The passing of Korea/Chapter 27
CHAPTER XXVII
THE EMPEROR OF KOREA
They contain certain half-truths distorted out of all proper proportion and exaggerated to the point of caricature. The writer knew nothing about the Emperor from personal acquaintance. Some months ago there appeared in the " Century Magazine " an article by a former Secretary of the American Legation in Seoul which came far nearer the truth, for that gentleman had a personal acquaintance with the Emperor and knew what he was talking about. A comparison of those two estimates of the man will show how wide is the difference between irresponsible gossip and sober fact.
The Emperor of Korea is now fifty-five years old and is a gentleman of average natural ability, which has been greatly influenced by his environment, not always happily. At the age of twelve years he was nominated to the throne by the Queen Dowager, in view of the fact that the former King died without issue. His father became regent until the boy should attain his majority. The regent was a fierce and relentless despot, who began his career by a sanguinary persecution of Roman Catholics. The boy lived in the midst of unspeakable atrocities, and was brought up to believe that the knife, the poison and the torture are the main implements of government. His father married him to a member of the Min family, and when the time came for the young King to assume the duties of his office, he found himself torn between . filial duty toward his imperious father and the softer but no less effective pressure brought to bear on him by the Queen. She and the regent were deadly enemies. Each of them had a will far more unbending than that of the King, and from the year 1872 there was war to the knife between these two individuals, which ended only with the assassination of the Queen in 1895 by the Japanese.
We must remember that in Korea, as in China, the chief ruler is limited in his actual power by the fact that those immediately about him can command all avenues of information and can colour that information to suit their own purposes. The war between the Queen and the regent opened when the latter sent an infernal machine to the father of the Queen, which resulted in the destruction of almost the entire family. If we try to imagine the state of mind of a ruler shut off from full access to genuine information and surrounded with such instruments of death, with murder in the hearts of those most intimately connected with his own life, we shall be able to picture to ourselves the disabilities under which the young King grew up. In 1882 the regent again tried to take the life of the Queen. The soldiers swarmed into the palace, tore in pieces, before the eyes of the King, some of the leading members of the Queen's faction, and missed killing the Queen herself only through a lucky accident. All this time the King himself knew not at what instant the knife might be put to his own throat. Two years later a band of fanatical men determined to force the government to follow the example of Japan. They seized the person of the King and before his eyes slaughtered seven members of his Cabinet and one of his most trusted personal servants. The Japanese, who backed this desperate and sanguinary enterprise, had to retire, and things went on as before; but what sort of training was this for a young King just entering upon his reign? It is only to be wondered at that his nerves survived the strain at all. In 1895 occurred the unspeakable monstrosity of the cold-blooded murder of the Queen at the instigation of the Japanese minister, when the regent, rioting in fierce joy of a borrowed power, saw the fruition of his long desire. All during that terrible time the King lived in momentary dread of assassination. And who can wonder? Did not every circumstance in the case warrant his fear of sudden death. He was surrounded by a Cabinet composed of men thoroughly in the hands of Japan, and was virtually a prisoner. For weeks he refused to eat a mouthful of food except what was sent in a locked box from the house of an American missionary, such was his fear of poison. Finally the strain became too great. He could endure the suspense no longer. After trying in vain to secure asylum in the American legation, he threw himself into the arms of Russia by a secret flight from the palace. For a time he had rest in the Russian legation, where, be it said to the lasting credit of Mr. Waeber, no pressure was brought to bear upon him to give Russia predominant power in the peninsula. Doubtless this was why Mr. Waeber was removed to make room for a more strenuous man. He was too good for Russia. This situation could not continue indefinitely, but the King would not go back to his old palace which had witnessed such a tragedy. He built a smaller one in the vicinity of the foreign legation, where he would be near help in case of trouble.
His nerves had been hopelessly shattered. Originally a man of ordinary ability, the scenes through which he had passed had stamped their impress upon him, and he had come to believe that craft was the only available instrument to use. When Mr. Waeber was superseded by a less scrupulous man, the position of the King was rendered more difficult. It was necessary to play off Russian against Japanese in order to steer clear of the clutches of both. The Emperor had been brought by hard experience to believe that all talk of reform was but an arrow aimed at him personally, and he was intensely suspicious of any curtailment of his own prerogatives. He was and is a man of kindly nature, and he hates suffering and pain in every form, whether for himself or his people. There is no doubt that under the selfish advice of interested ministers he has allowed the extortion of money from the people, but no one who knows him can believe that he has ever wantonly and knowingly inflicted suffering upon his subjects. There have been countless cases in which he has proved the contrary. One little incident will illustrate. Near the Altar to Heaven, where he went to assume the title of Emperor, a foreigner was building a house. The rafters had been put on, but the roof was not covered. A host of Koreans swarmed into the yard and climbed to the roof to look down upon the ceremony in the adjoining compound. The American was extremely uneasy, for this was far outside the limits of ordinary courtesy, and he hastened to force the Koreans down; but the Emperor, noticing the commotion and divining the cause, sent a special messenger in haste to say that the Koreans need not be disturbed. This is only a trivial case, but there are others. Nothing could exceed the solicitude of the Emperor when, last year, the ludicrous attempts at monetary reform had driven the merchants to desperation. He tried to help them by lending several hundred thousand yen to them to tide them over the crisis, and the fact that the Japanese would not allow him to do it cannot detract from the credit that is due him.
Much has been said of his superstitiousness. This is based largely upon the fact that the women of the palace, who share with other Korean women the unhappy legacy of illiteracy, have often called in various kinds of sorceresses and mountebanks for their own delectation. The King has indulged them in this caprice, and it is possible that he may have amused himself now and then in listening to the extravaganzas of these spirit mediums, but that he gave any more heed to them than any other educated Korean gentleman would is incredible. This sort of talk belongs in the category of those racy accounts given by tourists, who move heaven and earth to get an audience with the Emperor, and then come home to criticise the quality of his wines and sneer at his manners.
The Koreans have been called a people of inferior intelligence, but the truth is that in pure diplomacy, finesse, they have outwitted the Japanese at every point during the past quarter of a century. In 1884, in 1894, in 1904 the Koreans outmanoeuvred the Japanese in diplomacy, and it was only by coming in with the sword that the latter carried her point. At the beginning of the last war Korea received from Japan a definite promise to preserve the independence of the Korean government. Japan felt called upon to give this guarantee because she needed something in return, namely, the passivity of the Korean people and their good will during the war. Korea believed the promise, but when the need of keeping her quiet had passed Japan by an act of unparalleled treachery proved that her word was not as good as Russia's; for while Russia's retention of Manchuria was only the postponement of a promised evacuation, the seizure of Korea was an absolute and unblushing refusal to pay, for favours shown, the price that had been definitely agreed upon. There is no sophism that can evade this fact.
Attention must be called to the way the Emperor of Korea has always treated Americans and American interests. Nothing has been too good for us. We have had the best gold-mining concession, the first railroad concession, the leading place in education, the unbounded confidence of both King and people. We built the first electric tramway and lighting plant. We obtained the important concession for supplying the city of Seoul with a modern water system. All these things have been given us almost without the asking. Nowhere in the world has there been a more open field for the investment of American capital. The Korean Emperor and people have always looked to us as the one power that had no political wire to pull, no axe to grind, no purely selfish policy to carry out. But in the face of all this, we have been the first to push her over the brink, to accept the outrage of November 17, 1905, without loud and instant protest. Why did the world objurgate the failure of Russia to keep her promises in Manchuria and condemn her as the international felon and then turn about and allow Japan to stultify herself tenfold worse in Korea without protest?
Those who have been on the spot and watched closely the tragic culmination can see something of how the nature of the Emperor, warped by terrible vicissitudes and held for months at a time in the most heart-breaking suspense, has been dwarfed and shrivelled in the furnace. And yet at this very hour he stands firm in his loyalty to his people. He denounces the so-called treaty of November, 1905, and demands the attention of the powers to Japan's treachery.