by Donald Keene
I have been greatly pleased to learn that Your Highness has enjoyed perfect health ever since taking up residence in Tōkyō, despite the differences in climate and surroundings. Your studies of the Japanese language advance day by day, and I am sure that you have noted many things here that are unlike those in your own country. I hope you will show ever greater diligence in your studies and achieve even better results.2
At this time the emperor also sent a message to Emperor Sunjong, informing him that he was doing everything possible to ensure that the Korean prince did well in his studies.3 On February 9 Yi Eun moved from the Shiba Detached Palace to his own house in Toriizaka Street. This was the occasion for more gifts from the emperor, the empress, and the crown prince. In May the emperor sent Yi Eun a cricket bat and a bookcase.4
The Japanese and the Korean courts exchanged messages on Yi Eun’s progress in his studies, and occasionally a Korean official visited Japan to confirm that the prince’s education was proceeding satisfactorily. The Japanese made every effort to convince the Koreans that Yi Eun was happy and benefiting from his stay in Japan, part of their long-range plan to bring Japan and Korea even closer.
The emperor, however, does not seem to have been entirely convinced by the glowing reports he kept receiving of the successful collaboration between the two countries. When Itō Hirobumi returned to Korea at the end of March, the emperor sent with him an official who was asked to find answers to such questions of the emperor as
1. While Itō was back in Japan, was there a decline in efficiency in the administration under Vice Resident General Sone Arasuke?
2. To what degree do the Korean emperor and retired emperor trust Sone?
3. How strong is the pro-Japanese faction in the Korean cabinet?
4. The only Koreans in the cabinet are the ministers themselves, and all the assistant ministers and bureau chiefs are Japanese. Does this mean the minister is merely a figurehead? Do the vice ministers act in a highhanded manner? Do the ministers and vice ministers work together harmoniously?
5. To what degree has Sone won the confidence of the Koreans in general?
6. What are the reactions at different levels of Korean society to the prolonged stay of the crown prince, Yi Eun, in Japan?
The official spent about a month investigating such matters in Korea, returning early in May to report to the emperor.5
It was, of course, highly unlikely that the emperor would be informed that relations between the Koreans and the Japanese were deteriorating or that Sone was not trusted by the Koreans, but the fact that he had such questions suggests he was unwilling to accept at face value the optimistic reports submitted by his advisers.
The emperor was right to question the assurances he had received. There were continual outbreaks of violence in Korea against Japanese domination of the country, and the Japanese army was hard-pressed to subdue them. In May, Itō Hirobumi cabled Army Minister Terauchi Masatake asking for more Japanese troops in Korea. The matter was brought to the attention of the emperor, who told Itō that he was granting permission for sending additional troops to Korea and hoped Itō would use them to put a speedy end to the disturbances.6
On October 13 the emperor issued a rescript expressing concern over the gradual deterioration since the Russo-Japanese War in the spirit of the people, revealed especially in their tendency toward frivolity. He opened his message with an affirmation of his belief that the cultures of East and West were steadily drawing closer together, to the advantage of both. He mentioned his own efforts to establish friendly relations with other countries and the likelihood that benefits would result from these new relations. However, he noted, even during the short time since the war ended, the people had become lax. He urged the Japanese to bestir themselves and work together diligently in a spirit of trueheartedness.7
The morose mood of the Japanese after the Russo-Japanese War, already mentioned, seems to have come to the emperor’s attention, although he interpreted it not as a sign of depression or disillusion with the current situation but as a flabbiness of spirit revealed in an attraction to superficial pleasures. He seemed to be asking why the Japanese did not show (by working harder) their gratitude for the blessings they now shared with the peoples of other countries.
In November the emperor left for Nara and Hyōgo Prefectures, where there were to be army and navy maneuvers. In Nara, the Grand Headquarters were in the Nara Club, a far cry from the primitive conditions under which earlier maneuvers had been carried out. The land maneuvers, attended by military attachés from eighteen countries, lasted for four days. A special character was given to these maneuvers by the site, the Three Mountains of Yamato, celebrated in poetry ever since the Man’yōshū. The emperor supervised the maneuvers from an observation post on Mount Miminashi. He did not overtly express pleasure to be in these historic surroundings, but his attendants, reasoning that Mount Miminashi was not far from the tomb of Emperor Jimmu northwest of Mount Unebi, another of the Three Mountains, wondered whether the emperor might not wish to pay his respects at the tomb. They accordingly made preparations, but when the emperor’s expected command to arrange for a visit to the tomb did not materialize, an attendant plainly asked the emperor his intentions. He responded that it would be disrespectful to worship at an imperial tomb simply because it happened to be in the vicinity: “I came here in order to supervise the Grand Maneuvers. I will come at another time to pay my respects.” It is said that the attendant was dismayed to think he had so badly misunderstood the emperor’s wishes.8
The emperor, probably for similar reasons (although it may have also reflected his indifference to Buddhism), showed no desire to sightsee at the Hōryū-ji or any of the other famous temples in the region, but he sent a chamberlain to the Danzan Shrine and another to the tomb of the famous loyalist Kitabatake Chikafusa. From Nara he traveled to Kōbe, where he observed a naval review. Although the review was undoubtedly more interesting and more aesthetically pleasing than the maneuvers he had just witnessed, the emperor’s partiality for the army was no secret, and he probably was relieved when the review was over.9
Although 1908 was not a particularly exciting year, there was no lack of personal events. The emperor’s eldest daughter, Masako, was married to Prince Tsunehisa on April 30. Several distinguished foreigners were received at the court, including the great German scientist Robert Koch and the Swedish explorer Sven Hedin. The painter Hashimoto Gahō, the jurist Kojima Korekata, and the founder of the Ezo Republic, Enomoto Takeaki, died that year. Word was also received of the deaths of foreign monarchs—King Carlos of Portugal (the victim of an assassination), King Oscar II of Sweden (after a long and peaceful reign), and Emperor Kuang-hsü and Empress Dowager Tz’u-hsi of China (after a particularly disastrous reign). Prime Minister Saionji resigned in July and was replaced once again (in Cox and Box fashion) by Katsura Tarō, whose statement of political views, presented to the emperor, included a warning that socialism was spreading.10 As far as the emperor was concerned, however, the most memorable feature of the year may have been the presence of Yi Eun, his surrogate son.
The next year, 1909, opened with the customary rituals, given a novel touch this year because Prince Yi Eun took part in the New Year ceremony of congratulations in the Phoenix Hall along with members of the Japanese imperial family. This may have been a further sign of the Japanese government’s intention of uniting Japan and Korea, but perhaps it was no more than a sign of the emperor’s high regard for the Korean crown prince.
On February 22 the Korean minister of the imperial household, Min Pyongsok, arrived in Tōkyō and stayed at the Metropole Hotel. On the twenty-fifth he and four other Korean officials visited the palace and, accompanied by Itō Hirobumi, had an audience with the emperor in the Phoenix Hall. Min brought a letter from the Korean emperor expressing his thanks for the message of encouragement he had received when he set out on a hunting tour of the Korean hinterland. This chief purpose of this excursion, in imitation of the junkō carried o
ut by Meiji early in his reign, was acquainting the emperor with conditions among his people. Meiji ordered ships of the Japanese fleet to sail to Pusan so that when the Korean emperor’s travels took him to southern Korea, he would be able to inspect the ships.11 The Korean emperor’s letter expressed gratitude for a gesture that had deeply moved him. He sent the letter to Emperor Meiji in the hope that the friendship between the two sovereigns would be perpetual and increasingly cordial.
The Korean emperor’s letter included many kind words for Itō Hirobumi who, he said, was completely informed about the situation in Korea. Ever since taking up his post as governor general, Itō had made improvements in the Korean government and had helped the emperor in innumerable ways. For example, although Itō was an old man, he had not avoided the fatigue and cold of the emperor’s journey to remote parts of the country but had accompanied the emperor on his junkō and done everything possible to be of service. He had patiently counseled the officials and people of both countries and had in this way cleared up the misunderstandings of uneducated Koreans, which would surely be of great value in the country’s future development. The Korean emperor directed Min to voice his unbounded thanks for the emperor’s great concern for Korea exemplified by his stationing Itō permanently in Korea.12
Emperor Sunjong sent lavish presents to the emperor, empress, crown prince, and crown princess. It is hard to imagine, however, despite his praise and his gifts, that he was really grateful for Itō’s directives on not only foreign policy but also internal affairs. Nor could he have forgotten the brutality Itō displayed in forcing Emperor Kojong to abdicate. Some of Itō’s reforms were in fact probably beneficial, but Sunjong tactfully did not refer to the constant incidents of violence in every part of the country in protest against Japanese rule.
By contrast, relations between the emperor and the Korean crown prince were extremely friendly. On April 30, for example, Yi Eun visited the palace and was granted an audience with Emperor Meiji. On this occasion the emperor presented the prince with a silver vase and a telescope. The silver vase was a conventional gift, but the telescope was intended to please a twelve-year-old boy. Yi Eun had a favor to ask of the emperor. Eight high-ranking Korean dignitaries had come to Japan for sight-seeing, and the prince asked the emperor to receive them. This was not the kind of request to which the emperor readily granted, but he at once consented. He told the group, “We have granted you an audience today because the crown prince of your country has wished it. We hear that you have come here for sight-seeing. We hope that you will have sufficient opportunity to carry out your observations.”13 The emperor’s words were hardly genial; instead of mentioning, in the conventional manner, his pleasure in seeing these visitors, he stated his reason for granting the audience: the Korean crown prince had wished it.
Itō must have found it an increasing strain to have to administer a country where he not only was hated but was in constant danger of violence. In his memorial to the throne on May 25, he mentioned with pride his achievements in Korea but said he was tired after three and a half years in his post and asked to resign. The emperor at first refused, but on June 14 he accepted the resignation, appointing in Itō’s place Sone Arasuke (1849–1910), previously the vice governor general. Itō resumed his position as president of the Privy Council. The emperor bestowed a rescript on Itō, praising him for his loyalty and his great success in the post of governor general. The rescript was accompanied by a gift of 100,000 yen, a fortune in those days. The empress sent Itō two silver bowls.14
On July 6 Katsura Tarō was received in audience by the emperor. The emperor approved of Katsura’s policy with respect to the matter at hand, the annexation of Korea. During the past months, there had been a gradual increase in the number of intellectuals in both Japan and Korea who believed that a union of the two countries was inevitable. In March the foreign minister, Komura Jutarō, in assessing the gains that had been achieved since Japan took Korea under its protection, declared that in order for Japanese strength to be firmly established on the Korea peninsula and for the national policy on Korea to be successful, it would be necessary at some appropriate time to incorporate Korea into Japanese territory. He proposed that the government bear in mind the annexation of Korea as its eventual goal and that until that time projects relating to Korea should always accord with this goal. Katsura, accepting the suggestion, asked Itō his opinion. Itō was reputed to oppose annexation, but when he replied that he had no objection, Katsura decided to secure the approval of the entire cabinet. Now he also had the emperor’s consent.15
Itō paid a short visit to Korea in July for the official transfer of his position to Sone Arasuke. He returned to Japan on July 20. The emperor sent a carriage to Shimbashi Station to welcome Itō back. Itō’s reception ranked second only to that accorded to a victorious general of the army. He was escorted to the palace by a guard of honor consisting of a regiment of Imperial Guards infantry and a platoon of Imperial Guards cavalry.
On July 26 Itō was appointed as director of education of the Korean crown prince, an indication of his importance to Japan. On the same day Sone Arasuke handed the Korean prime minister, Yi Wan-yong, a memorandum relating to the Central Bank of Korea. It was an agreement for the establishment of a central monetary agency, known as the Bank of Korea, all of whose activities were to be in the hands of the Japanese government.16
The dedication of the new shrine building at the Ise Shrine, a ceremony that occurs once every twenty years, took place on the night of October 2. The emperor sent officials to represent him but remained in Tōkyō, where he performed “distant worshiping” from the palace. On this occasion the emperor, unusually of late, wore traditional robes, and all the chamberlains and civil and military officials were attired in appropriate vestments.17 Although for years the emperor had declined to participate in most of the traditional rites, at the time of this important Shintō ceremony, he felt impelled to manifest his firm belief in the gods.
On October 9 Itō, about to leave for Manchuria, had an audience with the emperor. He sailed from Moji on the sixteenth for Dairen, where he visited the sites of the battle for Port Arthur. He left Port Arthur for Harbin by train. On arriving in Dairen, Itō stated that his journey was essentially a pleasure tour to a country that he had not previously visited.18 More likely, however, the real purpose of the journey was to discuss with Finance Minister V. N. Kokovtsev the forthcoming Japanese annexation of Korea.
Itō’s train arrived in Harbin on October 26 at nine in the morning. Kokovtsev boarded the train to welcome Itō. Russian guards were lined up along the railway platform, but judging from the photograph taken at the time, no special security precautions were in effect.19 Itō was asked by Kokovtsev, the honorary commander of the railway guards, to review them, and he consented. He, Kokovtsev, and other officials stepped down from the train onto the platform. A photograph taken at this moment shows Itō, recognizable by his white moustache and beard, lifting his hat in salutation to the director of the Eastern Chinese Railway.20
When the review ended, Itō turned back to greet a delegation of Japanese residents of Harbin who had come to welcome him. He had taken a few steps in their direction when suddenly a young man in Western clothes leaped forward from behind the troops and, aiming his pistol at Itō,21 fired six shots, the first three mortally wounding him.22 Members of Itō’s party carried him back inside the train, and doctors administered emergency treatment, but he died half an hour later. He was informed shortly before he breathed his last that the assailant had been a Korean. His last words are said to have been, “Damned fool!” (baka na yatsu ja).23
The assassin, An Chung-gun, was quickly seized by Russian guards, but before he was carried off, he managed to emit three cries of “Korea hurrah!”24 This was the first anyone realized that he was a Korean. It is hard to blame the Russians for having failed to distinguish his nationality at first sight. He was about the same height as the average Japanese (five feet, three inches), and his features
were such that he could easily pass for a Japanese. He had also taken the precaution of dressing in the best Western clothes he could afford25 in order to look like a prosperous Japanese resident of Harbin welcoming Itō to the city.
An Chung-gun was born in 1879 to a yangban (noble) Korean family that could trace its ancestors back twenty-six generations.26 Seven moles on his chest and abdomen led to the nickname he often used, An Un-chil.27 It was expected that he would become a scholar, following his family’s traditions. His grandfather had six sons, all known for their literary skill, and among them Chung-gun’s father was the most brilliant. At the age of eight or nine, he was able to read the Four Books and the Three Classics of Confucianism and was acclaimed as a genius. Chung-gun, however, did not become a man of letters (although he was an accomplished calligrapher) but a man of action. Even as a boy he was known as a skillful marksman, and he preferred hunting to books. When he was first interrogated after being arrested, he gave as his profession “hunter.”28
In the account of his life he wrote in a prison cell while awaiting the death sentence, An related what had led to his conversion to Catholicism. His father, incensed over the violently anti-intellectual Tonghak rebellion, had formed a “righteous army” of some seventy soldiers who assumed responsibility for protecting their village from the rebels.29 An Chung-gun joined them, but they were no match in numbers for the Tonghak. He wrote that fighting them was like throwing eggs against a rock. But the “righteous soldiers” persevered and eventually won some victories against the superior Tonghak forces, only to be attacked by the new pro-Russian government.30
