Kim and the Japanese Secretary called in their allies, to discuss how to strike. One scheme proposed was that they should send two men, disguised as Chinese, to kill two of the Ministers they had marked as their victims. Then they would charge the other Ministers with the deed and kill them. Thus they would get rid of all their enemies at a blow. A second plan was that Kim should invite the Ministers to the fine new house he had built, should entertain them and then kill them. Unfortunately for Kim, the Ministers were not willing to come to his house. He had invited them all to a grand banquet shortly before, and only a few had accepted.
"Make haste!" urged Shumamura. "Japan is ready for anything." At last some one hit on a happy scheme. Twenty-two young Koreans had been sent to Japan to learn modern military ways, and had studied at the Toyama Military School at Tokyo. Returning home, they had given an exhibition of their physical drill and fencing before the King, who was as delighted with them as a child with a new toy. He had declared that he would have all his army trained this way. The leader of the students, So Jai-pil, nephew of one of the King's favourite generals, was made a Colonel of the Palace Guard, although only seventeen years old. But despite the King, the old military leaders, whose one idea of martial ardour was to be carried around from one point to another surrounded with bearers and warriors who made a loud noise to impress the crowd, shuddered at the idea of reform, and managed to block it. The students were kicking their heels idly around the palace. Here were the very lads for the job. Appeal to their patriotism. Let them do the killing, and their seniors take the glory. And so it was decided.
The Japanese were talking so boastingly that it would be surprising if the Chinese had learned nothing. At the head of the Chinese troops was Yuan Shih-kai, afterwards to prove himself the strongest man in the Middle Kingdom and to overthrow the Manchu dynasty. He said nothing, but it does not follow that he did nothing. At a dinner given to the Foreign Representatives, the Interpreter to the Japanese Legation delivered a speech in Korean on the shameless unscrupulousness and cowardice of the Chinese. He even went so far as to call them "sea slugs," giving a malicious glance at the Chinese Consul-General while he spoke. The Chinese official did not know Korean, but he could understand enough of the speech to follow its import.
The plans were now complete. Every victim had two assassins assigned to him. The occasion was to be the opening of the new post-office, when Hong Yung-sik would give an official banquet to which all must come. During the dinner, the detached palace was to be set on fire, a call was to be raised that the King was in danger, and the reactionary Ministers were to be killed as they rushed to his help. Two of the students were appointed sentries, two were to set fire to the palace, one group was to wait at the Golden Gate for other members of the Government who tried to escape that way. Four young Japanese, including one from the Legation, were to act as a reserve guard, to complete the killing in case the Koreans failed. The Commander of the Palace Guard, a strong sympathizer, posted his men in such a way as to give the conspirators a free hand. The Japanese Minister promised that his soldiers would be ready to cooperate at the right time.
On the afternoon of December 4th, the Japanese Legation people busied themselves with fetching ammunition and provisions from the barracks. In the afternoon a detachment of soldiers came over. They knew that the deed was to be done that night.
The dinner was held, according to plan. It was a singularly harmonious gathering—up to a point. Many were the jokes and pointed was the wit. The gesang (geisha), spurred by the merriment of their lords, did more than ever to amuse the guests. The drink was not stinted.
Then there came a call of "Fire!" It was the duty of Min Yung-ik, as General Commanding the right Guard Regiment, to keep the custody of the fire apparatus. Deploring his rough luck in being called to duty at such a time, he left the hall and, surrounded by his braves and attendants, who were waiting for him in the anteroom, made his way to his yungmun, or official residence. When he was near the post-office five young men, armed with sharp swords, suddenly broke through his guard, killed one of the soldiers and attacked the Minister. "He received seven sword slashes, all great ones, two all but taking his head off," wrote a contemporary chronicler. He staggered back into the banqueting hall, blood pouring from him. There was at once great confusion. The Ministers not in the plot, fearing that some ill was intended against them, threw away their hats of state, turned their coats, and concealed themselves amongst their coolies. Fortunately for Min, just as the palace doctors were about to attempt to stop his wounds by pouring boiling wax on them, a modern surgeon came hurrying up. He was Dr. Allen, an American Presbyterian missionary, the first to arrive in Korea. He did such good work on his patient that night that King and Court became friends of the missionaries for ever on.
Leaving the banqueting hall, Pak Yung-kyo and his companions at once hurried to the palace, informed the King that a Great Event had happened, and told him that he and the Queen must go with them for their safety. They took him to the Tai Palace, near at hand. Here they were at once surrounded by the Japanese troops, by the students, and some 800 Korean soldiers, under General Han Kiu-chik, who commanded one of the four regiments of the Palace Guard.
The King and Queen were of course accompanied by their own attendants. The Chief Eunuch, who was among them, took General Han on one side. "This is a very serious matter," he urged. "Let us send for General Yuan and the Chinese." General Han apparently weakened and agreed. There was no weakening on the part of the students. The Chief Eunuch and the General were "one by one withdrawn from the King's presence" and when outside were promptly despatched. Then the King was bidden to write notes to his chief anti-Progressive Ministers, summoning them to his presence. As they arrived, "one by one, each in his turn, was despatched by the students and his body thrown aside."
The King called for the Japanese Minister. At first he would not come. Finally he appeared. He had arranged that most of the work was to be done without his presence, in order to avoid diplomatic trouble. A number of edicts had been drawn up which the King was obliged to sign. All kinds of reforms were commanded, and the land was made on paper, in an hour, into a modern state. The reformers did not forget their own interests. Hong Yung-sik, the Postmaster General, was made Prime Minister, Kim Ok-kiun was made second officer of the Royal Treasury, and the lad So Jai-pil, on whom the chief command of the students and Korean soldiers now devolved, was made General Commanding a Guard Regiment.
In answer to his urgent entreaties, the King was allowed next morning to return to his palace, the Japanese and the Progressives accompanying him. It was soon clear, even to the reformers, that they had gone too far. As news of the affair became known, the people made their sentiments felt in unmistakable fashion. Odd Japanese in the streets were killed, others made their way to the Legation and shut themselves in there, while the Japanese Minister and the Progressives were hemmed in the palace by an angry mob.
They were short of ammunition. The Japanese had twenty-five rounds a man, the twenty-two students had fifteen rounds apiece, and the eight hundred Korean soldiers either had none or destroyed what they had. There was plenty in the Legation but the mob barred the way. General So Jai-pil (to give him his new title) was on the move day and night, going from outpost to outpost, threatening and encouraging weaklings, and arranging and inspiring his men.
The affair started on the evening of December 4th; the reformers remained in the palace until the afternoon of December 7th. Then General Yuan Shih-kai, the Chinese leader, approached the palace gates and sent in his card, demanding admission. The Queen had already smuggled a message out to him begging his aid. The Japanese soldiers on guard refused to allow him to enter. He gave warning that he would attack. He had 2,000 Chinese troops and behind them were fully 3,000 Korean soldiers and the mass of the population.
Takezoi weakened. He did not want to risk an engagement with the Chinese, and he declared that he would withdraw his Guard, and take them back to his Legation. Young General So drew his sword threateningly, and told him that they must stay and see it through. The Japanese captain in command of the troops was as eager for a fight as was So, and the Minister was for the time overruled.
A great fight followed. The Chinese sought to outflank the reformers, and to force an entry by climbing over the walls. One of the personal attendants of the King