Corea: The Hermit Nation

by William Elliot Griffis

In the first skirmish, which took place near the town shortly afterward, the allies drove back the Japanese advance detachment with heavy loss. Li-yo-sun, the commander-in-chief, now ordered the army to move against the capital.

In the council of war, held by the Japanese generals, Ishida, who, like Konishi, was a Christian in faith, advised the evacuation of Seoul. This, of course, provoked Kato, who rose and angrily said: “It is a shame for us to give up the capital before we have seen even a single banner of the Ming army. The Coreans and our people at home will call us cowards, and say we were afraid of the Chinamen.” Hot words then passed between the rival generals, but Otani and others made peace between them. All concluded that, in order to guard against treason, the Coreans in the capital must be removed. Thereupon, large portions of the city were set on fire, and houses, gates, bridges, public and private buildings, were soon a level waste of ashes. The people, old and young, of both sexes, sick and well, were driven out at the point of the lance. To the stern necessities of war were added the needless carnage of massacre, and hundreds of harmless natives were cruelly murdered. Only a few lusty men, to be used as laborers and burden-bearers, were spared.

Years after, the memory of this frightful and inhuman slaughter, burdening the conscience of many a Japanese soldier, drove him a penitent suppliant into the monasteries. There, exiled from the world, with shaven head and priestly robe, he spent his days [[116]]in fasting, vigils, and prayers for pardon, seeking to obtain Nirvana with the Eternal Buddha.

Meanwhile the work of fortification went on. The advance guard of the Chinese host were now within a few miles of the city, and daily skirmishes took place. The younger Japanese officers clamored to lead the van against the Chinese, but Kobayékawa, an elderly general, was allowed to arrange the order of battle, and the Japanese army marched out from the capital to the attack in three divisions, Kobayékawa leading the third, or main body of ten thousand men, the others having only three thousand each. In the battle that ensued the Japanese were at first unable to hold their ground against the overwhelming forces of their enemies. The Chinese and Coreans drove back their first and second divisions with heavy loss. Then, thinking victory certain, they began a pursuit with both foot soldiers and cavalry, which led them into disorder and exhausted their strength. When well wearied, Kobayékawa, having waited till they were too far distant from their camp to receive reinforcements, led his division in a charge against the allies. The battle then became a hand-to-hand fight on a gigantic scale. The Chinese were armed mainly with swords, which were short, heavy, and double-edged. The allies had a large number of cavalry engaged, but the ground being miry from the heavy rains, they were unable to form or to charge with effect. Their advantage in other respects was more than counterbalanced by the length of the Japanese swords, the strength of their armor, and their veteran valor and coolness. Even the foot soldiers wielded swords having blades usually two, but sometimes three and four, feet long.

The Japanese have ever prided themselves upon the length, slenderness, temper, and keen edge of their blades, and look with unmeasured contempt upon the short and clumsy weapons of the continental Asiatics. They proudly call their native land “The country ruled by a slender sword.” Marvellous in wonder and voluminousness are their legends, literature, and exact history concerning ken (two-edged, short falchion), and katana (two-handed and single-edged sabre). In this battle it was the sword alone that decided the issue, though firearms lent their deadly aid. The long, cross-bladed spears of their foot soldiers were also highly effective, first, in warding off the sabre strokes of the Chinese cavalry, and then unhorsing them, either by thrust or grapple. One general of high rank was pulled off his steed and killed.

The Japanese leaders were in their best spirits, as well as in [[117]]their finest equipments. One was especially noticeable by his gilded helmet that flashed and towered conspicuously. It was probably that of Kato, whose head-gear was usually of incredible height and dazzling splendor.

After a long struggle and frightful slaughter, the allies were beaten back in confusion. Ten thousand Chinese and Coreans, according to Japanese accounts, were slaughtered on this bloodiest day and severest pitched battle of the first invasion.

The Chinese suffered heavily in officers, and their first taste of war in the field with such veterans as the soldiers of Taikō was discouraging in the extreme. Li-yo-sun drew off his forces and soon after retired to Sunto. Not knowing that Kato had got into Seoul, and fearing an attack from the rear, on Ping-an, he drew off his main body to that city, leaving a garrison at Sunto. Tired, disgusted, and scared, the redoubtable Chinaman, like “the beaten soldier that fears the top of the tall grass,” sent a lying report to Peking, exaggerating the numbers of the Japanese, and asking for release from command, on the usual Oriental plea of poor health. As for the Japanese, they had lost so heavily in killed, that they were unable to follow up the victory, if victory it may be called. A small force, however, pressed forward and occupied Kai-jo, while the main body prepared to pass a miserable winter in the desolate capital.

The Corean stronghold of An-am was also assaulted. This castle was built on a precipitous steep, having but one gate and flank capable of access, and that being a narrow, almost perpendicular, cutting through the rocks. The attacking force entered the gloomy valley shut in from light by the luxuriant forest, which darkened the path even in the daytime. At the tops, and on the ledges of the rocks beetling over the entrance-way, the Corean archers took up advantageous positions, while others of the garrison, with huge masses of rock and timber piled near the ledge, stood ready to hurl these upon the invaders.

Awaiting in silence the approach of their enemies, they soon saw the Japanese fan-standards and paper-strip banners approach, when these were directly beneath them, every bow twanged, and a shower of arrows rained upon the invaders, while volleys of stones fell into their ranks, crushing heads and helmets together. The besiegers were compelled to draw off and arrange a new attack; but in the night the garrison withdrew. Next day the Japanese entered, garrisoned the castle, and decorated it with their streamers. [[118]]