In 1524 P‘yŭng-yang was decimated by the cholera. It is said that there

were 7700 deaths. The following year the envoy to Nanking, Yi Sun,

brought back with him the first compass ever seen in Korea. In 1532 a

royal concubine desired to have her son become king instead of the Crown

Prince. In order to accomplish the destruction of the latter she took a

dead rat, wrote his name on its belly and put it under the Prince’s

room. This is a common way of attempting to do an enemy to death by

witchery. She was discovered in the act and she and her son were put to

death. Some three years later a great mock naval battle was fought on

the river and the king went out and witnessed it.

The year 1536 beheld an important event in the bringing of the official

history of the dynasty up to date. In the next year an important law was

made, the one which commanded that the people of the upper class should

be distinguished from the lower class by a difference in the clothes.

Heretofore the style had been the same for both classes, but from this

time on the lower class was not allowed to wear the long flowing sleeves

which until recent years have distinguished the Korean gentleman.

In 1541 Chu Se-bung a noted scholar of Kyŭng-sang Province founded a

school at P‘ung-geui in honor of a noted sage An Yu who had lived there

during the Koryŭ dynasty. In digging the foundations he had found a bar

of copper of three hundred pounds weight. With the profits of the sale

he bought books for the school library.

The last recorded act of this monarch casts into the shade all his other

work and tells us more by implication about the condition of the people

than any other words could do. That act was the making of the Ok-pyŭn or

Korean-Chinese dictionary, arranged in the order of the Chinese

radicals. This important publication shows first a great advance all

along the line of literature. The demand for such a work argues a

constant pressure along literary lines that finally made it an absolute

necessity. In the second place it showed that the native character,

whatever may be said to the contrary, had taken a firm hold upon the

people and had begun to bring forth substantial fruit. A standard for

transliterating Chinese characters was demanded and the demand could

have sprung from nothing less than a large and constant use of the

native character. The publication of this work marks an era in the

literary life of the peninsula. It fixed the native character firmly

upon the people and made it a factor that can neither be ignored nor

evaded. The Chinese character is still a favorite in Korea but it will

go out before the native phonetic character as surely as the Latin

tongue went out from England before the English.

It was in 1544 that King Chung-jong closed his long and eventful career.

Forty years upon the throne had seen the country lifted out of the mire

into which it had been trodden by his predecessor, and brought to the

highest point of morals, of literature and of general culture that it

has ever reached. He was succeeded by his son Yi-ho who is known by his

posthumous title In-jong Yŭng-jŭng Tă-wang.

The career of this monarch affords another illustration of what

Confucianism in its extremer moods can do. When his father died he

fasted six days and became so weak that he could hardly stand even with

the aid of a staff. He continued to refuse sufficient food and mourned

continually for his father. He would sit on the bare ground all night

long even in winter, asking Heaven to kill him or else give him back his

father. He refused medicine saying that his trouble was one that drugs

could not reach. Seeing that his end was approaching he asked that his

half brother Prince Kyön-wŭn be made king after him. When he died the

whole land resounded with wailing. It is said that in a single day the

news travelled by the sound of wailing caught up from village to

village, even to the limits of the kingdom. The new king is called

Myŭng-jong Kong-hön Tă-wang.

This king at his accession was a lad twelve years old and consequently

the regency devolved upon his mother. This was most unfortunate for she

was a wholly unscrupulous woman and ere the king was old enough to

assume the duties of his high office inflicted serious injuries upon the

state. She had a brother, Yun Wŭn-hyŭng, who was her equal in daring and

intrigue. Yun Im the uncle of the deceased king In-jong was holding

office at this time. He was a faithful and honest man. Being the brother

of the late king’s mother he formed a natural as well as moral

antithesis to the brother of the new king’s mother. Yun Wŭn-hyŭng had a

younger brother Yun Wŭn-no who was his equal in chicanery. They could

not but be enemies and so the elder banished the younger to Hă-nam in

the south.

From the time when King Chung-jong died the two rival leaders Yun

Wŭn-hyŭng and Yun Im, the trickster and the statesman, had been wooing

fortune for the premiership. The people called Yun Im the “Big Yun” and

Yun Wŭn-hyŭng the “Little Yun.” The people are not seldom the best

judges of their rulers. During the short reign of King In-jong the

friends of Yun Im had been in power and they had sedulously kept all

evil-minded men, including Yun Wŭn-hyŭng, out of office. For this reason

it was that when the latter came into power he found himself at the head

of a crowd of malcontents who thirsted first for the sweets of office

and secondly for the sweets of revenge. Before King In-jong died “Little

Yun” had poisoned the mind of the incoming king’s mother against “Big

Yun” by asserting that he and his friends were conspiring to prevent the

accession of her son. The Queen Mother, as soon as she came to the

regency sent word to “Little Yun” to put “Big Yun” and his associates to

death. He called the Chief of Police and gave orders to that effect but

that careful individual said that the men he was ordered to kill were

honest men and that he would have nothing to do with it. “Little Yun”

then sought audience with the boy king and urged the matter, the Queen

Mother adding her voice to his arguments. The courtiers said that it was

mere hearsay and so long as the new king had ascended the throne without

any attempt at sedition the matter ought to be dropped; whereupon the

Queen Mother flew into a passion and screamed, “Do you want my son to

sit here and be murdered? I will have those men killed like snakes in

the fire.” She then ordered the courtiers to retire, and the bowl of

poison was sent to “Big Yun” and his friends. A relative of the king,

whom the Regent believed they intended to make king instead of her son,

fled to Sŭ-gwang Monastery and hid in a cave behind it, but he was

tracked down and seized. They brought him to Seoul and killed him by

searing his body all over with red hot irons. “Little Yun” was now the

royal favorite, or at least the Regent’s favorite, and the men who had

opposed the appointment of himself and his friends to official position

were banished right and left or else killed.

We will remember that the Japanese settlers had been driven from the

three southern ports during the reign of King Chung-jong. An envoy now

came saying that the Japanese settlers were not to blame for that

uprising but that it was done by a band of ruffians from the islands,

and they asked to be allowed to resume the old friendly relations.

Consent was given but on condition that twice a year tribute should be

brought to Fusan from Tsushima. The Japanese who headed this embassy was

called So-i Jön-sa. This occurred in the year 1548. The same year saw

the famous books Kang-mok Chŭn-p‘yŭng and Sok-kang-mok, dealing with

Chinese history, and the military works Pal-myŭng Kang-eui, and Mu-gyŭng

Ch‘ong-yo copied in Korea and disseminated throughout the country. These

are among the best known works in Korea today. The common people

execrated the favorite Yun Wŭn-kyŭng and chafed under the regency of the

Queen Mother. They went so far as to put out posters stating that “We

are ruled by a woman, and her creatures are fattening off the revenues

of the land. It means the destruction of the kingdom.” So far from

learning a lesson from this, the Regent said, “It is because we did not

make thorough work with the followers of ‘Big Yun’.” She therefore

seized and killed above seventy more of them, all good and honest men.

It is generally believed that the hardships endured by the people during

this reign, because of famines, pestilences and other calamities, were a

forerunner of the terrible cataclysm that swept over the land during the

following reign, in the great Japanese invasion. These calamities had

begun in the very first year of the reign when a pestilence swept the

province of Ham-gyŭng. The same year an enormous mass of rock became

detached from the side of Sam-gak mountain back of Seoul and fell with

such a tremendous crash that it was heard and felt in all the adjoining

prefectures. This was followed by disastrous floods in various parts of

the country whereby thousands of people perished and vast amounts of

property were destroyed. In the city of P‘yŭng-yang alone 720 houses

fell and 209 lives were lost.

It was in 1550 that an astronomical instrument was made, called the

Sŭn-gi-ok-hyŭng or “Heaven Measure.” We are not told the exact nature of

the instrument, but it implies a considerable degree of intellectual

activity and an inclination toward scientific pursuits that is rare in

Korea.

The Queen Mother, as seems to have been common with women of high degree

in Korea, became a confirmed Buddhist. This tendency became so strong

that in 1552 she had a law made requiring government sanction for a man

to enter the priesthood, and special examinations were also required. A

monk named Po U, an unscrupulous but capable man, exercised immense

influence at the palace. The courtiers besought the king to drive him

away but as yet the Regent was too strong.

The following year the custom of filling the ranks of the army by

conscription was inaugurated. All men over fifteen years of age were

supposed to give two or three years’ service. But it was not a success.

The military spirit has never been really strong in Korea since the

downfall of ancient Ko-kuryŭ. The profession of arms has always been

looked down upon as an inferior calling and so long as a living could be

gained some other way the army has been shunned. The law of conscription

was soon modified so that the payment of a modest sum, three hundred and

fifty cash a year, bought exemption from service. Later the sum was

raised to 10,000 cash and even to 20,000 in some cases, but this

included a large “squeeze” on the part of the officials.

The Queen Mother’s power came to an end in 1554 when the king reached

his twenty-first year. From that point matters began to mend. The

ex-Regent and her minions lost a large part of their power, but other

difficulties came up which took the place of those which were thus

overcome. The wild tribe of Kol-gan-bul crossed the northern border and

harried the border towns. When sixty of them had been caught and

beheaded the remainder retired. A Japanese marauding band, returning

from the coast of China laden with booty, landed on the Korean coast and

were there captured and sent to Nanking. The next year seventy

boat-loads of Japanese landed on the Chul-la coast and killed several

prefects but the governor called about him a band of soldiers and routed

the invaders. A hundred and twenty Japanese were killed and all their

arms were captured.

One of the most signal victories the Koreans ever scored over the

pirates occurred in 1556. A thousand or more of these unwelcome

neighbors landed at Tal-yang in Chŭl-la Province and besieged the town.

Government troops were sent against them but were driven back with great

loss. The O-ran, Ma-do and Ka-ri harbor forts were besieged and taken

and the towns of Chang-heung and Kang-jin were swept by the remorseless

foe. Kim Pin the admiral of Chul-la Province, and the prefect of

Kwang-ju were both badly defeated in their attempts to check this

hostile advance.

Yi Yun-gyŭng, the prefect of Chŭn-ju raised a force of 2000 men and

marched toward the seat of war. An experienced general warned him that

he could do nothing but he replied “Then let my head pay the price.” He

gave a written promise that if any of his men deserted he would forfeit

his life, so great was his confidence in the quality of his soldiers.

Pushing rapidly forward he first encountered the Japanese at Hyang-gyo

where he threw up breastworks. He was to have been reinforced by his

brother but the latter sent, warning him that it was a hopeless case and

urging him to retreat. He replied by decapitating the messenger and

attacking the enemy single-handed. He warned his men that the first one

to retreat would lose his head.

The leader of the Japanese rode a powerful white horse and bore in his

hand a yellow flag, and he kept beating his sword against the flagstaff

with terrible clamor. Gen. Yi began the attack not by shooting at the

Japanese themselves but by shooting fire arrows into their camp and

among their baggage. When this was seen to be well ablaze he ordered a

charge and singling out the conspicuous Japanese leader soon laid him

low with one of the famous “needle arrows.” The enemy was soon in full

retreat but their progress was stopped by a high ledge of rocks and

there they were brought to bay. It is said that 1800 Japanese perished

at this point. This is but another sample of what Korean soldiery can do

when properly led. The brilliant young leader was made governor of the

province. The Japanese who escaped made their way across the straits

into the island of Quelpart, where they demanded arms of the prefect,

for they had cast away theirs in their precipitate flight. Instead of

complying the prefect attacked them, brandishing an enormous

battle-club. The victory was complete and the plain was strewed with the

dead bodies of the foe.

When the king heard of these victories he praised the troops and

remitted all the revenue from the prefectures where the Japanese had

created the disturbance.

A serious rebellion occupied public attention in the year 1563. A

butcher of Yang-ju named Im Ko-jung gathered about him a band of

desperate highwaymen and began to plunder and burn in that and the

neighboring prefectures. Government troops chased them into Ku-wŭl

Mountains where they were tracked with difficulty owing to the fact that

they wore their shoes reversed in order to deceive their pursuers. But

the army surrounded the whole mountain and, gradually working their way

up, at last brought the offenders to bay and cut them down.

In 1566 the Queen Mother died, and no sooner was it announced than the

monk who had been such a favorite with her was banished to Quelpart and

there beaten to death. This done, the officials demanded the death of

Yun Wŭn-hyŭng. The King refused to kill his uncle but deprived him of

all official position and drove him away from the capital.

Chapter IV.

King Sŭn-Jo takes the throne.... a memorable reign.... reforms....

northern invasion.... a prophecy.... mourning costume.... rise of

the political parties.... party strife.... literature.... border

war.... condition of affairs in Korea.... charge of effeminacy

untrue.... condition of Japan.... Japanese envoy.... Hideyoshi....

his demands refused.... second envoy.... delay.... Korea’s condition

acceded to.... renegades executed.... conspiracy.... a coward

envoy.... Hideyoshi’s ultimatum.... Korea refuses.... Tairano....

the King’s answer to Hideyoshi.... the King informs the Emperor....

preparations for war.... generals commissioned.... the army of

invasion.... lands on Korean soil.... Japanese firearms.... the

cowardly provincial general.... the fall of Tong-nă.... a faithful

defender.... cowardly officers.... the Japanese move northward.... a

martinet.

In 1568, as King Myŭng-jong lay dying, his Queen summoned the officials

to consult about the succession but ere they arrived the King expired.

They asked her to nominate a successor and she named Prince Hă-sŭng a

youth of seventeen, second cousin to the deceased King. He is known by

his posthumous title Sŭn-jo So-gyŭng Tă-wang. The Queen who nominated

him acted as regent until he should reach his majority.

This reign is perhaps the most memorable of any in this dynasty, for in

it occurred the great Japanese invasion which brought the land to the

verge of destruction and which has ever since colored the Korean

conception of the Japanese.

The first years of the reign were spent in correcting the abuses brought

about by “Little Yun” and in removing from office all those who had been

connected in any way with him. The whole kingdom was canvassed for wise

and scholarly men to put in the places of those who had been removed.

Books intended for the instruction and elevation of the people were

published and distributed far and wide.

The wild Ya-in across the Ya-lu were crossing that river and taking

possession of fields in Korea proper, near the town of Kang-gye. The

King sent a force under Gen. Kim Tong-yung to dislodge them. The

intruders were chased across the river and into a narrow defile where

they turned on their pursuers. Taken thus by surprise the Korean forces

were thrown into confusion and were put to flight, but not till after

their general had fallen. A second expedition chased the intruders to

their villages, and burned them out.

In the following year the Prime Minister Yi Chun-gyŭng died, but before

he expired he gave voice to a prophecy which has become historic. He

said:—“Since I have begun to examine men’s minds I find that opposing

factions will arise and that in their train great evils will follow. The

king should studiously avoid showing favoritism to either of these

factions. The first symptom of the rise of such factions should be met

with stern resistance.”

In the year 1572, the relations with the Japanese were as follows:—Since

the seventh year of King Chöng-jong, when the Japanese in the three

ports revolted, there had been little communication between the two

countries, but a few Japanese had been allowed to live in the three

settlements by sufferance. But now the Japanese sent a friendly message

asking that the old relations be resumed. The prefect of Fusan added his

influence in favour of granting the request, and the Japanese were

allowed to resume operations at Fusan alone, three _li_ below the

prefecture, which means about half way down the bay from the present

village of Fusan. From that time the former relations seem to have been

renewed, but no envoys went from Korea to Japan. It was decreed by the

Korean government that should a Japanese land anywhere upon the coast

except at Fusan he should be dealt with as a pirate. Officials were set

to watch the Japanese and see to it that they did not overstep the

strict regulations.

It had not been customary for the people to assume mourning on the death

of a royal personage, but when the Queen Regent died in 1575 the custom

was begun, and each citizen wore a white hat, belt, and shoes.

This year, 1575, was signalized by another event of far-reaching

importance and one which exerted a powerful influence over all

subsequent Korean history. It was the formation of the great political

parties. At first there were only two, but soon they split into four,

which are known as the No-ron, So-ron, Nam-in, and Puk-in. These mean

“The Old Men’s Party,” “The Young Men’s Party,” “The Southerners,” and

“The Northerners.” These terms are not at all descriptive of the

composition of the various parties but arose from trivial circumstances.

These parties have never represented any principles whatever. They have

never had any “platforms,” but have been, and are, simply political

clans each bent upon securing the royal favour and the offices and

emoluments that go therewith. The story of their rise shows how

frivolous were the causes which called them into being, and the

remainder of these annals will show how they have cursed the country.

During the palmy days of the odious “Little Yun” of the preceding reign,

a man by the name of Sim Eni-gyŭm happening to see a blanket in the

reception room of the universally hated favorite, asked to whom it

belonged. When he was told that it belonged to one Kim Hyo-wŭn, he

exclaimed “He is called a good man, but if so how can he sleep in the

house of such a man as Little Yun.” So he opposed this Kim with all his

might and was opposed by him in like manner. The matter grew into a

family feud and kept on increasing until at the time of which we are

writing two hostile clans had arisen, the one called Sŭ-in or

“Westerners,” because their leader lived in the western part of Seoul.

The other was at first called Tong-in or “Easterners,” perhaps because

their leader lived in the eastern part of the city. The two men through

whom the quarrel first arose had now left the field of active politics

and the Sŭ-in and Tong-in parties were led respectively by Pak Sun and

Hŭ Yŭp. It is said that from this time impartiality in the distribution

of offices was a thing unknown in Korea. A Sŭ-in would help a Sŭ-in and

a Tong-in would help a Tong-in, right or wrong.

The long fight was immediately begun. A slave in Whang-hă province was

accused of murder and was held in prison waiting the decision of Pak

Sun, the leader of the party in power. He did not believe the man guilty

and delay followed. Hŭ Yŭp, the leader of the opposition, took advantage

of this and accused his rival of neglect of duty. Then followed a

running fire of charge and counter-charge between the leaders and

between their partisans. The Tong-in, or So-ron as it soon came to be

called, won in this first encounter and two of the opposing faction were

banished. The Prime Minister urged that this fight was utterly useless

and would cause endless trouble. The king agreed and determined to stamp

out the cause of the disturbance; so he banished the two men Kim and Sim

who had originated the factions. This had no effect however upon the now

thoroughly organized parties and affairs kept going from bad to worse.

In 1579 Păk In-gŭl said to the king, “All the people have taken sides in

this senseless war and even though a man be a criminal there are plenty

who will defend him. This means the ultimate destruction of the kingdom,

and the King should act as a peacemaker between the factions.” Others

urged the same point before the king, but they were unaware that it was

beyond the power of any king to lay the evil spirit of factional strife.

In the fifteenth year of his reign the king threw himself into the cause

of literature. He believed that neglect of the classics was the cause of

the factional strife in his kingdom. He ordered the publication of the

“Religion in the Mind,” “Picture of the Good and Evil Will,” and “The

Legacy of Kim Si-seup.” He called together a large congress of scholars,

and in company with them threw himself into the study of the classics.

The year 1583 beheld a fierce invasion on the part of the northern

savages under Pon-ho. The prefecture of Kyöng-wŭn, in Ham-gyŭng

Province, was taken by them, but Sil-Yip, the prefect of On-sŭng, went

to its succour, and after a desperate fight before the town, broke the

back of the invasion, drove the marauders back across the Tu-man and

burned their villages.

[Illustration: _THE HAN RIVER._]

A novel method was adopted for raising recruits for the army on the

border. A law was made that sons of concubines, who had always been

excluded from official position, might again become eligible by giving a

certain amount of rice or by going themselves and giving three years’

time to border guard duty along the Ya-lu or Tu-man. Two chieftains, Yul

Po-ri and Yi T’ang-ga, advanced by separate roads upon Kyöng-sŭng with

10,000 mounted followers, but the little garrison of 100 men fought so

stubbornly that the siege was raised and the two chieftains marched on

to attack Pang-wŭn. Fortunately government troops arrived just in time

to drive the invaders back.

The Minister of War was working faithfully forwarding troops as fast as

they could be gotten ready, but the opposition made charges against him

on the ground of the neglect of some trifling technicality and he

forthwith laid down his portfolio and retired in disgust. When the king

asked the Prime Minister about it, that careful individual, fearing to

compromise himself, would give no definite answer and the king

consequently said, “If my Prime Minister will not tell me the facts in

the case it is time he retired,” so he too lost footing and fell from

royal favor.

Having reached now the threshold of the great Japanese invasion of Korea

it will be necessary for us to pause and examine the state of affairs in

Japan and institute a comparison between that country and Korea in order

to discover if possible the causes of Japan’s early success and

subsequent defeat.

Korea and Japan may be said to have been at two opposite poles.

Beginning with Korea, we notice, first, that her relations with the Ming

dynasty were eminently peaceful. Unlike the Mongols of an earlier date

and the Manchus of a later date the Mings did not have their origin in

the north, and therefore were brought less into contact with Korea along

her northern border. They belonged to central China and were not a horde

of brutal pillagers as were the Mongols and Manchus. Hence it was that

so long as Korea was friendly and held her own way quietly the Ming

emperors concerned themselves very little about her. To this day Korea

looks back to the Ming dynasty as her true patron and realizes that the

Manchu supremacy is an alien one. Korea had been strongly unified by the

statesmanship of the first kings of the Cho-sŭn dynasty, the present

one, and had been ruled so well as a general thing that there was no

sense of insecurity and no particular fear from the outside except such

as arose from the occasional irruption of a northern tribe or a

piratical raid of a few boatloads of Japanese. The only need of a

standing army was to guard herself from such attacks. The arts of peace

flourished, the country was peaceful, there is little reason to believe

that she was sunken, as many have averred, into a state of shameful

effeminacy. In fact there is much to indicate the opposite, for almost

up to the very year in which the invasion occurred the policy of reform

instituted by king Se-jong was adhered to and the rulers, however

unwarlike they may have been, surely did much for the sake of

literature, art and public morals. You will scarcely find in the annals

of history that the kings who ruled during times of great public

degeneracy, when luxury sapped the vital power of the nation, spent

their time in giving to the people treatises on moral, scientific,

social and literary topics as these kings unquestionably did even up to

the day when the Japanese cataclysm swept the country. It had not been a

hundred years since an unworthy king had been driven from the throne by

his disgusted people and been refused the posthumous title. That king

was succeeded by one who made the land even puritanic in the severity of

its morals, who fostered the arts and sciences as hardly any other had

done and who crowned his work by publishing the Ok-pyŭn, which marked an

era in the literary life of the people. He had been followed in turn by

a king who continued the work of progress and among other things caused

the construction of a complicated astronomical instrument. The following

reign was the one in which the invasion occurred. No candid reader can

believe that the country was steeped in such absolute degeneracy as the

Japanese annalists would have us believe, and which other writers who

had not access to the Korean annals have described. But some may say

that the good work of Korean kings does not necessarily argue a good

people. This again is a mistake, for there could scarcely be found a

people that has taken their cue more directly from the court than have

the Korean people. When the kings have been lax the people have followed

the example and when the kings have been true men the people have been

brought back to honest living. The refutation of this calumny then needs

but a careful perusal of the Korean annals; not those which have been

written under government sanction and are therefore unreliable but those

which, like these, have been drawn from the private and popular

histories of the dynasty and are presumably reliable. For centuries

Korea had been at peace, except for insignificant uprisings on the

border, and the arts of peace had gradually taken the place of martial

prowess. A man is not an object of contempt simply because he is not a

warrior. If he is, then let us go back to the peat-smoke of our

ancestral hovels.

Having shown this reason for Korea’s inability to hold the Japanese in

check to have been a false one it will be necessary to account for it in

some other way. This can easily be done. The reason was three-fold. In

the first place the Korean people, having no use for a large standing

army, had not been trained in large numbers to military life. Secondly

the Japanese were armed with firearms while the Koreans had absolutely

none. The first firearm that was ever seen in Korea was given the king

by a Japanese envoy just at the outbreak of the invasion, as we shall

see. This alone would account for Korea’s inability to cope with the

islanders. In the third place the rise of the political parties had

brought in a spirit of jealousy which made it impossible for any man to

reach celebrity without calling down upon himself the hatred of the

opposing party and his consequent ruin. This we deem the main cause of

Korea’s weakness. The following pages will show whether this view is

upheld by facts or not. It was the mutual jealousies of opposing parties

that proved the bane of the land and not the supineness and effeminacy

of the people.

We must now glance at Japan and see of what stuff the invaders were

made. Unlike the Korean people, the Japanese had never been welded into

a homogeneous mass. Feudalism was the most marked feature of Japanese

life. It has been but thirty years since Japan became a unit. It was

feudalism and its consequent spirit of liberty (for feudalism is liberty

in embryo) that made possible Japan’s phenomenal development during the

past three decades. Her feudalism is therefore not to be decried, but

one of its necessary evils was a state of almost continual civil war.

For two centuries preceding the invasion of Korea Japan had been one

great battlefield. War was the great occupation of the people. While

Korea had been busy producing Japan had been busy destroying and when at

last Hideyoshi, the great Shogun, found himself the virtual ruler of a

temporarily quiet kingdom he had on hand an enormous army which must

either be given occupation or must be disbanded. The latter he dared not

do and the former he could not do without finding a field of operation

abroad. But we are anticipating.

It is well known that the government of Japan was not administered by

the emperor in person but by an official called the Taiko, or Kwan-băk

as the Koreans say. For about two centuries this office had been in the

hands of a family named Wŭn. Hideyoshi had been a retainer in the family

of the Taiko. Being a bold and successful fighter he won his way to a

generalship and from this point of vantage killed the Taiko and assumed

that title himself. It had been the dream of his life to strike at

China. He had tried it once unsuccessfully by boat, attacking her at

Chŭl-gang. He now changed his plan and decided to make Korea a stepping

stone to the conquest of the Ming empire. His initial move was based on

his statement “Year after year our envoys have gone to Korea but they

never send one in return.”

In pursuance of this policy a Japanese envoy named Yasuhiro appeared at

the Korean court in 1587 bearing a harshly worded and insulting letter

demanding that the king send an envoy to Japan. The only notice taken of

this demand was a polite note in which the king stated that as the

journey by sea was a long one and the Koreans were not good sailors he

would have to be excused from complying with the demand. When Yasuhiro

placed this missive in the hands of his master he was promptly ordered

into the hands of the executioner.

The opening of the year 1588 found Korea still suffering from outbreaks

of the far northern border and Gen. Yi Il took a small force of men,

crossed the Tu-man River on the ice and attacked the Chin-do tribe.

Being successful in this he took 2000 men, crossed the same river at

four different points simultaneously and attacked the Si-jun tribe by

night, burning 200 houses and killing 300 people.

In the spring of this year there arrived from Japan a second envoy, or

rather three envoys, Yoshitoshi, Tairano Tsuginobu and a monk Gensho. Of

these Yoshitoshi was the chief. He is described by the Koreans as being

a young man, but coarse and violent and of such a fierce nature that the

other members of his suite dared come into his presence only on their

knees. They dared not look him in the face. Yoshitoshi and his suite

were comfortably quartered at the Tong-p‘ŭng-gwan near the present

Japanese settlement in Seoul, and having renewed the demand that Korea

send an envoy to Japan, he waited month after month hoping that the king

would accede to the demand and fearing to go back without success lest

he should meet the same fate that Yasuhiro the former envoy had

suffered.

At last the king announced that he would send an envoy to Japan on one

condition, namely that the Japanese government seize and send back to

Korea a number of Korean renegades who, under the leadership of one Sa

Wha-dong, had run away to Japan and had since led marauding bands of

Japanese against the southern seaboard of Korea. To this condition the

Japanese envoy gladly consented and Tairano was despatched to Japan to

carry it out. But it was not till the seventh moon of the following

year, 1589, that the pirate Sa Wha-dong and three Japanese freebooters

together with certain other Koreans were brought back from Japan and

delivered up to justice. With them came a letter from the Japanese

government saying “We are not responsible for the evil deeds of these

men. The Korean Sa Wha-dong is the cause of this trouble; so we send

them all to you and you must mete out to them such punishment as you see

fit.” The culprits were immediately decapitated outside the West Gate.

This seems to have thawed somewhat the reserve of the king and

Yoshitoshi was called to the palace for the first time, where he was

presented by the king with a handsome steed while he in turn gave the

king a peacock and some firearms, the first that had ever been seen in

Korea.

Late in the year a dangerous conspiracy was discovered, the prime mover

being Chöng Yo-rip of Chŭl-la Province. He had arranged a plan by which

he and several friends of his in Whang-hă Province should rise

simultaneously and overthrow the government. A certain monk in Ku wŭl

mountain in Whang-hă Province discovered that a certain man, Cho Ku, was

working diligently among the people, taking names, sending numerous

letters and in other ways acting in a suspicious manner. He believed the

man was a traitor and told the prefect of An-ak to be on the lookout.

The latter arrested the man and examined him. It was then elicited that

a widespread rebellion was being gotten up. When the news was told the

king secretly he called together his officials and asked “What sort of a

man is this Chöng Yo-rip?” Some said they did not know but the Prime

Minister said that he was a good scholar and an exemplary man. The king

then threw upon the floor the letter telling about the plot and

exclaimed “Read that and see what sort of a man he is.”

The traitor Chöng had gotten wind of the discovery and had fled with his

son to Chi-nan Mountain in Chŭl-la Province but he was pursued and

surrounded. Rather than be taken he cut his own throat and expired. His

son and his nephew were taken back to Seoul and executed. The nephew

under torture affirmed that the Prime Minister and a large number of

other officials were privy to the plot. This was the more easily

believed because the Prime Minister had insisted that Chöng was a good

man. So he and two others were banished. It is affirmed on good

authority that the Prime Minister and the other who suffered were

innocent of the charge, and that it was simply one of the deplorable

results of party jealousy and strife. We here have a striking instance

of the cause of Korea’s weakness.

All momentous events in Korea are believed to be foretold in some way.

It is said that in this year 1589 a good man named Cho Hön went to the

monastery at Kom-san and when rice was set before him said “Whoever eats

with me will die next year, for the Japanese are coming with 200,000

men. Those here who do not eat with me will live.” Three only are said

to have taken up the challenge and eaten with him.

In the third moon of the following year 1590 the king redeemed his

promise by sending to Japan three envoys, Whang Yun-gil, Kim Sŭng-il and

Ho Sŭng. They were accompanied by the Japanese envoy who had waited a

year for them. Whang Yun-gil was chief of the Korean embassy, but he was

a weak, timid man who hardly dared speak when a Japanese addressed him.

The other members of the embassy realizing how such action would bring

Korea into contempt at the Japanese court, tried to stir him up and make

him speak out fearlessly, but to no avail. After wasting a year at the

Japanese court the embassy returned, accompanied by Tairano who was

charged with an important mission to the king but the minute this

embassy landed at Tong-ăn Whang Yun-gil the cowardly envoy sent a letter

post haste to Seoul saying that war with Japan was certain. When they

all arrived at Seoul the king called them into audience and questioned

them about their experiences in Japan. His first question was “Did you

see Hideyoshi? How did he look?” Whang replied “His eyes flashed fire.

He is a fearsome man.” but Kim Sŭng il said “There is nothing fearsome

about him. His eyes are like rats’ eyes.”

The important letter of which Tairano was the bearer was now handed to

the King and it lay bare the mind of Hideyoshi. It read as follows:—

“Our country consists of sixty-six kingdoms. They all revolted from the

Emperor but for four years I fought them and succeeded in bringing them

all to their knees until even the remote islands lay mastered in my

hand. When my mother conceived me it was by a beam of sunlight that

entered her bosom in a dream. After my birth a fortune teller said that

all the land the sun shone on would be mine when I became a man, and

that my fame would spread beyond the four seas. I have never fought

without conquering and when I strike I always win. Man cannot outlive

his hundred years, so why should I sit chafing on this island? I will

make a leap and land in China and lay my laws upon her. I shall go by

way of Korea and if your soldiers will join me in this invasion you will

have shown your neighborly spirit. I am determined that my name shall

pervade the three kingdoms.”

At a feast given in honor of the Japanese embassy, Hyŭn So, the Japanese

monk who seems to have accompanied Tairano to the Korean court,

whispered to Whang Yun-gil and said, “The reason why Hideyoshi wants to

attack China is because the Emperor refuses to receive a Japanese envoy.

If Korea leaves us but a clear road to China we will ask nothing else.

No troops need be given.” To this Whang replied. “That can never be.

China is our Mother Country and we cannot so desert her as to give a

road to an invading army.” The monk returned to the attack but this time

from another standpoint. “Long ago the Mongol hordes desired to invade

Japan and you gave them a road through Korea for that purpose. Now when

we seek revenge you should do the same by us.” This was considered too

preposterous a thing to be even discussed and the matter suddenly

dropped and the Japanese envoys started straight back to their own

country. It was this envoy Tairano who while on his way up from Fusan

insulted the aged governor of Tă-gu by saying, “For ten years I have

followed war and thus my beard is gray; why should you grow old?” Also

calling for a Korean spear he said, “Your spears are too long,” meaning

that only cowards use long spears. He it was also who threw the basket

of oranges to the dancing girls and, when they scrambled for them,

uttered his ironical criticism. “Your nation is doomed. You have no

manners.”

When this embassy went back to Japan he carried an answer to Hideyoshi’s

letter, in which the King said:—

“Two letters have already passed between us and the matter has been

sufficiently discussed. What talk is this of our joining you against

China? From the earliest times we have followed law and right. From

within and from without all lands are subject to China. If you have

desired to send your envoys to China how much more should we. When we

have been fortunate China has rejoiced and when we have been unfortunate

she has helped us. The relations which subsist between us are those of

parent and child. This you well know. Can we desert both emperor and

parent and join with you? You doubtless will be angry at this and it is

because you have not been admitted to the court of China. Why is it that

you are not willing to admit the suzerainty of the emperor instead of

harboring such hostile intents against him? This truly passes our

comprehension.”

The emperor hearing a rumor of a Korean Japanese alliance sent and

enquired about it but the king replied through an envoy telling the

facts of the case exactly as they had occurred. It was well understood

in Korea that an invasion was all but inevitable and active preparations

were going on all the year in view of this contingency. Three able men

were sent as the governors of Kyŭng-sang, Chŭl-la and Ch‘ung-chŭng

Provinces respectively, namely Kim Su, Yi Kwang, and Yun Sŭng-gak. They

were so energetic in repairing fortresses and accumulating arms that the

people complained loudly. Someone told the king that Yi Sun-sin, a man

as yet unknown, had in him the making of the greatest general in the

world, and for this reason the king made him admiral of all the naval

forces of the kingdom.

Chapter V.

The army of invasion.... lands on Korean soil.... Japanese fire-arms....

fall of Fusan.... a cowardly provincial governor.... the fall of

Tong-nă.... a faithful defender.... cowardly officers.... the

Japanese move northward.... a martinet.... braver soldiers than

leaders.... the news reaches Seoul.... the three roads guarded.... a

comical predicament.... a good shot.... Cho-ryŭng (Pass) left

undefended.... an army disbands for lack of leaders.... Gen. Yi Il’s

fiasco.... Gen. Sil Yip wants to fight in the plain....

reconnoitering.... the Korean army in a trap.... overwhelming

defeat.

We have now arrived at the year 1592 A.D. the two hundredth anniversary

of the founding of the dynasty, the year that was destined to see the

country swept by the Japanese hordes. The Koreans call it the Im-jim

year and the mere pronunciation of that word today brings up in the

Korean’s mind the tales of horror and suffering which his mother told

him when a boy, and which have determined the whole attitude of the

Korean mind toward Japan.

Before spring opened the king took an inventory of all the arms that

were available, and appointed Gen. Sil Yip to the command of the forces

in Kang-Wŭn and Ham-gyŭng Provinces, and Gen. Yi Il to the command of

those in the south. In the third moon the officials worshiped at the

tomb of King T‘ă-jo the founder of the dynasty. Korean tradition says

that wailings were heard proceeding from this tomb for three or four

days preceding the landing of the Japanese.

Hideyoshi had gotten together an enormous force from all parts of the

kingdom and the expedition rendezvoused at the islands of Iki. They were

led by thirty-six generals, the general-in-chief being Hideyi.

As to the numbers in the invading army the Korean account agrees so well

with the Japanese that there can be little doubt of its correctness. The

Korean accounts say that the regular army consisted of 160,000 men, that

there was a “body-guard” of 80,000 men, perhaps meaning the personal

body-guard of Hideyoshi, and that there were 1500 heavy armed cavalry.

This says nothing about a reserve force of 60,000 men which is mentioned

by some authorities, and from this we conclude that these did not come

with the main army but waited and came later as reinforcements. The best

Japanese accounts make the total 250,000 while the Korean records say

241,500. Either of these numbers is approximately correct, but the

Japanese accounts divide the estimate differently, saying that the main

army was 150,000 while Hideyoshi’s personal command was 100,000. But

this discrepancy is of course unessential.

As to armament we find that this army was provided with 5000 battle

axes, 100,000 long swords, 100,000 spears, 100,000 short swords, 500,000

daggers, 300,000 firearms large and small, and that there were in the

whole army 50,000 horses.

The flotilla which brought this immense army to the shores of Korea

consisted of between three and four thousand boats. This gives us an

intimation as to the capacity of the boats used in those days. According

to this enumeration each boat carried sixty men. They were probably

undecked, or at most but partially decked, boats of about forty or fifty

feet in length by ten in breadth.

We learn from Japanese sources that the whole fleet did not weigh anchor

from Iki at the same time. Kato, who was in command of one division of

the army, managed to give the rest of the fleet the slip and was away

with his command by night, while his rival Konishi was compelled to wait

several days longer at anchor because of adverse winds. These two men,

Kato and Konishi figure so prominently in the first years of the war

that a word of description is necessary. Kato was an old warrior who had

fought for many years beside the great commander. He was an ardent

Buddhist and a firm believer in the old regime. Konishi on the other

hand was a young and brilliant general who had gained his place not so

much by long and faithful service as by his uncommon skill in military

affairs. He was a convert to Roman Catholicism, having been baptized by

the Portugese missionaries in 1584. He seems to have been a personal

favorite with the great Taiko. It is in the Korean accounts that we find

the statement that Hideyi was made the General-in-chief of all the army

of invasion. From the Japanese accounts which naturally would be

supposed to be more reliable in this matter it would seem that Kato and

Konishi divided between them the honor of supreme command. But we must

remember that Hideyoshi was an old soldier and well acquainted with the

natural jealousies that spring up between officers in an army, and it is

almost inconceivable that he should have put this army in joint command

of two men whom he must have known to be bitter enemies and who would

doubtless work at cross purposes in the peninsula. We incline therefore

to the opinion that the Koreans were right and that there was a nominal

head in the person of Hideyi, but it is quite true that the brunt of the

work fell upon the two rivals, Kato and Konishi.

When day broke on the morning of the thirteenth of the fourth moon of

1592 a dense fog rested on the sea and hid from the eyes of the Koreans

the vast fleet that was working across the straits. Curiously enough,

the commander of the Korean forces in Fusan happened to be hunting that

day on Deer Island at the entrance to the harbor. He was the first to

descry the invading host. Hastening back to the fortifications he

prepared for the worst. Before many hours had passed the Japanese host

had landed, surrounded the fort and poured in upon its doomed defenders

such a destructive fire that it is said the bullets fell like rain. The

garrison fought till their arrows were gone and then fell at their post,

not one escaping.

It would be difficult to overestimate the immense advantage which the

Japanese enjoyed in the possession of firearms, a weapon with which the

Koreans were not acquainted and to whose natural destructiveness as a

machine of war must be added the terror which it naturally inspired. It

was Cortez and the Mexican over again, only in somewhat lesser degree.

What seemed to the Japanese and what has passed down in history as

cowardice can scarcely be called by so strong a term when we consider

that bows and arrows were pitted against muskets and men who were

trained in their use.

Without delay the invaders marched around the bay to the ancient city of

Tong-nă, the remains of whose ancient fortress still greet the eye and

interest the imagination of the traveller. Its prefect, Song Sang-hyŭn,

hurriedly gathered all the town-people and what soldiers he could find.

Gen. Yi Kak, the commander of all the forces in the province, was

approaching from the north; but, hearing of the fate of the garrison of

Fusan, he halted abruptly and said “As commander of all the provincial

forces I must not risk my life in actual battle but must stand outside

where I can direct affairs.” So he turned about and put six miles

between his precious person and the beleaguered town of Tong-nă,

encamping at So-san. The next day the Japanese completed the investment

of the town and prepared to storm the fortress. The brave prefect took

up his position in the upper storey of the great gate of the fortress

where, in accordance with the Korean custom, he beat upon a great drum

and urged on his soldiers in the fight. For eight hours the gallant

defenders fought before the enemy effected an entrance over their dead

bodies. Seeing that all was lost, the prefect called for his official

robes and seated himself in state in the upper gateway. The ruthless

Japanese rushed in and seized him by his garments and attempted to make

him bow before them, but the first one received such a kick in the

stomach that he rolled over on the floor. An instant later the prefect

was struck down by their swords. Just before the enemy entered he had

bitten his finger till the blood came and with it he wrote on his fan

“The duty of a subject to his King comes before that of a son to his

father, so here I die without seeing you again.” This he delivered to a

trusty servant to give to his father. To his trusty friend, Sin Yŭ-go,

he said, “There is no need of your staying here to die, make good your

escape while you can.”

But Sin replied, “I have enjoyed pleasures with you and now I prefer to

suffer with you.” So the two died together. The Japanese general in

command was so impressed with the bravery of this prefect Song Sang-hyŭn

that he had his body decently buried and erected over his grave a wooden

monument on which he wrote “A Loyal Subject,” an epitaph than which none

could be more grateful to a true Korean gentleman. Tradition, which

delights to embellish such accounts, avers that for two years a red

light could be seen glimmering at night above the gate where this man

met his end.

When Gen. Yi Kak, the cautious, and Gen. Pak Hong who was with him,

heard of the fall of Tong-nă, they took to their heels and consequently

their forces did likewise. And here it should be noted that cowardice

evinced itself almost exclusively in the generals and other officers. We

shall find that in almost every instance the soldiers stood by their

officers to the last man.

As the forces of the Japanese moved northward the prefects fled to right

and left. The governor of the province, Kim Su, hearing of the battle at

Tong-nă, advanced toward that place with all the forces at his command,

but his determination seems to have wavered, perhaps on account of the

growing rumors of the prowess of the Japanese; for before he came in

sight of the invading army he turned to the west and south, alarming all

the prefects as he went; and so it is said that this whole portion of

the province was practically depopulated.

When the Japanese arrived at Yŭng-san they found it empty. They swarmed

over Chak-wŭn Pass like ants and filled the plain beyond. Pak Chin the

prefect of Mi-ryang burned all the provisions and arms and fled to the

mountains. Not so with Sŏ Yi-wŭn the prefect of Kim-hă. He stayed inside

his fortress and defied the invaders. The latter could not effect an

entrance until they went and cut down a large field of barley in the

neighborhood, which they tied in bundles and heaped against the wall

till they were able to scale it. Having done his best and failed the

prefect made good his escape. U Pok-yong, prefect of Yong-gung, as in

duty bound, called in his retainers and started to join the banner of

his chief, Yi Kak, whose whereabouts at that time was rather uncertain

as we have already seen. During a halt for dinner two hundred soldiers

from the town of Ha-yang passed them on their way to join the forces of

the governor. U Pok-yong seems to have had so large an opinion of

himself that he was enraged because these soldiers did not dismount when

they passed him. They were of course ignorant of his rank, but he had

them all seized and executed and sent a note to the governor saying that

he had destroyed a band of two hundred robbers. For this meritorious

service he was elevated to the rank of district-general.

Meanwhile Gen. Yi Kak, the provincial general, was flying from place to

place in momentary fear of encountering the enemy. His troops were

disgusted at this, for they had made some rude guns that would throw

pebbles and they thought if they could have a fair chance at the

Japanese they could give them a whipping.

On the seventeenth, four days after the landing of the Japanese, the

startling news reached Seoul. The city was thrown into a sort of panic.

The ministers hastened to the palace to consult about ways and means for

defense. Yi Il was the highest actual field officer in the country. He

was of the third military rank but the two above him were simply the

minister and vice-minister of war and always stayed with the king. Gen.

Yi Il may then be said to have been the General-in-chief of all the

armies of Korea at the time.

There were three main roads leading up from the south to the capital,

any one of which might be chosen by the Japanese. The most direct of

these was the central one leading over the mountain chain at the

celebrated Cho-ryŭng (Pass). Another to the east crossed the mountains

at Chuk-nyŭng (Pass) and a third to the west led through the center of

Ch’ung-ch’ŭng province. To guard these three approaches the king ordered

Gen. Yi Il to go south by the middle road and station a garrison at

Cho-ryŭng, the most important strategic point in the Japanese line of

march. Gen. Pyŭn Keui was to be stationed in charge of this garrison.

The eastern road was to be guarded by Gen. Yu Keuk-nyang and Pyŭn

Eung-sŏng was made prefect of the important southern town of Kyŏng-ju.

All these men were ordered to start for their respective posts

immediately. At a late hour of that same day came the news of the fall

of Fusan, for someone from the summit of a neighboring hill had seen the

red banners of the Japanese swarming over the walls into the doomed

town.

These generals who had been ordered to start in such hot haste were

practically without forces. When the military rolls were looked up it

was found that the army was mostly on paper and that a large majority of

the men were either “sick” or were “in mourning.” So the whole force

that Gen. Yi Il could muster amounted to just three hundred men. Even

these could not be mustered at an hour’s notice, and so in order to obey

the king’s command, the unfortunate general had to start off alone,

trusting that this pitiful handful of men would follow him. The sight of

the General-in-chief of the armies of Korea starting out alone to meet

the mighty army of invasion would be comical were it not so pathetic. Of

course the intention was to gather troops as he went, and we shall see

that he did succeed in getting together at least the semblance of an

army.

The Prime Minister Yu Sŭng-nyong was made Minister of War and charged

with the duty of gathering a competent force to cope with the dreaded

Japanese. Sil Yip was also appointed Vice-minister of War. He seems to

have been specially trusted by the king for the latter gave him a

splendid sword and sent him south with the injunction to kill anyone who

should prove unfaithful, even though it be Gen. Yi Il himself. Here we

see another grievous mistake, in thus giving a man an independent

command over the head of the General-in-chief. It well illustrates a

defect that has brought disaster to many an army—namely the confusing of

authority. As Sil Yip came out from this audience with the king he

slipped on the stone steps and his court hat fell from his head. The

attendants looked upon this with dismay for it was considered an omen of

ill-success. The general went south only eighty li and stopped at

Yong-in.

Kim Sŭng-il whom we will remember as the man who accompanied the

cowardly envoy Whang Yun-gil to Japan and who had so severely censured

him for his craven conduct, was now made commander of all the forces in

the western part of Kyŭng-sang Province. He started for his post

immediately and in a few days arrived at the important town of Chin-ju,

just as the Japanese were approaching. His escort had become somewhat

scattered, but he was not going to take a backward step even to save his

life. Dismounting he seated himself in the official chair having with

him only a corporal and a dozen soldiers. It was a common custom for the

Japanese to wear hideous masks for the purpose of terrifying the

Koreans. On this occasion, when the van of the Japanese army entered the

town it was led by a burly fellow wearing an extremely large and

extremely ugly mask. The corporal strung his bow and let fly a shaft

which pierced the mask and laid its wearer low. His followers beat a

hasty retreat supposing that no one would be shooting arrows about like

that unless there was a considerable force of soldiers in the immediate

vicinity. We are not told as to the fate of the bold general. In this

part of the province the prefects seem to have been made of better stuff

than those further south, for they sent to each other urging the

necessity of standing at their posts and offering whatever resistance

they could to the advance of the enemy.

By this time Gen. Yi Il had collected a considerable force, had crossed

the great Cho-ryŭng (Pass) and was stationed at Sŭng-ju, in the very

path of the invading army. It did not take long to measure his calibre,

for no sooner did the rumor of the approach of the Japanese reach him

than he turned and fled up the pass. This was bad enough, but his next

act was little less than traitorous; he made no attempt to block the

pass, even though a mere handful of men could have held it against

thousands. It was his one great opportunity to distinguish himself and

that he did not improve it speaks as poorly for his generalship as it

does for his patriotism.

Meanwhile an equally reprehensible event was happening in the south.

Governor Kim Su, who had turned aside from meeting the enemy had sent

letters to all the prefects ordering them to have soldiers from all the

districts rendezvous at Tă-gu and await in camp the arrival of generals

from Seoul. The order was obeyed and a large force was congregated at

the appointed place; but day after day passed and no generals came. The

Japanese were sweeping northward and would soon be upon them. Under the

circumstances it should cause little surprise that the camp broke up,

each man returning to his own district. This is but one of many cases

which go to show that in almost every instance the blame rested not on

the soldiers but on the generals and other officers. The soldiers were

always willing to go where the generals would lead them.

When Gen. Yi Il fled in panic over Cho-ryŭng and left it undefended his

followers naturally objected to remaining under the command of a man who

was not only no commander but was a coward to boot. So at last the

doughty general found himself stranded in the town of Sang-ju without a

soldier at his back. He had hoped to find some troops there under the

command of the prefect, Kwŭn Chong-gil. When he found that there were

none he flew into a rage and was about to decapitate the prefect, but

let him off on condition that he find some troops immediately. This the

poor fellow tried to do, but as the whole population was a farming one

not a man could be found who had ever borne arms or who knew anything

about fighting. Nevertheless, to save his head, he got together some

nine hundred raw recruits. At this juncture a messenger came post haste

from Ka-ryŭng saying that the Japanese were coming and were already

near. Gen. Yi replied: “You lie, this is only a scheme to get me to

leave, so that I will not levy any more troops here. Off with his head.”

So off it came. That very night the Japanese encamped at Chang-ch‘ŭn-li

a few miles away, but Gen. Yi knew nothing about it, as he had no

pickets out. The next morning Japanese scouts were seen on the opposite

bank of the river reconnoitering. The Koreans saw these scouts but as

one man had been beheaded for telling of the approach of the Japanese no

one dared to tell the general, and it was not till he heard the firing

of guns that he became aware of the proximity of the foe. Then he rushed

out and formed up his little garrison as best he could behind the

fortifications. Ere long his attention was called to several columns of

smoke arising from the town. He sent some of his aides to discover the

cause but they fell into the hands of the Japanese and were immediately

cut down. When Gen. Yi learned of this he was genuinely alarmed, and his

anxiety was added to by seeing two long files of Japanese deploying to

right and left and rapidly inclosing him and his forces. There was only

one thing to do. Mounting his steed he fled by the only way that was not

already blocked. Being hotly pursued he abandoned his horse and the

greater part of his clothing and fled into the mountains where he

managed to elude his pursuers. In a day or so he appeared at the town of

Mun-gyŭng where he wrote a letter telling of his defeat and sent it to

Seoul. Hearing that Gen. Sil Yip was at Ch‘ung-ju he hastened to that

point and joined him.

Gen. Sil Yip had some time since arrived at his post in Ch‘ung-ju and

had prosecuted his work of collecting soldiers with such zeal that he

had mustered a force of some eight thousand men. It was his intention to

push straight for Cho-ryŭng, the key to the whole situation, but when he

heard of the flight and defeat of Gen. Yi Il he fell back to his strong

position in Ch‘ung-ju. One of his lieutenants, Kim Yŭ-mul, expostulated

with him and said, “We cannot cope with them except in such a place as

Cho-ryŭng where the roughness of the land will be of material aid to

us,” but the general replied, “No, they are infantry and we are cavalry.

If we can once get them into the plain we can use our battle-flails on

them with deadly effect.” One of his captains told him that the Japanese

had already crossed the Cho-ryŭng, and that night he left the camp

secretly and went on a long tour of inspection in order to ascertain

whether this was true. When he came back he ordered the instant

execution of the captain. This midnight expedition speaks well for his

courage and his loyalty.

A few days after the fugitive general, Yi Il, joined the forces of Gen.

Sil Yip, the Japanese forces approached. In order to carry out his pet

scheme of fighting the Japanese in an open plain where his soldiers

could make good use of their battle-flails, Gen. Sil selected a spot

that seemed to him most suitable. It was a great amphitheater made by

high mountains. Along the other side, like the chord of an arc, flowed

the river T‘an-geum da. The only approaches to this plain were two

narrow passages at either end where the mountains came down to the river

bank. In this death trap, then, Gen. Sil drew up his entire command and

awaited the coming of the invaders. It is easy to imagine the glee with

which the Japanese saw this arrangement, for it meant the extermination

of the only army that lay between them and Seoul. Strong detachments

were sent to block the passage at the ends of the plain while the main

body scaled the mountains and came down upon the doomed army as if from

the sky. The spears and swords of the descending legions flashed like

fire while the roar of the musketry made the very earth to tremble. The

result was an almost instantaneous stampede. The Koreans made for the

two narrow exits but found them heavily guarded by the Japanese. They

were now literally between “the devil and the deep blue sea,” for they

had the appalling spectacle of the hideously masked Japanese on the one

hand and the deep waters of the river on the other. The whole army was

driven into the river or mercilessly cut down by the swords of the

Japanese. Gen. Sil Yip himself made a brave stand and killed with his

own hand seventeen of the enemy before he fell. Out of the whole army

only a handful escaped, and among them we are almost sorry to say was

the coward Yi Il who managed to get across the river.

Chapter VI.

News of defeat reaches Seoul.... panic.... divided councils.... lack of

troops.... general exodus.... indescribable confusion.... straw

shoes at a premium.... Princes sent away.... the king leaves

Seoul.... Yi Hang-bok attends the Queen.... riotous citizens....

slaves burn the deeds.... palaces in flames.... royal party

dwindles.... drenching rain.... the king goes without dinner....

welcome relief.... Japanese approach Seoul.... the race between Kato

and Konishi.... no resistance.... the Han left undefended.... an

empty victory.... Hideyi’s quarters.... the Japanese in Seoul....

the king orders the Im-jin River guarded.... the king enters

P‘yŭng-yang.... a coward.... the Im-jin guarded.... the Japanese

impetus checked.

Meanwhile the city of Seoul was waiting breathless for news of a victory

by Gen. Sil Yip. The terrors of the horde of half-savage soldiers from

the islands of Japan had passed from mouth to mouth and all, from the

king to the humblest coolie, knew that Gen. Sil Yip alone stood between

them and that dreaded host. One morning a naked soldier was seen

approaching the South Gate on a run. He bore the marks of battle and as

he passed under the great arch of the gate a hundred hands were

stretched out to greet him and a hundred voices demanded news of the

battle. He cried, “I am one of the followers of Sil Yip and I come to

tell the city that yesterday he fell at the hand of the Japanese. I have

escaped with my life and I am come to tell you that flight is your only

hope.” The people were fearfully agitated. The evil news spread from

mouth to mouth and a great wailing arose from the multitude that

thronged the streets.

It was the last day of the fourth moon and that night the king, not

knowing at what moment the enemy might be thundering at his gates, took

up his quarters in a secluded part of the palace, “The Old Palace” as it

is now called, and gathered about him all his courtiers and officers and

held a great council. The only question was, “Where shall we go?”

Yi San-ha the Minister of War said “The Court should remove to

P‘yŭng-yang,” but Yi Hang-bok, an official who was destined to figure

prominently in the war, said, “It will not be enough to go to

P‘yŭng-yang. We must send and ask aid of China.” On the other hand Kim

Kwi-yŭng and a host of other officials said, “No, the king should stay

right here and defend his capital.” The king himself, after listening to

all that had to be said, agreed with the majority that it would be best

to stay and defend the city. He said, “The ancestral temple with all the

tablets of my illustrious ancestors is here. How can I go and leave

them? Let the Minister of War immediately detail troops to man the

walls.” But it was just here that difficulty arose and it showed clearly

why the Minister of War had counselled flight. The city wall has thirty

thousand battlements and each battlement has three embrasures, but in

the whole city there were only seven thousand troops. This was not a

tenth part the number that would be required to man the walls. This lack

of soldiers was due to the fact that in the long centuries of peace it

had become customary for the government to receive a money equivalent in

place of military service. As a result only the very poorest of the poor

were enrolled in the army, and the service consequently suffered. This

bad custom, while it argues corrupt practices among the officials, does

not prove the absence of courage or faithfulness among the people, and

we shall find that the people were as a rule true to their duty when

they were properly led.

To add to the difficulty of the situation, on that very night there was

an overwhelming exodus of the people. High and low, rich and poor, young

and old, thronged out of the city by every gate and made for some place

of fancied safety in the country. The very warders of the gates fled and

left them wide open. The great bell at Chong-no remained silent that

night for lack of someone to ring it. Very many took refuge in the

palace enclosure and men and women, horses and cattle and goods of all

kinds were mixed together in indescribable confusion. Wailing and

shouting and crying on all sides added to the confusion. The king could

do nothing to quiet the disturbance, so he sat down in his private

apartments attended by two eunuchs. Meanwhile the lawless element among

the people was trying to make capital out of the confusion, and all

night long the palace was being looted by these vicious characters,

while palace women fled half naked and screaming with terror from room

to room.

The king’s relatives all gathered at his doors and begged with tears and

imprecations that he would not go and leave them. An order went forth

from the palace that all the straw shoes and sandals that could be found

should be brought in. When the officials saw these they said to the king

“This great pile of straw shoes looks as if flight was being prepared

for. We had better take them and burn them all and then shut the city

gates so that the people cannot escape and leave the place undefended.”

This advice was probably not followed, for by this time the king himself

began to see that flight would be the only possible plan, and it was

probably at his order that the shoes had been prepared.

Minister Yu Sŭng-nyŭng said, “Let us send the two Princes to the

provinces where they will be safe and let the different governors be

instructed to collect troops and send them on as fast as possible.” This

seemed sound advice and the king’s oldest son, by a concubine, for the

Queen had borne no sons, was sent to the province of Ham-gyŭng, and

Prince Sun-wha went into Kang-wŭn Province.

When night came the king, who saw that it was useless to attempt to hold

the city, sent to the keeper of the Ancestral Temple and ordered him to

send the ancestral tablets on toward P‘yŭng-yang. All night long the

preparations for departure were pushed and just at day break the king

called for his horse and, mounting, rode out the New Gate attended by

his personal following, a host of the officials and a crowd of terrified

citizens who well knew that his going meant perfect anarchy. The Queen

was aided in making her escape by Yi Hang-bok who under cover of the

darkness led her by the light of a torch to the palace gate. She asked

his name and being told she said, “I have to thank you, and I am sorry

to have put you to this trouble.” It is said that he had all along felt

sure the Japanese would enter Seoul and that he had sat for days in his

house refusing food and drink. At the end of that time he roused himself

and called for food. Having eaten he prepared for a long journey and

then went to the palace. One of his favorite concubines followed him and

asked what they were to do at home, but he did not answer. She plucked

him by the sleeve but he drew his sword and cut the sleeve off leaving

it in her hands. He felt that his first duty was at the palace. We have

seen that he did good work there in looking after the welfare of the

Queen. He secured her a chair at the palace gate and they joined the

royal cavalcade on its way northward.

As the king and his escort passed through “Peking Pass” day was breaking

in the east and a last look at the city showed it to be on fire in many

places. The populace had thrown off all restraint and had looted the

treasure houses and the store houses. In one of the latter were kept all

the deeds of the government slaves. Each slave was deeded property, the

same as real estate, and the deeds of the government slaves were

deposited in the Chang-yé-wŭn. At that time there was nominally no lower

middle class at all. Society was composed of the upper class and their

retainers. Almost every man in the lower stratum of society was

nominally the slave of some nobleman though in many places it was a

nominal serfdom only. At the same time the master had the right to sell

them at will and they were in duty bound to assume mourning at his

death. It was this class of people, then, that arose and burned the

store-house which contained the deeds and thereby secured liberty.

Another building contained deeds of all private slaves. This too was

made an objective point the moment the restraint of government was taken

off. They also saw the royal granary in flames where the rice, cloth and

money were stored. The king’s private treasure house inside the palace

grounds was also burning. The Kyŭng-bok Palace, the Chang-dŭk Palace and

the Chang-gyŭng Palace were all in flames. It must have been a

depressing sight to the king and his court but there was no time to

waste in mourning over the desolation in Seoul. No one knew at what

moment the enemy might appear over the southern hills; and so the royal

party pressed on toward the north. When they arrived at Sŭk-ta-ri in the

district of Ko-yang it was raining furiously and by the time they

arrived at Pyŭk-je-yŭk the entire party were dripping wet.

Up to this point the cavalcade had kept together very well but there

were many among them who had not intended to keep on with the royal

party and there were probably many more whose good intentions were so

dampened by the elements that they gave it up. From this point on the

royal escort was much reduced. The king here dismounted, entered a

hostelry and sat down and began to beat upon the ground with his whip

and to weep. As the Ministers gathered around him he said, “What shall

we do in this terrible haste?” Yi Hang-bok answered, “When we get to

Eui-ju, if we find it impossible to stop there we must push on into

China and seek aid from the Emperor.” The king was pleased with this and

said, “That is just what I want to do.” But Yu Sŭng-nyŭng said, “Not so,

for if the king leaves Korean soil the dynasty will be at an end and

Korea will be lost. The soldiers of Ham-gyŭng Province are still to be

heard from and those from Kang-wŭn Province as well; so there is no call

for such talk as this about leaving Korean soil.” He likewise

administered a sharp reproof to Yi Hang-bok who confessed himself to

have been too hasty.

After a short rest they took the road again, ever goaded on by the dread

of pursuit, and as they passed He-eum-nyŭng the rain came down again in

torrents. The palace women were riding horses that were small and weak

and they could go but slowly. The riders went along with their hands

over their faces, weeping and wailing loudly. By the time they reached

the Im-jin River it was dark, and a more wretched company can hardly be

imagined. The horses were up to their knees in mud and were well-nigh

exhausted. All were nearly famished. It was pitchy dark and the party

had become scattered. The case looked about as hopeless as it well

could; but Yi Hang-bok was a man of tremendous energy, and he realised

the gravity of the situation. So halting the cavalcade he dismounted and

managed after great exertions to collect the entire party once more. It

was so dark that it was impossible to think of crossing the river by

ferry, until someone thought of the happy plan of setting fire to some

of the buildings on the bluff beside the stream. By this baleful light

the sorry and bedraggled multitude somehow effected a crossing and from

that point on the fear of pursuit was greatly lessened. By this time

food and rest had become imperative both for man and beast. Those who

had been accustomed to no greater hardship than lolling on divans in

palaces found a ride of thirty miles in the mud and rain, without rest

or nourishment, a severe test. When the cavalcade came at midnight to

the hostlery of Tong-pa-yŭk in the prefecture of P’a-ju they found that

the prefect Hŭ-jin and the prefect of Chang-dan, Ku Hyo-yŭn, had

provided an excellent supper for the king and the Ministers, but before

these worthies could get settled in the apartments provided for them,

the grooms and coolies and others, rendered desperate by hunger, rushed

into the kitchen to find what had been provided for them, and finding

that they had been forgotten they began to help themselves to the food

that had been prepared for the royal table. An attempt was made to stop

them but they were in no mood to be stopped. The result was that the

king and his Ministers went hungry. His Majesty asked for a cup of wine

but none could be found. He asked for a cup of tea but that too had

disappeared. One of the servants of the party happened to have a cake of

Chinese sugar tucked under his head-band. This he drew out and it was

dissolved in some warm water and formed the repast of the king that

night.

In the morning when it became time to resume the journey it was found to

the dismay of all that the coolies had decamped and left the royal party

high and dry. But even while they were discussing this sorry plight the

governor of Whang-hă province and the prefect of Sö-heung appeared on

the scene with two hundred soldiers and fifty or sixty horses. They had

come expressly to escort the king northward, and truly they came in the

very nick of time. They had with them a few measures of barley and this

was doled out to the hungry people. As soon as possible a start was made

and at noon they arrived at Cho-hyŭn-ch’an forty li from Sŭng-do where

they found plenty of food, as the governor had ordered it to be

prepared. This was the second day of the fifth moon. That night they

entered the welcome gates of Song-do, which, almost exactly two

centuries before, had witnessed the overthrow of the Koryŭ dynasty. This

was the first time the royal party could really breathe freely, for they

could be easily warned of the approach of the enemy, now that soldiers

were on the lookout. So it was decided that they should rest a day at

this place.

The king came out and seated himself in the upper story of the South

Gate and all the people gathered before him. He said to them “Now that

this war is upon us, if there is anything that you would say, say on.”

Without hesitation they replied, “This war has been caused by Yi San-han

(one of the Ministers), and by Kim Kong-yang,” (the father of a favorite

concubine). The people were very angry with them. They also said, “You

should recall the Minister Chöng.” This man had been banished because of

factional rivalry. To the latter proposition the king readily assented,

glad probably to find some way to please the populace.

It was on this day, the third of the fifth moon, that the Japanese

entered Seoul.

It will be necessary for us to pause here and note the method of the

Japanese approach to the capital. A glance at the map of Korea shows

that there are three great highways leading up from Fusan to Seoul. One

is the main or middle road leading by Yang-san, Mi-ryang, Ch’ŭng-do,

Tă-gu and soon up the valley of the Nak-tong River, over the great

Cho-ryŭng (Pass). The division led by Konishi came up the peninsula at

double-quick by this road. It was before this division that Gen. Yi Il

had fled. A second road is to the east of this, proceeding by way of

Choa-p‘yŭng, Ul-san, Kyöng-ju, Yong-jin, Sil-yăng, Kun-wi, Pi-on and

Mun-gyŭng. Kato led the division which took this road, but his forces

joined those of Konishi below Cho-ryŭng and the two crossed it together.

The forces of both Kato and Konishi were in the battle which witnessed

the massacre of Sil Yip’s forces in the _cul de sac_ which we have

described. After this battle the two rival leaders again separated and

hastened toward Seoul by different routes. Konishi kept on by the main

road by way of Chuk-san, Yong-in, crossing the Han River just below

Han-gang and entering the city by the South Gate. Kato took a more

easterly road and came via Yŭ-ju and Yang-geun crossing the Han seventy

li above, at Yang-jin. But a third division under Kuroda and other

generals had branched off to the west at the very start. They proceeded

by way of Kim-hă and U-do and then, leaving Kyung-sang Province they

crossed over to Chi-re and Kim-san in Chŭl-la Province. Then crossing

the Ch’u-p’ung Pass they entered Ch’ung-ch’ŭng Province and then made

for Seoul by way of Yong-dong, Ch’ung-ju and so up by the main road.

The reason for the different divisions taking different routes may have

been because of the necessity of obtaining forage, but it was also in

part due to the jealousy which existed between Kato and Konishi, for

each of these men was desirous of getting to Seoul before the other.

This great triple army met with no real resistance on its way to Seoul.

The country was utterly unprepared for war, the principal lack being in

competent leaders rather than in number of troops. It was the first

quick, sharp stroke on the part of the Japanese which seems to have

paralysed the Koreans. The banners of the great host of the invaders

spread out over a thousand li and at intervals of twenty or thirty li

they built fortifications from which they signalled to each other at

night. The only aggressive move on the part of the Koreans up to this

time was the effort of Captain Wŭn Ho to prevent or at least delay the

passage of the Han by Kato’s forces, at Yang-jin, by destroying all the

boats. But the Japanese were not delayed long by this, for the

neighboring hill-sides furnished them with logs for rafts on which they

soon crossed and hastened on to anticipate the troops of Konishi in the

occupation of Seoul.

It was on the fourth day of the fifth moon that the eager forces of

Konishi swept down to the banks of the Han River opposite the town of

Han-gaug. This river is a real barrier to an army unprepared with

pontoon or other boats and the Japanese troops might have been held in

check for some considerable time. But the whole make-up of the Japanese

warrior was calculated to inspire terror, and no sooner did this

countless horde show itself on the opposite shore than Gen. Kim

Myŭng-wŭn, who had been put in charge of the river defenses, came to the

conclusion that he would have more than a mere river between himself and

that gruesome array. He therefore threw all his engines of defense into

the Han and fled with all his following to the Im-jin river, the next

natural barrier between the Japanese and the king. At first thought this

flight of Gen. Kim would seem to be an act of pure cowardice, but when

we remember that he had only a few hundred men under him while on the

opposite bank a hundred thousand men were clamoring for a passage

across, we cannot wonder that he found it necessary to retreat. He did

it in proper style by first destroying his military engines lest they

should fall into the hands of the enemy.

The king before leaving Seoul placed Gen. Yi Yang-wŭn in charge of the

city and its defenses, but when he learned of the flight of Gen. Kim

from the river he rightly judged that the city could not be held by any

such force as was at his command; so he in turn beat a retreat and went

north to the town of Yang-ju. The result was that when the Japanese

succeeded in crossing the river and pushed on to the gates of Seoul they

found only an undefended and half depopulated city of which to take

inglorious possession. It is said that only a few hours elapsed after

the entry of Konishi’s forces before those of Kato hastened in from the

east, disappointed and chagrined to find that they had been beaten in

the race; but they were probably consoled by the fact that long before

the goal had been reached the prize had taken wing.

Hideyi, the General-in-chief of the Japanese forces, took up his

quarters in the Ancestral Temple from which the tablets of the royal

line had been removed. This was looked upon by the Koreans as an act of

sacrilege and queer tales are told of how during that first night, while

the burning of the city was going on, a Japanese soldier would drop dead

every few minutes without visible cause. It is for this reason, as some

say, that Hideyi removed to the Nam-pyul-gung, known as the place where

Chinese embassies have been lodged, and now the site of the Imperial

Altar.

Before many days had elapsed the people found out that the coming of the

Japanese did not mean universal slaughter as they had supposed, and

gradually they returned to their homes in the city. They reopened their

shops and so long as they attended to their own affairs they were

unmolested by the Japanese. Indeed they adapted themselves readily to

the new order of things and drove a lucrative trade with the invaders.

The latter were strict in the watch of the city and no one could go out

or come in without showing a passport. When the Japanese had exhausted

the supplies in Seoul they pushed out into the country and laid the

surrounding villages under contribution. Koreans were even found who

would tell them where they could go with the hope of finding booty, and

acted as guides to them. Among the more loyal citizens a plot was gotten

up to assassinate the guard, but it was betrayed to the enemy and the

plotters were seized and burned to death after indescribable tortures.

It is said so many perished in that holocaust that their collected bones

made a huge mound.

When Gen. Kim Myŭng-wŭn fled from the defenses of the Han and came to

the Im-jin he immediately sent a letter to the king at Song-do telling

him of the arrival of the Japanese, his own retreat and the entry of the

Japanese into Seoul. The king did not censure him, for retreat was the

only way open to him; so a messenger was dispatched ordering him to make

haste and get together as many soldiers of Kyŭng-geui and Whang-hă

Provinces as possible and make a firm stand at the Im-jin River. Gen.

Sin Kil was sent to aid in this work. No sooner were these orders given

than the royal party resumed their journey northward in haste, and at

night they reached the village of Keum-gyo in Keum-ch’ŭn district. Here

the escort of the king bivouacked in the open air. It was discovered

with dismay that the ancestral tablets had been overlooked in the haste

attendant upon the departure from Song-do. So one of the king’s

relatives started back after them and succeeded in bringing the precious

relics on.

On the seventh of the moon the royal party crossed the Tă-dong River and

entered the gates of P’yŭng-yang. Here there was food and drink in

plenty and all the other luxuries of life. For the first time since the

flight began the king enjoyed a season of real rest. The royal cortège

was escorted into the city by the governor, Song Wŭn-siu, who came out

with three thousand troops and met him on the way.

Two days later a messenger was seen approaching at a rapid pace. He was

swiftly ferried across the river and hurried into the king’s presence

where he said, “Yi Yang-wŭn, the defender of Seoul has fled, and the

city is in the possession of the enemy.” The king exclaimed, “This is

bad news indeed, we must appoint someone whose work it shall be to

continually attempt to retake the capital.” He thereupon appointed Gen.

Yu Hong to that arduous and dangerous position. He was to go with three

thousand men and do what he could to stop the progress of the Japanese

and if possible regain control of the capital. Gen. Yu received the

appointment with the worst possible grace. After the headlong flight

with all its hardships and privations, to be told that he must go back

with three thousand men and meet what he supposed was a blood-thirsty

horde of savages was too much for his patriotism; so he stayed in his

rooms and sulked. Two days passed and still he did not start. The king

called him up and said, “How is it that you let the time slip by like

this when you ought to be on the way to Seoul with troops?” The mighty

warrior replied, “I fear Your Majesty will have to excuse me from this

duty as I am suffering from a boil on my leg.” One of the courtiers, Yi

Han-guk took him to task saying, “How is it that after receiving such

favors at the hand of the king you shrink from this duty? You are a

coward and are afraid to go. You are like a sulky dancing-girl who

refuses either to dance or sing. You are not only not brave but you are

not even clever. Do you suppose you can impose on His Majesty with any

such story as this about a boil on your leg?” The king was immensely

pleased with this well merited rebuke and laughed long and loud at the

discomfitted general, but finally said, “Well, then, since our doughty

Gen. Yu cannot go let Gen. Han Eung-in go instead.” The next day Gen.

Han started south with 5000 troops picked from the northern border

guard, and in good time he arrived at the banks of the Im-jin River,

midway between Song-do and Seoul. This was the great strategic position

that must be held at any cost. It was the key to the north, the gate-way

to Whang-hă Province and to P‘yŭng-an Province beyond.

Now that the king and the court were in comparative safety, an attempt

was made to bring together the loose ends of things and make some sort

of headway against the Japanese. Gen. Yi Hang-bok who had so gallantly

escorted the Queen from the palace, the night of the exodus from Seoul

was made Minister of War. A council was called to discuss the demands

made by the people of Song-do in reference to the punishment of certain

officials whom they had accused. The result was that Yi San-ha was

banished to P‘yŭng-ha but the king refused to punish the father of his

favorite concubine.

We notice that the military prowess of the Japanese, their thorough

equipment and their martial spirit took Korea by surprise. It caused a

universal panic, and for the first few weeks it was impossible to get

the soldiers to stand up and fight the enemy, to say nothing of the

generals. The troops and the generals were mutually suspicious of each

other and neither seemed to have any faith in the courage or loyalty of

the other. But now the time had come when the impetuous sweep of the

Japanese was stopped, for the time being, by their occupation of Seoul.

The fall of the capital was looked upon by the king and the people as a

great calamity, but in reality it was the very thing that saved the king

from the necessity of crossing the border and perhaps it saved Peking

itself. If the Japanese had kept up that impetuous, overwhelming rush

with which they came up from Fusan to Seoul, and, instead of stopping at

the capital, had pushed straight for the Yalu River they would have

swept everything before them and would have been knocking at the gates

of Nanking before the sleepy celestials knew that Hideyoshi dreamed of

paying back in kind the haughty summons of Kublai Khan four hundred

years before. The stop at Seoul gave the Korean forces a breathing space

and an opportunity to get into shape to do better work than they had

done. The people came to see that instead of painted devils, as they had

at first appeared, the Japanese were flesh and blood like themselves and

the terror which their fierce aspect at first inspired gradually wore

off and in-so-far lessened the discrepancy between the two combatants.

On the side of the Japanese there was only one favorable factor, their

tremendous fighting power in battle. There they had it all their own

way. But on the other hand they were in a thickly populated and hostile

country, practically cut off from their base of supplies and dependent

entirely upon forage for their sustenance. Under these circumstances

their position was sure to become worse rather than better and the real

strength of the Koreans was sure to show itself. If a Korean regiment

was swept off in battle there were millions from which to recruit, while

every Japanese who fell caused just so much irreparable injury to the

invading army. We shall see that it was the abandonment of the “double

quick” that eventually drove the Japanese back across the straits.

Chapter VII.

Mutual jealousies.... first Korean victory.... successful general

executed.... people disgusted.... another general executed....

operations in the south.... troops mass in Kong-ju.... unfortunate

engagement.... troops scattered.... naval engagement in the south

under Admiral Yi Sun-sin.... a great Japanese defeat.... Japanese

army cut off from reinforcements.... the tortoise boat.... another

naval victory.... and another.... naval campaign closes.... Admiral

Yi is decorated.... the fall of Yŭng-wŭn Fortress.... Japanese

checked at the Im-jin River.... they seemingly prepare to

retreat.... jealousies among the Koreans.... divided counsels....

Koreans cross and attack.... defeated.... Korean army retreats....

the Japanese cross.... Japanese jealousies.... they separate.... the

news of defeat reaches the king.... a trifling Korean victory.... a

great council.... the king decides to go to Ham-heung.

The wretched party strife among the Koreans was the cause of their

weakness. No sooner did a capable man arise than he became the target

for the hatred and jealousy of a hundred rivals, and no trickery or

subterfuge was left untried whereby to have him degraded and disgraced.

A particular incident will illustrate this. Gen. Sin Kak had been

associated with Gen. Kim Myŭng-wŭn in the defenses of the Han River, but

when Gen. Kim fled after throwing into the river the engines of defense,

there was nothing to do but fall back. Gen. Sin retreated to a place of

safety but immediately began collecting troops from Kyŭng-geui Province,

and he was also joined by a contingent from Ham-gyŭng Province. While

the Japanese held Seoul, large bands of them scoured the surrounding

country for booty. One of these bands was trying to make its way across

the hills to Ka-p’yŭng and Ch‘un-ch‘un, and had gotten as far as the Kye

Pass in the town of Yang-ju when they found themselves face to face with

the troops of Gen. Sin Kak. A fierce fight took place, in which the

Japanese, who were probably largely outnumbered, were severely defeated,

leaving sixty heads in the hands of the Koreans. This promised to be the

beginning of a series of such little engagements in which the Japanese

army would be gradually weakened without being able to draw the Koreans

into a large general engagement; the more so because the Japanese were

dependent upon forage for their supplies.

But note the sequel. While all Kyŭng-geui was ringing with the praises

of the successful general and the people were beginning to see that all

was not yet lost, a swift messenger was on his way southward from

P‘yŭng-yang bearing a sword and a letter ordering the instant execution

of the traitor Sin Kak. The alleged reason for this was as follows: When

Gen. Kim fled from the defenses of the Han, in order to cover his

infamy, he wrote a letter to the king accusing Gen. Sin Kak of having

deserted him in his hour of need. Gen. Yu Hong also recognised Gen. Sin

as a powerful rival and so added his prayers to those of Gen. Kim that

the traitor Sin be killed. The king knew no better than to comply with

this request, preferred as it was by two of his leading generals, and

the message of death was sent. But before the day was done came the news

of the defeat of the Japanese by the forces under this same Sin Kak. The

condemned “traitor” had stood up before a Japanese force and had taken

sixty heads. The king was filled with remorse and a swift messenger was

sent to stay the hand of the executioner. He took the road an hour after

the death messenger and arrived at the camp of Gen. Sin Kak an hour

after that loyal man had bowed his head to the axe of his royal master.

Who knows but the feet of the second messenger had been made heavy by

the gold of Sin Kak’s rivals? History is silent as to this but the

suspicion is inevitable. This wanton act was looked upon by the people

with horror and detestation, who saw their first successful champion cut

down in the very hour of his success.

But another sword, this time of pure justice, was also prepared for Gen.

Yi Kak who had fled from before the Japanese at Tong-nă. He made his

appearance at the Im-jin River, doubtless thinking himself safe from

criticism, but in this he was mistaken, for as he was the one who first

set the example of cowardice, he was arrested and put to death.

And now as the Japanese are revelling in Seoul and the king is resting

in P‘yŭng-yang and the Korean generals are busy massing troops at the

Im-jin to dispute the passage of the Japanese, let us turn southward and

witness some of the events that are transpiring there, for we must not

think that the provinces of Chŭl-la and Ch‘ung-ch’ŭng are at peace all

this time.

When the Japanese army separated soon after leaving Tong-nă one army

division under Kuroda swept like a whirlwind westward across the

north-western corner of Chul-la Province and through the entire length

of Ch‘ung-chŭng Province on its way to Seoul. Yi Kwang the governor of

Chŭl-la got together some 8000 men and hastened north to Kong-ju the

capital of Ch‘ung-chŭng Province. Finding there that the king had fled

from Seoul, he gave up all hope of effecting anything and, turning

about, made for the south again. But on the way he was met by Păk

Kwang-ön who upbraided him severely, urging that if the king had fled

northward all the more need of keeping on and offering him whatever

support was possible. The governor humbly confessed that he had been

hasty in his action, and turned about and went back to Kong-ju where he

joined the forces of the governors of Ch‘ung-ch‘ŭng and Kyŭng-sang

Provinces who had arrived at that place. There were also Gen. Yi Ok, the

military governor of Ch‘ung-ch’ŭng, and Gen. Kwak Yŭng, the military

governor of Chŭl-la. Each of the provinces had both a civil and a

military governor. These three civil and two military governors met,

then, in Kong-ju and joined forces. It is commonly reported that they

had between them 100,000 men, but probably about half that figure would

be nearer the truth. They formed a gallant array with their flaunting

banners, and the people of the adjoining districts caught up arms and

came and joined what seemed to them an invincible host. A Japanese force

was found to be intrenched on Puk-du-mun Mountain and Governor Yi Kwang

was for making an immediate attack, but one of his aides said, “We are

now so near Seoul there is no use in turning aside to attack so small a

force. We had better push on to the defense of the Im-jin River.” Păk

Kwang-ön who had upbraided the governor for retiring also said, “The

road is very narrow which leads up to this position of the Japanese and

the woods are very dense. We had better be cautious.” Being opposed thus

the second time was more than his temper could endure, so the governor

ordered Păk bound and whipped. The latter thinking that it was an

imputation on his bravery, after receiving a severe beating, seized his

weapons and rushed headlong up the slope and attacked the Japanese. Many

followed and the engagement became general. From morning till noon it

continued but the Japanese could not be driven out of their strong

position in the woods. The Koreans began to lose in the battle and

finally the Japanese, creeping down toward the Koreans in the underbrush

and grass, suddenly rushed out upon them and cut them down by scores.

Păk and several other notable men fell in the fight, but the main body

of the Korean troops under Governor Yi Kwang moved on to Kwang-gyo

Mountain near the town of Su-wŭn, only eighty li from Seoul. Expecting

that the day would be a busy one, Governor Yi had his soldiers fed very

early in the morning and when day broke, sure enough, there was the

Japanese force ready to engage him, and every few moments one or other

of the Japanese braves would rush out from the lines, brandish his

weapons and challenge the Koreans to come out and fight. So Gen. Sin Ik

of the province of Ch‘ung-ch‘ŭng advanced with his force and engaged the

enemy. In a few moments the superiority of the Japanese arms became

evident. The panic-stricken Koreans fled before them like sheep before

wolves. After an hour’s time this considerable army which was to have

succored the king was thoroughly scattered, but it is probable that many

of the soldiers figured later in the defense of the Im-jin River.

At the same time events were happening further south which were far more

creditable to the Korean arms and which were the forerunner of the final

expulsion of the Japanese from the peninsula.

A fleet of Japanese boats, bringing as is supposed the reserve of 60,000

men, arrived off the island of Ka-dok on the coast of Kyŭng-sang

Province. At that time Admiral Wŭn Kyun had charge of all matters along

the coast of that province. When he saw this vast fleet of ships his

heart sank and without more ado he prepared to scuttle his ships and

flee by land, but fortunately there was good advice at hand, for one of

his staff said, “Do not abandon all hope at once but send and ask Yi

Sun-sin the Admiral of Chŭl-la to come and aid you.” A swift messenger

was sent and the missive was placed in the hands of Admiral Yi. One of

his staff said “No, let him guard his own coast and we will look after

ours. Why should we go and help him?” But Admiral Yi said, “Is not

Kyŭng-sang Province as much the country of our king as Chŭl-la? How can

we refuse to go to his aid?” So eighty boats were gotten ready in haste

and sailed away co the island of Han-san where the two admirals met and

joined forces. The whole fleet sailed out of harbor together and made

for the island of Ok-po where the hostile fleet was moored. As soon as

the enemy hove in sight Admiral Yi Sun-sin made directly for them and

soon was grappling them. The Koreans had the advantage of the wind at

their backs for they shot fire arrows among the boats of the Japanese

and soon had twenty-six of them in flames. It is said the sea was

covered with the wreckage and with struggling human forms. So the

remaining ships of the enemy turned about and crowded on all sail in

flight, but Admiral Yi gave chase and cut down many more and scattered

the rest so that the expedition was an entire failure. This was the

first of this great admiral’s successes and it illustrates the fact that

the Korean warrior was not a coward when well led. The Japanese armies

in Korea were thus cut off from their source of supply and reinforcement

and thus a tremendous blow was dealt them. This victory may be said to

have been the decisive point in the war.

It is probable that the soldiers in the Japanese army had been

accustomed to short though sanguinary campaigns and had spent the

intervals of leisure at home. But now this vast army was quite cut off

from their home and were among strange scenes. It cannot be wondered at

therefore that after time discontent arose in spite of all successes, a

discontent which, combined with other causes, finally drove them back to

Japan.

Tradition says that about this time Admiral Yi had a dream in which a

robed man appeared and cried, “The Japanese are coming.” He arose,

assembled his fleet and sailed forth as far as the town of No-ryang

where he found a large fleet of the enemy. He used the same tactics as

before, burning twelve of them and chasing the rest away. The main

reason for his unparalleled successes on the sea was the possession of a

peculiar war vessel of his own invention and construction. It was called

the Kwi-sŭn or “Tortoise Boat,” from its resemblance to that animal.

There is no doubt that the tortoise furnished the model for the boat.

Its greatest peculiarity was a curved deck of iron plates like the back

of a tortoise, which completely sheltered the fighters and rowers

beneath. In front was a hideous crested head, erect, with wide open

mouth through which arrows and other missiles could be discharged. There

was another opening in the rear and six on either side for the same

purpose. On top of the curved deck there was a narrow walk from stem to

stern and another across the middle from side to side, but every other

part of the back bristled with iron pikes so that an enemy who should

endeavor to board her would find himself immediately impaled upon a

score of spear-heads. This deck, being of iron, rendered the ship

impervious to fire arrows and so the occupants could go into action with

as much security as one of our modern battle ships could go into

engagement with the wooden war vessels of a century ago. In addition to

this, she was built for speed and could easily overtake anything afloat.

This made her doubly formidable, for even flight could net avail the

enemy. She usually did more execution after the flight commenced than

before, for she could overtake and ram them one by one, probably better

than she could handle them when drawn up in line of battle. It is said

that the ribs of this remarkable ship lie in the sand today in the

village of Ko-sŭng on the coast of Kyŭng-sang Province. They are

believed to have been seen there by Lieut. Geo. C. Foulk, U. S. N., in

1884. The people of the town have an annual festival, when they launch a

fleet of boats and sail about the harbor in honor of the great Yi

Sun-sin and his “Tortoise Boat.”

[Illustration: _THE TOMB OF ADMIRAL YI SUN-SIN._]

In the engagement last described the Japanese in their flight were so

terrified by this craft, which pursued them and sank them one by one,

that they stamped their feet and cried out that it was more than of

human workmanship. And indeed it was almost more than the human of that

century, for it anticipated by nearly three hundred years the iron-clad

war ship. In this battle Admiral Yi was wounded in the shoulder but made

no sign. He urged on his men to the very last and finally when they drew

off, weary of slaughter, he bared his shoulder and ordered the bullet to

be cut out.

Having thus brilliantly begun, and perhaps fearing lest, if he should

delay, some jealous rival might induce the king to take off his head, he

pushed straight on to Tang-hang Harbor where he encountered another

fleet, among which was an immense three-decked ship, on which sat the

admiral of the fleet, clad in silk and wearing a golden head-piece. The

intrepid Yi made straight for this craft with his tortoise boat and when

near it called to one of his best marksmen to let fly a shaft at the man

in silks. The arrow flew straight to its mark and pierced the man’s

throat. Seeing the fall of their chief, the whole fleet showed their

rudders and made off as fast as they could go, but with the usual

result. The next day saw Admiral Yi in Pyŭk-hang Harbor where he lay at

anchor while he sent out ships to reconnoitre and find out the position

of the enemy. If anything was seen of the foe, guns were to be fired as

a signal. Ere long the signal shot was heard far out at sea. The fleet

put out in two long divergent lines “like a fish-trap,” as the Koreans

say, and soon on the horizon twenty-six hulls appeared rising and

sinking on the swell. As they neared they entered the two lines of the

Korean fleet and were surrounded. As the result of this fight every one

of the Japanese boats was burned and two hundred heads were taken as

trophies. This remarkable naval campaign closed with the destruction of

a few remaining Japanese boats that were overtaken near Yong-deung

Harbor.

The reputation of Admiral Yi Sun-sin spread over the whole south and his

praises were on every lip. His followers would go anywhere with him and

scarcely seemed to know what fear was. Soon the report of these splendid

victories came to the ears of the king, and though Admiral Yi was not

without detractors at court the king conferred upon him a lofty title.

In the fifth moon the Japanese resumed active operations in the north

and east. A powerful force were sent to the province of Kang-wŭn which

was straightway overrun. The governor, Kim Che-gap, hastily collected

all the soldiers that could be found, together with arms and ammunition,

and went to the almost impregnable fortress of Yŭng-wŭn. The natural

defenses of this place were unexcelled by any in Korea. On three sides

the approach was almost precipitous and a handful of men could hold an

army at bay. Here the governor collected provisions in abundance and dug

a well. Stones were piled on the top of the wall to be thrown down upon

anyone who should attempt to scale the height. The Japanese recognised

the strength of the position and tried to get the governor to surrender

without a struggle. A letter was sent up the steep slope and handed over

the wall. It said “You are doomed. Even if you hold out for two months

you will then be taken. You must come out and surrender at once.” The

only answer was the headless trunk of the Japanese messenger, rolled

down the precipice before the eyes of the invading army. The next day

the assault began. The besiegers swarmed up the sides of the slope, so

that, to use the Korean figure, the mountain-side was clothed with them.

The garrison though only 5000 strong found no difficulty in driving them

back. That night the Koreans, wearied by the labors of the day and

deeming it impossible that the Japanese should try to attack at night up

those steep slopes, failed to set a guard; and in the early morning,

before light, a little band of the enemy worked its way up the face of

the precipice until they reached the base of the wall. A few stones were

displaced until a small aperture was made and the little band effected

an entrance. They rushed into the camp with a terrific yell cutting down

the half-awakened and wholly terrified garrison. The gates were thrown

open and in an hour the victory was complete. Gov. Kim Che-gap refused

to do obeisance and was cut down.