The Imjin War: Japan's Sixteenth-Century Invasion of Korea and Attempt to Conquer China

by Samuel Hawley

  What were the So to do? They would have been far better informed than Hideyoshi of the nature of things in Korea, namely that it was a fiercely loyal tributary state of Ming China and looked down upon Japan. The So consequently would have known that their master’s blunt demand for surrender would not have the desired effect. At this early date, moreover, there may have been some question in their minds whether Hideyoshi actually meant what he said. Was he really prepared to send his armies across the strait if the Koreans failed to heed his warnings? Or was his message just a lot of bluster, a cheap attempt to subjugate the Koreans with empty threats? If that was the case then he would succeed only in alienating them further, and in the process damage the So’s longstanding relationship with the Choson court.

  It was considerations such as these that prompted So Yoshishige to alter Hideyoshi’s first message to the Koreans in 1587. Hideyoshi’s letter demanded that Korea submit to him and that it send a “tribute mission” to Japan as a sign of its obeisance. So softened this into a more palatable request for a “goodwill mission.” He also decided not to deliver the message in person, probably in an attempt to distance his family as much as possible from Hideyoshi’s still inflammatory demands. He sent a family retainer instead, a man by the name of Yutani Yasuhiro.

  Sending Yutani was a mistake. He was a big man of about fifty with graying hair and beard, rough and hardened from years of civil war. He could command armies, lead assaults on enemy castles, and hack a man in two with his sword. But he knew little of diplomacy and next to nothing of how to win over the Koreans.

  The trouble began soon after his arrival on the peninsula. On his way north to Seoul he made a habit of loudly demanding the best room in every inn. To the Koreans that was very bad form. When the men of Indong gathered along the road with spears in hand to demonstrate Korea’s military power—a long-established custom—he laughingly observed, “The staffs of your spears are short indeed!” This was a simple statement of fact; Korean spears were short compared to the five-meter-long pikes favored in Japan.[83] The comment nevertheless had the ring of an insult. At Sangju, as the aging local prefect wined and dined him at considerable expense, Yutani commented on his host’s gray hair, wondering why a man who had never seen battle, but whiled away the hours with music and dancing girls, would ever turn gray.[84]

  The insults and boorish behavior continued in Seoul, confirming all the deep-seated prejudices that the Koreans had about the Japanese: they were ignorant; they were arrogant; they did not know the ways of civilized men. But, like this warrior Yutani, they were also dangerous. They had to be tamed with the greatest of care. Yutani therefore was not run out of Seoul as many a Choson official would have dearly loved to do. He was comfortably housed and well fed, but kept firmly at arm’s length while the Koreans debated how best to proceed.

  At this point the Choson government knew almost nothing of Toyotomi Hideyoshi, the unseen power on whose behalf the uncouth Yutani had been sent. According to Yu Song-nyong, then a high-ranking official in the Board of Rites, the government office responsible for hosting foreign envoys, some were of the opinion that Hideyoshi was a Chinese man who had somehow found his way to Japan, where he lived in obscurity earning a living hauling firewood. Then “one day the king, while on an outing, met him on the roadway, and as he was an unusual man, received him into his company of soldiers. Courageous and expert at fighting, he accumulated meritorious deeds and became a great officer. As a result, he became powerful. At last he drove out Minamoto and took over his position.” It was an interesting tale, but wholly untrue. Others within the Korean government asserted that “Minamoto” had in fact been assassinated by someone else and that Hideyoshi had killed the assassin and seized control of his fallen lord’s domain. After that he went on to unify all sixty-six provinces of Japan into one country. This account was closer to the mark, but only marginally. It was not “Minamoto,” for example—an apparent reference to the Ashikaga shogun who had long since sunk into obscurity—who had been assassinated, but rather Oda Nobunaga who had been usurped. In any case both versions added up to a very limited understanding of Hideyoshi and recent developments in Japan.

  The contents of Hideyoshi’s letter left them with little inclination to find out more. Even after the So’s attempt to soften its message, the Koreans found it arrogant, rude, and completely lacking in diplomatic protocol and appropriate humility. Hideyoshi referred to himself throughout the document by the Chinese character chin, a highly honorific form of “me” reserved solely for the Son of Heaven in Beijing. He boasted in an unseemly fashion of how all of Japan “has come wholly into the grasp of me [chin] alone.” He expressed dissatisfaction that Korea had been so remiss in sending missions to Japan, as if Korea were some sort of wayward tributary state to those islands. And he now called on them to mend their ways and send an envoy to Kyoto.[85]

  It was on the whole such an utterly unacceptable document that the Koreans had difficulty deciding how or even if they should respond. King Sonjo himself, who was clearly still confused as to the actual course of events in Hideyoshi’s rise to power, was of the opinion that they should send the envoy away empty-handed, for he came from a country “where they had killed their own king.”[86] Others agreed, adding that the Japanese were beyond any hope of ever becoming civilized, and there was consequently nothing to be gained by extending a friendly hand to them. Finally, after keeping Yutani waiting for several months, the Koreans sent him back to Hideyoshi with a note explaining that Korea would be unable to dispatch the requested goodwill mission to Japan because of the length of the journey and their uncertainty of the way—an extremely transparent excuse.[87]

  Hideyoshi was furious at the failure of this first mission. He charged Yutani Yasuhiro with being in league with the Koreans and had him and his entire family killed. So Yoshishige was also punished, although less severely. He was deposed as daimyo of Tsushima and replaced by his adopted son, twenty-year-old So Yoshitoshi, who, being also the son-in-law of one of Hideyoshi’s most trusted generals, Konishi Yukinaga, was considered more trustworthy.

  In late 1588 Hideyoshi ordered Tsushima’s newly appointed daimyo to dispatch a second mission to Korea to arrange that kingdom’s submission. So Yoshitoshi personally took the lead this time. Accompanying him was an entourage of twenty-five men, including Yanagawa Shigenobu, a leading retainer in the So household, and Genso Keitetsu, a fifty-two-year-old Buddhist monk whose scholarly presence, it was hoped, would help the mission find common ground with the tetchy Koreans. The mission arrived in Seoul in February of 1589. They conducted themselves with more decorum than their predecessor, the unfortunate Yutani, and gave the Koreans less cause for offense, although So Yoshitoshi himself was negatively perceived as “young and fierce. The other Japanese all feared him. Prostrating themselves, they crawled before him, not daring to gaze upward.”[88]

  So delivered another letter from Hideyoshi to the Koreans:

  When my mother conceived me it was by a beam of sunlight that entered her bosom in a dream. After my birth a fortune-teller said that all the land the sun shone on would be mine when I became a man, and that my fame would spread beyond the four seas. I have never fought without conquering and when I strike I always win. Man cannot outlive his hundred years, so why should I sit chafing on this island? I will make a leap and land in China and lay my laws upon her. I shall go by way of Korea and if your soldiers will join me in this invasion you will have shown your neighborly spirit. I am determined that my name shall pervade the three kingdoms.[89]

  The Koreans found this second letter from Hideyoshi to be no better than his first: it was arrogant, rude, and almost beyond reason. It merely confirmed to King Sonjo that this warlord was too uncivilized to merit the court’s attention and that his haughty epistles should be ignored. But many of Sonjo’s officials were no longer so sure. After long discussion they came to the conclusion that Hideyoshi posed a real threat to the security of the kingdom and that friendly relations shou
ld therefore be established with him, to tame him by drawing him into the Sinocentric fold, and to take the measure of the man and gather first-hand intelligence on the situation in Japan.

  The Koreans accordingly approached So Yoshitoshi with a proposal: they would send a goodwill mission to Japan to congratulate Hideyoshi on his unification of the country, but first Japan had to bring to justice a group of renegade Koreans who had aided Japanese pirates in raids along the nation’s southern coast the previous year, killing a general and carrying off a number of prisoners. These outlaws were now hiding somewhere in western Japan, and the Choson court wanted them repatriated for punishment. Yoshitoshi, who by this time surely knew that the Koreans would never agree to send a tribute mission to Kyoto as Hideyoshi wanted, readily agreed. A goodwill mission would have to do. Yanagawa Shigenobu was sent back to Japan to take care of the matter and soon reappeared with ten of the wanted men bound in ropes, together with many of the Koreans who had been taken prisoner. The renegades were questioned before King Sonjo in Seoul’s Hall of Humane Government, then were decapitated outside the city’s West Gate.

  The Koreans were satisfied. As a sign that cordial relations between the two countries could now begin, So Yoshitoshi was at last granted an audience with King Sonjo, where gifts were exchanged and all the niceties observed. Yoshitoshi received a fine horse, and in turn presented the king with a peacock and some arquebuses. Although the Koreans had long been acquainted with gunpowder and cannon, these were the first lightweight muskets they had ever seen. They found them to resemble dog legs. [90]

  After a prolonged period of waiting on the weather and debating over who would be sent, the Koreans finally dispatched their promised goodwill mission to Japan in April of 1590, the first Korean mission to Kyoto in nearly one hundred fifty years. It was led by Ambassador Hwang Yun-gil, Vice-Ambassador Kim Song-il, and Recording Secretary Ho Song, an unavoidable choice mirroring the factionalism that had split the government in two. Ambassador Hwang, a soft-spoken and conciliatory man, was a member of the then-ascendant Western faction, while the mercurial Kim and secretary Ho were from the Eastern camp. Kim in particular resented Hwang’s presence, and considered him much too timid to deal with the militaristic Japanese. Between them they would find little to agree about.[91]

  The mission was accompanied south from Seoul and across the strait to Kyushu by So Yoshitoshi, Yanagawa Shigenobu, and the monk Genso; there would be no question this time of the Koreans not knowing the way. It was not a happy party on that long and arduous trip. During a stop on Tsushima en route to Kyushu, So Yoshitoshi invited the Koreans to a banquet in a temple, then promptly insulted them by entering the grounds in a sedan chair rather than alighting outside the gate and walking in.[92] Ambassador Hwang, the West man, was prepared to overlook this breech in decorum. Vice-Ambassador Kim, the East man, was not. “Tsushima is our vassal state,” he stormed. “We came here on the imperial command of our majesty. How dare you insult us like this. I refuse to attend this banquet.” Yoshitoshi apologized, blaming the sedan chair bearers for the oversight, and had the men killed and their heads presented before the Koreans. The Japanese treated Kim and his colleagues with more care after that but were not entirely able to avoid the slights and faux pas that Kim above all would continue to find so offensive in the coming months, leaving him with an entirely unfavorable opinion of the Japanese and their ways.[93]

  The Korean embassy arrived in Kyoto in August of 1590 after four months on the road. They found it to be an urban center of considerable size, the political, commercial, and religious hub of the nation, with a population in the vicinity of 150,000.[94] It must have had something of the appearance of a construction site, though, for Hideyoshi was in the process of rebuilding, expanding, and glorifying the capital—and in turn himself. The work then under way would in fact so transform the face of the city over the next several years that, in the words of Hideyoshi biographer Mary Elizabeth Berry, “the Kyoto we know today is Hideyoshi’s town.”[95]

  At its center was Hideyoshi’s recently completed residence, the Jurakudai, a sprawling complex of moats surrounding walls encircling residential compounds and whitewashed castle keeps that had taken a hundred thousand laborers two years to build. It was as much pleasure palace as fortress stronghold, with pine-tree-lined promenades, decorative stone gardens, and a delicate pavilion atop the central keep for tea parties, moon gazing, and poetry composing. Elsewhere in the city ground was being broken, stones laid, and plans drawn up for myriad other projects, all funded by Hideyoshi’s largess. Nanzenji temple was being refurbished. Work was under way or would soon begin on the Tofukuji, the Shokokuji, the Kenninji, the Toji, and the Honganji. Shrines were being constructed. A new bridge was being erected across the Kamo River. A stone and earthen wall was in the works that by the end of the following year would encircle the entire city.

  Just a bit to the east of the city a truly major project was under way: the Hokoji. This structure, impressive in its own right, was intended to house a stupendous Daibutsu, an image of the Buddha forty-eight meters high that Hideyoshi had ordered cast from all the swords and metal weapons then being collected throughout the country in fulfillment of his sword edict of the previous year, a measure designed to demilitarize the nation’s peasantry. It was an act, said Hideyoshi, “by which the farmers will be saved in this life, needless to say, and in the life to come.” The project, however, had more to do with inspiring awe than saving souls, for Hideyoshi was no great Buddhist. His Hokoji would be the biggest building ever constructed in Japan. His Daibutsu would be the biggest cast image of the Buddha ever made, larger even than the Daibutsu in Nara, which had taken twenty-seven years to complete. And he would do it all in just five years.

  The Korean mission was quartered in the Daitokuji, a large Buddhist temple complex in the northern end of the city. And then they waited. The summer heat gave way to monsoon rains and then to the coolness of fall, and still they waited, for Hideyoshi was not in town. He was away to the northeast at Odawara, presiding over the siege that was grinding down Hojo Ujimasa, the embattled daimyo of Honshu’s central Kanto region. The taiko eventually returned to Kyoto in October, with the Kanto his and Hojo dead, but still the Koreans were kept waiting. Hideyoshi apparently wanted to receive them in an audience where he would preside alongside the emperor, presumably to overawe them with his power, but Emperor Go-Yozei rejected his petition to do so. It was not until December that the Korean mission was at last invited to appear before Hideyoshi at his gilded residence, the Jurakudai.

  When foreign ambassadors visited Seoul, it was customary for the Choson king to host a costly banquet where a succession of succulent dishes soon had the tables groaning under the weight of food. Meat, fish, fruit, wine, and delicacies of every description—nothing was spared when the Koreans entertained honored guests.[96] Hideyoshi’s reception of the Korean ambassadors was decidedly different. Ambassador Hwang, Vice-Ambassador Kim, and their entourage arrived at the Jurakudai by sedan chair and were allowed to proceed into the palace without alighting—a suitable sign of respect and a good start to the proceedings. They were then led into a reception hall where they laid eyes on Hideyoshi for the first time. He was seated at the head of the hall, clad in a black robe and gauze hat. He looked “short and common looking,” with the dark skin of a peasant, but “his eyeballs gleamed and a ray of light shone upon people.” Finally, after four months of waiting, the Koreans were able to deliver their letter, addressed from the “King of Korea” to the “King of Japan,” congratulating Hideyoshi on his successful unification of Japan, and expressing a desire “to cultivate friendly relations with your nation.”[97]

  With this diplomatic task out of the way, a banquet would now have been appropriate as per the Korean and Chinese view of protocol. There were no tables of food in evidence, however, nor any other sign that a feast was about to begin. The Koreans and the Japanese in attendance were simply seated in rows before Hideyoshi, and a plate of glutinous rice
cakes passed round. Then came a bowl of rice wine from which everyone took a sip. And that was all.

  As the Koreans sat there in bemused silence, Hideyoshi suddenly rose and left the hall. No one moved. After a time he reappeared, now wearing everyday clothes and carrying a baby, presumably his son Tsurumatsu, his first and only child, born the previous year. He strolled around the hall, cooing to the child as if no one else was there, then stepped over to the musicians and ordered music to be played.

  Next the baby peed on his clothes. This set Hideyoshi to laughing, calling for an attendant to come and take his dripping heir off his hands. With a wet stain running down the front of his robe, he then left the hall again as the Japanese all bowed their heads to the tatami mats, and this time he did not reappear. The audience was over.[98]

  It was probably not Hideyoshi’s intention to be rude to the Koreans. He understood and appreciated display better than anyone: display of power and wealth and generosity. Had he chosen to do so, he could have laid on a feast that would have left Hwang and Kim thoroughly content. His decision not to do so was more likely intended to demonstrate the absolute nature of his power. The emperor might be required to host a banquet on certain occasions or preside over ceremonies when the heavens dictated. But Hideyoshi was not. He hosted banquets when he chose to do so, not when they were required or expected. Today he favored something simple, then a walk with his son and a bit of music. He was Hideyoshi. He was above conventions. It was his place to chose.[99]