Chapter VII: Part 7

The trial was held in a fashion which aroused immediate and wide-spread indignation. It was held, of course, in Japanese, and the official translator was openly charged in court with minimizing and altering the statements made by the prisoners. The judges acted in a way that brought disgrace on the court, bullying, mocking and browbeating the prisoners. The high Japanese officials who attended heartily backed the sallies of the bench.

The missionaries who, according to the confessions, had encouraged the conspirators were not placed on trial. The prisoners urged that they should be allowed to call them and others as witnesses, and they were eager to come. The request was refused. Under Japanese law, the judges have an absolute right to decide what witnesses shall, or shall not be called. The prosecuting counsel denied the charge of torture, and declared that all of the men had been physically examined and not one of them had even a sign of having been subjected to such ill-treatment Thereupon prisoners rose up and asked to be allowed to show the marks still on them. "I was bound up for about a month and subjected to torture," said one. "I have still marks of it upon my body." But when he asked permission to display the marks to the Court, "the Court," according to the newspaper reports, "sternly refused to allow this to be done."

The trial closed on August 30th, and judgment was delivered on September 21st. Six prisoners, including Yun Chi-ho and Yang Ki-tak, were sentenced to ten years' penal servitude; eighteen to seven years' penal servitude; forty to six years; forty-two to five years; and seventeen discharged.

The trial was widely reported, and there was a wave of indignation, particularly in America. The case was brought before the Court of Appeal, and Judge Suzuki, who heard the appeal, was given orders by the Government-General that he was to act in conciliatory fashion. The whole atmosphere of the Court of Appeal was different. There was no bullying, no browbeating. The prisoners were listened to indulgently, and were allowed considerable latitude in developing their defence. Let me add that both in the first and in subsequent trials, prominent Japanese counsel appeared for the prisoners, and defended them in a manner in accordance with the best traditions of the law.

The prisoners were now permitted in the Appeal Court to relate in detail how their "confessions" had been extracted from them by torture. Here are some typical passages from the evidence.

Chi Sang-chu was a Presbyterian, and a clerk by calling. He denied that he was guilty.

"All my confession was made under torture. I did not make these statements of my own accord. The police said they must know what information they wanted. They stripped me naked, tied my hands behind my back, and hung me up in a doorway, removing the bench on which I stood. They swung me, making me bump against a door, like a crane dancing. When I lost consciousness, I was taken down and given water, and tortured again when I came to.

"A policeman covered my mouth with my hand, and poured water into my nose. Again my thumbs were tied behind my back, one arm over and one under, and I was hung up by the cord tying them. A lighted cigarette was pressed against my body, and I was struck in my private parts. Thus I was tortured for three or four days. One evening, just after the meal, I was hung up again, and was told that I would be released if I confessed, but if not I would be tortured till I died. They were determined to make me say whatever they wanted. Leaving me hanging, the policemen went to sleep, and I fainted from the torture of hanging there.

"When I came to, I found myself lying on the floor, the police giving me water. They showed me a paper, which they said was the order of release for Yi Keun-tak and O Hak-su, who had confessed. If I wanted to be set at liberty I must do the same. Then they beat me again. I saw the paper and managed with difficulty to read it. It was to the effect that they did confess and promised never to do such things again.

"I was then introduced to Yi Keun-tak, who, they said, had confessed and been acquitted, and they urged me to follow Yi's example. I urged them to treat me as they had treated Yi. They told me what to confess, but as I had never heard of such things I refused, and they said they had better kill me.

"They resumed their tortures, and after two or three months, being unable to bear it any longer, I confessed all that is required."

Paik Yong-sok, a milk seller and a Presbyterian, with eleven in his family, said he had been a Christian for fifteen years and had determined only to follow the teachings of the Bible; he had never thought of assassination or considered establishing the independence of the country. Having to support a family of eleven, he had no time for such things.

He had made the confession recited by the Court, but it was under compulsion and false. "For a number of days I was tortured twice by day and twice by night. I was blindfolded, hung up, beaten. Often I fainted, being unable to breathe. I thought I was dying and asked the police to shoot me, so intolerable were my tortures. Driven beyond the bounds of endurance by hunger, thirst and pain, I said I would say whatever they wanted.

"The police told me that I was of no account among the twenty million Koreans, and they could kill or acquit me as they pleased.... Meanwhile five or six police dropped in and said, 'Have you repented? Did you take part in the assassination plots?' It was too much for me to say 'Yes' to this question, so I replied 'No.' Immediately they slapped my cheeks, stripped me, struck, beat and tormented me. It is quite beyond my power to describe the difficulty of enduring such pain."

The man paused and pointed to a Japanese, Watanabe by name, sitting behind the judges, "That interpreter knows all about it," he said, "He was one of the men who struck me." Watanabe was pointed out by other prisoners as a man who had been prominent in tormenting them.

Im Do-myong, a barber and a Presbyterian, also fell into the hands of experts at the game.

"At the police headquarters, I was hung up, beaten with an iron rod and tortured twice a day. Then I was taken into the presence of superiors, the interpreter (pointing out Watanabe, who was sitting: behind the judges) being present, and tortured again.

"My thumbs were tied together at my back, the right arm being put back over the shoulder and the left arm turned up from underneath. Then I was hung up by the cord that bound my thumbs. The agony was unendurable. I fainted, was taken down, was given torture, and when I came to was tortured again."

By the Court: "It would be impossible to hang you by your thumbs."

Prisoner: "My great toes scarcely touched the ground. Under such circumstances I was told to say the same thing at the Public Procurator's Office, and as I feared that I should be tortured there, too, I said 'Yes' to all questions."

Some variety was introduced into the treatment of Cho Tok-chan, a Presbyterian pastor, at Chong-ju.

"The police asked me how many men took part in the attempt at Sun-chon, saying that as I was a pastor I must know all about it. They hung, beat and struck me, saying that I had taken part in the plot and was a member of the New People's Society. At last I fainted, and afterwards was unable to eat for a number of days.

"A policeman in uniform, with one stripe, twisted my fingers with a wire, so that they were badly swollen for a long time after. Then a man with two white stripes tortured me, declaring that I had taken part in the Sun-chon affair. I said that I was too busy with Christmas preparations to go anywhere, on which the policeman severely twisted my fingers with an iron rod."

Again came one of the dramatic pauses, while the prisoner pointed out a Japanese official sitting behind the judges, Tanaka by name. "The man who interpreted at that time is sitting behind you," he declared. "He knows it very well."

They extracted his confession. But it was some time before he had been able to sign it; his fingers were hurt too severely.

It was necessary, after the police examination, for prisoners to repeat their stories or confirm them before the procurator. This might originally have been intended as a protection for the prisoners. In Korea police and procurators worked together. However, steps were taken to prevent any retraction at that point.

"When I was taken to the Public Procurator's Office," continued the Presbyterian pastor, "I did not know the nature of the place, and being put in a separate room, I feared that it might be an even more dreadful place than the police headquarters. Generally, when examined at the police headquarters, my hands were free, but here I was brought up for cross-examination with my hands and arms pinioned very firmly, so I thought it must be a harder place. Moreover, an official pulled me very hard by the cords which bound my hands, which gave me excruciating pain, seeing how they had already been treated by the police."

The next prisoner, Yi Mong-yong, a Presbyterian money lender, also pointed out the proud Tanaka. He had been describing how the police kicked and struck him to make him say what they wanted. "One of them is behind you now," said he to the judges, pointing to Tanaka.

Some of the prisoners broke down while giving their evidence. Unimas described how he had been hung, beaten, stripped and tortured by the police, and again tortured in the office of the Public Procurator. "Having got so far," the reports continue, "the prisoner began to weep and make a loud outcry, saying that he had a mother who was eighty years old at home. With this pitiful scene, the hearing ended for the day."

Yi Tai-kyong was a teacher. The police reminded him that the murderer of Prince Ito was a Christian; he was a Christian, therefore--

"They hung, beat and otherwise tormented me, until I was compelled to acknowledge all the false fabrication about the plot. The following day I was again taken into Mr. Yamana's room and again tortured with an iron rod from the stove and other things, until I had acknowledged all the false statements.

"When asked what was the party's signal, I remained silent, as I knew nothing about it. But I was tortured again, and said, 'the church bell,' that being the only thing I could think of at the time."

"I confessed to the whole prosecution story, but only as the result of torture, to which I was submitted nine times, fainting on two occasions, and being tortured again on revival," said Pak Chou-hyong. "I made my false confession under a threat that I and my whole family would be killed. I reiterated it at the Public Procurator's Office, where I was conducted by two policemen, one of them a man with a gold tooth, who boxed my ears so hard that I still feel the pain, and who told me not to vary my story.

"Fearing that my whole family would be tortured, I agreed. But when I arrived before the Public Procurator, I forgot what I had been taught to say, and wept, asking the officials to read what I had to confess. This they did, and I said, 'Yes, yes.'"

Choi Che-kiu, a petty trader, repudiated his confession of having gone with a party to Sun-chon.

"Had such a large party attempted to go to the station," he said, "they must infallibly have been arrested on the first day. Were I guilty I would be ready to die at once. The whole story was invented by officials, and I was obliged to acquiesce in it by severe torture. One night I was taken to Nanzan hill by two policemen, suspended from a pine tree and a sharp sword put to my throat. Thinking I was going to be killed, I consented to say 'Yes' to any question put to me."

"No force can make you tell such a story as this, unless you consent voluntarily," interposed the Court.

"You may well say that," replied the prisoner, grimly. "But with the blade of a sword in my face and a lighted cigarette pressed against my body, I preferred acquiescence in a story, which they told me that Kim Syong had already confessed, to death."

The prisoner paused, and the Judge looked at him with his head on one side. Suddenly the prisoner burst into a passion of weeping, with loud, incoherent cries.

In the previous trial one of the prisoners, Kim Ik-kyo, was asked why he admitted all the facts at his preliminary examination. "If the police were to go down Chong-no (one of the busiest streets in Seoul)," he replied, "and indiscriminately arrest a number of passers-by, and then examine them by putting them to torture, I am sure they would soon confess to having taken part in a plot."

The same thing was put in another way by a prisoner, Kim Eung-pong. He related a long story of torture by binding, hanging, beating and burning, continued for fifteen days, during which he was often threatened with death. Then he was taken to the "supreme enquiry" office of the police headquarters, where he was stripped naked and beaten with an iron bar from the stove. This office, he understood, had control and power of life or death over the whole peninsula, so he was compelled to confess all that they wanted. "I even would have said that I killed my father, if they put it to me," he added.

Hear the tale of An Sei-whan. As An was called up in the Appeal Court, a wave of pity passed over the white men there, for An was a miserable object, pale and emaciated. He was a consumptive and afflicted with other ills. He had been in the Christian Hospital at Pyeng-yang most of the winter, and had nearly died there. He had been walking a little for a few days, when he was arrested at the hospital in April. He had been vomiting blood.

"In this condition I was taken to the police headquarters and tortured. My thumbs were hung together and I was hung up, with my toes barely touching the ground. I was taken down nearly dead, and made to stand for hours under a chest nearly as high as my chest. Next day, when I was put under the shelf again my hair was fastened to the board, and my left leg doubled at the knee and tied. Blood came up from my lung, but fearful of the police I swallowed it. Now, I think it would have been better if I had vomited it. Then they might have had pity on me; but I did not think so then.

"Again I was hung up by the thumbs, clear of the floor this time. At the end of five minutes I was nearly dead. I asked if it would do to assent to their questions, and they took me down and took me before some superiors. When I said anything unsatisfactory I was beaten, and in this way learned what was wanted. I had no wish to deny or admit anything, only to escape further pain."

He asked that some of the missionaries who knew him might be called, to show that he was too ill to take part in any conspiracy.

One old man, Yi Chang-sik, a Presbyterian for sixteen years, had refused even under the torture to confess, and had tried to escape by suicide. "I thought that I had better commit suicide than be killed by their cruel tortures," he said. "They asked me if I had joined the conspiracy at the suggestion of Mr. McCune. I would not consent to this, so they tortured me harder. I was nearly naked, and so cold water was poured upon me. I was also beaten. Sometimes I would be tortured till the early hours of the morning.

"I longed for death to deliver me. Thanks to heaven, I found a knife one night in my room. The warder was not very careful with me. I took it secretly, intending to cut my throat--but my hand had become too weak. So I stuck it erect in the floor, and tried to cut my throat that way. Alas! At this moment the warder surprised me. When I had endured torture for over forty days, I asked them to make me guilty or innocent as quickly as possible. When I was taken to the Public Procurator's, I had pains in my ears, body and limbs. I could not stand the torture and wanted to die."

"Having got so far," wrote a spectator, "the old man broke down and began to weep, crying louder and louder. He said something as he wept, but the interpreter could not make out what it was. The Court evidently pitied him and told him to stand down. He withdrew, sobbing."

A Presbyterian student from Sun-chon, Cha Heui-syon, was arrested and kept for four months in the gendarmes office, becoming very weak. Then he was taken to the police headquarters.

"First I was hung up by my thumbs, then my hands and legs were tied, and I was made to crouch under a shelf about as high as my chest, which was intensely painful, as I could neither sit nor stand. Something was put in my mouth. I vomited blood, yet I was beaten. I was stood up on a bench and tied up so that when it was removed, I was left hanging. The interpreter who has often been in this court (Watanabe) tortured me. My arms stiffened so that I could not stretch them. As I hung I was beaten with bamboos three or four feet long and with an iron rod, which on one occasion made the hand of the official who was wielding it bleed."

At last he gave in. He was too weak to speak. They took him down and massaged his arms, which were useless. He could only nod now to the statements that they put to him. Later on they took him to the Public Procurator. Here he attempted to deny his confession. "The Public Procurator was very angry," he said. "He struck the table, getting up and sitting down again. He jerked the cord by which my hands were tied, hurting me very severely."

The case of Baron Yun Chi-ho excited special interest. The Baron being a noble of high family, the police used more care in extracting his confession. He was examined day after day for ten days, the same questions being asked and denied day after day. One day when his nerves were in shreds, they tortured another prisoner in front of his eyes, and the examiner told him that if he would not confess, he was likely to share the same fate. They told him that the others had confessed and been punished; a hundred men had admitted the facts. He did not know then that the charge against him was conspiracy to murder. He determined to make a false confession, to escape torture. He was worn out with the ceaseless questioning, and he was afraid.

The rehearing in the Court of Appeal lasted fifty-one days. In the last days many of the prisoners were allowed to speak for themselves. They made a very favourable impression. Judgment was delivered on March 20th. The original judgment was quashed in every case, and the cases reconsidered. Ninety-nine of the prisoners were found not guilty. Baron Yun Chi-ho, Yang Ki-tak and four others were convicted. Five of them were sentenced to six years' penal servitude, and one to five years. Two other appeals were made, but the only result was to increase the sentence of the sixth man to six years. Three of the men finally convicted had been members of the staff of the _Dai Han Mai Il Shinpo_. The Japanese do not forget or forgive readily. They had an old score to pay against the staff of that paper.

I have never yet met a man, English, American or Japanese, acquainted with the case, or who followed the circumstances, who believed that there had been any plot at all. The whole thing, from first to last, was entirely a police-created charge. The Japanese authorities showed later that they themselves did not believe it. On the coronation of the Japanese Emperor, in February, 1915, the six prisoners were released as a sign of "Imperial clemency." Baron Yun Chi-ho was appointed Secretary of the Y.M.C.A, at Seoul on his release, and Count Terauchi (whom he was supposed to have plotted to murder) thereupon gave a liberal subscription to the Y. funds.

There was one sequel to the case. The Secretary of the Korean Y.M.C.A., Mr. Gillett, having satisfied himself of the innocence of Baron Yun and his associates, while the trial was pending, sent a letter to prominent people abroad, telling the facts. The letter, by the indiscretion of one man who received it, was published in newspapers. The Japanese authorities, in consequence, succeeded in driving Mr. Gillett out of Korea. Before driving him out, they tried to get him to come over on their side. Mr. Komatsu, Director of the Bureau for Foreign Affairs, asked him and Mr. Gerdine, the President, to call on him. "The Government has met the demands of the missionary body and released ninety-nine out of the hundred and five prisoners who stood trial at the Appeal Court," said Mr. Komatsu. "It is to be expected that the missionary body will in return do something to put the Government in a strong and favourable light before the people of Japan." Mr. Komatsu added that Judge Suzuki's action was in reality the action of the Government-General, a quaint illustration of the independence of the judiciary in Korea.

The Administration made a feeble attempt to deny the tortures. Its argument was that since torture was forbidden by law, it could not take place. Let we quote the official statement:

"A word should be added in reference to the absurd rumours spread abroad concerning it (the conspiracy case) such as that the measures taken by the authorities aimed at 'wiping out the Christian movement in Korea,' since the majority of the accused were Christian converts, and that most of the accused made 'false confessions against their will,' as they were subject to 'unendurable ill-treatment or torture.' As if such imputations could be sustained for one minute, when the modern regime ruling Japan is considered!... As to torture, several provisions of the Korean criminal code indirectly recognized it, but the law was revised and those provisions were rescinded when the former Korean law courts were reformed, by appointing to them Japanese judicial staffs, in August, 1908.... According to the new criminal law (judges, procurators or police) officials are liable, if they treat accused prisoners with violence or torture, to penal servitude or to imprisonment for a period not exceeding three years. In reply to the memorial presented to the Governor-General by certain missionaries in Korea, in January, 1912, he said, 'I assure you that the entire examination of the suspected persons or witnesses is being conducted in strict compliance with the provisions of the law, and the slightest divergence from the lawful process will under no circumstances be permitted.' How then could any one imagine that it was possible for officials under him to act under any other way than in accordance with the provisions of the law."

Unfortunately for the noble indignation of the writer, the torture left its marks, and many men are living as I write still bearing them. Others only escaped from the hell of the Japanese prison in Seoul to die. They were so broken that they never recovered.

XIV

THE INDEPENDENCE MOVEMENT

The people of Korea never assented to the annexation of their country. The Japanese control of means of communication prevented their protests from being fully known by the outside world.

It was explained that the movement against the Japanese was due to the work of Koreans living outside of the land and to foreign agitators. The Japanese blamed the missionaries. They blamed foreign publicists. I understand that I was and am esteemed a special malignant. They never thought to blame themselves. As a matter of fact, missionaries and the rest of us had nothing to do with it. The real origin of the movement was among the people themselves, and it was fostered, not by outsiders, but by the iron and unjust rule of Japan.

At the same time, the Koreans living in freedom were naturally concerned over conditions at home. The large Korean communities in Manchuria and Siberia, estimated to number in all two millions, the flourishing colony in the United States and Hawaii, the Koreans in Mexico and China heard with indignation of what was happening. Young students and political prisoners released after torture, who escaped to America, fanned the flame to white heat. The Koreans living outside Korea formed a National Association, with headquarters in San Francisco, under the Presidency of Dr. David Lee, which in 1919 claimed a million and a half adherents.

The steps taken by the Japanese to suppress and prevent discontent often created and fostered it. This was specially illustrated in the schools. The new educational system, with its constant inculcation of loyalty to the Mikado, made even the little girls violently Nationalist. School children were spied upon for incipient treason as though the lisping of childish lips might overthrow the throne. The speeches of boys and girls in junior schools, at their school exercises, were carefully noted, and the child who said anything that might be construed by the Censor as "dangerous thought" would be arrested, examined and punished.

The effect of this was what might have been expected. "They compel us to learn Japanese," said one little miss, sagely. "That does not matter. We are now able to understand what they say. They cannot understand what we say. All the better for us when the hour comes." On Independence Day the children, particularly in the Government schools, were found to be banded together and organized against Japan. They had no fear in expressing their views and sought martyrdom. Some of them won it.

The Japanese hoped much from the Chon-do Kyo, a powerful movement encouraged by the authorities because they thought that it would be a valuable counteractive to Christianity. Its leader was Son Pyung-hi, an old Korean friend of Japan. As far back as 1894, when the Japanese arranged the Tong-hak Rebellion in Korea, to give them an excuse for provoking war with China, Son was one of their leading agents. He believed that Western influence and in particular Western religion was inimical to his country, and he hoped by the Tong-haks to drive them out.

As a result of his activities, he had to flee from Korea, and he did not return until 1903. He became leader of the Chon-do Kyo, the Heavenly Way Society, a body that tried to include the best of many religions and give the benefits of Christian organization and fellowship without Christianity. He had learned many things while in exile, and was now keen on reform and education. Many of his old Tong-hak friends rallied around him, and the Chon-do Kyo soon numbered considerably over a million members.

Son realized after a time that the Japanese were not the friends but the enemies of his people. He made no violent protestations. He still maintained seemingly good relations with them. But his organization was put to work. His agents went over the country. Each adherent was called on to give three spoonfuls of rice a day. Close on a million dollars was accumulated. Most of this was afterwards seized by the Japanese.

The Chon-do Kyo and the native Christian leaders came together. The Christian pastors had up to now kept their people in check. But the burden was becoming intolerable. They gave the missionaries no inkling of what was brewing. They did not wish to get them in trouble. Their real grief was that their action would, they knew, make it harder for the Churches.

Two remarkable characters took the lead among the Christians, Pastor Kil and Yi Sang-jai. Pastor Kil of Pyeng-yang was one of the oldest and most famous Christians in Korea. He had become a leader in the early days, facing death for his faith. A man of powerful brain, of fine character and with the qualities of real leadership, he was looked up to by the people as British Nonconformists a generation ago regarded Charles Spurgeon. In recent years Kil had become almost blind, but continued his work.

I have already described in an earlier chapter how Yi Sang-jai, once Secretary to the Legation at Washington, became a Christian while thrown into prison for his political views. He was now a Y.M.C.A. leader, but he was held in universal veneration by all men--Christian and non-Christian alike--as a saint, as a man who walked with God and communed with Him.

When things seemed rapidly ripening, President Wilson made his famous declaration of the rights of weaker nations. One sentence went round among the Koreans, and its effect was electrical.

"What is the task that this League of Nations is to do?

"IT IS TO PROVIDE FOR THE FREEDOM OF SMALL NATIONS, TO PREVENT THE DOMINATION OF SMALL NATIONS BY BIG ONES."

Here was the clarion call to Korea. Here was hope! Here was the promise of freedom, given by the head of the nation they had all learned to love. If any outsider was responsible for the uprising of the Korean people, that outsider was Woodrow Wilson, President of the United States of America.

"Now is the time to act," said the people. For a start, they resolved to send delegates to present their case to the Paris Conference. Three leaders in America were chosen but were refused passports. Finally another young leader, Mr. Kiusic Kimm, succeeded in landing in France. Perhaps it would not be wise to say, at this time, how he managed to get there. He soon found that his mission was in vain. The Paris Conference would not receive him. President Wilson's declaration was not to be put into full effect.

The people resolved, by open and orderly demonstration, to support their delegate in France. There were some who would have started a violent revolution. The Christians would have none of it "Let us have no violence," said they. "Let us appeal to the conscience of Japan and of the world."

There were no constitutional means for them to employ to make their case heard. But if ever there was an effort at peaceful constitutional change, this was it. Instructions were sent out, surely the most extraordinary instructions ever issued under similar circumstances:--

"Whatever you do
DO NOT INSULT THE JAPANESE
DO NOT THROW STONES
DO NOT HIT WITH YOUR FISTS.
For these are the acts of barbarians."

It was unnecessary to tell the people not to shoot, for the Japanese had long since taken all their weapons away, even their ancient sporting blunderbusses.

A favourable moment was approaching. The old Korean Emperor lay dead. One rumour was that he had committed suicide to avoid signing a document drawn up by the Japanese for presentation to the Peace Conference, saying that he was well satisfied with the present Government of his country. Another report, still more generally believed, was that he had committed suicide to prevent the marriage of his son, Prince Kon, to the Japanese Princess Nashinoto. The engagement of this young Prince to a Korean girl had been broken off when the Japanese acquired control of the Imperial House. Royal romances always appeal to the crowd. The heart of the people turned to the old Emperor again. Men, women and children put on straw shoes, signs of national mourning, and a hundred thousand people flocked to Seoul to witness the funeral ceremonies.

The funeral was to take place on March 4th. By now the Japanese suspected something to be afoot. The astonishing thing is that the Koreans had been able to keep it from them so long. A network of organizations had been created all over the country. The Japanese hurried their preparations to prevent popular demonstrations on the day of the funeral. The leaders learned of this, and outwitted the police by a simple device. They resolved to make their demonstration not on Tuesday, March 4th, but on the previous Saturday.

Gatherings were arranged for all over the country. A Declaration of Independence was drawn up in advance and delivered to the different centres. Here it was mimeographed, and girls and boys organized themselves to ensure its distribution. Meetings, processions and demonstrations in all the big cities were planned.

Thirty-three men chose martyrdom. They were to be the original signers of the Declaration of Independence. They knew that at the best this must mean heavy punishment for them, and at the worst might well mean death. They had no delusions. Pastor Kil's son had died from the effects of Japanese torture, Yang Chun-paik and Yi Seung-hun, two of the signers, had been victims in the Conspiracy case. The first two names on the list of signers were Son Pyung-hi, leader of the Chon-do Kyo, and Pastor Kil.

On the morning of March 1st the group of thirty-two met at the Pagoda Restaurant at Seoul. Pastor Kil was the only absentee; he had been temporarily delayed on his journey from Pyeng-yang.

Some prominent Japanese had been invited to eat with the Koreans. After the meal, the Declaration was produced before their guests and read. It was despatched to the Governor-General. Then the signers rang up the Central Police Station, informed the shocked officials of what they had done, and added that they would wait in the restaurant until the police van came to arrest them.

The automobile prison van, with them inside, had to make its way to the police station through dense crowds, cheering and shouting, "Mansei! Mansei! Mansei!" It was the old national battle cry, "May Korea live ten thousand years." Old flags had been brought out, old Korean flags, with the red and blue germ on the white ground, and were being widely waved. "Mansei!" Not only Seoul but the whole country had in a few minutes broken out in open demonstration. A new kind of revolt had begun.

Pastor Kil, arriving late, hurried to the police station to take his place with his comrades.

The Declaration of Independence is a document impossible to summarize, if one is to do full justice to it. It is written in the lofty tone of the ancient prophets. It was something more than the aspiration of the Korean people. It was the cry of the New Asia, struggling to find its way out of oppression and mediaeval militarism into the promised land of liberty and peace.

THE PROCLAMATION OF KOREAN INDEPENDENCE

"We herewith proclaim the independence of Korea and the liberty
of the Korean people. We tell it to the world in witness of the
equality of all nations and we pass it on to our posterity as
their inherent right.

"We make this proclamation, having back of us 5,000 years of
history, and 20,000,000 of a united loyal people. We take this
step to insure to our children for all time to come, personal
liberty in accord with the awakening consciousness of this new
era. This is the clear leading of God, the moving principle of
the present age, the whole human race's just claim. It is
something that cannot be stamped out, or stifled, or gagged, or
suppressed by any means.

"Victims of an older age, when brute force and the spirit of
plunder ruled, we have come after these long thousands of years
to experience the agony of ten years of foreign oppression, with
every loss to the right to live, every restriction of the freedom
of thought, every damage done to the dignity of life, every
opportunity lost for a share in the intelligent advance of the
age in which we live.

"Assuredly, if the defects of the past are to be rectified, if
the agony of the present is to be unloosed, if the future
oppression is to be avoided, if thought is to be set free, if
right of action is to be given a place, if we are to attain to
any way of progress, if we are to deliver our children from the
painful, shameful heritage, if we are to leave blessing and
happiness intact for those who succeed us, the first of all
necessary things is the clear-cut independence of our people.
What cannot our twenty millions do, every man with sword in
heart, in this day when human nature and conscience are making a
stand for truth and right? What barrier can we not break, what
purpose can we not accomplish?

"We have no desire to accuse Japan of breaking many solemn
treaties since 1636, nor to single out specially the teachers in
the schools or government officials who treat the heritage of our
ancestors as a colony of their own, and our people and their
civilization as a nation of savages, finding delight only in
beating us down and bringing us under their heel.

"We have no wish to find special fault with Japan's lack of
fairness or her contempt of our civilization and the principles
on which her state rests; we, who have greater cause to reprimand
ourselves, need not spend precious time in finding fault with
others; neither need we, who require so urgently to build for the
future, spend useless hours over what is past and gone. Our
urgent need to-day is the setting up of this house of ours and
not a discussion of who has broken it down, or what has caused
its ruin. Our work is to clear the future of defects in accord
with the earnest dictates of conscience. Let us not be filled
with bitterness or resentment over past agonies or past occasions
for anger.

"Our part is to influence the Japanese government, dominated as
it is by the old idea of brute force which thinks to run counter
to reason and universal law, so that it will change, act honestly
and in accord with the principles of right and truth.

"The result of annexation, brought about without any conference
with the Korean people, is that the Japanese, indifferent to us,
use every kind of partiality for their own, and by a false set of
figures show a profit and loss account between us two peoples
most untrue, digging a trench of everlasting resentment deeper
and deeper the farther they go.

"Ought not the way of enlightened courage to be to correct the
evils of the past by ways that are sincere, and by true sympathy
and friendly feeling make a new world in which the two peoples
will be equally blessed?

"To bind by force twenty millions of resentful Koreans will mean
not only loss of peace forever for this part of the Far East, but
also will increase the evergrowing suspicion of four hundred
millions of Chinese--upon whom depends the danger or safety of
the Far East--besides strengthening the hatred of Japan. From
this all the rest of the East will suffer. To-day Korean
independence will mean not only daily life and happiness for us,
but also it would mean Japan's departure from an evil way and
exaltation to the place of true protector of the East, so that
China, too, even in her dreams, would put all fear of Japan
aside. This thought comes from no minor resentment, but from a
large hope for the future welfare and blessing of mankind.

"A new era wakes before our eyes, the old world of force is gone,
and the new world of righteousness and truth is here. Out of the
experience and travail of the old world arises this light on
life's affairs. The insects stifled by the foe and snow of winter
awake at this same time with the breezes of spring and the soft
light of the sun upon them.

"It is the day of the restoration of all things on the full tide
of which we set forth, without delay or fear. We desire a full
measure of satisfaction in the way of liberty and the pursuit of
happiness, and an opportunity to develop what is in us for the
glory of our people.

"We awake now from the old world with its darkened conditions in
full determination and one heart and one mind, with right on our
side, along with the forces of nature, to a new life. May all the
ancestors to the thousands and ten thousand generations aid us
from within and all the force of the world aid us from without,
and let the day we take hold be the day of our attainment. In
this hope we go forward.

THREE ITEMS OF AGREEMENT

"1. This work of ours is in behalf of truth, religion and life,
undertaken at the request of our people, in order to make known
their desire for liberty. Let no violence be done to any one.

"2. Let those who follow us, every man, all the time, every hour,
show forth with gladness this same mind.

"3. Let all things be done decently and in order, so that our
behaviour to the very end may be honourable and upright."

The 4252nd year of the Kingdom of Korea 3d Month.

Representatives of the people.

The signatures attached to the document are:

Son Pyung-hi, Kil Sun Chu, Yi Pil Chu, Paik Yong Sung, Kim Won
Kyu, Kim Pyung Cho, Kim Chang Choon, Kwon Dong Chin, Kwon Byung
Duk, Na Yong Whan, Na In Hup, Yang Chun Paik, Yang Han Mook, Lew
Yer Dai, Yi Kop Sung, Yi Mung Yong, Yi Seung Hoon, Yi Chong Hoon,
Yi Chong Il, Lim Yei Whan, Pak Choon Seung, Pak Hi Do, Pak Tong
Wan, Sin Hong Sik, Sin Suk Ku, Oh Sei Chang, Oh Wha Young, Chung
Choon Su, Choi Sung Mo, Choi In, Han Yong Woon, Hong Byung Ki,
Hong Ki Cho.

XV

THE PEOPLE SPEAK--THE TYRANTS ANSWER

On Saturday, March 1st, at two in the afternoon, in a large number of centres of population throughout the country, the Declaration of Korean Independence was solemnly read, usually to large assemblies, by representative citizens. In some places, the leaders of the Christians and the leaders of the non-Christian bodies acted in common. In other places, by mutual agreement, two gatherings were held at the same time, the one for Christians and the other for non-Christians. Then the two met in the streets, and sometimes headed by a band they marched down the street shouting "Mansei" until they were dispersed. Every detail had been thought out. Large numbers of copies of declarations of independence were ready. These were circulated, usually by boys and schoolgirls, sometimes by women, each city being mapped out in districts.

It was soon seen that every class of the community was united. Men who had been ennobled by the Japanese stood with the coolies; shopkeepers closed their stores, policemen who had worked under the Japanese took off their uniforms and joined the crowds, porters and labourers, scholars and preachers, men and women all came together.

In every other Korean demonstration, for untold centuries, only part of the nation had been included. When the yang-bans started a political revolt, in the old days, they did not recognize that such a thing as popular opinion existed and did not trouble to consult it. Korea had long known demonstrations of great family against great family, of Yis against Mins; of section against section, as when the Conservatives fought the Progressives; and of Independents against the old Court Gang. But now all were one. And with the men were the women, and even the children. Boys of six told their fathers to be firm and never to yield, as they were carried off to prison; girls of ten and twelve prepared themselves to go to jail.

The movement was a demonstration, not a riot. On the opening day and afterwards--until the Japanese drove some of the people to fury--there was no violence. The Japanese, scattered all over the country, were uninjured; the Japanese shops were left alone; when the police attacked, elders ordered the people to submit and to offer no resistance. The weak things had set themselves up to confound the strong.

At first, the Japanese authorities were so completely taken by surprise that they did not know what to do. Then the word was passed round that the movement was to be suppressed by relentless severity. And so Japan lost her last chance of winning the people of Korea and of wiping out the accentuated ill-will of centuries.

The first plan of the Japanese was to attack every gathering of people and disperse it, and to arrest every person who took part in the demonstrations or was supposed to have a hand in them. Japanese civilians were armed with clubs and swords and given _carte blanche_ to attack any Korean they suspected of being a demonstrator. They interpreted these instructions freely. Firemen were sent out with poles with the big firemen's hooks at the end. A single pull with one of these hooks meant death or horrible mutilation for any person they struck.

The police used their swords freely. What I mean by "freely" can best be shown by one incident A little gathering of men started shouting "Mansei" in a street in Seoul. The police came after them, and they vanished. One man--it is not clear whether he called "Mansei" or was an accidental spectator--was pushed in the deep gutter by the roadside as the demonstrators rushed away. As he struggled out the police came up. There was no question of the man resisting or not resisting. He was unarmed and alone. They cut off his ears, cut them off level with his cheek, they slit up his fingers, they hacked his body, and then they left him for dead. He was carried off by some horrified spectators, and died a few hours later. A photograph of his body lies before me as I write. I showed the photograph one evening to two or three men in New York City. Next day I met the men again. "We had nightmare all night long, because of that picture," they told me.

In Seoul, when the thirty-three leaders were arrested, a demonstration was held in the Park and the Declaration read there. Then the crowd made an orderly demonstration in the streets, waving flags and hats, shouting "Mansei," parading in front of the Consulates and public buildings, and sending letters to the Consuls informing them of what they had done. There was no violence. The police, mounted and foot, tried to disperse the crowds and made numerous arrests, but the throngs were so dense that they could not scatter them.

Next day was Sunday. Here the strong Christian influences stopped demonstrations, for the Korean Christians observe the Sunday strictly. This gave the Japanese authorities time to gather their forces. Numerous arrests were made that day, not only in Seoul but all over the country. On Monday there was the funeral of the ex-Emperor. The people were quiet then. It was noticed that the school children were entirely absent from their places along the line of march. They had struck.

On Wednesday life was supposed to resume its normal aspects again. The schools reopened, but there were no pupils. The shops remained closed. The coolies in official employ did not come to work. The authorities sent police to order the shopkeepers to open. They opened while the police were by, and closed immediately they were out of sight. Finally troops were placed outside the shops to see that they remained open. The shopkeepers sat passive, and informed any chance enquirer that they did not have what he wanted. This continued for some weeks.

The authorities were specially disturbed by the refusal of the children to come to school. In one large junior school, the boys were implored to come for their Commencement exercises, and to receive their certificates. Let me tell the scene that followed, as described to me by people in the city. The boys apparently yielded, and the Commencement ceremonies were begun, in the presence of a number of official and other distinguished Japanese guests. The precious certificates were handed out to each lad. Then the head boy, a little fellow of about twelve or thirteen, came to the front to make the school speech of thanks to his teachers and to the authorities. He was the impersonation of courtesy. Every bow was given to the full; he lingered over the honorifics, as though he loved the sound of them. The distinguished guests were delighted. Then came the end. "I have only this now to say," the lad concluded. A change came over his voice. He straightened himself up, and there was a look of resolution in his eyes. He knew that the cry he was about to utter had brought death to many during the past few days. "We beg one thing more of you." He plunged one hand in his garment, pulled out the Korean flag, the possession of which is a crime. Waving the flag, he cried out, "Give us back our country. May Korea live forever. Mansei!"

All the boys jumped up from their seats, each one pulling out a flag from under his coat and waved it, calling, "Mansei! Mansei! Mansei!" They tore up their precious certificates, in front of the now horrified guests, threw them on the ground, and trooped out.

At nine o'clock that Wednesday morning there was a great demonstration of students and high school girls around the palace. The girls had planned out their part ahead. A big crowd gathered around. Then a large force of police rushed on them, with drawn swords, knocking down, beating and arresting, lads and girls alike. The girls were treated as roughly as the men. Over four hundred, including one hundred girl students, were taken to the police station that morning. What happened to the girls there, I tell in a later chapter. Fifteen nurse-probationers of the Severance Hospital, one of the most famous missionary hospitals in the Far East, hurried out with bandages to bind up the wounded. The police took them in custody also. They were severely examined, to find if the foreigners had instigated them to take part in the demonstrations, but were released the same afternoon.

As Prince Yi was returning from the ex-Emperor's funeral that afternoon, a group of twenty literati approached his carriage and attempted to present a petition. They were stopped by the police. A petition was sent by the literati to the Governor-General; the delegates were told to take it to the police office. Here they were arrested.

Two of the most famous nobles in the land, Viscount Kim and Viscount Li, sent a dignified petition to the Governor-General, begging him to listen to the people, and deploring the severe measures taken to suppress the demonstrations. Viscount Kim was senior peer, head of the Confucian College, and had ever been a friend of Japan. As far back as 1866, he had run the risk of death by urging the King to open the country to outside nations and to conclude a treaty with Japan. The Japanese had made him one of their new Korean peerage. He was now eighty-five, feeble and bedridden. The protest of himself and his fellow senior was measured, polished, moved with a deep sympathy for the people, but with nothing in it to which the Governor-General should have taken offence.

The Japanese treatment of these two nobles was crowning proof of their incapacity to rule another people. The two were at once arrested, and with them various male members of their families. Kim was so ill that he could not be immediately moved, so a guard was placed over his house. All were brought to trial at Seoul in July. With Viscount Kim were Kim Ki-ju, his grandson, and Kim Yu-mon. With Viscount Li was his relative Li Ken-tai. The charge against them was, of violating the Peace Preservation Act. Ki-ju aggravated his position by trying to defend himself. The Japanese press reported that he was reported to "have assumed a very hostile attitude to the bench enunciating this theory and that in defence of his cause." This statement is the best condemnation of the trial. Where a prisoner is deemed to add to his guilt by attempting to defend himself, justice has disappeared.

Viscount Kim was sentenced to two years' penal servitude, and Viscount Li to eighteen months, both sentences being stayed for three years. Kim Ki-ju, Kim Yu-mon and Li Ken-tai were sentenced to hard labour for eighteen months, twelve months and six months respectively. The sentence reflected disgrace on the Government that instituted the prosecution and decreed the punishment.