Chapter XIII.
King determines to invade Liao-tung.... why unwise.... the emperor’s letter and the answer.... preparations.... Gen. Yi’s argument.... royal threat.... Gen. Yi marches northward.... the troops appealed to.... the Rubicon of Korea.... an omen.... advance toward Song-do.... the capital in Gen. Yi’s hands.... popular song.... Gen. Yi’s demands.... attempted assassination.... king banished.... a new king.... reforms.... the “Red Grave”.... envoy to China.... Koryŭ takes the offensive against the Japanese.... the emperor’s offer.... a real Wang upon the throne.... the banished kings executed.... unsuccessful plot.... Gen. Yi opposes the Buddhists.... capital moved to Han-yang.... people desire Gen. Yi to be made king.... he is reluctant.... his son active.... Chöng Mong-ju assassinated.... all enemies silenced.... the king’s oath.... the king abdicates in favor of Gen. Yi T‘ă-jo.
Koryŭ was now whirling in the outer circles of the maelstrom that was destined to engulf her. So long as the king revelled and hunted only and did not interfere with outside affairs he was endured as an necessary evil but now in the opening of the year 1388 he determined upon an invasion of Liao-tung, a plan so utterly foolhardy as to become the laughing-stock of reasonable men. It was an insane idea. The constant inroads of the Japanese demanded the presence of all the government troops, for the sending of any of them out of the country would be the signal for the Japanese to pour in afresh and with impunity. In the second place the king could not hope to cope with the great Ming power that had just arisen and was now in the first blush of its power. The kingdom of Koryŭ was essentially bound to the Mongols and she pursued her destiny to the bitter end. In the third place the Ming power had now obtained a firm foothold in Liao-tung and an invasion there would look much like a plan to finally attack that empire itself. In the fourth place the finances of the country were utterly disorganised and the unusual taxes that would be required to carry out the plan would take away all popular enthusiasm for it and desertions would decimate the army. But in spite of all these drawbacks the stubborn king held to his point and as a preliminary measure built a wall about Han-yang where he sent all the women and children for safety. By this act he acknowledged the extreme hazard of the venture. It is not unlikely that he was so tired of all other forms of amusement that he decided to plunge into war in order to make sport for himself.
The emperor seems to have been aware of the plan for he now sent an envoy to announce to the Koryŭ court that “All land north of Ch‘ŭl-lyŭng belongs to the Mongols, and I am about to erect a palisade fence between you and them.” When this envoy arrived at Song-do the king feigned illness and would not see him. A letter was sent in reply saying “We own beyond the Ch‘ŭl-lyŭng as far as Sang-sŭng, so we trust it will please you not to erect a barrier there.” He then called in all the troops from the provinces in preparation for the invasion. His ostensible reason was a great hunting expedition in P‘yŭng-an Province for he knew the people would rise in revolt if they knew the real purpose. The Japanese were wasting the south, the people were fainting under new exactions to cover the expense of the repairs at Han-yang and it is said the very planting of crops was dispensed with, so disheartened were the people.
Having made Ch‘oe Yŭng general-in-chief of the expedition, the king accompanied the army north to Pong-ju, now Pong-san. Gen. Ch‘oe never divulged the fact that this was an army of invasion but told all the troops that they must be strong and brave and ready for any work that might be given them to do. Gen. Yi T‘ă-jo was made lieutenant-general in connection with Gen. Ch‘oe. He made a powerful plea against the war and the main points of his argument are preserved to us. His objections were (1) It is bad for a small country to attack a powerful one. (2) It is bad to make a campaign in summer when the heavy rains flood the country, rendering the transporting of troops almost impossible and decimating them with disease. (3) It is bad to drain off all the soldiers from the country when the Japanese are so constant in their ravages. (4) The heat and moisture of summer will spoil the bows and make them break easily. To all these objections the king replied that having come thus far the plan must be carried out. Gen. Yi hazarded his neck by demurring; still asserting that it would mean the overthrow of the kingdom. The king in rage exclaimed “The next man that advises against this war will lose his head.” This was an end of the debate and as the council of war dispersed the officers saw Gen. Yi weeping, and to their questions he answered “It means the destruction of Koryŭ.”
The Yalu was quickly bridged and Gen. Yi in company with one other general started north from P‘yŭng-yang with 38,600 troops, 21,000 of whom were mounted. At the same time the king discarded the Ming calendar, dress and coiffure. The Mongol clothes were again adopted and the hair cut. The Japanese knowing that the troops had gone north, entered the open door thus invitingly left ajar and seized forty districts.
But we must follow the fortunes of the expedition that was to attack the empire of the Mings. When Gen. Yi arrived at the Yalu his plans were not laid as to what he should do. For one thing, he intended to make no invasion of China. So he crossed over to Wi-ha island, in the mouth of the Yalu, and there made his camp. Hundreds of his troops deserted and went back home. Some of these the king seized[seized] and beheaded; but it did not stop the defection. From that island a general, Hong In-ju, made a dash into Liao-tung territory and was highly complimented by the king in consequence. But Gen. Yi remained[remained] impassive. He sent a letter to the king imploring him to listen to reason and recall the army, urging history, the flooded condition of the country and the Japanese reasons for it. But the king was stubborn. Rumor said that Gen. Yi had fled but when another general was sent to ascertain whether this were true or false he was found at his post. The two generals wept together over the hopeless condition of affairs. At last they summoned the soldiers. “If we stay here we will all be swept away by the rising[rising] flood. The king will not listen to reason. What can we do to prevent the destruction of all the people of Koryŭ? Shall we go back to P‘yŭng-yang, depose the general-in-chief, Ch‘oe, who urges on this unholy war against the Mings?” The soldiers shouted out acclamations of glad assent. Nothing could please them better.
As Gen. Yi T‘ă-jo mounted his white steed and with his red bow and white arrows stood motionless upon a mound of earth watching his soldiers recross the Yalu to the Koryŭ side against the mandate of their king and his, we see a new Caesar watching his army cross the Rubicon, an army as passionately devoted to their leader as the Roman legions ever were to Caesar. And Caesar suffers in the comparison, for he went back not to restore the integrity of the state and prevent the waste of human life, but rather to carry out to its tragic end a personal ambition. We have seen how once and again Yi T‘ă-jo had plead with the king and had risked even his life to prevent this monumental folly; and we shall see how he used his power not for personal ends but with loyalty to his king, until circumstances thrust him upon the throne.
The records say that no sooner had Gen. Yi followed his army across the stream than a mighty wave, fed by mountain streams, came rolling down the valley and swept clean over the island he had just left. The people looked upon this as an omen and a sign of heaven’s favor, and they made a song whose refrain runs “The son of wood will become king.” This refers to the Chinese character for Gen. Yi’s name. It is the union of the two characters “wood” and “son.” The whole army then took up its march toward Song-do. A magistrate in the north sent a hasty message to the king saying that the army was in full march back toward the capital. The king was at this time in Song-ch‘ŭn, north of P‘yŭng-yang. He knew many of the generals were opposed to the war and thought that they would obey him better if he were near by, and so had come thus far[far] north.
Hearing this startling news he immediately dispatched Gen. Ch‘oe Yu-gyŭng with whatever force he had, to oppose the march of the rebellious[rebellious] Gen. Yi. The associate of the latter urged him to push forward with all speed and seize the person of the king, but he was no traitor, and he replied “If we hurry forward and encounter our countrymen[countrymen] many will fall. If anyone lays a finger on the king I will have no mercy on him. If a single citizen of Koryŭ is injured in any way I will never forgive the culprit.” So Gen. Yi came southward slowly, hunting along the way in order to give the king time to get back to Song-do in a leisurely manner as becomes a king. At last the king arrived at his capital and the recalcitrant army came following slowly. The people along the way hailed them as the saviors of the nation and gave them all manner of provisions and supplies, so that they lacked for nothing.
When Gen. Yi T‘ă-jo reached the neighborhood of Song-do he sent a letter to the king saying, “As General-in-chief Ch‘oe-yŭng does not care for the welfare of the people he must die. Send him to me for execution.” But Gen. Ch‘oe did not intend to give up without a struggle, however hopeless his case might be; so he took what troops were left and manned the walls of Song-do. It was a desperate move, for all saw what the end must be. Hundreds of soldiers who had deserted now flocked again to the standards of Gen. Yi.
When the attack came off, Gen. Yi stormed the South Gate and Gen. Yu Man-su the West Gate, and soon an entrance was effected. It is said that after entering the city the first attack upon the royal forces was made by Gen. Yu alone and that he was driven back. When this was told Gen. Yi he seemed not to care but sat on his horse and let it crop the grass along the path. After a time he partook of some food and then[then] leisurely arose, drew up his forces and in full view of them all took a shot at a small pine that stood a hundred paces away. The arrow cut it sheer off and the soldiers hailed it as a sign of victory, for was not the pine the symbol of Koryŭ? So they marched on the palace. The old men and boys mounted the city walls and cheered the attacking forces. Gen. Yi did not lead the attack in person and his lieutenant was beaten back by the royal forces under Gen. Ch‘oe. Gen. Yi thereupon took in his hand a yellow flag, crossed the Sön-juk bridge and ascended South Mountain from which point he obtained a full view of the interior of the palace. He saw that Gen. Ch‘oe and the king, with a band of soldiers, had taken refuge in the palace garden. Descending the mountain he led his troops straight through every obstacle, entered the palace and surrounded the royal party. Gen. Ch‘oe was ordered to come out and surrender but as there was no response the garden gate was burst open and the king was discovered holding the hand of Gen. Ch‘oe. As there was no longer hope of rescue the king, weeping, handed over the loyal general to the soldiers of Gen. Yi. He stepped forward and said “I had no intention of proceeding to these extremes, but to fight the Ming power is out of the question. It is not only useless but suicidal to attempt such a thing. I have come back to the capital in this manner because there was no other way open to me, because it was a traitorous act to attack our suzerain, and because the people of Koryŭ were suffering in consequence of the withdrawal of protection.” Gen. Ch‘oe was then banished to Ko-yang and Gen. Yi, as he sent him away, wept and said “Go in peace.”
The records say that long before this the evil-minded Yi In-im had foretold to Gen. Ch‘oe that one day Gen. Yi T‘ă-jo would become king, but at the time Gen. Ch‘oe laughed at it. Now he was forced to grant that the prophecy had been a true one. A popular song was composed at this time, whose refrain states that
“Outside the wall of P‘yŭng-yang there is a red light,
Outside the wall of An-ju a snake.
Between them comes and goes a soldier, Yi.
May he help us.”
When Gen. Ch‘oe had thus been disposed of, Gen. Yi turned to the king and said “It was impossible to carry out the plan of conquest. The only thing left was to come back, banish the man who gave such bad advice and make a new start. We must now be firm in our allegience to the Ming emperor, and we must change back to the Ming costume.”
The emperor, hearing of the threatened invasion, had sent a powerful army into Liao-tung, but now that the invaders had retired he recalled the troops.
We can easily imagine how the king, who had never been balked of his will, hated Gen. Yi. The moment an opportunity occurred he called about him eighty of his most trusted eunuchs, armed them with swords and sent them to kill the obnoxious dictator. But they found him so well guarded that the attempt proved abortive.
It will be remembered that this king was the son of Sin-don and was therefore not of the royal stock. So now the courtier Yun So-jŭng told Gen. Yi that they ought to find some blood relative of the Wang family, the genuine royal stock, and put him on the throne. To this the dictator assented. As a first move all arms were removed from the palace. The king was left helpless. He was ordered to send away one of his concubines who had formerly been a monk’s slave but he replied “If she goes I go.” The generals went in a body to the palace and advised the king to leave the capital and retire into private life in Kang-wha. This was a polite way of saying that he was banished. He plead[plead] to be allowed to wait till the next day as it was now well along toward night. And so this evil king took his concubines, which he had always cherished more than the kingdom, and passed off the stage of history[history]. He it was who most of all, excepting only his father, helped to bring about the fall of the dynasty.
Gen. Yi now, in 1388, was determined to put upon the throne a lineal descendant of the Wang family, but Cho Min-su with whom he had before conferred about the matter desired to put Chang, the adopted son of the banished king, on the throne. Gen. Yi demurred, but when he learned that the celebrated scholar Yi Săk had favored this plan he acquiesced. The young king wanted to give Gen. Yi high official position but he was not anxious to receive it and it was only by strong pressure that he was induced to take it. So the records say, but we must remember in all this account that hero worship and desire to show the deeds of the founder of the new dynasty in the best light have probably colored many of the facts which occurred at this time.
As this king was never acknowledged by the emperor nor invested with the royal insignia, his name is dropped from the list of the kings of Koryŭ. Neither he nor his foster-father were given the regular posthumous title, but were known, the father as Sin-u and the son as Sin Chang.
An envoy was dispatched to Nanking telling of the banishment of the king and the appointment of his successor. Cho Min-su who had been instrumental in putting this new king on the throne was not so modest as the records try to make us believe Gen. Yi was. He now held almost unlimited power. It spoiled him as it has spoiled many another good man, and he gave way to luxury and ere long had to be banished, a victim of his own excesses.
Reform now became the order of the day. First they changed the unjust and shameful manner of appointing officials that had prevailed under the banished king. The laws respecting the division of fields was changed, making the people more safe in the possession of their property. The defenses of the south were also looked to, for Gen. Chöng Chi went south with a powerful force and scored a signal victory over the corsairs at Nam-wŭn. Gen. Yi T‘ă-jo was now general-in-chief of all the royal forces. His first act was to have the banished king sent further away, to the town of Yö-heung; and at the same time the banished Gen. Ch‘oe Yŭng was executed. The old man died without fear, at the age of seventy. He was not a man who had given himself over to luxury and he had many good qualities, but he was unlettered and stubborn and his crime in desiring to attack China brought him to his death. The records say that when he died he said “If I am a true man no grass will grow on my grave,” and the Koreans say that his grave in Ko-yang is bare to this day and is called in consequence “The Red Grave.”
The emperor’s suspicions had been again roused by the new change of face on the part of Koryŭ. The celebrated scholar Yi Săk stepped forward and offered to go to the emperor’s court and smooth things over. Gen. Yi praised him highly for this act of condescension and he was sent as envoy. He took with him Gen. Yi’s fifth son who is known posthumously by his title T‘ă-jong. He was destined to become the third king of the new dynasty. He was taken to China by Yi Săk because the latter feared that Gen. Yi might usurp the throne while he was gone and the son would then be a sort of hostage for good behavior on the part of the father. The two great men of Koryŭ, when it fell, were Chöng Mong-ju and this Yi Săk. They were both men of education and experience and were both warm partizans of the Koryŭ dynasty. They were loyal to her even through all the disgusting scenes herein described, but their great mistake was their adherence to the Mongol power when it had plainly retired from active participation in the affairs of Asia. Yi Săk now sought the court of China not so much with a view to helping Koryŭ as to find means to get Gen. Yi into trouble. But to his chagrin the emperor never gave him an opportunity to say what he desired to say about the great dictator.
The questions the emperor asked gave no opportunity to mention the topic nearest his heart. His chagrin was so great that when he got back to Koryŭ he spoke slightingly of the emperor, to the great displeasure of the court. The king himself desired to go to Nanking and do obeisance to the emperor but was forbidden by the latter.
The year 1389 beheld some interesting and important events. In the first place Gen. Yi decided to take the offensive against the Japanese; so a hundred boats were fitted out. The expedition arrived first at Tsushima where three hundred of the enemy’s boats were burned as well as many houses; and more than a hundred prisoners were brought away. Secondly, the emperor, being asked to let the king go to Nanking and do obeisance, replied, “This having a pretender on the throne of Koryŭ is all wrong. If you will put a real descendant of the royal family on the throne you need not send another envoy to my court for twenty years if you do not wish.” Gen Yi, to show his good will, sent a messenger to the banished king and gave him a feast on his birthday. The king of the Loo Choo Islands sent an envoy to Song-do with gifts, declaring his allegiance to Koryŭ. At the same time he sent back some Koryŭ captives who had fallen into his hands. Gen. Yi came to the conclusion that if the dynasty was to continue, a lineal descendant of the royal family must be put at the head of affairs. At this time Gen. Yi was of course the actuating spirit in the government and at his desire the young king, who had been on the throne but a year and who had not been formally recognised by the emperor, was sent away to Kang-wha and the seventh descendant of the seventeenth king of the line was elevated to the seat of royalty. His name was Yo and his posthumous title Kong-yang. He was forty-five years old. This move on the part of Gen. Yi was doubtless on account of the pronounced views of the emperor. A busybody named Kang Si told the newly appointed king that Gen. Yi did this not because he cared for the Wang dynasty but because he feared the Mings. When Gen. Yi learned of this the man’s banishment was demanded but not insisted upon. One of the first acts of the new sovereign was to banish Yi Săk and Cho Min-su who had insisted upon putting the parvenu Chang upon the throne. An envoy was also dispatched to China announcing that at last a genuine Wang was now on the throne of Koryŭ.
The officials urged that the two banished kings be killed but when the matter was referred to Gen. Yi he advised a more lenient policy, saying, “They have been banished and they can do no more harm. There is no sense in shedding useless blood.” But the king replied, “They killed many good men and they deserve to die;” so executioners were sent and the two men were executed at their places of banishment. It is said that the wife of the elder of the two took the dead body of her lord in her arms and said, as she wept, “This is all my father’s fault, for it was he who advised the invasion of China.” The records say that for ten days she ate nothing and slept with the corpse in her arms. She also begged rice and with it sacrificed before the dead body of the king.
In 1390 a dangerous conspiracy was gotten up with the view to assassinating Gen. Yi, but it was discovered in time and many men were killed in consequence and many more were put to the torture. Yi Săk and Cho Min-su were in some way implicated in this attempt though they were in banishment. It was advised to put them to death but after torture they were sent back to prison. The emperor in some way had the impression that Gen. Yi was persecuting these two men because they had prevented his invasion of China. Cho was executed but when the executioner approached the cell of Yi Săk, so the records say, a terrific clap of thunder was heard and a flood of water swept away part of the town in which he was imprisoned. For this reason the king dared not kill him but granted him freedom instead.
Under the supervision of Gen. Yi a war-office was established and a system of conscription which secured a rotation of military duty. The king, true to the instincts of his family, was a strong adherent of Buddhism and now proceeded to take a monk as his teacher. The whole official class decided that this must not be, and the monk was forthwith expelled from the palace. In spite of the suffering it entailed upon the people the king decided to move the capital again to Han-yang and it was done, but no sooner was the court transferred to that place than the king, with characteristic Wang fickleness, went back to Song-do. The law was promulgated that women must not go to visit Buddhist monasteries. This was without doubt because the looseness of the morals of the inmates rendered it unsafe for respectable women to go to them.
The people throughout the land looked to Gen. Yi as their protector and it was the almost universal wish that he should become king. His friends tried to bring this about but they were always thwarted by the aged Chöng Mong-ju, the only great man who now clung to the expiring dynasty. He was a man of perfect integrity and was held in much esteem by Gen. Yi himself though they differed in politics. Chong Mong-ju really[really] believed it necessary for the preservation of the state that Gen. Yi be put out of the way and he was always seeking means for accomplishing this end.
When the crown prince came back from Nanking, whither he had gone as envoy, Gen. Yi went out to meet him. He went as far as Whang-ju where he suffered a severe fall from his horse which for a time quite disabled him. This was Chöng Mong-ju’s opportunity. He hastened to have many of Gen. Yi’s friends put out of the way. He had them accused to the king and six of the strongest partisans of the general were banished. Gen. Yi was at Hă-ju at the time and his son T‘ă-jong hastened to him and imparted the startling news. The old man did not seem to care very much, but the son whose energy and spirit were equal to anything and who foresaw that prompt action at this juncture meant life or death to all the family, had the aged general carried on the backs of men back to Song-do. When he arrived, attempts were being made to have the six banished men put to death, but the coming of the great dictator put a stop to this. T‘ă-jong urged that something must be done immediately to save the family name, but the father did not wish to proceed to extremities. The brunt of the whole business fell upon T‘ă-jong and he saw that if his father was to become king someone must push him on to the throne. The first step must be the removal of Chöng mong-ju. Nothing could be done until that was accomplished.
Gen. Yi’s nephew turned traitor to him and informed Chöng Mong-ju that there was danger. About this time Gen. Yi gave a dinner to the officials and Chöng Mong-ju was invited. The latter decided to go and, by watching the face of his host, determine whether the report was true. When T‘ă-jong saw Chöng Mong-ju come to the banquet he knew the time had come to make the master move. Five strong men were placed in hiding beside Sön-juk bridge which Chöng had to cross in going home. There they fell upon him and murdered him with stones, upon the bridge. Today that bridge is one of the sacred relics of the kingdom and is enclosed by a railing. On the central stone is seen a large brown blotch which turns to a dull red when it rains. This is believed to be the blood of the faithful Chöng Mong-ju which still remains a mute reproach to his murderers.
This dastardly deed having been committed, T‘ă-jong conferred with his uncle, Wha, and they sent Gen. Yi’s eldest living son, who is known by his posthumous title of Chöng-jong, to the king, to demand the recall of the banished friends of the general. The king was in no condition to refuse and the men came back.
Gen. Yi mourned sincerely for the death of Chöng Mong-ju for he held him to be a loyal and faithful man, but his son saw to it that the friends of the murdered man were promptly banished. Even the two sons of the king who had sided with the enemies of Gen. Yi were banished. Gen. Yi was asked to put some of the friends of Chöng Mong-ju to death but he sternly refused and would not even have them beaten. Yi Săk was again banished to a more distant point, the property of Chöng Mong-ju was confiscated and so at last all opposition was effectually silenced.
The energetic T‘ă-jong next proceeded to have the king make an agreement or treaty of lasting friendship with his father. The officials opposed it on the ground that it was not in keeping with the royal office to swear an oath to a subject, but the king who had doubtless been well schooled by the young intriguer agreed to it. Gen. Yi was very loath to go and receive this honor at the king’s hand and it was at last decided that the king should not attend the function in person but should do it by deputy. The oath was as follows;—
“If it had not been for you I never could have become king. Your goodness and faithfulness are never to be forgotten. Heaven and earth witness to it from generation to generation. Let us abjure all harm to each other. If I ever forget this promise let this oath witness to my perfidy.”
But soon the king began to see the ludicrousness of his position. His sons had been banished, himself without a particle of power and the voice of the people clamoring to have Gen. Yi made king. The pressure was too great, and one day the unhappy king handed over the seals of office to the great dictator Gen. Yi T‘ă-jo and the Wang dynasty was at an end. The king retired to private life, first to Wŭn-ju, then to Kan-Sŭng and finally to San-ch‘ŭk where he died three years after abdicating. The dynasty had lasted four hundred and seventy-five years in all.
END OF PART II.
PART III.
MODERN KOREA.
1392-1897.