Revenue.... mathematics.... the bridge removed.... friends with China
again.... Confucianism wanes.... Buddhist book from Japan....
frontier defence.... prophecy.... Han-yang made a secondary
capital.... new laws.... cash counterfeited.... Yŭ-jin taken....
botany.... beginnings of the Kin power.... between Kitan and Kin....
kingdom of Wŭn.... China allies herself with Kitan.... Kin seeks the
good will of Koryŭ.... dancing-girls and Buddhism.... Kin demands
Koryŭ alliance.... refused.... defense of the north.... an ambitious
official.... Kitan falls.... Sung dynasty falls.... harbor
improvement.... Buddhist trickery.... rebellion quelled....
historical work, Sam-guk-sa.... an abject king.... Kin
immigrants.... a good governor for Quelpart.... military faction
dominant.... criminals, houses destroyed.... king banished.... a
plot foiled.... the emperor suspicious.... military and monastic
factions.... attempted revolution.... monastic revolt.
It is evident that population and revenue are proportionate. Not often
is the question of population touched upon in the Korean annals but some
light is thrown upon it by the statement that at this time the revenue
from the north, from the most distant places only, was 49,000 bags of
rice. From this we must infer that the north was fairly well populated.
An interesting point in connection with the mathematical knowledge of
the time is brought out in the statement that the system of land tax was
changed and was collected at a certain rate per each square of
thirty-three paces; but if the field was large the tax was a certain
amount for each tract forty-seven paces square. The square of
thirty-three is 1089 and the square of forty-seven is 2209, which is the
nearest possible to twice the square of thirty-three. It would seem then
that they had some notion of the properties of geometrical figures.
It was about this time that Kitan changed its name to Yo. She at once
sent an envoy announcing the fact. These were the golden days of Koryŭ’s
relations. The Yŭ-jin tribe of To-ryŭng-ko-do-wha came and swore
allegiance as also did the Chang-man and Tu-hul tribes. A few years
later a Japanese ruler named Sal-ma sent gifts to the Koryŭ court as
also did the people of Tsushima.
During the latter years of this reign the Kitan people were induced to
break down the bridge across the Yalu but it was done only by sending an
abject letter in which the Koryŭ king said “As all the world is yours
and all the people in the world belong to you, you have no need of a
bridge to bind us to you.”
In 1077 an envoy came from the Emperor of China (Sung dynasty) asking
aid against the Kitan. The king might well have turned and answered that
as the Emperor had remained deaf to Koryŭ’s entreaties for help so now
Koryŭ would decline to respond. But he did nothing of the kind; this
opportunity to reëstablish friendly relations with China was hailed with
delight by all classes. The king, though ill, was carried on his bed
outside the city walls to meet this welcome messenger. The latter was
treated royally and was loaded with so many gifts that he could not take
them back with him. He had no intention, however, of leaving them
entirely, for he sold them and took the money instead. This sort of
thrift was something new to the Koreans and they showed their disgust by
ridiculing him; and when he left they spat upon the ground in token of
their contempt. We are not told that Koryŭ gave the aid requested. And
yet the friendly relations were continued, as is seen from the fact that
in 1079 the emperor sent physicians and medicines to Koryŭ. We have here
the first definite mention of gold mining in the statement that the
people of Hong-wŭn dug a hundred ounces of gold and a hundred and fifty
ounces of silver, which they sent to the king. He graciously gave it
back to them.
In 1084 the king died and his adopted son Hun, posthumous title
Sun-jong, came to the throne; but he died almost immediately and was
succeeded the same year by his younger brother Un, posthumous title
Sŭn-jong. When the messenger announcing this arrived at the gates of the
Kitan capital he was refused entrance, for they said there must be some
underlying cause for the sudden death of king Sun-jong.
Under the new king, Buddhism continued its rapid advance. In the first
year of his reign he instituted a Buddhist examination to take the place
of the ordinary examination which was at bottom Confucian; and so
Buddhism scored a decided victory over her rival. It was a blow from
which Confucianism recovered only by the extinction of the dynasty.
These examinations the king attended in person, a Buddhist book being
carried before him. He sent the prince to China to learn more about the
tenets of the popular faith and when he returned the king went out to
welcome him home. The young man brought back 1,000 volumes of Buddhistic
books. Later the king secured 4,000 volumes more from the same source.
The records distinctly state that he sent also to Japan to secure still
other Buddhistic books. This is a strong indication that Japan did not
obtain her Buddhism largely from Korea. It proves at least that she had
a more direct channel for the procuring of Buddhist literature than by
way of Korea, otherwise Koryŭ would hardly have applied to her for
books. The king married his own sister. The bridge across the Yalu had
been destroyed but it would seem that it had been again built, for now
in 1088 the records say it was finally destroyed.
King Sŭn-jong could not do enough for Buddhism. A vast amount of
government rice was turned from its legitimate uses and found its way
into the store-rooms of monasteries. The king constructed a
thirteen-storey pagoda in the palace. His mother made frequent visits to
one of the monasteries.
The only act of this king which was not with special reference to
Buddhism was the stationing at Eui-ju of a large number of war chariots
to be used in defense of the frontier.
In 1095 the king was succeeded by his son Uk, posthumous title Hön-jong,
who was only eleven years old. His uncle Ong become regent but proved
unfaithful and in the following year drove the boy from the throne and
proclaimed himself king. His title was Suk-jong. The most important
events of his reign were in connection with the founding of a second
capital as Han-yang, the present Seoul. The monk Tosun who, it will be
remembered, had taught the young Wang-gön the science of war, had also
left a prophecy to the effect that after 160 years it would be well for
the kingdom if the site of the capital be changed. The preliminary
arrangements were made early in this reign but it was not until the year
1104 that a palace was actually constructed there, nor was the royal
residence changed either at this time or at any later period, for any
considerable length of time. A few important laws were promulgated; that
if relatives intermarried they could not receive official position; that
the nomination of an heir to the throne should be made only after
consultation with the court of the northern suzerain; that candidates
who failed to pass the government examinations should be solaced by
receiving military rank.
It is said that in 1100 copper cash had begun to circulate for the first
time with freedom among the people. Buddhism also made material advances
during this reign and riveted its fetters more firmly upon the body
politic. On the whole it was a very clean reign, when we remember that a
usurper was on the throne.
In 1106 Suk-jong’s son U, posthumous title Ye-jong, came to the throne.
At the very first he was confronted by a new problem. The people had yet
to learn that the coinage of money is a purely government monopoly. The
readiness with which cash circulated tempted some to attempt to
counterfeit it. The king consequently promulgated a law inflicting a
heavy penalty upon this offense and at the same time made a law against
the adulteration of food.
Having, in his third year, married a near relative he took as a teacher
a monk named Un-jin, another indication of the steady progress of that
cult. The talk about the change of site for the capital resulted in the
building of a palace at P‘yŭng-yang and several royal progresses to each
of the proposed sites.
The tribe of Yŭ-jin had repeatedly promised to remain peaceful and had
as often broken their word; so now when they began to grow restless
again, the king decided to make an end of the matter. He sent a strong
force into their territory, killed 4,800 men and took several thousand
prisoners. The territory was divided into four administrative districts.
In 1115 the king developed a fad. He became an enthusiastic botanist. He
ransacked the kingdom for rare and beautiful plants and sent them to
China in exchange for many kinds that were not indigenous.
We have now arrived at the threshold of events which were destined to
result in the founding of a great dynasty. In order to explain we must
go back a few years. Early in this dynasty a Koryŭ monk from
P‘yŭng-yang, named Keum-jun, had fled, for some reason not stated, to
the town of A-ji-go among the Yŭ-jin tribe. He had there married a
Yŭ-jin woman and gotten a son whom he named Ko-eul. He in turn begot
Whal-ra, and to him were born many sons, the eldest of whom was
Hyo-ri-bal and the second Yong-ga. The latter was unusually bright and
popular and eventually became chief; but on his death the son of his
brother Hyo-ri-bal, named O-a-sok, took his place. O-a-sok died and his
younger brother, A-gol-t‘a, became chief. Yŭ-jin was at this time a
small weak tribe under the sway of the Ki-tan court, but now the
masterly genius of A-gol-t‘a had come to her help, matters were destined
to assume a different complexion.
It was now in 1114 that the little tribe of Yŭ-jin broke off its
allegiance to Kitan and prepared to carve out a career for herself under
her great leader. Soon an envoy came in haste from the capital of Kitan
commanding the king to stand ready to drive back the Yŭ-jin tribe if
they attempted to escape into his territory, for the emperor of Kitan
was about to chastise his recalcitrant vassal.
The next year A-gol-t‘a with sublime presumption proclaimed himself
emperor and named his kingdom Kin. At the same time he changed his own
name to Min.
The Kitan emperor sent again demanding a contingent of Koryŭ troops.
After anxious consultation it was decided to keep the soldiers near home
and guard the interests of Koryŭ. In the war between Kitan and Kin the
former were severely handled and again appealed to Koryŭ for help, but
now with no hope of success.
The next year, 1116, a Koryŭ envoy Yun Eun-sun was sent to the Kitan
court but he did not return, so a second one was dispatched to learn the
cause. The fact is, the first envoy had fallen into the hands of a new
power named Wŭn which had been set up in eastern Kitan by a man named Ko
Yöng-ch‘ang. War was still raging between Kitan and Kin and the whole
country was in a state of turmoil and confusion. The second envoy from
Koryŭ fell into the hands of the Wŭn people but got out of the
difficulty by promptly stating that he was accredited to them by the
king of Koryŭ; and he forthwith laid out his present. This made the
upstart “emperor” of Wŭn wild with delight and, loading the envoy with
rich presents, he sent him back home. Instead of going back to the king,
however, the envoy returned secretly to his own home, and it was only by
accident that the king learned of his return. When he did learn of it he
sent for the man and inflicted summary punishment. Of course the Wŭn
people liberated the other envoy and sent him home. Him also the king
punished for having saved his life by seemingly offering allegiance to
Wŭn.
The emperor of China sent an envoy to Koryŭ with gifts of musical
instruments and took advantage of the occasion to ask the Koryŭ king
about the Kitan people. The king answered, “Of all the savage tribes
they are the worst.” When this reply reached the Chinese court some of
the courtiers said that the king of Koryŭ was trying to keep China from
knowing Kitan, since there was treasure there which Koryŭ wanted to
secure for herself. The emperor therefore sent and made an alliance with
Kitan, which, as the sequel shows, cost him dear.
Kitan was being hard pressed by Kin, and Gen. Ya Ryul-lyŭng wanted to
escape and find asylum somewhere, so the king sent him a verbal
invitation to come to Koryŭ. He replied that he could not do so without
a written invitation. The Koryŭ statesmen feared that this covered some
kind of trickery and the written invitation was not sent.
Koryŭ desired to put out a feeler to see how she stood with the Kin
power so she sent a message saying “The district of P‘o-ju is rightfully
Koryŭ territory and we should be pleased to have it turned over to us.”
The answer was given without an hour’s delay “Certainly, take it and do
with it as you wish.” Evidently the great Kin leader did not intend to
let a single district stand between him and the good-will of a power
which might cause him serious trouble while he was prosecuting his
designs upon China.
The year ended with a great feast at the capital of Koryŭ at which
dancing girls from all parts of the country congregated. The records say
that they came “in clouds” which indicates the social status of the
country. Buddhism had her representative in every home, but no severe
asceticism would seem to have characterized the people, if this report
is true.
The year 1117 beheld repeated triumphs of the Kin leader over the Kitan
forces, the flight of the Kitan general Ya Ryul-lyŭng by boat, the
burning of the Kitan fleet and the cession to Koryŭ of two more
districts, thus placing her border again at the Yalu River. But this
concession was of design for it was followed by a letter from the Kin
court which read as follows: “The elder brother, the Emperor of the
Great Kin, to the younger brother, the king of Koryŭ; we were a small,
weak tribe and were badly treated by the Kitan power but now we are
about to destroy it. The King of Koryŭ must now make with us a firm
treaty which shall be binding to the ten thousandth generation.”
This met with an almost universal negative among the wise-heads of
Koryŭ, but one voice was heard saying “They may be in a position to do
us great harm and we should comply with this demand.” The latter opinion
did not prevail. Three years later another envoy came from the king of
Kin with gifts but the accompanying letter was couched in low language
which was construed into an insult and was answered in the same tone.
The king then hastened to repair the fortresses in the north and to
increase the height of the wall stretching across the country; but the
Kin emperor sent and forbade it. When he received as answer the question
“What affair is it of yours?” he kept his temper and did not press the
demand for he was anxious just then to be on good terms with his
southern neighbor.
We must not imagine that these years were barren of events of importance
within the bounds of Koryŭ herself. Splendid monasteries were built,
notably the beautiful An-wha monastery; embassies and gifts were
received from China; the king made trips to P‘yŭng-yang and Han-yang. In
spite of the height to which Buddhism had climbed, we read in the annals
that the king frequented the society of dancing girls to such an extent
that he drew down upon himself the censure of one of his highest
officials, whom he consequently banished.
In 1123 the king’s son Hă, posthumous title In-jong, came to the throne.
An official, Yi Ja-gyŭm, who had risen to the highest position under the
former king seemed to think himself in a sense on an equality with the
young king now on the throne, and wanted to have him bow to him, but the
other officials interfered and prevented it. In order to make his
position the more secure, and to strengthen his influence over the king,
Yi Ja-gyŭm bestowed upon him his four daughters to wife. Naturally he
incurred the bitter enmity of the other officials, who sought means for
destroying him, but without success. As a last resort they sent a band
of soldiers to the palace to kill him. But he escaped to his private
house, taking the king with him. From that place he governed the land as
he wished. Finding the king an incumbrance he tried to do away with him
by the use of poisoned bread, but someone warned the king, and instead
of eating the bread he threw it out of the window and the magpies, which
soon discovered it, fell dead on the spot. Thereupon the king sent a
secret message to one of his generals and soon the traitor was
travelling southward into exile and all his connections and followers
were put where they could do no more harm.
It was in the third year of this King, 1124, that the Kin armies finally
overthrew the Kitan power. The false report came to Koryŭ that China had
defeated the Kin forces and that the leader of the defeated power was
coming to find asylum in Koryŭ. The king was advised by some to take
this opportunity of dealing Kin a staggering blow, but the more cautious
advised delay until the report should be authenticated. This was
fortunate, for the report proved false.
It was in 1126 that the northern Sung dynasty came to an end at the
hands of the all-conquering Kin. The records state that Kin leaders
carried the last emperor of the Sung dynasty away and set up one Chang
Pang-ch‘ang as king in his stead, and changed the name of the dynasty to
Ch‘o. When this had been effected the Kin emperor sent Gen. Ya Ryul
Ka-geum to Koryŭ bearing his commands to the king, but what those
commands were the records do not tell.
The influence which priestcraft had exercised in Koryŭ was well
illustrated by a monk Myo-chung of P‘yŭng-yang who told the King that
there was no more “king Spirit” in the soil of Song-do, but if he should
move the capital to P‘yŭng-yang the Kitan, Kin and Sung would all become
subject to him. The king believed every word of this and ordered a
palace to be built there for his occupancy. A year or so later, after
sending the Kin court his abject submission, he essayed to move to the
northern city by boat, but a fresh breeze sprang up and he quickly
changed his mind and hurried back to Song-do. The coastwise trade must
have been of considerable importance, for we read that the water on the
bar at Hong-ju harbor, was too shallow for boats of large burden to
cross, so the king put several thousand men to work to deepen the
channel; but to no effect.
The fight between Confucianism and Buddhism went steadily on. The king
was the puppet of the latter but could not always carry out his plans.
He wanted to take away the support of Confucian schools and turn over
the funds to the monks, but this called out such a storm of
remonstrances that he hastened to recall the order. He had not forgotten
the flattering words of the monk Myo-chung, and now in 1130 he took
occasion to visit the city of P‘yŭng-yang. The tricky monk had made
preparation for his coming. Hollow loaves of bread were prepared with
holes in their sides after the style of a Jack-o’-lantern. Oil was
placed inside and as the king approached the town at dusk these were
floated down the stream, and the oil on the water, shining in the light
of the setting sun, reflected all the hues of the rainbow. The monk told
the king that this was the dragon’s breath. This was to convince the
king of the truth of his former statement. But the king’s attendants
were sceptical and sent messengers who returned with the bread floats,
thus unmasking the trickster. They demanded the head of the monk but the
king did not consent.
Foiled in this the ambitious monk laid new plans. In 1135 they were
ready to be put in execution. Together with a fellow traitor, Cho Kwang,
he massed soldiers at P‘yŭng-yang and set up a kingdom of his own which
he named Ta-wi. He called the army the “Celestial Army,” perhaps to keep
them in good humor. The government forces easily overcame these
insurrectionary forces and Cho Kwang, finding that the end was
approaching, tried to buy pardon by cutting off the head of the monk and
bringing it to the capital. The king forgave him, but no sooner had he
re-entered the gates of P‘yŭng-yang than he raised the standard of
revolt again. The royal forces laid siege to the city, and having broken
down a portion of the wall effected an entrance. Cho Kwang, seeing that
there was no longer any chance of safety, set fire to his house and
perished in the flames.
We find in the records the curious statement that the law against murder
was revised, making that crime a greater one than the killing of a cow.
The following year there was a Buddhistic festival at which 30,000 monks
were present.
In the year 1145 occurred an event of great importance. A century and a
quarter had now passed since the kingdom of Sil-la had fallen and as yet
the annals of Sil-la, Ko-gu-ryŭ and Păk-je had not been worked up into a
proper history. This year it was done and the great work entitled
_Sam-guk-sa_, or History of the Three Kingdoms, was the result. This
work which, though rare, exists to-day, is the thesaurus of ancient
Korean history, and it is the basis upon which all subsequent histories
of ancient Korea are founded. Its compiler, Kim Pu-sik, is one of the
celebrated literary men of Korea and may truly be called the father of
Korean history.
In-jong was succeeded in 1147 by his son Hyön, posthumous title
Eui-jong. Never before had a king given himself over so abjectly to the
priesthood. The people were thoroughly discontented with his course, but
he would listen to no remonstrances. It would have been better had he
been a more consistent Buddhist but his drinking, gambling and
licentiousness gave the lie to his religious pretentions and left the
impression that he was in reality only the tool of the priesthood. It is
said that his visits to a certain monastery were so frequent that an
awning had to be erected from the palace to its gates, and if at any
time the king was not to be found they looked for him in this monastery.
He was an object of ridicule to the whole people. A diviner told him
that if he built a palace at Păk-ju (now Pă-ch‘ŭn) in Whang-hă Province,
in seven years he would overcome both Kitan and Kin. The king was simple
enough to follow his advice. He wasted the public treasure on the
wildest debaucheries, gave high positions to monks and surrounded
himself with a vile set of men who debauched the palace women.
In 1165 numbers of the Kin people crossed the Yalu and settled at In-ju
and Chŭng-ju. The magistrates raised a force of soldiers on their own
account without royal authority and drove out the intruders and burned
their houses. The Kin emperor made the king restore them to their places
but the magistrates again drove them out; so the Emperor sent a body of
troops and seized sixteen of the country officials.
The officials desired to stop the king’s frequent visits to his favorite
monastery. One day as he was passing along his covered passage-way they
made his horse rear violently and at the same time one of them let fall
an arrow before him. The king was terrified, supposing that someone had
shot at him, so he returned to the palace in haste and barred the gates.
He charged a slave of his brother’s with having shot the arrow and after
wringing a false confession from him by torture put him to death.
In 1168 Ch’oe Ch’ŭk-kyŭng became prefect of T’am-na (Quelpart). He was
well liked by the people and when he was removed and another man put in
his place they rose in revolt, drove out the successor and said they
would have no governor but Ch’oe. So the King was obliged to reinstate
him. These people of Quelpart were very unruly. It was only during the
reign of this king’s father that the first prefect had been sent to that
island.
The king sent a commission to Dagelet island off the east coast to find
out whether it was habitable. They brought back an adverse report.
Besides his partiality to Buddhism the king added another burden to
those which the people already carried. He made the eunuchs his
instruments to exact money from the people, and to such as supplied him
with the most money from this illegal practice he gave rank and honors.
The king was continually feasting, but none of the military men enjoyed
his favor or shared his hospitality. Matters came to a crisis when in
1170 one of the military officials was struck by a civil official of a
lower grade in the presence of the king while at a monastery outside the
city. The matter was hushed up for the moment but when the company
separated some of the generals assembled the palace guards and seized
and killed the two leading civil officials. One, Han Roe, escaped and
hid behind the king’s bed. In spite of this the generals entered and
dragged him away to his death. Then they began to slaughter the civil
officials and eunuchs indiscriminately. The records say that the dead
bodies were piled “mountains high.” The military officials had a sign by
which they might be distinguished. The right shoulder was left bare and
they wore a head-dress called the _pok-tu_. Whoever was found lacking
these two signs was cut down. The king was in mortal fear and tried to
propitiate the leading general by the gift of a beautiful sword. He
accepted it but the work of death went on. They took the king back to
the capital and, arriving at the palace, cut down ten leading men at
that point. Then they went to the palace of the crown prince and killed
ten more. Proclamation was made in the main street “Kill any official
wearing the garments of the civil rank”. This was the sign for a general
slaughter and fifty more of the officials were murdered. After this,
twenty eunuchs were beheaded and their heads were set upon pikes.
Though the king was badly frightened he continued his evil course of
life without abatement. The generals wanted to kill him but were
dissuaded. The persecution of the civil officials continued but there
was some discrimination, for two of them who were better than the rest
were spared and protected. A civil official, returning from China,
learned of this _emeute_ and, gathering forces in the country,
approached the capital; but at a certain pass an unfavorable omen was
seen in the shape of a tiger sitting in the road. The omen was true, for
the improvised army was defeated by the insurrectionists. One Chöng
Chung-bu was the leading spirit in this business and he now proceeded to
pull down all the houses of the civil officials, turning a deaf ear to
the expostulations of those who pitied the widows and orphans. From this
time dates the custom of destroying the house of any official or
gentleman who is guilty of any serious crime against the king.
Gen. Chöng came to the conclusion that the king was a hopeless case and
so he banished him to Kö-je in Island, Kyŭng-sang Province, and the
Crown Prince to the island of Chin-do, and made way with a large number
of the king’s relatives and hangers-on. He then put the king’s younger
brother Ho on the throne. His posthumous title is Myŭng-jong. This was
in 1171.
Then all the offices were filled by military officials, Gen. Im
Keuk-ch’ung becoming Prime Minister. Mun Keup-kyŭm was one of the civil
officials who were spared, and he now feigned to be well content with
the condition of things and gave his daughter to the son of one of the
generals in marriage. An envoy was sent to the Kin court saying that as
the king was old and sick his brother had been given the reins of power.
One of the generals, Yi Ko, desired to effect a revolution and,
gathering his friends about him, promised them high honors in case the
attempt should succeed. Thereupon he took with him to a feast a number
of his followers with swords hidden in their sleeves. Gen. Ch’oa Wŭn,
however, suspected something and communicated his suspicions to Gen. Yi
Eui-bang who managed to get Gen. Yi Ko out into the anteroom and there
felled him to the ground with an iron mace and dispatched him. His
followers were also seized and killed.
The emperor suspected that the deposed king had been forcibly ejected
and so sent a letter severely blaming his successor. An envoy was
dispatched to the Kin court to explain matters. He talked well but the
emperor still suspected something and refused to answer the king’s
letter. The envoy thereupon sat down and deliberately began to starve
himself to death. This secured the desired answer and the envoy returned
to Song-do. The emperor sent a commission to enquire into the matter.
The commissioner was feasted at the capital and told that the deposed
king was old and sick and had gone away to a distant part of the country
and could not be produced.
The ill-will between the military and the monks was well illustrated
when the palace caught fire. General Chöng saw many monks running toward
the burning buildings, but rather than have them enter he locked the
gates and let the buildings burn to the ground.
The remnant of the civil officers were ever on the lookout for
opportunities to get the upper hand again and drive out the military
party. To this end Kim Po-dang sent letters to prefects far and wide and
a time for a rising was agreed upon. The banished king was put in the
van of the army thus improvised and they advanced as far as Kyöng-ju.
But the plan miscarried and Kim, its originator, was seized by the
people and sent to Song-do where he was put to death. Before dying he
exclaimed “I was in league with all the civil nobles.” This was probably
not true, but it caused a fresh outbreak of the military party upon the
civil nobles, and scores of them were killed. At last a reaction set in
and the military leaders, feeling that they had gone too far, tried to
make amends by giving their daughters to the sons of the civil officials
in marriage.
At this point occurred one of the most revolting events that blot the
pages of Korean history. Gen. Chöng, hearing that the banished king had
come as far as Kyöng-ju sent Gen. Yi Eui-mun to put him out of the way.
After the leader and two hundred members of the ex-king’s guard had been
treacherously killed the ex-king himself was spirited away to a
neighboring monastery. He was taken out to the brink of a pond behind
this monastery and there Gen. Yi, who was a man of immense stature,
seized him in his arms and crushed his ribs, killing him instantly. The
body was wrapped in blankets, placed in two kettles, which were placed
mouth to mouth, and thrown into the pond. When this monster, Gen. Yi,
returned to Song-do he was loaded with honors. Later a monk, who was a
good swimmer, raised the body and gave it decent burial.
In spite of the overwhelming power exercised by the military party, the
king was devoted to Buddhism. The monks were very anxious to kill Gen.
Yi, who had taken such an active part in deposing the late king; so they
massed in front of the palace and set fire to it by first firing the
adjoining houses. Gen. Yi made a sudden sally with a strong guard and
killed a hundred of the monks. He followed this up by demolishing five
monasteries whose sacred vessels and other utensils he confiscated.