THE FRENCH EXPEDITION.
The preliminaries of the French expedition to Corea in 1866 may be
gathered from the letters which passed between the French chargé
d’affairs at Peking and Prince Kung, the Chinese premier, as published
in the United States Diplomatic Correspondence, 1867–68. [35] The
pyrotechnic bombast of the Frenchman may be best understood by
remembering that he lived in the palmy days of Louis Napoleon and the
third empire. His violent language and behavior may be contrasted with
the calm demeanor and firm temper of the astute Chinaman, the greatest
of the diplomats of the Middle Kingdom.
“Unfortunately for the interests of his country, M. H. Bellonet had
carried into diplomacy the rude customs and unmeasured language of the
African Zouaves, in whose ranks he had served at one period of his
career.”
The best commentary upon this boast of an irate underling, dressed in
the brief authority of his superior, will be found in the events of the
expedition, notably in the reduction to ashes of the city of Kang-wa,
which rendered 10,000 people homeless, and in the repulse of the
reckless invaders even before Bellonet at Peking was settling the fate
of the king.
With Bishop Ridel as interpreter, and three of his converts as pilots,
three vessels were sent to explore the Han River. Equipped with charts
made by Captain James of the Emperor, who had examined the western
entrance one month before, the despatch-boat Déroulède leaving her
consorts in Prince Jerome Gulf, steamed up the river on September 21st,
as far as the narrows between Kang-wa and the mainland. The French
officers were charmed with the beauty of the autumnal scenery. On the
cultivated plain, checkered into a thousand squares of tiny
rice-fields, all well irrigated, the golden-tinted grain, now full
ripe, awaited the sickle and the sheaf-binder. Numerous villages dotted
the landscape, and to the northwest rose the green hills on which sat,
like a queen, the city of Kang-wa. A number of forts, as yet unmounted
with cannon, were already built. Others, in process of construction,
were rising on well-chosen sites commanding the river. No garrison or a
single soldier was as yet seen. The simple villagers, at first
frightened at the sight of a mighty black ship, moving up the river
against a strong current without sails or oars, collected in crowds
along the banks to see this fire-pulsing monster from the western
ocean.
On the 23d the Déroulède and Tardif, leaving the Primauguet at Boisée
(Woody) Island, moved up the Han River to the capital, the Corean
pilots at the bow, and Ridel with the men at the wheel. One or two
forts fired on the vessels as they steamed along, and in one place a
fleet of junks gathered to dispute their passage. A well-aimed shot
sunk two of the crazy craft, and a bombshell dropped among the
artillerists in the redoubt silenced it at once. The rocks were safely
avoided, and on the evening of the 25th, the two ships cast anchor, and
the flag of France floated in front of the Corean capital. The hills
environing the city and every point of view were white with gazing
thousands, who for the first time saw a vessel moving under steam.
The ships remained abreast of the city several days, the officers
taking soundings and measurements, computing heights and making plans.
M. Ridel went on shore in hopes of finding a Christian and hearing some
news, but none dared to approach him.
While the French remained in the river, not a bag of rice nor a fagot
of wood entered Seoul. Eight days of such terror, and a famine would
have raged in the city. Seven thousand houses were deserted by their
occupants.
Returning to Boisée Island, having surveyed the river, two converts
came on board. They informed Ridel of the burning of a “European” ship
[the General Sherman] at Ping-an, the renewal of the persecution, and
the order that Christians should be put to death without waiting for
instructions from Seoul. Ridel in vain urged Admiral Roze to remain
with his fleet, in order to intimidate the government. Sailing away,
the ships arrived at Chifu, October 3d.
Tai-wen kun, now thoroughly alarmed, began to stir up the country to
defense. The military forces in every province were called out. Every
scrap of iron was collected, and the forges and blacksmith shops were
busy day and night in making arms of every known kind; even the
farmer’s tools were altered into pikes and sabres. Loaded junks were
sunk in the channel of the Han to obstruct it Through the Japanese at
Fusan, and the daimiō of Tsushima, word was sent to the Tycoon of
Japan, informing him of his straits, and begging for assistance. The
Yedo government, being at that time in great straits between the
pressure of foreigners on one hand, and of the “mikado-reverencers” on
the other, could not then, had it been right to do so, afford any
military assistance against the French, with whom a treaty had been
made. Instead of this, two commissioners were appointed to go to Seoul,
and recommend that Chō-sen open her ports to foreign commerce, as Japan
had done, and thus choose peace instead of war with foreigners. Before
the envoys could leave Japan, the Tycoon had died, and the next year
Japan was in the throes of civil war, the shō-gunate was abolished, and
Corea was for the time utterly forgotten.
The object of the French expedition and the blockade of the Salée (Han)
River were duly announced from the French legation in China to the
Chinese and foreign representatives in Peking. Without waiting to hear
from his government at home, Bellonet despatched the fleet and made war
on his own responsibility. The squadron which sailed October 11th, to
distribute thrones and decapitate prime ministers, consisted of the
frigate Guerrière, the corvettes Laplace and Primauguet, the
despatch-vessels Déroulède and Kien-chan, and the gunboats Tardif and
Lebrethon, with 600 soldiers, including a detachment of 400 marines
from the camp at Yokohama.
One would have thought 600 men rather too small a force to root up
thrones with, seeing that the days of Cortez and Pizarro were past. The
Coreans were not like the Mexicans, who thought a horse and his rider
were one animal. They had smelt powder and fought tigers.
On October 13th the admiral cast anchor off Boisée Island. The next day
the gunboats steamed up the river, landing the marines in camp, a
little over half a mile from the city. On the 15th, before any attempt
was made to communicate with the government, a reconnoissance was made
in force, toward Kang-hoa (Kang-wa), during which a small fort,
mounting two guns, was captured.
Kang-wa was, to a modern eye, probably one of the best fortified cities
in the kingdom. It was surrounded by a crenelated wall, nearly fifteen
feet high! Behind this defense the native soldiery stood ready with
flails, arrows, matchlocks, and jingals.
The royal residence, for pleasure in summer, and refuge in war-time,
was beautifully situated on a wooded hill, from which a glorious view
of the island, sea, and mainland was visible. The fertile island itself
lay like a green emerald upon a greener sea. Crops of rice, barley,
tobacco, sorghum, maize, various root foods, Chinese cabbage,
chestnuts, persimmons, with here and there a great camellia tree just
entering into bloom, greeted the view of the invaders. Kang-wa was well
named “The Flower of the River.”
At eight o’clock on the morning of October 16th an attack was made in
force on the main gate. At the distance of one hundred yards, the
infantry charged on a run, to the cry of “Vive l’Empereur.” The hot
fire of the jingals checked them not a moment. Reaching the wall, they
set up the scaling ladders, and in a few moments hundreds of Frenchmen
were inside, shooting down the flying white-coats, or engaging in a
hand to hand encounter, though only a few natives were killed. The gate
was soon crushed in with axes, and the main body entered easily. Firing
was soon over, and the deserted city was in the victors’ hands. About
eighty bronze and iron cannon, mostly of very small calibre, over six
thousand matchlocks, and the official archives of the city were found
and made trophies of.
Kang-wa was the military headquarters for western Corea and the chief
place of gunpowder manufacture. Large magazines of food supplies had
been collected in it. Eighteen boxes of silver, containing ingots to
the value of nearly thirty eight thousand dollars, and a great many
books and manuscripts were found, besides spoil of many kinds from the
shops and houses. Immense stores of bows and arrows, iron sabres
without scabbards, helmets, and breastplates, beautifully wrought, but
very heavy and clumsy, were found.
The cannon had no carriages, but were fastened to logs or fixed
platforms. They were breech-loaders, in that the powder, fixed in an
iron cartridge, was introduced at the breech, while the ball seemed to
be put in simultaneously at the muzzle. These double-ended cannon
reminded one of a tortoise. A curious or rather comical thing about
these cannon was that many of them had several touch-holes in a row,
the cannonier firing them by applying his match rapidly along the line
of vents—an “accelerating gun,” of a rude kind. The Corean gunpowder is
said to burn so slowly that a charge has to be lighted at both ends—a
type of the national policy.
As the Coreans were fortifying Tong-chin with unusual care, the admiral
sent out, October 26th, a reconnoitering party of one hundred and
twenty men, who were landed on the mainland, opposite Kang-wa Island,
whence the high road runs direct to the capital. Here was a village,
with fortifications clustered around a great gate, having a pointed
stone arch surmounted by the figure of a tortoise and a pagoda. To
force this gate was to win the way to the capital.
As the marines were disembarking, the Coreans poured in a heavy fire,
which killed two and wounded twenty-five Frenchmen. Nevertheless the
place was stormed and seized, but as the Corean forces were gathering
in the vicinity, the marines returned to the ships to await
reinforcements.
Toward evening a party of Coreans defiled at the foot of the plain in
gallant array, evidently elated with supposed victory. Suddenly, as
they came within range, the French ships opened on them with shell,
which exploded among them.
Terrified at such unknown war missiles, they broke and fled to the
hill-tops, where, to their surprise, they were again enveloped in a
shower of iron. Finally they had to take shelter in the distant ravines
and the far plains, which at night were illumined by their bivouac
fires.
Weak men and nations, in fighting against stronger enemies, must, like
the weaker ones in the brute creation, resort to cunning. They try to
weary out what they cannot overcome. The Coreans, even before rifled
cannon and steamers, began to play the same old tricks practised in the
war with the Japanese in the sixteenth century. They made hundreds of
literal “men of straw,” and stuck them within range of the enemy’s
artillery, that the Frenchmen might vainly expend their powder and
iron. The keen-eyed Frenchmen, aided by their glasses, detected the
cheat, and wasted no shot on the mannikins.
Meanwhile the invaded nation was roused to a white heat of wrath. The
furnace of persecution and the forges of the armorers were alike heated
to their utmost. Earnest hands plied with rivalling diligence the
torture and the sledge. In the capital it was written on the gate-posts
of the palace that whoever should propose peace with the French should
be treated as a traitor and immediately executed.
On October 19th, Ni, the Corean general commanding, had sent the French
admiral a long letter stuffed with quotations from the Chinese
classics, the gist of which was that whoever from outside broke through
the frontiers of another kingdom was worthy of death—a sentiment well
worthy of a state of savagery.
The French admiral, with equal national bombast, but in direct and
clearest phrase, demanded the surrender of the three high ministers of
the court, else he would hold the Corean government responsible for the
miseries of the war.
The Coreans in camp were ceaselessly busy in drilling raw troops and
improving their marksmanship. Soldiers arrived from all quarters, and
among them was a regiment of eight hundred tiger-hunters from the
north, every man of whom was a dead shot either with bow or matchlock.
These men, who had faced the tiger and many of whom had felt his claws,
were not likely to fear even French “devils.” They garrisoned a
fortified monastery on the island which was situated in a valley in the
centre of a circle of hills which were crowned by a wall of uncemented
masonry. It could be approached only by one small foot-path in a deep
ravine. The entrance was a gateway of heavy hewn stone, arched in a
full semicircle, the gate being in one piece. The walls were mounted
with home-made artillery.
On the same day on which this information reached the admiral, the
natives attacked a French survey boat, whereupon he at once resolved to
capture the monastery. For this purpose he detached 160 men, without
artillery, who left at six o’clock in the morning of October 27th, with
their luncheon packed on horses. The invaders, with their heads turned
by too many easy victories, went in something like picnic order,
frequently stopping to rest and enjoy the autumnal scenery. On several
occasions they saw squads of men marching over the hills toward the
same destination, but this did not hurry the Frenchmen, though a native
informed them that the monastery, ordinarily inhabited only by a dozen
priests, was now garrisoned and full of soldiers.
At 11.30 they arrived near the fortress, when some one proposed lunch.
Others jauntily declared it would be very easy to capture “the pagoda,”
and then dine in the hall of Buddha himself; this advice was not,
however, followed. Having arranged three parties, they advanced to
within three hundred yards of the gate. All within was as silent as
death. Suddenly a sheet of flame burst from the whole length of the
wall, though not a black head nor a white coat was visible. In a minute
the French columns were shattered and broken, and not a man was on his
feet. The soldiers, retreating in a hail of lead, found refuge behind
rocks, sheaves of rice, piles of straw, and in the huts near by. There
the officers rallied their men lest the garrison should make a sally.
The wounded were then borne to the rear. They numbered thirty-two. Only
eighty fighting men were left, and these soon became conscious of being
weak and very hungry, for they had been cruelly tantalized by seeing
the lunch-horse kick up his heels at the first fire, and trot over to
the Coreans. They learned that one of the slips ’twixt the cup and the
lip might be caused by a horse in Chō-sen. Perhaps some native poet
improvised a poem contrasting the patriotic nag with the steed of
Kanko, which led a hungry army home.
It being madness or annihilation for eighty Frenchmen to attempt to
storm a stone fortress, garrisoned by five or ten times their number of
enemies, and guarded with artillery, retreat was resolved on. The
wounded were hastily cared for and the mournful march began. The
stronger men carried their severely injured comrades on their shoulders
with brotherly kindness. The unwounded who were free formed the
rear-guard. Three times the little band had to face about and fire with
effect at the Coreans, who thrice charged their foes with heavy loss to
themselves. They then mounted the hills, and with savage yells
celebrated their victory over the western barbarians. It was not till
night, hungry and tired, that reinforcements were met a half league
from camp. They had been sent out by the admiral, to whom had come
presentiment of failure.
There was gloom in the camp that night and at headquarters. The near
sky and the horizon, notched by the hills, seemed to glare with unusual
luridness, betokening the joy and the deadly purpose of the invaded
people.
The next morning, to the surprise of all, and the anger of many, orders
were given to embark. The work on the fortifications begun around the
camp was left off. The troops in Kang-wa set fire to the city, which,
in a few hours, was a level heap of ashes. The departure of the
invaders was so precipitate that the patriots to this day gloat over it
as a disgraceful retreat.
A huge bronze bell, from one of the temples in Kang-wa, which had been
transported half way to the camp, was abandoned. The Coreans recaptured
this, regarding it as a special trophy of victory. The French embarked
at night, and at six o’clock next morning dropped down to the anchorage
at Boisée Island. On the way, every fort on the island seemed to be
manned and popping away at the ships, but hurting only the paint and
rigging. To their great disgust, the men repulsed two days before,
discovered the walls of the monastery from deck, and that the distance
was only a mile and a half from the river side. There was considerable
silent swearing among the officers, who believed it could be easily
stormed and taken even then. Orders must be obeyed, however, and in
rage and shame they silently gazed on the grim walls. The return of the
expedition was a great surprise to the fleet at Boisée Island. On his
return to China, the admiral found, to his mortification, that his
government did not approve of the headlong venture of Bellonet. [36]
In the palace at Seoul, the resolve was made to exterminate
Christianity, root and branch. Women and even children were ordered to
the death. Several Christian nobles were executed. One Christian, who
was betrayed in the capital by his pagan brother, and another unknown
fellow-believer were taken to the river side in front of the city, near
the place where the two French vessels had anchored. At this historic
spot, by an innovation unknown in the customs of Chō-sen, they were
decapitated, and their headless trunks held neck downward to spout out
the hot life-blood, that it might wash away the stain of foreign
pollution. “It is for the sake of these Christians,” said the official
proclamation, “that the barbarians have come just here. It is on
account of these only that the waters of our river have been denied by
western ships. It behooves that their blood should wash out the stain.”
Upon the mind of the regent and court at Seoul, the effect was to swell
their pride to the folly of extravagant conceit. Feeling themselves
able almost to defy the world, they began soon after to hurl their
defiance at Japan. The dwarf of yesterday had become a giant in a day.
In spite of foreign invaders and war’s alarms, one peaceful event
during this same year, and shortly after the French fleet had gone
away, sent a ripple of pleasure over the surface of Corean society. The
young king, now but fourteen years old, who had been duly betrothed to
Min, [37] a daughter of one of the noble families, was duly married.
Popular report credits the young queen with abilities not inferior to
those of her royal husband.
According to custom, the Chinese emperor sent an ambassador, one
Koei-ling, a mandarin of high rank, to bear the imperial
congratulations and investiture of the queen. This merry Chinaman,
cultivated, lively, poetic in mood, and susceptible to nature’s
beauties, wrote an account of his journey between the two capitals. His
charming impressions of travel give us glimpses of peaceful life in the
land of Morning Calm, and afford a delightful contrast to the grim
visage of war, with which events in Corea during the last decade have
unhappily made us too familiar.