That evening Japanese soldiers, with fixed bayonets, entered the courtyard of the palace and stood near the apartment of the Emperor.  Marquis Ito now arrived, accompanied by General Hasegawa, Commander of the Japanese Army in Korea, and a fresh attack was started on the Cabinet Ministers.  The Marquis demanded an audience of the Emperor.  The Emperor refused to grant it, saying that his throat was very bad, and he was in great pain.  The Marquis then made his way into the Emperor’s presence, and personally requested an audience.  The Emperor still refused.  “Please go away and discuss the matter, with the Cabinet Ministers,” he said.

Thereupon Marquis Ito went outside to the Ministers.  “Your Emperor has commanded you to confer with me and settle this matter,” he declared.  A fresh conference was opened.  The presence of the soldiers, the gleaming of the bayonets outside, the harsh words of command that could be heard through the windows of the palace buildings, were not without their effect.  The Ministers had fought for days and they had fought alone.  No single foreign representative had offered them help or counsel.  They saw submission or destruction before them.  “What is the use of our resisting?” said one.  “The Japanese always get their way in the end.”  Signs of yielding began to appear.  The acting Prime Minister, Han Kew-sul, jumped to his feet and said he would go and tell the Emperor of the talk of traitors.  Han Kew-sul was allowed to leave the room and then was gripped by the Japanese Secretary of the Legation, thrown into a side-room and threatened with death.  Even Marquis Ito went out to him to persuade him.  “Would you not yield,” the Marquis said, “if your Emperor commanded you?” “No,” said Han Kew-sul, “not even then!”

This was enough.  The Marquis at once went to the Emperor.  “Han Kew-sul is a traitor,” he said.  “He defies you, and declares that he will not obey your commands.”

Meanwhile the remaining Ministers waited in the Cabinet Chamber.  Where was their leader, the man who had urged them all to resist to death?  Minute after minute passed, and still he did not return.  Then a whisper went round that the Japanese had killed him.  The harsh voices of the Japanese grew still more strident.  Courtesy and restraint were thrown off.  “Agree with us and be rich, or oppose us and perish.”  Pak Che-sun, the Foreign Minister, one of the best and most capable of Korean statesmen, was the last to yield.  But even he finally gave way.  In the early hours of the morning commands were issued that the seal of State should be brought from the Foreign Minister’s apartment, and a treaty should be signed.  Here another difficulty arose.  The custodian of the seal had received orders in advance that, even if his master commanded, the seal was not to be surrendered for any such purpose.  When telephonic orders were sent to him, he refused to bring the seal along, and special messengers had to be despatched to take it from him by force.  The Emperor himself asserts to this day that he did not consent.