giver’s part, a breach of the compact with Japan which might seriously impair, or even endanger, the imperial interests. That such a commission was a breach of treaty-obligations will be made perfectly clear when we come to narrate the true history of the compact made in November, 1905.

Inquiry resulted only in finding that Mr. Hulbert’s real plans in going, and even his reasons for going at all, had not been confided to any of his most intimate friends. His Korean associates, outside of the very few higher officials that might be in the secret, held the absurd opinion that he had been bought off from his devotion to them by the Marquis Ito, to whose official residence he had resorted for a conference and an agreement as to terms. To the other foreigners he had assigned the condition of his family affairs as the reason for his removal. To one of his more intimate friends among the missionaries he had claimed that, having heard of a wealthy American who might be induced to give a large sum of money to found an educational institution in Korea, he was going to try to secure the gift. The only points of agreement were that the journey was to be made over the Siberian Railway, and that there was to be a considerable stop in St. Petersburg. In a quite unexpected but entirely authentic way it became known to me within a few hours that Mr. Hulbert had indeed gone from Seoul with a large gift of money from His Majesty and with an important commission to execute. Although the precise amount of the imperial gift continued for some time to be variously estimated and reported, and although its precise uses may never be inquired into—not to say made public; that a Commission appeared at The Hague, and its fate, are now matters of the world’s political history. As such, it will be referred to elsewhere.[3]

It would be a great mistake, however, to suppose that Seoul had no other charms for us as visitors than the opportunity for delivering lectures and for witnessing, from outside and inside points of view, the human puppets which suppose themselves to be defeating the plans of that Supreme Ethical Spirit who shapes the destiny of nations, in partnership with those who partake of the spirit with which He inspires the “men of good-will.” The Court intrigues, and even the assassination of the Ministry, had little disturbing effect upon foreign business or foreign social life in the capital of Korea. With the former it made no difference of practical importance beyond the temporary check, perhaps, to some promoting scheme which depended upon the personality of the Court favorites for its Imperial support. There was no particular reason why society should heed such familiar occurrences. The weather was fine; the luxuriant bloom of the Korean spring and the vivid and changeful coloring of the mountains surrounding Seoul, invited to out-of-doors entertainments; and no foreigner’s life was then in any danger. For, as to the last feature favoring open-air sociability, the foreign visitor or resident need have little fear within the city walls, so long as the mob is not aroused and in control. Aside from one or two articles in the Seoul Press, and the grave rebukes of the Resident-General, I neither heard, nor heard of, any voice raised against the immorality and crime of political intrigue and political assassination. There was at the time no Savonarola or Martin Luther in Korea. But, then, in what part of America, or country of Europe, is such a prophet now to be found? In Korea, as elsewhere, politics and morals seemed only remotely related, even in the minds of the teachers of religion.

The foreign society of Seoul, including, of course, the Japanese, is small, but homogeneous and agreeable. It is, indeed, composed of several nationalities and of varied occupations—from that of the shrewd and hardened diplomat to the unsuspecting but devout missionary. But whatever differences of views and habits, or more important oppositions, lie hidden beneath, when the gathering is social, there is a cordial interchange of courtesies and an appearance of good-will. There can be no doubt that much of this socially-uniting influence has its source in the will of the Japanese Resident-General; and just as little doubt that the Japanese Imperial treasury is somewhat heavily drawn upon for the expenses. But it is worth for Korea all that it costs—and more. Especially true is this, when we consider the effect which is had in this way upon the Korean upper classes themselves. Indeed, it is foreign social amenities and decencies, under the brave and efficient leadership of the lady in whose house we stayed, that have made the Korean court functions half-way tolerable, and that to this hour prevent the housekeeping of the Palace from relapsing into an intolerable condition of filth and disorder. But what the social functions that are now encouraged by the Resident-General are in a measure doing is chiefly valuable by way of bringing the Korean upper classes into apparently—and as, I believe, the event will prove, genuinely—friendly relations with the Japanese. This effect has already showed itself to a considerable extent in the case of the Korean gentlemen. Not only those who have been abroad, and those who are now going abroad (for the most part, to Japan), but even the others are coming to appreciate the value of more cleanly and elegant ways of enjoying one’s self socially than were conceivable by their ancestors. Gluttony, drunkenness, filthy habits and surroundings, seem less natural and attractive by comparison with a few degrees of higher social refinement. The hardest crust to break will doubtless be that which encompasses and crushes the Korean lady. In Japan there has never been anything quite comparable to the still present degrading influences bearing upon the womanhood of the upper classes in Korea. But while we were in Seoul, for the first time so far as known in its history, a Korean lady walked upon the streets, and after making several calls in this fashion, rode home in the electric car! Her companion was a Japanese lady, and the two were selling tickets to a public entertainment given in behalf of a benevolent enterprise. Being present ourselves at this same entertainment, we saw to our surprise quite one hundred Korean women, dressed in their native costume, enter the theatre, and seat themselves among the Japanese of their own sex. If this thing goes on, racial hatred is doomed. For soon it is to be hoped, or feared, according to one’s point of view, that Korean ladies will attend garden parties and, perhaps, finally, frequent afternoon teas and evening receptions, at which foreigners of both sexes are present. And this, I am sure, is a sight never as yet beheld by mortal eyes; at least my eyes saw no sign of its beginning as yet in the now half-opened “Hermit Kingdom.”

A few days after our arrival our host gave us an afternoon reception at the Residency House. It was a beautiful day; and the grounds, which had been decorated as it is difficult for other than the Japanese professionals to do, were beautiful as was the day. The first two hours were spent upon the hill above the Residence, from which there are fine and extensive views of Seoul and its environing mountains. There, in the several well-situated booths and tea-houses, light refreshments were served. There, too, we were introduced to the whole of Seoul “society,” some of whom we were glad to call our “friends,” when we parted from them nearly two months later. The Japanese officials, the foreign Consuls, with their wives and daughters, the Korean officials without their families, the Roman Catholic Archbishop and the Protestant missionaries, and a few of the leading business people, made up that sort of a gathering which is most thoroughly human and most interesting. A collation, with chatting and hand-shaking, in the Marquis’ apartments closed a delightful afternoon.

Of the various garden parties, luncheons, dinners, and receptions, which followed and not only enlivened the otherwise somewhat dull life of lecturing, reading, consulting, and observing, it is not necessary to speak in detail. The visit of Prince Tokugawa and his party to Seoul, which was extended for some ten days, was very properly made the occasion of a series of festivities, at most of which they were the guests of honor; but at the last of which—a reception given in Miss Sontag’s house—Prince Tokugawa was himself the host. The unaffected friendly bearing of these Japanese gentlemen toward the Koreans, with whom they were thus brought in contact, helped to soften the anti-Japanese feeling; and since on one, at least, of these occasions, the reception given by Mr. Megata, not only the foreign diplomats but also a number of the foreign missionaries were invited, it gave to the latter a somewhat unaccustomed opportunity to observe at close hand the enlightening fact that Japan, like all other so-called civilized nations, does not have its true character best represented by its coolies, low-lived adventurers, camp-followers, and land-grabbing pioneers.

I close this brief description of our varied experiences in Seoul with a warning against a very common but, in my judgment, quite fallacious view of the relation in which the capital city stands to the entire country of Korea. It is customary to say that “Seoul is Korea” just as “Paris is France.” But this is even less true in the macrocosm of Seoul than in the macrocosm of Paris. It is indeed true, as Dr. Jones has said, that “as the capital of the Empire its political pre-eminence is undisputed. Intellectually and socially it has ruled Korea with an iron hand for half a millennium.” But it is also true that the real interests and undeveloped material and human resources of the nation are in the country; and that the uneconomical, ignorant, and depressed condition of the people outside of Seoul is the chief concern of all who really care for the welfare of Korea. The local magistrates must be reformed, or the well-nigh hopeless task of reforming the corrupt Court at Seoul would be, if it could be accomplished, of little value to the nation. And if it becomes necessary, in order to effect this reform, and so to bring about the redemption, industrially, educationally, morally and religiously, of the people of the country, then the “iron hand” which rules them from Seoul must be either gloved or broken in pieces. But, in truth, the idol at Seoul which the Koreans worship is an image of clay.