by Donald Keene
Some have regarded the Tonghak as a type of religious group, imbued with a mixture of Confucianism and Taoism. Others have considered them to be an association of political reformers. Others have seen them merely as a lawless gang spoiling for a fight. Here, we are less concerned with their character and motivation than with the simple fact that in April and May of 1894, a group of insurgents calling themselves Tonghak rose in rebellion throughout the provinces of Cholla and Ch’ung-ch’ong. After they had pillaged homes and expelled the local officials in these provinces, they continued their rampage toward Kyonggi Province and occupied Chonju (the capital city of Cholla) for a time.29
The reactions in Japan to the Tonghaks’ early successes were mixed. Some favored sending Japanese troops into Korea in order to help the feeble Korean government suppress the revolt. Others believed that the Tonghaks were reformers whose aim was to rescue the suffering Korean people from a corrupt government. In recent years, some scholars have discounted the importance of the Tonghak religion to the rebellion, insisting that (despite its garments of religion) it was essentially a peasant movement.30
At first, observers believed that the Tonghaks were not strong enough to overthrow the existing regime, but when the Tonghaks approached Seoul, the Korean government panicked and appealed to Yüan Shih-k’ai for help in putting down the revolt. On June 2 Mutsu had word of the Korean request from Sugimura Fukashi, the chargé d’affaires at the Japanese legation in Seoul, and at once informed the cabinet of his intention to send “a substantial number” of Japanese troops to the peninsula in order to maintain the balance of power between the Japanese and the Chinese. The cabinet concurred unanimously, and the prime minister went to the palace to obtain the emperor’s approval. The emperor gave his consent in a brief rescript stating that during this period of revolts and disorders in Korea, troops would be sent to protect the lives of resident Japanese.31
The Japanese minister to Korea,Ōtori Keisuke (1832–1911), who happened to be on a leave of absence in Japan, was sent back to Korea on June 5 with instructions to devote his full energies to achieving the Japanese objectives of national honor and a balance of power with China. Insofar as possible, a peaceful solution should be sought. Mutsu wrote, “In the event a Sino-Japanese conflict occurred, we were determined to have the Chinese be the aggressors, while we ourselves assumed the position of the aggrieved party.”32
Through the minister plenipotentiary to Japan, Wang Feng-tsao, the Chinese government informed the Japanese government that at the request of the king of Korea, it was sending “a small number” of troops to Korea in order to suppress the Tonghak faction. According to Mutsu, Wang “had foolishly concluded that Japan was too debilitated internally to engage in conflict with another power.”
The Chinese had obtained this impression from the endless, acrimonious debates in the Diet, a political phenomenon unknown in their own country. Exasperated by the constant attacks on himself and his cabinet, Itō Hirobumi said that even though five years had passed since the constitution was put into effect, members of the Diet were still wandering like “lost sheep.” Each political party tried to outdo the others in opposing the government, even if this was harmful to the future of the country. Itō’s solution was for the emperor to summon the leaders of all parties and command them to hearken to the imperial will.33 It is not clear whether Itō actually submitted this request; in any case, Meiji did not react.
Noticing the sharp divergence of views expressed in the Diet, the Chinese could not easily appreciate (and the exasperated Itō sometimes forgot) the intense patriotism of the Japanese, which would sweep away divergences if ever their country was threatened by another. The assumption of the Chinese that their army and their navy were superior to Japan’s was shared by many Japanese. Hayashi Tadasu wrote, “Before the Sino-Japanese War, Japanese would laugh at the backwardness of the Chinese and speak of them with contempt, but they were in fact extremely afraid of them.”34
On June 7 Mutsu wired instructions to Komura Jutarō (1855–1911), the Japanese chargé d’affaires in Peking, directing him to notify the Chinese that the Japanese government, in keeping with the Treaty of Tientsin, intended to send troops to Korea. The Chinese replied that they were acting in compliance with a Korean request for assistance in subduing a rebellion. This, they said, was in keeping with their traditional practice of protecting tributary states. The last words could not be passed over without comment by the Japanese. Mutsu in his reply stated that “the Japanese government did not and never had recognized Korea as a tributary state of China.”35 Throughout the ensuing war, the Japanese never ceased to insist on this point, but the fact remained that the Koreans had asked the Chinese—and not the Japanese—to protect them.
Ōtori arrived in Inch’on on June 9 and proceeded to Seoul, accompanied by 300 Japanese marines. He was followed by a battalion of army troops. In the meantime, the Tonghaks had become discouraged and had virtually ceased their advance on Seoul, the direct cause of the Chinese presence. Discovering that Seoul was surprisingly calm, Ōtori recommended that no large body of Japanese troops be sent to Korea, but this did not alter Mutsu’s belief that “the issue would be settled by whichever side enjoyed superior troop strength.”36 On June 11 a mixed brigade under the command of General Ōshima Yoshimasa left Ujina for Inch’on. By the fifteenth of the month, the Tonghak rebellion seemed to have ended, but the Chinese and Japanese armies showed no signs of leaving the peninsula.37
At this juncture Itō proposed that the Chinese and Japanese cooperate to terminate the rebellion and, when this had been accomplished, send commissioners to improve Korea’s internal administration, especially finances and military preparation. If the Chinese refused to join the Japanese, the Japanese would assume sole responsibility. The plan was sent to the emperor for his approval, but he seemed uneasy about the provision (which Mutsu had added to Itō’s original plan) that Japan would act unilaterally if necessary. He sent the chief chamberlain to question this provision. Mutsu came to the palace to explain in detail, and the emperor finally gave his consent.38
As Mutsu had expected, the Chinese were unwilling to accept the plan. On June 21 the Chinese minister reported that his government had rejected the Japanese plan, for three reasons:
First, as the disturbance in Korea had already been quelled, it was no longer essential for Chinese forces to act on behalf of the Korean government in finishing off the rebels. It followed that there was equally no need for China and Japan to act jointly in suppressing the disturbance. Second, while the Japanese government’s ideas about Korea’s future might well be excellent ones, it was for the Koreans themselves to reform their country…. Finally, the terms of the Treaty of Tientsin obliged both Japan and China to withdraw their troops as soon as the disturbance occasioning their dispatch had been quelled. A mutual withdrawal of Japanese and Chinese troops at this point was thus completely justified and required no further discussion.39
The arguments of the Chinese were irrefutable, but Mutsu declared that “from the outset, however, our government had insisted that we would not feel secure until the evils lying at the root of the rebellion in Korea had been eradicated.” He informed the Chinese that the Japanese government found it impossible to order the withdrawal of Japanese troops from Korea. Japan could not stand by while Korea was in such a wretched condition, as this would be contrary to the friendship that should prevail between neighboring nations. It also ran counter to Japanese security needs. Yamagata Aritomo observed on June 23 that war between China and Japan was inevitable.
On June 26 Ōtori Keisuke had an audience with King Kojong at which he insisted on the importance of internal reform. On the twenty-eighth he demanded that the Korean authorities disclose whether Korea was an independent country or only a vassal of China. The Korean court was thrown into a state of panic by the question, and the discussions did not reach any conclusion. At this stage, Ōtori received from the Japanese government instructions that reform in Korea could not be
expected until Chinese influence had been destroyed. No doubt this made Ōtori intensify his demands for an answer. On June 30 the Korean court at last affirmed that it was an independent country.40
On July 3 Ōtori, with the assurance that Korea was an independent country, had an audience with the king of Korea during which he proposed reforms in Korea’s administration, finances, laws, military, and education. The court was still dominated by the reactionary Sadaedang, which stood in awe of China and detested reforms, but Ōtori’s proposal was backed by the might of the Japanese armed forces, and they could not refuse. The king issued a rescript blaming himself for the crisis, expressing shame over the years of bad government and grief over the repeated internal revolts. He attributed all that had gone wrong to his own lack of virtue and the incompetence of his officials. He set up a committee for reform and ordered it to consult with the Japanese minister.41
One after another of the principal Japanese figures came out in favor of war. Count Matsukata Masayoshi, learning that at its meeting the previous day the cabinet had not reached a decision to open hostilities against the Chinese, visited Itō Hirobumi on July 12 to express his concern over the government’s hesitation. He declared that the arrogance of the Chinese grew worse each day and accused them of committing outrages of every sort in Korea. He deplored the government’s failure to take advantage of the opportunity it had been given to carry out its mandate. Itō thought that there was still insufficient reason for declaring war, but Matsukata declared that the public, even enemies of the government, was united in support of war. He predicted that if action were not taken in the next couple of days, it would be impossible to control public unrest and that there would be no guaranteeing that some foreign power might not intervene. Withdrawing Japanese troops from Korea would lower Japan’s national prestige in the eyes of foreigners, and its national unity would be once again imperiled. Matsukata ended by threatening never again to see Itō if he disregarded his advice.
Itō agreed to consider Matsukata’s views, but unlike Matsukata, who was not in the government, he could not forget his responsibilities as prime minister. Moreover, he was close to the emperor and knew that he was extremely reluctant to open hostilities, fearing that war between Japan and China might give some third country an opportunity to intervene.42
Li Hung-chang asked the Russians to mediate, and they gladly agreed. Russia’s interest in Korea, particularly in obtaining an ice-free port there, would be an important factor in developments in the region for years to come. The Japanese thanked the Russians for the offer of mediation but said they would withdraw from the peninsula just as soon as conditions permitted.43
The British also expressed their desire for peace in East Asia. In April 1894 the British government agreed on a revised treaty. Although the British refusal to give up extraterritoriality had long been a sore point with the Japanese, England was about to become the first major country to grant Japan equality.44 Prime Minister William Gladstone, who had newly formed a cabinet, declared that he not only considered the continuation of consular courts in Japan to be inappropriate but also believed that the abolition of these courts was of urgent importance in strengthening the ties of friendship between the two nations. But when the British offered on July 17 to mediate, the Japanese, who by this time had decided on war and were uninterested in the British proposal, deliberately proposed conditions that they knew the Chinese could not accept. The Japanese declared that any reinforcement of Chinese troops in Korea would be considered a provocation. The British protested, saying that this stipulation was in contravention of the Treaty of Tientsin, but the Japanese replied that the matter was not one on which they were subject to questioning by the British. The latter gave up their efforts to mediate.45
On July 23 Japanese troops of the mixed brigade entered Seoul at dawn. As they approached the royal palace, Korean soldiers suddenly opened fire. The Japanese answered this fire and entered the palace precincts, driving out the Korean troops and taking their place in guarding the palace. The king called on his father, the taewon’gun, to assume charge of the government. Although the taewon’gun had been bitterly anti-Japanese, his experiences as a prisoner of the Chinese had changed his outlook, and he now welcomed Ōtori to the palace. He informed him that the king had delegated to himself full powers to reform the government. He promised that he would always consult with Ōtori before taking any steps. On July 25 the taewon’gun announced the abrogation of the Korean treaty with China.46
The first battle of the war (which had not yet been declared) took place on July 25 when elements of the Japanese fleet encountered two Chinese warships, a cruiser and a gunboat, heading toward Asan. Not only did the Chinese ships fail to salute the Japanese flag, but their battle stations were manned. When the two fleets had closed to about 10,000 feet, the cruiser Chi-yüan opened fire, and the three Japanese ships returned it. After a battle lasting for more than an hour, the Chi-yüan, badly damaged, fled, and the gunboat was beached and abandoned. Two other ships approached, the warship Ts’ao-chiang and the British merchant ship Kao-hsing, carrying a thousand Chinese troops to Asan. During the ensuing action, the Ts’ao-chiang raised the white flag of surrender. The Naniwa, commanded by Captain Tōgō Heihachirō, ordered the Kao-hsing to weigh anchor and follow behind. When this order was disregarded, he sank the ship. The captain and two other British officers were rescued, but the Chinese crew and the thousand soldiers were left to drown. The sinking at first aroused anger in England, but British experts defended the Japanese action as appropriate in wartime, and the matter was allowed to drop, since that was to the advantage of the British government.47
The first land engagement took place on July 29 when the mixed brigade commanded by General Ōshima encountered the Chinese at Song-hwan. As usual, Japanese accounts of the battle state that the Chinese opened fire first and that the Japanese did no more than answer their fire. The Japanese, in any case, were victorious, putting the Chinese to rout and capturing their base at Asan.
On August 1 the Japanese declared war on China. The emperor issued a rescript to the military, urging them to fight on land and on the sea until the nation’s objectives were attained. They were urged to use all means at their disposal to achieve victory, providing that they did not violate international law.48
There can be no doubting the intense enthusiasm engendered by the war among the Japanese. This was the first time since Hideyoshi’s abortive attempt in the sixteenth century to conquer Korea that Japanese troops were fighting foreigners abroad, and it seemed a confirmation of Japan’s new status among the nations of the world. China, by contrast, appeared to the Japanese like the embodiment of all that Japan had rejected—an “unenlightened” country that prided itself on past glories rather than on present achievements.
Fukuzawa Yukichi, the prime exponent of enlightenment, published an article in which he declared that a war with China was necessary in order that the Chinese might benefit by the enlightenment that had been denied them by their obstinate Manchu rulers. He considered China’s interference in Korea to be an intolerable attempt to prevent the spread of enlightenment, and the war itself not merely a struggle between two countries but a “battle for the sake of world culture.”49
Uchimura Kanzō, who was later known for his pacifism, published in August 1894 an article in English entitled “Justification of the Corean War.” He was certain that the “Corean War now opened between Japan and China” was a righteous war.50 He wrote,
The Corean War is to decide whether Progress shall be the law in the East, as it has long been in the West, or whether Retrogression, fostered once by the Persian Empire; then by Carthage, and again by Spain, and now at last (last in the world’s history, we hope) by the Manchurian Empire of China, shall possess the Orient forever. Japan’s victory shall mean free government, free religion, free education, and free commerce for 600,000,000 souls that live on this side of the globe.51
Uchimura concluded by declaring, “Japan is the
champion of Progress in the East, and who, except her deadly foe, China—the incorrigible hater of Progress—wishes not victory for Japan!”
The initial victories of the Japanese military in Korea brought on a wave of patriotic fervor that was heightened by the nishikie drawn and published as fast as news reached Japan. The battle of Song-hwan produced two heroes whose deeds were commemorated pictorially by various artists and in poetry composed by both Japanese and foreigners. The first hero at Song-hwan was Captain Matsuzaki Naoomi. Struck by a bullet in the leg, he went on fighting until another bullet struck his head. Yarareta (I’m done for!) was his last utterance. Matsuzaki’s fame, however, was soon eclipsed by that of an ordinary private, Shirakami Genjirō,52 who fell in action on the same day, July 29, 1894. Reports told how Shirakami, though struck by a bullet, continued to blow his bugle to his last breath. When his corpse was found, the bugle was still pressed to his lips. Before long, a flood of poetry and nishikie had been inspired by the heroic bugler. For example, Toyama Masakazu composed the lengthy poem “I Am a Bugler,” which opens in this manner:
Okayama kenjin Shirakami Genjirō.
Kare wa mata ikko no rappashu narishi nari.
Hito wa ieri. Kare was tadatada rappafuki nari to.
Kare wa ieri. Ware was tadatada rappafuki nari to.53
Shirakami Genjirō, Okayama man,
He too was a bugler.
People said, “He is just a bugle-blower.”
He said, “I am just a bugle-blower.”
The unspoken point of these lines is that Shirakami did not belong to the samurai class but was a mere conscript who merely blew a bugle. Indeed, most of the heroes of the Sino-Japanese War were men of humble social origins. The fact that these soldiers performed acts of bravery of a kind that had hitherto been associated exclusively with the samurai class proved that the entire Japanese people possessed the virtues of bravery and loyalty.
