It was in 1494 that Korea had the misfortune to come under the baneful rule of Prince Yŭn-san. As we have seen, he was the son of the discarded Queen. He inherited her evil disposition and he had sworn to her that he would avenge the stigma that had been cast upon her name. He was twenty years old when the load of empire was placed upon his unworthy shoulders.
No sooner had his accession been ratified by the Emperor than the Prime Minister resigned his position and hastened away to his country home. When asked his reason for such precipitation he replied, “Look at the pupil of his eye; with such a King it is difficult to keep the head on the shoulders. So I have come to the country.” Many tales are told illustrative of his character. Some time before the last King’s death, while he was walking in the palace grounds with his son, a tame deer had come and rubbed its nose on his arm. The youth in wanton cruelty had brutally kicked the animal and was sharply reprimanded for it by his father. Now that he had become King he sent for the harmless beast and drove a spear through it with his own hand. Beholding this vindictive act, and rightly gauging the evil mind that lay behind it, a high official, Pak Yŏng, immediately left the court and retired to the country. The next act of this King was to behead his old tutor, Cho Chi-sŭ, whom he had learned to hate when a boy, because the faithful instructor had tried to curb his wild excesses.
The year 1496 began with a demand for more revenue from Chŭl-la Province, and a consequent remeasurement of the land under cultivation. It is said that his mother, dying, had left a napkin, dyed with her blood, and had said, “When my son becomes King, give this to him and tell him not to forget his vow to avenge my death.” In pursuance of this injunction the young King now gathered together all the men in any way connected with the banishment and death of his mother, all those who recorded the facts, all the messengers who carried the hateful commands. In all there were several hundred people. These he decapitated and dismembered. He also dug up the bodies of those who had been implicated but had died in the interval, broke their bones in pieces and flung them into the river or ground them to powder and scattered them to the winds. The King wanted to have his mother’s picture hung in the ancestral temple and when he proposed it all the officials assented to it but three, who said. “She was a criminal and died a felon’s death; her picture cannot hang in the ancestral hall.” The King in a rage ordered their instant execution. Their families like wise perished and their houses were razed to the ground.
We have seen that Kim Chong-jik, the Prime Minister, had fled to the country. His enemies now accused him to the King asserting that he had said that, as King Se-jo had killed King Tan-jong, how could the son of the former become King. This story was believed and Kim and many of his friends were seized and beheaded. This was the signal for an exodus of the better class of the people from the city. The schools were all closed and a deadly silence reigned for the most part. No one knew who was to be taken next. As the years passed the reign of terror did not abate. Debauchery, oppression and theft were the daily practices of the court and the people were ground to the very lowest point. So much so, in fact, that in 1504 the people printed placards in the native character declaring the baseness of the King, and posted them throughout the city. “These must be the friends of the people whom I have banished” said the King. So he brought them back from exile and beheaded, poisoned or beat them all to death. The people of the eight provinces besought the King to do away with the native script which had brought such disaster.
Two concubines of the deceased King were still living and when they were accused to the King of having brought about his mother’s death, he sent for them and killed them on the spot. For this he was blamed by the widow of the dead King; so the wretch went into her apartments, ran at her and butted her with his head, knocking her to the ground. She said they might kill her if they wished; she did not care. Having stolen the beautiful wife of Whang Yun-hŭn the King could not induce her to smile upon him. So he said, “It is because her husband is still living.” He therefore sent and had the man killed.
The King placed dancing girls in all the 369 prefectures of the country and reserved three hundred of the fairest for the palace. For these he built sumptuous pavilions and a hospital for their treatment when ill. A special office was erected for the care of the dogs, falcons, nets and other instruments of the chase. The royal stables were in Chong-dong where the United States Legation now stands. Agents were sent into all the provinces to hunt for fair women and swift horses. Others were sent to wring from the people special taxes. The King thought the officials were blaming him behind his back, so he gave each of them a wooden tag on which was written, “The mouth is the avenue to misery. The tongue is a sword which may pierce the body. Watch the mouth and guard well the tongue; so shalt thou dwell in safety.” He changed the Confucian temple into a play-house, drove out all the students from the dormitories and put diviners and sorceresses in their places. When his grandmother died he did not assume mourning, but as two of the officials dared to do so he killed them. He wiped out the three districts of Ko-yang, P‘a-ju and Yang-ju to make a hunting ground and forbade anyone to settle there. Those who disobeyed were killed. This hunting park was then stocked with all manner of wild beasts. He stole the people’s boats to use in sport on the palace ponds and restricted the people to the use of a single ferry-boat on the river. This lessened the traffic to such an extent that the people of Seoul suffered severely and many inn-keepers were ruined. An aged eunuch remonstrated, but the King caught up a bow and shot him through. He taxed the people of the south a bolt of cotton a head, and they paid it only by taking the cotton out of their clothes and weaving it. He invited the wives of the courtiers to a feast and had each of them wear upon the breast the name of her husband. Of these he dishonored whom he would and gave the husbands official position. His uncle’s wife was enticed into his net, in consequence of which she committed suicide.
Such were a few of the acts of this depraved monarch. We need not multiply details of his execrable career. It was one long carnival of murder, lust and oppression. The people were simply the instrument by which the spendthrift King could fill his coffers.
It was in the twelfth year of his reign, 1506, that the people were brought to the limit of their patience. Three men. Song Heui-an, Pak Wŭn-jong and Yu Sun-jong, conferred together and agreed that unless there was a change the destruction of the kingdom was inevitable. They determined to drive the corrupt King from the throne and put in his place Prince Chin-sŭng, the second son of King Song-jong. One dark night they met at the Hun-yŭn-wŭn, near the East Gate, with a number of others who had been let into the dangerous secret. Not a light was to be seen, and they prepared to act. With a small band of picked soldiers whom they knew to be faithful they formed a line in front of the palace. The two Prime Ministers came out and joined them and soon a crowd of people gathered. Powerful men with iron bars soon forced an entrance and six of the King’s favorites were seized and beheaded. As a next move the prisons were all opened and crowds of innocent people were liberated. They thirsted for revenge and, finding weapons as best they could, joined the revolutionists. It soon appeared that there was to be no resistance for even the King’s friends were aghast at his enormities. The revolutionists proceeded to the Kyöng-bok Palace where the King’s step-mother lived, the one whom he had treated so brutally, and said to her, “The King is a wild debauchee. The people are scattered. The ancestral temple has been desecrated. The people desire to make your son King.” She modestly replied, “How can my son become King? The King’s son is old enough to assume the crown.” At this there was a general cry of dissent and all demanded that she comply and let her son become King. At last she consented and the youth was brought out. The assembled multitude bowed before him and swore fealty to him. They then crowned him and brought him to the palace. The deposed King was banished with his son to Kyo-dong Island. The honorary posthumous title was never conferred upon him but he is known as Yŭn-san-ju, or “Lord of Yŭn-san.”
Throughout the country there was universal holiday. The first proclamation of this new King who is known by his posthumous title Chung-jong Kong-eui Tă-wang, gave the keynote of his reign. “The most important thing in any country is the common people. If the people prosper the country prospers, if they suffer the country suffers. The late King was cruel and lawless, and so by the people’s will I have become King. I have ordered the discontinuance of the evil customs that have prevailed and I shall do all in my power for the people. Let everyone rejoice.”
But a sad event marred the happiness of the new King. His queen’s father had been on intimate terms with the deposed King and had been killed upon the day of his banishment. The officials therefore insisted that the Queen be put away and that another be selected. She was innocent of any crime, and the King said, “She is the wife of my youth and I cannot[cannot] put her away.” But they insisted until finally he was forced to comply and he tearfully parted from her.