Corea: The Hermit Nation

It will be remembered that the first Chinese settler and civilizer of Corea, Ki Tsze, gave it the name of Chō-sen. Coming from violence and war, to a land of peace which lay eastward of his old home, Ki Tsze selected for his new dwelling-place a name at once expressive of its outward position and his own inward emotions—Chō-sen, or Morning Calm.

For eleven centuries a part of Manchuria, including, as the Coreans believe, the northern half of the peninsula, bore this name. From the Christian era until the tenth century, the names of the three kingdoms, Shinra, Hiaksai, and Kokorai, or Korai, express the divided political condition of the country. On the fall of these petty states, the united peninsula was called Korai. Korai existed from A.D. 934 until A.D. 1392, when the ancient name of Chō-sen was restored. Though the Coreans often speak of their country as Korai (Gauli, or Gori), it is as the English speak of Britain—with a patriotic feeling rather than for accuracy. Chō-sen is still the official and popular designation of the country. This name is at once the oldest and the newest.

The first bestowal of this name on the peninsula was in poetic mood, and was the symbol of a peaceful triumph. The second gift of the name was the index of a political revolution not unaccompanied with bloodshed. The latter days of the dynasty founded by Wang were marked by licentiousness and effeminacy in the palace, and misrule in the country. The people hated the cruelties of their monarch, the thirty-second of his line, and longed for a deliverer. Such a one was Ni Taijo (Japanese, Ri Seiki), who was born in the region of Broughton’s Bay, in the Ham-kiung province. It is said of him that from his youth he surpassed all others in virtue, intelligence, and skill in manly exercises. He was especially fond of hunting with the falcon.

One day, while in the woods, his favorite bird, in pursuing its [77]quarry, flew so far ahead that it was lost to the sight of its master. Hastening after it the young man espied a shrine at the roadside into which he saw his hawk fly. Entering, he found within a hermit priest. Awed and abashed at the weird presence of the white-bearded sage, the lad for a moment was speechless; but the old man, addressing him, said: “What benefit is it for a youth of your abilities to be seeking a stray falcon? A throne is a richer prize. Betake yourself at once to the capital.”

Acting upon the hint thus given him, and leaving the falcon behind, Taijo wended his way westward to Sunto, and entered the military service of the king. He soon made his mark and rapidly rose to high command, until he became lieutenant-general of the whole army. He married and reared children, and through the espousal of his daughter by the king, became father-in-law to his sovereign.

The influence of Taijo was now immense. While with his soldierly abilities he won the enthusiastic regard of the army, his popularity with the people rested solely on his virtues. Possessed of such influence with the court, the soldiers, and the country at large, he endeavored to reform the abuse of power and to curb the cruelties of the king. Even to give advice to a despot is an act of bravery, but Taijo dared to do it again and again. The king, however, refused to follow the counsel of his father-in-law or to reform abuses. He thus daily increased the odium in which he was held by his subjects.

Such was the state of affairs toward the end of the fourteenth century, when everything was ripe for revolution.

In China, great events, destined to influence “the little kingdom,” were taking place. The Mongol dynasty, even after the breaking up of the empire founded by Genghis Khan, still held the dragon throne; but during the later years of their reign, when harassed by enemies at home, Corea was neglected and her tribute remained unpaid. A spasmodic attempt to resubdue the lapsed vassal, and make Corea a Mongol castle of refuge from impending doom, was ruined by the energy and valor of Ni Taijo. The would-be invaders were driven back. The last Mongol emperor fell in 1341, and the native Ming, or “Bright,” dynasty came into power, and in 1368 was firmly established.

Their envoys being sent to Corea demanded pledges of vassalage. The king neglected, finally refused, and ordered fresh levies to be made to resist the impending invasion of the Chinese. In [78]this time of gloom and bitterness against their own monarch, the army contained but a pitifully small number of men who could be depended on to fight the overwhelming host of the Ming veterans. Taijo, in an address to his followers, thus spoke to them:

“Although the order from the king must be obeyed, yet the attack upon the Ming soldiers, with so small an army as ours, is like casting an egg against a rock, and no one of the army will return alive. I do not tell you this from any fear of death, but our king is too haughty. He does not heed our advice. He has ordered out the army suddenly without cause, paying no attention to the suffering which wives and children of the soldiers must undergo. This is a thing I cannot bear. Let us go back to the capital and the responsibility shall fall on my shoulders alone.”

Thereupon the captains and soldiers being impressed with the purity of their leader’s motives, and admiring his courage, resolved to obey his orders and not the king’s. Arriving at Sunto, he promptly took measures to depose the king, who was sent to Kang-wa, the island so famous in modern as in ancient and mediæval history.

The king’s wrath was very great, and he intrigued to avenge himself. His plot was made known, by one of his retainers, to Taijo, who, by a counter-movement, put forth the last radical measure which, in Chinese Asia means, for a private person, disinheritance; for a king, deposition; and for a royal line, extinction. This act was the removal of the tablets of the king’s ancestors from their shrine, and the issue of an order forbidding further continuance of sacrifice to them. This Corean and Chinese method of clapping the extinguisher upon a whole dynasty was no sooner ordered than duly executed.

Ni Taijo was now made king, to the great delight of the people. He sent an embassy to Nanking to notify the Ming emperor of affairs in the “outpost state,” to tender his loyal vassalage, to seek the imperial approval of his acts, and to beg his investiture as sovereign. This was graciously granted. The ancient name of Chō-sen was revived, and at the petitioner’s request conferred upon the country by the emperor, who profited by this occasion to enforce upon the Coreans his calendar and chronology—the reception of these being in itself alone tantamount to a sufficient declaration of fealty. Friendship being now fully established with the Mings, the king of Chō-sen sent a number of youths, sons of his nobles, to Nanking to study in the imperial Chinese college. [79]

The dynasty thus established is still the reigning family in Corea, though the direct line came to an end in 1864. The Coreans in their treaty with Japan, in 1876, dated the document according to the 484th year of Chō-sen, reckoning from the accession of Ni Taijo to the throne. One of the first acts of the new dynasty was to make a change in the location of the national capital. The new dynasty made choice of the city of Han Yang, situated on the Han River, about fifty miles from its mouth. The king enlarged the fortifications, enclosed the city with a wall of masonry of great extent, extending over the adjacent hills and valleys. On this wall was a rampart pierced with port-holes for archers and over the streams were built arches of stone. He organized the administrative system which, with slight modification, is still in force at the present time. The city being well situated, soon grew in extent, and hence became the seoul or capital (pronounced [80]by the Chinese king, as in Nanking and Peking, and the Japanese kio, as in Kiōto and Tōkiō). He also re-divided the kingdom into eight dō or provinces. This division still maintains. The names, formed each of two Chinese characters joined to that of dō (circuit or province), and approximate meanings are given below.1 With such names of bright omen, “the eight provinces” entered upon an era of peace and flourishing prosperity. The people found out that something more than a change of masters was meant by the removal of the capital to a more central situation. Vigorous reforms were carried out, and changes were made, not only in political administration, but in social life, and even in religion. In all these the influence of the China of the Ming emperors is most manifest.

Buddhism, which had penetrated into every part of the country, and had become, in a measure, at least, the religion of the state, was now set aside and disestablished. The Confucian ethics and the doctrines of the Chinese sages were not only more diligently studied and propagated under royal patronage, but were incorporated into the religion of the state. From the early part of the fifteenth century, Confucianism flourished until it reached the point of bigotry and intolerance; so that when Christianity was discovered by the magistrates to be existing among the people, it was put under the band of extirpation, and its followers thought worthy of death. [81]

[82]

Whatever may have been the motive for supplanting Buddhism, whether from sincere conviction of the paramount truth of the ancient ethics, or a desire to closely imitate the Middle Kingdom in everything, even in religion, or to obtain easy and great wealth by confiscating the monastery and temple lands, it is certain that the change was sweeping, radical, and thorough. All observers testify that the cult of Shaka in Corea is almost a shadow. On the other hand, in many cities throughout the land, are buildings and halls erected and maintained by the government, in which sit in honor the statues of Confucius and his greatest disciples.

One great measure that tended to strengthen and make popular the new religious establishment, to weaken the old faith, to give strength and unity to the new government, to foster education and make the Corean literary classes what they are to-day—critical scholars in Chinese—was what Americans would call “civil service reform.” Appointment to office on the basis of merit, as shown in the literary examinations, was made the rule. Modelled closely upon the Chinese system, three grades of examinations were appointed, and three degrees settled. All candidates for military or civil rank and office must possess diplomas, granted by the royal or provincial examiners, before appointment could be made or salary begun. The system, which is still in vogue, is more fully described in the chapter on education.

Among the changes in the fashion of social life, introduced under the Ni dynasty, was the adoption of the Ming costume. To the Chinese of to-day the Corean dress and coiffure, as seen in Peking, are subjects for curiosity and merriment. The lack of a long queue, and the very different cut, form, and general appearance of these eastern strangers, strike the eye of mandarin and street laborer alike, very much as a gentleman in knee-breeches, cocked hat, and peruke, or the peasant costumes at Castle Garden, appear to a New Yorker, stepping from the elevated railway, on Broadway.

Yet from the fourteenth to the seventeenth century, the Chinese gentleman dressed like the Corean of to-day, and the mandarin of Canton or Nanking was as innocent of the Tartar hair-tail as is the citizen of Seoul. The Coreans simply adhere to the fashions prevalent during the Ming era. The Chinese, in the matter of garb, however loath foreigners may be to credit it, are more progressive than their Corean neighbors.

To the house of Ni belongs also the greater honor of abolishing [83]at least two cruel customs which had their roots in superstition. Heretofore the same rites which were so long in vogue in Japan, traces of which were noticed even down to the seventeenth century, held unchallenged sway in Corea. Ko-rai-chang, though not fully known in its details, was the habit of burying old men alive. In-chei was the offering up of human sacrifices, presumably to the gods of the mountains and the sea. Both of these classes of rites, at once superstitious and horrible, were anciently very frequent; nor was Buddhism able to utterly abolish them. In the latter case, they choked the victims to death, and then threw them into the sea. The island of Chansan was especially noted as the place of propitiation to the gods of the sea.

The first successors of the founder of the house of Ni held great power, which they used for the good of the people, and hence enjoyed great popularity. The first after Taijo reigned two years, from 1398 to 1400. Hetai-jong, who came after him, ruled eighteen years, and among other benefits conferred, established the Sin-mun-ko, or box for the reception of petitions addressed directly to the king. Into this coffer, complaints and prayers from the people could lawfully and easily be dropped. Though still kept before the gate of the royal palace in Seoul, it is stated that access to it is now difficult. It seems to exist more in name than in fact. Among the first diplomatic acts of King Hetai-jong was to unite with the Chinese emperor, in a complaint to the mikado of Japan, against the buccaneers, whom the authorities of the latter country were unable to control. Hence the remonstrance was only partially successful, and the evil, which was aggravated by Corean renegades acting as pilots, grew beyond all bounds. These rascals made a lucrative living by betraying their own countrymen.

Siei-jong, who succeeded to the throne on the death of his father, Hetai-jong, enjoyed a long reign of thirty-two years, during which the fortifications of the capital were added to and strengthened. The Manchius beyond the Ever-white Mountains were then beginning to rise in power, and Liao Tung was disturbed by the raids of tribes from Mongolia, which the Ming generals were unable to suppress. When the fighting took place within fifty miles of her own boundary river, Chō-sen became alarmed, and looked to the defence of her own frontier and capital. In 1450, on the death of the king, who “in time of peace prepared for war,” Mun-jong, his son, succeeded to royal power. As usual [84]on the accession of a new sovereign, a Chinese ambassador was despatched from Peking, which had been the Ming capital since 1614, to Seoul, to confer the imperial patent of investiture. This dignitary, on his return, wrote a book recounting his travels, under the title of “Memorandum concerning the Affairs of Chō-sen.” According to this writer, the military frontier of Corea at that time was at the Eastern Mountain Barrier, a few miles northwest of the present Border Gate. Palladius, the Russian writer, also states that, during the Ming dynasty, three grades of fortresses were erected on the territory between the Great Wall and the Yalu River, “to guard against the attacks of the Coreans.”

It is more in accordance with the facts to suppose that the Chinese erected these fortifications to guard against invasion from the Manchius and other northern tribes that were ravaging Liao Tung, rather than against the Coreans. These defences did not avail to keep back the invasion which came a generation or two later, and “the Corean frontier,” which the Chinese traveller, in 1450, found much further west than even the present “wall of stakes,” shows that the neutral territory was then already established, and larger than it now is. Of this strip of rich forest and ginseng land, with many well-watered and arable valleys, once cultivated and populous, but since the fifteenth century desolate, we shall hear again. In Chinese atlases the space is blank, with not one village marked where, until the removal by the Chinese government of the inhabitants westward, there was a population of 300,000 souls. The depopulation of this large area of fertile soil was simply a Chinese measure of military necessity, which compelled her friendly ally Chō-sen, for her own safety, to post sentinels as far west of her boundary river as the Eastern Mountain Barrier, described by the imperial envoy in 1450.

The century which saw America discovered in the west, was that of Japan’s greatest activity on the sea. On every coast within their reach, from Tartary to Tonquin, and from Luzon to Siam, these bold marauders were known and feared. The Chinese learned to bitterly regret the day when the magnetic needle, invented by themselves, got into the hands of these daring islanders. The wounded eagle that felt the shaft, which had been feathered from his own plumes, was not more to be pitied than the Chinese people that saw the Japanese craft steering across the Yellow Sea to ravage and ruin their cities, guided by the compass bought in China. They not only harried the coasts, but went far [85]up the rivers. In 1523, they landed even at Ningpo, and in the fight the chief mandarin of the city was killed.

Yet, with the exception of incursions of these pirates, Chō-sen enjoyed the sweets of peace, and two centuries slipped away in Morning Calm. The foreign vessels from Europe which first, in 1530, touched at the province of Bungo, in Southern Japan, may possibly have visited some part of the Corean shores. Between 1540 and 1546 four arrivals of “black ships” from Portugal, are known to have called at points in Japan. It was from these the Japanese learned how to make the gunpowder and firearms which, before the close of the century, were to be used with such deadly effect in Corea.

Now came back to Europe accounts of China and Japan—which were found to be the old Kathay, and Zipangu of Polo and the Franciscans[86]—and of “Coria,” which Polo had barely mentioned. It was from the Portuguese, that Europe first learned of this middle land between the mighty domain of the Mings, and the empire in the sea. Stirred by the spirit of adventure and enterprise, and unwilling that the Iberian peninsulars should gain all the glory, an English “Society for the Discovery of Unknown Lands” was formed in 1555. A voyage was made as far as Novaia Zemlia and Weigatz, but neither Corea nor Cathay was reached. Other attempts to find a northeast passage to India failed, and Asia remained uncircumnavigated until our own and Nordenskjöld’s day. The other attempts to discover a northwest passage to China around the imaginary cape, in which North America was supposed to terminate, and through the equally fictitious straits of Anian, resulted in the discoveries of the Cabots, and of Hudson and Frobisher—of the American continent from the Hudson River to Greenland, but the way to China lay still around Africa.

From Japan, the only possibility of danger during these two centuries was likely to come. In the north, west, and south, on the main land, hung the banners of the Ming emperors of China, and, as the tribute enforced was very light, the protection of her great neighbor was worth to Chō-sen far more than the presents she gave. From China there was nothing to fear.

At first the new dynasty sent ships, embassies, and presents regularly to Japan, which were duly received, yet not at the mikado’s palace in Kiōto, but at the shō-gun’s court at Kamakura, twelve miles from the site of the modern Japanese capital, Tōkiō. But as the Ashikaga family became effeminate in life, their power waned, and rival chiefs started up all over the country. Clan fights and chronic intestine war became the rule in Japan. Only small areas of territory were governed from Kamakura, while the mikado became the tool and prey of rival daimiōs. One of these petty rulers held Tsushima, and traded at a settlement on the Corean coast called Fusan, by means of which some intercourse was kept up between the two countries. The Japanese government had always made use of Tsushima in its communications with the Coreans, and the agency at Fusan was composed almost exclusively of retainers of the feudal lord of this island. The journey by land and sea from Seoul to Kamakura, often consumed two or three months, and with civil wars inland and piracy on the water, intercourse between the two countries became less and less. The last embassy from Seoul was sent in 1460, but after that, [87]owing to continued intestine war, the absence of the Coreans was not noticed by the Ashikagas, and as the Tsushima men purposely kept their customers ignorant of the weakness of their rulers at Kamakura and Kiōto, lest the ancient vassals should cease to fear their old master, the Coreans remained in profound ignorance of the real state of affairs in Japan. As they were never summoned, so they never came. Giving themselves no further anxiety concerning the matter, they rejoiced that such disagreeable duties were no longer incumbent upon them. It is even said in Corean histories that their government took the offensive, and under the reign of the king Chung-jong (1506–1544) captured Tsushima and several other Japanese islands, formerly tributary to Corea. Whatever fraction of truth there may be in this assertion, it is certain that Japan afterward took ample revenge on the score both of neglect and of reprisal.

So, under the idea that peace was to last forever, and the morning calm never to know an evening storm, the nation relaxed all vigilance. Expecting no danger from the east, the military resources were neglected, the army was disorganized, and the castles were allowed to dilapidate into ruin. The moats filled and became shallow ditches, choked with vegetation, the walls and ramparts crumbled piecemeal, and the barracks stood roofless. As peace wore sweeter charms, and as war seemed less and less probable, so did all soldierly duties become more and more irksome. The militia system was changed for the worse. The enrolled men, instead of being called out for muster at assigned camps, and trained to field duty and the actual evolutions of war, were allowed to assemble at local meetings to perform only holiday movements. The muster rolls were full of thousands of names, but off paper the army of Corea was a phantom. The people, dismissing all thought of possibility of war, gave themselves no concern, leaving the matter to the army officials, who drew pay as though in actual war. They, in turn, devoted themselves to dissipation, carousing, and sensual indulgence. It was while the country was in such a condition that the summons of Japan’s greatest conqueror came to them and the Coreans learned, for the first time, of the fall of Ashikaga, and the temper of their new master. [88]