Chapter VI.

The king moves to Kang-wha.... a slave rebellion.... Mongol anger....

second invasion.... Mongol charges.... popular insurrections....

palace building.... the north occupied by Mongols.... Mongols not

good seamen.... suffering and distress.... nature of Mongol

occupation.... diplomacy.... temporary peace.... Gayuk Khan....

Mangu Khan.... efforts to get the king out of Kang-wha.... great

invasion of 1253.... an urgent letter.... king decides not to

remove.... great fortress falls.... impossible demands.... siege of

Ch‘un-ch‘ŭn.... Ya Gol-dă meets the king.... the king promises to

return to the capital.... a ferocious governor-general.... exchequer

depleted.... Cha Ra-dă before Kang-wha.... a beautiful reply.... a

new viceroy.... succession of disasters.... viceroy overthrown....

Mongol ravages.... the north defenseless.

That neither the Koryŭ king nor any of the officials believed that the

end of the trouble had come is evident. No sooner had the tumult of war

subsided than the question arose in the Koryŭ councils as to the moving

of the court. Some objections were made, but Choe U silenced them by

killing off a few of the objectors. As for the king, he could not make

up his mind to go; but the viceroy showed no hesitation. Seizing the

government carts he loaded his household effects upon them and moved to

the island of Kang-wha. He also urged the people to do likewise, and put

up placards threatening with death anyone who should speak against

removing. Meanwhile the people throughout the country were rising in

revolt against the Mongol governors and were driving them out. This was

sure to call down upon the troubled land another invasion, and the king

at last made up his mind to follow the example of his viceroy and move

to Kang-wha. A palace had been prepared for him there and on the

appointed day a start was made from the capital. It happened to be in

the midst of the rainy season when the roads are well-nigh impassable.

The whole cavalcade soon found itself mired, and torrents of rain added

materially to the discomfort. Even ladies of noble rank were seen wading

with bared limbs in the mud and carrying bundles on their heads. The

wailing and crying of this forlorn multitude was audible for a long

distance. Gen. Kim Chung-gwi was left to guard the capital. When the

king at last arrived on the island he found that the palace was not

ready for occupancy and he was obliged to live in a common house while

the officials shifted for themselves. Messengers were immediately sent

in all directions ordering the people to leave the mainland and seek

refuge on the islands.

The common people in Song-do were in utter confusion. Anarchy stared

them in the face. A slave by the name of Yi T‘ong gathered about him a

band of slaves and raised an insurrection. The general who had been

placed in charge was driven out, the monks were summoned to help in the

sack of the town and all the government buildings were soon looted. It

is hardly complimentary to Buddhism that her monks were invited by this

seditious rabble to help in these lawless acts but it is probably a true

picture of the times. When this came to the ears of the king he sent

Gen. Yi Cha-sung to put down the insurrection. The slaves barricaded the

road but the general dispersed them and at night gained admittance to

the city by feigning to be a deserter. Once within, he caught the slave

leader Yi T‘ong and the rest soon dispersed.

When the news of this exodus from the capital and the driving out of the

Mongol governors reached the Mongol capital is caused a sensation. The

emperor, in a white heat, sent a messenger post-haste to Song-do and

behind him came a powerful army. The demand was “Why have you changed

the capital? Why have our people been driven out?” The king replied that

the capital was changed because all the people were running away, but he

affirmed that although he had removed to Kang-wha his friendly feelings

toward the Mongols had not changed. To this the Mongols made the only

answer that was to be expected from them. They fell upon the northern

towns and put them to indiscriminate slaughter. Men, women and children

fell beneath their swords. Gen. Sal Ye-t‘ap himself came to attack

Cho-im fortress. In that place there was a notable archer. He shot with

unerring skill and every arrow found its victim. Aided by this man the

garrison offered such a stubborn resistance that the Mongols at last

fell back in disorder. It is said that Gen. Sal Ye-t‘ap himself was one

of the victims of this man’s superb marksmanship. The king offered him

official position but he would not accept it.

The spring of 1233 found the emperor’s anger somewhat abated and instead

of sending another army he sent another envoy with four formulated

charges. (1) No Koryŭ envoy had come to do obeisance. (2) Highwaymen had

killed a Mongol envoy. (3) The king had run away from his capital. (4)

The king had given false figures in the census of Koryŭ. We are not told

whether these were answered but we may infer that they were, and in the

humblest tone.

It would be singular indeed if, in such lawless times, there were not

many insurrections in the country. A considerable insurrection was

gotten up in Kyŭng-sang Province but was put down with a heavy hand, for

the records say that after the battle between the rebels and the loyal

troops the road for six miles was lined with dead. In P‘yŭng-yang

likewise there was a rising led by one Pil Hyŭn-bo. The King sent Gen.

Chöng I alone to settle the difficulty. He had already been a

P‘yŭng-yang prefect and had put down one insurrection. He was feared

throughout the whole section. As he approached the northern city his

servant besought him not to enter it, but he replied that such were the

king’s orders. So he went to his death, for the insurrectionists,

failing to win him over to their side, gave him his quietus. The viceroy

then sent 3,000 picked troops to the rebellious city. They took the

rebel leader, cut him in two and sent the fragments of his body to the

king. The second in command named Hong Pok-wŭn, fled to the Mongols, by

whom he was warmly welcomed. He became their guide in many subsequent

expeditions. These renegades were a source of constant trouble between

Koryŭ and the Mongols; so much so that the King took pains to show favor

to the parents and relatives of those who had fled to the Mongol flag.

This same year a second wall was built about Kang-wha. The king sent

asking the Mongols to recall the rest of their troops, and it was done.

With the opening of the following year, 1234, great numbers of people

were summoned to help in the building of a palace on Kang-wha. At this

time the utmost favor was shown to Buddhism. Sacrifices were offered on

all the mountains and beside the streams with the hope of enlisting the

sympathy of the gods. The viceroy also looked out for himself, for we

are told, probably with some exaggeration, that he built himself a house

twenty _li_ in circumference. It was in this same year that the Kin

dynasty became extinct.

With the opening of the next year the real occupation of the land by the

Mongols commenced. The north was systematically occupied, scores of

prefects being seized. The king of Kang-wha meanwhile was trying to

secure a cessation of these hostilities by turning sun-worshipper, for

every morning from seven to twelve the officials spent their time

worshipping that very useful, but hardly divine, luminary. The year

following increased the hopelessness of Koryŭ’s position a hundred fold,

for the Mongols established seventeen permanent camps in P‘yŭng-an and

Whang-hă Provinces. They came as far south as Han-yang, the present

Seoul. They then proceeded southward to the very extremity of the

peninsula, and camps were established through all that portion of the

land. The only reverse the Mongols met in this triumphal march was at

the hands of Son Mun-ju the prefect of Chuk-ju, now Chuk-san, who had

learned the tactics of the Mongols while serving in the north. Every day

he foretold successfully at what point the enemy would make the next

attack. People said he was inspired.

It would seem that the Mongols, however, did not remain long in the

south, for we read that when the standard of revolt was raised the

following year at Na-ju, the Koryŭ forces, sent by the king, speedily

overcame them. This would hardly have been likely had the Mongols been

in force in that vicinity.

We must remember that the Mongols were continental people and knew

nothing of the sea. Even the narrow strip of water between Kang-wha and

the mainland daunted them. And so it was that the king from his island

retreat defied the tremendous Mongol power.

By 1238, when the Mongols again flooded the country with their soldiery,

the people had mostly found refuge among the mountains and on the

thousands of islands which lie off the western coast of Korea. It would

be impossible for anyone to imagine the suffering and distress entailed

by these invasions. The records say that the people simply left their

houses and fields and fled to these places of refuge. What did these

hundreds of thousands of people live on as they fled, and after they

reached their places of retreat? What breaking of old bonds of

friendship and kinship, what rending of family ties and uprooting of

ancient landmarks! It is a marvel that the land ever recovered from the

shock. These Mongols were fiercer and more ruthless than the Japanese

who overran the country three centuries later and they were far more

numerous, besides. Plunder being their main motive, their marauding

bands covered a much greater territory and mowed a much wider swath than

did the soldiers of the great Hideyoshi, who kept to comparatively

narrow lines of march. Nor did these Mongols meet the opposition which

the Japanese met. The Mongols made a clean sweep of the country, and

never again do we read of those splendid armies of 200,000 or 300,000

men which Koryŭ was once able to put into the field, even when groaning

under the weight of a corrupt court and a rampant priesthood. It is from

these days that dates that utter prostration of Koryŭ’s power which left

her an easy prey to every Japanese freebooter who had 100 good swords at

his back.

After ravaging to their hearts’ content the Mongols withdrew in 1236 to

their own territory but sent a messenger ordering the king to go to

Peking and bow before the Mongol emperor. He refused, but sent instead a

relative by the name of Chŭn with a letter asking the emperor to excuse

him from attempting the difficult journey to the Mongol court. Again the

next year the same demand was made, but this time the king simply

declined to go. The Mongols then modified their demand and ordered the

King to come out from his island retreat and return to Song-do. This the

king had no intention of doing; but the next year he sent another

relation named Sun as a hostage to the Mongol court asserting that this

was his son. The emperor believed this and married Sun to one of his own

near relatives.

The Mongol emperor Ogdai died in 1242 and the queen dowager took charge

of affairs during an interval of four years, until 1246, when Gayuk

became emperor. This brought peace to troubled Koryŭ for a period of

five or six years. During this time, all that was left of her resources

was used up in sending five or six embassies to the Mongol court each

year. The moment the pressure of war was raised the king followed once

more the bent of his inclinations, and while the country was in the very

lowest depths of distress he feasted royally in his island retreat,

while the viceroy vied with him in the splendor of his entertainments.

It is said that at one feast 1300 musicians performed. Meantime the

people were slowly returning to their homes.

Gayuk Khan came to the Mongol throne in 1246, and it was the signal for

the renewal of hostilities against Koryŭ. At first four hundred men

came, ostensibly to catch sea-otter but in reality to spy out the

country and learn the mountain passes of the north. The king was not

expecting a renewal of hostilities, or else was too much taken up with

his feasting to attend to the defenses of the north; so the people fled

in panic before this handful of invaders. Many of them took refuge on

Wi-do Island off P‘yŭng-an Province and there engaged in agriculture.

They built a great dam across an estuary of the sea and reclaimed a

large tract of cultivable land, but they suffered badly from lack of

wells.

In 1249 Gayuk died and the regency again devolved upon the queen

dowager. Peace again reigned for a time, broken only by a single

attempted invasion by the Yŭ-jin people, which was unsuccessful. The

king began the erection of a new palace at Song-do in order to make it

appear that he intended to obey the standing injunction of his suzerain

to go back to the capital.

The Mongol regency ended in 1251 and Mangu Khan became emperor. An envoy

was immediately despatched to inquire whether the king had yet obeyed

this command, but as the answer was unsatisfactory the Koryŭ envoy who

appeared at the emperor’s court the following year was thrown into

prison and a last envoy was sent with instructions to settle the

question definitely. If the king would come out and return to his

capital the people might remain on Kang-wha, but if the king refused,

the envoy was to return with all haste to the Emperor and war would be

declared at once. A certain Korean, hearing about these instructions,

hastened forward and informed the king and urged that he go out and meet

the envoy. To this the king did not assent. When the envoy arrived the

king set a great feast for him, in the midst of which the Mongol arose

and, assuming a terrible aspect, demanded loudly why the king did not

leave the island and return to Song-do. Without waiting for an answer to

the question he strode out of the hall and posted back to the north. The

people were in dismay and said to each other, “This means war again.”

When the lengthening vernal sun of 1253 had melted the northern snows

this prophetic word was verified. The renegade Koryŭ general, Hong

Pok-wŭn, told the emperor that the king had triple-walled the island of

Kang-wha and would not move therefrom. War, ever welcome to these first

Mongol emperors, was now afoot. The first detachment of 10,000 troops

was led by the Emperor’s brother Song-ju. With many allies from the

Yŭ-jin and other tribes he crossed the Yalu. Then the Mongol general, A

Mo-gan, and the renegade Hong crossed and advanced as far as the Ta-dong

River. Following these came Gen. Ya Gol-dă with sixteen chieftains in

his train and with a formidable array of troops.

The envoy Sun who, we will remember, had married a Mongol princess, now

wrote an urgent letter to the king saying “The emperor is angry because

you persist in disobeying him and he is sending seventeen kings against

you. But he says that if you will leave the island and follow out his

commands he will even now recall the army. You have now an opportunity

of giving your country a lasting peace. If you leave the island, send

your son to the emperor and receive the Mongol envoy well, it will be a

blessing to the kingdom of Koryŭ. If you will not do this, I beg of you

to put all my family to death.”

Beneath this last appeal lay a terrible threat and the king realized it.

A great council was convened and the universal voice was in favor of

compliance; but a single voice was raised in opposition. It said “How

much treasure have we squandered on this insatiable barbarian, and how

many good men have gone as envoys and never returned. Let the king go

out now from this place of safety and when we behold him a corpse our

condition will be enviable indeed!” This word startles the assembly.

Cowards that they are, they rise to their feet and with one voice

applaud the stirring words and charge the king to stay in his island

fortress and still defy the savage of the north.

Gen. Ya Gol-dă now sent a messenger to the King purporting to be from

the Emperor saying “I have begun from the rising sun and I will conquer

to its going down. All people rejoice but you, who do not listen. I now

send Gen. Ya Gol-dă. If you receive him well, I will leave you in peace;

if not, I will never forgive the offense.” Immediately putting his

troops in motion the redoubtable general approached the strongest

fortress in Whang-ha Province. It was surrounded by almost perpendicular

precipices. The commandant laughed at the Mongols and defied them, and

feasted in their sight. But the Mongols, directing all their energy at a

single point, soon battered down a portion of the wall, set fire to the

buildings with fire arrows, and with scaling ladders effected an

entrance. The commandant hanged himself, and 4,700 of the garrison were

put to the sword. All children above ten years old were killed and all

the women were ravished.

Gen. Ya Gol-dă, being at To-san in Whang-ha Province, received a

plaintive letter from the king asking him to retire from the country. He

told the bearer of this missive “The Emperor says the king is too old to

bow. I am going to find out whether this is true. I will give him just

six days to get here.” The messenger argued the dangerous condition of

the road and said it could not be done in that time. Then the Mongol

forces turned eastward and began to destroy the fortresses and loot the

store-houses, at the same time sending to the king saying “If every

prefect in the land will send in a written surrender I will retire.”

This was impossible in the present state of turmoil, and it probably was

a mere pleasantry on the part of the Mongols.

The town of Ch‘un-ch‘ŭn was a rather formidable place and its siege and

fall offer some interesting indications of the method of Mongol warfare.

First a double fence or stockade was built around the town and outside

this a bank six feet high and a ditch correspondingly deep. Ere long the

supply of water in the town gave out and the people killed their cattle

and drank the blood. The distress was terrible. Cho Hyo-ip, a leading

man, seeing that there was no escape, first burned up his family and

then killed himself. The prefect fought until he was exhausted and then

threw himself into a burning house and perished. A party of the

strongest of the remaining soldiers made a fierce attack upon one

portion of the stockade and succeeded in breaking through, but they

could not force the bank and trench beyond. The enemy entered, razed the

town and burned the grain, and the women were carried away. During this

time the king was using the only means left for turning the tide of war.

He was worshipping every spirit that he could think of, and before every

large boulder. He raised all his ancestors several rounds in the ladder

of apotheosis; but it all seemed to have little effect upon the progress

of events. Another renegade, Yi Hyŭn, arose in the north and forced many

districts into his following.

In the course of time Gen. Ya Gol-dă arrived before the town of

Ch‘ung-ju in Ch‘ung-ch‘ŭng Province, but being unable to reduce it

without a regular siege, he left his main army there and came north to

the vicinity of Kang-wha. He then announced, “If the King will come out

and meet me here I will take my forces back across the Yalu.” With this

message he sent ten Mongol generals to the king. The latter complied,

and with a heavy guard came across the straits and met Ya Gol-dă at

Seung-ch‘ŭn-bu. Gen. Mong Go-dă was present with Ya Gol-dă at the

interview which followed. The Mongol general said “After we crossed the

Yalu into Koryŭ, thousands of your people fell every day. Why should you

think only of your own comfort while your people are dying thus by tens

of thousands? If you had consented to come out sooner, many lives would

have been saved. We now ought to make a firm treaty.” He added that

Mongol prefects must be placed in each district and that a force of ten

thousand in all must be quartered upon Koryŭ. To this the king replied

that with such conditions it would be extremely difficult for him to

return to Song-do. In spite of this the Mongol leader placed one of his

men in each of the prefectures. The only question which was discussed in

the royal councils was how to get rid of the Mongols. One man dared to

suggest that the Crown Prince be sent to intercede with the emperor. The

king flew into a rage at this but soon he was so far mollified as to

consent to sending his second son, Chang, with rich gifts to the Mongol

court, a course of procedure which once more drained the royal coffers

to the last farthing. The king had promised the Mongols to go back to

Song-do “gradually” as fast as preparations could be made, and also to

destroy the palaces in Kang-wha. The Mongols kept their word and retired

but as they went they plundered and ravaged. When they had gone the king

caught the renegade Yi Hyŭn and killed him and his son, and banished all

his adherents. This was a dangerous course, for this man had acted as

guide to the Mongols and the latter were more than likely to resent his

death. So it turned out, for an envoy came post from the Mongol court

complaining that only the king alone had come out from Kang-wha, and

that a man who had helped the Mongols had been slain for it. Whether the

king answered these complaints satisfactorily we do not know, but soon

the emperor developed a new plan. He sent Gen. Cha Ra-dă with 5,000

troops to become governor-general of Koryŭ. The emperor little knew what

sort of a man he was letting loose upon Koryŭ. No sooner had this beast

in human shape crossed the frontier than he began a systematic course of

extermination. He killed right and left, every living thing. The king

hastened to remonstrate but he answered “Unless all the people have

their hair cut I shall continue to kill.” The records say that he

carried into captivity the enormous number of 206,800 souls, both men

and women, and that of the dead he left behind no estimate was ever

made. When the emperor heard of this, even his fierce heart was touched,

and the next year, 1255, he recalled the monster. The latter obeyed but

on his way north he built fortified camps along the way, for future use.

In spite of the thanks which the Koryŭ king sent to the emperor for this

deliverance, the latter allowed this same general to come back with a

powerful force, and accompanied by the same former envoy, Sun, who had

married the Mongol princess. The king had to go out and meet them and

waste his remaining treasure in useless presents. So thoroughly was his

exchequer depleted that his own table was but ill supplied.

The two countries were now nominally at peace, but as Gen. Cha seemed

bent on fighting, there seemed to be nothing to do but to fight. Some of

his soldiers were roughly handled at Chung-ju where a thousand were

killed. Again in the east a large detachment of his troops were heavily

defeated.

At last Gen. Cha came, in his sanguinary wanderings, to the vicinity of

Kang-wha and displayed his banners in sight of that island, to the great

uneasiness of its occupants. Sun, the renegade, was now a Mongol general

and was as bitter against Koryŭ; as any of the northern savages.

The king, in despair, sent Kim Su-gan to the emperor to make a last

appeal to his clemency, but the emperor replied “I cannot recall my

troops, for your king will not come out from his retreat”. To this the

envoy made the beautiful reply, “The frightened quarry will not come

forth from its hole till the hunter has departed. The flower cannot

spring from the frozen sod”. Upon hearing this the emperor immediately

gave orders for the recall of the ruthless Gen. Cha.

Ch‘oe Hang the son of Ch‘oe U, had held the position of viceroy for

eight years. His course had been one of utter selfishness and

oppression. Many honorable men had met their death at his hands. He now

died, leaving a son, Ch‘oe Chung, a young man of considerable power.

When the viceroy died his retainers did not announce the fact until the

household had been put in readiness for any emergency and a strong armed

guard had been stationed at every approach. We can argue from this fact

that the viceroyalty was anything but pleasing to the king and that in

case the viceroy died the king would be glad of an opportunity to

abolish the office altogether. Subsequent events proved the truth of

this supposition. When everything was in readiness the death was

announced and the young man Ch‘oe Chung was put forward as viceroy. The

king was obliged to confirm him in the office. He had no power to

refuse. Ch‘oe Jung was a son by a concubine and from this time the

annals contain no mention of men’s birth on the mother’s side. This was

because Ch‘oe Jung killed everybody who was heard speaking slightingly

of his birth. If anyone had a spite against another he could always

effectually vent it by charging him with having said that Ch’oe Chung

was of common birth.

Disaster and distress followed each other thick and fast in these days.

An insurrection arose in Kang-wŭn Province under the leadership of one

An Yul, but was put down. A famine wasted the country and the poor were

fed out of the government supplies. The Mongols though nominally at

peace with Koryŭ seemed to consider the territory as their legitimate

foraging ground, and now they came walking through the land, coming even

to the gates of Song-do. The king sent Gen. Yi Eung and feasted the

unwelcome guests in the hope of inducing them to leave the unhappy

country. It was a vain hope. They turned southward and continued their

thieving across the Han River even to Chik-san. The king feasted them

again and asked them to desist. The leader replied that he would do so

if the king would come out of Kang-wha and send the Crown Prince to the

Mongol court. As this leader was that same Gen. Cha who had once been

recalled by the emperor for cruelty, we may easily understand how

anxious the king was to be rid of him, at any cost. He therefore

consented to the conditions, and Gen. Cha retired as far as Yŭn-ju and

ordered all the detachments of his army to desist from plundering. The

king kept his word, in part at least, for he sent not the Crown Prince

but his second son together with Ch’oe Chung.

Ch’oe Chung used his wits for the purpose of personal emolument and his

credulity also led him into all kinds of difficulties. His grand mistake

was in casting off an aged slave, Kim In-jun, who had served his father

and grandfather faithfully and deserved better treatment at the young

man’s hands. The worm, thus trodden upon, turned and bit to the bone. It

was as follows. The aged servant, gaining access to the king, told him

that the young viceroy was dead and in a moment secured another man as

leader of the soldiers. Clad with his new power the vengeful old man

caught and killed some of the most intimate friends of the viceroy and

in the early morning gained access to the viceroy’s house and hunted him

from room to room. He found him hidden in a disused chimney flue from

which he was speedily drawn forth and dispatched. When the old slave

announced this to the king the latter said “You have done me a great

favor”, and could hardly refrain from tears. The king then destroyed the

picture of Ch’oe Chung-heun who had founded the viceroyalty, and

distributed the ill-gotten wealth of the Ch’oe family among the people.

It is said that even the lowest citizen received at least three bags of

rice or other grain. At the same time all Ch’oe’s following were

banished.

The year 1258 had now come, the last that the aged king Ko-jang was

destined to see. In this year the Mongols came again as usual. They

began by building and garrisoning a fortress at Eui-ju. Then Gen. Cha

Ra-dă with a small body of a thousand troops came southwards as far as

Su-an in Whang-hă Province. It shows how utterly shorn of power Koryŭ

was, that this general should dare to penetrate so far into the land

with only a thousand men at his back. Hearing of this the aged king

decided to try a little artifice. He came out of Kang-wha, across the

straits to Tong-jin on the opposite bank, in order to make it appear

that he had complied with the emperor’s command. Gen. Cha demanded that

the crown prince also come out. He made a line of camps all the way from

Song-do to Tong-jin and settled down as if he intended to stay and see

his orders obeyed. The king had retired to the island again upon the

near approach of the Mongols and now the latter redoubled their demands

and ravaged more remorselessly than ever. They swarmed all about

Kang-wha and nothing but a narrow strip of water lay between the king

and that more than half savage army. The water proved, however, an

effective barrier. All this time another Mongol force under Gen. San

Gil-dă was wasting the northern and eastern districts, The people of

Wha-ju and of fourteen other towns, led by one Sin Chip-pyŭng sought

refuge on Cho-do island but finding this insecure, moved to another; but

some Koryŭ renegades led Mongol troops there and overthrew the little

colony.

The king now altered his tactics. Sending an envoy to China he said “I

have desired to obey the emperor but hitherto I have been prevented by

the powerful officials. Now that the viceroy has been put out of the way

I will go back to Song-do and do as you shall direct. But we are

surrounded by your soldiery and it is hard to move. We are like mice

when the cat is about. Let them be ordered back home and I will do as

you direct.”

Meanwhile two traitors in the north had overpowered the Koryŭ general

and had gone over to the enemy. The whole north was therefore without a

single defence and was being held by these two traitors under Mongol

orders. Such was the unhappy condition of affairs when the year 1258

came to a close.

The History of Korea (vol. 1 of 2) · 第 6 / 15 章