Our Mission to Japan--Spies--One Korean Summer--The Queen’s
Funeral--The Procession--The Burial by Starlight--The
Independents--The Pusaings--The Independents Crushed.
In the following spring Mr. Underwood was asked to go to Japan, with
instructions to assist his highness, the second prince, to leave for
America.
It was thought best that he should there, under Christian tutors,
prepare for college, or a military training, and my husband, realizing
of what immense importance this plan well carried out might be to Korea
in the future, gladly consented to accept the mission. All arrangements
were made by the government in Seoul, and Mr. Underwood was instructed
exactly as to the wishes of his majesty. To our combined amusement
and indignation, we soon discovered we were followed everywhere by
spies from the day we left home. Mr. Underwood’s letters to gentlemen
in Tokyo, although mailed with care and secrecy, were read by others
before they reached the hands of those to whom they were addressed. We
were shadowed everywhere, and even had the creepy pleasure of knowing
that a detective slept on the landing just below our room.
Thus for the second time in our lives were we honored by being made
the special objects of espial, connected in the respectable mind with
criminal courts, jails and all sorts of ill odors and combinations of
the unutterable. However, as we had nothing on our consciences, I
believe we rather enjoyed our detectives, aside from a slight indignant
sense of insult. We certainly took a mischievous pleasure in the hunt.
There were undoubtedly those who considered it to their interest to
keep the prince in Japan, but when the king’s commands were fully
understood, no further difficulty was made, and the long-desired end
was gained, as far as a departure for America was concerned, but as
through influence beyond our control, and without our knowledge till
later, a Romanist interpreter was sent with him, the plans and hopes
for his royal highness in America were destined to disappointment.
In the following summer sickness entered our home, a debilitating fever
which would not yield to treatment kept my husband week after week
confined to his bed. His strength of course steadily failed, he became
extremely emaciated and unable to retain nourishment in any form. We
were at the river Han, in a house on a bluff, where we usually spend
the hot and rainy season; but it was several miles distant from the
city, advisers and remedies. It was lonely work, not knowing what turn
the disease might take, with friends and helpers so far away.
At length, one night my trials seemed to reach a climax. The rain
poured down, more like a foe with iron blows besieging a fort than
water from the clouds. The wind blew with almost hurricane fury and the
lightning was constantly accompanied by terrific claps of thunder. My
husband was too ill to notice and in a heavy stupor. Soon, however, the
poor thatched roof began leaking like a sieve, while water flowed in
around the window and door casements.
The invalid lay in a heavy bed, extremely difficult at any time to
move, still more so with his weight and the necessity of moving it as
gently as possible. Our cousin, a lady of no great size or strength,
and I managed by exerting all our combined force to shove the lumbering
piece of furniture to a place where water did not drip on it and the
invalid; and then ran to find pieces of sacking, bath towels, sheets,
waterproofs, etc., to soak up the flood that was constantly pouring in
everywhere and dripping through from the second floor to the first.
The kitchen was almost emptied of utensils, which were placed under the
waterfalls all over the house. While every now and then my husband’s
bed must be pushed or dragged to a new place. The frail house rocked
as if it must surely fall before the fury of the storm. It was one of
those occasions which probably every one experiences, once or twice
in a lifetime, when inanimate nature seems to join with untoward
circumstance, and even God himself seems to have hidden his face, and
all the seen and unseen powers of the universe to have combined against
body and soul. But he who has drunk the very dregs of every bitterness
we ever taste never forsakes us no matter how dark things look, and I
knew on that awful night we were not as desolate as we seemed.
In the morning Dr. Avison came out from the city and kindly invited me
to have Mr. Underwood taken there to his home, which was on a hill with
plenty of breeze, and where I should have advice and medicines close at
hand. So our sick man, placed on a long cane chair with poles attached
to each side, covered with waterproofs, blankets and umbrellas, and
carried by eight coolies, was taken back to Seoul.
Not more than a week later our little one was stricken with the
same fever. Both father and child were desperately sick for another
fortnight, but both were spared, and after weeks of prostration moved
about like pale skeletons, whom nobody found it easy to recognize.
About this time a great deal of uneasiness was beginning to be felt
among certain classes over the king’s long stay in a foreign legation,
especially by all pro-Japanese, and in October, 1896, the king was
formally requested by a Council of State to change his residence. In
the following February, at about the time when Mr. Waeber was leaving
the country and another Russian representative coming to take his
place, the royal household was removed to the Chong Dong palace, near
the English consulate and American legation. Russian officers were in
charge of all Korean troops, and Russian influence predominant.
In October of 1897 the king assumed the title of emperor, and
immediately after the dead queen’s rank was raised to that of empress.
In the following November, her imperial highness’ funeral took place.
It is common among people of high rank to keep the honored remains
embalmed and sealed for months, or even years, until a suitable time
and place for burial has been pronounced by soothsayers, and so two
years after decease, after repeated consultations with these costly and
ghostly advisers, who repeatedly changed their directions, a grave site
was finally decided upon and prepared and a day set.
Two weeks before this, daily sacrifices were offered in Kyeng-won
palace, and on the first and fifteenth of each month since her death
special sacrifices had been offered. All court officials wore heavy
mourning and all citizens wore half mourning.
The grounds selected for the grave site were about three or four miles
from the east gate outside the city, and many acres in extent. Money
flowed like water, and no pains or expense were spared to make the
service and everything connected with it as magnificent and stately as
the queen’s rank and the king’s devotion to her memory required. The
grave was prepared of solid masonry at the summit of a mound fifty
feet high, a costly temple for the temporary shelter of the remains,
where the last rites were to be performed, was erected near its foot,
and a number of other buildings were put up for the accommodation of
the court, the foreign legations and other invited guests, for the
funeral was to be held at night. Refreshments and entertainment was
provided for Koreans and foreigners, officials, friends, soldiers and
servants to the number of several thousands.
A courteous invitation was sent from the Foreign Office to the
legations, inviting the private residents (foreigners) of Seoul to
share this hospitality. The casket in a catafalque was carried from
the palace at eight o’clock on the morning of the 21st of November,
attended by five thousand soldiers, four thousand lantern bearers,
six hundred and fifty police, and civil and military dignitaries of
innumerable grades. The scene was one of extreme and varied interest.
Thousands of people crowded the streets, arches were erected over
the road at intervals. There were numberless scrolls recounting the
queen’s virtues, magnificent silk banners, beautiful small chairs,
wooden horses (for use in the spirit world), which, with all the varied
accoutrements of ancient and modern arms, and the immense variety in
the dress and livery of court and other officials, retainers, menials,
chair coolies and mapoos, made a scene quite beyond description.
The emperor and crown prince did not follow the bier until one o’clock
in the afternoon. His majesty had sent us a special invitation to be
present and go in the procession, but we preferred to go quietly later,
as humble private mourners for a loved and deeply lamented friend, in a
spirit which had nothing in common with the brilliant procession.
When we arrived at nearly eight o’clock in the evening, we found the
extensive grounds lighted by red and yellow (the royal and imperial
colors) native lanterns, not two feet apart, in double rows, along a
winding and circling road for a distance of three miles. Brilliant
banners streamed forth on the air, and here and there all over the
field were brightly blazing fires of fagots, where groups of soldiers
stood warming themselves, for it was bitterly cold. It was a starlit
night of crystal, sparkling clearness.
There is much that is fitting in this custom of holding funerals in
these calm and holy hours of night, when things of time and sense
dwindle and look insignificant, when the world’s bustle is all
hushed, when the unsympathetic glare of happy day is veiled, and
only the soothing balm of the quiet and darkness in harmony with the
sorrow-stricken heart is to be felt. In that hour the divine presence
seems to be most imminent, or more fully realized, and eternity and the
spirit world close around us.
After six sets of prayers and sacrifices, and a final ceremony of
farewell, the remains were to be interred. At three o’clock A.M.
everything was in readiness. A beautiful yellow silk imperial
carrying-chair, for the use of the royal spirit, was first taken up the
hill in great state, by the appointed bearers. Then followed another of
green silk, and lastly the royal casket on its bier. Long ropes were
attached to the latter, held by men standing as closely as possible to
each other, along the whole length, in order to insure the greatest
steadiness. In addition, of course, were the regular bearers, while one
stood on the front of the bier directing and guiding all. Everything
was done with beautiful precision, there was not a misstep nor a jar.
It is said that on such occasions a bowl filled to the brim with water
is placed on the bier, and if a drop overflows severe punishment and
disgrace falls upon the carriers.
A solemn and stately procession of soldiers and retainers, bearing
banners and lanterns of alternate red and yellow, accompanied and
followed the casket, marching in double file on either side and in
close ranks, all uttering in unison a low and measured wailing as they
advanced. Thus all that remained of our brilliant queen was carried to
its rest.
Nothing could be more impressive, solemn and beautiful than this
procession, circling up the hill, beneath the clear faithful watch of
the stars and the fathomless depths of limitless space, in that dark
hour just before day. After the bier followed the king and prince, who
personally superintended the lowering of the precious remains into the
tomb, even entering the crypt to see that the casket was well rolled
back under the great block of granite which covered it.
Sacrifices and prayers were again offered, the gigantic wooden horses
were burned, and the mourners retired. An audience given to all the
diplomats and invited guests, for the expression of farewells and
condolences, ended the ceremonies at about eight o’clock in the morning.
For some time before and after the removal of the king to his own
palace in Chong Dong, a growing feeling of anxiety and distrust
was felt over the preponderance of Russian influence, which found
expression in the formal request made to the king to leave the legation.
While his majesty was still residing there, and before the uneasiness
with regard to Russia had arisen, the “Independent Club” had been
organized by Mr. So Jay Peel, with the consent of the king, to
emphasize Korea’s independence of China. The old columns, where tribute
collectors from that nation were received, were pulled down and a
new Independence Arch erected, as well as a large building for the
official business of the club, called Independence Hall. The crown
prince contributed a thousand dollars for this purpose. The club was
immensely popular with all classes and many of the nobility as well
as the commoners were members. But the real object of the club was
to keep Korea independent of _all_ foreign powers in general, and of
Russia and Japan, as well as China, in particular; to protest against,
and prevent, if possible, the usurpation of office and influence by
foreigners, to stand for the rights of the people, the autonomy of the
nation, its gospel being in a word, “Korea for the Koreans.”
So that now, when the menace seemed to shift its quarters from the west
to the north, the Independence Club began to make itself heard against
Russia.
A word with regard to one or two of its leaders may be of interest.
Mr. So Jay Peel had previously belonged to the progressive party, and
had been obliged to flee to Japan, where after a short residence he
went to America. He was of very high rank and a wealthy family, but
his property having been confiscated he worked his own way, graduating
from a first-class college with highest honors. Then taking a civil
service examination, he had become an American citizen. He obtained a
government position, which gave him light work with sufficient salary
to enable him to take a course in medicine, after which he received a
very fine government medical appointment, on a competitive examination.
But his heart turned to his country, and after the Japanese war and
the establishment of Japanese prestige, he returned to Korea, where
he became adviser to the king, and soon after started a newspaper
called the “Independent,” which was printed half in English and half
in the native character. Mr. So proved himself a gifted, brilliant and
eloquent man, full of enthusiastic devotion to the emancipation and
welfare of his country, perhaps too impatient and precipitate in trying
to hasten the accomplishment of these great ends, a fault common
with young and ardent patriots. Mr. So was the first president of the
club, and was succeeded by Mr. Yun Chee Ho, a son of General Yun, who
had led the attack on the palace for the rescue of the king. Like Mr.
So, he had been for some years away from Korea, having been educated
partly in China in an American Methodist Mission school, and partly
under the same auspices in America. Both he and Mr. So are members of
American Protestant churches. Mr. Yun, who, however, still retains his
Korean citizenship, is also both a fine writer and speaker, and an
enthusiastic patriot and progressionist. He afterwards succeeded Mr.
So in the editorship of the “Independent.” Their following consisted
quite largely of impulsive, eager young men, many of them Christians,
very many of them students, and probably included the majority of the
brilliant, energetic, and sincerely patriotic young men of the capital.
As has been said, after Mr. Waeber’s removal and the king’s departure
from the Russian legation, and a new Russian minister had arrived,
Korea became more than ever subject to Russian influence. Russians
swarmed in the palace, the army and the treasury were completely in
their hands, and their absolute supremacy seemed only a question of a
few brief weeks or months.
At this time, February, 1898, the Independence Club offered a
petition to the king asking the removal of all Russians from the army
and government offices. The Russian minister requested the king to
state his wish in this matter, and soon after, being informed in the
affirmative, the Russians were all withdrawn for the time. April 12,
1898, coincident with this, Port Arthur was ceded to the Russians by
Japan, a fact which it was thought by many had much to do with the
retirement from Korea. It is most improbable that the action of Russia
was in this case out of consideration for the preferences of Koreans.
The Independence Club now grew more and more popular and held frequent
loud and clamorous meetings, at which public affairs were discussed
with great freedom, the wrong doings of high officials severely
censured and held up to public scorn, and unpopular laws sharply
criticised and bitterly inveighed against. They were full of hope and
patriotism, their aim and expectation seeming to be to have all wrongs
righted, all abuses done away with, and Korea remade in a day a free
government and people.
The Independence Club held large mass meetings. The shops were closed,
the whole population was stirred, and even women held meetings,
incredible as it may seem. As a result of which a written petition was
sent to the government, asking for seven reforms, abolishing torture
and other objectionable customs, and granting more liberties.
The cabinet approved the request, the king added six more new rules for
reform, and Yun Chee Ho was made vice-president of the Privy Council.
At once another general meeting of the public was held, and a committee
appointed by them printed tens of thousands of copies of the new laws,
and distributed them everywhere. Among the thirteen new rules, it was
suggested and consented to that there should be established a sort of
popular congress, a law-making body, with powers advisory (certainly
very limited), composed of one hundred people, fifty of whom were to be
elected by the popular vote, and fifty to be appointed by the king. But
now the government began to take the alarm and to realize that they had
opened the sluice gates of a flood which threatened to overwhelm them.
The night before the first election to this body was to have taken
place at Independence Hall, seventeen leading members of the club were
arrested. It was the intention of the minister of law to put these
people to death, but the populace rose _en masse_, crowded and excited
meetings were held everywhere, and so much feeling shown, that the
decision was changed, and they were sentenced to banishment instead.
But the populace continued to rage. Large masses of people, who, while
they did not arm themselves or resort to violence, were angry and
threatening, gathered in front of the government offices in all public
places, demanding the release of the seventeen or that they themselves
should be arrested. At length, after five days’ of threatening
demonstrations and angry mobs, the seventeen were released. Now,
indeed, the Independents felt they had gained a victory, the government
had been defeated, and the people henceforth could accomplish anything.
The demand for the fulfilment of the king’s still unfulfilled promises
of thirteen reforms was again renewed. On this the officials in person
presented themselves before the crowds, commanding them to disperse and
promising everything that was asked if they would do so, as a result of
which the people quietly dispersed.
After long and patient waiting, without result, no promises kept or
reforms instituted, and on the contrary, the bad officials who had
been put out of office again reinstated, the people assembled again
one month later at Chong No (the great thoroughfare) to renew their
demands. The police were then called up by their chief and told to go
to Chong No, and regardless of consequences draw their swords and put
to death all of the unarmed multitude who would not disperse. Almost to
a man, the police began throwing off their official badges, saying they
were one with the people, and absolutely refusing to obey such orders.
The soldiers were then called out, large bodies of troops stationed in
the main thoroughfares, and the crowds dispersed at the point of the
bayonet.
The Independents then asserted it must be bad officials, and not
the king, who were thus oppressing them, and that their petitions
could never have reached his majesty. They, therefore, according to
long-established custom with petitions for royal favors, all convened
in front of the palace. Thousands of men sat there quietly, night and
day, for fourteen days waiting to be heard.
It was a thrilling and impressive sight. There was nothing laughable
about those rows of silent, patient, determined citizens. Many had
their food brought to them, some had little booths or tents where they
prepared meals or slept, while others watched and waited, a few went
away to take food, only to return as speedily as possible. The people
had come to the palace to stay, until an answer could be had from the
king.
After the Independents had been camped for some days thus in front of
the palace, the “_Pusaings_,” or “Peddlers Guild,” gathered and camped
in another part of the city, with the avowed intention of attacking
them.
The “_Pusaings_” are, as their name indicates, a guild of peddlers,
bound together as a secret society for mutual benefit and protection.
They have connections and branches all over the country, and are sworn
to render each other assistance whenever needed. Like the Masons, they
have secret passwords and signs, by which they make themselves known to
each other, and any member of this great guild meeting another, even
for the first time, is bound to help him to the full extent of his
ability. In this way they soon become extremely powerful, and feared
by high and low, rich and poor. They could assemble a formidable army
at short notice, and their reputation as a ruffianly body of men has
long been established. During the reign of the Tai Won Kun, that crafty
and astute old politician decided to make friends of this dangerous
guild, rather than antagonize them, and accordingly granted them a
number of special privileges, one of which was the right to collect
taxes of certain kinds of merchandise, in return for which they were to
be regularly organized by the government and to place themselves under
the control of governors of provinces and other officials, holding
themselves ready for service at any time. They wear a peculiar straw
hat and a somewhat different dress from other Koreans, so that they are
easily recognized where ever seen.
On the appearance of this large body of “_Pusaings_” the king sent
word to the people, in order to calm their suspicions, that they need
have no fear of the Peddlers, as the police should be ordered to keep
them back, and a cordon of police was therefore drawn around the
petitioners. At length, however, the “_Pusaings_” made an attack one
day at an early hour in the morning, when some of the Independents,
who had retired during the night or had gone to their breakfast, were
away, and the number considerably reduced. The police were immediately
withdrawn, and the whole assemblage of Independents were driven away,
and many of them seriously injured. When they attempted to return the
way was barricaded by soldiers, and their enemies, the “_Pusaings_”
were being feasted with food sent out from the palace. The populace
then assembled in large numbers, with the determination to drive away
the Peddlers, which they did, wounding and killing a few. Shortly
after, however, a second battle was fought, in which the people were
forced to retreat and one of the Independents was killed.
The people’s party then again assembled at Chong No, when the king
again sent, promising he would give all they asked if they would
disperse, which they accordingly did once more. Ten days later the king
called them to meet before the palace. On that occasion he came out to
them, standing on a platform built for the purpose, with his officials
around him, and the members of the foreign legations occupying a tent
at one side, and a large number of other foreigners also present. This
was indeed a new thing in the history of so hoary a nation for the
king to come out to confer with the populace on matters of state. The
president of the Independents at that time, Kung Yung Kun, and the
ex-president, Yun Chee Ho, were called up and presented by the king
with a document printed on yellow imperial paper, in which he solemnly
promised the establishment of the thirteen reforms.
The meeting then dispersed, and the people waited another thirty
days, _but nothing came to pass_. With wonderful determination and
persistence, worthy of success like the widow in our Lord’s parable,
who waited long on the unjust judge till by continual coming she
wearied him and obtained her desire, they again assembled at Chong No
and renewed their demands.
Had they only possessed a Hampton, a Cromwell, a Washington, or a
Roland, history might have repeated itself once more. And yet perhaps
it was no more the want of leaders of the right fearless stamp, than
the need of thousands of such determined dauntless, unconquerable souls
as those who stood back of Cromwell and Washington.
They, however, renewed their requests, and insisted they would allow
no government business to be done until the king’s promises were
fulfilled. Soldiers were sent out from time to time and dispersed them,
but they gathered again and again.
At length the government accused them of scheming to establish a
republic and elect a president, and bodies of soldiers and police were
placed all over the city. Wholesale arrests were made, little groups of
even three or four were dispersed by the use of detectives and a very
wide system of espionage, meetings were prevented, the Independents
crushed, and their buildings and property confiscated. Thus, for the
time at least, ended what looked like the beginnings of a revolution,
but the people were not ready and the time not ripe.