“When it was recently made known the Marquis Ito would come to Korea our deluded people all said, with one voice, that he is the man who will be responsible for the maintenance of friendship between the three countries of the Far East (Japan, China, and Korea), and, believing that his visit to Korea was for the sole purpose of devising good plans for strictly maintaining the promised integrity and independence of Korea, our people, from the seacoast to the capital, united in extending to him a hearty welcome.

“But oh!  How difficult is it to anticipate affairs in this world.  Without warning, a proposal containing five clauses was laid before the Emperor, and we then saw how mistaken we were about the object of Marquis Ito’s visit.  However, the Emperor firmly refused to have anything to do with these proposals and Marquis Ito should then, properly, have abandoned his attempt and returned to his own country.

“But the Ministers of our Government, who are worse than pigs or dogs, coveting honours and advantages for themselves, and frightened by empty threats, were trembling in every limb, and were willing to become traitors to their country and betray to Japan the integrity of a nation which has stood for 4,000 years, the foundation and honour of a dynasty 500 years old, and the rights and freedom of twenty million people.

“We do not wish to too deeply blame Pak Che-sun and the other Ministers, of whom, as they are little better than brute animals, too much was not to be expected, but what can be said of the Vice-Prime Minister, the chief of the Cabinet, whose early opposition to the proposals of Marquis Ito was an empty form devised to enhance his reputation with the people?

“Can he not now repudiate the agreement or can he not rid the world of his presence?  How can he again stand before the Emperor and with what face can he ever look upon any one of his twenty million compatriots?

“Is it worth while for any of us to live any longer?  Our people have become the slaves of others, and the spirit of a nation which has stood for 4,000 years, since the days of Tun Kun and Ke-ja has perished in a single night.  Alas! fellow-countrymen.  Alas!”

Suicides, resignations, and lamentation were of no avail.  The Japanese gendarmes commanded the streets, and the Japanese soldiers, behind them, were ready to back up their will by the most unanswerable of arguments—­force.

Naturally, as might have been expected by those who know something of the character of the Japanese, every effort was made to show that there had been no breach of treaty promises.  Korea was still an independent country, and the dignity of its Imperial house was still unimpaired.  Japan had only brought a little friendly pressure on a weaker brother to assist him along the path of progress.  Such talk pleased the Japanese, and helped them to reconcile the contrast between their solemn promises and their actions.  It deceived no one else.  Soon even, the Japanese papers made little or no more talk of Korean independence.  “Korean independence is a farce,” they said.  And for the time they were right.