By this time Gen. Yi Il had collected a considerable force, had crossed the great Cho-ryŭng (Pass) and was stationed at Sŭng-ju, in the very path of the invading army. It did not take long to measure his calibre, for no sooner did the rumor of the approach of the Japanese reach him than he turned and fled up the pass. This was bad enough, but his next act was little less than traitorous; he made no attempt to block the pass, even though a mere handful of men could have held it against thousands. It was his one great opportunity to distinguish himself and that he did not improve it speaks as poorly for his generalship as it does for his patriotism[patriotism].
Meanwhile an equally reprehensible event was happening in the south. Governor Kim Su, who had turned aside from meeting the enemy had sent letters to all the prefects ordering them to have soldiers from all the districts rendezvous at Tă-gu and await in camp the arrival of generals from Seoul. The order was obeyed and a large force was congregated at the appointed place; but day after day passed and no generals came. The Japanese were sweeping northward and would soon be upon them. Under the circumstances it should cause little surprise that the camp broke up, each man returning to his own district. This is but one of many cases which go to show that in almost every instance the blame rested not on the soldiers but on the generals and other officers. The soldiers were always willing to go where the generals would lead them.
When Gen. Yi Il fled in panic over Cho-ryŭng and left it undefended his followers naturally objected to remaining under the command of a man who was not only no commander but was a coward to boot. So at last the doughty general found himself stranded in the town of Sang-ju without a soldier at his back. He had hoped to find some troops there under the command of the prefect, Kwŭn Chong-gil. When he found that there were none he flew into a rage and was about to decapitate the prefect, but let him off on condition that he find some troops immediately. This the poor fellow tried to do, but as the whole population was a farming one not a man could be found who had ever borne arms or who knew anything about fighting. Nevertheless, to save his head, he got together some nine hundred raw recruits. At this juncture a messenger came post haste from Ka-ryŭng saying that the Japanese were coming and were already near. Gen. Yi replied: “You lie, this is only a scheme to get me to leave, so that I will not levy any more troops here. Off with his head.” So off it came. That very night the Japanese[Japanese] encamped at Chang-ch‘ŭn-li a few miles away, but Gen. Yi knew nothing about it, as he had no pickets out. The next morning Japanese scouts were seen on the opposite bank of the river reconnoitering. The Koreans saw these scouts but as one man had been beheaded for telling of the approach of the Japanese no one dared to tell the general, and it was not till he heard the firing of guns that he became aware of the proximity of the foe. Then he rushed out and formed up his little garrison as best he could behind the fortifications. Ere long his attention was called to several columns of smoke arising from the town. He sent some of his aides to discover the cause but they fell into the hands of the Japanese and were immediately cut down. When Gen. Yi learned of this he was genuinely alarmed, and his anxiety was added to by seeing two long files of Japanese deploying to right and left and rapidly inclosing him and his forces. There was only one thing to do. Mounting his steed he fled by the only way that was not already blocked. Being hotly pursued he abandoned his horse and the greater part of his clothing and fled into the mountains where he managed to elude his pursuers. In a day or so he appeared at the town of Mun-gyŭng where he wrote a letter telling of his defeat and sent it to Seoul. Hearing that Gen. Sil Yip was at Ch‘ung-ju he hastened to that point and joined him.
Gen. Sil Yip had some time since arrived at his post in Ch‘ung-ju and had prosecuted his work of collecting soldiers with such zeal that he had mustered a force of some eight thousand men. It was his intention to push straight for Cho-ryŭng, the key to the whole situation, but when he heard of the flight and defeat of Gen. Yi Il he fell back to his strong position in Ch‘ung-ju. One of his lieutenants, Kim Yŭ-mul, expostulated with him and said, “We cannot cope with them except in such a place as Cho-ryŭng where the roughness of the land will be of material aid to us,” but the general replied, “No, they are infantry and we are cavalry. If we can once get them into the plain we can use our battle-flails on them with deadly effect.” One of his[his] captains told him that the Japanese had already crossed the Cho-ryŭng, and that night he left the camp secretly and went on a long tour of inspection in order to ascertain whether this was true. When he came back he ordered the instant execution of the captain. This midnight expedition speaks well for his courage and his loyalty.
A few days after the fugitive general, Yi Il, joined the forces of Gen. Sil Yip, the Japanese forces approached. In order to carry out his pet scheme of fighting the Japanese in an open plain where his soldiers could make good use of their battle-flails, Gen. Sil selected a spot that seemed to him most suitable. It was a great amphitheater made by high mountains. Along the other side, like the chord of an arc, flowed the river T‘an-geum da. The only approaches to this plain were two narrow passages at either end where the mountains came down to the river bank. In this death trap, then, Gen. Sil drew up his entire command and awaited the coming of the invaders. It is easy to imagine the glee with which the Japanese saw this arrangement, for it meant the extermination of the only army that lay between them and Seoul. Strong detachments were sent to block the passage at the ends of the plain while the main body scaled the mountains and came down upon the doomed army as if from the sky. The spears and swords of the descending legions flashed like fire while the roar of the musketry made the very earth to tremble. The result was an almost instantaneous stampede. The Koreans made for the two narrow exits but found them heavily guarded by the Japanese. They were now literally between “the devil and the deep blue sea,” for they had the appalling spectacle of the hideously masked Japanese on the one hand and the deep waters of the river on the other. The whole army was driven into the river or mercilessly cut down by the swords of the Japanese. Gen. Sil Yip himself made a brave stand and killed with his own hand seventeen of the enemy before he fell. Out of the whole army only a handful escaped, and among them we are almost sorry to say was the coward Yi Il who managed to get across the river.
Chapter VI.
News of defeat reaches Seoul.... panic.... divided councils.... lack of troops.... general exodus.... indescribable confusion.... straw shoes at a premium.... Princes sent away.... the king leaves Seoul.... Yi Hang-bok attends the Queen.... riotous citizens.... slaves burn the deeds.... palaces in flames.... royal party dwindles.... drenching rain.... the king goes without dinner.... welcome relief.... Japanese approach Seoul.... the race between Kato and Konishi.... no resistance.... the Han left undefended.... an empty victory.... Hideyi’s quarters.... the Japanese in Seoul.... the king orders the Im-jin River guarded.... the king enters P‘yŭng-yang.... a coward.... the Im-jin guarded.... the Japanese impetus checked.
Meanwhile the city of Seoul was waiting breathless for news of a victory by Gen. Sil Yip. The terrors of the horde of half-savage soldiers from the islands of Japan had passed from mouth to mouth and all, from the king to the humblest coolie, knew that Gen. Sil Yip alone stood between them and that dreaded host. One morning a naked soldier was seen approaching the South Gate on a run. He bore the marks of battle and as he passed under the great arch of the gate a hundred hands were stretched[stretched] out to greet him and a hundred voices demanded news of the battle. He cried, “I am one of the followers of Sil Yip and I come to tell the city that yesterday he fell at the hand of the Japanese. I have escaped with my life and I am come to tell you that flight is your only hope.” The people were fearfully agitated. The evil news spread from mouth to mouth and a great wailing arose from the multitude that thronged the streets.
It was the last day of the fourth moon and that night the king, not knowing at what moment the enemy might be thundering at his gates, took up his quarters in a secluded part of the palace, “The Old Palace” as it is now called, and gathered about him all his courtiers and officers and held a great council. The only question was, “Where shall we[we] go?”
Yi San-ha the Minister of War said “The Court should remove to P‘yŭng-yang,” but Yi Hang-bok, an official who was destined to figure prominently in the war, said, “It will not be enough to go to P‘yŭng-yang. We must send and ask aid of China.” On the other hand Kim Kwi-yŭng and a host of other officials said, “No, the king should stay right here and defend his capital.” The king himself, after listening to all that had to be said, agreed with the majority that it would be best to stay and defend the city. He said, “The ancestral temple with all the tablets of my illustrious ancestors is here. How can I go and leave them? Let the Minister of War immediately detail troops to man the walls.” But it was just here that difficulty arose and it showed clearly why the Minister of War had counselled flight. The city wall has thirty thousand battlements and each battlement has three embrasures, but in the whole city there were only seven thousand troops. This was not a tenth part the number that would be required to man the walls. This lack of soldiers was due to the fact that in the long centuries of peace it had become customary for the government[become customary for the government] to receive a money equivalent in place of military service. As a result only the very poorest of the poor were enrolled in the army, and the service consequently suffered. This bad custom, while it argues corrupt practices among the officials, does not prove the absence of courage or faithfulness among the people, and we shall find that the people were as a rule true to their duty when they were properly led.