Chapter V
THE BROKEN AXLE OF HISTORY
Providence was generous enough to provide Koreans with yet another opportunity to assert themselves. While Koryeo endured oppression and suffering, the Yeuan dynasty of China gradually went into decline and the situation once again became unsettled in Manchuria. Koryeo responded by cautiously voicing opposition to Yeuan and favoring a northern strategy. From his experience as a hostage, King Kongmin was well aware of Yeuan's weakened position; he ordered the discontinuance of Yeuan style dress and customs, jolting the populace awake. He sent Yu In-u to retrieve several villages west of the Yalu. It was a time when China proper was beset by civil war, Liaotung infested with "red-turbaned brigands," Chientao overrun with Maphapch'ul, Samseonsamgae and their like, and the eastern and western coasts of the Korean peninsula under frequent raids of Japanese marauders. The troubled times awaited the emergence of one daring enough to try for a restoration of order. This situation might have introduced a fresh chapter in Korean history, had King Kongmin's restoration endeavors been followed through after the initial successes.Unfortunately, the king was misled in his later years by a scheming monk named Sin Ton. As a result he befriended a number of eunuchs only to meet with a violent death, with affairs of state thrown into confusion. In the meantime, Chu Yuan-chang of China, rising from obscurity, established the Ming dynasty and extended its influence into Manchuria as well. Koryeo lost another opportunity; vacillating like a mouse looking out of its hole and seeking advantage by a diplomacy of servility was all that Koryeo managed to do throughout this stormy period. It was a balancing act, playing off the Ming against the Yeuan. The same agile, but spineless, acrobatics made Paekche what it was, Silla what it was, and woe betide, Koryou what it was. Yi Korea, the coming dynasty, was to go the same accursed way. What would Korea do next, one wonders.
From among the pygmies in the court one giant spoke up. General Ch'oe Yeong called for a northern expedition. He had firsthand knowledge of Yeuan's strength, gained while taking part in quelling civil strife at Yeuan's request, and he had a clear idea of what was ahead. To him, the time was ripe for action, but no one in the court had the nerve to go along with him. The crisis worsened as Ming moved farther in Manchuria and now had the gall to place a garrison at Kangye and as manv as seventv fortresses between Liaotung and Ch`ollyong. Koryeo could not possibly take this lying down, and indeed in the fourteenth year of his reign, King U, on General Ch'oe Yoeng's urgings, sent an expeditionary force north.
It was the last chance for Koryeo; if she would fail, she would be doomed. The battle was to decide whether Korea, which had repeatedly been humiliated ever since the overthrow of Koguryeo would vindicate her honor. Of this the contemporaries were not aware; later history amply demonstrated it. Didn't they in Koryeo hear it in the wintry winds borne across the Yalu? Didn't the wind cry for home in the balmy south under its billowing summer rainheads in the sky? History was now rising to a third high point.
There is no knowing Heaven's will. When Heaven set up Ch'oe Yoeng as a pillar to support the tottering Koryeo, why did it place Yi Seong-gye in opposition? Both men were equal to the task and comparable in capacity. Yi Seong-gye's verse, "With my three-foot sword I will secure the country" was matched by Ch'oe Yoeng's "A whip will be enough to set the world aright." Their characters were opposed to each other-enterprise as against conservatism, independence as against servility to China, idealism as against realism, justice as against profit.
Is there really no knowing Heavens will? On the contrary, Providence is as plain as day. God causes the wind to blow when the flowers are about to bloom. At this critical moment, Providence tested the nation by embodying two conflicting thoughts and views in two different personalities. When Ch'oe Yeong advocated a northern expedition, Yi Seong-gye opposed the idea. If Ch'oe Yeong insisted on spirit, Yi Seong-gye countered with stratagem. When Ch'oe reprimanded in the interest of justice, Yi would humor with promises of profit. When Ch'oe stood on his own right, Yi would marshal organized strength. Like two crooked pillars of a leaning house, the two forces in the court were at cross-purposes.
At the time, General Ch'oe enjoyed the full trust of the king and wielded virtually dictatorial powers at the court. In April of the fourteenth year of King Us reign, the general launched, over the opposition of the Yi Seong-gye faction, a northern campaign with an army of thirty-eight thou sand. The expedition had the fatal weakness of having to be headed by Yi Seong=gye as one of the two co-commanders. General Ch'oe seemed to have full control but only in form. In actuality, he had played into the hands of Yi Seong-gye, who saw in the military action ' a fine opportunity to foil Ch'oe's intent when a consensus was yet to be achieved, for Yi had a considerable following in the ranks, and the populace was not fully in formed.
Ch'oe was a man of integrity but lacked shrewdness; he was impatient if resolute. Yi Seong-gye, full of schemes and wiles, had in fact prodded General Ch'oe into action and usurped the throne in the end by inciting the troops to mutiny. Alas for Korea. By the time the advance party of the expeditionary force reached the Yalu, rumors, spread no doubt by Yi Seong-gye himself, were flying to the effect that a Buddhist monk saw in a dream signs pointing to Yi's destiny to be king and that a stone with an inscription foretelling the future had been unearthed. The army was demoralized and confused, and so was the populace, and Yi Seong-gye raised the banner of rebellion. King U and Ch'oe Yeong had to return to Songdo; the army destined for Liaotung and Manchuria turned around to march on the capital for the heads of the king and his staunch minister.
On the twenty-third day of the fifth moon of the year 1388, an historic event took place. Turning his back on the Yalu, Yi Seong-gye declared that "should we dare encroach on the territory of the Great Country, we would be offending against the Son of Heaven and retribution would be swift ... " Never had the populace heard this in so many words. This Yi Seonggye dared. This day Yi defeated Ch'oe. On this fateful day realism defeated idealism, a policy of servility was reaffirmed, Korea was relegated to the sad lot of a small country. This was the day when the course of this country's history was finally set for the sea of suffering and Korea has not yet completed the crossing of this sea. Ch'oe Yeong's expedition was actually not well prepared to ensure victory, and Yi Seong-gye's opposition was not altogether out of touch with prevailing conditions. For that reason Yi succeeded in his scheme.
All opportunities offered Koryeo during its five centuries were definitively rendered futile in this one day. Any lingering idea of restoring lost territory was gone forever from Korean minds. Promise of government office and tiny plots of land lured the populace. When they hailed the man, did they realize the significance of the day or who the man was who made them promises? Poor people, they have always been taken in, though innocent. If the day Kogury6 went down was one of national bankruptcy, the day we are talking about was one in which all resolution to restore the family fortune was abandoned, one in which home was forgotten. Koryeo totally failed God's test.
Some might say that Ch'oe Yeong's plan was impractical whereas what Yi Seong-gye had in mind was more appropriate to the occasion. True enough. Korea was exhausted in the extreme, between civil disturbance and foreign invasions. Precisely because of this, we say it was God's test, or testing by history. History always says: "He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it! Only the foolish ones who act according to the commandment shall find life. Is life not living through death? This is agape, or benevolence (jen) by which is meant 'Achieve benevolence by laying down your life" Only the venturesome, the ones daring to strike out, will enter into the realm of life. This test Korea failed because Korea relied only on her own wisdom, not on God's truth, which is, charity, benevolence.
What Yi Seong-gye pointed at when he pronounced China to be the great country was nothing more than reflections of reeds on the bank of the Yalu; he called them a tiger and that scared the populace off. According to the official historians, the founder of the Yi dynasty "retired himself and wept" over the misery into which the populace was plunged. That cannot be; it does not ring true. It must have been a fabrication by those unconscionable fellows whose business it was to please. If in fact Yi Seonggye had felt sorry for the people he would certainly have broken down and wept right then and there, or he might well have drawn his sword in protest. But why retire and weep? If he were too frightened to do either, that means he was more interested in saving his own skin than the people. It was mere playacting. In the unlikely event that he did weep as recorded, all he did was fool the people. He promised them happiness but he murdered Ch'oe Yeong and set up a dynasty.
History being as it is, we have to revise or reinterpret it by stripping it of all outworn notions. In this light we have to took at these would-be revolutionaries and self-styled leaders. What kind of happiness was it that they promised? Was it not one of enslavement, worse than death itself? For a mess of pottage the Koreans bartered away their legacy of Manchuria. But what was the mess of pottage but the false peace of enslavement? Did the Koreans get what their leaders promised? No. Perhaps it was not a deliberate deception; perhaps they were willing, but history was not. You sell your freedom and you lose all. That is the law of history.
Thinking people might regret that Ch'oe Yeong and Yi Seong-gye failed to work together. Together, the two might have seized the last opportunity allowed Koryeo and forestalled the misfortune that drove the Koreans south of the two rivers. Once, when Yi Seong-gye returned after repelling Japanese raiders in Unbong, Ch'oe Yeong went out to meet him. Ch'oe held Yi by the hand and said, in tears, "This is the chance to make the Three Han alive again. And you are the only one the nation can count on.' At this time, people on the coast were under the constant threat of Japanese marauders but the group that invaded Unbong was so unusually vicious that no one but Yi Seong-gye dared to meet them. Yi took on the job, lost two of his horses and was hit by arrows in the leg, yet refused to give in and finished off the ringleader. That foreign brigands were allowed to penetrate as deep inland as Unbong, near Chiisan, and were not to be easily dislodged, serves to indicate the sad shape in which the country found itself at the time. Foreign brigands cannot possibly advance that far into the country without someone helping them from the inside. It is when there are no more national spirit or national ideals that insiders betray the country. As for this, persons in power, those in charge of education and religion, were responsible. Ch'oe Yeong for one, tried to rally the declining Koryeo. Hence, his allusion to restoring the Three Han. He was convinced that a heightened popular patriotism was all that was needed, and his conviction brought tears to his eyes.
But Satan appeared before Yi Seong-gye as tempter, as he had appeared before Saul, hero of Israel centuries before, and as he has since appeared before many another national hero elsewhere. While fighting the Japanese intruders, dislodging arrows in his leg, he could not have dreamed of becoming king. But when he was sitting on his laurels amid popular applause he was beginning to harbor different ideas. When people saluted him it was not to his person but to someone invisible hovering over him. Satan, who delights in falsehood, reminded him that it was indeed to Yi himself that they were paying homage. That was the occasion when Yi should have said: "Get thee hence, Satan: for it is written, Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve." That would have made him a true representative of the people, and only a true popular representative can represent God. Yi Seong-gye failed to live up to the role. His tempter put a royal robe on him and he was led astray. The two who yesterday were like two wheels on a cart were enemies today and for the rest of their lives. Nine years later, the crown was on the head of the one, the sword fell on that of the other. Riding on public approval representing him as one "without peer either heretofore or hereafter," Yi turned his soldiers back from Wihwa, an islet in midstream of the Yalu, ousted Ch'oe and deposed the king. The former was killed soon after and the latter was to be beheaded later in his place of exile. Power was secured in Yi's hands.
Ch'oe Yeong came from Ch'orwon in Kangweon-do province; fierce in appearance with unusual physical strength, he was firm of will, upright, truthful and pure in heart. As he lived by the advice of his father which he gave on his deathbed, "Look on gold as so much stone," he gave little thought to what he ate or where he lived. In consequence, his home was humble, his meals and clothes remained modest; he despised men in silk finery riding on well-fed horses. Facing the enemy in battle, he never lost composure, and fear never darkened his face even in the thick of flying arrows and pelting rocks. To ensure victory, he never hesitated to cut down a soldier who fell back even one step. He thus carried every battle he fought.
To him the country owed its safety, and the populace benefited from his administration. Seated as he was in positions of power, as commander or as minister, his record was clean from bribery; he enjoyed everyone's great admiration for his probity. He never allowed minor details to obscure the overall picture or the principal points. So he was able to recognize just a small number of the officers under him. When at court, he would invariably talk bluntly and in all seriousness, withholding nothing. When no one took heed, he would rue alone the lack of response. Once he confessed to someone: "I pondered affairs of state all night, and on the following morning when I told my fellow ministers what I had in mind, not a single one of them agreed with me. I might as well resign and live quietly in the country." He was somewhat simpleminded, was not fully versed in letters, lacked sophistication. He was resolute and intent on carrying out his decision; he often slew a person to uphold the dignity of office.
He was seventy-three years old when he died. On the place of execution, his face showed no emotion. He was so full of that spirit that has inspired great men that his body stood erect for a minute even after his head had fallen to the ground. As word of his execution spread, merchants of the capital closed shop to mourn his passing. The record says: At the news "even children in the streets and women in the country wept; passers-by dismounted as they approached the spot by the road where the corpse was abandoned"
It may seem extravagant to devote this much space to this one man, Ch'oe Yeong But he was one of the last men to embody the spirit of the living Korea that had persisted over the centuries. There is no telling how long we will have to wait before we meet a similar soul. When the head of the gray-haired general rolled on the roadside near the city of Songdo, one surely would have heard the thunderous crash of Korea's forty-century-old tower as it collapsed in a heap. Was it not Koreds spirit that died then, not Choe Yeong It is only human, nor is it without meaning, to devote a little extra space to honor his memory. So long as there is such a soul, the fallen tower of Koreds history shall grow again from the scattered stones. That day will surely come. A comment made about Ch'oe Yeong "As his services benefited the whole country, so his offense hurt the whole land" was widely accepted as apt, but we would do well to reword the comment thus: "If he had his faults they were but for one generation; his service will endure down through the generations. "
The end of Silla was more sordid than that of Koguryeo or Paekche; Koryeo's end was worse yet, and Yi Koreds was the worst of all. This was in inverse proportion to how alive was the spirit that informed each of these dynasties. The case of the monk Sin Ton best illustrates the last moral depravity of Koryeo. It was a product of the extreme corruption of Buddhism. One can see how prosperous Buddhism was from the fact that Songdo, a city of one hundred and thirty thousand households, had as many as three hundred temples. Although the founder, well aware of the abuses of Buddhism in the previous dynasty, kept Buddhism on a leash, his successors were less strict in enforcing this policy. Buddhism gained ground again as government became lax, particularly since the time of King Injong, and Mongol invasions intensified. Buddhism prospered but only in form. There was no life in it to be of any spiritual benefit. Without truthfulness in a believing heart, even a fine religion will only do harm. What is truly noble is the search for the true self . Most adherents in Koryeo took up Buddhism as a secular diversion, not out of any spiritual needs; most of them were aristocrats. Given such patronage, the temples came into possession of vast property, were tax-exempt, and harbored monksoldiers who tended to act without restraint, banking as they did on the power of their patrons. Thus, more taxes had to be added to a populace already burdened as it was.
In short, the Buddhism of the period was not oriented toward the mountains but toward the marketplace. While the original spirit of Buddhism had to do with rising above this world, the monks came down from the mountains in pursuit of its riches. Traditional Korean thought was centered on the mountains; the mountains were held sacred, as repositories of purity. The filth of secularism may be cleansed by going up the mountains. Against this background, religion, descending to the marketplace and its gutters, naturally lost its vigor.
Thus passed away the period of Koryeo with all its tasks yet to be finished and all its opportunities missed. Now the stage of history was moved and limited permanently to the southern part of the Changbaek mountain range. With the shift of scene, murmurs and groans kept rising to the northern skies as if to echo the wailings of the unrequited soul of Koguryeo.
The history of Yi Korea is like a wagon with a broken axle. The axle of history is national spirit and national ideals. You may push a pair of wheels with a broken axle and they will roll every which way but not forward. Similarly, all its governmental and cultural activities only hindered Yi Koreds progress.
Few of the legends alluding to Yi Seong-gye praise his virtues. With his unusual physical strength he was able to pull two fighting bulls apart by his bare hands. His skill of archery was such that he never missed a target.
He was cunning and wily so that he made two identical dice and by this cheated an owner out of his house, which later was turned into a shrine in Hamhung. By stratagem he rounded up all the members of the vanquished royal family of Koryeo and drowned them.
Of virtue and generosity legend is silent. The death of CHoe Yeong saddened all, the legend says, including even unlettered womenfolk and ignorant boys herding oxen. Cho'oe's personality has to do with this reaction but also implicit is a widespread disapproval of Yi Seong-gye's rebellion. At the time of ouster of the last king of Koryeo, Yi Seong-gye showed no emotion at the tearful pleas of the doomed king, which set all onlookers sobbing. One cannot hold back the feeling of how callous he was as a man creating a new dynasty. Accordingly the country he set up, was based not on popularity born of his virtue or in response to a sense of justice and fairness. It was a product of violence, guile and expediency.
This is not to belittle Yi's services or to disparage his personality. Apart from his lack of virtue, no one will begrudge him the credit for in troducing some order in a society in utter confusion and injecting, if brief ly, some fresh force. I am concerned not with Yi Seong-gye as An individual but with the personality of the representative of the nation who was about to undertake the founding of a dynasty. Regardless of whether he achieved leadership by popularity or by force, he was the representative of the nation at the time. What he did was part of history. If he became king without any deserving virtue, the popular will had fallen to a lower level. If a man of ambition became ruler, then to that degree was the conscience of the ruled numbed. If ambition and guile gained him the throne, the source of the sense of loyalty at the royal court had gone dry. This is my point. Not that there were not a few Koryeo literati with high principles; there are place names in Kaeseong (Songdo) such as the "Pass of No Homage" and "Closed Door Village , " signifying this small number of per sonages who refused to knuckle under to the founder. But they lacked sufficient vigor to affect the tenor of society. So the Closed Door Village remained a village of recluses. As regards the destiny of a nation, the ultimate responsibility rests with the populace at large, and their conscience was paralyzed. That is why we say these five centuries represent a history with a broken axle, and its causes run deep. From the outset life at court was marred by hapless events, which bode ill for what was to hap pen to a country built on profit-seeking. The founder had a number of sons, who soon began fighting among themselves for the position of heir. As if to demonstrate before the world how unerring and inexorable is the law of cause and effect, these sons each ordered his soldiers into the capital, fighting each other. The founder of the dynasty, furious and heartbroken, retired to Harnhung never to return, and most of the envoys from his son, the second king, were executed or exiled--to the point of creating a proverbial phrase "Hamhung envoy." Agonizing were Yi Seong- last years of life. The doomed envoys' journeys were the path for the nation. He might have behaved differently if, instead of spending all his time practicing archery, he had ever read at least the first chapter of Mencius:
Why do you talk of profit only, oh, king? All you need is benevolenceand justice ... if those above and those below only engage in seekingprofit they will all unavoidably seize and loot.The fratricidal squabbling was not entirely due to his practice of keeping many wives, nor to the founder's misconduct alone. The fact is that it started the moment the head of Ch'oe Yeong rolled and the skull of Choeng Mongju was smashed. The fight among the princes was not just a family quarrel. For things to have reached such a pass there were seekers of fame and profit maneuvering behind the scenes. Yi Seong-gye had gathered them around him and cherished them more than his own sons. It was Yi himself who was the first to teach the doctrine of "no satisfaction without grasping. " How is it that he did not realize that the eyes of those applauding him as he seized the throne were on the throne itself? Why did he not foresee that, when he had Ch'oe Yeong beheaded, he was showing the crying children watching the scene: "This is the way to cut the throats of my sons'
In a history with a broken axle all endeavors proved in vain. Reordered institutions served only to delay history's progress. Promotion of education and learning only brought setbacks. The culture in the reign of King Sejong can best be seen in this light. A man of talent and fond of learning, Sejong applied himself seriously to administration during his thirty-two years on the throne. He discontinued many abusive practices and greatly advanced culture. It is no accident that he is upheld as the greatest ruler of the dynasty. But his judicious administration failed to cure the malady deep in the marrow of Korean history, and in fact, soon after his demise nearly all his good work came unstuck.
Central to his grand scheme was the Chiphyeonjeon, established in the year following his ascension. It was an institution of scholars for study and training, to which better literati were recruited to pursue scholarship and to participate in policy debate. As a result, it was said, "A great number of talents were produced in ten years " Scholarship was naturally based on the Confucian classics, and the guiding philosophy of government was the Royal Way (wang-tao), or the way of right as opposed to the way of might, benevolent rule in the interest of all. The king set his sights on realizing the ideal of wang-tao. If Yi, the founder, was one who gave body to the country, King Sejong was one who sought to breathe spirit into it. Under the principle of the Royal Way the king did in fact rule benevolently but was far from succeeding in resuscitating Koreds spirit.
Sometimes the king would sit up till the first crowing of roosters watching with approval the scholars of the Chiphyeonjeon, at their scholarly tasks. In his later years when he had a Buddhist temple built and the scholars withdrew in a body to protest, the king called in his prime minister and asked, in tearful voice, "What do I do now that all my scholars have abandoned me?" These incidents serve to show how devoted he was to his undertakings. Nevertheless, a dark cloud cast a shadow on this splendid interval, for that bit of spirit of freedom was still lacking.
Had Sejong ruled a little longer he might have managed to fix the broken axle. One sign of this was his formulation of Han'geul, a Korean writing system. Apparently there were some writing systems earlier, which must have been simple in structure though not much is known about just how elaborate they were; otherwise, they would not have disappeared simply as the consequence of the introduction of the Chinese writing system. A certain cryptic writing is said to have been used as far back as the TaWgun period. There is some evidence that the Kogury6 period also had a writing different from the Chinese system, only to be superseded by Chinese characters.
By the time of Sejong the need for a vernacular writing system came to be keenly felt. This was brought about by the upsurge of culture and the increasing complexity of society. The king had a system of twentyeight elements created and widely disseminated. Recent researches seem to indicate that the writing system may have preceded Sejong. In any event, it was to his credit that the way was open for the widespread use of vernacular writing. If a truly valuable culture cannot be had without freedom of spirit and if the development of spirit depends in large measure on what kind of writing is available, as a tool of its manifestation, the contribution of Sejong is significant indeed in Korean cultural history.
Koreans were unable to write their own fine language for lack of a writing system, or had to borrow complicated Chinese writing in preference to any Korean writing. This is an aberrant situation stemming from the superiority of far advanced Chinese culture and also the fact that the culture was shared exclusively by a minority of individuals in power. As happens in any society, the powerful individuals gained positions of advantage by monopolizing Chinese culture, and conversely, they found it to their advantage to perpetuate cultural monopoly if they were to retain their positions. So education in olden times was given only to son& of the powerful as a means of ensuring their position, and the powerful were reluctant to provide education to sons of commoners. Why then would they have gone out of their way devising a new writing system when such a convenient instrument was at hand? The more complicated the writing system the better, for that was just the way for them to take pride in having mastered it, to preserve their dignity of office and to discourage commoners from learning it. Up until just a few decades ago Chinese writing was held sacred, nearly idolized, while commoners did not dare dream of learning it. It was a situation that suited the rulers' purpose very well, for an ignorant populace is easier to use and exploit. Self-styled scholars, aristocrats and leaders thought, not always consciously, that they were the sole possessors of culture, often under the mistaken notion of solemnity or sacredness of that culture. Who but the scholars of the Chiphyeonjeon, were the loudest in their protest against the king's announcement of the writing system?
Thinking of this, one will be struck by the greatness of Sejong. He was king not just by heredity, he was one appointed by Heaven. He made the writing system and had Chinese books translated into Korean all for the benefit of the populace. He was really concerned with the well-being of the populace, with life. How was such a sagacious heart possible in this kind of history?
As Confucius in his day admired Kuan Chung for his work in preserving Chinese culture, "Had it not been for him I would be a barbarian now," we Koreans of all people would not have escaped the lot of beasts had it not been for Sejong amidst all the predatory creatures. It is all but miraculous sometimes to see hearts of purity bloom like a lotus out of the gutter of this history. This must be the work of Heaven. This must be proof that the multitudes have not died after all. Great was Sejong but then wasn't it also the desire of the multitudes, was it not a command of history?
The march of history had reached the point where it was no longer possible to do the job of a king or an official without educating the multitude. The making of the writing system was the beginning of the awakening of the multitude, who had now opened their eyes. Strange indeed is the fact that the Koreans finally got a tool of liberation as late as five centuries ago after a history of five millenia. Where else can there be such a multitude who suffered as much, although the multitudes are sufferers in any history?
We will not pause to discuss each of the brilliant works of Sejong's administration-the compilation of the official history, the publication of books, the promotion of industry, the rearrangement of music, the advances in astronomy. But one thing that deserves special mention is his military action, for this provides a measure of the national spirit of the time.
Japanese pirates' raids had intensified since before the fall of Koryeo, to the great vexation of the people. Sejong launched an invasion against the Japanese island of Tsushima, which was believed to be a stronghold of these marauders. In the north, the Juchen--whom Ming, after the downfall of Yeuan, attempted to contain by extending her sway into Manchuria but with little success-had again asserted themselves by frequently invading the peninsula. Under King Sejong's plan, the Juchen were repeatedly attacked, from the fourteenth through the twenty-third year of his reign, until they were subdued. To secure the border he ordered the establishment of four garrisons on the Yalu and six fortresses south of the Tumen; he ordered development of the land and the settling of families. Clearly it was an opportunity to send the national spirit soaring, and what actually happened? The Koreans failed to cross the two rivers. Every Korean knows the song of General Kim Chong-seo, nicknamed the Tiger, who was in charge of the development of the Six Fortresses:
Across the tree-tops north winds are blowing,
A bright moon is cold over the snow.
On the far-off frontier I stand sword in hand, Calling out commands loud and clear;
Nothing stops the sound as it carries far and wide.
"Far-off frontier," says the song, but why was it not pushed farther? Perhaps Kim Chong-seo, too was powerless before the overarching forces of conservatism. Perhaps he was reduced to his song as the only way to vent his indignation and express his courage.
At first the king ordered Chong-seo, to establish four fortresses. Sharp opposition was voiced at court but Chong-seo, was adamant. Those opposed said that he was undertaking a work impossible of accomplishment and therefore he deserved to be beheaded. Whereupon the king silenced the opposition, saying that without Chong-seo, he would not call for the work and without himself Chong-seo, could not. The king went forward with his plan.
From this passage in the
Myeongsillok (Lives of Illustrious Ministers) we can infer the prevailing situation. The literati, who let a real man, Yuri Kwan, die in frustration, and who beheaded Choeng Chi-sang and Ch'oe Yeong were at it again-ruining the country.This is how it is with a history with a broken axle and a nation without a spine. Consequently, the Chiphyeonjon did not help; a rare, sagacious heart passed on frustrated, a culture that promised to bloom faded.
Munjong succeeded to the throne when he was thirty-seven, in the prime of life. Good looking with a long beard, intelligent and kindly. He had a decided liking for learning. Stern and dignified he had even so an aura as soft as a spring breeze. Expectations were high that he would become a fine ruler. Had he lived longer he certainly would have brought his father's undertakings to a fruitful end. But that was not what Heaven intended. He died after barely two years on the throne. He was not entirely blameless for his untimely death. Legend has it that he so grieved his father's passing that he ruined his health. If indeed that was the case, here is another case of abuse of Confucian ethics.
His twelve-year old son succeeded him on the throne. It was tragic enough that the boy king, Tanjong, had to sit on the throne. He would otherwise have been running up and down the hills holding on to the string of his kite. That he was to be the center of a tragedy that would unfold in five short years no one was aware, not those who put him on the throne nor himself, perhaps not even his uncle, Prince Suyang, who was to orchestrate the villainous scheme. Munjong himself had had misgivings. Since he felt uneasy about leaving the throne to an immature child, he gave special instructions to his trusted ministers. That was the first step in the wrong direction, although he could not help it under the circumstances. Wouldn't that have antagonized Suyang? For he may well have felt that the dying king had gone over the head of his own brother to consult his ministers. The prince may not have felt so, but the people at large felt that he did. A dark cloud overshadowed a period that once promised justice and peace.
The destiny of the country was hanging on the direction Prince Suyang was to take. The direction of history is determined by an infinitesimally small difference at the beginning. The nation's eyes were on Suyang to see whether the heart of Heaven or the heart of Satan would move him. What he had in mind would show on his face. This is why the nation felt uneasy; it was a moment of suspense.
Suyang yielded; he let ambition sway him. In persistence and swordsmanship he was comparable to Yi Seong-gye Once bent on a course nothing stopped him and he stopped at nothing. Suyang knew how strong he was, where his talents would carry him. He rounded up wild and unruly characters, who would, if government were in proper order, skulk in some dark corners, as owls shun the sunshine, and nurse their imagined grievances. When his plot had been laid out, he struck in October of the first year of the young king's reign. He began by finishing off Kim Chong-seo, a towering pillar of the state who commanded unstinted popular support and trust. In one night he had all loyal ministers murdered who would have protested his unlawful scheme. Then perhaps because a lingering compunction may have deterred him, he stopped at seizing actual power, but not for long. In June of the following year, over the pleas of his nephew the king, "Uncle, please spare me" he ousted him and usurped the throne. He took the name King Sejo.
The thirty-six year-long reign of King Sejong had been, as we have seen, a period memorable for good government that outshone the rest of the Yi dynasty. But the early demise of his successor, Munjong, changed the course of events. There were eight principal princes around Munjong. They could have been a source of support. Prince Suyang in particular could have been Munjong's right-hand man and may have expected to be. But the eight princes did not cooperate; they threatened the good order of things. Prince Suyang could have helped, but his capabilities were not so directed. Rather, he acted as a terrible overseer. Thus, the stage for tragedy was set.
The meaning of history goes beyond the individuals involved. As individuals, Munjong was a good king who happened to die young, Tanjong deserved pity, and Sejo was a greedy, impudent man who succeeded by harsh tactics. One might feel a deep sense of loss for Munjong, heartfelt compassion for Tanjong, and outright condemnation for Sejo. But Sejo is to be pitied even more than the victim Tanjong. Sejo inspires a greater sense of loss than Munjong. For all three bore the history of suffering on their backs.
It was not just because of his young son that Munjong lingered on his deathbed but also because of his anxiety that the foundations that had been laid might be destroyed by the terrible overseer. Tanjong pleaded with Suyang, who came to him like the very devil, his clothes smeared with Kim Chong-seo's blood and murder in his eyes: "Uncle, spare me!" It was not just a thirteen-year-old afraid to die begging for his life; it was Korea's conscience about to perish, begging for mercy in anticipation of God's judgment. In order to become king, Suyang slaughtered loyal ministers and men of righteousness, and butchered his brothers as well as his young nephew.
As the stern, ruthless overseer, Suyang, played out his historic role, totally oblivious of the consideration, dignity or concession due to others. Sejong had established the Chiphyeonjeon, trained talented people, taught morality and loyalty in order to lay the groundwork for a better country. He acted properly but failed to go deep enough, beyond the wreckage of history to the bottom rock of the self. Members of the Chiphyeonjeon, no doubt had talent and learning acquired from others. But did they reach the level of religion which involves self-exploration? Far from it. They were still not free from the worship of power, from a sense of the ruler's eminence. It seemed as if they were worthy and dependable until Suyang smashed the decades of endeavor with one blow. They were loved by Sejong. They pledged undying loyalty. But at one withering stare from Suyang they groveled and fell over each other begging his mercy. That was not all. Once the situation turned definitely to Suyang's favor, these gentlemen-scholars outdid each other in selling out their former master in return for wealth and position. Choeng In-ji, Sin Suk-chu, Ch'oe Hang and their like had been treated by Sejong like his own sons; they were such friends with Munjong that he personally poured liquor into their cups and covered them with his cloak when they had fallen asleep drunk. And what did they do? Choeng and Sin urged Suyang to exile Tanjong and have him murdered. It was Ch'oe who went out to congratulate Suyang on his way from the murder of Kim Chong-seo, These were the people of the Chiphyeonjeon, Such was the Way of Ancient Kings. These were the scholar-gentlemen.
The remark of Chuang-tzu of China was appropriate when he said in effect that securing property in a strong box under lock and key may be protection enough from a small thief but the chest and lock can be merely a way to contain the property so that a big thief can carry off the chest and all it contains. Suyang took advantage of the Confucian teaching that Sejong had encouraged. It was thanks to justification in the name of Confucian ethics that Suyang enjoys his place in history as an illustrious sovereign. The whole range of Confucianism is worse than useless when it loses the spirit or soul that holds it together. Without such spirit, the Way of the Ancient Kings is the way of the beast, its loyalty and justice is nothing but a chain to tie the slave down, and the code of proper human relationships turns into bonds in the hands of a thief.
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