Transcriber’s Note:
This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects.
Italics are delimited with the ‘_’ character as _italic_.
Errors, when reasonably attributable to the printer, have been
corrected. Please see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for
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THE
HISTORY OF KOREA
HOMER B. HULBERT, A. M., F. R. G. S.
Editor of THE KOREA REVIEW
VOLUME TWO
ILLUSTRATED
SEOUL, 1905.
THE METHODIST PUBLISHING HOUSE
THE HISTORY OF KOREA
VOLUME II
Chapter I.
China’s reply to the Japanese.... the Chinese army.... the Chinese
commander interviews the King.... march on P’yŭng-yang.... Chinese
treachery.... the new year.... Chinese help not all a blessing....
P’yŭng-yang invested.... the Chinese force an entrance.... Japanese
driven to bay.... how they escape.... they retreat.... they mass at
Seoul.... Chinese stop at Song-do.... Koreans bridge the Im-jin....
Chinese retire to P’yŭng-yang.... Korean victory in the north....
great victory at Hăng-ju.... the Japanese sue for peace....
conference on the Han.... Japanese evacuate Seoul.... the terrible
condition of the city.... Chinese enter Seoul.... they prevent
pursuit.... Japanese desecrate a royal tomb.... Chinese accused of
bad faith.... Japanese line of camps.... Chinese reinforced.... the
great battle of Chin-ju.... a loyal dancing-girl.... admiral Yi
still active.... Chinese troops retire.
We must now return to the north and witness the final struggle which was
to begin the Japanese retreat from the whole north. It was not till long
after the fifty days had expired that Gen. Sim Yu-gyŭng returned from
Nanking. The Japanese had sent time and again, asking why he did not
make his appearance, but now on the sixth day of the twelfth moon he
entered the city of P’yŭng-yang, making no excuses for his tardiness but
delivering his message as follows: “I have seen the Emperor and he says
that if you wish to become vassals of China you must first give up all
the territory taken from Korea. You must also give up the two princes
whom you have captured. If you do not see fit to comply with these
demands the Emperor will send a million men and destroy you.” He then
gave to each of the Japanese leaders an ornament for the hat, from the
Emperor. This was a trick to discover how large the Japanese force might
be. It was determined that there must be about 20,000 Japanese troops in
the city. What reply the Japanese gave to the Emperor’s demands is not
told, but that it was a negative one seems sure from what followed.
The Chinese army of counter-invasion lay just beyond the Ya-lu River. It
was an enormous host and, as armies went in those days, it was a
thoroughly efficient one. In connection with this army was an official
who held the rank of “Military Adviser,” by the name of Song
Eung-ch’ang. The office carried no active power in the field but it
seems to have been a sort of check upon the commander-in-chief, for the
duties of the office were to keep the Emperor informed of what was going
on at the seat of war. The actual General-in-chief was Yi Yŭ-song. Under
him were three generals, of the right, left and center respectively. The
General of the Left was Yang Wŭn and under him were Generals Wang
Yŭ-jung, Yi Yŭ-mă, Yi Yo-o, Yang So, Sa Tă-su, Son Su-ryŭm, Yi Ryŭng and
Kal Pong-ha. The General of the Center was Yi Yŭ-băk and under him were
Generals Im Cha-yang, Yi Pang-jin, Ko Ch’ak, Chön Sŭ-jong, Ch’ŭk Keum,
Chu Hong-mo, Pang Si-whi, Ko Seung and Wang Mun. The General of the
Right was Chang Se-jak and under him were Generals Cho Seung-hun, O
Yu-ch’ung, Wang P’il-jŭk, Cho Chi-mok, Chang Eung-ch’ung, Nak Sang-ji,
Chin Pang-ch’ŭl, Kok Su and Yang Sim. The rear guard was under the
command of Gen. Pang Si-ch’an and the engineering corps was commanded by
Generals Yu Whang-sang and Wŭn Whang. The main army was composed of
43,000 troops, while in the rear was a reserve force of 8,000. This army
crossed the Ya-lu on the twenty-fifth of the twelfth moon, the dead of
winter. It is said that when on the march this army stretched along the
road a thousand li (three hundred miles and more) and that the sound of
their drums was continuous along the whole line.
General-in-chief Yi Yŭ-song, dressed in crimson robes and riding in a
crimson chair, arrived in Eui-ju and immediately sought an interview
with the king. The latter said, “I have governed this country badly. The
Emperor has been put to a great deal of trouble on my account and all
these good men have come a long, cold road to fight for us. Though I lay
open my vitals with a sword I cannot repay you all for this kindness.”
Gen. Yi smiled and said, “The Emperor’s might reaches to the heavens.
For the sake of Your Majesty’s happiness we have been sent, and all your
enemies will soon be put to flight.” To this the king rejoined, “Our
nation’s life hangs by a thread, and the result lies with you.” Gen. Yi
raised his two hands in salute and answered, “I am come at the Emperor’s
orders and life or death are all one to me. When I started out my father
said to me, ‘Fight valiantly for Korea and return victorious,’ and so
how can I do less than my best?” The Koreans say that this man’s father
was a native of Eun-san in the province of P’yŭng-an, Korea, but that
for some offence he had fled to China and together with many of his
relatives was enjoying high position under the Emperor.
Gen. Yi started for P’yŭng-yang with his whole army, 80,000 bags of rice
and 20,000 pounds of powder. His troops were not provided with muskets
but they had small cannon. The Japanese on the other hand had muskets
but no cannon. Upon the arrival of the Chinese at An-ju they were met by
the Prime Minister, Yu Sŭng-nyŭng, who laid before Gen. Yi a map showing
the roads leading to P’yŭng-yang. Gen. Yi took red ink and indicated on
the map the various routes by which he intended to lead his forces to
that city. Calling Gen. Sa Tă-su he sent him forward to deceive the
Japanese by saying that a few Chinese had come to effect a peaceful
solution of the difficulty. The Japanese were pleased at this and sent
twenty of their people to meet, as they supposed, Sim Yu-gyŭng at Su-an.
Gen. Sa feasted them there but meanwhile had the place surrounded and in
the midst of the banquet the Japanese were treacherously assaulted and
cut down, only three escaping. From these the Japanese learned of the
hostile intentions of the Chinese and were greatly disturbed, but being
forewarned they put themselves in readiness for an assault.
And so the old year died—the terrible Im-jin year which witnessed the
indescribable horrors of the ruthless invasion which swept it from end
to end; which saw, too, the gradual awakening of the dormant military
spirit of the people, until at its close the wave of invasion had not
only broken and spent itself but had left the remnant of the invaders
cut off from their home land by one of the greatest naval geniuses of
his own or any other age, surrounded on all sides and hemmed in by
forces which though perhaps unable to cope with them in the open field
in a pitched battle could yet harrass and cut them off on every side. It
must be clearly borne in mind that the Chinese did not raise a hand to
help Korea until the invasion virtually collapsed. The Koreans without
the aid of China could probably have starved the Japanese out of
P‘yŭng-yang and driven them southward, cutting them off on the left and
right till they would have been glad to take ship for home. In a sense
the Chinese counter-invasion was an extremely unfortunate thing for
Korea, for the dormant energies of the people were just rousing
themselves to action. Armies were being levied, every day saw the
Japanese forces melting away and there was a magnificent opportunity for
Korea to turn upon her devastators and drive them headlong into the sea.
It would have given a tremendous impulse to patriotism and national
self-respect, and it might have been a stepping-stone to a strong
national life; but the coming of the Chinese soldiery immediately threw
everything into Chinese hands and they reaped all the benefits of the
situation. Even the Koreans themselves did not realize how they were
playing into the hands of China. The Japanese in P‘yŭng-yang were weary
and sick, and at heart glad of any excuse for retreating if it could be
done without too great a loss of dignity. It was at just this moment
that the Koreans put the game, already won, into the hands of China to
reap all the credit and all the prizes of success. The Koreans leaned
back upon China and relapsed into their old self-complacent “fool’s
paradise.”
With the beginning of the new year Gen Yi moved southward toward
P‘yŭng-yang as far as Suk-ch‘ŭn where he intended to halt for the night,
as the winter days were short, but hearing of the massacre at Sun-an and
wishing to give as little time for preparation as possible, pushed on by
night, and in the morning planted his banners before the ancient city of
P‘yŭng-yang. The city was forthwith surrounded. The Japanese could be
seen covering the slope of the hill within the wall with their blue and
white flags, and soon they opened fire on the besiegers. At the same
moment they rushed to the walls and manned them. The Chinese Generals of
the Left, Center and Right were stationed with their respective forces
before the three gates Ch’il-sŭng, Ham-gu and Po-t’ong. The
General-in-chief Yi, with a banner in one hand and a drum-stick in the
other, rode swiftly from one division to another encouraging the men.
His forces could hardly be held in check, they were so eager, in spite
of their long, cold night march, to rush at the wall and scale it. They
were not long kept from their desire, for at eight o’clock word was
given for the whole assaulting force to advance to the wall. The cannon
thundered, the fire-arrows flashed through the air, the very ground
fairly trembled with the noise of battle and the tramp of eager feet.
One of the fire-arrows alighted in the quarters of the Japanese
general-in-chief and it was soon in flames, which rapidly spread to all
the surrounding buildings. The Japanese guarded the walls with the
greatest gallantry, and with spear and arrow, hot water and stones they
made it quite impossible for the Chinese to effect an entrance. The wall
bristled with weapons, so that in the words of a native chronicler it
was “a hedge-hog’s back.” So it happened that the Chinese forces fell
back from the fierce defense of the Japanese. Many of them contemplated
a general retreat and started to leave the field, but Gen. Yi, who was
always found where most needed, saw the defection of his men and,
pursuing them, struck off the heads of a few as an example to the rest.
Then he turned and cried, “Fifty ounces of silver to the first man to
set foot upon the battlements of P’yŭng-yang.” This was doubtless a more
powerful appeal than he could have made had he called upon their
patriotism or love of glory. Immediately the tide of battle turned. A
Chinese captain, Nak Sang-ji, a man well along in years and whose
proportions were so ample that the Korean chronicler says of him that he
weighed a thousand pounds, led on a company of men and by a mighty
effort succeeded in reaching the top of the wall. He held his ground
there while others could scale the wall at his back, and so an entrance
was effected. The Japanese began to desert the wall, and soon the
Chinese entered by the Po-t’ong and Ch’il-sŭng gates, while Korean
allies entered by the Ham-gu Gate. By this time the Japanese had
entirely left the wall and had massed themselves as best they could in
various parts of the city, determined to make a desperate stand. The
Chinese infantry and cavalry both swarmed in on every side and all
Japanese stragglers were cut off, while the fight throughout the city
became general. Before the Japanese could firmly establish themselves
upon the hill and in other defensible parts of the town they lost two
captains, 2,285 men, and 45,002 weapons of various kinds, besides 1,051
Koreans whom they had held as captives.
Many of the Japanese had taken refuge in various government buildings
which they had barricaded as best they could. The Chinese went to work
systematically to burn these down, and in the few hours remaining before
the fall of night nearly half of the entire Japanese force succumbed to
the weapons of Chinese. One instance will suffice to illustrate the
method of procedure. Many of the Japanese had taken refuge in a large
building on the wall, well up on the side of the mountain and looking
directly down upon the waters of the river. Gen. Yi had it surrounded
with piles of wood, the timbers of houses and hewn logs, and these were
set on fire. The entrapped Japanese then had the choice of roasting to
death or leaping down upon the ice of the river. Hundreds chose the
latter alternative, but the ice was not strong enough to stand the
tremendous strain and they were all engulfed in the river and carried
under the ice below. As for those that remained, it is said that the
smell of burning flesh could be discerned a quarter of a mile away.
Gen. Konishi had taken refuge with a large body of troops in a building
called the Yŭn-gwang-jŭng, very near the Ta-dong Gate which opens
directly upon the water front. Night had fallen and the fight had lulled
for a time. What took place at this time may be open to some doubt. The
Korean account says that the Chinese commander sent a message to Konishi
demanding the surrender of his whole force and that Konishi replied,
“Our remaining force is small and we wish to evacuate the city and
retreat if we may be allowed to leave quietly.” It is affirmed that Gen.
Yi consented to this and left the Ta-dong Gate unguarded, and in the
dead of night the Japanese troops passed swiftly out and crossed the
river. On the face of it this statement is hardly credible, but judging
from future events the Koreans believe that Gen. Yi received a large
bribe from the Japanese as the price of this act of leniency. It is true
that future events justified the Koreans in suspecting some such thing,
but as the Japanese were immediately beside the Ta-dong Gate and, under
cover of night, might easily have forced their way out, especially as
the Chinese were exhausted by their long forced march and the fight
about the city, we may well believe that the Japanese did not need to
appeal either to the pity or the avarice of the Chinese in order to
effect their escape. It may be, too, that Gen. Yi did not wish to be
hampered with so many prisoners of war and was rather glad than
otherwise to let them get away. Of course the Koreans who had suffered
so terribly at the hands of the Japanese would have been glad to see
every one of them massacred, and their anger at seeing them escape may
have led them to impute wrong motives to Gen. Yi. Subsequent events,
however, gave some color to these suspicious, as we shall see.
This retreat from P’yŭng-yang in the dead of winter was like Napoleon’s
retreat from Moscow, on a small scale. The Japanese were without
provisions or proper clothing. Many of them threw aside their arms and
luggage and, turning from the main road, begged their way from house to
house. When at last they reached the city of Seoul and found food and
safety they were in a savage humor. Most of the Koreans who had fled
from the capital had now returned, and on them these half-famished and
wholly disappointed Japanese wreaked their vengeance. They seized
hundreds of the unoffending people and put them to the sword. Scores of
them were taken outside the South Gate and slaughtered like oxen.
Gen. Kato, who had led an expedition eastwards into Ham-gyŭng Province,
hearing of the evacuation of P’yŭng-yang, immediately put his troops in
motion and hastened down to Seoul, burning and ravaging as he came. And
in a short time all the remnants of the Japanese army were congregated
in the capital.
The Japanese retreat from P’yŭng-yang was not without its casualties. A
Korean general, Ko On-băk, met a body of the Japanese, probably a part
of the retreating army, at P’a-ju, seventy _li_ out of Seoul, and
punished them severely, taking as it is said, seventy heads; not a great
achievement when we remember that the Japanese were practically unarmed.
But by this time the Chinese Gen. Yi was on his way south from
P’yŭng-yang, rather tardily as the Koreans thought, but hearing of this
engagement of Gen. Ko, he quickened his pace. Coming to He-on Pass, some
seventy _li_ out from Seoul, his horse slipped, throwing him heavily on
his face. He was severely though not dangerously hurt. At that moment a
company of Japanese was sighted on the mountain side and Gen. Yi ordered
instant pursuit. The Japanese, probably a foraging party from Seoul,
closed with them and as the Chinese were on a marshy piece of land,
where they sank to their knees in the mud, and had no other weapons with
them but their swords, the Japanese inflicted severe punishment on them,
killing eighty of their number. Gen. Yi was so weak from loss of blood
that he did not dare to prolong the fight. So he called a retreat and
the next day went into camp at Tong-p’a, a hundred _li_ from Seoul. From
that point he immediately despatched a letter to the Emperor saying:
“There are 20,000 Japanese firmly intrenched in Seoul and with my
present force I dare not attack them. I am also ill and cannot fight. I
would be glad if you would send someone to relieve me of the command.”
Then he retreated fifty _li_ further, to Song-do, in spite of the
earnest entreaties of the Koreans. The Korean General Yi Pin said, “You
came to render aid to our country. Why is it that you now retreat?”
whereupon one of the general’s staff promptly kicked him out of the
house.
Gen. Yi ordered Gen. Sa Tă-su to go and guard the ferry at the Im-jin
river which was now partly frozen but impassable for boats and ordered
the Koreans to go to work building a bridge for the transport of the
Chinese army. Here was a piece of work that might have daunted a better
engineer than the average Korean general. But the way the Koreans went
about it and the brilliant success they achieved show what the Korean
was capable of when really in earnest. And it shows as well how
thoroughly they were determined to see chastisement inflicted upon the
Japanese. A swift broad river partly frozen, no possibility of driving
piles nor of erecting any supports from the bed of the river itself. It
must be a suspension bridge or none at all. On either side of the river
heavy timbers were planted firmly in the ground some twenty feet apart.
Behind these horizontally were laid heavy logs. Then between these
supports on either bank were stretched fifteen heavy strands of the
tough fibrous vine called _chik_ by the Koreans. It is the _pueraria
thunbergiana_. Of course these sagged in mid-stream so that they swept
the water. To remedy this, stout levers were inserted between the
strands and twisted until the cables swung clear of the water by many
feet. The foundation having thus been laid, willow branches were spread
thickly upon the cables and finally a heavy layer of earth was added and
the whole was packed down tight by the treading of many feet. And so was
completed the first suspension bridge which history records. We see that
during this war the Koreans had originated three important things,
namely the iron-clad, the mortar and bomb, and now the suspension
bridge. And on this bridge the whole Chinese army crossed in safety.
But Gen. Yi was tired of the war and was extremely anxious to get back
to China. So when he heard that Kato was crossing the peninsula he said,
“He may come to P’yŭng-yang and in that case I must hasten back to that
place and hold it against him.” So he started back toward that city,
leaving Gen Wang P’il-jŭk in charge of the forces that were advancing on
Seoul.
At this point mention must be made of the victories of Gen. Chöng Mun-bu
in Ham-gyŭng Province. In three successive fights he had defeated a
large, though not the main, body of Japanese and seems to have entirely
cut it off from forming a junction with Gen. Kato as he retreated toward
Seoul with his dwindling though still formidable army. After the
departure of the Japanese, Gen. Chöng went to the far north, even to the
far Tu-man River and inflicted severe punishment on all those who had
aided the Japanese or had sided with them in the betrayal of the two
princes. This done, he pacified the disturbed province as much as he
could and then disbanded the militia and sent them to their homes.
Kwŭn Ryŭl, the governor of Chŭl-la, of whom we have heard before, took
4000 men and marched on Seoul, not by the main road but by way of
Yang-ch’ŭn. Crossing the Han at that point he went into camp at Hăng-ju
and surrounded it with a paling of heavy logs. The Japanese in Seoul
ridiculed it but sent a strong body of troops to attack it. A long
fierce fight ensued and the result was doubtful. At last the Japanese
succeeded in setting fire to the wooden paling and had it not been for
the most strenuous efforts on the part of the Koreans they would have
been burned out. But they succeeded in quenching the flames. When their
arrows were gone their outlook was again apparently hopeless, but in the
very nick of time Admiral Yi Pin of Chŭl-la Province came up the river
by boat with 20,000 arrows and as the camp was immediately on the river
bank the Koreans were saved, and soon the Japanese were driven back.
Kwŭn Ryŭl took the bodies of the Japanese who had fallen, cut them in
pieces and impaled the fragments on the top of the stockade. The next
day the Chinese general Sa Tă-su arrived and, seeing these trophies of
victory, praised Gen. Kwŭn highly and sent him to P’a-ju to guard
against any possible northward movement of the Japanese. At the same
time small companies were sent in all directions to cut off foraging
expeditions of the enemy. In this way the Japanese in Seoul were cut off
from all supply of fuel. The Japanese general who had suffered defeat at
Hăng-ju thirsted for revenge, and he led many a fierce sally from Seoul,
but always with great loss.
In the third month confidence was so far restored in the north that the
king began to think of returning toward the capital. The first stage of
this journey was as far as Yong-yu. At this same time the Japanese sent
a letter to the Korean general Yu Sŭng-nyong saying that they wished to
conclude a treaty of peace. Gen. Yu as in duty bound sent this message
on to the Chinese Gen. Yi in P’yŭng-yang. He in turn despatched Sim
Yu-gyŭng, who had before acted as an emissary of peace between the
Japanese and the Emperor, to take charge of the negotiations and with
instructions more or less definite. When this commissioner arrived in
the vicinity of Seoul a meeting took place between him and the two
Japanese leaders, Konishi and Kato, in mid-stream off the village of
Yong-san. Gen Sim opened the conference by saying, “If you had listened
to my advice in P’yŭng-yang you would have saved yourselves all this
trouble. The Chinese, 40,000 strong, are all about you. They have gone
south to fortify the Cho-ryŭng Pass and thus cut off your retreat. The
Han River is guarded so thoroughly that you cannot cross; Gen. Yi
Yŭ-song is returning from the north with 300,000 fresh troops (an
unblushing lie) and I am prepared to offer you the only possible way of
escape. You must give up the two princes; you must leave the capital and
move south to the coast of Kyŭng-sang Province. Then and not till then
will we conclude peace and the Emperor will recognize your king as his
vassal.” The vanquished invaders saw that there was nothing to do but
comply, and so in the name of the thirty-seven Japanese generals they
engaged to evacuate Seoul on the nineteenth day of the fourth moon. It
was further agreed that they should leave untouched 20,000 bags of rice
which were stored in the government granaries. The two princes were to
accompany the Japanese as far as Fusan and were to be handed over to the
Korean authorities there.
In accordance with their promise, the Japanese evacuated the city on the
very day appointed, and Gen. Yi Yŭ-song, who seems to have recovered his
health rapidly after he found that the Japanese did not mean fight,
entered the city the following day. The condition in which he found
things is almost indescribable. The Ancestral Temple and three palaces
had been burned. Only the Nam-pyŭl-gung, which the invaders had used as
headquarters, was standing. The country all about was lying fallow and a
great famine stared the Koreans in the face. A thousand bags of rice
were hastily brought and made up into soup or gruel, mixed with pine
leaves, and a few of the starving thousands were fed. As Gen. Sa Tă-su
was passing along the street he saw a young child trying to suck milk
from the breast of its dead mother. The sight aroused his compassion and
he carried the child to his quarters and ordered it to be cared for.
Rice was so scarce that a whole piece of cotton cloth could be purchased
with about three quarts of it. A horse cost but three pecks of rice.
Famishing men fought and killed each other, the victors eating the
vanquished, sucking the marrow from the bones and then dying themselves
of surfeit. It is even said that when a drunken Chinese soldier vomited,
half starved men would crawl to the place and fight over the possession
of this horrible substitute for food. This state of things naturally
brought on an epidemic of the native fever, a species of typhus, and the
dead bodies of its victims lay all along the road, the head of one being
pillowed on the breast of another. The dead bodies in and immediately
around Seoul were gathered and piled in a heap outside the Water Mouth
Gate and it is affirmed that the pile was ten feet higher than the wall.
It was on the twentieth of the fourth moon that Gen. Yi entered Seoul.
He took up his quarters in the Nam-pyŭl-gung. He seemed to be in no
haste to pursue the Japanese, so Gen. Yu Sŭng-nyong hinted that as the
Japanese were in full flight it might be well to hurry after them and
cut them down as occasion offered. The Chinese general had no intention
of leaving his comfortable quarters that soon, but he gave consent to
the project of pursuit and detailed 10,000 men under the lead of Gen Yi
Yŭ-băk. A day or so later this doughty warrior returned saying that he
had a pain in the leg. So ended the first attempt at pursuit. Then the
Korean Gen. Kwŭn Ryŭl came in from P’a-ju and urged that there be
immediate pursuit, but for some unexplained reason the Chinese commander
forbade it, and the native accounts even add that he sent secretly and
had the boats on the Han destroyed so as to render pursuit of the
Japanese impossible.
After crossing the Han River, the retreating Japanese seem to have been
in very ill humor, for they did not confine their exhibitions of temper
to the living alone but even attacked the dead. They dug open the royal
tomb at Chung-neung a short distance the other side of the river.
Digging fifteen measures deep they found some rags and a few bones.
These they scattered about on the ground. They then filled in the hole
with rubble. Another royal tomb was opened and the casket and remains
were burned.
In the beginning of the fifth moon a letter arrived from the Military
Commissioner, Song Eung-ch’ang, in P’yŭng-yang, ordering a general
pursuit of the Japanese. The Koreans believe this to have been a mere
blind, for the Japanese had twenty days the start of them and pursuit
was of course out of the question. At this point again the Koreans make
a serious charge against the Chinese, asserting that the Japanese,
before leaving Seoul, sent large sums of money toward P’yŭng-yang for
Gen. Yi Yŭ-song and Song Eung-ch‘ang, and that by this means they
secured immunity from pursuit. The delay was a cause of great wonderment
to the Koreans and it is not unlikely that this theory of a bribe
explained for them most fully the actions of the Chinese. And it must be
confessed that there is little in the temperament or antecedents of the
Chinese on which to base a refutation of the charge. An instance is
cited to bring home the charge. A Korean who had come upon a Japanese
straggler and killed him was severely beaten by order of the Chinese
general in charge.
Finally, when all too late, Gen. Yi made a pretense of pursuit, but
after crossing Cho-ryŭng Pass and still finding himself no nearer the
enemy than before, he turned back and resumed his comfortable quarters
in Seoul. If he thought the Japanese would hasten to take boat and
return to their native land, he was much mistaken. It may be that they
wished to do so, but the terrible punishment that Admiral Yi Sun-sin had
inflicted upon the army of reinforcement made them wary of approaching
the coast, and so the Japanese forces in the south found themselves
practically entrapped. Had the Korean land forces been led at this time
by a man of the skill and bravery of old admiral Yi the country would
have been spared long years of war.
The Japanese in their flight south were brought face to face with this
stern fact, and like the soldiers that they were they set themselves to
solve the problem. They wanted to be near the sea, perhaps with a view
to taking advantage of any opportunity that might present itself of
slipping across to Japan, and yet they were so numerous that, living as
they must on forage, it would be impossible for them all to encamp at
the same place. So they adopted the plan of fortifying a long strip of
the southern coast, reaching from the harbor of So-sang in the district
of Ul-san in Kyŭng-sang Province to Sun-ch‘ŭn in Ch‘ŭl-la Province, a
distance of over two hundred and seventy miles. There were in all
between twenty and thirty camps. Being thus about ten miles apart they
had room for forage and still were near enough each other to render
assistance in case the Koreans or their allies the Chinese should
besiege them at any point. These fortified camps were all of the same
general kind, overlooking the sea from a bluff and on the land side
surrounded by a moat and earthworks. These preparations were made with
the utmost care, for there was no hope of immediate succor and the
Japanese foresaw stirring times.
In course of time the Chinese court was informed of these events and the
success of their generals in the north seems to have given them some
enthusiasm for prosecuting the war; so additional troops were sent to
the front under the command of Generals Yu Chung and Hŭ Kuk-ch‘ŭng.
These troops numbered 5,000 and were from southern China. Among them
there are said to have been many “ocean imps,” or savages from the
southern islands. These men could enter the water, it is said, and
scuttle the enemy’s ships from beneath. We are told that there were also
in this army some men of immense stature who came in carts rather than
on foot. These forces went into camp at Sŭng-ju in Kyŭng-sang Province.
At this place there was also a large Korean army under Generals Kim
Ch‘ŭn-il, Kim Sang-gön, Ch‘oé Kyŭng-whé, Ko Chong-hu, Yang San-do and Yi
Chong-in. Under them were large numbers of militia and raw recruits, and
this accounts in part for the speedy fall of the town and the terrible
slaughter that ensued. The Japanese laid siege to the place and after
nine days, during which time the Japanese made a hundred separate
assaults, the latter were reinforced and the defenders, exhausted by the
long struggle, were finally driven from the wall and the Japanese
effected an entrance. But even after they got in, the Koreans fought
desperately and sold their lives as dearly as possible. Of this most
sanguinary battle only one incident is preserved in the Korean accounts.
When the Japanese entered the city and had advanced to a point on the
wall which overlooks the waters of the Nam-gang (river), a desperate
encounter took place, in the midst of which the Korean general, Yi
Chong-in, seized two of the Japanese about the waist and, dragging them
to the brink of the precipice, threw himself and them into the water
below. Korean accounts say that in this battle the almost incredible
number of 70,000 Koreans were killed and that an equal number of the
Japanese perished. This latter must be an exaggeration, for the loss of
that number must have swept well-nigh the entire Japanese army from the
country. We must remember that the Japanese army had received
practically no reinforcements from the time it first landed on Korean
soil, and it is safe to say that what with the losses by sickness and
accident, together with the thousands who had fallen at the hands of the
Koreans and Chinese, the original force must have dwindled to 150,000 or
less; in which case the loss of 70,000 men must have put them _hors de
combat_ at once. This battle is called the greatest in the whole war, by
the Koreans, though it is not considered the most important.
An interesting story is told of a dancing-girl of this town. When the
Japanese took possession of the place she was appropriated by one of the
Japanese generals. One day while they were feasting in a summer-house on
the wall overlooking the river, she began to weep. He asked her the
reason and she replied, “You have come here and driven away our people
and our king. I do not know whether my sovereign is living, and yet I
sit here and feast. I can hardly claim to be better than the beasts, to
sit here and make merry. I must put an end to my life.” Thereupon she
threw her arms about her paramour and flung herself and him over the
edge, thus ending her weary life and helping to avenge her native land
at the same time. For this reason she was canonized at a later date and
her spirit was worshiped at this place each year by royal edict.
All this time the great Admiral Yi was in camp at Han-san Island off the
coast of Kyŭng-sang Province. His force was not large, but during his
enforced idleness he prepared for future work. He set all his men to
work making salt by evaporating sea water, and by this means he got
together a great store of provisions. Needing barracks for the soldiers,
he offered to the carpenters and workmen about a bag of salt for a day’s
work. His energy and patriotism were so contagious that many worked for
nothing, and the barracks were soon built. At this point the king
conferred upon him the admiralty of the three provinces of
Ch’ung-ch’ŭng, Chŭl-la and Kyŭng-sang.
In the ninth moon the Commissioner Song Eung-ch’ang and Gen Yi Yŭ-song
collected their forces and started back for China. They evidently
considered the back bone of the invasion broken, and so it was; but like
most spinal diseases it was destined to linger on for years before it
came to an end. When these generals set out on their homeward way they
left 10,000 Chinese soldiers in the hands of the Korean generals Yu
Chŭng and O Yu-ch’ang to act as a bodyguard for the king. In spite of
their suspicions of the corruptibility of Gen. Yi Yŭ-song, the Koreans
speak in high terms of him. They describe him as a young man of thirty,
of handsome person, broad mind and possessed of great skill in the art
of war. When he was on the eve of returning to China he bared his head
and showed the Koreans that his hair was already turning gray. He told
them it was because he had worked so hard for them, which piece of
bathos seems to have impressed them deeply.
Chapter I-A.
The King re-enters Seoul.... temporary palace.... a royal lament.... a
profligate prince.... imperial rebuke.... “The Flying General”....
uneasiness in Seoul.... revenue reform.... reforms in the army....
King refuses to make peace with the Japanese.... the Chinese
retire.... plot against Konishi.... Japanese envoy in Nanking....
robbers put down.... a good man ruined.... Japanese trickery.... a
patient envoy.... he absconds.... his flight covered by his
second.... home-sick Japanese.... Konishi sarcastic.... Chinese
envoy in Japan.... Korean envoy.... Japanese army leaves Korea....
prince refuses the crown.... rebellion.... death of a loyal
general.... envoys ill-treated in Japan.... return.... a new
invasion determined upon.... comparison of Japan and Korea....
Japanese scheme to get Admiral Yi into trouble.... Admiral Yi
degraded.... second invasion.... Cho-ryŭng pass fortified....
Chinese give aid.... Admiral Yi’s successor a failure.... great
naval victory for the Japanese.
It was on the fourth day of the tenth moon of the year 1593 that the
king reentered the gates of Seoul after his long hard exile in the
north. But he found the city almost a desert. The palaces were burnt and
the ancestral temple was level with the ground. Under the circumstances
he decided to stop for some time in that part of the city which is
called Chong-dong, the present foreign quarter, near the West Gate. Here
there had been the grave of one of the wives of the founder of the
dynasty, but her body had long ago been disinterred and removed to a
place outside the Northeast Gate. So the king took up his quarters at
the Myŭng-ye-gung. It is the exact spot where the King of Korea lives
today. A considerable tract of land about it was surrounded by a stake
fence with a gate at the east and at the west. This royal residence was
named the Si-ö-sa or “Temporary Residence.” Here the king lived thirteen
years while the palace now known as “The Old Palace” was being built.
The king was desirous of rebuilding on the spot where his palace had
stood before, the Kyöng-bok-kung, but he was told by the geomancers that
that would be an unpropitious site. In order to build the new palace a
tax of half a piece of cotton cloth was levied upon each man throughout
the country. In some cases rice was accepted as a substitute.
After the king had entered the city, one of his first acts was to go to
the site of the ancient Confucian Temple and, standing on the melancholy
spot, utter the following lament: “The spirit of Confucius permeates
space as water permeates the soil beneath our feet. If my faithfulness
is great enough, let the spirit of Confucius rest down upon this spot.”
He noticed that none of the people were in mourning and so ordered that
all those who had lost parents in the war should assume the mourner’s
garb.
At this time a strong faction arose whose wish was to see the king lay
aside his royal prerogative in favor of his son. This prince was a son
by a concubine, for the queen had no children. He was an ambitious but
profligate fellow and had in his heart no loyalty for his father. Some
of the courtiers went so far as to memorialize the King to the effect
that it might add to the contentment of the people if the king should
put the reins of government into the hands of his son. He hesitated to
do this, for he knew the young man and how unfit he was to rule. At the
suggestion of Song Eung-ch‘ang, the emperor sent to the king appointing
the Crown Prince to the governorship of the southern provinces in
conjunction with the Chinese general, Yu Chung. The prince was delighted
at this and hastened to his post at Chŭn-ju. He practically took the
whole jurisdiction of the south out of the hands of the king and even
held the competitive examinations for literary degrees, which was an
exclusively royal prerogative.
Another of the Chinese generals accused the king before the emperor of
effeminacy and love of luxury and suggested that one of the best of the
Korean generals be elevated to the throne in his place, but Gen. Suk
Sŭng, who was very loyal to Korea, induced the emperor merely to send a
letter upbraiding the king for his love of luxury and claiming that this
was the cause of Japanese successes in the peninsula. The letter ended
with an exhortation to arouse himself, work up a competent army, and
complete the work of driving out the Japanese. The envoy bearing this
missive was met at P‘a-ju by Gen. Yu Sŭng-nyong and an escort. The
Chinaman told him that his arrival in Seoul would be the signal for some
very important disclosures. General Yu and Gen. Chŭk conferred together
about this matter and decided that the king must in any event be
prevented from abdicating, for their official heads depended upon his
retention of the reins of power. They also persuaded the envoy to their
view, so that when the king read the letter and declared his intention
to abdicate, the envoy objected that this could not be done until he had
sent a letter to the emperor and obtained his consent.
Meanwhile there was going on in the south a sort of geurilla warfare
against the Japanese. It was led principally by Kim Tŭk-nyŭng, a
self-made man who had the confidence of the prince. This man had put his
whole fortune into the cause and had himself fitted out 5,000 men. His
method was to pass from place to place with great rapidity and strike
the enemy when they were least expecting attack. In this way he earned
from the Japanese the name “The Flying General.” He is said to have been
uniformly successful.
Of another ilk were Song U-jin, Yi Neung-su and Hyŭn Mong. These
gathered about them bands of desperate men and went about the country
looting and burning. In Seoul there was consternation. At any moment one
of these bands might enter the city and work their will. The Crown
Prince, a cause of great uneasiness, was still at Chŭn-ju and for aught
anyone knew he might be plotting the overthrow of the government. In
fact this impression was so strong that the highwaymen dared to write to
him complaining of the king and asserting that they were going to make a
clean sweep. The implication was plain, that they intended to put the
prince upon the throne. The solicitude of the people in Seoul took form
in the rumor that Yi Tă-hyŭng himself, the Minister of War, was in
league with the rebels. For forty successive days this injured minister
went and knelt at the palace gate and begged that the king would have
him executed, as he could not endure the charge of unfaithfulness.
It was customary for the emperor to nominate an heir apparent for the
Korean throne, but at the beginning of this war it had seemed necessary
to appoint one immediately and so the king had informally promised the
prince that he should be king. The latter now demanded that this be
confirmed by the emperor and a messenger was sent to the Chinese court
for that purpose; but as the emperor had no son himself except by a
concubine and was loath to put him on the throne of China, so he was
unwilling to see this prince put on the throne of Korea. The result was
that he sent back a prompt refusal, which for the time dashed the hopes
of the ambitious prince.
It appears that the rebuke which the emperor administered to the king
was in some senses deserved. The king after all his wearisome exile in
the north, probably paid more attention to the pleasures of peace than
was for his own good or the good of the country. If so the rebuke had
its effect, for the king immediately roused himself and set to work
reorganizing the finances of the country and putting the army on a
better working basis. Hitherto the revenue had all been collected in
rice but now he allowed the revenue to be collected in any kind of
produce, and the collection of it was farmed out to various individuals,
a practice which at the time may have had its good points but which at
the same time had within itself very bad possibilities. The
reorganization of the army was a matter of great importance and the king
set himself to it with a will. Heretofore each general had had his own
following and there was no central power nor seat of authority. Each
body of troops followed the caprice of its leader with no reference to
any general plan. Before the Chinese general Yi Yŭ-song left he put into
the hands of the king a book treating of the art of war, a work written
by Ch’ŭk Kye-gwang. This book the king put into use and appointed Cho
Kyŭng and Yu Sŭng-nyong to have charge of the whole matter of military
reorganization. In order to put the new plan into operation a large
number of poor and destitute soldiers were gathered. They had to pass a
physical test which consisted in lifting a rice bag full of earth, and
of leaping over a wall as high as their heads. In ten days two thousand
men were found who endured the test. The drill consisted of three parts,
(1) firing with guns, (2) shooting with bow and arrow, (3) using the
battle axe. In time these men became the royal guard and escort. The
number gradually increased to 10,000, 2,000 being attached to each of
the government departments. The whole force was divided into two parts
and while one part was drilling in the city the other was set to work
farming in the suburbs. In this way they raised the food necessary for
the sustenance of the whole force. The plan was extended to the country,
and teachers were sent to practice the country soldiers. It became a
species of militia. From this time the quality and discipline of the
Korean army improved in a marked degree.
[Illustration: _THE LAUNDRY._]
It appears that the Koreans were not the only ones who suspected Gen. Yi
Yŭ-song of showing favors to the Japanese, for the emperor took notice
of it and deprived him of his high rank. He was supplanted by Gen. Ko
Yang-gyŭm. This new appointee advanced toward the border of Korea as far
as Liao-tung and from that point sent a letter to the king saying that
the Chinese had already lost enough men and treasure in the war and that
the king had better hasten to make friends with the Japanese and induce
them to come and do obeisance to the emperor. It appears plain that this
man wanted peace to be patched up before he should be called upon to do
active work in the field. When the king saw this letter he said, “When
the Crown Prince becomes king he can do as he pleases but as for me I
will never make peace or friendship with the Japanese.” But Yu
Sŭng-nyong urged the helplessness of Korea alone and the need of
securing China’s help at all hazards. Sŭng Hon urged the fact that the
new Chinese general had a large force in hand and he must be conciliated
at any cost. So the king reluctantly sent an envoy to China asking that
overtures of peace be made with the Japanese. Even while this envoy was
on the way, the emperor, apparently thinking the war at an end, sent an
order commanding the immediate return of Gen. Yu Chung, with all his
forces, from the province of Kyŭng-sang. The Crown Prince sent begging
him not to go. The people all about the country were in distress about
it. He was believed to be the only hope against the Japanese. The
command of the emperor however was law and the general was forced to
obey. Taking his army, together with the wives and children of those who
had been married to Korean women, he went back to Liao-tung. It is said
that over 10,000 of the Chinese took back their Korean wives to China,
but six years later they all returned to their native land.
Kato was desirous of meeting and having a talk with the Korean general
Kim Eung-sŭ, the general of Kyŭng-sang Province. To this end he sent a
Japanese named Yo-si-ra to arrange a meeting, and in course of time they
met at the town of Ham-an and had a conference. Kato opened the
conference as follows: “If Korea will help us to become the vassals of
China we will remove all our troops from Korea immediately and we will
also consider it a great favor.” But Gen. Kim, who knew of the enmity
which existed between Kato and Konishi, waved the main question by
asking, “Why is it that you and Konishi cannot agree? It is plain that
so long as he is here such a plan as you recommend cannot be carried
out.” Kato answered, “I have long wished to make an end of him, but can
never get a chance. If in some way we could work up a charge against him
and circulate it among the troops we might be able to get all the army
removed to Japan.” As to the further deliberations of these two men we
are not informed, but we judge from this passing glimpse that Konishi
the younger man was so firmly intrenched in the affection of his troops
that Kato despaired of making head against him until that affection was
in some way alienated. In this Kato acknowledges his virtual defeat at
the hands of his youthful rival.
The emperor was not as anxious as his generals to make peace with the
Japanese, and when he heard that his new appointee to the peninsula was
in favor of a treaty with the invaders he promptly ordered his
retirement, and Gen. Son Kwang was sent to take his place. Hardly had
this happened when the envoy Ho Ok, from the Korean court, arrived,
asking that a treaty be made with the Japanese. When his message was
delivered all the court was in favor of the plan; but the Prime Minister
said that as they had been deceived once by the Japanese general So
Sŭ-bi, who had accompanied Gen. Sim Yu gyăng from Pyŭng-yang on a
similar errand before, it would be well to test them with three
propositions. “(1) We will give the king of Japan the royal investiture.
(2) Every Japanese soldier must leave Korea. (3) The Japanese must
promise never to disturb Korea again.” This plan pleased the emperor and
Gen. So Sŭ-bi was sent for, that he might appear before the emperor and
accept these conditions. On arriving at Peking the Japanese readily
acceded to the terms and exclaimed, “We will gladly agree to this and
will swear by heaven to abide by the terms.” Thereupon Sim Yu-gyăng, who
had always had a strange leaning toward the Japanese, now exclaimed,
“Japan now evidently desires to become China’s vassal. An envoy must be
sent to invest Hideyoshi with the royal insignia, and all this trouble
will end.” But Hŭ Hong-gang had a truer estimate of the visitor and
remarked, “The Japanese are a subtle people, and all this talk of
becoming vassals of China is mere pretense. There is no use in sending
an envoy to Japan.” Gen. Sŭk Sŭng said, “This man seems to be honest in
what he says. Gen. Sim Yu-gyŭng should accompany So Sŭ-bi back to Korea
and there confer with the Japanese leaders and then arrangements can be
made for investing the king of Japan.” The emperor so ordered and at the
same time appointed Yi Chong-sŭng as envoy extraordinary to Japan to
perform the ceremony of investiture. Yang Pang-hyŭng was appointed his
second. These events all occurred in the latter part of the year 1593.
As the new year opened the political sky was dark enough. Not only were
the Japanese intrenched in the south but predatory bands infested the
country and the government troops had all they could do to hold them in
check, let alone any offensive operations against the Japanese. However,
after a hard chase a large band of the miscreants were brought to bay at
Hoe-mun Mountain and cut to pieces. At this time also the king sent
again to Nanking asking that his successor be nominated, but again he
was refused.
The career of Gen. Kim Tŭk-nyŭng whom, as we have seen, the Japanese had
dubbed “The Flying General,” affords us another example of the fatal
weakness of Korea, in the envy excited against any really successful
man; for even while Gen. Kim was successfully combatting the Japanese in
his own way, his very successes aroused the spleen of Gen. Yun Keun-su
who accused him to the king of having killed plenty of Koreans, but
never a Japanese. On the strength of this groundless charge, and without
questioning its truth, the king brought Gen. Kim to Seoul and imprisoned
him a year. And so a man of highest loyalty, of such unselfish
patriotism as to devote the whole of his private fortune to the fitting
out of soldiers to fight his country’s foes, was dragged away from a
successful field of work to languish in prison, simply because a less
successful man begrudged him his fame.
And now began an amusing comedy between the Chinese, who took the
Japanese seriously, and the latter who were merely playing off the
Chinese in order to save time.
In the fourth moon of 1395 the embassy from China to Japan arrived in
Seoul, and immediately Gen. Sim Yu-gyŭng posted southward to see Kato
and tell him that the Chinese embassy had already come and that he must
hasten to get all the Japanese troops out of the country before the
embassy should arrive at Fusan. To all this the wily Kato answered
gravely, “You had better stay here a few weeks while I take a run over
to Japan and ask Hideyoshi about it, and if he gives the order to take
the troops back, it can be done immediately.” When he came back, instead
of answering the main question he said that it would be well for a
Korean to accompany the envoy to Japan. Meanwhile the Chinese envoy Yi
Chong-sŭng, in Seoul, sent messenger after messenger urging the speedy
removal of the Japanese troops from the peninsula; but Kato kept putting
it off on one ground or another, and made no move to go. When, however,
this part of the comedy had proceeded to such a point that the Japanese
began to fear the Chinese would see that it was indeed a comedy, Kato
took a few regiments of men from Ung-ch’ŭn and Kŭ-je and made
preparations as if to depart, meanwhile sending Gen. Sim to Seoul to say
that he was waiting for the envoy and his suite to come south and
accompany the departing army to Japan. Five months had already elapsed
since the envoy had arrived in Seoul, and he therefore determined to
accept this invitation. Moving southward, he came to Nam-wŭn in Chŭl-la
Province where he stopped, fearing to go directly into the Japanese
camp. While there he gained the soubriquet of “frog-eater,” for he was
so fond of the flesh of that reptile that he compelled the people to
hunt for and procure it for him.
Gen. Son Kwang, from his comfortable quarters in Liao-tung, sent him a
letter charging him with cowardice and ordering him to proceed at once
on his way. Under this stimulus he proceeded to Fusan; but Kato would
not come to see him, saying, “I must receive instructions from Japan
before I can take you across the straits, so I will cross once more and
find out the will of my royal master in regard to the matter.” After an
absence of two months he came back and opened another act of the comedy
by asserting that he must first take Gen. Sim across to Japan and
arrange the ceremony of investiture, and that the envoy proper might
follow when all was ready. By this time, what with the fear of the
Japanese and bewilderment at the intricacy of Japanese diplomacy the
poor envoy was well-nigh distraught. When therefore, with the beginning
of the new year 1596 a Chinaman named So Hak-myŭng came from Japan and
informed him that Hideyoshi had not the remotest idea of becoming a
vassal of China and that if the Chinese envoy should cross to Japan he
would never come back again, it capped the climax, and that very night
the wretched envoy, taking only one servant and a few clothes tied up in
a cloth, made his escape from the Japanese camp and fled away northward.
He traveled by night and hid by day, until at last he arrived at Seoul.
And so the curtain drops on another act of the comedy.
When the Japanese found out that the envoy had made his escape they were
in a quandary, fearing lest they might be punished for letting him go
and so spoiling the fun. They therefore gave chase, but not being able
to overtake the light-footed envoy, they contented themselves with
surrounding the house of the vice-envoy Yang Pang-hyŭng. The latter knew
of his chief’s flight, but to draw away suspicion from himself he
pretended to sleep late that morning and claimed to know nothing about
the matter. When at last he was told of it by the Japanese general
Kuroda, he said quietly, “Well, he was a young man and a little nervous.
He should have gone to Japan long ago instead of waiting around here. It
will be of no use for you to chase him.” He then deliberately arose,
went to the room lately occupied by his chief, took possession of the
Emperor’s letter and returned to his own apartments. By his coolness and
presence of mind he allayed the excitement of the Japanese and perhaps
saved his own life.
The Japanese soldiers who had been detailed to return to Japan were of
course delighted to go back to their homes and were eager to set sail
from Fusan. They had their baggage all on board and were hoping to start
at any moment. But when they heard of the flight of the Chinese envoy
they knew there would be a long delay and they were sorely disappointed;
so much so in fact that many of them wept aloud. It is probable that
every Japanese soldier in the peninsula would have been glad of an
opportunity to return to Japan. Only the severe discipline of the
Japanese army and the lack of boats prevented them from deserting in
large numbers; at least we may gather as much from the frequent
references to the home-sickness of the Japanese soldiers.
Yang Pang-hyŭng called the weeping soldiers before him and said, “We
have waited here so long that my chief got tired and went back. But I
remain and the imperial missive is with me. He has fled only to Nam-wŭn
and if you send there you will doubtless find him.” This led them to
believe that their fond hope of returning home would soon be gratified.
All this time the young Konishi, the rival of Kato, sat disdainfully
silent watching the empty game which his unpopular rival was playing
with the Chinese. When he heard of the flight of the envoy he laughed
and said, “I knew he was no genuine envoy from the Emperor, for if he
had been he would not have dared to show his heels like this.” This
remark was intended to imply that while Kato had been trying to hoodwink
the Chinese, they, on the other hand, had hoodwinked him.
Yang Pang-hyŭng lost no time in informing the Emperor of the perfidy of
his chief, and the Emperor immediately ordered the recalcitrant official
to be caught and imprisoned. He raised Yang Pang-hyŭng to the position
of Chief of the Embassy and appointed Sim Yu-gyŭng as his second. We
will remember that Sim Yu-gyŭng had already gone to Japan with Kato,
bearing the imperial gifts, which consisted of a royal robe with the
embroidered design of a dragon, a jade belt, royal head-gear, a map of
China, a book on war and various other kinds of treasures. He there
married the daughter of a Japanese named Arima, and is said by the
Koreans to have become a thorough Japanese. This may have been part of
the game he was playing, and we may see the fruits of it later.
Kato was determined that a Korean envoy should accompany the Chinese one
to Japan and to this end he told one of the Korean officials, “If a
Korean envoy does not accompany the Chinese embassy to Japan the peace
will be only between Japan and China, and Korea will have no part in it.
This will lead to grave troubles.” Gen. Sim also sent his nephew back
from Japan to ask that a Korean envoy accompany the Chinese embassy. So
the king appointed two men, Whang Sin and Pak Hong-jang to this work,
conferring upon them the title of T’ong-sin-sa or “Faithful Messenger.”
In the fifth moon of this year 1596 Gen. Konishi massed his troops in
forty-six regiments on the southern coast and, leaving only four
regiments to guard Fusan, set sail for Japan. With him went all the
envoys, both Chinese and Korean.
Now that lasting peace seemed to be assured, the king no longer
hesitated to hand over the reins of power to the Crown Prince. He
accordingly sent the royal insignia south to him, and so doffed the
responsibilities as well as the prerogatives of royalty. But, strange to
say, the prince strenuously refused to accept them, insisting that he
had no desire to take the scepter from his father’s hand. Seven times he
sent to his father protesting his unwillingness to have the honor thrust
upon him. But the king would not listen. It was only after the courtiers
had assembled before the palace for twenty days in succession and
besought him to retain the scepter that they finally prevailed and he
consented to continue in the exercise of the royal prerogative.
Yi Mong-hak, an unprincipled ruffian, ignorant but ambitious, had joined
the forces of Gen. Han Hyŭn and had fought during the war. Now he
started out on an independent line. Gathering a force of over ten
thousand men he attacked and took Hong-san in Ch‘ung-ch‘ŭng Province,
and he followed it up by taking Im-ch‘ŭn, Ch‘ung-yang, Chöng-san and
Hong-ju. Yi Mong-hak had been deceiving his followers by saying that
Gen. Kim Tŭk-nyang was interested in this scheme. But now they found
that this same Gen. Kim was arrayed against them and they saw they had
been duped. That night every man deserted the adventurer and the next
day he fell into the hands of the loyal troops and his head was
forwarded to Seoul. This shows the extremely unsettled state of the
country, and how any unprincipled man with money and effrontery could
offer serious opposition to the government.
Here again we find a striking example of that petty jealousy which
deprived Korea of most of her capable men. This Gen. Kim Tŭk-nyŭng was a
celebrated man. He was known throughout the Korean army for his strength
and prowess. It is said of him that single-handed he would attack a
tiger and pin it to the ground with a spear. They also say that he rode
into battle with an iron mace of a hundred pounds weight in each hand
and he gave the Japanese so many hard knocks that they gave him the
name, “The General from under the Rock.” The ministers at Seoul were
suspicious of his rising fame and went their ways to have him dragged
down. They charged him with having been in league with Yi Mong-hak and
won the king over. He was arrested and brought to Seoul, where after a
most disgraceful trial he was put to death. The Japanese had such a high
opinion of this man’s parts that Konishi sent and had a portrait made of
him. When he saw the picture he exclaimed, “This man is indeed a
General.” When his death was announced, the Japanese held a great feast
in honor of the event. This was just on the eve of their departure for
home.
As we have seen, it was in the summer of 1596 that the Chinese and
Korean envoys crossed to Japan with the returning army of invasion. When
they were brought into the presence of Hideyoshi he treated them with
scant courtesy. When asked why he did not bow before the imperial
missive he replied that he had a sore leg and could not. He treated the
Korean envoy much worse than the Chinese, and said to him, “I sent back
the two princes as I agreed, but your king never so much as thanked me.
He has now sent as envoy a man of inferior rank on purpose to insult me.
I believe the original Chinese envoy ran away at the instigation of your
king. I will treat the Chinese envoy civilly, but as for you I shall
send another army and be avenged on you.” After this there was but one
thing to do. Both the envoys packed up their effects and started back
home. When the Chinese envoy arrived at Nanking bringing insult instead
of submission from Japan the Emperor was in a terrible rage and charged
Sim Yu-gyŭng with having betrayed his country. The chief envoy was
executed and the official who had advised the sending of an embassy was
thrown into prison and starved to death, but Sim Yu-gyŭng in some way
escaped with his head.