Meanwhile, the court at Seoul, highly gratified with the action of the Japanese government in the matter of the renegade pilots, gave a banquet to the embassy. Yoshitoshi had audience of the king, who presented him with a horse from his own stables. An embassy was chosen which left Seoul, in company with Yoshitoshi and his party, and their musicians and servants, in April, 1590, and, after a journey and voyage of three months, arrived at Kiōto during the summer of 1590. At this time Hidéyoshi was absent in Eastern Japan, not far from the modern city of Tōkiō, besieging Odawara Castle and reducing “the second Hōjō” family to submission. Arriving at Kiōto in the autumn, he postponed audience with the Coreans in order to gain time for war preparations, for his heart was set on conquests beyond sea.
Finally, after five months had passed, they were accorded an interview. They were allowed to ride in palanquins under the gateway of the palace without dismounting—a mark of deference to their high rank—all except nobles of highest grade being compelled to get out and walk. As usual, their band of musicians accompanied them.
They report Hidéyoshi as a man of low appearance, but with eyes that shot fire through their souls. All bowed before him, but his conduct in general was of a very undignified character. This did not raise him in the estimation of his guests, who had already discovered his true position, which was that of a subject of the mikado, whose use of the imperial “we” in his letters was, in their eyes, a preposterous assumption of authority. They delivered the king’s letter, which was addressed to Hidéyoshi on terms of an equal as a Koku O (king of a nation, in distinction from the title of Whang Ti, by which title the Heavenly Ruler, or Emperor—the Mikado of Japan, or the Emperor of China—is addressed). The letter contained the usual commonplaces of [[93]]friendly greeting, the names of the envoys, and a reference to the list of accompanying presents.
The presents—spoken of in the usual terms of Oriental mock modesty—consisted of two ponies and fifteen falcons, with harness for bird and beast, rolls of silk, precious drugs, ink, paper, pens, and twenty magnificent tiger-skins. The interview over, Hidéyoshi wished the envoys to go home at once. This they declined to do, but, leaving Kiōto, waited at the port of Sakai. A letter to the king finally reached them, but couched in so insolent a tone that the ambassadors sent it back several times to be purged. Even in its improved form it was the blustering threat of a Japanese bully. All this consumed time, which was just what Hidéyoshi wished.
Some years before this, some Portuguese trading ships had landed at the island of Tané, off the south of Japan. The Japanese, for the first time, saw Europeans and heard their unintelligible language. At first all attempts to understand them were in vain. A Chinese ship happened to arrive about the same time, on which were some sailors who knew a little Portuguese, and thus communications were held. The foreigners, being handsomely treated, gave their hosts some firearms, probably pistols, taught their use, and how to make powder. These “queer things, able to vomit thunder and lightning, and emitting an awful smell,” were presented to Shimadzŭ, the daimiō of Satsuma, who gave them to Hidéyoshi. Among the presents, made in return to Chō-sen, were several of these new weapons made by Japanese. They were most probably sent as a hint, like that of the Pequot’s offering of the arrows wrapped in snake-skin. With them were pheasants, stands of swords and spears, books, rolls of paper, and four hundred gold koban (a coin worth about $5.00).
With the returning embassy, Hidéyoshi sent the priest and a former colleague of Yoshitoshi to Seoul. They were instructed to ask the king to assist Hidéyoshi to renew peaceful relations between Japan and China. These, owing to the long continued piratical invasions from Japan, during the anarchy of the Ashikaga, had been suspended for some years past.
The peaceful influences of Christianity’s teachings now came between these two pagan nations, in the mind and person of Yoshitoshi, who had professed the faith of Jesus as taught by the Roman Catholic missionaries from Portugal, then in Japan. Be this as it may, Yoshitoshi, who had been in Seoul, and lived in Tsushima, being well acquainted with the military resources of the three [[94]]countries, knew that war would result in ruin to Chō-sen, while, in measuring their swords with China, the Japanese were at fearful odds. Animated by a desire to prevent bloodshed, he resolved to mediate with the olive branch. He started on an independent mission, at his own cost, to persuade the Coreans to use their good offices at mediation between Japan and China, and thus prevent war. Arriving at Fusan, in 1591, he forwarded his petition to Seoul, and waited in port ten days in hopes of the answer he desired. But all was in vain. He received only a letter containing a defiant reply to his master’s bullying letter. In sadness he returned to Kiōto, and reported his ill-success. Surprised and enraged at the indifference of the Coreans, Hidéyoshi pushed on his war preparations with new vigor. He resolved to test to its utmost the military strength of Japan, in order to humble China as well as her vassal. Accustomed to victory under the gourd-banner in almost every battle during the long series of intestine wars now ended, an army of seasoned veterans heard joyfully the order to prepare for a campaign beyond sea.
Hidéyoshi, during this year, nominally resigned the office of Kuambaku, in favor of his son, and, according to usage, took the title of Taikō, by which name (Taikō Sama) he is popularly known, and by which we shall refer to him. Among the Coreans, even of to-day, he is remembered by the title which still inspires their admiration and terror—Kuambaku. Chinese writers give a grotesque account of Hidéyoshi, one of whose many names they read as Ping-syew-kye. They call him “the man under a tree,” in reference to his early nickname of Kinomoto. He is also dubbed “King of Taikō.” The Jesuit missionaries speak of him in their letters as Quabacundono (His Lordship the Kuambaku), or by one of his personal names, Faxiba (Hashiba).
The Coreans were now in a strait. Though under the protectorate of China, they had been negotiating with a foreign power. How would China like this? Should they keep the entire matter secret, or should they inform their suzerain of the intended invasion of China? They finally resolved upon the latter course, and despatched a courier to Peking. About the same time the messenger from Riu Kiu had landed, and was on his way with the same tidings. The Riukiuan reached Peking first, and the Corean arrived only to confirm the news. Yet, in spite of such overwhelming evidence of the designs of Japan, the colossal “tortoise” could, at first, scarce believe “the bee” would attempt to sting. [[95]]