It was not the sincerity of Marquis Ito, however, which made most impression upon the leading people of Seoul; it was rather the qualities of patience, pity, and gentleness. Such are, indeed, not usually the mental attitudes of the diplomat or politician toward those who are intriguing, or otherwise actively endeavoring to defeat his cherished plans. It should not be forgotten that less than a year before, during the absence of the Resident-General, a plot had been formed which involved his assassination; and that this plot had been traced to those who had the _entrée_ of the Palace, in despite of their well-known bad character, and some of whom were the recognized Korean associates of the men whose “services” to the Korean Emperor terminated in the commission to the Peace Conference at The Hague. Of those Korean officials who were most opposed to the Japanese Protectorate, the Marquis was ready to say that he sympathized with them in their desire for the perfect independence of their country; nor did he blame them for their struggles to bring about this result so long as their way was free from lying, robbery, and murder. But the witness of history he regarded as unimpeachable proof of the incapacity of the Korean ruling classes to lift up, or to rule well their own country; unaided, they could never effect the reformation of existing industrial and social evils. Japan, the Far East, and the interests of the civilized world forbade their being longer permitted to disturb the peaceful relations of foreign nations. In this connection the Marquis once spoke of the difficulty which he experienced in preventing his own countrymen from themselves degenerating in character under the morally depressing influences of Korea. These influences had, in his judgment, been more or less effective in the case of most foreigners—diplomats and missionaries included—who had lived for a long time in Seoul. “I tell them,” said he, “you must not become Koreans; you are here to raise the Koreans up, and you cannot do this if you sink down to their level.” At a small dinner party, at the house of one of the foreign consuls, the Resident-General spoke more freely than is his custom about his own early life, his observations during his several trips abroad in America, Europe, and Russia, and the ideals which had guided his official career. In this connection, with reference to his present work in Korea, he referred to the expressions of surprise from some of his foreign colleagues, that he could endure so calmly the ways of the Koreans toward him and toward his administrative efforts; but “in truth,” he added, “I have no feelings of anger toward these people; they are so ignorant, they have been so long deprived of all honest and enlightened government, they are so poor and miserable, I am not angry with them. I pity them.”