The History of Korea (vol. 1 of 2)

Chapter VIII. THE TOMB OF ADMIRAL YI SUN-SIN. In the engagement last described the Japanese in their flight were so terrified by this craft, which pursued them and sank them one by one, that they stamped their feet and cried out that it was more than of human workmanship. And indeed it was almost more than the human of that century, for it anticipated by nearly three hundred years the iron-clad war ship. In this battle Admiral Yi was wounded in the shoulder but made no sign. He urged on his men to the very last and finally when they drew off, weary of slaughter, he bared his shoulder and ordered the bullet to be cut out. Having thus brilliantly begun, and perhaps fearing lest, if he should delay, some jealous rival might induce the king to take off his head, he pushed straight on to Tang-hang Harbor where he encountered another fleet, among which was an immense three-decked ship, on which sat the admiral of the fleet, clad in silk and wearing a golden head-piece. The intrepid Yi made straight for this craft with his tortoise boat and when near it called to one of his best marksmen to let fly a shaft at the man in silks. The arrow flew straight to its mark and pierced the man’s throat. Seeing the fall of their chief, the whole fleet showed their rudders and made off as fast as they could go, but with the usual result. The next day saw Admiral Yi in Pyŭk-hang Harbor where he lay at anchor while he sent out ships to reconnoitre and find out the position of the enemy. If anything was seen of the foe, guns were to be fired as a signal. Ere long the signal shot was heard far out at sea. The fleet put out in two long divergent lines “like a fish-trap,” as the Koreans say, and soon on the horizon twenty-six hulls appeared rising and sinking on the swell. As they neared they entered the two lines of the Korean fleet and were surrounded. As the result of this fight every one of the Japanese boats was burned and two hundred heads were taken as trophies. This remarkable naval campaign closed with the destruction of a few remaining Japanese boats that were overtaken near Yong-deung Harbor. The reputation of Admiral Yi Sun-sin spread over the whole south and his praises were on every on every lip. His followers would go anywhere with him and scarcely seemed to know what fear was. Soon the report of these splendid victories came to the ears of the king, and though Admiral Yi was not without detractors at court the king conferred upon him a lofty title. In the fifth moon the Japanese resumed active operations in the north and east. A powerful force were sent to the province of Kang-wŭn which was straightway overrun. The governor, Kim Che-gap, hastily collected all the soldiers that could be found, together with arms and ammunition, and went to the almost impregnable fortress of Yŭng-wŭn. The natural defenses of this place were unexcelled by any in Korea. On three sides the approach was almost precipitous and a handful of men could hold an army at bay. Here the governor collected provisions in abundance and dug a well. Stones were piled on the top of the wall to be thrown down upon anyone who should attempt to scale the height. The Japanese recognised the strength of the position and tried to get the governor to surrender without a struggle. A letter was sent up the steep slope and handed over the wall. It said “You are doomed. Even if you hold out for two months you will then be taken. You must come out and surrender at once.” The only answer was the headless trunk of the Japanese messenger, rolled down the precipice before the eyes of the invading army. The next day the assault began. The besiegers swarmed up the sides of the slope, so that, to use the Korean figure, the mountain-side was clothed with them. The garrison though only 5000 strong found no difficulty in driving them back. That night the Koreans, wearied by the labors of the day and deeming it impossible that the Japanese should try to attack at night up those steep slopes, failed to set a guard; and in the early morning, before light, a little band of the enemy worked its way up the face of the precipice until they reached the base of the wall. A few stones were displaced until a small aperture was made and the little band effected an entrance. They rushed into the camp with a terrific yell cutting down the half-awakened and wholly terrified garrison. The gates were thrown open and in an hour the victory was complete. Gov. Kim Che-gap refused to do obeisance and was cut down. And now all eyes were turned toward the Im-jin River where the king and the people fondly hoped to be able to stop the invading host. Troops had been coming continually and massing on the northern bank of the stream at the point where the main road from Seoul to P‘yŭng-yang crosses it by ferry. Its great strategic importance was due to the fact that it was the only good place for a large force to cross. The troops massed here were nominally under the command of Gen. Kim Myŭng-wŭn who had so promptly deserted the defenses of the Han, upon the arrival of the Japanese. The Koreans had everything in their favor. The southern bank where the Japanese must embark is a high bluff pierced only by a narrow gully which would allow of only a few hundred approaching the immediate brink of the water at once and consequently the army would have to cross little by little. The opposite bank, on the other hand, is a long flat stretch of sand, an ideal place for drawing up a defensive force, and every boat-load of the enemy would be the mark for a thousand arrows. The Korean forces were numerous enough, they were brave enough and their leaders were individually capable enough; but note the sequel. All the boats had been brought over to the Korean side and so, when the Japanese arrived on the southern bank and looked down the high bluff upon the assembled hosts of the Koreans and marked the difficulty of embarkation, the swiftness of the current and the utter absence of boats or craft of any kind, they found themselves for the first time completely checked. An hour’s resistance was all they had ever met before, but here was evidently a serious obstacle. For ten long days these great armies sat facing each other across the waters of the Im-jin. They were ten days of exultation for the Koreans and every day that passed raised the courage, or rather the self-confidence, of the Koreans, who forgot that it was nature and not they who held the foe in check. They did not dream for an instant that the Japanese were about to make them the instruments of their own destruction. When the eleventh morning broke something was seen to be going on among the Japanese, a great running about and the carrying of bundles from place to place. In a short time the reason became apparent. The Japanese had given up further advance and were preparing to retreat toward Seoul. Smoke and flame showed that they were burning their camp and soon the whole force was seen to be on the move back toward the south. To imagine the revulsion of feeling in the minds of the Koreans we should have to realize the deep humiliation to which they had been subjected, the heaps of slain they had seen, the losses in property, in homes, in relatives, in friends which they had sustained at the hands of the ruthless invaders. Instead of being pursued they were to pursue. They would dog the footsteps of the retreating army, cut off the stragglers, worry the life out of the “dwarfs,” as they called the Japanese, and finally give them a farewell kick as they left the port of Fusan on their ignominious homeward flight. Such must have been the common thought and purpose of the Koreans, and the thirst for revenge was simply unbearable. And here again comes to the front the fatal weakness of the Koreans. We have before remarked that the rise of the political parties lay at the bottom of the failure of the Korean arms against the Japanese. It has already been illustrated in the case of Gen. Sin Kak who was executed through jealousy on the very day of his great victory. Here again it is to become apparent. While Gen. Kim Myŭng-sŭn was nominally in charge of the defenses of the Im-jin he was far from being in full command of the troops massed there. A number of other generals were there and each held his own troops in hand and each wished to distinguish himself and so step over the heads of the rest into the good graces of the king. This would mean preferment and wealth. There was absolutely no supreme command, there was no common plan, there was nothing but mutual jealousy and suspicion. A young general, Sin Kil-i, who knew nothing of war, was sure that the enemy had decamped, and he wanted to cross immediately in pursuit. But this was so manifestly absurd that even the common soldiers cried out, “You had better examine carefully and see whether the enemy has actually gone.” For answer the young general had a few heads struck off, which shows he was something of a disciplinarian if nothing more. Then Gen. Yu Keuk-yang expostulated with the young man, warning him that it was surely a trick to lure them across, but the young fellow drew his sword and made a lunge at the old general and charged him with cowardice. This no one could endure, so the aged general said, “Coward, am I? Well I speak only for the good of my king; but I will be the first to cross and fall into this trap, and when you see me fall you will know that my advice was sound.” So calling his soldiers he ordered them into the boats and, throwing all caution to the winds and forgetting the best interests of his king for a petty vindication of his own bravery, he dashed across the river and up the heights. The young Sin Kil-i could do no less than follow, and when he had gained the heights beyond he found the words of the aged general true. A short distance away a half dozen naked Japanese were dancing on the border of a wood, but when the Koreans rushed at them a countless multitude of Japanese who had lain concealed in the wood poured out, and in an instant the Koreans were surrounded. The aged general having thus proved his claim to bravery, or rather foolhardiness, sat down and said, “Now has come the time for me to die.” And die he did. It was only of himself that he thought, and it was this all-pervading selfishness, bred of party strife, that neutralised every good quality in the Korean army. It was not because they were not brave nor because luxury had sapped the vitality of the noble classes but it was because no one would work with anyone else. It was because they saw in war nothing but the chance of personal advancement. And so each one deplored the successes and rejoiced in the failures of every other. When the old general fell, the Koreans found themselves again, as in the battle in which Gen. Sin Yip fell, between the Japanese and the river. Back they rushed only to find that some of the boats had drifted away and others, being overcrowded, had sunk. Hundreds were driven into the water while others, preferring a soldier’s death, presented their necks to the swords of the Japanese. But even yet all was not lost. A little wisdom and care might still have left the day unwon by the Japanese. They had a few boats, to be sure, but not enough to be of any use in the face of the still large Korean force on the opposite bank. But here occurred the greatest mistake of all. The generals on the northern bank, witnessing the terrible slaughter of their confreres, and not stopping to reckon the chances still remaining of successful defense, mounted their horses and gave themselves to flight. This was not only cowardice. It was thoughtlessness, carelessness in large part, and if there had been one man in command of the whole defensive force who could witness the loss of a large fraction of his force without losing his head, the Japanese would still have been as far from the northern bank as ever. The moment the soldiers saw the flight of their generals they raised a derisive shout, “The generals are running away,” and forthwith they followed the example, as they had a perfect right to do. The Japanese leaders seeing the defenses of the river broken up by their successful strategem, immediately crossed with their entire force which Korean accounts reckon at about a quarter of a million. The Korean accounts tell us but little about the rivalry of the two Japanese leaders, Kato and Konishi, but among the Japanese it was notorious. It was impossible for them to march together for any length of time. It was this rivalry which had made them take different roads to Seoul and it was now necessary for them to part again. This jealousy was another of the potent causes of the final failure of the Japanese. Had these two men worked together they could have marched straight on to the walls of Nanking without meeting an enemy worthy of their steel. As it was they separated and scattered over the country, dissipating their power and thus frustrating the design of Hideyoshi—the conquest of China. They cast lots as to their routes and fortune favored the younger man, Konishi, who drew as his lot the straight path north where glory lay if anywhere. Kato had to be content with a dash into the province of Ham-gyŭng in the northeast. Another general, Kuroda, led a force into the western part of Whang-hă Province. All this took place in the fifth moon. The king was resting secure in P‘yŭng-yang, trusting in the defense of the Im-jin River, when a messenger rushed in breathless, announcing that the Im-jin had been deserted and that the invaders were coming north by leaps and bounds. The town was thrown into a panic of fright and, as the Koreans truly put it, “No man had any color in his face.” Gen. Yi Il came hurrying in from the seat of war disguised as a coolie and wearing rough straw shoes. The king put him in command of the forces guarding the fords of the Ta-dong River which flows by the walls of P‘yŭng-yang. We must note in passing a trifling success on the part of Captain Wŭn-ho who had been in charge of the ferry across the Han at Yö-ju. He had been called away into Kang-wŭn Province but returned just in time to form an ambush at Yö-ju and spring out upon a company of Japanese whom he routed, securing some fifty heads. The Koreans say that from that time the Japanese avoided the Yö-ju ferry. Chapter VIII. A great council.... the king decides to move to Ham-heung.... the news in China.... the king finds difficulty in leaving P‘yŭng-yang.... a parley in the channel of the Ta-dong.... the king leaves the city.... the Koreans reveal the position of the ford.... the Japanese enter P‘yŭng-yang.... the Crown Prince goes to Kang-wŭn Province.... the king pushes north.... Koreans in despair.... the indefatigable Yu Sŭng-nyong.... Song Ta-ŭp brings the queen to the king.... Kato pushes into Ham-gyŭng Province.... fight at the granaries.... Korean reverses.... a Korean betrays the two Princes.... a traitor punished.... brave defenders of Yŭn-an.... the king goes to Eui-ju.... conclave in the south.... “General of the Red Robe”.... his prowess.... he retires.... disaster at Köm-san.... a long chase.... Japanese defeated at Keum-nyŭng. On the second day of the sixth moon the king called a great council to discuss the advisability of his staying longer in P‘yŭng-yang or of moving further north. One said, “If someone is left to guard this city it will be well for the king to move north,” but another said, “ P‘yŭng-yang P‘yŭng-yang is a natural fortress. We have 10,000 soldiers and plenty of provisions. If the king goes a step from here it will mean the destruction of the dynasty.” Another voice urged a different course; “We have now lost half the kingdom. Only this province and that of Ham-gyŭng remain to us. In the latter there are soldiers and provisions in abundance and the king had better find there a retreat.” All applauded this advice excepting Yun Tu-su who said, “No, this will not do. The Japanese will surely visit that province too. Ham-heung is not nearly so easy of defense as P‘yŭng-yang. If the king is to leave this place there are just three courses open to him. First, he can retire to Yung-byŭn in this province and call about him the border guard. If he cannot hold that place he can go to Eui-ju on the border and ask speedy help from China. If necessary he can go up the Yalu to Kang-gye, still on Korean soil. And if worse comes to worst he can cross into Chinese territory and find asylum at Kwan-jun-bo although it is sure that he could hold out for a few months at Kang-gye before this would be necessary. I know all about Ham-heung. Its walls are of great extent but they are not high and it is open to attack from every side. Besides if he retreats northward from that place he will find nothing but savage tribes. Here he must stay.” But all cried out as with one voice that the king must go to Ham-heung. Gen. Yi Hang-bok insisted upon the necessity necessity of going north to the Yalu and imploring aid from China even if it became necessary for the king to find asylum on Chinese soil. But in spite of all this advice the king on the sixth of the month sent the queen on toward Ham-heung and gave orders to Yun To-su to hold P‘yŭng-yang against the Japanese. His Majesty came out and seated himself in the Ta-dong summerhouse and addressed the people saying, “I am about to start for Ham-heung but I shall leave the Crown Prince here and you must all aid him loyally.” At this the people raised a great outcry. It looked as if they would all follow the king from the city. They did not want the Prince to stay, they wanted the king. By this time the rumors of these things had gone ahead into Liao-tung. The form which the news assumed across the border was that the king had fled north to P‘yŭng-yang, but that it was only a blind, as the Japanese and Koreans had formed an agreement to invade China together and the king had made a pretense of flight so as to keep the Chinese unsuspecting until the Japanese should reach the Yalu. This report caused a great deal of anxiety in the Chinese capital and the Emperor sent Gen. In Se-dŭk, who was stationed in Liao-tung, to investigate. He immediately set out for P‘yŭng-yang, and on his arrival sought an audience with the king. It was granted, and the general, having learned the exact state of affairs, started post haste back toward Nanking to report to the Emperor. On the eighth day of the sixth moon the van of the Japanese army arrived on the southern bank of the Ta-dong River opposite P‘yŭng-yang, but there were no boats and no way of crossing; so they went into camp to await the arrival of the main body of the army. No Chik was ordered by the king to take the Ancestral tablets and start north. The people were enraged at this, for they thought it would mean the immediate pillage of the city by the Japanese, and consequent hardships and dangers for themselves. So the crowd armed itself with clubs and stones and as the tablets were being carried out of the gate they struck the bearers down and loudly insulted No Chik, who was in charge. They cried “In times of peace you are ready enough to steal the government revenues, and it is for this reason that all these troubles have arisen. You call upon us to protect the city and then you run away yourself when danger approaches.” Lashing themselves into a fury by their own words, they threw off their clothes and prepared to strike down every man who should try to escape from the city. Meanwhile the old people and children besieged the palace with their prayers, saying, “We are all here to protect the city, and if the king leaves it will be the same as handing us over to slaughter.” In the eagerness of their importunity they even pressed into the outer court yard and were stopped only by the statement that the king was not about to leave. Yu Sŭng-nyong came out and sat before the crowd and addressing an old man said, “You say that you desire to protect the city and the king’s person and you say well, but how is it that you so far forget your duty as to come in this bold manner into the king’s apartments and raise this disturbance?” The people, partly because it seemed evident the king was not about to leave, returned to their homes. That night the Japanese caught a Korean and sent him across the river with a letter to the king, in which they said “We wish to meet Yi Tŭk-hyŭng and have a parley with him.” This seemed to be a proper thing to do, so Yi entered a small boat and was sculled out to the middle of the river where he met Konishi. Without wasting any words in mere formalities the latter said, “The cause of all this trouble is that Korea would not give a safe conduct to our envoys to Nanking, but if you will now give us an open road into China all the trouble for you will be at an end.” To this Yi replied, “If you will send this army back to Japan we can confer about the matter, but we will listen to nothing so long as you are on Korean soil.” Konishi continued, “We have no desire to harm you. We have wished such a conference as this before, but have not had a single opportunity until today.” But the only answer the Korean made was, “Turn about and take your troops back to Japan.” The Japanese general thereupon lost his temper and cried, “Our soldiers always go ahead, and they know nothing about going backwards.” And so the conference was was broken up, each returning to his own side of the stream. The next day the king succeeded in getting away from the city and made his way towards Yŭng-byŭn, generals Yun Tu-su, Kim Myŭng-wŭn and Yi Wŭn-ik being left to guard the city and oppose the passage of the enemy. The Japanese camped beside the Ta-dong and waited, as they had waited beside the Im-jin, “for something to turn up.” They did not have to wait as long as they did beside the Im-jin. The Korean generals, Kim Myŭng-wŭn and Yun Tu-su were not without courage and skill, and they conceived the scheme of crossing the river at night at the fords of Neung-na-do a little above the city and falling upon the enemy with a picked body of troops. It would be difficult to disprove that in the face of such odds and such a vast disparity in equipment this plan showed the highest courage not only in the generals but in the common soldiers. The fact that the attempt failed and failed disastrously may reflect upon the judgment of the leaders but it can never impeach their bravery. The fording of the river, always a difficult and slow operation at night, consumed more time than had been anticipated and by the time the devoted men reached the Japanese outposts it was already dawn. They were now in a desperate situation. There was nothing to do but to retreat, but the retreat was itself a cause of disaster, for it revealed to the foe the position of the fords; and thus it happened that a miscalculation as to time made the Koreans the instrument of their own destruction, even as they had been at the Im-jin. The Japanese now knew that they had everything their own way. After a hearty breakfast they shouldered their arms and made for the ford. They swarmed across in such crowds that the defenders were driven back before they had shot a dozen arrows. The two Korean generals, making a virtue of necessity, opened the Ta-dong Gate on the river side of the town and told the people to escape for their lives. The soldiers threw all their heavier arms into the pond called P‘ung-wŭl-su and fled by way of the Po-dong Gate. The Japanese did not pursue, but took quiet possession of the town and settled down. Here again they made a grand mistake. Their only hope lay in pushing on at full speed into China, for even now the force that was to crush them was being collected, and every day of delay was lessening their chances of success. The king was at Pak-ch‘ŭn when the news of the fall of P‘yŭng-yang reached him, and he was in feverish haste to get on to Eui-ju, saying that if worst came to worst he would cross into Chinese territory. But he added, “As I am told that by leaving Korean soil I shall abdicate my royal right I wish the Crown Prince, in care of Gen. Ch‘oe Heung-wŭn, to go to Yi-ch‘ŭn in Kang-wŭn Province and there gather about him an army and hold the fortress as long as he can.” This order was immediately carried out and the Prince started for Kang-wŭn Province, while the king pushed on northward to Ka-san. He arrived at that place in the middle of the night. It was pitchy dark and there were no lights and the rain was falling in torrents. The royal escort had dwindled to less than twenty men. Here the report was received that a Chinese force was to cross the Ya-lu, and so the king stopped at Ka-san waiting their approach. Yu Sŭng-nyong was hurrying from town to town trying to get together provisions for the Chinese army that was coming to Korea’s aid, but as fast as he got them together the people rose in revolt and stole them all. Some days passed and still the expected army did not appear, so Yi Tŭk-hyŭng was despatched as envoy to China to solicit aid from the Emperor, and His Majesty called together his little court and said, “If necessary I shall cross the Ya-lu and find asylum on Chinese soil. If so, which of you will go with me?” For some moments there was a dead silence and then Yi Hang-bok, the same who had aided the Queen in her flight from the palace, spoke up and said, “I will go with you.” The truth of the matter is that when the king left P‘yŭng-yang the courtiers all gave up the kingdom for lost and were ready to desert the king the moment there was a more favorable opening. With tremendous toil Yu Sŭng-nyong succeeded in getting some provisions together and transported them all to Chöng-ju, but when he arrived at that place he found a crowd of people assembled in front of the royal granary armed with clubs. He charged the mob and scattered it, caught eight of the leaders and beheaded them on the spot. He then went to Kwak-san and secured further supplies, and also at Kwi sŭng, and held them in readiness for the Chinese army when it should appear. We will remember that the king had fully determined to go across into Ham-gyŭng Province, but at the last moment he had been dissuaded because of the difficulties that might arise if he were compelled to retreat further still. Being now urged to go on to Eui-ju he replied, “Yes, I must do so, but what about the queen whom I sent forward into Ham-gyŭng Province?” The brave Prefect of Un-san made answer, “I will go and bring her to Your Majesty.” So he set out across the country to find the queen, and all the records tell us is that he brought her faithfully to him at Pak-ch‘ŭn. This short mention does this brave man scant justice, for even in these days a journey across the northern part of the peninsula is an arduous undertaking especially in summer. But not only so; he was to find a queen, beset perhaps by enemies, and bring her safely across that wilderness to the king, who by that time might be far across the Chinese border, while the country behind him swarmed with a half-savage enemy. This prefect, whose name is Song Ta-ŭp, must have been a brave, energetic, tactful man whose will was as strong as his patriotism was deep. The Japanese were now settled in P‘yŭng-yang and as they were destined to remain there some time it may be well for us to leave them there and follow the fortunes of Kato, who, as we will remember, had branched off eastward into Ham-gyŭng Province after casting lots. He pushed on rapidly across the country toward Wŭn-sin, but as he was not on one of the main thoroughfares of the country he found it difficult to keep to the road; so he captured a Korean and forced him to act as guide. Arriving at the town of Kok-san in the eastern part of Whang-hă Province they crossed the mountains by the No-ri-hyŭn Pass and pushed on until they struck the Seoul-Wünsan road not far from the latter place. Gen. Han Keuk-sŭng was in charge of the government forces forces in Ham-gyŭng Province. He advanced immediately to engage the Japanese, and a fierce fight took place at the government storehouses at Ha-jong. At first the Japanese had decidedly the worst of it but at last they retired to the shelter of the granaries and barricaded themselves behind bags of rice from which position they poured a destructive fire upon the Korean troops who were drawn up four deep, and who therefore suffered the more severely. Not being able to dislodge the enemy the Koreans decided to withdraw and fortify the passes both in front and behind the Japanese, supposing that in this way they would be entrapped. The Japanese learned of this and when night came they knew they must make a bold strike for liberty. So they scaled the mountains in the darkness and succeeded in completely surrounding the defenders of one of the passes. When morning came there was a heavy fog and the Koreans were utterly unsuspicious of danger. Suddenly the surrounding party of Japanese opened fire on them and it took but a few moments to have them on the run. It came on to rain and the roads were heavy with mud. The Koreans who were entirely unused to such a prolonged strain, fell exhausted along the way and were butchered by the pursuing enemy. Gen. Han made his escape to Kyŭng-săng but was there captured by the Japanese. The governor of the province, to the disgust of the people, fled and hid among the hills, but the populace arose and dragged him out and forced him to resume his duties. Gen. Yi Hon also fled northward toward Kap-san, and the people consequently seized him and took off his head. It was hard work for generals in that province, for they had the Japanese on the one hand and the people on the other. The people of the north are made of sterner stuff than those of the south and the punishment they meted out to these cravens is a good indication of their quality. While these events were happening the two princes who had taken refuge in this province fled northward and stopped not till they reached the border town of Whe-ryŭng on the Tu-man River. As it proved, this was the worst thing they could have done, for the ajun or constable of that district was either in the pay of the Japanese or was so terrified by their approach that he was willing to go to any extreme to gain their favor. So he seized the two young princes and carried them to the Japanese camp. The latter received them gladly, unbound them, placed them in their midst and carried them wherever they went. They were a prize worth watching. To the traitor, Kuk Kyŭng-in, who had betrayed the two princes, they gave a position equivalent to the governorship of the province, and he was formally installed in that office. But justice soon overtook him. A loyal general, Chöng Mun-bu, in the northern part of the province, arranged a plan to effect the capture of the traitor. But in some way the news got out and the pseudo-governor sent and seized Gen. Chöng, intending to take his head off the next morning; but during the night another loyal man named Sin Se-jun, gathered a band of men, armed them as best he could and addressed them thus: “Our district has become disloyal through the treachery of this villain. If we do not hasten to make it right we will all have to suffer for it in the end. If you do not agree with me, take your swords and strike me down.” They answered as one man, “We will listen to you and obey you.” They immediately sallied out, broke into the governor’s house and beat him to death. The Japanese knew that it was Gen. Chöng who had originated the plot and they searched for him everywhere, but he hid in private houses in different places and so they failed to apprehend him. Chi Tal-wŭn of Kyŭng-sang gathered a band of men and tried to make head against the Japanese but not being a soldier he could make but little impression; so Gen. Chöng was hunted up and put in command. There were only two hundred soldiers in all, but soon they were joined by the prefects of Chöng-sŭng and Kyŭng-wŭn and their contingents, and the little army made its headquarters at Kyŭng-sŭng. As the Japanese were overrunning the country, many events of interest happened, many episodes that history will probably never record, scenes of cruelty and rapine that are perhaps better left undiscovered; but a few of the more important of these events are necessary to a correct understanding of the way in which the Koreans met their fate at the hands of the invaders. When the Koreans fled from Seoul a high official by the name of Yi Chong-ŭm fled to the walled town of of Yŭn-an in Whang-hă Province. Its prefect had fled, and when a Japanese force of 3000 men under Nagamasa approached, the people besought this Yi to take charge of the defense of the town. He consented and made proclamation, “The Japanese are all about us and we are in jeopardy jeopardy of our lives. All that wish to live must now run away and the rest of us will remain and die together.” To this they replied with one voice, “How can we let our leader die alone?” The next day the Japanese arrived and invested the town, but on attempting to storm it they were met by buckets of boiling water thrown down down . on their heads. They drew off, but renewed the attack at night. This time they were met by piles of burning straw which again drove them back. Again they came on, this time with broad planks over their heads to protect them from the novel weapons of the Koreans, but these were not proof against the huge stones which the defenders threw down upon them. The fight lasted three days and finally the upon them. The fight lasted three days and finally the Japanese withdrew after burning their dead. In the seventh moon the king moved northward to Eui-ju. But we must turn again to the south to witness another loyal attempt to stem the tide of invasion. In the province of Chŭl-la there were men who longed to take up arms in defense of their homes, but all the regular troops had been drafted away northward and nothing could be done on regular lines. So Ko Kyöng-myŭng and Kim Ch’ŭn-il of that province and Kwak Chă-u and Chöng In-hong of Kyŭng-sang Province held a conference to devise ways and means for prosecuting a geurilla geurilla campaign. These men had all been connected with the army at some previous time and were not utterly lacking in knowledge of military affairs. Kwak Chă-u was in the prime of life and was appointed leader. Gathering the people of the countryside to a great conclave, he addressed them thus, “The whole country is being overrun by the Japanese and soon we will become their prey. Among our young men there must be many hundreds who are able to bear arms. If we take our stand at Chöng-jin on the river we shall be able to prevent the Japanese from crossing and they will thus be held in check.” This brave leader then turned his whole patrimony into ready money and spent it in equipping his little army, which amounted to 5000 men. A Japanese general attempted to enter this portion of the province but was met all along the line of the river by a determined soldiery, and was not able to affect a crossing. The Korean leader Kwak has become famous in Korean story for his valiant deeds. He is said to have worn a fiery red cloak and he was dubbed Hong-eui Tă-jang or “General of the Red Robe.” His particular skill lay in rapid changes of base and he appeared now at one point and now at another with such bewildering rapidity that he earned the reputation of being able to transport himself by magic to incredible distances in a moment of time. These reports he did not contradict. The Japanese came to dread his approach and the report that he was near, or a glimpse of the flaring red robe was enough to send them scurrying off. From his central camp he sent out spies in all directions who kept him informed of every move of the enemy, and whenever the Japanese encamped the Koreans gathered on the surrounding hills at night, each carrying a framework that supported five torches, and so the Japanese supposed they were surrounded by great numbers of Koreans, and anxiety kept them always awake. The best of the Korean soldiers were detailed to watch mountain passes and look for opportunities to cut off small bodies of the enemy’s forces. Traps of various kinds were set, into which they occasionally fell, and they were so harrassed harrassed and worried that at last they were compelled to withdraw entirely from the three districts of Eui-ryŭng, Sam-ga and Hyŭp-chăn, and quiet was restored. But this useful man’s career was cut short in a manner similar to that in which Gen. Yi Kak’s had been. We will remember, after the Japanese had taken Tong-nă and were sweeping northward, that Kim Su, the governor of Kyŭng-sang Province, not daring to meet them, turned to the west and fled from their path. It was just about this time that the “General of the Red Robe” was having his victories over the Japanese that had pressed westward after the fall of Tong-nă. When this successful leader heard of the craven flight of Gov. Kim Su he was filled with scorn and with righteous indignation. He considered the cowardly governor to be worse than the Japanese themselves. He sent the governor a message naming seven valid reasons why he deserved execution. Kim Su replied, “As for you, you are a robber yourself,” and he also sent a letter to the king charging Gen. Kwak with disloyalty. At the same time Gen. Kwak sent a letter to the king saying, “Gov. Kim ran away from his post of duty, and when I upbraided him for it he called me a robber. I have killed many of the ‘rats’ but as I have been called a robber I herewith lay down my arms and retire.” Despatching this letter to the king, Gen. Kwak dismissed all his followers and retired to a hermitage of Pi-p‘a Mountain in Kyŭng-sang Province and “lived upon pine leaves for food.” So the records say. Thereafter, though offered the governorship of Ham-gyŭng or Chŭl-la province he refused to come out of his retreat. He changed his name to Mang U-dang or, “House of Lost Passions,” and he thus acquired great sanctity. Here is another instance in which the king lost an able leader through mere wanton caprice. Wounded pride made the famous leader forget country, king, kindred, honor—all. Another attempt was made by Ko Kyŭng-myŭng, a native of Chang-heung in Chul-la Province. Hearing that the king had fled to P‘yŭng-yang he, together with Yu P‘ang-no, gathered a large force at Tam-yang. Sending letters all over the province he succeeded in getting together 6000 men, and made the central camp at Yŭn-san. The king, bring informed of this, sent a gracious letter giving his sanction and urging the faithful men to do all in their power for the people and the country. Gen. Kwak Nyŭng was also sent from the north to coöperate with this army in their loyal attempts. Hearing that the Japanese had arrived at Köm-san, the Korean forces advanced against them, but, for some reason not stated, when they appeared before the town their number had dwindled to eight hundred. Whether the rest had run away or whether a small detachment was deemed sufficient is not known, but at any rate a blunder had been committed, and when the Japanese saw the smallness of the attacking party they sallied out and soon scattered the Korean forces under Gen. Kwak Nyŭng. The other troops, seeing this, also took to their heels, but Gen. Ko would not run away, though urged to do so by his lieutenants. He told them to make good their escape, but that he would remain and meet his fate. So they all stood and fought it out to the bitter end and fell side by side. Gen. Ko’s son, learning of his father’s death burned for revenge and so he collected a band of soldiers in the south, which he named “The Band that Seeks Revenge.” A more successful attempt was made by Chöng In-hong of Hyŭn-p‘ung in Kyŭng-sang Province. He was joined by Kim Myön, Pak Song, Kwak Chun, Kwak Il and Son In-gap. These men organized a force and drove the Japanese out of Mu-gye and burned their supplies. Hearing that the enemy had fled toward Cho-gye and knowing that a river intervened, they gave chase. The Japanese came to the river but could find no boats to cross. They spent so much time looking for a ford that when at last they found one and were starting to cross, the pursuers came up. The ford was a bad one, the bottom being composed of soft sand, something like quick-sand. Soon the horses and men were floundering about in mid-stream. Chöng and his men, who knew the ford, rushed in upon them, while so entangled, and cut them down by hundreds. Those that escaped fled towards Song-ju, but one of Chöng’s lieutenants took a thousand men and gave chase. Pressed beyond endurance the Japanese turned and came on to fight. One huge fellow on a magnificent charger came dashing out ahead of the rest, brandishing his sword and yelling at the top of his voice. A hideous gilt mask added to the picturesqueness of his appearance, but it did not frighten the pursuers. Their leader aimed at the horse’s legs and soon he came crashing to the ground, where he was speedily despatched. The other Japanese thereupon turned and resumed their flight. Japanese troops who were in force in Song-ju and Ko-ryŭng came out to intercept the pursuers, but Chöng and his men formed an ambush and springing suddenly upon the Japanese threw them into confusion and chased them as far as Pyŭl Pass. In this flight the Japanese threw away their baggage, weapons and all superfluous clothing. Chöng and his men chased them six miles and then turned back. The last adventure of this nature which we shall mention is that of Kim Ch‘ŭn-il a man of Na-ju in Chŭl-la Province. Hearing of the king’s flight he sat down and wept, but suddenly springing up he exclaimed, “I might far better be trying to aid my sovereign than sit here bewailing his misfortune.” In company with his friends Song Che-min and Yang San-do, he got together a goodly band of men whose avowed purpose was the succor of the king. Before commencing operations the leader slaughtered horses and oxen and made each man taste the blood and take an oath of allegiance to the cause in which they were embarked. Kim addressed them in these words, “Of course this means death to us all. We cannot expect to come out of it alive. We can only go forward. There must be no retreat. If any one of you desires life more than the accomplishment of the work in which we are engaged let him turn back now.” They fortified Tok-san in Ch‘ung-ch‘ŭng Province. Koreans who had sold themselves to the Japanese as spies came to this camp to gain information, but were apprehended and put to death. The Japanese camp was at Keum-nyŭng not far away. One moonless night Kim, by a forced march came and surrounded this camp, and at a given signal his forces descended like an avalanche upon the unsuspecting enemy. Those that escaped the edge of the sword found safety in flight. In the seventh moon this force, consisting of several thousand men, crossed the Han River below Yang-wha-do intending to go and join the king, but instead of doing so they entered the island of Kang-wha and fortified it. When the king heard of these deeds of Kim Ch‘ŭn-il, he was highly pleased and gave him the title of “Defender against Invaders.” These incidents of Korean success against the Japanese cannot be taken as typical cases for, as a rule, the Japanese went where they wished and did what they wished, but they are inserted here rather to show that it was no craven submission on the part of the Koreans; that there were strong, brave and faithful men who were willing to cast their fortunes and lives into the scales and strike as hard blows as they knew how for their homes and for their king. It was of course a geurilla geurilla warfare and it was only small detachments of the main army of the Japanese that they could successfully withstand, but the utter pusilanimity pusilanimity of the Koreans, as sometimes depicted, is not a true picture of them. Their worst fault was that they were unprepared for war. This together with the strife of parties was the reason why the Japanese for a time worked their will upon the peninsula. Chapter IX. Attempts to secure aid from China.... divided counsels in Nanking.... an army sent.... a desperate envoy.... Gen. Suk Sŭng’s love for Korea.... the Emperor gives orders for the king’s entertainment.... great Korean victory in the south.... Japanese army of reinforcement defeated and destroyed by Admiral Yi Sun-sin.... Gen. Yi honored.... the back of the invasion broken.... a vainglorious Chinese general.... severely beaten.... the monks begin a Holy War.... a sharp answer.... various Korean forces.... a night adventure.... Japanese reverses in the south.... China awakens.... a grand conference.... a truce.... the time expires.... a celebrated soldier tracked down.... attempt to retake Seoul.... brave defense of Chin-Ju ... the first mortar and bomb ... various Korean attempts ... Korean victory in Ham-gyŭng Province ... another in the south ... Japanese confined almost entirely to P‘yŭng-yang. The efforts that Korea put forth before she obtained aid from China make an entertaining story, and they show that China delayed it as long as possible and then complied, not so much because she wished to help Korea as because she desired to check the Japanese before they crossed the Ya-lu and began ravaging the fruitful plains of the Liao-tung peninsula. Before the Japanese ever landed in Korea the king had sent an envoy to Nanking telling the Emperor that an invasion was next to certain; and that envoy was still in Nanking. After the king’s flight to the north he sent Min Mong-nyŭng and Yi Tŭk-hyŭng as special envoys to ask aid again. On the arrival of these men with their urgent request there was a great council of war in Nanking. Some of the leading generals said, “There is no need for China to help those wild people. Let them fight it out themselves.” It would appear that the policy by which China disclaimed responsibility for Korea, when such responsibility involved sacrifice, is several centuries old. Other generals said, “No, that will not do. We must send troops and at least guard our own territory from invasion.” But the Chinese General-in-chief, Sŭk Sŭng, said, “We must, without fail, render Korea the assistance for which she asks. We must immediately despatch 2000 troops, and the Emperor must appropriate 2,000,000 cash for their maintenance.” The upshot of it all was that Gen. Nak Sang-ji took a small body of troops and marched eastward to the banks of the Ya-lu where he went into camp without attempting to render the Koreans any assistance. In the seventh moon the king sent another envoy to Nanking on the same errand but with the same lack of success. Then the king called to him one of his most trusted officials and appointed him envoy to Nanking and said, “The salvation of the kingdom lies in your hands. Go to Nanking and leave no efforts untried whereby the Emperor may be induced to help us.” Charged with this important mission, this envoy Chöng Kon-su hastened to Nanking and, entering the enclosure of the war office, sat in the courtyard for seven days weeping; but the officials all turned a deaf ear to his entreaties, excepting the General-in-chief Sŭk Sŭng. Indignant at the apathy of his colleagues and in spite of the fact that his duty as general-in-chief demanded his presence in Nanking, he arose and said, “If none of you gentlemen will go to the aid of Korea I will go myself.” There were special and personal reasons for this man’s interest in Korea. In years gone by a Korean merchant, while in Nanking, had met in an inn a beautiful slave girl and upon inquiry had discovered that she was of noble family but had sold herself into slavery to obtain money wherewith to deliver her father from prison. The merchant was so touched by the sacrifice which she had made—for it meant the sacrifice of honor itself—that he gave all his patrimony and bought her and set her free. In after years she became the wife of this same Gen. Sŭk Sŭng, and thus it was that he was an ardent admirer of Korea and was determined to see that Korea received aid in her present extremity. At this point the king sent a message to the prefect of Liao-tung saying, “The Japanese have come as far north as P‘yŭng-yang and I fear I shall have to cross the Ya-lu and take refuge in your district.” This the prefect immediately reported to the Emperor, who answered, “If the king of Korea enters your district, provide him with a fine house, give him food out of the imperial stores, each day four ounces of silver, a pig, a sheep, vermicelli and rice. Give him also an escort of a hundred men and let twenty women be detailed to wait upon him.” We have now arrived at the threshold of the Chinese counter-invasion which was destined to be one of the main causes of the Japanese retreat, but before entering upon this narrative we must turn again to the south and witness some events which did far more to effect the withdrawal of the Japanese than did the coming of the Chinese armies. The first of these was the utter defeat of a large body of Japanese who were scouring the province of Chŭl-la. Entering the town of I-ch‘i they were met by such a fierce attack on the part of Whang-jin the prefect of Tong-bok that they turned back and, crossing the Ung-ch‘i Mountain entered the prefecture of Chŭn-ju. Yö Pong-nam, the prefect of Na-ju, and Whang Pŭk, a volunteer general, lay in ambush with a large body of volunteer troops, and succeeded in driving the Japanese back, but the next day the invading host came fiercely to the attack and the Koreans had to give way. The Japanese in their exultation now thought they could go back to I-ch‘i and avenge themselves for their defeat there. Gen. Kwŭn Yŭl and the prefect of Whang-jin heard of this in time to fortify one of the mountain passes. The Japanese attacked in a desperate manner, creeping up the steep mountain sides on their hands and knees, shooting as they advanced. All day long the fight continued and the Japanese were utterly defeated. Their bodies were piled in heaps where they fell and the records say that the ground was covered with one crimson matting of leaves. This was one of the greatest land victories which the Koreans scored against the Japanese. Retreating to the valley with their dead the Japanese made two great heaps of bodies and buried them in trenches, marking the spot with rough monuments of wood. This was probably one of the bodies of troops for which the Japanese in P‘yŭng-yang were waiting, before attempting the invasion of China. But meanwhile events of far greater importance were occurring farther south, where Admiral Yi Sun-sin with his wonderful “tortoise boat” was watching for Japanese fleets. It was in the eighth moon that his watchfulness was rewarded and he beheld on the eastern horizon a vast fleet of Japanese boats bringing a hundred thousand men to reinforce the army of invasion and enable it to push on into China. Admiral Yi and his lieutenant Yi Ok-keui met this powerful fleet in a place called Kyön-nă-ryang among the islands off the southern coast of Chŭl-la Province. The evident intention of the Japanese was to round the southwestern corner of the peninsula and sail up the west coast to P‘yŭng-yang. At first the wily admiral made as if he would betake himself to flight and the Japanese, by giving chase, threw their own line into disorder. When opposite Han-san Island, Admiral Yi suddenly turned his iron-clad about and rammed the nearest of his pursuers, and then engaged the others either singly or by the score, for his craft was impervious to their weapons. His attending fleet followed and completed the work, after he had disabled the enemy’s boats. Seventy-one of the Japanese boats were sunk that day and it is said the very sea was red. But soon a reinforcing fleet came up from An-gol Harbor near Han-san and the Admiral found that his day’s work was not yet done. The attack straightway began and soon the Japanese were in the same plight in which their comrades had been put. Many, seeing how impossible it was to make headway against this iron ship, beached their boats and fled by land; so on that same day forty-eight ships more were burned. The few that escaped during the fight sped eastward toward home. So ended, we may well believe, one of the great naval battles of the world. It may truly be called the Salamis of Korea. It signed the death-warrant of the invasion. It frustrated the great motive of the invasion, the humbling of China; and thenceforth, although the war dragged through many a long year, it was carried on solely with a view to mitigating the disappointment of Hideyoshi—a disappointment that must have been as keen as his thirst for conquest was unquenchable. When the king heard of these splendid achievements he heaped upon Admiral Yi all the honors in his gift, and even those who hated him for his successes were compelled to join in his praise. Konishi had heard that an army was coming to reinforce him and he wrote an exultant letter to the king saying, “A hundred thousand men are coming to reinforce me. Where will you flee to then?” But before this letter reached its destination there came the news of the crushing defeat in the south. The whole success of the invasion depended upon forming a junction between the army in P‘yŭng-yang and this army of reinforcement, but Admiral Yi shattered the fleet, and the last hope of the invaders perished. And now at last China bestirred herself and sent Gen. Cho Seung-hun with 5000 troops across the Ya-lu into Korea. This was a man whose vanity was as great as his ignorance of the Japanese. He loudly boasted “Now that I have come, no Japanese will be able to stand before me.” Penetrating as far south as Ka-san he enquired whether the Japanese had fled from P‘yŭng-yang, and being answered in the negative he exclaimed “Heaven is indeed good to keep them there for me.” Two of the Korean generals ventured to offer him some advice, saying that it was now the rainy season and the roads were very bad, and that it might be well to wait until his army could move with greater ease and with better hopes of success. But he laughed and said, “I once took 3000 men and put to flight 100,000 Mongols. I care no more for these Japanese than I do for mosquitoes or ants.” And so his troops floundered on through the mud until they stood before P‘yŭng-yang on the nineteenth of the eighth moon. And lo! the gates were wide open. The Chinese troops marched straight up through the town to the governor’s residence, firing their guns and calling on the enemy to appear. But not a Japanese was to be seen. When the whole of the Chinese force had entered the city and the streets were full, the Japanese, who lay hidden in every house, poured a sudden and destructive fire into their ranks. The Chinese, huddled together in small companies, were shot down like rabbits. Gen. Sa Yu, the second in command of the Chinese, was killed and the boastful Gen. Cho Seung-hun mounted his horse and fled the city, followed by as many of his soldiers as could extricate themselves. Rain began to fall and the roads were deep with mud. The Japanese followed the fugitives, and the valley was strewed with the bodies of the slain. Out of 5000 men who entered the city only two thousand escaped. Gen. Cho fled two hundred li to An-ju before he stopped. He there gave out that as there had been much rain and the roads were heavy he was at a disadvantage in attacking, and when his second, Gen. Sa Yu, fell he saw that nothing could be done, and so had ordered a retreat. But the Koreans only smiled, for they knew that a sixty mile ride over those roads by a Chinese general meant more than an ordinary retreat. And so he returned to Liaotung, this valiant man, and fearing punishment, averred that “We whipped the Japanese but the Koreans turned against us and we had to fall back.” The Chinese general Yang Sa-heun was sent to investigate this charge but the king denied it and the truth was soon discovered. And now a new element in this seething caldron of war rose to the surface. It was an independent movement on the part of the Buddhist monks throughout the country. Hyu Chŭng, known throughout the eight provinces as “The great teacher of So-san,” was a man of great natural ability as well as of great learning. His pupils were numbered by the thousands and were found in every province. He called together two thousand of them and appeared before the king at Eui-ju and said, “We are of the common people but we are all the king’s servants and two thousand of us have come to die for Your Majesty.” The king was much pleased by this demonstration of loyalty and made Hyu Chŭng a Priest General, and told him to go into camp at Pŭp-heung Monastery. He did so. and from that point sent out a call to all the monasteries in the land. In Chŭl-la Province was a warrior monk Ch’oe Yŭng, and at Diamond Mountain another named Yu Chŭng. These came with over a thousand followers and went into camp a few miles to the east of P’yŭng-yang. They had no intention of engaging in actual battle but they acted as spies, took charge of the commissariat and made themselves generally useful. During battle they stood behind the troops and shouted encouragement. Yu Chŭng, trusting to his priestly garb, went into P’yŭng-yang to see the Japanese generals. Being ushered into the presence of Kato, who had now joined the main army after his detour into Ham-gyŭng Province, the monk found himself surrounded by flashing weapons. But he was not in the least daunted, and looked about him with a smiling face. Kato addressed him good-naturedly and asked, “What do you consider the greatest treasure in your land?” Without a moment’s hesitation the monk answered “Your head,” which piece of subtle flattery made the Japanese general laugh long and loud. Besides these there were other movements of a loyal nature throughout the country. At Wha-sun in Chŭl-la Province there was a little band of men under Ch‘oe Kyŭng-whe whose banner represented a falcon in flight. Also in Ch‘ung-ch‘ŭng Province a celebrated scholar Cho Hön collected a large band of men, but his efforts were frustrated by the cowardice and jealousy of the governor of the province who imprisoned the parents of many of his followers and so compelled them to desert. Yi Wŭn-ik, the governor of P‘yŭng-an Province and Yi Pin, one of the provincial generals, made a fortified camp at Sun-an, sixty li to the west of P‘yŭng-yang. At the same time generals Kim Eung-Sŭ and Pak Myung-hyŭn, with a force of 10,000 men, made a line of fortified camps along the west side of the town of P‘yŭng-yang. Kim Ok-ch‘u with a naval force guarded the ford of the Ta-dong. These forces advanced simultaneously and attacked the Japanese, cutting off all stragglers. Suddenly the Japanese army made a sally from the city and the Koreans were dispersed. When they again rendezvoused at their respective camps it was found that Gen. Kim Eung-sŭ and his troops were nowhere to be found. As it happened he was very near the wall of the town when the sortie occurred and he was cut off from retreat. But in the dusk of approaching night he was not discovered by the Japanese. A story is told of a curious adventure which he had that night. One of the Japanese generals in the town had found a beautiful dancing girl and had compelled her to share his quarters. On this eventful evening she asked him to let her go to the wall and see if she could find some one who would carry a message to her brother. Permission was given and she hastened to the wall and there called softly, “Where is my brother?” Gen. Kim, as we have seen was immediately beneath the wall and he answered, “Who is it that calls?” “Will you not help me escape from the Japanese,” she pleaded. He immediately consented to help her and, taking his life in his hands, he speedily scaled the wall and accompanied her toward the Japanese general’s quarters. Her captor was a terrible creature, so the story goes, who always slept sitting bolt upright at a table with his eyes wide open and holding a long sword in each hand. His face was fiery red. Gen. Kim, conducted by the dancing girl, came upon him unawares and smote off his head at a stroke, but even after the head fell the terrible figure rose and hurled one of the swords with such tremendous force that it struck through one of the house-posts. The Korean general concealed the head beneath his garments and fled, with the girl at his heels. But now for the first time he seemed to become aware of the extreme hazard of his position and fearing that he would not be able to get by the guard, if accompanied by the girl, his gallantry suddenly forsook him and he turned and smote off her head as well. Thus unencumbered he succeeded in making his escape. We must here digress again to describe the final conflict that put an end to Japanese advances in the province of Chŭl-la. A general. Cho Hön, in company with a monk warrior, Yung Kyu, advanced on the important town of Ch‘ung-ju, then occupied by a strong Japanese garrison. They approached the west gate and stormed it with stones and arrows. In a short time the Japanese were compelled to retire and the Koreans began to swarm into the town, vowing to make a complete slaughter of the hated enemy, but at that moment a severe thunder shower arose and the darkness was intense. So Gen. Cho recalled his troops and encamped outside the gate. That night the Japanese burned their dead and fled out the north gate, and when Gen. Cho led his troops into the city the next day he scored only an empty triumph. He desired to push forward to the place were the king had found refuge, and to that end he advanced as far north as On-yang in Ch‘ung-ch‘ŭng Province: but learning there that a strong body of Japanese had congregated at Yö-san in Chŭl-la Province, he turned back to attack them. He made an arrangement by letter with Kwŭn Yŭl, the provincial general of Chŭl-la, to make a simultaneous attack upon the Japanese position from different sides. But when Gen. Cho arrived before the Japanese camp with his little band of 700 men Gen. Kwŭn was nowhere to be found. The Japanese laughed when they saw this little array and came on to the attack, but were each time driven back. But at last the Koreans had spent all their arrows, it was late in the day and they were fatigued and half famished. Gen. Cho, however, had no thought of retreat and kept urging on his men. If he had at this crisis withdrawn his remaining soldiers, the victory would virtually have been his for the Japanese had lost many more men than he; but he was too stubborn to give an inch. The Japanese came on to a last grand charge. Gen. Cho’s aides advised him to withdraw but he peremptorily refused. At last every weapon was gone and the men fought with their bare fists, falling where they stood. The slain of the Japanese outnumbered those of the Koreans and although they were victorious their victory crippled them. It took the survivors four days to burn their dead and when it was done they broke camp and went southward. The Japanese never regained the ground lost by this retreat and and it was a sample of what must occur throughout the peninsula, since Admiral Yi had rendered reinforcement from Japan impossible. We return now to the north, the real scene of war. In the ninth moon the Chinese general, Sim Yu-gyŭng, whose name will figure largely in these annals from this point on, was sent from China to investigate the condition of affairs in Korea with a view to the sending of a large Chinese force, for by this time China had become alive to the interests at stake, namely her own interests. This general crossed the Ya-lu and came southward by An-ju as far as Sun-an. From that point he sent a communication to the Japanese in P‘yŭng-yang saying, “I have come by order of the Emperor of China to inquire what Korea has done to merit such treatment as this at your hands. You are trampling Korea under foot and we would know why.” The Japanese general, Konishi, answered this by requesting that the Chinese general meet him at Kang-bok Mountain ten li north of P‘yŭng-yang, and have a conference with him. To this Gen. Sim agreed and, taking with him three followers, he repaired to the appointed place. Konishi accompanied by Kuroda and Gensho came to the rendezvous with a great array of soldiers and weapons, Gen. Sim walked into their midst alone, having left his horse outside the enclosure. He immediately addressed them as follows; “I brought with me a million soldiers and left them in camp beyond the Ya-lu. You, Gensho, are a monk. Why do you come to kill and destroy?” Gensho answered, “For many a year Japan has had no dealings with China. We asked from Korea a safe conduct for our envoy to Nanking but it was refused and we were compelled to come and take it by force. What cause have you to blame us for this?” To this Gen. Sim replied, “If you wish to go to China to pay your respects to the Emperor there will be no difficulty at all. I can arrange it without the least trouble,” Konishi said nothing, but handed his sword to Gen. Sim in token of amity and after they had conferred together for some time it was arranged that Gen. Sim go to Nanking and represent that Japan wished to become a vassal of China. Fifty days was agreed upon for the general to make the trip to Nanking and return with the answer, and a truce was called for that time. A line was drawn round P‘yŭng-yang ten li from the wall and the Japanese agreed to stay within that limit while the Koreans promised not to cross that line. Gen. Sim was sent upon his way with every mark of esteem on the part of the Japanese who accompanied him a short distance on the road. The Japanese lived up to the terms of the truce, never crossing the line once, but the fifty days expired and still Gen. Sim did not appear. They then informed the Koreans that in the twelfth moon their “horses would drink the water of the Ya-lu.” During these fifty days of truce what was going on in other parts of the peninsula? Cho Ung a soldier of Ch‘ung-ch‘ŭng Province was a man of marvelous skill. With a band of 500 men he succeeded so well in cutting off small foraging bands of Japanese that they were at their wits end to get him put out of the way. One foggy day when the mist was so thick that one could not see his hand before his face the Japanese learned that this dreaded man was on the road. They followed him swiftly and silently and at last got an opportunity to shoot him in the back. He fell from his horse but rose and fled on foot. But they soon overtook him and, having first cut his hands off, they despatched him. The governor of Kyŭng-geui Province was Sim Tă. He had found asylum in the town of Sang-nyŭng, two hundred li north of Seoul. Having gotten together a considerable body of soldiers he formed the daring plan of wresting Seoul from the hands of the Japanese. For this purpose purpose it was necessary that he should have accomplices in that city who should rise at the appointed time and join in the attack. Through treachery or otherwise the Japanese became aware of the plot and sending a strong body of troops to Sang-nyŭng they seized the governor and put him to death. Gen. Kim Si-min had charge of the defense of the walled town of Chin-ju in Kyŭng-sang Province. The Japanese invested the town with a very large force. Within, the garrison amounted to only three thousand men. These were placed on the walls in the most advantageous manner by Gen. Kim who was specially skilled in the defense of a walled town. All the soldiers were strictly commanded not to fire a single shot until the Japanese were close up to the wall. The Japanese advanced in three divisions, 10,000 strong. A thousand of these were musketeers. The roar of the musketry was deafening but the walls were as silent as if deserted. Not a man was to be seen. On the following day the assault began in earnest. The Japanese discarded the muskets and used fire arrows. Soon all the houses outside the wall were in ashes. Gen. Kim went up into the south gate and there sat and listened to some flute playing with a view to making the Japanese think the defending force was so large as to make solicitude unnecessary. This made the Japanese very careful. They made elaborate preparations for the assault. Cutting down bamboos and pine trees they made ladders about eight feet wide and as high as the wall. They also prepared straw mats to protect their heads from missiles from above. But the defenders had also made careful preparations. They had bundles of straw with little packages of powder fastened in them, to cast down on the attacking party. Piles of stones and kettles of hot water were also in readiness. As the assault might take place at night, planks bristling with nails were thrown over the wall. This proved a wise precaution for in fact the attack was made that very night. It raged fiercely for a time, but so many of the Japanese were lamed by the spikes in the planks and so many were burned by the bundles of straw, that at last they had to withdraw, leaving heaps of dead behind. More than half the attacking force were killed and the rest beat a hasty retreat.

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