The Corean king hastened to send congratulations to the emperor, Shun Chi, which ingratiated him still more in favor at Peking. In 1650 a captive Corean maid, taken prisoner in their first invasion, became sixth lady in rank in the imperial household. Through her influence her father, the ambassador, obtained a considerable diminution of the annual tribute, fixed upon in the terms of capitulation in 1637. In 1643, one-third of this tribute had been remitted, so that, by this last reduction, in 1650, the tax upon Corean loyalty was indeed very slight. Indeed it has long been considered by the Peking government that the Coreans get about as much as they give, and the embassy is one of ceremony rather than of tribute-bringing. Their offering is rather a percentage paid for license to trade, than a symbol of vassalage. Nevertheless, the Coreans of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries found out, to their cost, that any lack of due deference was an expensive item of freedom. Every jot and tittle, or tithe of the mint or anise of etiquette, was exacted by the proud Manchius. In 1695, the king of Chō-sen was fined ten thousand ounces of silver for the omission of some punctilio of vassalage. At the investiture of each sovereign in Seoul, two grandees were sent from Peking to confer the patent of royalty. The little bill for this costly favor was about ten thousand taels, or dollars, in silver. The Coreans also erected, near one of the gates of Seoul, a temple, which still stands, in honor of the Manchius general commanding the invasion, and to whom, to this day, they pay semi-divine honors. Yet to encourage patriotism it was permitted, by royal decree, to the descendants of the minister who refused, at the Yalu River, to allow the Manchius to cross, and who thereby lost his life, to erect to his memory a monumental gate, a mark of high honor only rarely granted. The Jesuits at Peking succeeded in ingratiating themselves with the conquerors, and Shun-chi, the emperor, was a pupil of Adam Schall, a German Jesuit, who became President of the Board of Mathematicians. Nevertheless, in the troubles preceding the peace, many upright men lost their lives, and hundreds of scholars who hated the Tâtar conquerors of their beloved China—as the Christians of Constantinople hated the Turks—fled to Corea and Japan, conferring great literary influence and benefit. In both countries their presence greatly stimulated the critical study of Chinese literature. With the Mito and Yedo scholars in Japan, they assisted to promote the revival of learning, so long neglected during the civil wars. At Nagasaki, a Chinese colony of merchants, and trade between the two countries, were established, after the last hope of restoring the Mings had been extinguished in Kokusenya (Coxinga), who also drove the Dutch from Formosa. This exodus of scholars was somewhat like the dispersion of the Greek scholars through Europe after the fall of the Byzantine empire.