Читать книгу The History of Korea - Homer B. Hulbert - Страница 18

Table of Contents

Ko-gu-ryŭ relations with the Sui court. … Ko-gu-ryŭ suspected … takes the offensive … submits … the Emperor suspicious … the great Chinese invasion. … Chinese allies. … Ko-gu-ryŭ’s allies. … Chinese cross the Liao … go into camp … naval expedition … defeated at P‘yŭng-yang … routes of the Chinese army. … Ko-gu-ryŭ spy. … Ko-gu-ryŭ lures the Chinese on … pretense of surrender. … Chinese retreat … terrible slaughter. … Păk-je neutral … second invasion … siege of Liao-tung fortress. … Chinese retire … and give up the contest … treaty with the T’ang Emperor … triangular war renewed. … China neutral … guerilla warfare … first woman sovereign. … Păk-je retrogrades … attacks Sil-la. … Păk-je’s terrible mistake. … Chinese spy … rise of Hap So-mun … the tortoise and the rabbit. … Taoism introduced. … China finally sides with Sil-la … and announces her program … preparations for war … the invasion … siege of Liao-tung Fortress … siege of An-si Fortress. … Chinese retire.

We have seen that Ko-gu-ryŭ did not respond freely to the friendly advances of the Sui power in China. Although a Sui envoy came and conferred investiture upon the king in 590, yet the relations were not cordial. Something was lacking. A mutual suspicion existed which kept them both on the watch for signs of treachery. But two years later the king did obeisance to the Emperor and was apparently taken into his good graces. And now the net began to be drawn about Ko-gu-ryŭ. Her position had always been precarious. She was the largest of the peninsular kingdoms and the nearest to China. She was also nearest to the wild tribes who periodically joined in an attempt to overthrow the Chinese ruling dynasty. So Ko-gu-ryŭ was always more or less suspected of ulterior designs and she seems to have realised it, for she always sedulously cultivated the good-will of the Emperors. She knew very well that with Sil-la and Păk-je, hereditary enemies, at her back, the day when she fell under the serious suspicion of any strong dynasty in China would be her day of doom. And so it proved in the end. She had now thoroughly alienated the good-will and aroused the suspicions of the Sui Emperor; Sil-la and Păk-je were in his good graces, and stirring times were at hand. These two rival powers sent envoys to China urging the Emperor to unite with them in invading Ko-gu-ryŭ and putting an end to her once for all. To this the Emperor assented. Ko-gu-ryŭ knew that the fight was on and, being the warlike power that she was, she boldly determined to take the offensive. Drawing on her faithful allies the Mal-gal for 10,000 troops she despatched these, together with her own army, to western Liao-tung and across the river Liao, where the town of Yŭng-ju was attacked and taken. This was her declaration of war. The Emperor in 598 proclaimed the royal title withdrawn from the king of Ko-gu-ryŭ and an army of 300,000 men was put in motion toward the frontier. At the same time a naval expedition was fitted out. But reverses occurred; storms by sea and bad management of the commissariat by land rendered the expedition a failure. It opened the eyes of the Ko-gu-ryŭ king however and he saw that the Emperor was fully determined upon his destruction. He saw but one way to make himself safe and that was by abject submission. He therefore hastened to tell the Emperor, “I am a base and worthless subject, vile as ordure,” which was received by the Emperor with considerable complaisancy, and a show of pardon was made; but it was probably done only to keep Ko-gu-ryŭ from active preparations until China could equip a much larger army and put it in the field. Păk-je, who did not like to see affairs brought to a halt at this interesting juncture, sent an envoy to China offering to act as guide, to lead a Chinese army against the foe. When Ko-gu-ryŭ learned of this her anger knew no bounds and she began to make reprisals upon Păk-je territory.

About this time the Sui Emperor had business in the north. The Tol-gwŭl tribe needed chastisement. When the Chinese forces entered the chief town of the humbled tribe they found a Ko-gu-ryŭ emissary there. This fed the Emperor’s suspicions for it looked as if Ko-gu-ryŭ were preparing a league of the wild tribes for the purpose of conquest. He therefore sent to Ko-gu-ryŭ saying “The king should not be afraid of me. Let him come himself and do obeisance. If not, I shall send and destroy him.” We may well imagine that this pressing invitation was declined by the king.

The last year of the sixth century witnessed the compilation of the first great history of Ko-gu-ryŭ, in 100 volumes. It was named the Yu-geui or “Record of Remembrance.”

It took China some years to get ready for the carrying out of her plan, but at last in 612 began one of the mightiest military movements in history. China massed upon the western bank of the Liao River an army of 1,130,000 men. There were forty regiments of cavalry and eighty of infantry. The army was divided into twenty-four battalions, marching with an interval of forty li between each, so that the entire army stretched for 960 li or 320 miles along the road. Eighty li in the rear came the Emperor with his body-guard.

When this enormous army reached the banks of the Liao they beheld on the farther bank the soldiers of Ko-gu-ryŭ. Nothing can better prove the hardihoodhardihood of the Ko-gu-ryŭ soldiery than that, when they saw this well-nigh innumerable host approach, they dared to dispute the crossing of the river.

The Chinese army was composed of Chinese regulars and of allies from twenty-four of their dependencies whose names are given as follows. Nu-bang, Chang-jam, Myŭng-hă, Kă-ma, Kön-an, Nam-so, Yo-dong, Hyŭn-do, Pu-yŭ, Nang-nang, Ok-jŭ, Chŭm-sŭn, Ham-ja, Hon-mi, Im-dun, Hu-sŭng, Che-hă, Tap-don, Suk-sin, Kal-sŭk, Tong-i, Tă-bang and Yang-p’yŭng. One would suppose from this long list that there could be few left to act as allies to Ko-gu-ryŭ, but when we remember that the Mal-gal group of tribes was by far the most powerful and warlike of all the northern hordes we will see that Ko-gu-ryŭ was not without allies. In addition to this, Ko-gu-ryŭ had two important factors in her favor; in summer the rains made the greater part of Liao-tung impassable either for advance or retreat, and in winter the severity of the weather rendered military operations next to impossible. Only two courses were therefore open to antherefore open to an invading army; either it must make a quick dash into Ko-gu-ryŭ in the spring or autumn and retire before the summer rains or winter storms, or else it must be prepared to go into camp and spend the inclement season in an enemy’s country, cut off from its base of supplies. It was in the spring that this invasion took place and the Emperor was determined to carry it through to a finish in spite of summer rains or winter storms.

No sooner had the Chinese army reached the Liao River than the engineers set to work bridging the stream. So energetically was the work done that in two days a double span was thrown across. There had been a miscalculation however, for it fell six feet short of reaching the eastern bank, and the Ko-gu-ryŭ soldiers were there to give them a warm welcome. The Chinese troops leaped from the unfinished end of the bridge and tried to climb up the steep bank, but were again and again driven back. The eastern bank was not gained until Gen Măk Chŭl-jang leaped to the shore and mowed a path for his followers with his sword. At this point the Ko-gu-ryŭ generals Chön Sa-ung and Măng Keum-ch’a were killed.

When the whole army had effected a crossing the Emperor sent 1200 troops to occupy the fortified town of Liao-tung but the Ko-gu-ryŭ general, Eul-ji Mun-dŭk, hastened thither and drove back this detachment of Chinese in confusion. The Emperor learned of the retreat and proceeded toward the scene of action. When he came up with the flying detachments of his defeated force he severely reprimanded the generals in charge and chided them for being lazy and afraid of death. But it was now late in June and the rainy season was at hand, so the Emperor with his whole army went into camp at Yuk-hap Fortress a little to the west of the town of Liao-tung, to await the end of the wet season.

He was unwilling however to let all this time pass without any active work; so he sent a fleet of boats by sea to sail up the Ta-dong River and attack P’yüng-yang. This was under the leadership of Gen. Nă Ho-a. Landing his force on the bank of the Ta-dong, sixty li below the city, he enjoyed there a signal victory over a small force which had been sent to head him off. This made the general over-confident and in spite of the protests of his lieutenants he marched on P‘yŭng-yang without an hour’s delay. With twenty thousand troops he went straight into the town, the gates being left wide open for him. This was a ruse on the part of the Ko-gu-ryŭ forces. A strong body of Ko-gu-ryŭ troops had hidden in a monastery in Nă-gwak Fort on the heights within the city. The Chinese found themselves entrapped and Gen. Nă was forced to beat a hasty retreat with what forces he had left, and at last got back to Hă-p’o (harbor) in Liao-tung. What the Emperor said to him is not known but it could not have been flattering.

The rainy season had now come and gone and the main plan of the invasion was ready to be worked out. It was necessary for the Emperor to spread out his force over the country in order to find forage, and so, in approaching the borders of Ko-gu-ryŭ, it was decided that they should come by several different routes. Gen. U Mun-sul led a detachment by way of Pu-yŭ, Gen. U Chung-mun by way of Nang-nang, Gen. Hyŭng Wŭn-hang by way of Yo-dong, Gen. Sŭl Se-ung by way of Ok-jŭ, Gen. Sin Se-ung by way of Hyŭn-do, Gen. Chang Keun by way of Yang-p’yăng, Gen. Cho Hyo-jă by way of Kal-sŭk, Gen. Ch’oe Hong-seung by way of Su-sung, Gen. Wi Mun-seung by way of Cheung-ji. It is said that they all rendezvoused on the western bank of the Yalu River, but if so there must have been great changes in the position of these wild tribes. It is more than probable that like the North American Indians they had moved further and further back from their original lands until they were far beyond the Yalu and Tumen rivers.

In the early autumn of 612 the whole army lay just east of the Yalu River.

The king of Ko-gu-ryŭ sent Gen. Eul-ji Mun-dŭk to the Chinese camp to tender the Emperor a pretense of surrender but in reality to spy out his position and force. When he appeared the Emperor was minded to kill him on the spot but thought better of it and, after listening to what he had to say, let him go. Not an hour after he had gotten beyond the Chinese pickets the Emperor changed his mind again and sent in pursuit of him; but the general had too good a start and made too good use of his time to allow himself to be retaken.

And now appeared one of the disadvantages of being far from one’s base of supplies, and in an enemy’s country. Some weeks before this each Chinese soldier had been given three bags of rice and told that he must carry them on the march, besides his other necessary accoutrements. Death was to the penalty of throwing any of it away. The result was that most of them buried a large part of the rice in their tents and so escaped detection. Now they were short of provisions, while the generals thought their knapsacks were full of rice. The Ko-gu-ryŭ Gen. Eul-ji, who had been in their camp, however, knew about it. He entered upon a geurillageurilla warfare with the object of luring the enemy far into Ko-gu-ryŭ territory and then cutting them to pieces at leisure. To this end he made a feigned retreat several times each day, thus giving the enemy confidence and blinding them to his own strength. It was decided that a Chinese force of 305,000 men under Gen. U Chung-mun should proceed straight to P’yŭng-yang. It seemed wholly unnecessary that the whole army of 1,130,000 men should undergo that long march when only a pusillanimous enemy barred the way.

On they came toward the capital without meeting anything but a few skirmishers, until they reached the Sal-su, a stream only thirty li from P’yŭng-yang. Crossing this the Chinese went into camp for a few days to recover from the fatigue of the rapid march before attacking the town.

At this point Gen. Eul-ji began operations. He wrote a very humble letter sueingsueing for mercy. When the Chinese general received this, his course of reasoning must have been something as follows: “My forces are completely exhausted by this long march; the provisions are almost gone; I shall find the capital defended by desperate men; it may be that I shall be handled as roughly as were the forces of Gen. Nă. I will accept this submission and start back in time to reach the Yalu before my provisions are entirely gone. I will thus spare my army and gain the desired end as well.”

Whether this was his course of reasoning or not, sure it is that he accepted the submission tendered him and put his army in motion toward the Yalu. But before his forces had gone a mile they found themselves attacked on all sides at once by an unseen foe which seemed to fill the forests on either side the road. When half the army had gotten across the Sal-su the other half was fiercely attacked and cut to pieces or driven like dumb cattle over the face of the country, where they were butchered at leisure. The retreat became a flight, the flight a rout, and still the Ko-gu-ryŭ soldiers hung on their flanks like wolves and dragged them down by scores and hundreds. It is said that in a single day and night the fugitive Chinese covered four hundredhundred and fifty li, and when the remnant of that noble army of 305,000 men that had swept across the Yalu went back across that historic stream it was just 2700 strong. Over 300,000 men had perished along the hill-sides and among the forests of Ko-gu-ryŭ. The Emperor in anger imprisoned the over-confident Gen. U Chung-mun.

Meanwhile what of Păk-je? She had promised that she would rise and strike Ko-gu-ryŭ simultaneously with the Emperor, but when the moment for action came, like the paltroonpaltroon that she was, she waited to see which side would be most likely to win in the end. When the Chinese fled back to the border in panic Păk-je quietly stacked her arms and said nothing about attacking her neighbor.

Winter was now at hand, or would be before another plan could be perfected and carried out. The army was without provisions. There was nothing left but to retreat. The Chinese army, still a mighty host, moved slowly back across the Liao River and Ko-gu-ryŭ was left to her own pleasant musings. All that China gained was that portion of Ko-gu-ryŭ lying west of the Liao River, which the Emperor erected into three prefectures.

If Ko-gu-ryŭ flattered herself that her troubles were all over she was wofully mistaken. With the opening of spring the Emperor’s determination to humble her was as strong as ever. All the courtiers urged him to give over the attempt. They had seen enough of Ko-gu-ryŭ. The Emperor, however, was firm in his determination, and in the fourth moon another army was launched against the hardy little kingdom to the east. It crossed the Liao without opposition but when it arrived at Tong-whang Fortress, near the present Eui-ju, it attempted in vain to take it. The Emperor decided therefore to make a thorough conquest of all the Liao-tung territory and delimit the possessions of Ko-gu-ryŭ as far as the Yalu River, To this end siege was laid to the Fortress of Liao-tung. After twenty days the town was still intact and the Chinese seemingly as far from victory as ever. Ladders were tried but without effect. A bank of earth was thrown upup as high as the wall of the town, but this too failed. Platforms of timber were erected and rolled up to the wall on trucks of eight wheels each. This seemed to promise success but just as the attempt was to be made fortune favored Ko-gu-ryŭ, for news came to the Chinese that an insurrection had arisen in China, headed by Yang Hyŭn-gam. The tents were hastily struck and the army by forced marches moved rapidly back towards China. At first the Ko-gu-ryŭ forces thought this was a mere feint but when the truth was known they rushed in pursuit and succeeded in putting several thousands of the Chinese braves hors de combat.

The following year the Emperor wanted to return to the charge but an envoy came from Ko-gu-ryŭ offering the king’s humble submission. To this the Emperor replied “Then let him come in person and present it.” This he would not do.

Four years later the king of Ko-gu-ryŭ died and his brother Kön-mu assumed control. It was in this same year 618 that the great T’ang dynasty was founded on the ruins of the Sui and the fear of vengeance was lifted from Ko-gu-ryŭ. She immediately sent an envoy to the T’ang court offering her allegiance. Păk-je and Sil-la were only a year behind her in paying their respects to the new Emperor. As a test of Ko-gu-ryŭ sincerity, Emperor Kao-tsu demanded that she send back the captives taken during the late war. As the price of peace Ko-gu-ryŭ complied and sent back 10,000 men. The next year the T’ang Emperor conferred the title of royalty upon all the three kings of the peninsula which, instead of settling the deadly feud between them, simply opened a new and final scene of the fratricidal struggle. To Ko-gu-ryŭ the Emperor sent books on the Shinto faith, of the introduction of which into Korea we here have the first intimation.

Now that danger from the west no longer threatened Ko-gu-ryŭ, she turned to her neighbors and began to exercise her arms upon them. Păk-je also attacked Sil-la fiercely and soon a triangular war was being waged in the peninsula which promised to be a war of extermination unless China should interfere. Of course each wished the Emperor to interfere in her behalf and each plied the throne of China with recriminations of the others and with justifications of herself until the Emperor was wholly at a loss to decide between them. Perhaps it was not his policy to put an end to the war but let it rage until the whole peninsula was exhausted, when it would become an easy prey to his arms. At any rate he gave encouragement to none of them but simply told them to stop fighting. Ko-gu-ryŭ diplomatically added to her supplications a request for Buddhist, Taoist and Shinto teachers.

The details of this series of hostilities between the three Korean states form a tangled skein. First one border fort was taken and then recovered, then the same was repeated at another point; and so it went all along the line, now one being victorious and now another. Large forces were not employed at any one time or place, but it was a skirmish fire all along the border, burning up brightly first at one spot and then at another. One remarkable statement in the records, to the effect that Ko-gu-ryŭ began the building of a wall straight across the peninsula from Eui-ju to the Japan Sea to keep out the people of the northern tribes, seems almost incredible. If true it is another testimony to the great power of Ko-gu-ryŭ. It is said the work was finished in sixteen years.

In 632, after a reign of fifty years, King Chim-p’yŭng died without male issue but his daughter Tong-man, a woman of strong personality, ascended the throne of Sil-la, being the first of her sex that ever sat on a Korean throne.

Many stories are told of her precocity. Once when she was a mere child her father had received from the Emperor a picture of the mok-tan flower together with some seeds of the same. She immediately remarked that the flowers would have no perfume. When asked why she thought so she replied “Because there is no butterfly on them in the picture.” While not a valid argument, it showed a power of observation very uncommon in a child. This proved to be true, for when the seeds sprouted and grew the blossoms had no fragrance. The Emperor conferred upon her the title of royalty, the same as upon a male sovereign.

The first few years of her reign were peaceful ones for Sil-la, and Păk-je, as usual when relieved of the stress of war, fell back into her profligate ways again. The king built gardens and miniature lakes, bringing water from a point some twenty li away to supply them. Here he spent his time in sport and debauchery while the country ruled itself.

In the fifth year of her reign Queen Tong-man, while walking in her palace grounds, passed a pond of water but suddenly stopped and exclaimed “There is war on our western border.” When asked her reasons for thinking so she pointed to the frogs in the pond and said “See how red their eyes are. It means that there is war on the border.” As if to bear out her statement, swift messengers came the next day announcing that Păk-je was again at work along the western border. So runs the story.

And so the fight went on merrily all along the line, while at the capitals of the three kingdoms things continued much as usual. Each of the countries sent Princes to China to be educated, and the diplomatic relations with China were as intimate as ever; but in 642 Păk-je made the great mistake of her life. After an unusually successful military campaign against Sil-la during which she seized forty of her frontier posts, she conceived the bright idea of cutting off Sil-la’s communication with China. The plan was to block the way of Sil-la envoys on their way to China. Thus she thought that China’s good will would be withdrawn from her rival, Sil-la. It was a brilliant plan but it had after effects which worked ruin for Păk-je. Such a momentous undertaking could not be kept from the ears of the Emperor nor could Sil-la’s envoys be thus debarred from going to the Emperor’s court. When the whole matter was therefore laid before the Chinese court the Emperor immediately condemned Păk-je in his own mind.

About this time a Chinese envoy named Chin Ta-t’ok arrived on the borders of Ko-gu-ryŭ. On his way to the capital he pretended to enjoy all the views along the way and he gave costly presents to the prefects and gained from them accurate information about every part of the route. By this means he spied out the land and carried a fund of important information back to the Emperor. He advised that Ko-gu-ryŭ be invaded both by land and sea, for she would not be hard to conquer.

It was in this year 642 that a Ko-gu-ryŭ official named Hap So-mun assassinated the king and set up the king’s nephew Chang as king. He himself became of course the court favorite. He was a man of powerful body and powerful mind. He was as “sharp as a falcon.” He claimed to have risen from the water by a miraculous birth. He was hated by the people because of his cruelty and fierceness. Having by specious promises so far mollifiedmollified the dislike of the officials as to have gained a position under the government he became worse than before and some of the officials had an understanding with the king that he must be put out of the way. This came to the ears of Hap So-mun and he gave a great feast, during the course of which he fell upon and killed all those who had advised against him. He then sent and killed the king in the palace, cut the body in two and threw it into a ditch. Then, as we have seen, he set up Chang as king. This Hap So-mun is said to have worn five swords on his person all the time. All bowed their heads when he appeared and when he rode in state he passed over the prostrate bodies of men.

When an envoy, soon after this, came from Sil-la he was thrown into prison as a spy and was told that he would be released as soon as Sil-la should restore to Ko-gu-ryŭ the two districts of Ma-hyŭn which had at one time belonged to Ko-gu-ryŭ. This envoy had a friend among the Ko-gu-ryŭ officials and to him he applied for help. That gentleman gave him advice in the form of an allegory. It was as follows.

The daughter of the Sea King being ill, the physicians said that she could not recover unless she should eat the liver of a rabbit. This being a terrestrial animal it was of course almost impossible to obtain, but finally a tortoise volunteered toto secure a rabbit and bring it to the king. Emerging from the sea on the coast of Sil-la the tortoise entered a field and found a rabbit sleeping under a covert. Awakening the animal he began to tell of an island off the shore where there were neither hawks nor hunters—a rabbit’s paradise, and volunteered to take the rabbit across to it upon his back. When well out at sea the tortoise bade the rabbit prepare for death, for his liver was needed by the Sea King. After a moment’s rapid thought the rabbit exclaimed “You might have had it without all this ado, for when the Creator made rabbits he made them with detachable livers so that when they became too warm they could take them out and wash them in cool water and then put them back. When you found me I had just washed mine and laid it on a rock to dry. You can have it if you wish, for I have no special use for it.” The tortoise in great chagrin turned about and paddled him back to the shore. Leaping to the land the rabbit cried “Good day, my friend, my liver is safe inside of me.”

The imprisoned envoy pondered over this conundrum and its application and finally solved it. Sending to the king he said “You cannot get back the two districts by keeping me here. If you will let me go and will provide me with an escort I will induce the Sil-la government to restore the territory to you.”to you.” The king complied, but when the envoy had once gotten across the border he sent back word that the restoration of territory was not in his line of business and he must decline to discuss the question at the court of Sil-la.

In 643 the powerful and much dreaded Hap So-mun sent to China asking the Emperor to send a teacher of the Shinto religion; for he said that the three religions, Buddhism, Taoism and Shintoism were like the three legs of a kettle, all necessary. The Emperor complied and sent a teacher, Suk-da, with eight others and with books to be used in the study of the new cult.

The prowess of this Hap So-mun was well known at the Chinese court and it kept the Emperor from attempting any offensive operations. He said it would not do to drain China of her soldiers at such a critical time, but that the Mal-gal tribes must first be alienated from their fealty to Ko-gu-ryŭ and be induced to attack her northern border. Others advised that Hap So-mun be allowed free rein so that all suspicion of aggression on the part of China should be removed and Ko-gu-ryŭ would become careless of her defenses. This would in time bring a good opportunity to strike the decisive blow. It was in pursuance of this policy that the Shinto teachers were sent and that Hap So-mun’s creature, Chang, was given investiture. At the same time a Sil-la emmissaryemmissary was on his way to the Chinese court asking for aid against Ko-gu-ryŭ. The Emperor could not comply but proposed three plans: first, that China stir up the Mal-gal tribes to harry the northern borders of Ko-gu-ryŭ and so relieve the strain on the south; second, that China give Sil-la a large number of red flags which she should use in battle. The Păk-je or Ko-gu-ryŭ forces, seeing these, would think that Sil-la had Chinese allies and would hasten to make peace; third, that China should send an expedition against Păk-je, which should unite with a Sil-la force and thus crush the Păk-je power once for all and join her territory to that of Sil-la. This would prepare the way for the subjugation of Ko-gu-ryŭ. But to this advice the Emperor added that so long as Sil-la had a woman on the throne she could not expect to undertake any large operations. She ought to put a man on the throne and then, after the war was over, restore the woman if she so wished. The Sil-la envoy pondered these three plans but could come to no decision. So the Emperor called him a fool and sent him away. We see behind each of these schemes a fear of Ko-gu-ryŭ. China was willing to do anything but meet the hardy soldiers of Ko-gu-ryŭ in the field.

We see that the Emperor had virtually decided in favor of Sil-la as against Păk-je and Ko-gu-ryŭ. The long expected event had at last occurred. Tacitly but really China had cast her vote for Sil-la and the future of the peninsula was decided for so long as the Tang dynasty should last. That the decision was a wise one a moment’s consideration will show. Ko-gu-ryŭ never could be depended upon for six months in advance and must be constantly watched; Păk-je, being really a mixture of the northern and southern elements, had neither the power of the one nornor the peaceful disposition of the other but was as unstable as a cloud. Sil-la on the other hand was purely southern, excepting for a strain of Chinese blood brought in by the refugees from the Tsin dynasty. Her temperament was even, her instincts peaceful, her tendencies toward improvement and reform. She was by all means the best ally China could have in the peninsula. And so the die was cast and henceforth the main drift of Chinese sympathy is to be Sil-la-ward.

The year 644 was a fateful one for Korea. The Emperor sent an envoy to Ko-gu-ryŭ and Păk-je commanding them to cease their depredations on Sil-la. Thus was the Chinese policy announced. Păk-je hastened to comply but Hap So-mun of Ko-gu-ryŭ replied that this wasthis was an ancient feud with Sil-la and could not be set aside until Ko-gu-ryŭ recovered 500 li of territory that she had been despoiled of. The Emperor in anger sent another envoy with the same demand, but Hap So-mun threw him into prison and defied China. When he heard however that the Emperor had determined upon an invasion of Ko-gu-ryŭ he changed his mind and sent a present of gold to the Chinese court. But he was too late. The gold was returned and the envoy thrown into prison.

There were many at the Chinese court who could remember the horrors of that retreat from P’yŭng-yang when China left 300,000 dead upon the hills of Ko-gu-ryŭ, and the Emperor was advised to move cautiously. He however felt that unless Ko-go-ryŭ was chastised she might develop an ambition towards imperialism and the throne of China itself might be endangered. He therefore began to collect provisions on the northern border, storing them at Tă-in Fortress. He called into his counsels the old general, Chöng Wŭn-do, who had been an eye-witness of the disasters of the late war with Ko-gu-ryŭ. This man gave healthful advice, saying that the subjugation of Ko-gu-ryŭ would be no easy task; first, because the way was so long; second, because of the difficulty of provisioning the army; third, because of the stubborn resistance of Ko-gu-ryŭ’s soldiers. He gave the enemy their due and did not minimize the difficulties of the situation.

The Emperor listened to and profittedprofitted by this advice, for during the events to be related his soldiers never suffered from over-confidence, but in their advances made sure of every step as they went along.

Active operations began by the sending of an army of 40,000 men in 501 boats to the harbor of Nă-ju where they were joined by land forces to the number of 60,000, besides large contingents from the wild tribes of the north. Large numbers of ladders and other engines of war had been constructed and were ready for use. Before crossing the Liao River the Emperor made proclamation far and wide saying “Hap So-mun has killed our vassal, King of Ko-gu-ryŭ, and we go to inquire into the matter. Let none of the prefects along the way waste their revenues in doing us useless honors. Let Sil-la, Păk-je and Kŭ-ran help us in this righteous war.”

Crossing the Liao without resistance the Chinese forces marched toward the fortress of Kön-an which soon fell into their hands. Some thousands of heads fell here to show the rest of Ko-gu-ryŭKo-gu-ryŭ what they might expect in case of contumacy. Then Ham-mo Fortress fell an easy victim. Not so the renowned fortress of Liao-tung. As the Emperor approached the place he found his way obstructed by a morass 200 li in length. He built a road through it and then when all his army had passed he destroyed the road behind him as Pizarro burnt his ships behind him when he landed on the shores of America to show his army that there was to be no retreat. Approaching the town he laid siege to it and after a hard fight, during which the Chinese soldiers lifted a man on the end of a long piece of timber until he could reach and set fire to the defences that surmounted the wall, an entrance was finally effected and the town taken. In this battle the Chinese were materially aided by armor which Păk-je had sent as a gift to the Chinese Emperor.

The Chinese were destined to find still greater difficulty in storming An-si Fortress which was to Ko-gu-ryŭ what Metz is to Germany. It was in command of the two generals, Ko Yŭn-su and Ko Hye-jin who had called to their aid 100,000 warriors of the Mal-gal tribes. At first the Emperor tried a ruse to draw the garrison out where he could give them battle. The wise heads among the Ko-gu-ryŭ garrison strongly opposed the sortie saying that it were better to await an opportunity to cut off the Chinese from their base of supplies, and so entrap them; but they were outvoted and the greater part of the Ko-gu-ryŭ and allied forces marched out to engage the enemy in the open field. The Emperor ascended an eminence where he could obtain a view of the enemy and he beheld the camp of the Mal-gal allies stretching out forty li, twelve miles. He determined to exercise the utmost caution. One of his generals, Wang Do-jong begged to be allowed to march on P‘yŭng-yang, which he deemed must be nearly bare of defenses, and so bring the war to a speedy close; but the Emperor, like Hannibal when begged by his generals to march straight into Rome, made the mistake of over-caution and so missed his great opportunity. To the Emperor this sounded too much like a similar attempt that had once cost China 300,000 men.

A messenger was sent to the Ko-gu-rŭ camp to say that China did not want to fight but had only come to inquire into the cause of the king’s death. As he intended, this put the Ko-gu-ryŭ forces off their guard and that night he surrounded the fortress and the forces which had come out to engage him. This was done in such a way that but few of the surrounding Chinese army were visible. Seeing these, the Ko-gu-ryŭ forces made a fierce onslaught anticipating an easy victory, instead of which they soon found themselves surrounded by the flower of the Chinese army and their retreat to the fortress cut off. It is said that in this fight 20,000 Ko-gu-ryŭ troops were cut down and three thousand of the Mal-gal allies, besides losing many through flight and capture. These were all released and sent back to Ko-gu-ryŭ excepting 3,500 noblemen whom the Emperor sent to China as hostages. This fight occurred outside the An-si Fortress and the Emperor supposed the gates would now be thrown open; but not so, for there was still a strong garrison within and plenty of provisions; so they barred the gates and still defied the Chinese. Upon hearing of the Chinese victory the neighboring Ko-gu-ryŭ fortresses Ho-whang and Eui capitulated, not knowing that An-si still held out against the victors.

Many of the Emperor’s advisers wanted him to ignore An-si and press on into Ko-gu-ryŭ leaving it in the rear, but this the wary Emperor would not consent to do, for he feared lest his retreat should be cut off. So the weary siege was continued. One day, hearing the lowing of cattle and the cackling of hens within the walls, the Emperor astutely surmised that a feast was being prepared preparatory to a sortie that was about to be made. Extra pickets were thrown out and the army was held in readiness for the attack. That very night the garrison came down the wall by means of ropes; but finding the besiegers ready for them they retired in confusion and suffered a severe defeat. The siege went on. The Chinese spent two months constructing a mound against the wall but the garrison rushed out and captured it. It is said that during this siege the Emperor lost an eye by an arrow wound, but the Chinese histories do not mention it. The cold blasts of late autumn were now beginning to give warning that winter was at hand and the Emperor was obliged to consider the question of withdrawing. He was filled with admiration of the pluck and bravery of the little garrison of An-si and before he broke camp he sent a message to the commander praising his faithfulness to his sovereign and presenting him with a hundred pieces of silk. Then the long march back to China began, and the 70,000 soldiers wended their way westward, foiled a second time by the stubborn hardihood of Ko-gu-ryŭ.