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| Yun Chi-ho is pictured standing next to his father in the 1900s. / Robert Neff collection |
By Robert Neff
On Jan. 21, 1919, a cold Tuesday morning, rumors spread quickly through the streets of Seoul that ex-Emperor Gojong had died at dawn. His death came as a complete surprise because he had been in relatively good health. Many did not believe it was true and there were conflicting reports.
The Maeil Shinpo reported he was seriously ill but still alive. The crown prince, who was due to marry Princess Masako on Jan. 28, was summoned back to Korea.
Yun Chi-ho, a Korean official and activist, provided a powerful eyewitness account ― not to the ex-emperor's death, but the uncertainty and chaos that followed ― in his diaries.
On Jan. 22, the ex-emperor's death was formally announced and Yun reported that "Koreans ― especially those of older ages ― seem to be much affected." They gathered for days in front of Deoksu Palace, where Yun observed "thousands of mourners, old and young, men and women, [prostrated], themselves on the ground wailing in sincere grief."
Often Yun's observations were contradictory and bitter ― even pro-Japanese, which would come to haunt him in his later years. He claimed the people were not crying so much for the loss of their former emperor but because his death was "the symbol of the final extinction of Korean autonomy…. One tear for him and two tears for themselves."
As the days passed, rumors and conspiracies were heard everywhere. Some claimed Gojong had committed suicide because he could not bear his son marrying a Japanese princess. The wedding was subsequently postponed due to his death.
Others were much darker ― whispers of assassination by poison. Posters were placed here and there insinuating the Japanese had murdered Gojong. They were probably ripped down by the Japanese authorities just as soon as they went up.
On Feb. 11, an official visited Yun and claimed the ex-emperor died about an hour after drinking from a cup of sweet rice wine. He was gripped with severe stomach pains which left him paralyzed. His fingers were clinched so tightly into a fist that an attending eunuch had to forcibly straighten them out.
This would not be the last time Yun heard rumors Gojong was assassinated. Nearly a year later, he was informed the attendants preparing Gojong's corpse were shocked at its condition. His clothing had to be cut off because of his grotesquely swollen limbs, his teeth had fallen out of their sockets and there was a black mark extending from his throat to his stomach. These observations, as well as others, have lead some Korean scholars to speculate Gojong was poisoned.
Koreans were not the only ones talking about poison. On Feb. 12, Yun traveled to Pyeongtaek by train he overheard a conversation between a Japanese couple seated next to him.
"Among what she said I was amused or interested to hear that coral bead is used to detect poison in food, that even now a coral bead is employed to test every dish of food to be taken by the imperial Majesties…"
When Yun returned to Seoul in the third week of February, he heard students were planning to cause disturbances during Gojong's funeral with bombs. "The plotters know that they will gain no immediate benefit from the movement, but they believe it will help Korea by showing the International Assembly now in Paris that the Korean people are not contented with the Japanese regime."
As the date for the funeral neared, things in Seoul became more hectic. On Feb. 27 he wrote: "The streets are thronged with men and women from the country ― to see the Funeral procession."
The following day was the funeral's rehearsal and "all the windows facing the street were taken possession of by parties of women sightseers." Yun's Christian beliefs may have influenced him to write: "The rituals and dresses used in the Funeral Ceremonies are picturesque but childish."
March 1 was a Saturday and the weather was beautiful as Yun made his way to his office in the YMCA building. In the afternoon, police searched the building for documents but found nothing. Shortly after they left, he and his assistant heard a great commotion.
"Looking out through the windows we saw the street full of students and others running toward the Bell Square shouting Mansei. The boys waved caps and [handkerchiefs]. The pitiful sight of these simple youths running voluntarily into certain dangers in the name of patriotism brought tears to my eyes."
The demonstrators were soon set upon by Japanese soldiers, mounted police, detectives and gendarmes ― the leaders were arrested and taken away.
Yun would later add to his diary:
"The Ex-Emperor of Korea, whose sudden death has proved to be a cue to the great disturbance, used to have one simple word to send any man to prison. That was the word, 'Pro-Japanese.' The Japanese in Korea has one convenient word to make anybody miserable. That word is: 'Anti-Japanese.'"
The March First Independence Movement had begun.
