The Manchu tablet.... the inscription.... the Manchu claim to suzerainty
valid.... Japanese proposition.... a contumacious Korean.... other
victims.... spirits of the dead.... Chinese Emperor commiserates
with the king.... introduction of tobacco.... Korean contingent for
the Manchu army.... Koreans secretly aid the Chinese.... Koreans
sent home.... reconstruction.... a Manchu court of inquiry....
Japanese ask for the enlargement of settlement at Fusan.... Prince
Kwang-hă dies.... a plotter punished.... Japanese ancestral
temple.... a Korean betrays to the Manchus the king’s dealings with
China.... the Manchus take revenge.... The Ming dynasty falls.... a
Korean adventurer.... royal hostages return.... quarrel over the
succession.... a curious custom.... palace intrigue.... the new
king.... Korea accused of disloyalty.... the death fetich.... wise
legislation.... Westerners in China.... Hendrik Hamel....
preparations for war.... dress reform
It was during the year 1637 that the stone tablet was set up beside the
road to Nam-han, commemorating the Manchu victory. It had been sent
thither by the Emperor, but was not immediately set up. A Manchu envoy
came to superintend its erection. It is said that there were two stones,
one of which was set up; the other, remaining on the bank of the river,
was finally washed into the stream. The envoy announced that he had come
to erect the monument at the point where the surrender had taken place.
A solid foundation was built, with an ascent of several steps. The stone
was put in place and over it a pavilion was built to protect it from the
weather. On one side the inscription was in Chinese and on the other
side in Manchu. The inscription is as follows:
“The Emperor Ch‘ung Té’ of the Great Ch‘ing Empire, in the twelfth year
of his reign, learned that we had broken our treaty with him and he was
angry. He gathered his forces and entered our territory. He marched
through it, for there was none to say him nay. We, a weak and
insignificant king, fled perforce to Nam-han. Our fear was like that of
one who walks on ice in spring-time. We sojourned there fifty days. Our
soldiers from the east and south fled before the Emperor’s troops. Those
of the north and west hid among their mountains and could lift neither
hand not foot. Famine stared us in the face. If the Emperor had stormed
our fortress then we would have been like the leaves in autumn, or like
hair in flames. But the Emperor did not wish to destroy us. He said
‘Come out and I will be your helper. If not I will destroy you.’
Generals Yonggoldă and Mabudă and other great men were in constant
communication with us. Our councillors, civil and military, assembled,
and we said to them ‘For ten years have we been at peace, and now we
have been blind and foolish to bring all this upon ourselves. Our people
have become like meat or fish beneath the chopping-knife. We alone are
to blame for it all’. The Emperor was patient and did not destroy us
utterly but told us to surrender. How could we refuse, for by so doing
we saved our people. All the courtiers were agreed. With a score of
horsemen we went forth from the fortress to the Emperor’s camp and there
confessed our faults. He treated us with kindness and by his goodness
calmed our agitated minds. When we beheld him our heart went out to him.
The Emperor’s goodness extended even to our courtiers. He then sent us
back to the capital and recalled the Manchu cavalry who were scouring
the south. Our people, who had been scattered like pheasants, now
returned. All things became as they had been. Snow and frost were gone
and spring smiled forth again. After the drought showers fell. All that
had been destroyed revived again. Things that had been broken grew
together. Here beside the Han at San-jun-do where the great Emperor
rested, here is the altar and the enclosure. Here we, a weak king,
through our Minister of Public Works, have made the altar higher and
broader than before and have placed this monument to keep alive in the
minds of generations yet unborn the memory of these events, to show that
the goodness of the Emperor is as high as heaven itself. Not that we
alone have seen it, for all Manchuria as well was witness to it.
Throughout the world that gracious voice cannot be resisted. Though we
write with characters as broad as the very earth and as clear as the sun
and moon we could never describe his greatness and his glory. For such
cause is it written here. Frost and dew are both from heaven. One kills
the other vivifies. Thus it is that the Emperor shows goodness in the
midst of terror. The Emperor came with over 100,000 soldiers. Many of
them were like the tiger and the dragon. Before them, brandishing their
spears, went the savages from the far north and the distant west.
Fearsome men! But the Emperor’s gracious words came down in a letter in
ten lines clear and beautiful, whereby our blinded minds were
enlightened. The Emperor’s words are luminous and precise, and we, a
small king, confessed and surrendered; not so much because we feared his
terror as because we delighted in his graciousness. He treated us
kindly, paying all attention to the ceremonies and the rites. Then we
were glad and laughed, and every weapon sought its sheath. Then we
donned the garment of peace. The people of Seoul, both men and women,
burst into singing and said that the Emperor had given us back to our
palace. The Emperor pitied the distress of the people and encouraged
them to till the fields again. To the dead roots of the tree was brought
back spring-time. This stone is lofty and it stands here at the head of
the river to show forth the Emperor’s goodness to the Sam-han.”
Such was the statement that the Manchus put into the mouth of Korea and
until recent years they have claimed Korea as their vassal state. The
claim originally was perfectly good. Never did a country make herself
more abject in her acceptance of a vassal’s position. And the only line
of argument that can be used to prove that that condition did not hold
till the treaty of Shimonoseki was signed in 1895, is in China’s
occasional disavowal of it, to shield herself from responsibility for
Korea’s acts.
The Japanese had been keeping watch of events that were transpiring
during these troublesome times, and at this juncture an envoy came from
the island empire announcing, as between friends, the name of the new
Japanese year. This letter was not received by the king, who asked what
use it would be to him. The Japanese replied, “You have given up China
and are now a masterless dog. Why is our name not good as any?” It shows
how pride had been crushed out of the Koreans to find that Ch‘oé
Myŭng-gil himself said, “We have done wrong to surrender to the Manchus.
Now let us make friendly advances toward Japan.” From that time on it
was customary to receive politely the annual message from Japan, but
there seems to have been no more _rapport_ between the two countries
than this.
As the Manchu emperor passed north through P‘yŭng-an province he gave
orders to the prefect of Cheung-san to seize and deliver up to him the
person of Hong Ik-han who had been especially virulent in his opposition
to the Manchus. It was done, and the man was carried captive to the
Manchu capital at Sim-yang (Mukden). There he was decently lodged in a
house of detention called the Pyŭl-gwan, until a certain day when he was
called before the emperor, who sat in state surrounded by soldiery.
Being asked why he had opposed the Manchu influence he replied in
writing. “All men within the four seas are brothers but there can be but
one father. From the first the king of Korea acted uprightly and
mannerly. In Korea we have censors who chide and correct him. Last year,
being censor, I heard that you, who held to us the relation of elder
brother, had styled yourself emperor and by so doing had ruptured the
actual relations subsisting between us. From the earliest times we have
owed allegience to China and how could we then advise the king to hold
to a false relation? This is the reason I advised the king to stand out
against you. This war and all its attendant miseries are my work alone
and I would that you might decapitate me ten thousand times.” The
emperor, who seems to have cherished the idea that he had overawed the
man, was thrown into a great rage by this brave avowal and instantly
threw the man into a dismal dungeon where he doubtless starved to death,
for nothing more is heard of him.
The two men who had been delivered up by the king in Nam-han were also
carried north. They were also arraigned before the dreaded chieftain
Yonggoldă who attempted to flatter them into making a complete surrender
to the Manchus and taking up their abode permanently in Manchuria; but
they utterly refused and asked to be killed at once. The Manchu chief
argued, urged and threatened, but the men were not to be moved. Being
ordered to execution they looked the chieftain in the face and cursed
him. Chöng No-gyŭng, an attendant of the Crown Prince, begged for their
bodies that he might carry them back and bury them on Korean soil, but
the favor was not granted.
That summer the people of Seoul and of the country immediately to the
south, were thrown into a panic by the antics of what they call
ch‘ăk-ch‘ăk, a species of imp or demon which appeared nightly in various
places and terrified the people. The Koreans are peculiarly subject to
such hallucinations. They said they were the spirits of those who had
died at the hands of the Manchus and the popular fears were not
alleviated until the king had ordered a monstrous sacrifice in their
behalf at two places near Nam-han, called Ma-heui-ch‘ŭn and Sang-nyŭng.
The king despatched an envoy to China in the ninth moon to inform the
Chinese emperor that he had been forced to surrender, but he assured his
former suzerain that the act was by no means voluntary. To this the
emperor replied in a tone of commiseration, attaching no blame to the
king’s enforced allegiance to the Manchus. He himself was destined ere
long to feel the full weight of the Manchu arm.
We have at this point an account of the first general use of tobacco in
Korea. It is stated that tobacco was first brought to Japan by the
Nam-man or “southern barbarians” and from there was brought to Korea,
thirty years before the date of which we are now writing. It was first
used by a man named Chang Yu who was closely connected with the royal
family, being the father of a Crown Princess. It was called _tam-p‘agwe_
which is the Korean pronunciation of certain Chinese characters which
were used to translate into Chinese the Japanese words for tobacco,
which is _ta-ba-ko_. It is commonly supposed that the Japanese took
their word from the occidentals, but we here have the word embedded in
Korean history back in the very first years of the seventeenth century
before it had even yet firmly established itself in European countries.
It seems almost incredible that the spread of its use should have been
so rapid as to have arrived in Korea within ten years of the beginning
of its common use in Europe, but it may have been so. Portugese traders
came in large numbers to Japan and the fragrant weed was probably
brought by them. At the time of which we are writing, namely the end of
the Manchu invasion, its use had become common. It was supposed to
possess valuable peptic qualities and was recommended especially to
those who ate much meat. The Manchus had become much addicted to the
habit, but so many conflagrations were the result that the Manchu
emperor attempted to interdict its use. It is needless to say that he
failed. When first introduced, it cost ten thousand cash for half a
pound but merchants obtained seed and it soon became common.
In accordance with the demands of the Manchus, the king sent 5,000
troops to accompany them in their invasion of China, but as they arrived
a month later than the set time they were sent back home by the angry
Manchus. Early in the following year, however, Generals Yi Wan and Im
Kyöng-ŭp started with 5,000 troops and joined the Manchu army. The plan
was to attack Teung-nă on the Shantung promontory; whether by land or
sea is not clear, but probably by land. This being known to the Koreans,
three boats were secretly despatched to the threatened place, giving
warning of the attack, and stating that the Koreans joined in the attack
with the Manchus because forced to do so. It was suggested that whenever
feasibly the Chinese and Korean forces should use only blank charges
against each other. This was gladly agreed to and in a battle at
Puk-sin-gu, which followed, not one man was killed among the Chinese
forces that were brought in contact with the Korean contingent, and the
latter suffered as little. The Chinese general managed to get a letter
to the Koreans saying “The emperor reminds you of the vital aid he gave
Korea at the time of the Japanese invasion and he now offers the half of
his kingdom to anyone who will seize and deliver to him the Manchu
general in command.” This reveals in a striking manner the desperate
straits to which the Chinese had been brought by the Manchus. The Korean
generals did not see their way to accede to this but they kept the
Chinese informed of every movement of the Manchus, where they were weak
and where they were strong, where they were likely to attack and where
they might be successfully attacked. In this way the Manchus were
continually thwarted and the Chinese encouraged.
It was proposed that there be a combined Manchu and Korean attack upon
Kon-ju-wi near the point of the Shantung promontory, the Manchus to
attack by land and the Koreans by sea; but the latter said they had no
provisions and their boats were in very bad order. The Manchus replied
“Then you had better go home,” an injunction that they were by no means
loath to obey.
Meanwhile the king had been doing what he could to mitigate the
sufferings consequent upon the invasion. He ordered all the eight
provinces to give rice to help the poor, the widows and the orphans, and
to provide proper burial for those who had no near relatives who could
afford the expense. He likewise gave strong encouragement to the
Confucian School in the capital. He sent spies throughout the land to
discover whether the prefects were attending to their duties well.
Fearing that the guard along the Tu-man River might be suffering, he
made them a grant of 4,000 pieces of cotton. He likewise gave money to
repair the ancient altar on the top of Ma-ri-san (Mountain) on the
island of Kang-wha. This altar is said to have been used by the Tan-gun
two thousand years before Christ, and may well be believed it to be the
oldest monument in Korea.
This period of rest and recuperation was broken in upon by the
appearance, on the northern border, of Manchu troops under Yonggoldă and
Omokdo. Rumors had again reached Manchuria that certain Korean officials
had been advising against the Manchu power. As a result of this, four
prominent officials were sent captive to the north. Early the following
year King Chilga, the emperor’s brother, came to try these men, and held
a proper court at which the Korean Crown Prince was present. Each of the
accused men was brought in turn and questioned, and each had some
plausible excuse to give. The result was sure from the beginning. They
were all condemned and were thrown into a dungeon with a door in the
top, a sort of Black Hole of Calcutta, where they all languished with
cold, hunger and disease. They even excited the pity of their jailors,
and when the Crown Prince plead for them before the emperor, they were
ordered sent to Eui-ju, but heavily guarded.
In 1640 the Japanese who had settled at Fusan complained that the harbor
was too small, for it did not include the whole bay, but only that part
directly in front of the settlement, which was about half way between
the present Japanese town and the Korean town of Pu-san. The harbor was
called Tu-mo Harbor. Consent to the enlargement of the harbor was
refused.
In 1641 Prince Kwang-hă, the deposed and banished wretch, died on the
island of Quelpart. So great is the respect for royalty in the abstract,
in Korea, that the king fasted four days, had the body brought up to
Yang-ju and buried it with royal honors. To the one surviving daughter
the king gave a comfortable house and an annuity.
The next year a seditious movement was made by Ch‘oé Hyo-il of P‘yŭng-an
Province, and two accomplices. They took boat for China, being provided
with funds by the prefect of Eui-ju. Arriving at Teung-nă they joined
the Chinese forces, received commissions in the Chinese army and
despatched a letter to the prefect of Eui-ju asking him to gather a
force and with them make a combined attack upon the Manchus. As fate
would have it the Manchu Yonggoldă was at Eui-ju when this letter
arrived, and it fell into his hands. He immediately sent to the king
demanding the seizure and execution of all the men implicated in the
plot. In spite of the expostulations of the Prime Minister, who wished
to see only the prime movers punished, eleven men in Eui-ju and
elsewhere were seized and met their fate before the palace gate in
Seoul.
That Japan and Korea had not forgotten each other is evinced by the fact
that the Japanese emperor sent to the king asking him to suggest a name
for an ancestral temple that he was erecting. The king declined but
allowed his uncle to do it. The name suggested was “The Illustrious
Place at Il-gwang Mountain.”
One more sacrifice was necessary before the last remnant of opposition
to the Manchus should be extinguished. It was now six years since the
surrender. Soon after that surrender the king had sent to China
explaining that it was a hard fate and not his own inclination which had
forced the surrender from him. Not knowing whether the letter had ever
reached the Chinese capital he sent another letter two years later by a
monk, Tok-po, who had come from China to ascertain whether Korea had
really surrendered or not. Arriving at P’yŭng-yang he had been received
by Gen. Im Kyŭng-ŭp who sent him on to Ch‘oé Myŭng-gil the Prime
Minister. He was handsomely treated and was provided with a new vessel
and a complete outfit of clothes and provisions for the return journey.
He carried a letter from the king stating his excuses as above narrated.
Four years passed and at last in the year under review the emperor’s
answer was forwarded by way of Chefoo. In it he exhonerates Korea from
all blame and mourns the fact that he cannot come to her aid as when the
Japanese invaded the peninsula. The bearer of this missive was feasted
and treated with the most flattering attentions by the governor of
P‘yŭng-an. This would have amounted to nothing had it not been known to
Yi Kyu the prefect of Sŭn-ch‘ŭn who was carrying on trade with China by
junk across the Yellow Sea. He was seized by the Manchus and carried
north. Fearing the worst, he offered to tell his captors an important
secret as the price of his life. He thereupon unfolded the whole
transaction between Seoul and Nanking. The Manchus were furious and sent
a demand to the king for the persons of Ch‘oé Myŭng-gil, Im Kyöng-ŭp, Yi
Kyöng-yo and Yi Myŭng-han, all leading men. There was nothing to do but
comply, and as these men went the king wept and gave Ch‘oé Myŭng-gil 500
ounces of silver for traveling expenses. Arriving at Pong-whang Fortress
beyond the Yalu they were taken in hand by Generals Yonggoldă and
Mabudă. Ch‘oé asserted strongly that he alone was to blame for the whole
transaction. When the emperor had looked over the evidence he sent word
that fines should be accepted from the others, but that Ch‘oé be sent in
a cangue and hand-cuffs to Puk-kwan goal. And there he leaves the stage
of history, on which he had played no mean part. The traitor Yi Kyu
plumed himself on his newly acquired Manchu citizenship and presumed on
his services to write the emperor a memorial under twelve heads; but the
emperor in fine contempt exclaimed that a man who was not true to his
own king must be a rascal at heart and ordered him bound and sent back
to Korea where we may well believe the axe did its work without delay.
The next few years of the reign witnessed the return of many captives
taken by the Japanese during the years of the invasion; they beheld the
promulgation of the law that no one could marry during the three years
of mourning for a parent; also a scourge of cholera so terrible as to
cause the king to send and sacrifice upon the eight high mountains of
Korea. A powerful conspiracy, led by the prime minister, Sim Keui-wŭn,
came near overthrowing the dynasty, but the alarm was given in the very
nick of time and he and his fellow conspirators were seized and
executed.
The twenty-first year of the reign, 1643, beheld the fall of the Ming
dynasty in China. The pretext given by the Manchus for marching on
Nanking was the revolt of Yi Cha-sung who burned Nanking and drove the
emperor to suicide. Then, terrified at his own deed, he fled and the
Manchus stepped in. When Nanking fell, a letter was despatched to Korea
saying “I am the greatest of rulers. You have long been my vassal and I
will now show you a favor by returning your hostage, the Crown Prince.”
A word is necessary as to the fate of Im Kyöng-ŭp, one of the men who
had been sent to Manchuria with Ch‘oé Myŭng-gil. He succeeded in making
his escape before the party reached the Yalu and in the disguise of a
monk made his way in a merchant boat to Teung-nă where he attached
himself to Gen. Whang Chong-ye and made himself very useful. It is said
that he made himself famous by capturing a notorious pirate. He sailed
straight for the island on which the pirate had his headquarters and
having gotten the pirate and his crew drunk with wine he bound and
brought them safely to the Chinese camp. Later he fell into the hands of
the Manchus through treachery but was so steadfast in his refusal to do
obeisance to them that he excited their unbounded admiration, and they
let him go back to Korea. This was an unfortunate move for him, for in
the meantime Kim Cha-jŭm had been recalled from banishment and had
become court favorite. As these men were deadly enemies the returning
general was immediately seized and put to death. This same year saw the
publication of the historical work named the Tong-sa Po-byŭn.
In the following year the Crown Prince and his brother returned from
China but the Crown Prince soon after sickened and died. It had been
customary heretofore for the king and queen to assume mourning for three
years for a Crown Prince but now an innovation was made and thirteen
months was the limit set. Of course the succession fell to the infant
son of the dead prince, but, the wife of prince Pong-im, the second son
of the king, was extremely ambitious to become queen, and so she went
about to gain the desired end. By every means in her power she brought
pressure to bear upon the king to induce him to set aside the infant
prince and nominate her husband as heir to the throne. She was partially
successful and the following year the king called his courtiers together
and consulted as to the advisability of the plan. He urged that the real
heir was but a babe in arms and that he himself was old and about to go
the way of all the earth. It was evident that he desired to put Prince
Pong-im on the throne, and a very animated discussion followed. Most of
the leading ministers and officials argued against the plan saying that
it was contrary to the best traditions of the land and that the people
all looked to the young prince as their future ruler. To all these
arguments the king opposed counter arguments which revealed plainly that
he had already made up his mind as to his course, and that he was merely
seeking for confirmation of his views. Kim Nyu then said, “If the king
has already made up his mind let him speak out and put an end to this
useless discussion.” The king then announced that Prince Pong-im was to
be his successor.
About this time a dangerous rebellion broke out in Kong-ju the capital
of Ch‘ung-ch‘ŭng Province, but by the prompt action of the troops from
the South it was put down. This is worthy of mention only as it
illustrates a curious custom in Korea. On account of this rebellion the
name of Kong ju was for many years changed to Kong-san and the province
of Ch‘ung-ch‘ŭng to that of Hong-ch’ŭng.
The Prince Pong-im, though now by royal edict in full view of the
throne, feared that by some turn of fortune’s wheel he might fall short
of that goal and so he much desired to have the infant prince and his
mother taken from his path. The aged king had entered upon a period of
mental semi-decrepitude and was easily managed by the wife of Prince
Pong-im. Six palace women were accused of poisoning the king’s food and
were summarily put to death. The king then summoned the courtiers and
accused the wife of the deceased Crown Prince of having assumed the
garments of royalty while in Manchuria, of having used disrespectful
language to him on her return and of having instigated the palace women
to poison him. He said she must be killed. All agreed that some positive
proof of guilt must be produced but the king insisted upon her immediate
execution which was accomplished by the use of poison. Her two brothers
were likewise beaten to death. Three of the leading men who had advised
against the nomination of Prince Pong-im were also banished.
The next year passed quietly, but the official corruption had become so
prevalent and the people were ground down by the prefects to such an
extent that the king made the law that each prefect must have three
bondsmen who would be liable to punishment in case of his malfeasance.
The next year saw the introduction on the field of politics of a noted
man, Song Si-ryŭl, who was destined to be a leading spirit for many a
year. He was a celebrated scholar and the king induced him to come to
Seoul only after repeated invitation.
The very last year of his life this king cherished a bitter enmity
toward the Manchu power and in the twenty-seventh year of his reign,
selecting generals and planning to equip an army, he hoped to throw off
the hated yoke; but it was not to be, for in the early summer of 1649
the aged monarch breathed his last and the heir assumed the reins of
power. He is known in history as Hyo-jŭng Ta-wang.
The accession of a new king was the signal for the combined attack of
all the officials upon Kim Cha-jŭm who had been so long the practical
autocrat. He was deposed, but the king would not have him executed,
because of his former services. Song Si-ryŭl also took offense at the
king because of a supposed slight and departed to the country in anger,
after publishing three accusations against him.
The reign began with a storm. Kim Cha-jŭm who had retired to the country
in disgrace, took advantage of the fact that the Japanese had made a
proposition to the prefect of Tong-nă to come over and join the Koreans
in an invasion of China, and sent a detailed account of it to China,
adding that the Korean government was preparing for war and had
discarded the Manchu calendar. This news caused tremendous excitement in
China and the veteran generals Yonggoldă and Mabudă were sent forward to
the Yalu with a powerful force. Six envoys were sent to Seoul one
following the other at intervals of only two days. These six arrived at
Eui-ju, stopped there and sent forward letters demanding what it all
meant. Of course this was like thunder from a clear sky to the court at
Seoul, and Minister Yi Kyöng-sŭk rode in person to Eui-ju and met the
envoys. He invited them to Seoul and after a long discussion and a
present of a thousand ounces of silver and the promise of a princess to
go to China to wed one of the Manchu princes and the banishment of a few
of the officials, it was found that no blame was attached to the king.
Thus began an eventful reign of ten years. The first years were
signalized by severe famines in the north and the government had to
bring large quantities of grain from the south to relieve the suffering.
Corruption had crept even into the system of examinations and it was
found necessary to preserve the incognito of the candidates by having
each one write his name on the margin of his examination paper and than
have this portion of the paper cut off through the middle of a stamp so
that at last when the papers were examined and the successful ones
selected, the writers’ names could not be known until they had been
matched on, and found to fit.
An unsuccessful attempt at rebellion was made by the notorious Kim
Cha-jŭm and Kim Sik, son-in-law to the late king. They persuaded the
latter’s wife to place a fetich under the floor of the king’s sleeping
apartment. This is supposed to bring about the speedy death of the
person so cursed, but someone found it out and divulged the plan. The
three leaders were beheaded, the woman poisoned and her brothers
banished. Some wanted the king to move because the palace had been
defiled by the fetich, which consisted of a dead rat with the king’s
name written on its belly, but it was voted down because it would tend
to confirm the people in their belief in this foolish superstition.
This king inherited much of his father’s hatred of the Manchu power and
we find him building a palace at Kang-wha and storing provisions there
in case of a break in the peaceful relations then existing. He
instituted some useful reforms also, forbidding the cruel practice of
beating criminals to death. He likewise legislated in the interests of
the people when he forbade the exacting of rent for water drawn from the
government reservoirs for their rice fields.
Twenty-two years before this, Kim Hyŭk, one of the envoys to China, had
there met a Westerner who is known in Korean history as Tang-yak-măng.
This was one of the Jesuit priests. He came first to Canton as a
missionary but his great talents were recognized in Nanking and the
emperor called him to the capital and questioned him about his religion,
and employed him as court astronomer. There the Koreans saw the calendar
called Si-hön-yŭk. When the Ming dynasty fell the Manchus urged the
Westerner to remain and they allowed him a regular salary. Kim Hyŭk
brought back a book from Peking which is probably a copy or abstract of
the celebrated book above mentioned. For these twenty-two years a
scholar, Kim Sang-bŭm, had been studying this book, and at last having
mastered its secrets, he came out with a calendar of his own. It is
stated that the Westerners Yi Ma-du and Sa Su-sin had already been many
years in China when Kim Hyŭk visited Nanking. (These are Ricci and
Schaal).
It was discovered that the country people were evading the revenue laws
by cultivating the hill sides above the margin of cultivation set by
law. Commissioners were sent out to remeasure the taxable land and to
set limits to hillside cultivation, for it was feared that the
cultivation of the hillsides would diminish the fuel supply too much. It
was in this same year that the ill-fated sailing vessel Sparwehr sailed
from Holland with Hendrik Hamel as super-cargo. There seem to have been
sixty-four men on board, and when she went to pieces on the island of
Quelpart only thirty-six of them reached shore in safety. They were
taken to Seoul by the authorities and for fourteen years lived, now on
the royal bounty, now by the work of their own hands, and at times they
were even compelled to beg for food. At last however the remnant of them
made good their escape by night and finally reached Nagasaki. Hamel
afterwards wrote an account of his captivity in Korea.
In the year 1654 the hostility of the king toward his suzerain took more
definite shape. He appointed Yi Wan, a brilliant young general, to have
charge of all military matters, and he sent military instructors all
through the south where the great mass of the population lived, to drill
the people in the science of war. He likewise built fortresses at
Sŭng-jin in Ham-gyŭng Province and at Yi-bam-keum-sŭng and at Kyŭk-p‘o
in the south. He appointed four generals to be stationed about Seoul to
guard its approaches, and he collected great quantities of grain, much
of which he massed at Wha-ryang near Chemulpo to be in readiness to ship
to Tientsin when he should invade China. He provisioned Kang-wha
thoroughly and built a monster store-house at Chang-san in Whang-hă
Province, because of the difficulty experienced by the boats in rounding
the exposed point of that province; he founded a school for the training
of military officers and twenty of the best men were detailed for study
there. Any sign of indolence insured a prompt dismissal.
This sovereign was an ardent advocate of dress reform. At first he made
the soldiers wear shorter sleeves and skirts and for the sake of
lightness they were often made of silk. From that he made a more general
application of his ideas. He found the hats too broad of brim and the
flowing sleeves very inconvenient in the breeze. These points were
ordered to be changed and the palace hat as seen today was introduced.
It was first invented by the celebrated Chöng Mong-ju whose blood still
marks the stone bridge at Song-do. It was he too that introduced the
hyŭng-p‘ă or embroidered storks to be worn on the breasts of civil
officers, and the tigers to be worn by military officers.