The History of Korea

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HOMER B. HULBERT, A.M., F.R.G.S.

Seoul, 1905

The Methodist Publishing House

Preface

The sources from which the following History of Korea is drawn are almost purely Korean. For ancient and medieval history the Tong-sa Kang-yo has been mainly followed. This is an abstract in nine volumes of the four great ancient histories of the country. The facts here found were verified by reference to the Tong-guk Tong-gam, the most complete of all existing ancient histories of the country. Many other works on history, geography and biography have been consulted, but in the main the narrative in the works mentioned above has been followed.

A number of Chinese works have been consulted, especially the Mun-hon Tong-go wherein we find the best description of the wild tribes that occupied the peninsula about the time of Christ.

It has been far more difficult to obtain material for compiling the history of the past five centuries. By unwritten law the history of no dynasty in Korea has ever been published until after its fall. Official records are carefully kept in the government archives and when the dynasty closes these are published by the new dynasty. There is an official record which is published under the name of the Kuk-cho Po-gam but it can in no sense be called a history, for it can contain nothing that is not complimentary to the ruling house and, moreover, it has not been brought down even to the opening of the 19th century. It has been necessary therefore to find private iimanuscript histories of the dynasty and by uniting and comparing them secure as accurate a delineation as possible of the salient features of modern Korean history. In this I have enjoyed the services of a Korean scholar who has made the history of this dynasty a special study for the past twenty-five years and who has had access to a large number of private manuscripts. I withhold his name by special request. By special courtesy I have also been granted access to one of the largest and most complete private libraries in the capital. Japanese records have also been consulted in regard to special points bearing on the relations between Korea and Japan.

A word must be said in regard to the authenticity and credibility of native Korean historical sources. The Chinese written character was introduced into Korea as a permanent factor about the time of Christ, and with it came the possibility of permanent historical records. That such records were kept is quite apparent from the fact that the dates of all solar eclipses have been carefully preserved from the year 57 B.C. In the next place it is worth noticing that the history of Korea is particularly free from those great cataclysms such as result so often in the destruction of libraries and records. Since the whole peninsula was consolidated under one flag in the days of ancient Sil-la no dynastic change has been effected by force. We have no mention of any catastrophe to the Sil-la records: and Sil-la merged into Koryŭ and Koryŭ into Cho-sŭn without the show of arms, and in each case the historical records were kept intact. To be sure, there have been three great invasions of Korea, by the Mongols, Manchus and Japanese respectively, but though much vandalism was committed by each of these, we have reason to believe that the records were not tampered with. The argument is three-fold. In the first place histories formed the great bulk of the literature in vogue among the people and it was so widely disseminated that it could not have been seriously injured without annihilating the entire population.

In the second place these invasions were made by peoples who, though not literary themselves, had a somewhat iiihigh regard for literature, and there could have been no such reason for destroying histories as might exist where one dynasty was forcibly ejected by another hostile one. In the third place the monasteries were the great literary centers during the centuries preceding the rise of the present dynasty, and we may well believe that the Mongols would not seriously molest these sacred repositories. On the whole then we may conclude that from the year 57 B.C. Korean histories are fairly accurate. Whatever comes before that is largely traditional and therefore more or less apocryphal.

One of the greatest difficulties encountered is the selection of a system of romanisation which shall steer a middle course between the Scilla of extreme accuracy and the Charybdis of extreme simplicity. I have adopted the rule of spelling all proper names in a purely phonetic way without reference to the way they are spelled in native Korean. In this way alone can the reader arrive at anything like the actual pronunciation as found in Korea. The simple vowels have their continental sounds: a as in “father,” i as in “ravine,” o as in “rope” and u as in “rule.” The vowel e is used only with the grave accent and is pronounced as in the French “recit.” When a vowel has the short mark over it, it is to be given the flat sound: ă as in “fat,” ŏ as in “hot,” ŭ as in “nut.” The umlaut ö is used but it has a slightly more open sound than in German. It is the “unrounded o” where the vowel is pronounced without protruding the lips. The pure Korean sound represented by oé is a pure diphthong and is pronounced by letting the lips assume the position of pronouncing o while the tongue is thrown forward as if to pronounce the short e in “met.” Eu is nearly the French eu but with a slightly more open sound. As for consonants they have their usual sounds, but when the surds k, p or t in the body of a word are immediately preceded by an open syllable or a syllable ending with a sonant, they change to their corresponding sonants: k to g, p to b and t to d. For instance, in the word Pak-tu, the t of the tu would be d if the first syllable were open. No word begins with the sonants g, b or d.

ivIn Korean we have the long and short quantity in vowels. Han may be pronounced either simply han or longer haan, but the distinction is not of enough importance to compensate for encumbering the system with additional diacritical marks.

In writing proper names I have adopted the plan most in use by sinologues. The patronymic stands alone and is followed by the two given names with a hyphen between them. All geographical names have hyphens between the syllables. To run the name all together would often lead to serious difficulty, for who would know, for instance, whether Songak were pronounced Son-gak or Song-ak?

In the spelling of some of the names of places there will be found to be a slight inconsistency because part of the work was printed before the Korea Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society had determined upon a system of romanization, but in the main the system here used corresponds to that of the Society.

This is the first attempt, so far as I am aware, to give to the English reading public a history of Korea based on native records, and I trust that in spite of all errors and infelicities it may add something to the general fund of information about the people of Korea.

H.B.H.

Seoul, Korea, 1905

Introductory Note

Geography is the canvas on which history is painted. Topography means as much to the historian as to the general. A word, therefore, about the position of Korea will not be out of place.

The peninsula of Korea, containing approximately 80,000 square miles, lies between 33° and 43° north latitude, and between 124° 30′ and 130° 30′ east longitude. It is about nine hundred miles long from north to south and has an average width from east to west of about 240 miles. It is separated from Manchuria on the northwest by the Yalu or Am-nok River, and from Asiatic Russia on the northeast by the Tu-man River. Between the sources of these streams rise the lofty peaks of White Head Mountain, called by the Chinese Ever-white or Long-white Mountain. From this mountain whorl emanates a range which passes irregularly southward through the peninsula until it loses itself in the waters of the Yellow Sea, thus giving birth to the almost countless islands of the Korean archipelago. The main watershed of the country is near the eastern coast and consequently the streams that flow into the Japan Sea are neither long nor navigable, while on the western side and in the extreme south we find considerable streams that are navigable for small craft a hundred miles or more. While the eastern coast is almost entirely lacking in good harbors the western coast is one labyrinth of estuaries, bays and gulfs which furnish innumerable harbors. It is on the western watershed of the country that we will find vimost of the arable land and by far the greater portion of the population.

We see then that, geographically, Korea’s face is toward China and her back toward Japan. It may be that this in part has moulded her history. During all the centuries her face has been politically, socially and religiously toward China rather than toward Japan.

The climate of Korea is the same as that of eastern North America between the same latitudes, the only difference being that in Korea the month of July brings the “rainy season” which renders nearly all roads in the interior impassable. This rainy season, by cutting in two the warmer portion of the year, has had a powerful influence on the history of the country; for military operations were necessarily suspended during this period and combatants usually withdrew to their own respective territories upon its approach.

The interior of Korea is fairly well wooded, although there are no very extensive tracts of timber land. A species of pine largely predominates but there is also a large variety of other trees both deciduous and evergreen.

Rice is the staple article of food throughout most of the country. Among the mountain districts in the north where rice cannot be grown potatoes and millet are largely used. An enormous amount of pulse is raised, almost solely for fodder, and other grains are also grown. The bamboo grows sparsely and only in the south. Ginseng is an important product of the country.

The fauna of Korea includes several species of deer, the tiger, leopard, wild pig, bear, wolf, fox and a large number of fur bearing animals among which the sable and sea-otter are the most valuable. The entire peninsula is thoroughly stocked with cattle, horses, swine and donkeys, but sheep are practically unknown. The fisheries off the coast of Korea are especially valuable and thousands of the people earn a livelihood on the banks. Pearls of good quality are found. Game birds of almost infinite variety exist and all the commoner domestic birds abound.

As to the geology of the country we find that there is viia back bone of granite formation with frequent outcroppings of various other forms of mineral life. Gold is extremely abundant and there are few prefectures in the country where traces of it are not found. Silver is also common. Large deposits of coal both anthracite and bituminous have been discovered, but until recently little has been done to open up the minerals of the country in a scientific manner.

Ethnologically we may say that the people are of a mixed Mongolian and Malay origin, although this question has as yet hardly been touched upon. The language of Korea is plainly agglutinative and may, without hesitation, be placed in the great Turanian or Scythian group.

The population of Korea is variously estimated from ten to twenty millions. We shall not be far from the truth if we take a middle course and call the population thirteen millions. Somewhat more than half of the people live south of a line drawn east and west through the capital of the country.

PART I ANCIENT KOREA

Chapter I

Tan-gun.... his antecedents.... his origin.... he becomes king.... he teaches the people.... his capital.... he retires.... extent of his kingdom.... traditions.... monuments.

In the primeval ages, so the story runs, there was a divine being named Whan-in, or Che-Sŏ: “Creator.” His son, Whan-ung, being affected by celestial ennui, obtained permission to descend to earth and found a mundane kingdom. Armed with this warrant, Whan-ung with three thousand spirit companions descended upon Ta-băk Mountain, now known as Myo-hyang San, in the province of P’yŭng-an, Korea. It was in the twenty-fifth year of the Emperor Yao of China, which corresponds to 2332 B.C.

He gathered his spirit friends beneath the shade of an ancient pak-tal tree and there proclaimed himself King of the Universe. He governed through his three vice-regents, the “Wind General,” the “Rain Governor,” and the “Cloud Teacher,” but as he had not yet taken human shape, he found it difficult to assume control of a purely human kingdom. Searching for means of incarnation he found it in the following manner.

At early dawn, a tiger and a bear met upon a mountain side and held a colloquy.

“Would that we might become men” they said. Whan-ung overheard them and a voice came from out the void saying, “Here are twenty garlics and apiece of artemisia for each of you. Eat them and retire from the light of the sun for thrice seven days and you will become men.”

They ate and retired into the recesses of a cave, but the tiger, by reason of the fierceness of his nature, could not endure the restraint and came forth before the allotted time; but the bear, with greater faith and patience, waited the thrice seven days and then stepped forth, a perfect woman.

The first wish of her heart was maternity, and she cried, “Give me a son.” Whan-ung, the Spirit King, passing on the wind, beheld her sitting there beside the stream. He circled round her, breathed upon her, and her cry was answered. She cradled her babe in moss beneath that same pak-tal tree and it was there that in after years the wild people of the country found him sitting and made him their king.

This was the Tan-gun, “The Lord of the Pak-tal Tree.” He is also, but less widely, known as Wang-gŭm. At that time Korea and the territory immediately north was peopled by the “nine wild tribes” commonly called the Ku-i. Tradition names them respectively the Kyŭn, Pang, Whang, Făk, Chŭk, Hyŭn, P‘ung, Yang and U. These, we are told, were the aborigines, and were fond of drinking, dancing and singing. They dressed in a fabric of woven grass and their food was the natural fruits of the earth, such as nuts, roots, fruits and berries. In summer they lived beneath the trees and in winter they lived in a rudely covered hole in the ground. When the Tan-gun became their king he taught them the relation of king and subject, the rite of marriage, the art of cooking and the science of house building. He taught them to bind up the hair by tying a cloth about the head. He taught them to cut down trees and till fields.

The Tan-gun made P‘yŭng-yang the capital of his kingdom and there, tradition says, he reigned until the coming of Ki-ja, 1122 B.C. If any credence can be given this tradition it will be by supposing that the word Tan-gun refers to a line of native chieftains who may have antedated the coming of Ki-ja.

It is said that, upon the arrival of Ki-ja, the Tan-gun retired to Ku-wŭl San (in pure Korean A-sa-dal) in the present town of Mun-wha, Whang-hă Province, where he resumed his spirit form and disappeared forever from the earth. His wife was a woman of Pi-sŏ-ap, whose location is unknown. As to the size of the Tan-gun’s kingdom, it is generally believed that it extended from the vicinity of the present town of Mun-gyŭng on the south to the Heuk-yong River on the north, and from the Japan Sea on the east to Yo-ha (now Sŭng-gyŭng) on the west.

As to the events of the Tan-gun’s reign even tradition tells us very little. We learn that in 2265 B.C. the Tan-gun first offered sacrifice at Hyŭl-gu on the island of Kang-wha. For this purpose he built an altar on Mari San which remains to this day. We read that when the great Ha-u-si (The Great Yü), who drained off the waters which covered the interior of China, called to his court at To-san all the vassal kings, the Tan-gun sent his son, Pu-ru, as an envoy. This was supposed to be in 2187 B.C. Another work affirms that when Ki-ja came to Korea Pu-ru fled northward and founded the kingdom of North Pu-yŭ, which at a later date moved to Ka-yŭp-wŭn, and became Eastern Pu-yŭ. These stories show such enormous discrepancies in dates that they are alike incredible, and yet it may be that the latter story has some basis in fact, at any rate it gives us our only clue to the founding of the Kingdom of Pu-yŭ.

Late in the Tan-gun dynasty there was a minister named P‘ăng-o who is said to have had as his special charge the making of roads and the care of drainage. One authority says that the Emperor of China ordered P‘ăng-o to cut a road between Ye-măk, an eastern tribe, and Cho-sŭn. From this we see that the word Cho-sŭn, according to some authorities, antedates the coming of Ki-ja.

The remains of the Tan-gun dynasty, while not numerous, are interesting. On the island of Kang-wha, on the top of Mari San, is a stone platform or altar known as the “Tan-gun’s Altar,” and, as before said, it is popularly believed to have been used by the Tan-gun four thousand years ago. It is called also the Ch’am-sŭng Altar. On Chŭn-dung San is a fortress called Sam-nang which is believed to have been built by the Tan-gun’s three sons. The town of Ch’un-ch’ŭn, fifty miles east of Seoul, seems to have been an important place during this period. It was known as U-su-ju, or “Ox-hair Town,” and there is a curious confirmation of this tradition in the fact that in the vicinity there is today a plot of ground called the U-du-bol, or “Ox-head Plain.” A stone tablet to P’ang-o is erected there. At Mun-wha there is a shrine to the Korean trinity, Whan-in, Whan-ung and Tan-gun. Though the Tan-gun resumed the spirit form, his grave is shown in Kang-dong and is 410 feet in circumference.

Chapter II

Ki-ja.... striking character.... origin.... corrupt Chu.... story of Tal-geui.... Shang dynasty falls.... Ki-ja departs.... route.... destination.... allegience to China.... condition of Korea.... Ki-ja’s companions.... reforms.... evidences of genius.... arguments against Korean theory.... details of history meager.... Cho-sun sides against China.... delimitation of Cho-sun.... peace with Tsin dynasty.... Wi-man finds asylum.... betrays Cho-sun.... Ki-jun’s flight.

Without doubt the most striking character in Korean history is the sage Ki-ja, not only because of his connection with its early history but because of the striking contrast between him and his whole environment. The singular wisdom which he displayed is vouched for not in the euphemistic language of a prejudiced historian but by what we can read between the lines, of which the historian was unconscious.

The Shang, or Yin, dynasty of China began 1766 B.C. Its twenty-fifth representative was the Emperor Wu-yi whose second son, Li, was the father of Ki-ja. His family name was Cha and his surname Su-yu, but he is also known by the name Sö-yŭ. The word Ki-ja is a title meaning “Lord of Ki,” which we may imagine to be the feudal domain of the family. The Emperor Chu, the “Nero of China” and the last of the dynasty, was the grandson of Emperor T’ă-jŭng and a second cousin of Ki-ja, but the latter is usually spoken of as his uncle. Pi-gan, Mi-ja and Ki-ja formed the advisory board to this corrupt emperor.

All that Chinese histories have to say by way of censure against the hideous debaucheries of this emperor is repeated in the Korean histories; his infatuation with the beautiful concubine, Tal-geui; his compliance with her every whim; his making a pond of wine in which he placed an island of meat and compelled nude men and women to walk about it, his torture of innocent men at her request by tying them to heated brazen pillars. All this is told in the Korean annals, but they go still deeper into the dark problem of Tal-geui’s character and profess to solve it. The legend, as given by Korean tradition, is as follows.

The concubine Tal-geui was wonderfully beautiful, but surpassingly so when she smiled. At such times the person upon whom she smiled was fascinated as by a serpent and was forced to comply with whatever request she made. Pondering upon this, Pi-gan decided that she must be a fox in human shape, for it is well known that if an animal tastes of water that has lain for twenty years in a human skull it will acquire the power to assume the human shape at will. He set inquiries on foot and soon discovered that she made a monthly visit to a certain mountain which she always ascended alone leaving her train of attendants at the foot. Armed detectives were put on her track and, following her unperceived, they saw her enter a cave near the summit of the mountain. She presently emerged, accompanied by a pack of foxes who leaped about her and fawned upon her in evident delight. When she left, the spies entered and put the foxes to the sword, cutting from each dead body the piece of white fur which is always found on the breast of the fox. When Tal-geui met the emperor some days later and saw him dressed in a sumptuous white fur robe she shuddered but did not as yet guess the truth. A month later, however, it became plain to her when she entered the mountain cave and beheld the festering remains of her kindred.

On her way home she planned her revenge. Adorning herself in all her finery, she entered the imperial presence and exerted her power of fascination to the utmost. When the net had been well woven about the royal dupe, she said,

“I hear that there are seven orifices in the heart of every good man. I fain would put it to the test.”

“But how can it be done?”

“I would that I might see the heart of Pi-gan;” and as she said it she smiled upon her lord. His soul revolted from the act and yet he had no power to refuse. Pi-gan was summoned and the executioner stood ready with the knife, but at the moment when it was plunged into the victim’s breast he cried,

“You are no woman; you are a fox in disguise, and I charge you to resume your natural shape.”

Instantly her face began to change; hair sprang forth upon it, her nails grew long, and, bursting forth from her garments, she stood revealed in her true character—a white fox with nine tails. With one parting snarl at the assembled court, she leaped from the window and made good her escape.

But it was too late to save the dynasty. Pal, the son of Mun-wang, a feudal baron, at the head of an army, was already thundering at the gates, and in a few days, a new dynasty assumed the yellow and Pal, under the title Mu-wang, became its first emperor.

Pi-gan and Mi-ja had both perished and Ki-ja, the sole survivor of the great trio of statesmen, had saved his life only by feigning madness. He was now in prison, but Mu-wang came to his door and besought him to assume the office of Prime Minister. Loyalty to the fallen dynasty compelled him to refuse. He secured the Emperor’s consent to his plan of emigrating to Cho-sŭn or “Morning Freshness,” but before setting out he presented the Emperor with that great work, the Hong-bŭm or “Great-Law,” which had been found inscribed upon the back of the fabled tortoise which came up out of the waters of the Nak River in the days of Ha-u-si over a thousand years before, but which no one had been able to decipher till Ki-ja took it in hand. Then with his five thousand followers he passed eastward into the peninsula of Korea.

Whether he came to Korea by boat or by land cannot be certainly determined. It is improbable that he brought such a large company by water and yet one tradition says that he came first to Su-wŭn, which is somewhat south of Chemulpo. This would argue an approach by sea. The theory which has been broached that the Shantung promontory at one time joined the projection of Whang-hă Province on the Korean coast cannot be true, for the formation of the Yellow Sea must have been too far back in the past to help us to solve this question. It is said that from Su-wŭn he went northward to the island Ch’ŭl-do, off Whang-hă Province, where today they point out a “Ki-ja Well.” From there he went to P‘yŭng-yang. His going to an island off Whang-hă Province argues against the theory of the connection between Korea and the Shantung promontory.

In whatever way he came, he finally settled at the town of P‘yŭng-yang which had already been the capital of the Tan-gun dynasty. Seven cities claimed the honor of being Homer’s birth place and about as many claim to be the burial spot of Ki-ja. The various authorities differ so widely as to the boundaries of his kingdom, the site of his capital and the place of his interment that some doubt is cast even upon the existence of this remarkable man; but the consensus of opinion points clearly to P‘yŭng-yang as being the scene of his labors.

It should be noticed that from the very first Korea was an independent kingdom. It was certainly so in the days of the Tan-gun and it remained so when Ki-ja came, for it is distinctly stated that though the Emperor Mu-wang made him King of Cho-sŭn he neither demanded nor received his allegience as vassal at that time. He even allowed Ki-ja to send envoys to worship at the tombs of the fallen dynasty. It is said that Ki-ja himself visited the site of the ancient Shang capital, but when he found it sown with barley he wept and composed an elegy on the occasion, after which he went and swore allegience to the new Emperor. The work entitled Cho-sŏ says that when Ki-ja saw the site of the former capital sown with barley he mounted a white cart drawn by a white horse and went to the new capital and swore allegience to the Emperor; and it adds that in this he showed his weakness for he had sworn never to do so.

Ki-ja, we may believe, found Korea in a semi-barbarous condition. To this the reforms which he instituted give abundant evidence. He found at least a kingdom possessed of some degree of homogeneity, probably a uniform language and certainly ready communication between its parts. It is difficult to believe that the Tan-gun’s influence reached far beyond the Amnok River, wherever the nominal boundaries of his kingdom were. We are inclined to limit his actual power to the territory now included in the two provinces of P‘yŭng-an and Whang-hă.

We must now inquire of what material was Ki-ja’s company of five thousand men made up. We are told that he brought from China the two great works called the Si-jun and the So-jun, which by liberal interpretation mean the books on history and poetry. The books which bear these names were not written until centuries after Ki-ja’s time, but the Koreans mean by them the list of aphorisms or principles which later made up these books. It is probable, therefore, that this company included men who were able to teach and expound the principles thus introduced. Ki-ja also brought the sciences of manners (well named a science), music, medicine, sorcery and incantation. He brought also men capable of teaching one hundred of the useful trades, amongst which silk culture and weaving are the only two specifically named. When, therefore, we make allowance for a small military escort we find that five thousand men were few enough to undertake the carrying out of the greatest individual plan for colonization which history has ever seen brought to a successful issue.

These careful preparations on the part of the self-exiled Ki-ja admit of but one conclusion. They were made with direct reference to the people among whom he had elected to cast his lot. He was a genuine civilizer. His genius was of the highest order in that, in an age when the sword was the only arbiter, he hammered his into a pruning-hook and carved out with it a kingdom which stood almost a thousand years. He was the ideal colonizer, for he carried with him all the elements of successful colonization which, while sufficing for the reclamation of the semi-barbarous tribes of the peninsula, would still have left him self-sufficient in the event of their contumacy. His method was brilliant when compared with even the best attempts of modern times.

His penal code was short, and clearly indicated the failings of the people among whom he had cast his lot. Murder was to be punished with death inflicted in the same manner in which the crime had been committed. Brawling was punished by a fine to be paid in grain. Theft was punished by enslaving the offender, but he could regain his freedom by the payment of a heavy fine. There were five other laws which are not mentioned specifically. Many have surmised, and perhaps rightly, that they were of the nature of the o-hang or“five precepts” which inculcate right relations between king and subject, parent and child, husband and wife, friend and friend, old and young. It is stated, apocryphally however, that to prevent quarreling Ki-ja compelled all males to wear a broad-brimmed hat made of clay pasted on a framework. If this hat was either doffed or broken the offender was severely punished. This is said to have effectually kept them at arms length.

Another evidence of Ki-ja’s genius is his immediate recognition of the fact that he must govern the Korean people by means of men selected from their own number. For this purpose he picked out a large number of men from the various districts and gave them special training in the duties of government and he soon had a working corps of officials and prefects without resorting to the dangerous expedient of filling all these positions from the company that came with him. He recognised that in order to gain any lasting influence with the people of Korea he and his followers must adapt themselves to the language of their adopted country rather than make the Koreans conform to their form of speech. We are told that he reduced the language of the people to writing and through this medium taught the people the arts and sciences which he had brought. If this is true, the method by which the writing was done and the style of the characters have entirely disappeared. Nothing remains to give evidence of such a written language. We are told that it took three years to teach it to the people.

The important matter of revenue received early attention. A novel method was adopted. All arable land was divided into squares and each square was subdivided into nine equal parts; eight squares about a central one. Whoever cultivated the eight surrounding squares must also cultivate the central one for the benefit of the government. The latter therefore received a ninth part of the produce of the land. Prosperity was seen on every side and the people called the Ta-dong River the Yellow River of Korea.

As a sign that his kingdom was founded in peace and as a constant reminder to his people he planted a long line of willows along the bank of the river opposite the city, so P‘yung-yang is sometimes called The Willow Capital.

It is contended by not a few that Ki-ja never came to Korea at all and they base their belief upon the following facts. When the Han Emperor Mu-je overcame northern Korea and divided it into four parts he called the people savages, which could not be if Ki-ja civilized them. The Chinese histories of the Tang dynasty affirm that Ki-ja’s kingdom was in Liao-tung. The histories of the Kin dynasty and the Yuan or Mongol dynasty say that Ki-ja had his capital at Kwang-nyŭng in Liao-tung, and there is a Ki-ja well there today and a shrine to him. There was a picture of him there but it was burned in the days of Emperor Se-jong of the Ming dynasty. A Korean work entitled Sok-mun Heun-t’ong-go says that Ki-ja’s capital was at Ham-pyŭng-no in Liao-tung. The Chinese work Il-t’ong-ji of the time of the Ming dynasty says that the scholars of Liao-tung compiled a work called Söng-gyŭng-ji which treated of this question. That book said that Cho-sŭn included Sim-yang (Muk-den), Pong-ch’ŭn-bu, Eui-ju and Kwang-nyŭng; so that half of Liao-tung belonged to Cho-sun. The work entitled Kang-mok says that his capital was at P’yŭng-yang and that the kingdom gradually broadened until the scholar O Si-un said of it that it stretched from the Liao River to the Han. This last is the commonly accepted theory and so far as Korean evidence goes there seems to be little room for doubt.

Ki-ja was fifty-three years old when he came to Korea and he reigned here forty years. His grave may be seen to-day at To-san near the city which was the scene of his labors. Some other places that claim the honor of containing Ki-ja’s tomb are Mong-hyŭn, Pak-sung and Sang-gu-hyun in northern China.

It was not till thirty-six generations later that Ki-ja received the posthumous title of T’ă-jo Mun-sŭng Tă-wang.

The details of the history of K-ja’s dynasty are very meager and can be given here only in the most condensed form.[A]

A. The following details of the Ki-ja dynasty are taken from a work recently compiled in P’yung-yang and claiming to be based on private family records of the descendants of Ki-ja. It is difficult to say whether any reliance can be placed upon it but as it is the only source of information obtainable it seems best to give it. The dates are of course all B.C.

In 1083 Ki-ja died and was succeeded by his son Song. Of his reign of twenty-five years we know little beyond the fact that he built an Ancestral Temple. His successor, Sun, was a man of such filial piety that when his father died he went mad. The next king, Iăk, adopted for his officials the court garments of the Sang Kingdom in China. His son, Ch’un, who ascended the throne in 997 raised fifty-nine regiments of soldiers containing in all 7300 men. The flag of the army was blue. In 943 the reigning king, Cho, feeling the need of cavalry, appointed a special commission to attend to the breeding of horses, and with such success that in a few years horses were abundant. In 890 King Săk hung a drum in the palace gate and ordained that anyone having a grievance might strike the drum and obtain an audience. In 843 a law was promulgated by which the government undertook to support the hopelessly destitute. In 773 King Wŭl forbade the practice of sorcery and incantation. In 748 naval matters received attention and a number of war vessels were launched. The first day of the fifth moon of 722 is memorable as marking the first solar eclipse that is recorded in Korean history. A great famine occurred in 710. King Kwŭl selected a number of men who could speak Chinese and who knew Chinese customs. These he dressed in Chinese clothes which were white and sent them across the Yellow Sea with a large fleet of boats loaded with fish, salt and copper. With these they purchased rice for the starving Koreans. At this time all official salaries were reduced one half. In 702 King Whe ordered the making of fifteen kinds of musical instruments. He also executed a sorceress of An-ju who claimed to be the daughter of the Sea King and deceived many of the people. In 670 King Cho sent an envoy and made friends with the King of Che in China. He also revised the penal code and made the theft of a hundred million cash from the government or of a hundred and fifty millions from the people a capital crime. He ordered the construction of a building of 500 kan for an asylum for widows, orphans and aged people who were childless. In 664 one of the wild tribes of the north sent their chief, Kil-i-do-du, to swear allegiance to Cho-sŭn. In 659 there came to Korea from the Chu Kingdom in China a man by the name of Pak Il-jŭng, who brought with him a medicine called myun-dan-bang which he claimed was the elixir of youth. By his arts he succeeded in gaining the ear of the king and for many years was virtually ruler of the country. At last a king came to the throne who had the wisdom and nerve to order his execution. At this the whole land rejoiced. Banished men were recalled and prisoners were liberated. In 593 King Ch’am came to the throne at the age of five. His uncle acted as regent. But a powerful courtier Kong Son-gang secured the regent’s assassination and himself became virtual ruler. He imprisoned the king in a small pavilion and tried to make him abdicate, but in this was unsuccessful and himself met the assassin’s steel. In 560 the Ha tribe, inhabiting the northern Japanese island of I-so, sent their chief, Wha-ma-gyŭn-hu-ri, to swear allegiance to Cho-sŭn. In 505 the wild tribes to the north became restive and King Yŭ gathered 3000 troops and invaded their territory, taking 1000 heads and adding a wide strip of country to his realm. He put teachers in each of the magistracies to teach the people agriculture and sericulture. In 426, during the reign of King Cheung, occurred a formidable rebellion. U Yi-ch’ung of T’ă-an (now Cha-san) arose and said “I am the Heaven Shaker.” With a powerful force he approached the capital and besieged it. The king was forced to flee by boat and take refuge at Hyŭl-gu (probably an island). But not long after this the loyal troops rallied about the king and the rebel was chased across the northern border. In 403 the king of Yŭn sent an envoy to Korea with greetings. This Yŭn kingdom had its capital at Chik-ye-sŭng where Peking now stands, and its territory was contiguous to Cho-sŭn on the west. But in spite of these friendly greetings the king of Yŭn sent an army in 380 and seized a district in western Cho-sun. They were soon driven back. Fifteen years later a Yŭn general, Chin-ga, came with 20,000 troops and delimited the western border of Cho-sŭn but the Cho-sŭn general Wi Mun-ŭn gathered 30,000 men and lying in ambush among the reeds beside the O-do River surprised the enemy and put them to flight. In 346 a wild chieftain of the north came and asked aid against Yŭn. It was granted to the extent of 10,000 troops. These with 1000 cavalry of the wild tribe attacked and took the border fortress of Sang-gok. Soon after, Yun sued for peace and it was granted.

This ends the apocryphal account of the Ki-ja dynasty. Its contents are circumstantial enough to seem plausible yet we cannot but doubt the authenticity of any records which pretend to go back to such a remote period.

The Chou dynasty in China had long been on the decline and now, in 305 B.C. had reached a point of extreme weakness. In view of this the governor of the tributary state of Liao-tung who had always passed under the title of Hu or “Marquis” dared to assume the title Wang or “King” and so to defy the power of China. Cho-sŭn threw herself into the balance in favor of her great patron and hastened to attack Liao-tung in the rear. But before this course had become inevitable a warning voice was raised and one of the councillors, Ye, who was gifted with more knowledge of the signs of the times than his fellows pointed out the inevitable overthrow of the Chou dynasty, and he advised that Cho-sŭn make her peace with the new “King” of the Yŏn kingdom of Liao-tung, rather than brave his anger by siding against him. The advice was followed and Cho-sŭn threw off the light reins of allegiance to China and ranged herself alongside the new kingdom. This we learn from the annals of the Wei dynasty of China. But apparently Cho-sŭn, stretching as it did to and beyond the Liao River, was too tempting a morsel for the ambitious king of Yŭn to leave untasted. So he picked a quarrel with the king of Cho-sŭn and delimited his territory as far as the Yalu River, a stretch of 2,000 li, even to the town of Pan-han whose identity is now lost. He followed up this success by overcoming the wild tribes to the north and added 1,000 li more to his domains, securing it from attack, as he supposed, by building a wall from Cho-yang to Yang-p’yŭng.

When Emperor Shih of the Tsin dynasty ascended the throne of China in 221 B.C. and soon after began that tremendous work the Great Wall of China, the fortieth descendant of Ki-ja was swaying the scepter of Cho-sŭn under the name Ki-bi, posthumous title Chong-t’ong Wang. As soon as the news of this great undertaking reached the ears of this monarch he hauled down his colors and surrendered at discretion, sending an envoy to do obeisance for him.

King Ki-bi died and his son Ki-jun, the last of the dynasty reigned in his stead. For some years all was quiet, but at last the scepter was wrested from the hands of the short-lived Tsin dynasty by the founder of the illustrious Han, and across the border from Cho-sŭn all was turmoil and confusion. Fugitives from the three states of Yun, Che and Cho were seeking asylum anywhere, and thousands were hurrying across the Yalu and craving the protection of Ki-jun. The only protection he could give them from the victorious Han was remoteness from the latter’s base of operations; so he allowed them to settle along the valley of the Yalu and its southern tributaries. This was in the twentieth year of his reign, 200 B.C.

Unfortunately for Cho-sŭn, the Han emperor made No-gwan, one of his generals, governor of Yŭn. This gentleman had ideas of his own, and finding such good material for an army among the half-wild people of his province he decided to go on an empire hunt on his own account.

The story of his desperate fight and final defeat at the hands of the Han forces, of his flight northward to the wild tribe of Hyung-no, is interesting; but we must turn from it to follow the fortunes of one of his lieutenants, a native of the Yŭn, named Wi-man. Retreating eastward alone and in disguise, according to some writers, or according to others with an escort of 1,000 men, he eluded his pursuers and at last crossed the P’ă-su (the Yalu of today) and was received with open arms by his own kin who had already settled there. In the days of the Han dynasty the word P’ă-su meant the Yalu River, but in the days of the Tang dynasty it meant the Ta-dong. Hence much confusion has arisen.

Wi-man threw himself upon the protection of Ki-jun who, little knowing the nature of the man he was harboring, good-naturedly consented and accompanied his welcome with the substantial gift of a hundred li square of land in the north. Wi-man, on his part, engaged to act as border guard and give timely warning of the approach of an enemy. He was already on good terms with the people of the Chin-bŭn tribe, and now he began to cultivate their friendship more assiduously than ever. In a short time he found himself at the head of a considerable following composed partly of Yŭn refugees and partly of Chin-bŭn adventurers.

Being thus prepared and weighing all the chances, he concluded to stake his whole fortune on a single throw. Sending a swift messenger to the court of Ki-jun at P‘yŭng-yang, he informed that peace loving monarch that an innumerable army was advancing from China in four divisions and would soon be at the doors of Cho-sŭn, and that he, Wi-man, must hasten to the capital with all his force to act as body-guard of the King. The ruse was successful and before Ki-jun and his court had awakened to the situation Wi-man was on them. An attempt was made to stop his advance when quite too late, but it held the traitor in check long enough for Ki-jun and his immediate court to load their treasure on boats; and as the triumphal army of Wi-man entered the gates of P‘yŭng-yang the last representative of the dynasty of Ki-ja slipped quietly down the river, seeking for himself a more congenial home in the south. This occurred, so far as we can judge from conflicting documents, in the year 193 B.C.

This was an event of utmost importance in the history of the peninsula. It opened up to the world the southern portion of Korea, where there were stored up forces that were destined to dominate the whole peninsula and impress upon it a distinctive stamp. But before following Ki-jun southward we must turn back and watch the outcome of Wi-man’s treachery.

Chapter III

Wi-man.... establishes his kingdom.... extent.... power soon waned.... ambitious designs.... China aroused.... invasion of Korea.... U-gu tries to make peace.... siege of P‘yŭng-yang.... it falls.... the land redistributed.... the four provinces.... the two provinces.

Having secured possession of Ki-jun’s kingdom, Wi-man set to work to establish himself firmly on the throne. He had had some experience in dealing with the wild tribes and now he exerted himself to the utmost in the task of securing the allegiance of as many of them as possible. He was literally surrounded by them, and this policy of friendliness was an 16absolute necessity. He succeeded so well that ere long he had won over almost all the adjacent tribes whose chieftains frequented his court and were there treated with such liberality that more than once they found themselves accompanying embassies to the court of China.

It is said that when his kingdom was at its height it extended far into Liao-tung over all northern and eastern Korea and even across the Yellow Sea where it included Ch’ŭng-ju, China. Its southern boundary was the Han River.

So long as Wi-man lived he held the kingdom together with a strong hand, for he was possessed of that peculiar kind of power which enabled him to retain the respect and esteem of the surrounding tribes. He knew when to check them and when to loosen the reins. But he did not bequeath this power to his descendants. His grandson, U-gŭ, inherited all his ambition without any of his tact. He did not realise that it was the strong hand and quick wit of his grandfather that had held the kingdom together and he soon began to plan a still further independence from China. He collected about him all the refugees and all the malcontents, most of whom had much to gain and little to lose in any event. He then cut off all friendly intercourse with the Han court and also prevented the surrounding tribes from sending their little embassies across the border. The Emperor could not brook this insult, and sent an envoy, Sŭp-ha, to expostulate with the headstrong U-gŭ; but as the latter would not listen, the envoy went back across the Yalu and tried what he could do by sending one of the older chiefs to ask what the king meant by his conduct. U-gŭ was still stubborn and when the chief returned to Sŭp-ha empty-handed he was put to death. Sŭp-ha paid the penalty for this rash act, for not many days after he had been installed governor of Liao-tung the tribe he had injured fell upon him and killed him.

This was not done at the instigation of U-gŭ, but unfortunately it was all one to the Emperor. It was the “Eastern Barbarians” who, all alike, merited punishment. It was in 107 B.C. that the imperial edict went forth commanding all Chinese refugees in Korea to return at once, as U-gŭ was to be put down by the stern hand of war.

17In the autumn of that year the two generals, Yang-bok and Sun-ch’i, invaded Korea at the head of a strong force; but U-gŭ was ready for them and in the first engagement scattered the invading army, the remnants of which took refuge among the mountains. It was ten days before they rallied enough to make even a good retreat. U-gŭ was frightened by his own good luck for he knew that this would still further anger the Emperor; so when an envoy came from China the king humbled himself, confessed his sins and sent his son to China as hostage together with a gift of 5,000 horses. Ten thousand troops accompanied him. As these troops were armed, the Chinese envoy feared there might be trouble after the Yalu had been crossed. He therefore asked the Prince to have them disarmed. The latter thought he detected treachery and so fled at night and did not stop until he reached his father’s palace in P‘yŭng-yang. The envoy paid for this piece of gaucherie with his head.

Meanwhile Generals Yang-bok and Sun-ch’i had been scouring Liao-tung and had collected a larger army than before. With this they crossed the Ya-lu and marched on P‘yŭng-yang. They met with no resistance, for U-gŭ had collected all his forces at the capital, hoping perhaps that the severity of the weather would tire out any force that might be sent against him. The siege continued two months during which time the two generals quarreled incessantly. When the Emperor sent Gen. Kong Son-su to see what was the matter, Gen. Sun-ch’i accused his colleague of treason and had him sent back to China, where he lost his head. The siege, continued by Gen. Sun-ch’i, dragged on till the following summer and it would have continued longer had not a traitor within the town assassinated the king and fled to the Chinese camp. Still the people refused to make terms until another traitor opened the gates to the enemy. Gen. Sun-ch’i’s first act was to compel Prince Chang, the heir apparent, to do obeisance. But the people had their revenge upon the traitor who opened the gate for they fell upon him and tore him to pieces before he could make good his escape to the Chinese camp.

Such was the miserable end of Wi-man’s treachery. He had cheated Ki-jun out of his kingdom which had lasted almost 18a thousand years, while the one founded by himself lasted only eighty-eight. It fell in the thirty-fourth year of the Han Emperor Wu-ti, in the year 106 B.C.

Upon the downfall of Wi-man’s kingdom, the country was divided by the Chinese into four provinces called respectively Nang-nang, Im-dun, Hyŭn-do and Chin-bŭn. The first of these, Nang-nang, is supposed to have covered that portion of Korea now included in the three provinces of P‘yung-an, Whang-hă and Kyŭng-geui. Im-dun, so far as we can learn, was located about as the present province of Kang-wŭn, but it may have exceeded these limits. Hyŭn-do was about coterminous with the present province of Ham-gyŭng in the northeast. Chin-bŭn lay beyond the Yalu River but its limits can hardly be guessed at. It may have stretched to the Liao River or beyond. It is exceedingly doubtful whether the conquerors themselves had any definite idea of the shape or extent of these four provinces. Twenty-five years later, in the fifth year of Emperor Chao-ti 81 B.C. a change in administration was made. Chin-bŭn and Hyŭn-do were united to form a new province called P’yung-ju, while Im-dun and Nang-nang were thrown together to form Tong-bu. In this form the country remained until the founding of Ko-gu-ryŭ in the twelfth year of Emperor Yuan-ti, 36 B.C.

It is here a fitting place to pause and ask what was the nature of these wild tribes that hung upon the flanks of civilization and, like the North American Indians, were friendly one day and on the war-path the next. Very little can be gleaned from purely Korean sources, but a Chinese work entitled the Mun-hön T’ong-go deals with them in some detail, and while there is much that is quite fantastic and absurd the main points tally so well with the little that Korean records say, that in their essential features they are probably as nearly correct as anything we are likely to find in regard to these aborigines (shall we say) of north-eastern Asia.

Chapter IV

The wild tribes.... the “Nine Tribes” apocryphal.... Ye-mak.... position.... history.... customs.... Ye and Mak perhaps two.... Ok-jo 19.... position.... history.... customs.... North Ok-jo.... Eum-nu.... position.... customs.... the western tribes.... the Mal-gal group.... position.... customs.... other border tribes.

As we have already seen, tradition gives us nine original wild tribes in the north named respectively the Kyŭn, Pang, Whang, Păk, Chŭk, Hyŭn, P’ung, Yang, and U. These we are told occupied the peninsula in the very earliest times. But little credence can be placed in this enumeration, for when it comes to the narration of events we find that these tribes are largely ignored and numerous other names are introduced. The tradition is that they lived in Yang-gok, “The Place of the Rising Sun.” In the days of Emperor T’ai-k’an of the Hsia dynasty, 2188 B.C. the wild tribes of the east revolted. In the days of Emperor Wu-wang, 1122 B.C. it is said that representatives from several of the wild tribes came to China bringing rude musical instruments and performing their queer dances. The Whe-i was another of the tribes, for we are told that the brothers of Emperor Wu-wang fled thither but were pursued and killed. Another tribe, the So-i, proclaimed their independence of China but were utterly destroyed by this same monarch.

It is probable that all these tribes occupied the territory north of the Yalu River and the Ever-white Mountains. Certain it is that these names never occur in the pages of Korean history proper. Doubtless there was more or less intermixture and it is more than possible that their blood runs in the veins of Koreans today, but of this we cannot be certain.

We must call attention to one more purely Chinese notice of early Korea because it contains perhaps the earliest mention of the word Cho-sŭn. It is said that in Cho-sŭn three rivers, the Chŭn-su, Yŭl-su, and San-su, unite to form the Yŭl-su, which flows by (or through) Nang-nang. This corresponds somewhat with the description of the Yalu River.

We now come to the wild tribes actually resident in the peninsula and whose existence can hardly be questioned, whatever may be said about the details here given.

We begin with the tribe called Ye-măk, about which there are full notices both in Chinese and Korean records. The Chinese accounts deal with it as a single tribe but the Korean accounts, which are more exact, tell us that Ye and 20Mak were two separate “kingdoms.” In all probability they were of the same stock but separate in government.

Ye-guk (guk meaning kingdom) is called by some Ye-wi-guk. It is also know as Ch’ŭl. It was situated directly north of the kingdom of Sil-la, which was practically the present province of Kyŭng-sang, so its boundary must have been the same as that of the present Kang-wŭn Province. On the north was Ok-jŭ, on the east the Great Sea, and on the west Nang-nang. We may say then that Ye-guk comprised the greater portion of what is now Kang-wŭn Province. To this day the ruins of its capital may be seen to the east of the town of Kang-neung. In the palmy days of Ye-guk its capital was called Tong-i and later, when overcome by Sil-la, a royal seal was unearthed there and Hă-wang the king of Sil-la adopted it as his royal seal. After this town was incorporated into Sil-la it was known as Myŭng-ju.

In the days of the Emperor Mu-je, 140 B.C., the king of Ye-guk was Nam-nyŭ. He revolted from Wi-man’s rule and, taking a great number of his people, estimated, fantastically of course, at 380,000, removed to Liao-tung, where the Emperor gave him a site for a settlement at Chang-hă-gun. Some accounts say that this colony lasted three years. Others say that after two years it revolted and was destroyed by the Emperor. There are indications that the remnant joined the kingdom of Pu-yŭ in the north-east for, according to one writer, the seal of Pu-yŭ contained the words “Seal of the King of Ye” and it was reported that the aged men of Pu-yŭ used to say that in the days of the Han dynasty they were fugitives. There was also in Pu-yŭ a fortress called the “Ye Fortress.” From this some argue that Nam-nyŭ was not a man of the east but of the north. Indeed it is difficult to see how he could have taken so many people so far especially across an enemy’s country.

When the Chinese took the whole northern part of Korea, the Ye country was incorporated into the province of Im-dun and in the time of the Emperor Kwang-mu the governor of the province resided at Kang-neung. The Emperor received an annual tribute of grass-cloth, fruit and horses.

The people of Ye-guk were simple and credulous, and not naturally inclined to warlike pursuits. They were modest 21and unassuming, nor were they fond of jewels or finery. Their peaceful disposition made them an easy prey to their neighbors who frequently harassed them. In later times both Ko-gu-ryŭ and Sil-la used Ye-guk soldiers in part in effecting their conquests. People of the same family name did not intermarry. If a person died of disease his house was deserted and the family found a new place of abode. We infer from this that their houses were of a very poor quality and easily built; probably little more than a rude thatch covering a slight excavation in a hill-side. The use of hemp was known as was also that of silk, though this was probably at a much later date. Cotton was also grown and woven. By observing the stars they believed they could foretell a famine; from which we infer that they were mainly an agricultural people. In the tenth moon they worshipped the heavens, during which ceremony they drank, sang and danced. They also worshipped the “Tiger Spirit.” Robbery was punished by fining the offender a horse or a cow. In fighting they used spears as long as three men and not infrequently several men wielded the same spear together. They fought entirely on foot. The celebrated Nang-nang bows were in reality of Ye-guk make and were cut out of pak-tal wood. The country was infested with leopards. The horses were so small that mounted men could ride under the branches of the fruit trees without difficulty. They sold colored fish skins to the Chinese, the fish being taken from the eastern sea.

We are confronted by the singular statement that at the time of the Wei dynasty in China, 220-294 A.D. Ye-guk swore allegiance to China and despatched an envoy four times a year. There was no Ye-mak in Korea at that time and this must refer to some other Ye tribe in the north. It is said they purchased exemption from military duty by paying a stipulated annual sum. This is manifestly said of some tribe more contiguous to China than the one we are here discussing.

Măk-guk, the other half of Ye-măk, had its seat of government near the site of the present town of Ch’un-ch’ŭn. Later, in the time of the Sil-la supremacy, it was known as U-su-ju. It was called Ch’ŭn-ju in the time of the Ko-ryŭ rule.

The ancient Chinese work, Su-jun, says that in the days 22of Emperor Mu-song (antedating Ki-ja) the people of Wha-ha Man-măk came and did obeisance to China. This may have been the Korean Măk. Mencius also makes mention of a greater Măk and a lesser Măk. In the time of the Han dynasty they spoke of Cho-sün, Chin-bŭn and Ye-măk. Mencius’ notice of a greater and lesser Măk is looked upon by some as an insult to the memory of Ki-ja, as if he had called Ki-ja’s kingdom a wild country; but the above mention of the three separately is quoted to show that Mencius had no such thought.

The annals of Emperor Mu-je state, in a commentary, that Măk was north of Chin-han and south of Ko-gu-ryŭ and Ok-jŭ and had the sea to the east, a description which exactly suits Ye-măk as we know it.

The wild tribe called Ok-jŭ occupied the territory east of Kă-ma San and lay along the eastern sea-coast. It was narrow and long, stretching a thousand li along the coast in the form of a hook. This well describes the contour of the coast from a point somewhat south of the present Wŭn-san northward along the shore of Ham-gyŭng Province. On its south was Ye-măk and on its north were the wild Eum-nu and Pu-yŭ tribes. It consisted of five thousand houses grouped in separate communities that were quite distinct from each other politically, and a sort of patriarchal government prevailed. The language was much like that of the people of Ko-gu-ryŭ.

When Wi-man took Ki-jun’s kingdom, the Ok-jŭ people became subject to him, but later, when the Chinese made the four provinces, Ok-jŭ was incorporated into Hyŭn-do. As Ok-jŭ was the most remote of all the wild tribes from the Chinese capital, a special governor was appointed over her, called a Tong-bu To-wi, and his seat of government was at Pul-lă fortress. The district was divided into seven parts, all of which were east of Tan-dan Pass, perhaps the Tă-gwul Pass of to-day. In the sixth year of the Emperor Kwang-mu, 31 A.D., it is said that the governorship was discontinued and native magnates were put at the head of affairs in each of the seven districts under the title Hu or Marquis. Three of the seven districts were Wha-ye, Ok-jŭ and Pul-lă. It is said that the people of Ye-guk were called in to build the government houses in these seven centers.

23When Ko-gu-ryŭ took over all northern Korea, she placed a single governor over all this territory with the title Tă-in. Tribute was rendered in the form of grass-cloth, fish, salt and other sea products. Handsome women were also requisitioned. The land was fertile. It had a range of mountains at its back and the sea in front. Cereals grew abundantly. The people are described as being very vindictive. Spears were the weapons mostly used in fighting. Horses and cattle were scarce. The style of dress was the same as that of Ko-gu-ryŭ.

When a girl reached the age of ten she was taken to the home of her future husband and brought up there. Having attained a marriageable age she returned home and her fiancé then obtained her by paying the stipulated price.

Dead bodies were buried in a shallow grave and when only the bones remained they were exhumed and thrust into a huge hollowed tree trunk which formed the family “vault.” Many generations were thus buried in a single tree trunk. The opening was at the end of the trunk. A wooden image of the dead was carved and set beside this coffin and with it a bowl of grain.

The northern part of Ok-jŭ was called Puk Ok-jŭ or “North Ok-jŭ.” The customs of these people were the same as those of the south except for some differences caused by the proximity of the Eum-nu tribe to the north, who were the Apaches of Korea. Every year these fierce people made a descent upon the villages of the peaceful Ok-jŭ, sweeping everything before them. So regular were these incursions that the Ok-jŭ people used to migrate to the mountains every summer, where they lived in caves as best they could, returning to their homes in the late autumn. The cold of winter held their enemies in check.

We are told that a Chinese envoy once penetrated these remote regions. He asked “Are there any people living beyond this sea?” (meaning the Japan Sea.) They replied “Sometimes when we go out to fish and a tempest strikes us we are driven ten days toward the east until we reach islands where men live whose language is strange and whose custom it is each summer to drown a young girl in the sea.” Another said “Once some clothes floated here which were like ours except that the sleeves were as long as the height of a man.” 24Another said “A boat once drifted here containing a man with a double face, one above the other. We could not understand his speech and as he refused to eat he soon expired.”

The tribe of Ok-jŭ was finally absorbed in Ko-gu-ryŭ in the fourth year of King T’ă-jo Wang.

The Eum-nu tribe did not belong to Korea proper but as its territory was adjacent to Korea a word may not be out of place. It was originally called Suk-sin. It was north of Ok-jŭ and stretched from the Tu-man river away north to the vicinity of the Amur. Its most famous mountain was Pul-ham San, It is said to have been a thousand li to the north-east of Pu-yŭ. The country was mountainous and there were no cart roads. The various cereals were grown, as well as hemp.

The native account of the people of Eum-nu is quite droll and can hardly be accepted as credible. It tells us that the people lived in the trees in summer and in holes in the ground in winter. The higher a man’s rank the deeper he was allowed to dig. The deepest holes were “nine rafters deep.” Pigs were much in evidence. The flesh was eaten and the skins were worn. In winter the people smeared themselves an inch thick with grease. In summer they wore only a breach-cloth. They were extremely filthy. In the center of each of these winter excavations was a common cesspool about which everything else was clustered. The extraordinary statement is made that these people picked up pieces of meat with their toes and ate them. They sat on frozen meat to thaw it out. There was no king, but a sort of hereditary chieftainship prevailed. If a man desired to marry he placed a feather in the hair of the damsel of his choice and if she accepted him she simply followed him home. Women did not marry twice, but before marriage the extreme of latitude was allowed. Young men were more respected than old men. They buried their dead, placing a number of slaughtered pigs beside the dead that he might have something to eat in the land beyond the grave. The people were fierce and cruel, and even though a parent died they did not weep. Death was the penalty for small as well as great offences. They had no form of writing and treaties were made only by word of mouth. In the days of Emperor Yüan-ti of the Eastern Tsin dynasty, an envoy from this tribe was seen in the Capital of China.

25We have described the tribes of eastern Korea. A word now about the western part of the peninsula. All that portion of Korea lying between the Han and Yalu rivers constituted what was known as Nang-nang and included the present provinces of P‘yŭng-an and Whang-hă together with a portion of Kyŭng-geui. It was originally the name of a single tribe whose position will probably never be exactly known; but it was of such importance that when China divided northern Korea into four provinces she gave this name of Nang-nang to all that portion lying, as we have said, between the Han and the Yalu. The only accounts of these people are given under the head of the Kingdom of Ko-gu-ryŭ which we shall consider later. But between Nang-nang and the extreme eastern tribes of Ok-jŭ there was a large tract of country including the eastern part of the present province of P’yŭng-an and the western part of Ham-gyŭng. This was called Hyŭn-do, and the Chinese gave this name to the whole north-eastern part of Korea. No separate accounts of Hyŭn-do seem to be now available.

Before passing to the account of the founding of the three great kingdoms of Sil-la, Păk-je and Ko-gu-ryŭ, we must give a passing glance at one or two of the great border tribes of the north-west. They were not Koreans but exercised such influence upon the life of Korea that they deserve passing notice.

In that vast tract of territory now known as Manchuria there existed, at the time of Christ, a group of wild tribes known under the common name Mal-gal. The group was composed of seven separate tribes, named respectively—Songmal, Păk-tol, An-gŭ-gol, Pul-lal, Ho-sil, Heuk-su (known also as the Mul-gil) and the Păk-san. Between these tribes there was probably some strong affinity, although this is argued only from the generic name Mal-gal which was usually appended to their separate names, and the fact that Mal-gal is commonly spoken of as one. The location of this group of tribes is determined by the statement (1) that it was north of Ko-gu-ryŭ and (2) that to the east of it was a tribe anciently called the Suk-sin (the same as the Eum-nu,) and (3) that it was five thousand li from Nak-yang the capital of China. We are also told that in it was the great river Sog-mal which was three li wide referring it would seem to the Amur River. These tribes, though 26members of one family, were constantly fighting each other and their neighbors and the ancient records say that of all the wild tribes of the east the Mal-gal were the most feared by their neighbors. But of all the Mal-gal tribes the Heuk-su were the fiercest and most warlike. They lived by hunting and fishing. The title of their chiefs was Tă-mak-pul-man-lol-guk. The people honored their chiefs and stood in great fear of them. It is said that they would not attend to the duties of nature on a mountain, considering, it would seem, that there is something sacred about a mountain. They lived in excavations in the sides of earth banks, covering them with a rough thatch. The entrance was from above. Horses were used but there were no other domestic animals except pigs. Their rude carts were pushed by men and their plows were dragged by the same. They raised a little millet and barley, and cultivated nine kinds of vegetables. The water there, was brackish owing to the presence of a certain kind of tree the bark of whose roots tinged the water like an infusion. They made wine by chewing grain and then allowing it to ferment. This was very intoxicating. For the marriage ceremony the bride wore a hempen skirt and the groom a pig skin with a tiger skin over his head. Both bride and groom washed the face and hands in urine. They were the filthiest of all the wild tribes. They were expert archers, their bows being made of horn, and the arrows were twenty-three inches long. In summer a poison was prepared in which the arrow heads were dipped. A wound from one of these was almost instantly fatal. The almost incredible statement is made in the native accounts that the dead bodies of this people were not interred but were used in baiting traps for wild animals.

Besides the Mal-gal tribes there were two others of considerable note, namely the Pal-hă and the Kŭ-ran of which special mention is not here necessary, though their names will appear occasionally in the following pages. They lived somewhere along the northern borders of Korea, within striking distance. The last border tribe that we shall mention is the Yŭ-jin whose history is closely interwoven with that of Ko-gu-ryŭ. They were the direct descendants, or at least close relatives, of the Eum-nu people. They were said to have been the very lowest and weakest of all the wild tribes, in fact 27a mongrel tribe, made up of the offscourings of all the others. They are briefly described by the statement that if they took up a handful of water it instantly turned black. They were good archers and were skilful at mimicing the deer for the purpose of decoying it. They ate deer flesh raw. A favorite form of amusement was to make tame deer intoxicated with wine and watch their antics. Pigs, cattle and donkeys abounded. They used cattle for burden and the hides served for covering. The houses were roofed with bark. Fine horses were raised by them. It was in this tribe that the great conquerer of China, A-gol-t’a, arose, who paved the way for the founding of the great Kin dynasty a thousand years or more after the beginning of our era.

Chapter VI

The founding of Sil-la, Ko-gu-ryu, and Pak-je.... Sil-la.... legend.... growth.... Tsushima a vassal.... credibility of accounts.... Japanese relations.... early vicissitudes.... Ko-gu-ryu.... four Pu-yus.... legend.... location of Pu-yu.... Chu-mong founds Ko-gu-ryu.... growth and extent.... products.... customs.... religious rites.... official grades.... punishments.... growth eastward.... Pak-je.... relations between Sil-la and Pak-je.... tradition of founding of Pak-je.... opposition of wide tribes.... the capital moved.... situation of the peninsula at the time of Christ.

In the year 57 B.C. the chiefs of the six great Chin-han states, Yŭn-jun-yang-san, Tol-san-go-hö, Cha-sa-jin-ji, Mu-san-dă-su, Keum san-ga-ri and Myŭng-whal-san-go-ya held a great council at Yun-chŭn-yang and agreed to merge their separate fiefs into a kingdom. They named the capital of the new kingdom Sŭ-ya-bŭl, from which the present word Seoul is probably derived, and it was situated where Kyöng-ju now stands in Kyüng-sang Province. At first the name applied both to the capital and to the kingdom.

They placed upon the throne a boy of thirteen years, named Hyŭk-kŭ-se, with the royal title Kŭ-sŭ-gan. It is said that his family name was Pak, but this was probably an afterthought derived from a Chinese source. At any rate he is generally known as Pak Hyŭk-kŭ-se. The story of his advent is typically Korean. A company of revellers beheld upon a mountain side a ball of light on which a horse was seated. They approached it and as they did so the horse rose straight in air and disappeared, leaving a great, luminous egg. This soon opened of itself and disclosed a handsome boy. This wonder was accompanied by vivid light and the noise of thunder. Not long after this another wonder was seen. Beside the Yŭn-yüng Spring a hen raised her wing and from her side came forth a female child with a mouth like a bird’s bill, but when they washed her in the spring the bill fell off and left her like other children. For this reason the well was named the Pal-ch’ŭn which refers to the falling of the bill. Another tradition says that she was formed from the rib of a dragon which inhabited the spring. In the fifth year of his reign the youthful king espoused this girl and they typify to all Koreans the perfect marriage.

As this kingdom included only six of the Chin-han states, it would be difficult to give its exact boundaries. From the very first it began to absorb the surrounding states, until at last it was bounded on the east and south by the sea alone, while it extended north to the vicinity of the Han River and westward to the borders of Na-han, or to Chi-ri San. It took her over four hundred years to complete these conquests, many of which were bloodless while others were effected at the point of the sword. It was not until the twenty-second generation that the name Sil-la was adopted as the name of this kingdom.

35It is important to notice that the island of Tsushima, whether actually conquered by Sil-la or not, became a dependency of that Kingdom and on account of the sterility of the soil the people of that island were annually aided by the government. It was not until the year 500 A.D. or thereabouts that the Japanese took charge of the island and placed their magistrate there. From that time on, the island was not a dependency of any Korean state but the relations between them were very intimate, and there was a constant interchange of goods, in a half commercial and half political manner. There is nothing to show that the daimyos of Tsushima ever had any control over any portion of the adjacent coast of Korea.

It gives one a strong sense of the trustworthiness of the Korean records of these early days to note with what care the date of every eclipse was recorded. At the beginning of each reign the list of the dates of solar eclipses is given. For instance, in the reign of Hyŭk-kŭ-se they occurred, so the records say, in the fourth, twenty-fourth, thirtieth, thirty-second, forty-third, forty-fifth, fifty-sixth and fifty-ninth years of his reign. According to the Gregorian calendar this would mean the years 53, 31, 27, 25, 14, 12 B.C. and 2. A.D. If these annals were later productions, intended to deceive posterity, they would scarcely contain lists of solar eclipses. The marvelous or incredible stories given in these records are given only as such and often the reader is warned not to put faith in them.

The year 48 B.C. gives us the first definite statement of a historical fact regarding Japanese relations with Korea. In that year the Japanese pirates stopped their incursions into Korea for the time being. From this it would seem that even at that early date the Japanese had become the vikings of the East and were carrying fire and sword wherever there was enough water to float their boats. It would also indicate that the extreme south of Korea was not settled by Japanese, for it was here that the Japanese incursions took place.

In 37 B.C. the power of the little kingdom of Sil-la began to be felt in surrounding districts and the towns of Pyön-han joined her standards. It was probably a bloodless conquest, the people of Pyön-han coming voluntarily into Sil-la. In 37 B.C. the capital of Sil-la, which had received the secondary 36name Keum-sŭng, was surrounded by a wall thirty-five li, twelve miles, long. The city was 5,075 paces long and 3,018 paces wide. The progress made by Sil-la and the evident tendency toward centralisation of all power in a monarchy aroused the suspicion of the king of Ma-han who, we must remember, had considered Chin-han as in some sense a vassal of Ma-han. For this reason the king of Sil-la, in 19 B.C., sent an envoy to the court of Ma-han with rich presents in order to allay the fears of that monarch. The constant and heavy influx into Sil-la of the fugitive Chinese element also disturbed the mind of that same king, for he foresaw that if this went unchecked it might mean the supremacy of Sil-la instead of that of Ma-han. This envoy from Sil-la was Ho-gong, said to have been a native of Japan. He found the king of Ma-han in an unenviable frame of mind and it required all his tact to pacify him, and even then he succeeded so ill that had not the Ma-han officials interfered the king would have had his life. The following year the king of Ma-han died and a Sil-la embassy went to attend the obsequies. They were anxious to find opportunity to seize the helm of state in Ma-han and bring her into the port of Sil-la, but this they were strictly forbidden to do by their royal master who generously forebore to take revenge for the insult of the preceding year.

As this was the year, 37 B.C., which marks the founding of the powerful kingdom of Ko-gur-yŭ, we must turn our eyes northward and examine that important event.

As the founder of Ko-gur-yŭ originated in the kingdom of Pu-yŭ, it will be necessary for us to examine briefly the position and status of that tribe, whose name stands prominently forth in Korean history and tradition. There were four Pu-yŭs in all; North Pu-yŭ, East Pu-yŭ, Chŭl-bŭn Pu-yŭ and South Pu-yŭ. We have already, under the head of the Tan-gun, seen that tradition gives to Pu-ru his son, the honor of having having been the founder of North Pu-yŭ, or Puk Pu-yŭ as it is commonly called. This is quite apocryphal but gives us at least a precarious starting point. This Puk Pu-yŭ is said by some to have been far to the north in the vicinity of the Amur River or on one of its tributaries, a belief which is sustained to a certain extent by some inferences to be deduced from the following legend.

37It must have been about fifty years before the beginning of our era that King Hă-bu-ru sat upon the throne of North Pu-yŭ. His great sorrow was that Providence had not given him a son. Riding one day in the forest he reached the bank of a swift rushing stream and there dismounting he besought the Great Spirit to grant him a son. Turning to remount he found the horse standing with bowed head before a great boulder while tears were rolling down its face. He turned the boulder over and found beneath it a child of the color of gold but with a form resembling a toad. Thus was his prayer answered. He took the curious child home and gave it the name Keum-wa or “Golden Toad.” Soon after this the kingdom removed to East Pu-yŭ, or Tong Pu-yŭ, somewhere near the “White Head Mountain,” known as Păk-tu San.

Arriving at the age of manhood, Keum-wa looked about for a wife. As he was walking along the shore of U-bal-su (whether river or sea we do not know) he found a maiden crying. Her name was Yu-wha, “Willow Catkin.” To his inquiries she replied that she was daughter of the Sea King, Ha-băk, but that she had been driven from home because she had been enticed away and ravished by a spirit called Ha-mo-su. Keum-wa took her home as his wife but shut her in a room to which the sun-light had access only by a single minute aperture. Marvelous to relate a ray of light entered and followed her to whatever part of the room she went. By it she conceived and in due time gave birth to an egg, as large as five “measures.” Keum-wa in anger threw it to the pigs and dogs but they would not touch it. Cattle and horses breathed upon it to give it warmth. A stork from heaven settled down upon it and warmed it beneath her feathers. Keum-wa relented and allowed Yu-wha to bring it to the palace, where she wrapped it in silk and cotton. At last it burst and disclosed a fine boy. This precocious youth at seven years of age was so expert with the bow that he won the name of Chu-mong, “Skillful Archer.” He was not a favorite with the people and they tried to compass his death but the king protected him and made him keeper of the royal stables. Like Jacob of Holy Writ he brought his wits to bear upon the situation. By fattening the poorer horses and making the good ones lean he succeeded in reserving for his own use the 38fleetest steeds. Thus in the hunt he always led the rout and secured the lion’s share of the game. For this his seven brothers hated him and determined upon his death. By night his mother sought his bed-side and whispered the word of warning. Chu-mong arose and with three trusty councillors, O-i, Ma-ri and Hyŭp-pu, fled southward until he found his path blocked by the Eum-ho River. There was neither boat, bridge nor ford. Striking the surface of the water with his bow he called upon the spirit of the river to aid him, for behind him the plain smoked with the pursuing hoof-beats of his brothers’ horses. Instantly there came up from the depths of the river a shoal of fish and tortoises who lay their backs together and thus bridged the stream.

Fantastic as this story seems, it may have an important bearing upon the question of the location of Pu-yŭ. Can we not see in this great shoal of fish a reference to the salmon which, at certain seasons, run up the Amur and its tributaries in such numbers that the water is literally crowded with them? If there is any weight to this argument the kingdom of Pu-yŭ, from which Chu-mong came, must have been, as some believe, along the Sungari or some other tributary of the Amur.

Leaving his brothers baffled on the northern bank, Chu-mong fared southward till he reached Mo-tun-gok by the Po-sul River where he met three men, Chă-sa, clothed in grass cloth, Mu-gol in priestly garb and Muk-hŭ, in seaweed. They joined his retinue and proceeded with him to Chŭl-bon, the present town of Song-ch’ŭn, where he founded a kingdom. He gave it the name of Ko-gu-ryŭ, from Ko, his family name, and Ku-ryŭ, a mountain in his native Pu-yŭ. Some say the Ko is from the Chinese Kao, “high,” referring to his origin. This kingdom is also known by the name Chŭl-bon Pu-yu. It is said that Pu-ryu River flowed by the capital. These events occurred, if at all, in the year 37 B.C. This was all Chinese land, for it was a part of the great province of Tong-bu which had been erected by the Emperor So-je (Chao-ti) in 81 B.C. Only one authority mentions Chu-mong’s relations with Tong-bu. This says that when he erected his capital at Chŭl-bon he seized Tong-bu. China had probably held these provinces with a very light hand and the founding of a 39vigorous native monarchy would be likely to attract the semi-barbarous people of northern Korea. Besides, the young Ko-gu-ryŭ did not seize the whole territory at once but gradually absorbed it. It is not unlikely that China looked with complacency upon a native ruler who, while recognising her suzerainty, could at the same time hold in check the fierce denizens of the peninsula.

We are told that the soil of Ko-gu-ryŭ was fertile and that the cereals grew abundantly. The land was famous for its fine horses and its red jade, its blue squirrel skins and its pearls. Chu-mong inclosed his capital in a heavy stockade and built store-houses and a prison. At its best the country stretched a thousand li beyond the Yalu River and southward to the banks of the Han. It comprised the Nang-nang tribe from which Emperor Mu-je named the whole north-western portion of Korea when he divided northern Korea into four provinces. On the east was Ok-ju and on its north was Pu-yŭ. It contained two races of people, one living among the mountains and the other in the plains. It is said they had a five-fold origin. There were the So-ro-bu, Chŭl-lo-bu, Sun-no-bu, Kwan-no-bu and Kye-ro-bu. The kings at first came from the So-ro-bu line but afterwards from the Kye-ro-bu. This probably refers to certain family clans or parties which existed at the time of Chu-mong’s arrival and which were not discontinued. Chu-mong is said to have married the daughter of the king of Chŭl-bon and so he came into the control of affairs in a peaceful way and the institutions of society were not particularly disturbed.

Agriculture was not extensively followed. In the matter of food they were very frugal. Their manners and customs were somewhat like those of Pu-yŭ but were not derived from that kingdom. Though licentious they were fond of clean clothes. At night both sexes gathered in a single apartment and immorality abounded. Adultery, however, if discovered, was severely punished. In bowing it was customary for these people to throw out one leg behind. While travelling, men more often ran than walked. The worship of spirits was universal. In the autumn there was a great religious festival. In the eastern part of the peninsula there was a famous cave called Su-sin where a great religious gathering occurred each 40autumn. Their religious rites included singing and drinking. At the same time captives were set free. They worshipped likewise on the eve of battle, slaughtering a bullock and examining the body for omens.

Swords, arrows and spears were their common weapons. A widow usually became the wife of her dead husband’s brother. When a great man died it was common to bury one or more men alive with his body. The statement that sometimes as many as a hundred were killed is probably an exaggeration. These characteristics were those of the Nang-nang people as well as of the rest of Ko-gu-ryŭ. The highest official grades were called Sang-ga-dă, No-p’ă, Ko-ju-dă. Some say their official grades were called by the names of animals, as the “horse grade” the “dog grade” the “cow grade.” There were special court garments of silk embroidered with gold and silver. The court hat was something like the present kwan or skull-cap. There were few prisoners. If a man committed a crime he was summarily tried and executed, and his wife and children became slaves. Thieves restored twelve-fold. Marriage always took place at the bride’s house. The dead were wrapped in silks and interred, and commonly the entire fortune of the deceased was exhausted in the funeral ceremony. The bodies of criminals were left unburied. The people were fierce and violent and thieving was common. They rapidly corrupted the simpler and cleaner people of the Ye-măk and Ok-jŭ tribes.

No sooner had Chu-mong become firmly established in his new capital than he began to extend the limits of his kingdom. In 35 B.C. he began a series of conquests which resulted in the establishment of a kingdom destined to defy the power of China for three quarters of a millennium. His first operations were against the wild people to the east of him. The first year he took Pu-ryu on the Ya-lu, then in 29 B.C. he took Hăng-in, a district near the present Myo-hyang San. In 27 B.C. he took Ok-jŭ, thus extending his kingdom to the shore of eastern Korea. In 23 B.C. he learned that his mother had died in far off Pu-yŭ and he sent an embassy thither to do honor to her.

The year 18 B.C. beheld the founding of the third of the great kingdoms which held the triple sceptre of Korea, and 41we must therefore turn southward and examine the events which led up to the founding of the kingdom of Păk-je.

When Chu-mong fled southward from Pu-yŭ he left behind him a wife and son. The latter was named Yu-ri. Tradition says that one day while playing with pebbles in the street he accidentally broke a woman’s water jar. In anger she exclaimed “You are a child without a father.” The boy went sadly home and asked his mother if it was true. She answered yes, in order to see what the boy would do. He went out and found a knife and was on the point of plunging it into his body when she threw herself upon him saying “Your father is living and is a great king in the south. Before he left he hid a token under a tree, which you are to find and take to him.” The boy searched every where but could not find the tree. At last, wearied out, he sat down behind the house in despair, when suddenly he heard a sound as of picking, and noticing that it came from one of the posts of the house he said “This is the tree and I shall now find the token.” Digging beneath the post he unearthed the broken blade of a sword. With this he started south and when he reached his father’s palace he showed the token. His father produced the other half of the broken blade and as the two matched he received the boy and proclaimed him heir to the throne.

But he had two other sons by a wife whom he had taken more recently. They were Pi-ryu and On-jo. When Yu-ri appeared on the scene these two brothers, knowing how proverbially unsafe the head of a king’s relative is, feared for their lives and so fled southward. Ascending Sam-gak San, the mountain immediately behind the present Seoul, they surveyed the country southward. Pi-ryu the elder chose the country to the westward along the sea. On-jo chose to go directly south. So they separated, Pi-ryu going to Mi-ch’u-hol, now In-ch’ŭn near Chemulpo, where he made a settlement. On-jo struck southward into what is now Ch’ung-ch’ŭng Province and settled at a place called Eui-rye-sŭng, now the district of Chik-san. There he was given a generous tract of land by the king of Ma-han; and he forthwith set up a little kingdom which he named South Pu-yŭ. The origin of the name Păk-je is not definitely known. Some say it was because a hundred men constituted the whole of On-jo’s party. Others say 42that it was at first called Sip-je and then changed to Păk-je when their numbers were swelled by the arrival of Pi-ryu and his party. The latter had found the land sterile and the climate unhealthy at Mi-ch’u-hol and so was constrained to join his brother again. On the other hand we find the name Păk-je in the list of original districts of Ma-han and it is probable that this new kingdom sprang up in the district called Păk-je and this name became so connected with it that it has came down in history as Păk-je, while in truth it was not called so by its own people. It the same way Cho-sŭn is known today by the medieval name Korea. Not long after Pi-ryu rejoined his brother he died of chagrin at his own failure.

It must not be imagined that these three kingdoms of Sil-la, Ko-gu-ryŭ and Păk-je, which represented so strongly the centripetal idea in government, were allowed to proceed without vigorous protests from the less civilized tribes about them. The Mal-gal tribes in the north, the Suk-sin and North Ok-jŭ tribe in the north-east and Ye-măk in the east made fierce attacks upon them as opportunity presented. The Mal-gal tribes in particular seem to have penetrated southward even to the borders of Păk-je, probably after skirting the eastern borders of Ko-gu-ryŭ. Nominally Ko-gu-ryŭ held sway even to the Japan Sea but practically the wild tribes roamed as yet at will all through the eastern part of the peninsula. In the eighth year of On-jo’s reign, 10 B.C., the Mal-gal forces besieged his capital and it was only after a most desperate fight that they were driven back. On-jo found it necessary to build the fortresses of Ma-su-sŭng and Ch’il-chung-sŭng to guard against such inroads. At the same time the Sŭn-bi were threatening Ko-gu-ryŭ on the north, but Gen. Pu Bun-no lured them into an ambush and routed them completely. The king rewarded him with land, horses and thirty pounds of gold, but the last he refused.

The next year the wild men pulled down the fortresses lately erected by King On-jo and the latter decided that he must find a better site for his capital. So he moved it to the present site of Nam-han, about twenty miles from the present Seoul. At the same time he sent and informed the king of Ma-han that he had found it necessary to move. The following year he enclosed the town in a wall and set to work teaching 43agriculture to the people throughout the valley of the Han River which flowed near by.

In the year which saw the birth of Christ the situation of affairs in Korea was as follows. In the north, Ko-gu-ryŭ, a vigorous, warlike kingdom, was making herself thoroughly feared by her neighbors; in the central western portion was the little kingdom of Păk-je, as yet without any claims to independence but waiting patiently for the power of Ma-han so to decline as to make it possible to play the serpent in the bosom as Wi-man had done to Ki-ja’s kingdom. In the south was Sil-la, known as a peaceful power, not needing the sword because her rule was so mild and just that people from far and near flocked to her borders and craved to become her citizens. It is one of the compensations of history that Sil-la, the least martial of them all, in an age when force seemed the only arbiter, should have finally overcome them all and imposed upon them her laws and her language.

Chapter VII

Change of Ko-gu-ryu capital.... Sil-la raided.... Legend of Suk-ta’l-ba.... fall of Ma-han.... beginning of Chinese enmity against Ko-gu-ryu....the three kingdoms differentiated.... King Yu-ri degraded.... extension of Ko-gu-ryu.... Japanese corsairs... remnant of Ma-han revolts.... fall of Pu-yu.... origin of in-gum.... siege of Ko-gu-ryu capital raised.... Sil-la’s peaceful policy.... patronymics.... official grades.... unoccupied territory.... kingdom of Ka-rak.... legends.... position.... dependencies.

We read that in 2 A.D. the king of Ko-gu-ryŭ was about to sacrifice a pig to his gods, when the pig escaped and taking to its heels was chased by the courtier Sŭl-chi into the district of Kung-nă. He caught the animal near Wi-na Cliff, north of the Ch’o-san of today. When he returned he described the place to the king as being rough and consequently suitable for the site of a capital. Deer, fish and turtles also abounded. He gave such a glowing account that the king was fain to move his capital to that place, where it remained for two hundred and six years.

In 4 A.D. Hyuk-kŭ-se, the wise king of Sil-la died and seven days later his queen followed him. It is said that they 44were so completely one that neither could live without the other. Nam-hă his son, with the title of Ch’a-ch’a-ung, reigned in his stead. A remnant of the Nang-nang tribe, hearing of the death of King Hyŭk-kŭ-se, thought it a fitting time to make a raid into Sil-la territory, but they were beaten back.

In the third year of his reign, Nam-hă built a shrine to his father and then put the management of the government into the hands of a man named Sŭk-t’al-hă who had become his son-in-law. This man is one of the noted men of Sil-la and his origin and rise are among the cherished traditions of the people.

Somewhere in north-eastern Japan there was a kingdom known as Ta-p’a-ra and there a woman, pregnant for seven years, brought forth an egg. The neighbors thought it a bad omen and were minded to destroy it but the mother, aware of their intentions, wrapped the egg in silk and cotton and placing it in a strong chest committed it to the waters of the Japan Sea. In time it drifted to A-jin Harbor on the coast of Sil-la where an old fisherwoman drew it ashore and found upon opening it that it contained a beautiful child. She adopted him and reared him in her humble home. It was noticed that wherever the child went the magpies followed him in flocks, so they gave him the name of Sŭk, the first part of the Chinese word for magpie. The second part of his name was T’al, “to put off” referring to his having broken forth from the egg, and the final syllable of his name was Hă meaning “to open” for the fishwife opened the chest. This boy developed into a giant both physically and mentally. His foster-mother saw in him the making of a great man, and so gave him what educational advantages she could afford. When he had exhausted these she sent him to enter the service of the great statesman Pyo-gong the same that had acted as envoy to Păk-je. Pyo-gong recognised his merit and introduced him at court where his rise was so rapid that ere long he married the king’s daughter and became vicegerent of the realm, the king resigning into his hands the greater part of the business of state.

The year 9 A.D. beheld the fall of the kingdom of Ma-han. We remember that Ki-jun became king of Ma-han in 193 B.C. He died the same year and was succeeded by his son Ki-t’ak with the title Kang-wang, who ruled four years. 45It was in 58 B.C. that Ki-jun’s descendant Ki-hun (Wun-wang) ascended the throne. It was in the second year of his reign that Sil-la was founded and in his twenty-second year that Ko-gu-ryŭ was founded. After twenty-six years of rule he died and left his son, Ki-jŭng, to hold the scepter. It was this king who, in his sixteenth year gave On-jo the plot of land which became the seat of the kingdom of Păk-je. Twenty-six years had now passed since that act of generosity. Păk-je had steadily been growing stronger and Ma-han had as steadily dwindled, holding now only the two important towns of Wŭn-san and Köm-hyŭn. In fact some authorities say that Ma-han actually came to an end in 16 B.C. at the age of 177 years but that a remnant still held the towns of Wŭn-san and Köm-hyŭn. The balance of proof is however with the statement that Ma-han kept up at least a semblance of a state until 9 A.D.

The first sign of hostile intent on the part of Păk-je against her host, Ma-han, had appeared some years before, when Păk-je had thrown up a line of breast-works between herself and the capital of Ma-han. The latter had no intention of taking the offensive but Păk-je apparently feared that Ma-han would divine her hostile intent. Ma-han hastened to send a message saying “Did I not give you a hundred li of land? Why do you then suspect me of hostile designs?” In answer, Păk-je partly from shame and partly because she saw that Ma-han was wholly unsuspicious of her ulterior designs, tore down the barriers and things went on as before. But now that Ma-han was utterly weak, the king of Păk-je decided to settle the matter by one bold stroke. He organised a great hunting expedition and under cover of this approached the Ma-han capital and took it almost without resistance. Thus, as Wi-man had paid back the kindness of Ki-jun by treachery so now again On-jo paid back this last descendant of Ki-jun in the same way.

Up to this time China had looked on with complacency at the growth of Ko-gu-ryŭ but now Wang-mang the usurper had seized the throne of the Han dynasty. His title was Hsin Whang-ti. One of his first acts seems to have been directed against the powerful little kingdom that had supplanted the two provinces of Tong-bu and P‘yŭng-ju into which China had 46divided northern Korea. He was probably suspicious of a rapidly growing and thoroughly warlike power which might at any time gather to its standards the wild hordes of the north and sweep down into China.

Here was the beginning of a long struggle which lasted with occasional intermissions until Ko-gu-ryŭ was finally destroyed some eight centuries later. Ko-gu-ryŭ was uniformly China’s foe and Sil-la was as uniformly her friend and ally. Păk-je was now one and now the other. It may be in place to say here that the three powers that divided the peninsula between them were strongly differentiated. Ko-gu-ryŭ in the north was a strong, energetic, fierce, unscrupulous military power, the natural product of her constituent elements. Sil-la was the very opposite; always inclined toward peace and willing oftentimes to make very large concessions in order to secure it. Her policy was always to conciliate, and it was for this mainly that at the last China chose her as the one to assume control of the whole peninsula. Păk-je differed from both the others. She was as warlike as Ko-gu-ryŭ but as weak in military resources as Sil-la. She therefore found her life one scene of turmoil and strife and she was the first of the three to succumb.

It was in 12 A.D. that Wang-mang sent an envoy to Yu-ri, king of Ko-gu-ryŭ, demanding aid in the work of subduing the wild tribes of the north. This was refused by the headstrong Yu-ri, but the Emperor compelled him to send certain troops to accompany the Chinese army. They however took advantage of every opportunity to desert, and large numbers of them formed a marauding band that penetrated the Liao-tung territory and plundered and killed on every hand. For this cause the Emperor sent against Ko-gu-ryŭ a strong force under Gen. Om-u, who speedily brought the recalcitrant Yu-ri to terms, took away his title of royalty and left him only the lesser title of Hu or “Marquis.” From that day began the policy of reprisals on Chinese territory which Ko-gu-ryŭ steadily pursued until it cost her life.

These were stirring days in all three of the kingdoms of the peninsula. In 14 A.D. Ko-gu-ryŭ extended her territory northward by the conquest of the Yang-măk tribe and at the same time she seized a strip of land beyond the Liao River 47This shows that the castigation inflicted by Wang-mang had not been very severe.

At the same time Sil-la was being harrassed along her southern sea-board by Japanese corsairs, and while her small army was busy driving these out the wild people of Nang-nang attacked her on the north. It is said that one night a meteor fell in their camp and frightened them back to their own country and thus Sil-la was saved.

Two years later the king Yu-ri of Ko-gu-ryŭ died and his son Mu-hyŭl ascended the throne, bestowing on his father the title Tong-myŭng or “Eastern Brightness.” The same year saw a remnant of the overthrown kingdom of Ma-han, under the leadership of Captain Chu-geun, attempt to wrest the scepter from Păk-je and restore the fallen house, but they were defeated and together with their wives and children were put to the sword. About this time an ancient royal seal was unearthed in northern Sil-la, where Kang-neung now lies. It became the royal seal of Sil-la.

The next year Ko-gu-ryŭ, ever on the lookout for aggrandisement, made the conquest of Pu-yŭ, the land from which Chu-mong had fled. The tradition is as follows. Ta-so the king of Pu-yŭ, had become possessed of a red crow with two bodies but only one head. The soothsayers said “Two countries will be joined under one head”. The king replied “Then it means that I shall conquer Ko-gu-ryŭ.” So he sent the bird to the king of Ko-gu-ryŭ as a gage of war, but that astute monarch replied “Red is the color of the south. I shall therefore conquer you.” Thereupon he took the initiative and sent a powerful army northward to make good his threat. The story says that as the army entered Li-mul forest the soldiers found swords clashing together but wielded by invisible hands. These they seized and hastened on. Soon they were joined by a gigantic warrior with a white face who joined their party and gave his name as Kwe-yu.

Approaching the capital of Pu-yŭ, they brought up at night before an extensive marsh. The Pu-yŭ king, thinking to surprise them by a night attack, attempted to cross the marsh, but became mired. The giant Kwe-yu dashed into the swamp and brought to the Ko-gu-ryŭ king his rival’s head. Upon this the Pu-yŭ forces surrendered; all but the 48brother of the fallen king who fled with a hundred followers and settled near the Ya-lu River, calling the place Kal-sa. This Ko-gu-ryŭ winked at.

In 24 A.D. the king of Sil-la died, having nominated as his successor not his son but Sŭk-t’al-hă his son-in-law. After the obsequies had been performed Sŭk-t’al-hă insisted that the prince assume the throne, but he in turn insisted that the dead king’s orders be followed. As a compromise Sŭk-t’al-hă proposed that they should find a man with sixteen teeth in his upper jaw, as this was a sign of unusual wisdom, and that upon him the throne should be bestowed. When it came to the test, it was found that the prince himself was the man. He could no longer refuse and ascended the throne under the title of Yi-sa-geum, or “Sixteen Teeth.” The present word In-gum which means “king” was doubtless derived from or is a corruption of this Sil-la word.

Meanwhile Ko-gu-ryŭ had been pushing her conquests steadily. Kă-ma and Ku-da, two northern districts or “kingdoms” were absorbed and other conquests were contemplated. The Emperor beheld these enlargements of Ko-gu-ryŭ with some concern and in 27 A.D. sent a strong force to bring her to terms. At the first encounter the forces of Ko-gu-ryŭ were routed and fell back toward the capital which, as we have seen, was then at or near the present town of Eui-ju. The king hastily summoned a council of war at which it was decided to man the walls of the capital and try to hold out until the enemy should be compelled by lack of food or the severity of the weather to raise the siege. The Chinese knew that there was little water within the wall and had high hopes of compelling a speedy surrender. This was all too true and there was soon much distress in the city; but a certain courtier said “If you will give me all the fish in the city I will undertake to make the enemy raise the siege or I will pay the penalty with my life.” He was given permission and soon he had the soldiers along the wall going through the motions of a bath, using fish scales for water. The scales glittered in the sun like drops of water and the enemy supposing that there must therefore be a good store of water in the city despaired of taking it by siege and so struck their tents and returned to China.

49The marked difference between Ko-gu-ryŭ and Sil-la was well illustrated by the events of this year. While Ko-gu-ryŭ was reaching out covetous hands in every direction and carrying fire and sword into the hamlets of inoffensive neighbors, Sil-la was pursuing a course of such good will to all both without and within her borders that natives of the wild tribes to the north of her came in large numbers and settled on her soil, glad to become citizens of so kind and generous a land. The king himself made frequent tours of the country alleviating the distress of widows, orphans and cripples. It was in 32 B.C. that he changed the name of the six original families which united in founding Sil-la. The men of Yang-san, Ko-hŭ, Tă-su, Ul-jin, Ka-ri, and of Myŭng-whal were named respectively Yi, Ch’oé, Son, Chöng, Pă and Sŭl. These names will be recognised at once as among the most common patronymics in Korea at the present day, which adds confirmatory evidence that Korea of to-day is essentially the Korea of the south. When we add to this the fact that the names Pak, Kim, An, Ko, Sŭk, Yang, So, Sŭ, Kwŭn, Pă, Im, Na, Hyŭn, Kwak, Ho, Whang, Chang, Sim and Yu originated in southern Korea the argument becomes well-nigh conclusive. The only names of importance that did not originate in southern Korea are Min, Song, Om, Cho, and Han; and many of these originated in what must have been Ma-han territory. At the same time the king established seventeen official grades and called them respectively I-bŭl-son, I-ch’ŭk-son, I-son, P’a-jin-son, Tă-a-son, A-son, Kil-son, Sa-son, etc.

It must be remembered that as yet neither of the “Three Kingdoms” had begun to occupy all the territory that nominally belonged to it or that lay within its “sphere of influence.” Between them lay large tracts of land as yet unoccupied except by wild tribes. It is more than probable that at no point did any of these kingdoms actually touch each other. Ko-gu-ryŭ was broadening out northwards, Păk-je was at a standstill and Sil-la was growing rather by immigration than by occupation of new territory. As yet Sil-la had taken but four districts outside of the original six, and so we see that a large part of the south was still in the hands of the original inhabitants as given in the list of the settlements of the three Hans. In 41 A.D. the nine districts whose names ended in 50kan, namely A-do-gan, Yö-do-gan, P’i-do-gan, O-do-gan, Yu-su-gan, Yu-ch’ŭn-gan, Sin-ch’ŭn-gan, Sin-gwi-gan and O-ch’ŭn-gan, formed a confederacy and called it the “Kingdom of Ka-rak”. They placed their capital at Ka-rak, the present town of Kim-hă, and made Keum Su-ro their king. Tradition says that he obtained his Queen in the following way. A boat approached the shore bearing a beautiful woman, Queen Ho, whose ornamental name was Whang-ok or “Yellow Jade”. She came from the far southern kingdom of A-yu-t’a, otherwise known as Ch’ŭn-ch’uk. It is said that she lived a hundred and fifty-seven years and that the king survived her one year. All that is told us of the history of this rival of Sil-la is the list of her kings which will be found in the chronological tables. After an existence of 491 years it came to an end in the reign of the Sil-la king Pŭp-heung. It is also affirmed that when Sil-la fell in 935, some worthless wretches who defiled the grave of Keum Su-ro were mysteriously killed, one by the falling of a beam, one by an invisible archer and nine others by a serpent eighteen feet long. The records say that when the Japanese, at the time of the great invasion three centuries ago, dug open this king’s grave they found great store of gold and jade. The skull of the monarch was of prodigious size, and beside his body lay two women whose features were well preserved but which dissolved and melted away when exposed to the air. It is barely possible that we here have an indication that embalming was practiced, but if so we have no other intimation of it.

Ka-rak extended eastward as far as Wang-san River, six miles to the west of the present Yang-san; to the north-east as far as Ka-ya San, the present Ko-ryŭng; to the south and south-west as far as the coast and on the west to Chi-ri San. From this we see that it was little inferior to Sil-la in size.

Ka-rak had five dependencies, namely the districts known under the common name of Ka-ya. They were So-ga-ya, Ko-ryŭng-ga-ya, Song-san-ga-ya, Tă-ga-ya and A-ra-ga-ya. They correspond respectively to the present towns of Ko-sŭng, Ham-ch’ang, Ham-ch’ang, Sŭng-ju, Ko-ryŭng and Ham-an. Tradition says that one day when the chiefs of the nine tribes of Ka-rak were banqueting they saw upon the slope of Sung-bong, called also Ku-yii-bong, a singular cloud. From the sky 51above it came a voice. They hastened up the mountain and there found a golden box containing six golden eggs. These opened and disclosed six boys. One of them was Keum Su-ro who became king of Ka-rak and the other five were made chiefs of the five Ka-ya, subject to Ka-rak. Of these Ka-ya states we know the founder of only one. He was descended from Kyŏn-mo-ju, the female divinity of Ka-ya Mountain who wedded a celestial being, Yi-ja-ga. Their off-spring was Yi-i-a-si, who founded one of the Ka-ya states. The Ka-ya states fell before Sil-la some five hundred years later in the reign of King Chin-heung.

Chapter VIII

Vicissitudes of Ko-gu-ryu.... last Ma-han chief joins Sil-la.... Pak-je and Sil-la become sworn enemies.... legend of Kye-rim.... Pak-je worsted.... Ko-gu-ryu’s strength on the increase.... Sil-la’s rapid growth.... Ka-ya attacks Sil-la.... Ko-gu-ryu make compact with Ye-mak.... Su-sŭng’s evil reign.... roads in Sil-la.... Japanese raid.... legend.... an epicurean.... Pak-je’s victory.... origin of government loans.... Yun-u’s trickery.... capital of Ko-gu-ryu moved.... wild tribes attack Sil-la.... democratic ideas in Sil-la.... Ko-gu-ryu breaks with China.... and attacks Sil-la.... China invades Ko-gu-ryu.... the king retreats.... relieved through treachery.... capital of Ko-gu-ryu moved to P’yung-yang.... beginning of feud between Korea and Japan.... reforms in Pak-je.... third century closes.... progress of Sil-la.... how Eul-bul became king of Ko-gu-ryu.... a noble lady of Sil-la is sent to Japan.

Mu-hyŭl, the third king of Ko-gu-ryŭ died in 45, leaving the kingdom to the tender mercies of his son a worthless debauchee. Four years later he in turn made way for Hă-u, a member of a collateral branch of the family. Following the traditions of Ko-gu-ryŭ this ruler professed loyalty to China on the one hand and seized all the Chinese territory he could lay hands on, on the other. In 54 he was assassinated by one Tu-no and the seven year old grandson of king Yu-ri was placed on the throne, a regent being appointed to carry on the government until the boy reached his majority. The good work continued. Ten forts were built in western Liao-tung to guard against Chinese advances, which shows that she had regained nearly all the territory she had lost at the hands of 52the parvenu Wang-mang. The following year she took formal possession of the territory of Ok-jŭ on the eastern coast.

In the year 58 Yu-ri, the third king of Sil-la died. He must not be confounded with Yu-ri the second king of Ko-gu-ryŭ. The sound is the same but the character is different. It was he who had the difference of opinion with Sŭk-t’al-hă in regard to the succession. As he died without issue the reins of government naturally passed into the hands of the aged statesman Sŭk-t’al-hă. He was sixty-two years old when he assumed the cares of royalty. In his fifth year the one remaining Ma-han chief, Măng-so, who had escaped the appetite of Păk-je, went over to Sil-la, as he concluded it was no longer possible to prolong a hopeless struggle against Păk-je. Pok-am fortress thus passed into the hands of Sil-la. Strange to say Păk-je not only did not resent this but even made overtures to Sil-la for a friendly meeting of their respective kings in the following year. Sil-la refused to sanction this, and the rebuff was too much for the equanimity of Păk-je. From that day the attitude of Păk-je toward Sil-la was one of studied hostility, broken only by an occasional spasmodic attempt at reconciliation. Among the three kingdoms, Sil-la was the only one that preserved her dignity intact and kept herself untainted by the charge either of avarice or pusilanimity.

The year 66 brought forth another of those wonders that embellish the legendary lore of Korea. The king of Sil-la was wakened one night by the loud cackling of a hen, which seemed to come from a forest to the south. A messenger was sent to see what was the cause of the disturbance and he found a box hanging from the branch of a tree, while on the ground beneath it there cluttered a white hen. When the box was placed before the king and he had opened it a handsome child was found. It received the name Keum Yun-ji. Some say this Yŭn-ji was merely a part of the name while others affirm that it is a pure Sil-la word meaning “baby”. Up to this time the kingdom had been called Sŭ-ra-bŭl but now the king changed it to Kye-rim, kye meaning “hen” and rim meaning “woods.” So the kingdom was called “Hen in the Woods”, not a very dignified name but one, perhaps, that fitted well the military prowess of the kingdom.

In 68 Păk-je deemed herself strong enough to undertake 53operations against Sil-la. She began by seizing the fortress of Wa-san. She enjoyed possession of it for nine years but in the end she paid dear, for it was retaken by Sil-la and the Păk-je garrison was put to the sword. This year also saw a continuation of Ko-gu-ryŭ’s forward policy and the little settlement of Kal-sa which had been make by Pu-yŭ fugitives was absorbed. She followed this up by the conquest of Chu-ra farther north. Her military strength seems to have been on the rapid increase.

In 80 the great Sŭk-t’al-hă died and was succeeded by the son of King Nam-hă. He must have been of advanced age and yet not so old as to prevent his becoming the greatest conqueror that Sil-la ever produced. During the thirty-two years of his reign he added to the Sil-la crown the districts of Eum-jip-pŭl, Ap-to, Pi-ji, Ta-bŭl, Ch’o-p’al, and Sil-jik. These together with U-si and Kŭ-ch’il, which and been added the year before his accession, formed a considerable increase in the territory of the kingdom and added not a little to Sil-la’s reputation as a military power. This king, P’a-sa, was one of those men who seem to take hold of affairs by the right end and wring success from seeming failure. He was as great an administrator as he was mild a conqueror. He attended so carefully to the needs of the people that it is said that during most of his reign food was so plentiful that the wayfarer needed no money to pay for food or lodgings along the road.

The kingdom of Ka-ya, whose origin we noted in the previous chapter, now assumed the offensive against Sil-la. The first intimation we have of this is the fact that Sil-la in 88 built two forts named Ka-so and Ma-du, the first of which was to guard against the encroachments of Păk-je and the second to guard against those of Ka-ya. It was not till three years later that Ka-ya actually opened hostilities by inaugurating an expedition against Sil-la. As the event is not disclosed by the annalists we may conclude that it was unsuccessful.

Ko-gu-ryŭ now extended the field of her military operations. She made friends with the people of Ye-măk, to the east, and together with them began a series of raids into Chinese territory beyond the northern borders. The sixth king of Ko-gu-ryŭ, T’ă-jo Wang, had now reached the sixty-ninth year of his reign so he turned over to his brother, Su-sŭng, 54the administration of affairs. This brother was as ambitious as the king and continued the league with Ye-măk and the encroachments upon China. But he was disloyal to his brother and tried to form a combination against him. In this he was not successful. The reign of this T’ă-jo Wang was the longest one on record in Korean annals. He held the scepter ninety-four years, thereby sorely trying the patience of his heir apparent. That gentleman came to the throne at the green old age of seventy-six, in the year 147 A.D. He showed however that his memory had not yet failed him for one of his first acts was to arrest and put to death all the wise men who had chidden him for attempting to unseat his brother. Ko Pok-chang a celebrated scholar of that day was so overwhelmed in view of this barbarous act that he asked to be destroyed with the rest of the wise men, a wish that was probably granted. One day this singular monarch having seen a white fox cross his path, an evil omen, asked a soothsayer what it might portend. That individual suggested that if the king should reform even the worst of omens would turn out happily. The soothsayer lost his head as a result of his candor; but from that day on, whenever the king wanted to consult a soothsayer he found that they were all engaged in important work at some distant point.

King Il-seung of Sil-la whose reign began 134 was the first to pay attention to the building of good roads throughout the country. In his fifth year he built a road from his capital to Chuk-yŭn, now Pung-geui, and another one over Kye-ip Pass. These became very important thoroughfares. We also find that his successor continued this good work by opening roads thro to the north of the kingdom. These kings were not many years behind the Romans in recognising the vast importance of good roads both for administrative and military purposes.

The relations between Sil-la and Japan are graphically described in the single statement that when someone circulated in the capital the rumor that a company of Japanese were coming the people fled precipitately from the city until it was half depopulated. When the mistake was discovered they gradually came back.

The interesting legend of Yŭng-o and Se-o belongs to the year 158, though it scarcely merits the “once upon a time” of 55a nursery tale. Yŭng-o a poor fisherman lived with his wife Se-o beside the waters of the Japan Sea on the eastern shore of Sil-la. One day as Yŭng-o was seated on a great boulder beside the water, fishing, he felt the rock tremble and then rise straight in air. He was carried, to his great consternation, eastward across the sea and deposited in a Japanese village. The Japanese folk took him for a god and made him their king at once. When his wife found that he did not return from fishing she went in search of him. Ascending the same rock that had carried him to Japan she experienced the same novel extradition that had so surprised her spouse. She found him metamorphosed into a king and was nothing loath to become queen. But their departure brought disaster to Sil-la for the sun and moon were darkened and the land was shrouded in gloom. The sooth-sayers said it was because someone had gone to Japan. An envoy was sent post haste to those islands in search of the fugitives, but found to his dismay that they had become king and queen of one of the kingdoms there. He told his story and besought them to return, but they seemed well satisfied with the change. Se-o however brought out a roll of silk and gave it to the envoy saying that if the king of Sil-la would spread it out and sacrifice upon it the light would return. The event proved the truth of her statement and when the king uttered the words of invocation the sunlight burst forth again and all was well. It is an interesting but melancholy fact that most of the arguments used to show a Korean origin of things Japanese are based upon evidence nearly if not quite as credible as this story. The Japanese work entitled the Kojiki bears the same relation to the carefully detailed history of Sil-la that the Niebelungenlied bears to the works of Tacitus.

When the time came for Su-sŭng, the sanguinary king of Ko-gu-ryŭ to die a young scapegrace by the name of Ch’a-da came to the throne. His idea of royalty was that it consisted in one long orgie. He attempted to carry out his ideal but was cut short within a year by the assassin’s knife. His motto, in his own words, was “Who does not wish to enjoy life?” Epicureanism may have existed in Korea before but it had never had so frank a disciple. Păk-ko a relative of the murdered king was called from a mountain fastness whither 56he had fled for safety. They had to ask him three times before they could convince him that it was not a mere decoy.

By the year 168 either Păk-je had grown so strong or Sil-la so weak that the former deemed it a fit time to make a grand demonstration all along Sil-la’s western border. It is said she carried back a thousand captives to grace her triumph. Sil-la, though filled with rage, was not in condition to return the compliment in kind. She however sent an urgent letter pointing out the advantages of peace and asking that the captives be returned. We may imagine how this was received by the proud army flushed as it must have been by an unwonted victory.

About this time was begun one of the ancient customs of Korea that has ever since exerted an important influence upon the life of the people. While hunting the king met a man weeping bitterly and upon being asked what was the matter replied that he had not a grain of food to give his parents. Thereupon the king gave him an order on the government granary with the understanding that when autumn came he should pay it back. Thus originated the whan-sang or custom of making government loans in the spring to be paid back with interest in the autumn. When this king died he was succeeded by the grandson of old Sŭk-t’al-hă. He took in hand the work of instilling new life into the well-nigh dead bones of Sil-la. His first action was to establish two military stations at the capital so that it might not be at the mercy of the first adventurer that might pass that way. He also ordered the people to pay less attention to the construction of fine government buildings and more to agriculture, the back bone of the state.

Nam-mu the tenth king of Ko-gu-ryŭ died at night and the queen, desiring to gain an extension of her power, slipped out of the palace and hastened to the house of the king’s oldest brother Pal-gi. She stated the case and urged him to hasten to the palace and assume the royal prerogative. He refused to believe that the king was dead and accused her of immodesty. She then hurried to the house of the younger brother Yŭn-u and repeated the story. The young man accompanied her and when morning broke it was found that he was established in the palace and ready to meet all comers. Pal-gi raged and cursed. He stormed the palace with his retainers, but being unsuccessful, was fain to beat a retreat to Liao-tung.

57The dawn of the third century saw the three states of Korea in the same relative position as before. Ko-gu-ryŭ was still the same ambitious military power, Păk-je was still her own worst enemy though flaunting for the time being in the gay colors of a temporal triumph, Sil-la was plodding along quietly paying more attention to internal improvements and so earning the right which she afterward enjoyed of holding sway over the whole peninsula. The first twenty-five years of the century witnessed unusual activity on the part of the surrounding savages who in view of the constantly increasing power of the three states beheld their territories diminishing. The wild people of Kol-p’o, Chil-p’o and Ko-p’o ravaged the borders of Sil-la but were driven back. On the south she attacked and burned a settlement of Japanese corsairs who had apparently gained a foothold on the mainland. Păk-je was also attacked on the east by the savages and was obliged to build a wall at Sa-do to keep them back. This period saw over a thousand Chinese refugees cross the Yalu and find asylum in Ko-gu-ryŭ. It also saw U-wi-gŭ, the fruit of a liaison between the eleventh king of Ko-gu-ryŭ and a farmer girl whom he met while hunting, ascend the throne of Ko-gu-ryŭ. It witnessed a remarkable exhibition of democratic feeling in Sil-la when the people rejected Prince Sa-ba-ni and in his place set up Ko-i-rŭ to be king.

The year 240 was an important one in the history of Ko-gu-ryŭ. King U-wi-gŭ was a man of boundless ambition and his temerity was as great as his ambition. Ko-gu-ryŭ had been at peace with China for eight years when, without warning, this U-wi-gŭ saw fit to cross the border and invade the territory of his powerful neighbor. The town of An-p’yŭng-hyŭn in western Liao-tung fell before the unexpected assault. This unprovoked insult aroused the slumbering giant of the Middle Kingdom and the hereditary feud that had existed for many years between Ko-gu-ryŭ and China was intensified. At the same time U-wi-gŭ turned his eyes southward and contemplated the subjugation of Sil-la. To this end he sent an expedition against her in the following year. It was met on the Sil-la border by a defensive force under Gen. Sŭk U-ro who withstood the invaders bravely but was driven back as far as the “Palisades of Ma-du” 58where he took a firm stand. As he could not be dislodged the invading army found itself checked. Meanwhile a dark cloud was rapidly overspreading Ko-gu-ryŭ’s western horizon. The great Chinese general, Mo Gu-geum, with a force of 10,000 men advanced upon the Ko-gu-ryŭ outposts and penetrated the country as far as the present Sŭng-ch’ŭn where he met the Ko-gu-ryŭ army under the direct command of king U-wi-gŭ. The result was an overwhelming victory for Ko-gu-ryŭ whose soldiers chased the flying columns of the enemy to Yang-băk-kok where dreadful carnage ensued. “Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad” proved true in this case. U-wi-gŭ was so elated over the victory that he declared that a handful of Ko-gu-ryŭ troops could chase an army of Chinese. Taking five hundred picked cavalry he continued the pursuit; but he had boasted too soon. Gen. Mo Gu-geum’s reputation was at stake. Rallying a handful of his braves the latter turned upon his pursuers and handled them so severely that they turned and fled. The Chinese followed up the timely victory and threw themselves upon the army of Ko-gu-ryŭ so fiercely that the tables were completely turned. It is said that in the engagement that followed Ko-gu-ryŭ lost 18,000 men. King U-wi-gŭ, seeing that all was lost, fled back to his capital and awaited developments. But Gen. Wang-geui, Mo Gu-geum’s associate, pursued the king across the Yalu and gave him no rest until he had fled eastward to the territory of Ok-jŭ on the eastern coast. On his way thither he crossed Chuk-nyŭng Pass where all his remaining guard forsook him and fled. One of his officials, Mil-u, said “I will go back and hold the enemy at bay while you make good your escape”. So with three or four soldiers he held the narrow pass while the king found a retreat in a deep valley, where he succeeded in getting together a little band of soldiers. He offered a reward to anyone who should go and bring Mil-u safely to him. U Ok-ku volunteered to go. Finding Mil-u wounded and lying on the ground he took him in his arms and carried him to the king. The latter was so delighted to recover his faithful follower that he nursed him back to life by his own hand. A few days later the pursuit continued and the king was again hard pressed. A courtier, Yu-ryu, offered to go to the enemy’s 59camp and in some way stop the pursuit. Taking some food he went and boldly announced that the king desired to surrender and had sent this gift ahead to announce his coming. His words were believed and the general received the gift. But Yu-ryu had concealed a short sword beneath the dishes and when he approached the general he whipped out the weapon and plunged it into the enemy’s breast. The next moment he himself was cut down by the attendants. When the king learned that the pursuers had lost their general he rallied his little force, threw himself upon them and put them to flight. The following year U-wi-gŭ, recognising that his capital was too near the border, decided to remove the court to P‘yŭng-yang which had been the capital for so many centuries. Two years later he made a treaty with Sil-la which remained unbroken for a century. He had been cured of some of his over-ambitiousness. Yŭn-bul was his successor.

In the third year of King Ch’ŭm-hă of Sil-la, 249 A.D. the first envoy ever received from Japan arrived at the shore of Sil-la. He was met by Gen. Sŭk U-ro who addressed him in the following unaccountable manner, “It would be well if your king and queen should come and be slaves in the kitchen of the king of Sil-la”. Without a word the envoy turned about and posted back to Japan. An invasion of Korea was determined upon and soon a powerful force landed on the coast of that country. Gen. Sŭk U-ro was filled with dismay and remorse. He confessed to the king that he was the cause of this hostile display and begged to be allowed to go alone and propitiate the advancing enemy. It was granted and he walked straight into the Japanese camp and confessed his crime and asked that he alone be punished. The Japanese took him at his word, burned him alive in their camp and returned to their own land without striking a blow. The following year the same envoy came again and was well received by the king, but the widow of Gen. Sŭk U-ro desiring to avenge the blood of her husband, obtained permission to work in the kitchen of the envoy’s place of entertainment. There she found opportunity to poison his food and thus accomplish her purpose. This of course put an end to all hope of amity between the two countries and that event marks 60the beginning of the feud which in spite of occasional periods of apparent friendship, existed between the people of Japan and Korea until the year 1868. Hostilities did not however begin at once.

The latter half of the third century beheld few events of special interest in the peninsula. During this period Păk-je seems to have made a spasmodic effort at reform, for we read that she reorganised her official system and set a heavy penalty for bribery, namely imprisonment for life. She also patched up a shallow peace with Sil-la. In Ko-gu-ryŭ a concubine of King Pong-sang tried to incense him against the queen by showing him a leathern bag which she claimed the queen had made to drown her in. The king saw through the trick and to punish the crafty concubine had her killed in the very way she had described. A chief of the Sŭn-bi tribe invaded Ko-gu-ryŭ and desecrated the grave of the king’s father. The wild men of Suk-sin attempted to overthrow Sil-la but the king’s brother drove them back and succeeded in attaching their territory to the crown of Sil-la. It is said that when Sil-la was hard pressed by a band of savages strange warriors suddenly appeared and after putting the savages to flight, as suddenly disappeared. Each of these strange warriors had ears like the leaves of the bamboo and when it was discovered next day that the ground around the king’s father’s grave was covered with bamboo leaves it was believed that he had come forth from his grave with spirit warriors to aid his son.

With the opening of the fourth century the fifteenth king of Sil-la, Ki-rim, made an extensive tour of his realm. He passed northward as far as U-du-ju near the present Ch’un-ch’ŭn. He also visited a little independent “kingdom” called Pi-ryul, now An-byŭn, and made many presents, encouraged agriculture and made himself generally agreeable. Not so with the king of Ko-gu-ryŭ. He was made of sterner stuff. He issued a proclamation that every man woman and child above fifteen years old should lend their aid in building a palace. Ko-gu-ryŭ had of late years passed through troublous times and the people were in no mood to undertake such a work. An influential courtier, Ch’ang Cho-ri, attempted to dissuade the king but as he was not successful he settled the question by assassinating the king. Eul-bul, who succeeded 61him, had a chequered career before coming to the throne. Being the king’s cousin he had to flee for his life. He first became a common coolie in the house of one Eun-mo in the town of Sil-la. By day he cut wood on the hill sides and by night he made tiles or kept the frogs from croaking while his master slept. Tiring of this he attached himself to a salt merchant but being wrongfully accused he was dragged before the magistrate and beaten almost to death. The official Ch’ang Cho-ri and a few others knew his whereabouts and, hunting him up, they brought him to the “Pul-yu water” a hundred and ten li from P’yŭng-yang, and hid him in the house of one O Măk-nam. When all was ripe for the final move, Ch’ang Cho-ri inaugurated a great hunting party. Those who were willing to aid in dethroning the king were to wear a bunch of grass in the hat as a sign. The king was seized and imprisoned, and there hanged himself. His sons also killed themselves and Eul-bul was then elevated to the perilous pinnacle of royalty.

It was about the beginning of this century also that the Japanese, during one of those spasmodic periods of seeming friendship asked the king of Sil-la to send a noble maiden of Sil-la to be their queen. The king complied and sent the daughter of one of his highest officials, A-son-geup-ri.

Chapter IX

Rise of Yŭn.... rebellion against China.... siege of Keuk Fortress raised.... Ko-gu-ryŭ surrenders to Yŭn.... Ko-gu-ryŭ disarmed.... Japanese attack Sil-la.... Păk-je’s victory over Ko-gu-ryŭ.... moves her capital across the Han.... Păk-je people in Sil-la.... Yŭn is punished.... Buddhism introduced into Ko-gu-ryŭ.... and into Păk-je.... amnesty between Ko-gu-ryŭ and Păk-je.... but Ko-gu-ryŭ continues the war.... Păk-je in danger.... envoy to Japan.... Ch’ŭm-nye usurps the throne of Păk-je.... and is killed.... Sil-la princes rescued.... Ko-gu-ryŭ and Păk-je receive investiture from China.... China’s policy.... Nul-ji’s reign.... Ko-gu-ryŭ and Păk-je transfer their allegience.... Yŭn extinct.... beginning of triangular war.... diplomatic relations.... Ko-gu-ryŭ falls from grace.... first war vessel.... diplomatic complications.... Păk-je humiliated.... her capital moved.

62We have now come to the events which marked the rise of the great Yŭn power in Liao-tung. They are so intimately connected with the history of Ko-gu-ryŭ that we must give them in detail. For many years there had been a Yŭn tribe in the north but up to the year 320 it had not come into prominence. It was a dependency of the Tsin dynasty of China. Its chiefs were known by the general name Mo Yong. In 320 Mo Yong-we was the acting chief of the tribe. He conceived the ambitious design of overcoming China and founding a new dynasty. The Emperor immediately despatched an army under Gen. Ch’oe-bi to put down the incipient rebellion. Ko-gu-ryŭ and the U-mun and Tan tribes were called upon to render assistance against the rebels. All complied and soon the recalcitrant chieftain found himself besieged in Keuk Fortress and was on the point of surrendering at discretion when an event occurred which, fortunately for him, broke up the combination and raised the siege. It was customary before surrendering to send a present of food to the one who receives the overtures of surrender. Mo Yong-we, in pursuance of this custom, sent out the present, but for some reason it found its way only into the camp of the U-mun forces while the others received none. When this became known the forces of Ko-gu-ryŭ, believing that Mo Yong-we had won over the U-mun people to his side, retired in disgust and the Chinese forces, fearing perhaps a hostile combination, likewise withdrew. The U-mun chiefs resented this suspicion of treachery and vowed they would take Mo Yong-we single-handed. But this they could not do, for the latter poured out upon them with all his force and scattered them right and left. From this point dates the rise of Yŭn. Gen. Ch’oe-bi fearing the wrath of the Emperor fled to Ko-gu-ryŭ where he found asylum. Here the affair rested for a time. The kingdom of Yŭn forebore to attack Ko-gu-ryŭ and she in turn was busy strengthening her own position in view of future contingencies. Ten years passed during which no events of importance transpired. In 331 Eul-bul the king of Ko-gu-ryŭ died and his son Soé began his reign by adopting an active policy of defense. He heightened the walls of P’yŭng-yang and built a strong fortress in the north, called Sin-sŭng. He followed this up by strengthening 63his friendly relations with the court of China. These facts did not escape the notice of the rising Yŭn power. Mo Yong-whang, who had succeeded Mo Yong-we, hurled an expedition against the new Sin-sŭng Fortress and wrested it from Ko-gu-ryŭ. The king was compelled, much against his will, to go to Liao-tung and swear fealty to the Yŭn power. Two years later the capital was moved northward to Wan-do, in the vicinity of the Eui-ju of today. This was done probably at the command of Yŭn who desired to have the capital of Ko-gu-ryŭ within easy reach in case any complications might arise.

Mo Yong-whang desired to invade China without delay but one of his relatives, Mo Yong-han, advised him to disarm Ko-gu-ryŭ and the U-mun tribe so that no possible enemy should be left in his rear when he marched into China. It was decided to attack Ko-gu-ryŭ from the north and west, but the latter route was to be the main one, for Ko-gu-ryŭ would be expecting the attack from the north. The strategem worked like a charm. Mo Yong-han and Mo Yong-p’ă led a powerful army by way of the sea road while General Wang-u led a decoy force by the northern route. The flower of the Ko-gu-ryŭ army, 50,000 strong, marched northward under the king’s brother Mu to meet an imaginary foe while the king with a few undisciplined troops held the other approach. As may be supposed, the capital fell speedily into the enemy’s hands but the king escaped. The Ko-gu-ryŭ forces had been successful in the north and might return any day, so the Yun forces were forbidden to go in pursuit of the king. To insure the good behavior of the king, however, they burned the palace, looted the treasure, exhumed the body of the king’s father and took it, together with the queen and her mother, back to the capital of Yŭn. With such hostages as these Yŭn was safe from that quarter. The next year the king offered his humble apologies and made a complete surrender, in view of which his father’s body and his queen were returned to him but his mother-in-law was still held. The same year Ko-gu-ryŭ moved her capital back to P’yŭng-yang. A few years later by sending his son as substitute he got his mother-in-law out of pawn.

In 344 new complications grew up between Sil-la and 64Japan. The Japanese having already obtained one Sil-la maiden for a queen made bold to ask for a royal princess to be sent to wed their king. This was peremptorily refused and of course war was the result. A Japanese force attacked the Sil-la coastguard but being driven back they harried the island of P‘ung-do and finally worked around until they were able to approach the capital. Finding the gates fast shut they laid siege to the city. But their provisions were soon exhausted and they were compelled to retire. Then the Sil-la forces swarmed out and attacked them in the rear and put them to an ignominious flight. Some years later the Japanese made a similar attempt but were outwitted by the Sil-la soldiers who made manikins of grass to represent soldiers, and the Japanese, seeing these, supposed that Sil-la had been reinforced and so retired from the contest.

Ko-gu-ryŭ had been so severely handled by her northern neighbor that she gave up for the time being her plans of conquest in that direction. Instead of this she turned her attention toward her southern neighbor Păk-je whose territory was a morsel not to be despised. About the year 360 she erected a fort at Ch’i-yang not far from the Păk-je capital which was then at Nam-han. Into this she threw a large force consisting of 20,000 infantry and cavalry. They began a systematic plundering of Păk-je. The army of the latter, under the leadership of the Crown Prince, fell suddenly upon this fort and gained a victory, for, when the Ko-gu-ryŭ forces retired, they left 5,000 dead upon the field. Păk-je followed up this victory by throwing up a line of breastworks along the southern bank of the Han river to insure against a future surprise on the part of her unscrupulous northern neighbor. But Păk-je’s victories had shown her the weakness of Ko-gu-ryŭ and reprisals were therefore in order. She equipped an army of 30,000 men and penetrated the country of the enemy. She met no resistance until her army stood beneath the walls of P‘yŭng-yang. An attempt was made to storm the town, during which the king of Ko-gu-ryŭ was mortally wounded by an arrow, but the assault failed and the Păk-je army withdrew in good order. The king of Păk-je, elated over so many evidences of his growing power, promptly moved his capital across the Han River into Ko-gu-ryŭ territory. Some say he settled 65at Puk-han the great mountain fortress back of Seoul while others say he settled at Nam P’yŭng-yang or “South P’yŭng-yang,” by which is meant the present city of Seoul. Others still say it was at a point a short distance outside the east gate of Seoul. But in spite of the apparent successes of Păk-je it appears that the people were not satisfied. It may be that military exactions had alienated their good will, or it may be that they saw in these ambitious advances the sure presage of speedy punishment at the hands of Ko-gu-ryŭ; but whatever the cause may have been over a thousand people fled from Păk-je and found asylum in Sil-la. The king set aside six villages as their place of residence, and when Păk-je demanded to have them sent back answer was returned that Sil-la could not drive from her borders those who had sought asylum from the ill-treatment of Păk-je.

Three years before this, in 372, the Chinese had gained a signal victory over the Yŭn kingdom and its king, Mo Yong-p’ung, had fled for safety to Ko-gu-ryŭ. It must have been his last resource, for he was likely to find little sympathy there. And so it proved for the king immediately seized him and sent him a captive to China.

The year 372 beheld an event of prime importance in the history of Ko-gu-ryŭ and of the whole peninsula. It was the introduction of Buddhism. It is probable that before this time some knowledge of Buddhism was current in Korea, but as it is eminently a sacerdotal institution but little more than indefinite reports could have been circulated previous to the coming of the monks. We are not told whether this was done at the request of Ko-gu-ryŭ or whether it was at the advice of Pu-gyŭn, one of the petty kings who then divided between them the north of China. Be that as it may, in 372 A.D. images of Buddha were brought by a monk, Sun-do, and also a Buddhist book called Pul-gyŭng. For this the king of Ko-gu-ryŭ returned hearty thanks and forthwith set his son and heir to learning the new doctrine. At the same time he gave an impetus to the study of the Confucian code. It is quite probable that to this new departure is due the fact that the next year the laws of the country were overhauled and put in proper shape for use. In 375 two great monasteries were built in the capital of Ko-gu-ryŭ. They were called Cho-mun 66and I-bul-lan. It should be noticed that the introduction of Buddhism into Korea was a government affair. There had been no propagation of the tenets of this cult through emmisaries sent for the purpose, there was no call for it from the people. In all probability the king and his court were pleased at the idea of introducing the stately ceremonial of the new faith. In fact it was a social event rather than a religious one and from that date to this there has not been a time when the people of Korea have entered heartily into the spirit of Buddhism, nor have her most distinguished representatives understood more than the mere forms and trappings of that religion which among all pagan cults is the most mystical.

Păk-je was not long in following the example of her powerful neighbor. In the year 384 a new king ascended the throne of Păk-je. His name was Ch’im-yu. One of his first acts was to send an envoy to China asking that a noted monk named Mararanta be sent to Păk-je to introduce the Buddhist ritual. We notice that this request was sent to the Emperor Hyo-mu (Hsia-wu), the proper head of the Eastern Tsin dynasty, while Ko-gu-ryŭ had received hers at the hands of one of those petty kings who hung upon the skirts of the weakening dynasty and waited patiently for its dissolution. Each of these petty states, as well as the central government of the Tsin, was on the lookout for promising allies and such a request as this of Păk-je could scarcely be refused. Mararanta, whose name smacks of the south and who certainly cannot have been a Chinaman, was sent to the Păk-je capital. He was received with open arms. His apartments were in the palace where he soon erected a Buddhist shrine. Ten more monks followed him and Buddhism was firmly established in this second of the three Korean states. The greatest deference was paid to these monks and they were addressed by the honorific title To-seung. Sil-la received Buddhism some fifty years later.

All this time fighting was almost continuous along the Ko-gu-ryŭ-Păk-je border. The latter stood on the defensive and found it necessary in 386 to build a line of breastworks along the border, extending from Ch’ŭng-mok-yŭng northward to P’al-gon-sung and thence westward to the sea. An amnesty was brought about through a happy accident. A 67groom who had accidentally broken the leg of a Păk-je prince’s horse had fled to Ko-gu-ryŭ to escape punishment. Returning now to Păk-je, he purchased pardon by informing the king that if, in battle, the Păk-je forces should direct their whole force against that part of the enemy’s line where they should see a red flag flying they would surely be successful. This turned out to be true and Păk-je was once more successful, but followed up her success only to the extent of securing a definite cessation of hostilities and the erection of a boundary stone at Su-gok-sŭng to witness forever against him who should dispute the point. But when King Ch’im-yu of Ko-gu-ryŭ died in 392 and his son Tam-dok came into power all previous obligations were swept away and he proceeded to reopen the wound. He attacked Păk-je fiercely and took ten of her towns. Then he turned northward and chastised the Kŭ-ran tribe. When this was done he came back to the charge again and seized Kwang-nu Fortress. This was an almost inaccessible position on a high rock surrounded by the sea, but the hardy soldiers of Ko-gu-ryŭ after twenty days of siege found seven paths by which the wall could be reached, and they finally took the place by a simultaneous assault at these various points. When the court of Păk-je heard of this well-nigh impossible feat, all hope of victory in the field was taken away, and they could only bar the gates of the capital and await the turn of events. This king, Tam-dok, was as enthusiastically Buddhistic as his father. He made a decree that all the people of Ko-gu-ryŭ should adopt the Buddhistic faith and a few years later built nine more monasteries in P’yŭng-yang.

A year later King A-sin of Păk-je sent his son, Chön-ji, to Japan as an envoy. It is likely, but not certain, that it was a last resource of Păk-je to secure help against Ko-gu-ryŭ. This is the more likely from the fact that he went not only as an envoy but also as a hostage, or a guarantee of good faith. If this was the hope of Păk-je it failed, for no Japanese army was forthcoming. As another means of self-preservation King A-sin formed a great school of archery, but the people did not like it; for exercise in it was compulsory, and many of the people ran away.

In 399 Ko-gu-ryŭ sent an envoy to the Yŭn capital to pay her respects, but the king of that country charged Ko-gu-ryŭ 68with ambitious designs and sent an army of 30,000 men to seize the fortresses of Sin-sŭng and Nam-so, thus delimiting the frontier of Ko-gu-ryŭ to the extent of 700 li. They carried back with them 5,000 “houses,” which means approximately 25,000 people, as captives. It is difficult to believe this enumeration unless we conclude that it means that the people living within the limit of the 700 li were taken to be citizens of Yŭn.

The fifth century of our era dawned upon a troubled Korea. The tension between the three rival powers was severe, and every nerve was strained in the struggle for preeminence. In 402 Nă-mul, the king of Sil-la, died and Sil-sŭng came to the throne. He sent out feelers in two directions, one toward Ko-gu-ryŭ in the shape of a hostage, called by euphemism an envoy, and another of the same sort to Japan; which would indicate that Sil-la was still suffering from the depredations of the Japanese corsairs. The envoy to Ko-gu-ryŭ was the king’s brother, Pok-ho, and the one to Japan was also his brother, Mi-sa-heun. We remember that Păk-je already had an envoy in Japan in the person of the king’s eldest son Chön-ji. Now in 405 the king of Păk-je died. Chön-ji was the rightful heir but as he was in Japan the second son should have assumed the reins of government. As a fact the third son Chŭng-nye killed his brother and seized the scepter. Hearing of his father’s death, Chön-ji returned from Japan with an escort of a hundred Japanese, but learning of his brother’s murder he feared treachery against himself and so landed on an island off the coast where he remained until the people, with a fine sense of justice, drove Ch’ăm-nye from the throne and welcomed back the rightful heir.

Meanwhile interesting events were transpiring in Sil-la. In 403 Sil-sung, King of that land, fearing lest harm overtake his two brothers whom he had sent the year before to Ko-gu-ryŭ and Japan, was seeking for some means of getting them back. This might not be an easy thing to do, for to ask their return so soon would perhaps arouse the suspicion of these neighbors, and precipitate a war. Ko-gu-ryŭ had often taken up arms for a less affront than this. An official, Pak Che-san, volunteered to undertake this delicate mission even though it cost him his life. He went first to Ko-gu-ryŭ 69and there proved so skillful a diplomat that he soon brought Prince Pok-ho back to Sil-la. The mission to Japan was a different matter, but he was equal to the occasion. Before starting out he said to the king: “I will bring the Prince back though it cost my life; only, before I go, I must ask you to imprison my family; otherwise I cannot succeed.” The king acceded to this strange request and Pak Che-san, starting immediately as if in flight, without even changing his garments, fled until he came to the Yul Harbor. Even his wife he repulsed, exclaiming “I have determined to die.” He apparently feared that the sight of her might shake his loyal purpose. He arrived in Japan as a political fugitive, but the king suspected him until news came that his family had been imprisoned. This seemed to prove his statement and he was received graciously. He pretended that he wished to lead a Japanese force against Sil-la. Mi-sa-heun, the Prince whom he had come to rescue, was in the secret and heartily seconded the plan. The king made them joint leaders of an expedition. The fleet arrived at a certain island and there Pak succeeded in spiriting Mi-sa-heun away by night in a little boat while he himself remained behind, to delay the inevitable pursuit. Mi-sa-heun begged him with tears to accompany him but he refused to jeopardise Mi-sa-heun’s chances of escape by so doing. In the morning he pretended to sleep very late and no one suspected the flight of the Prince until late in the day when concealment was no longer possible. When the Japanese found that they had been duped they were in a terrible rage. They bound Pak and went in pursuit of the run-away. But a heavy fog settled upon the sea and frustrated their plan. Then they tortured their remaining victim and to their inquiries he replied that he was a loyal subject of Kye-rim (the name of Sil-la at that time) and that he would rather be a Kye-rim pig than a subject of Japan; that he would rather be whipped like a school-boy in Kye-rim than receive office in Japan. By these taunts he escaped a lingering death by torture. They burned him alive there on the island of Mok-do. When the king of Sil-la heard of his brave end he mourned for him and heaped upon him posthumous honors, and Mi-sa-heun married his preserver’s daughter. The wife of the devoted Pak ascended the pass of Ap-sul-yŭng whence 70she could obtain a distant view of the islands of Japan. There she gave herself up to grief until death put an end to her misery.

In 413 a new king came to the throne of Ko-gu-ryŭ. called Kö-ryŭn. As China and Ko-gu-ryŭ had been kept apart by the intervening Yun, and had acquired some power of sympathy through mutual fear of that power, we are not surprised that the new king of Ko-gu-ryŭ condescended to receive investiture from the Emperor, nor that the latter condescended in turn to grant it. It was formally done, and the act of Ko-gu-ryŭ proclaimed her vassalage to China. From that time on excepting when war existed between them, the kings of Ko-gu-ryŭ were invested by the Emperor with the insignia of royalty. Two years later the Emperor conferred the same honor upon the king of Păk-je. It was always China’s policy to keep the kingdoms at peace with each other so long as they all wore the yoke of vassalage; but so soon as one or the other cast it off it was her policy to keep them at war.

In 417 Nul-ji came to the throne of Sil-la and began a reign that was to last well on toward half a century. He was a regicide. He had been treated very harshly by the king and had more than once narrowly escaped with his life. It is therefore the less surprising, though none the less reprehensible, that when the opportunity presented of paying off old scores he succumbed to the temptation. He ascended the throne not with the title of I-sa-geum, which had been the royal title for centuries, but with the new title of Ma-rip-kan. However doubtful may have been his title to the crown his reign was a strong one. Among the far-reaching effects of his reign the introduction of carts to be drawn by oxen was the most important.

The friendly relations of Ko-gu-ryŭ with the Tsin dynasty were cut short by the extinction of that dynasty in 419 but in 435 Ko-gu-ryŭ made friendly advances toward the Northern Wei dynasty and, finding sufficient encouragement, she transferred her allegience to that power. Meantime Păk-je had transferred hers to the Sung dynasty which arose in 420.

It was in 436 that P’ung-hong, the “Emperor” of Yun, found himself so weak that he could not withstand the pressure 71from the Chinese side and asked the king of Ko-gu-ryŭ to grant him asylum. Consent was given and an escort was sent to conduct him to the Ko-gu-ryŭ capital. He found that this sort of life had its drawbacks; for, to begin with, the king did not address him as emperor but simply as king. This was a great affront to his dignity and, though he was treated very handsomely, he assumed such a supercillious bearing that the king had to curtail his retinue and his income. He had been given quarters in Puk-p’ung and from there the mendicant emperor applied to the Sung Emperor for asylum. It was granted, and seven thousand soldiers came to escort him; but ere they arrived the king of Ko-gu-ryŭ sent two generals, Son-su and Ko-gu, who killed the imperial refugee and nine of his attendants. The Sung troops, arriving on the instant, discovered the crime and caught and executed the two generals who had perpetrated it.

In 449 a Ko-gu-ryŭ general was out on a hunting expedition and the chase brought him into Sil-la territory near the present town of Kang-neung. The prefect of the district, in an excess of patriotic enthusiasm, seized him and put him to death. An envoy came in haste to the Sil-la capital demanding why this outrage had been committed. War would have been declared on the spot had not Sil-la been profuse in apologies. She might have spared herself this humiliation for war was sure to break out soon in any case. When ng came to the throne of Păk-je in 455, Ko-gu-ryŭ took advantage of the confusion, consequent upon the change, to attack her. Sil-la, who, though ordinarily a peaceful power, had been perforce drawn into war-like operations and had acquired some military skill, now sided with Păk-je. Sending a considerable number of troops she reinforced Păk-je to the extent of warding off the threatened invasion. But Păk-je, though glad to find herself extricated from her position of danger, would allow no feelings of gratitude to stand in the way of her ancient feud against Sil-la; so this act of friendship not only did not help toward peace but on the contrary, by showing Sil-la the fickleness of Păk-je, made peace all the more impossible. The middle of the fifth century marks the point when all friendly relations between the three Korean states were broken off and an actual state of war existed between 72them from this time on, though active military operations were not constant. This we may call the Triangular War.

The key to this great struggle, which resulted in the advancement of Sil-la to the control of the whole peninsula, lay not so much in the relative military strength of the three rival kingdoms as in the skill which each developed in diplomacy. Each was trying to gain the active support of China, knowing very well that if China should once become thoroughly interested in favor of any one of the three powers the other two would be doomed.

We will remember that Ko-gu-ryŭ had cultivated friendly relations with the Sung dynasty while Păk-je had made herself agreeable to the Wei dynasty. In this Păk-je chose the wiser part for the Wei power was nearer and more powerful. In 466 Ko-gu-ryŭ lost a splendid opportunity to establish herself in the good graces of the Wei Emperor, and so insure her preeminence in the peninsula. The Emperor Hsien-wen made friendly advances and requested the daughter of the king of Ko-gu-ryŭ for his wife. With a short-sightedness that is quite inexplicable this request was put off by the lame excuse that his daughter was dead. This being easily proved a falsehood, Ko-gu-ryŭ fell from the good graces of the very power whose friendship she should have cultivated.

The year 467 witnessed an important innovation in Korea. Sil-la took the lead in the construction of war vessels. The one made at that time was doubtless intended for use against the Japanese corsairs. That Sil-la had been gaining along military lines is shown by her successful repulse of a Ko-gu-ryŭ invasion in this year, in which the wild people of some of the Mal-gal tribes assisted Ko-gu-ryŭ. After the latter had been driven back, Sil-la built a fortress at Po-eun on her northern border to guard against a repetition of this invasion.

Ko-gu-ryŭ and Păk-je were now exerting themselves to the utmost to make capital out of their Chinese alliances. Ko-gu-ryŭ sent rich presents and richer words to the Sung capital and so won the confidence of that power. Păk-je, on the other hand, sent word to the Wei Emperor that Ko-gu-ryŭ was coquetting with the Sung court and with the wild Mal-gal tribes, insinuating that this was all detrimental to the interests of Păk-je’s patron.

73As this was without result, she sent and asked openly that the Wei Emperor send an army and chastise Ko-gu-ryŭ. The Emperor replied that until Ko-gu-ryŭ committed some overt act of more hostile import than the mere cementing of peaceful alliances no notice could be taken of her. In other words the Wei power refused to be the aggressor, much to Păk-je’s chagrin. The Wei Emperor sent this answer by way of Ko-gu-ryŭ and the king of that country was ordered to grant the messenger a safe conduct through his territory. But Ko-gu-ryŭ, as though bent on self-destruction, refused to let him pass, and so the great northern kingdom approached one step nearer the precipice which was to prove her destruction. Upon learning the news of this affront the Emperor was highly incensed and tried to send the messenger by way of a southern port; but stress of weather rendered this impossible and Păk-je, receiving no answer to her missive, took offense and would have nothing more to do with China, for a time. By the time she had recovered her temper, Ko-gu-ryŭ had in some way patched up her difficulty with the Wei court and so scored a point against Păk-je. And for a time she was on friendly terms with both the Wei and Sung dynasties.

At this point Ko-gu-ryŭ decided upon a bold attempt to swallow Păk-je bodily. It was to be done partly by strategem and partly by force. A monk of Ko-gu-ryŭ named To-rim, a fellow of excellent craft, arrived at the Păk-je capital as if seeking refuge. The king received him with open arms and, finding him an excellent chess player, made him his trusty councilor. This monk told the king that the palaces, walls, tombs and public buildings ought to be thoroughly repaired, and so induced him to drain the public treasury in this work, and also in bringing a huge monolith from Uk-nyi to the capital. This done the monk fled back to Ko-gu-ryŭ and announced that the treasury of Păk-je was empty and it was a good time to attack her. A large army was put in the field, guided by one Kŭl-lu, a Păk-je fugitive from justice. Almost before Păk-je was aware, her capital was surrounded. She had applied to Sil-la for help, but too late. First the suburbs were laid in ashes, and then access being gained, the palace was fired. The king fled with ten attendants out the west gate, but Kŭl-lu the renegade followed and overtook him. 74The king begged for mercy upon his knees but Kŭl-lu spit thrice in his face, bound him and sent him to the fortress of A-han where lie was killed. Then the Ko-gu-ryŭ army went back north carrying with them 8,000 captives, men and women.

Meanwhile Prince Mun-ju had obtained help from Sil-la and with 10,000 troops was hastening homewards. He found the city in ashes, his father dead, the people mourning their lost, who had been dragged away captive. He promptly assumed control of affairs, moved the capital southward to Ung-jin the present Kong-ju, took all the Păk-je people away from Han-yang (Seoul) and moved them back across the Han River and abandoned all the territory beyond that natural barrier to Ko-gu-ryŭ to whom it had originally belonged. The following year he tried to send a message to the Sung Emperor by way of Ko-gu-ryŭ but the messenger was intercepted and the message stopped.

Chapter X

Quelpart.... origin of T’am-na.... new alliances.... advances in Sil-la.... but not in Păk-je nor Ko-gu-ryŭ.... temporary peace.... Buddhism in Sil-la.... remnants of barbarism.... influence of Chinese literature.... important reforms.... Ko-gu-ryŭ’s foreign relations.... conquest of Dagelet Island.... posthumous titles.... colors in official grades.... Wei displeased.... the “miracle” of Yi Cha-don.... end of Ka-rak.... Sil-la rejects Chinese calendar.... confusion in China.... Păk-je attempts reform.... history of Sil-la.... two alliances.... Păk-je and Ko-gu-ryŭ envoys to China.... advance of Buddhism in Sil-la.... music in Sil-la.... war between Păk-je and Sil-la.... retrogression in Sil-la because of Buddhism.... Ko-gu-ryŭ and the Sui Emperor.... the Ondali.

Tradition says that in the dawn of history when the island of Che-ju (Quelpart) was covered only with a tangled forest three sages arose from a crevice in the ground. This spot is shown to this day by the people of Che-ju. These three men were Ko-ŭlla, Yang-ŭlla and Pu-ŭlla. As they stood upon the shore they saw three stout chests floating in from the south-east. Drawing them to land and opening them the three wise men discovered that each chest contained 75a calf, a colt, a dog, a pig and a woman, together with sundry seeds, such as beans, wheat, barley, millet and rice. By the three families thus organised the island was populated. During the early days of Sil-la a certain court astrologer announced that the “Friend Star” was visible in the south and that a distinguished visitor would soon arrive. Soon after this three men came by boat from Quelpart, landing at the harbor of T’am-jin, now Kang-jin. They came straight to the court of Sil-la where they were hospitably entertained. One of the visitors was Ko-hu, one was Ko-ch’ŭng, but the name of the third is lost. The king called the first Sŭng-ju or “Lord of the Star,” the second Wang-ja or “King’s Son” and the third To-nă or “The One who has Come.” He named their country T’am from the name of the port where they landed, and na, which seems to have meant “Kingdom”, for we find that the last syllable of Sil-la is this same na changed by euphonic laws to la. It is the root of the present Korean word na-ra or “kingdom.” So the kingdom was called T’am-na. The authorities are at a loss to tell the date or even the reign during which these events transpired. In the year 477 the little kingdom of T’am-na sent an envoy to the court of Păk-je with gifts. This is the first really authentic mention of the place. If tradition is of any value it must be confessed that the story of the peopling of Quelpart points toward a southern origin.

In 479 the aged king of Ko-gu-ryŭ, Kö-ryŭn, now in the sixty-eighth year of his reign, sought and obtained recognition from Emperor Ko-je (Kao-ti) the founder of the Ch’i dynasty in China. That this occurred in the very first year after the founding of that dynasty shows how sedulously Ko-gu-ryŭ was cultivating the good-will of the Chinese. Păk-je was not far behind, for she swore allegiance to the same Emperor only two years later.

During all these years it is to Sil-la that we must look for any signs of internal improvement, any of those innovations which are the mile-stones of progress. We saw above how she introduced the use of the cart and so raised a great burden from the shoulders of the people. The wheel is the great burden bearer of history. And now we find her introducing further reforms. The first was the horse relay 76system called the yong-ma. It did not bear so directly upon the condition of the people but it afforded an opportunity for the rapid transmission of official information and thus indirectly had an important bearing upon the welfare of the masses. In the next place, she organised a general market where at stated intervals merchants from the various districts could meet and exchange commodities. These are things that we look upon as matters of course and we do not realise their importance till we imagine ourselves deprived of the comforts that spring from the possibility of rapid communication and exchange of commodities. That Ko-gu-ryŭ had not made similar advances in the line of industrial reform is shown by the fact that when the Emperor of the Wei dynasty sent to grant investiture to Na-un the twenty-first king of Ko-gu-ryŭ in 499 he presented him with suits of clothes, flags, a crown and a cart. This shows that carts were not as yet in common use in Ko-gu-ryŭ. As for Păk-je, disaster was following upon disaster. At one time a thousand people were swept away in a flood. Then famine carried away three thousand. A few years later ten thousand people passed over into Sil-la to save themselves from starvation.

The sixth century dawned upon a comparatively peaceful Korea; for the time being the dogs of war were held in leash and feuds seem to have been laid on the shelf. The three kingdoms employed their time in different but characteristic ways. The king of Păk-je built an enormous pleasure-house and adorned it with all manner of curious flowers and animals. To the expostulations of his ministers he turned a deaf ear. A few years later he was murdered by one of his courtiers. In truth, peace was nearly as bad for Păk-je as war.

In Sil-la Buddhism had been introduced during the reign of Nul-ji, 417-458. A monk named Muk Ho-ja had been well received and was lodged in the palace. But, at the first, Buddhism did not find congenial soil in Sil-la. Tradition gives the following account of the first set-back which it suffered there. In 502 while the king was idling an hour away in a favorite summer-house outside the city, a raven appeared bearing in its beak a letter. It laid the missive at the king’s feet and flew away. The superscription said “If the king opens and reads this note two people will die; if he 77does not open it one will die”. He determined not to open it, but one of his attendants said, “The one referred to is Your Majesty and therefore you should open it even though two lives are sacrificed”. He broke the seal and read the strange words “Let the king take his trustiest bow, hasten to the palace and shoot an arrow through the zither case”. The king obeyed the mandate, hastened back to the palace by a private gate, entered the queen’s apartments unannounced and shot an arrow through a zither case that stood against the wall. The arrow pierced the zither case and the High Priest who was hidden behind it. The latter had taken advantage of the king’s absence to attack his honor. He was strangled together with the guilty queen.

With all her attempts at progress some evidences of the grossest barbarity still lingered in Sil-la. It was not, so the records tell us, until the year 503 that Sil-la discontinued the horrible custom of burying people alive when a king’s body was interred. It had been customary to bury five boys and five girls alive on such occasions, but in 503 the king published a decree forbidding the continuance of the custom. The very barbarity of the custom renders its abolition the more striking and places the name of king Chi-jeung, the twenty-second of his line, among the names of Korea’s benefactors. At the same time the custom of plowing with oxen was introduced, an innovation that had a most far-reaching effect upon society. It was in the beginning of the sixth century that Sil-la began to show evidences of the influence of Chinese literature and thought. In 504 she adopted the Chinese word Wang as the title of her kings in place of the pure Korean words I-sa-geum or Ma-rip-kan. She also changed the name of the kingdom from Kye-rim to Sil-la. We have been speaking of this kingdom under the name Sil-la but as a matter of fact it was not so designated until the year 504 A.D. Before that time it had been variously styled Sŭ-ya-bŭl, Sa-ro, and Kye-rim. The word Sil-la is said to have been composed of the Chinese words Sin and ra, which when united become Sil-la according to Korean laws of euphony. It is more than probable that it was merely an adaptation of Chinese characters to pure Korean words, for the last syllable la or na is the same as that used in other words, centuries before that time, 78in southern Korea. The na of T’am-na is the same character. To the word Sil-la was added the word Kuk or “kingdom” which put her in line with the other vassals of China. The Confucian code must have been making headway too, for in the following year the custom was adopted of assuming a mourning garb for three years upon the death of a parent. It was at this time that the influence of China upon Korea began to bear its legitimate fruit. Chinese religion, literature, government and art were beginning to mould the thought and life of the Korean people. Many Chinese words had been introduced into Korea before this time but the use of the Chinese character had not been general.

In the mean time Ko-gu-ryŭ had been paying attention not so much to internal reforms as to external alliances. She sent to the Wei Emperor begging him to remit the revenue in gold and jade, as they were obtained, the one in Pu-yŭ, which she claimed the Mal-gal savages had seized, and the other in Sŭp-na which she averred the wicked Păk-je had feloniously taken. But she added “Of course all that Ko-gu-ryŭ has is yours”. The Emperor good-naturedly remitted the revenue but urged his vassal to continue the good work of subduing the wild tribes of the peninsula. It is said that in a single year Ko-gu-ryŭ sent three separate embassies to the Wei court. At the same time she was coquetting, sub rosa, with the new Liang power which had arisen in 502. In this Păk-je of course followed suite. We thus see that the three kingdoms spent their time in different ways; Sil-la in internal improvement, Păk-je in self-gratification and Ko-gu-ryŭ in strengthening her foreign relations.

In the year 512 the kingdom of U-san was added to the crown of Sil-la. This was the little island of Dagelet, off the eastern coast of Korea, about opposite the prefecture of Kang-neung. How Sil-la happened to branch out in a policy of conquest we are not told, but having decided to do so she did it very neatly. The expedition was led by Gen. Yi Sa-bu. He ordered the construction of several lions with gaping mouths and enormous fangs. They were carved from wood. He placed one of these in the prow of each of the boats and when the little flotilla approached the shores of the island 79the natives were called upon to lay down their arms and surrender, or the lions would be set loose among them and would tear them to pieces. This, it is averred, brought the trembling islanders to their knees at once and Sil-la won a bloodless victory. This is among the most cherished traditions of the Korean people.

With the accession of Wŭn-jong to the throne of Sil-la in 514 the Chinese custom of conferring a posthumous title upon a deceased king was introduced for the first time into Korea. Long before this the custom had prevailed in Ko-gu-ryŭ of naming a dead king after the place in which he was buried but to the very last the Ko-gu-ryŭ kings did not receive posthumous honorific titles. Păk-je however followed Sil-la’s example ten years later.

King Pŭp-heung of Sil-la in 520 reorganised the official list and indicated the different grades of rank by different colors. The grades called t’a-do, kak-kan and ta-a-son wore lavender. Those called a-son and keup-son, wore red, and carried the ivory memo tablets that are common today. The ta-na-ma and the na-ma wore blue. The ta-sa and sun-jo-ji wore hats of silk, shaped like the broad-brimmed, round crowned hats of the chair-coolie of the present day. The pa-jin-son and the ta-a-son wore red silk hats. The sang-dang, chuk-wi and ta-sa wore red hat strings. The kaleidoscopic colors of a royal Korean procession of today indicate what a prominent role the love of color plays in the oriental temperament.

The Wei power in China was not pleased with the friendship that was springing up between Ko-gu-ryŭ and the Liang court. This came to a climax when she stopped a Liang envoy who was on his way to Ko-gu-ryŭ to confer investiture upon the king. It may be that Ko-gu-ryŭ realised that the Wei dynasty was waning to its close and that it was well to cultivate the good-will of the young and rising Liang power; but if so the forecast was false for the Liang power outlived the Wei only twenty-four years.

The year 524 gave Sil-la Buddhism a new lease of life. Its most celebrated representative was a monk named Muk Ho-ja who lived about the middle of the fifth century. Coming 80from Ko-gu-ryŭ he had settled at the town of Il-sŭng-gun where a Sil-la citizen had made him a cave dwelling. The king of Sil-la received a gift of incense from China, but did not know how to use it till this monk Muk Ho-ja showed him how. He told the king to burn it and ask anything of the spirits, and they would grant it. The king’s daughter was very ill at the time and the king burned the incense and asked that his daughter be healed. The story says that she immediately arose from her bed a well woman. This of course gave Buddhism a long start. Since that time, as we have seen, Buddhism had suffered a severe drawback in the person of the wicked monk who was discovered in the act of abusing his sacerdotal function. It had recovered from that shock however and had again assumed large proportions in the state of Sil-la. The king had come so completely under the influence of the monks that now in 524 the courtiers feared that their power would be seriously threatened. They therefore used every means to induce the king to moderate his views. The king gave his reluctant assent to the execution of the high priest, Yi Cha-don. Tradition says that when he was brought to execution he exclaimed “When you slay me, my blood will flow not red like blood but white as milk and then you will know that Buddhism is true.” And so it proved, for when his head was severed from the trunk his blood flowed white like milk. None could gainsay this evidence and from that day Buddhism advanced with rapid steps. The following year the king made a law against the killing of animals.

The kingdom of Ka-rak had existed side by side with Sil-la on terms of mutual friendship for four hundred and eighty-two years, but in 527 her king, Kim Ku-hyŭng, gave up his sovereign power and merged his kingdom into that of Sil-la. He was however retained at the head of the Ka-rak state under appointment by the king of Sil-la. It does not appear from the scanty records that this was other than a peaceful change. Ka-rak had long seen the growing power of Sil-la and doubtless recognised that more was to be gained by becoming part of that kingdom than by standing aloof and running the chance of becoming disputed territory between the rival powers of the peninsula. She had been founded in 8141 A.D. and now she came to an end in 527, so her lease of life seems to have been four hundred and eighty-six years rather than four hundred and eighty-two as the records state. As the dates of her beginning and end are both taken from the records the discrepancy must be laid at the door of the recorder.

About this time Sil-la discovered that it was useless to cultivate the friendship of the Chinese powers. The Chinese territory was divided into a number of petty kingdoms and more were on the eve of being founded. None of them had strength enough to hold her own against the others, much less to be of any avail in case of trouble in the peninsula. Perhaps it was for this reason that in 535 Sil-la rejected the Chinese calendar and named the year according to a plan of her own. In China the Liang dynasty, the Northern Wei, and the Eastern Wei were all in the field, while the Ch’en, the Northern Ch’i, the Northern Chu and the Sui dynasties were just about to make their appearance and all to pass away like summer clouds before the power of the mighty T’ang.

About the year 540 Păk-je moved her capital again; this time it was to Sa-ja the site of the present prefecture of Pu-yŭ in the province of Ch’ung-ch’ŭng. She seems to have had some aspirations after better things, for in 541 she sent to the Liang court asking that books of poetry, teachers of literature, Buddhist books, artisans and picture painters be sent to help in creating a taste for literature and art in that country. The request was granted.

The year 543 marks an important event in the life of Sil-la. The history of that country existed as yet only in the form of notes, but now the king ordered that a congress of the best scholars of the land set to work compiling a proper history under the leadership of the great scholar Kim-gŭ Ch’il-bu. We will notice that this was about two hundred years before the earliest date that is set for the publication of the Japanese work entitled the Kojiki. And it should be noticed likewise that this history of Sil-la was not a collection of myths and stories only, but a proper history, worked up from government records which a certain degree of knowledge of Chinese had rendered the officials capable of making and transmitting. One needs but to compare the Kojiki with the 82Sam-guk-sa or “History of the Three Kingdoms” founded on these records to see how immeasurably the latter excels the former as a source of accurate historical evidence.

It was about this time that the wild tribes of the Mal-gal and Ye-măk began to realise that the continued progress of Păk-je and Sil-la meant extinction for themselves. So in 547 they joined Ko-gu-ryŭ in an attack upon Păk-je; but Sil-la and Ka-ya rendered aid to Păk-je and the northern allies were driven back. From this time on, during a period of several years, Ko-gu-ryŭ, Ye-măk and Mal-gal were allies, and Sil-la, Păk-je and Ka-ya were allies; a sort of dual arrangement, which preserved a nice equilibrium in the peninsula.

In 549 the king of Păk-je sent an envoy to present his compliments to the Liang Emperor. When he arrived at the capital of the Liang power he found the palace in ashes and the reins of government in the hands of the usurper Hu-gyŭng; so he took his stand before the Tan-mun (gate) and wept aloud from morning till night. The passers-by, hearing his story, stopped and wept with him. This of course did not please the usurper, and the envoy was seized and thrown into prison where he stayed until the rebellion was put down and the Emperor returned. As the Ch’i dynasty arose in 550 we are not surprised to learn that Ko-gu-ryŭ sent an envoy immediately to do obeisance and get into the good graces of the new power.

It must be confessed that meantime Buddhism had been making rapid strides in Sil-la. Monasteries had been erected and the new cult was winning its way into the hearts of the people. In 551 the public teaching of the eight laws of Buddhism against (1) the slaughter of animals, (2) theft. (3) licentiousness, (4) lying, (5) drunkenness, (6) ambition, (7) the eating of garlic, (8) levity, was decreed.

It is probable that the art of music was not highly developed at this time but in 552 the king of Sil-la sent three men to the Ka-ya country to learn music from a celebrated master named U Reuk; but that learned man had come to realise that Ka-ya was doomed and, taking his twelve-stringed instrument under his arm he went with his disciple Ni Mun to the court of Sil-la. The three men, Pŭp-ji, Kye-go and Man-dok, whom the king had appointed to study music, entered 83upon their duties under this mail’s tutelage. One of them studied singing, another the use of the instrument and a third dancing. When they had perfected themselves in these ornamental arts they proposed to alter some of the songs, on the plea that they were too licentious, but old U Reuk violently objected to expurgated editions of his works, and so it was stopped. From that time music became very popular and in many cases students of this great branch of art went among the mountains and spent years in practice. The instrument was called a Ka-ya-geum from Ka-ya where it originated. It is now called the ka-go and is shaped like a Korean zither but is smaller. Among the favorite songs that have come down to the present time are “The Ascent of the Mountain,” “The Descent of the Mountain,” “The Rustling Bamboo,” “The Stork Dance,” “The Blowing Wind” and “The Monastery on the Mountain.” But music was not the only art that flourished, for we are gravely told that an artist painted a tree on the wall of “Yellow Dragon Monastery” with such skill that birds tried to alight on its branches.

In 555 war broke out between Sil-la and Păk-je. We are not told its cause but Sil-la was victorious and added to her territory a large tract of country along the eastern side of Păk-je, which she erected into a prefecture under the name of Wan-san-ju (now Chŭn-ju). One authority says that in this war Păk-je lost one half of her territory to Sil-la. It seems that Sil-la had by this time developed the taste for diplomatic intercourse with China. Frequent embassies were sent on the long and costly journey. Each of the three powers sent two and three times a year to one or other of the various Chinese courts. The Emperor of the Ch’i dynasty sent Sil-la great store of Buddhistic books. It is said that as many as 1700 volumes were sent at one time.

When Păk-jong ascended the throne of Sil-la in 570 the Buddhistic tendencies had begun to bear their legitimate fruits. The king was so given over to it that he became a monk and the queen became a nun. All thought of progress seems to have been given up and the revenues were squandered in sending useless embassies to China. The style of Buddhism prevalent in Sil-la is illustrated by the fact that in the second 84year of this reign the minister of war took the king severely to task for spending so much time in the chase, though the killing of animals is the first prohibition of the Buddhist law. Tradition says that this faithful minister, Hu-jik, plead in vain, and finally, when dying, asked to be buried near the road the king usually took when going to hunt. It was done and the king when passing the grave heard a noise of warning proceeding from it. When he was told that it was the faithful but neglected Hu-jik, the king determined on the spot that he would reform, and so the faithful minister did more by his death than by his life.

It was in the year 586 that Ko-gu-ryŭ again moved her capital northward to the old place near the present Eui-ju. Soon after this the Tsin dynasty in China fell before the victorious Sui, and Ko-gu-ryŭ, who had been friendly with the Tsin but had never cultivated the Sui, was left in an extremely delicate position. She immediately began preparations for repelling a Sui invasion. The Emperor however had no such intentions and sent a swift messenger chiding the king for his unjust suspicions and opening the way for a friendly understanding. This seemed a little strained to the king and he feared treachery; so, while he greatly desired to send an envoy, he hardly ventured to do so.

One of the famous traditions of Korea centers about this king. His daughter when of tender years cried so much that on one occasion the king impatiently exclaimed “When you grow up you cannot marry a man of the nobility but we will marry you to an ondali.” Now an ondali is a very ignorant, foolish fellow, a boor. When the girl reached a marriageable age the king who had forgotten all about his threat was for marrying her to a high noble but the girl called to his remembrance the words he had spoken and said she would marry no one but an ondali. The king bound ten golden hairpins to her arm and drove the away from the palace. She fled to the hut of an ondali on the outskirts of the town but he was away in the hills gathering elm bark to eat. His mother, old and blind, said “You smell of perfume and your hands are soft and smooth. My boy is only an ignorant ondali and no match for you.” Without answering, the maiden hastened to the hills and found the boy, but he thought her a spirit and took 85to his heels and ran home as fast as he could go. She followed and slept before his door that night. At last the youth comprehended the situation and accepted the hand of the princess. With the ten golden hairpins she set him up in the horse-raising business. He bought the broken-down palace ponies and by careful treatment made them sound and fleet again. In the chase he always led the rout and when the King asked who he might be the answer was “Only an ondali.” From this the youth advanced until he became a famous general and had the honor of defeating a Chinese army in Liao-tung. He was killed during an invasion of Sil-la but no one was able to lift his dead body till his wife came and knelt beside it saying “The dead and living are separated.” Then it was lifted and carried back to Ko-gu-ryŭ.

Chapter XI. Ko-gu-ryŭ relations with the Sui court.... Ko-gu-ryŭ suspected.... takes the offensive.... submits.... the Emperor suspicious.... the great Chinese invasion.... Chinese allies.... Ko-gu-ryŭ’s allies.... Chinese cross the Liao.... go into camp.... naval expedition.... defeated at P‘yŭng-yang.... routes of the Chinese army.... Ko-gu-ryŭ spy.... Ko-gu-ryŭ lures the Chinese on.... pretense of surrender.... Chinese retreat.... terrible slaughter.... Păk-je neutral.... second invasion.... siege of Liao-tung fortress.... Chinese retire.... and give up the contest.... treaty with the T’ang Emperor.... triangular war renewed.... China neutral.... guerilla warfare.... first woman sovereign.... Păk-je retrogrades.... attacks Sil-la.... Păk-je’s terrible mistake.... Chinese spy.... rise of Hap So-mun.... the tortoise and the rabbit.... Taoism introduced.... China finally sides with Sil-la.... and announces her program.... preparations for war.... the invasion.... siege of Liao-tung Fortress.... siege of An-si Fortress.... Chinese retire.

We have seen that Ko-gu-ryŭ did not respond freely to the friendly advances of the Sui power in China. Although a Sui envoy came and conferred investiture upon the king in 590, yet the relations were not cordial. Something was lacking. A mutual suspicion existed which kept them both on the watch for signs of treachery. But two years later the king did obeisance to the Emperor and was apparently taken 86into his good graces. And now the net began to be drawn about Ko-gu-ryŭ. Her position had always been precarious. She was the largest of the peninsular kingdoms and the nearest to China. She was also nearest to the wild tribes who periodically joined in an attempt to overthrow the Chinese ruling dynasty. So Ko-gu-ryŭ was always more or less suspected of ulterior designs and she seems to have realised it, for she always sedulously cultivated the good-will of the Emperors. She knew very well that with Sil-la and Păk-je, hereditary enemies, at her back, the day when she fell under the serious suspicion of any strong dynasty in China would be her day of doom. And so it proved in the end. She had now thoroughly alienated the good-will and aroused the suspicions of the Sui Emperor; Sil-la and Păk-je were in his good graces, and stirring times were at hand. These two rival powers sent envoys to China urging the Emperor to unite with them in invading Ko-gu-ryŭ and putting an end to her once for all. To this the Emperor assented. Ko-gu-ryŭ knew that the fight was on and, being the warlike power that she was, she boldly determined to take the offensive. Drawing on her faithful allies the Mal-gal for 10,000 troops she despatched these, together with her own army, to western Liao-tung and across the river Liao, where the town of Yŭng-ju was attacked and taken. This was her declaration of war. The Emperor in 598 proclaimed the royal title withdrawn from the king of Ko-gu-ryŭ and an army of 300,000 men was put in motion toward the frontier. At the same time a naval expedition was fitted out. But reverses occurred; storms by sea and bad management of the commissariat by land rendered the expedition a failure. It opened the eyes of the Ko-gu-ryŭ king however and he saw that the Emperor was fully determined upon his destruction. He saw but one way to make himself safe and that was by abject submission. He therefore hastened to tell the Emperor, “I am a base and worthless subject, vile as ordure,” which was received by the Emperor with considerable complaisancy, and a show of pardon was made; but it was probably done only to keep Ko-gu-ryŭ from active preparations until China could equip a much larger army and put it in the field. Păk-je, who did not like to see affairs brought to a halt at this interesting juncture, sent an 87envoy to China offering to act as guide, to lead a Chinese army against the foe. When Ko-gu-ryŭ learned of this her anger knew no bounds and she began to make reprisals upon Păk-je territory.

About this time the Sui Emperor had business in the north. The Tol-gwŭl tribe needed chastisement. When the Chinese forces entered the chief town of the humbled tribe they found a Ko-gu-ryŭ emissary there. This fed the Emperor’s suspicions for it looked as if Ko-gu-ryŭ were preparing a league of the wild tribes for the purpose of conquest. He therefore sent to Ko-gu-ryŭ saying “The king should not be afraid of me. Let him come himself and do obeisance. If not, I shall send and destroy him.” We may well imagine that this pressing invitation was declined by the king.

The last year of the sixth century witnessed the compilation of the first great history of Ko-gu-ryŭ, in 100 volumes. It was named the Yu-geui or “Record of Remembrance.”

It took China some years to get ready for the carrying out of her plan, but at last in 612 began one of the mightiest military movements in history. China massed upon the western bank of the Liao River an army of 1,130,000 men. There were forty regiments of cavalry and eighty of infantry. The army was divided into twenty-four battalions, marching with an interval of forty li between each, so that the entire army stretched for 960 li or 320 miles along the road. Eighty li in the rear came the Emperor with his body-guard.

When this enormous army reached the banks of the Liao they beheld on the farther bank the soldiers of Ko-gu-ryŭ. Nothing can better prove the hardihood of the Ko-gu-ryŭ soldiery than that, when they saw this well-nigh innumerable host approach, they dared to dispute the crossing of the river.

The Chinese army was composed of Chinese regulars and of allies from twenty-four of their dependencies whose names are given as follows. Nu-bang, Chang-jam, Myŭng-hă, Kă-ma, Kön-an, Nam-so, Yo-dong, Hyŭn-do, Pu-yŭ, Nang-nang, Ok-jŭ, Chŭm-sŭn, Ham-ja, Hon-mi, Im-dun, Hu-sŭng, Che-hă, Tap-don, Suk-sin, Kal-sŭk, Tong-i, Tă-bang and Yang-p’yŭng. One would suppose from this long list that there could be few left to act as allies to Ko-gu-ryŭ, but when we remember that the Mal-gal group of tribes was by far the 88most powerful and warlike of all the northern hordes we will see that Ko-gu-ryŭ was not without allies. In addition to this, Ko-gu-ryŭ had two important factors in her favor; in summer the rains made the greater part of Liao-tung impassable either for advance or retreat, and in winter the severity of the weather rendered military operations next to impossible. Only two courses were therefore open to an invading army; either it must make a quick dash into Ko-gu-ryŭ in the spring or autumn and retire before the summer rains or winter storms, or else it must be prepared to go into camp and spend the inclement season in an enemy’s country, cut off from its base of supplies. It was in the spring that this invasion took place and the Emperor was determined to carry it through to a finish in spite of summer rains or winter storms.

No sooner had the Chinese army reached the Liao River than the engineers set to work bridging the stream. So energetically was the work done that in two days a double span was thrown across. There had been a miscalculation however, for it fell six feet short of reaching the eastern bank, and the Ko-gu-ryŭ soldiers were there to give them a warm welcome. The Chinese troops leaped from the unfinished end of the bridge and tried to climb up the steep bank, but were again and again driven back. The eastern bank was not gained until Gen Măk Chŭl-jang leaped to the shore and mowed a path for his followers with his sword. At this point the Ko-gu-ryŭ generals Chön Sa-ung and Măng Keum-ch’a were killed.

When the whole army had effected a crossing the Emperor sent 1200 troops to occupy the fortified town of Liao-tung but the Ko-gu-ryŭ general, Eul-ji Mun-dŭk, hastened thither and drove back this detachment of Chinese in confusion. The Emperor learned of the retreat and proceeded toward the scene of action. When he came up with the flying detachments of his defeated force he severely reprimanded the generals in charge and chided them for being lazy and afraid of death. But it was now late in June and the rainy season was at hand, so the Emperor with his whole army went into camp at Yuk-hap Fortress a little to the west of the town of Liao-tung, to await the end of the wet season.

He was unwilling however to let all this time pass without any active work; so he sent a fleet of boats by sea to sail 89up the Ta-dong River and attack P’yüng-yang. This was under the leadership of Gen. Nă Ho-a. Landing his force on the bank of the Ta-dong, sixty li below the city, he enjoyed there a signal victory over a small force which had been sent to head him off. This made the general over-confident and in spite of the protests of his lieutenants he marched on P‘yŭng-yang without an hour’s delay. With twenty thousand troops he went straight into the town, the gates being left wide open for him. This was a ruse on the part of the Ko-gu-ryŭ forces. A strong body of Ko-gu-ryŭ troops had hidden in a monastery in Nă-gwak Fort on the heights within the city. The Chinese found themselves entrapped and Gen. Nă was forced to beat a hasty retreat with what forces he had left, and at last got back to Hă-p’o (harbor) in Liao-tung. What the Emperor said to him is not known but it could not have been flattering.

The rainy season had now come and gone and the main plan of the invasion was ready to be worked out. It was necessary for the Emperor to spread out his force over the country in order to find forage, and so, in approaching the borders of Ko-gu-ryŭ, it was decided that they should come by several different routes. Gen. U Mun-sul led a detachment by way of Pu-yŭ, Gen. U Chung-mun by way of Nang-nang, Gen. Hyŭng Wŭn-hang by way of Yo-dong, Gen. Sŭl Se-ung by way of Ok-jŭ, Gen. Sin Se-ung by way of Hyŭn-do, Gen. Chang Keun by way of Yang-p’yăng, Gen. Cho Hyo-jă by way of Kal-sŭk, Gen. Ch’oe Hong-seung by way of Su-sung, Gen. Wi Mun-seung by way of Cheung-ji. It is said that they all rendezvoused on the western bank of the Yalu River, but if so there must have been great changes in the position of these wild tribes. It is more than probable that like the North American Indians they had moved further and further back from their original lands until they were far beyond the Yalu and Tumen rivers.

In the early autumn of 612 the whole army lay just east of the Yalu River.

The king of Ko-gu-ryŭ sent Gen. Eul-ji Mun-dŭk to the Chinese camp to tender the Emperor a pretense of surrender but in reality to spy out his position and force. When he appeared the Emperor was minded to kill him on the spot 90but thought better of it and, after listening to what he had to say, let him go. Not an hour after he had gotten beyond the Chinese pickets the Emperor changed his mind again and sent in pursuit of him; but the general had too good a start and made too good use of his time to allow himself to be retaken.

And now appeared one of the disadvantages of being far from one’s base of supplies, and in an enemy’s country. Some weeks before this each Chinese soldier had been given three bags of rice and told that he must carry them on the march, besides his other necessary accoutrements. Death was to the penalty of throwing any of it away. The result was that most of them buried a large part of the rice in their tents and so escaped detection. Now they were short of provisions, while the generals thought their knapsacks were full of rice. The Ko-gu-ryŭ Gen. Eul-ji, who had been in their camp, however, knew about it. He entered upon a geurilla warfare with the object of luring the enemy far into Ko-gu-ryŭ territory and then cutting them to pieces at leisure. To this end he made a feigned retreat several times each day, thus giving the enemy confidence and blinding them to his own strength. It was decided that a Chinese force of 305,000 men under Gen. U Chung-mun should proceed straight to P’yŭng-yang. It seemed wholly unnecessary that the whole army of 1,130,000 men should undergo that long march when only a pusillanimous enemy barred the way.

On they came toward the capital without meeting anything but a few skirmishers, until they reached the Sal-su, a stream only thirty li from P’yŭng-yang. Crossing this the Chinese went into camp for a few days to recover from the fatigue of the rapid march before attacking the town.

At this point Gen. Eul-ji began operations. He wrote a very humble letter sueing for mercy. When the Chinese general received this, his course of reasoning must have been something as follows: “My forces are completely exhausted by this long march; the provisions are almost gone; I shall find the capital defended by desperate men; it may be that I shall be handled as roughly as were the forces of Gen. Nă. I will accept this submission and start back in time to reach the Yalu before my provisions are entirely gone. I will thus spare my army and gain the desired end as well.”

91Whether this was his course of reasoning or not, sure it is that he accepted the submission tendered him and put his army in motion toward the Yalu. But before his forces had gone a mile they found themselves attacked on all sides at once by an unseen foe which seemed to fill the forests on either side the road. When half the army had gotten across the Sal-su the other half was fiercely attacked and cut to pieces or driven like dumb cattle over the face of the country, where they were butchered at leisure. The retreat became a flight, the flight a rout, and still the Ko-gu-ryŭ soldiers hung on their flanks like wolves and dragged them down by scores and hundreds. It is said that in a single day and night the fugitive Chinese covered four hundred and fifty li, and when the remnant of that noble army of 305,000 men that had swept across the Yalu went back across that historic stream it was just 2700 strong. Over 300,000 men had perished along the hill-sides and among the forests of Ko-gu-ryŭ. The Emperor in anger imprisoned the over-confident Gen. U Chung-mun.

Meanwhile what of Păk-je? She had promised that she would rise and strike Ko-gu-ryŭ simultaneously with the Emperor, but when the moment for action came, like the paltroon that she was, she waited to see which side would be most likely to win in the end. When the Chinese fled back to the border in panic Păk-je quietly stacked her arms and said nothing about attacking her neighbor.

Winter was now at hand, or would be before another plan could be perfected and carried out. The army was without provisions. There was nothing left but to retreat. The Chinese army, still a mighty host, moved slowly back across the Liao River and Ko-gu-ryŭ was left to her own pleasant musings. All that China gained was that portion of Ko-gu-ryŭ lying west of the Liao River, which the Emperor erected into three prefectures.

If Ko-gu-ryŭ flattered herself that her troubles were all over she was wofully mistaken. With the opening of spring the Emperor’s determination to humble her was as strong as ever. All the courtiers urged him to give over the attempt. They had seen enough of Ko-gu-ryŭ. The Emperor, however, was firm in his determination, and in the fourth moon another army was launched against the hardy little kingdom 92to the east. It crossed the Liao without opposition but when it arrived at Tong-whang Fortress, near the present Eui-ju, it attempted in vain to take it. The Emperor decided therefore to make a thorough conquest of all the Liao-tung territory and delimit the possessions of Ko-gu-ryŭ as far as the Yalu River, To this end siege was laid to the Fortress of Liao-tung. After twenty days the town was still intact and the Chinese seemingly as far from victory as ever. Ladders were tried but without effect. A bank of earth was thrown up as high as the wall of the town, but this too failed. Platforms of timber were erected and rolled up to the wall on trucks of eight wheels each. This seemed to promise success but just as the attempt was to be made fortune favored Ko-gu-ryŭ, for news came to the Chinese that an insurrection had arisen in China, headed by Yang Hyŭn-gam. The tents were hastily struck and the army by forced marches moved rapidly back towards China. At first the Ko-gu-ryŭ forces thought this was a mere feint but when the truth was known they rushed in pursuit and succeeded in putting several thousands of the Chinese braves hors de combat.

The following year the Emperor wanted to return to the charge but an envoy came from Ko-gu-ryŭ offering the king’s humble submission. To this the Emperor replied “Then let him come in person and present it.” This he would not do.

Four years later the king of Ko-gu-ryŭ died and his brother Kön-mu assumed control. It was in this same year 618 that the great T’ang dynasty was founded on the ruins of the Sui and the fear of vengeance was lifted from Ko-gu-ryŭ. She immediately sent an envoy to the T’ang court offering her allegiance. Păk-je and Sil-la were only a year behind her in paying their respects to the new Emperor. As a test of Ko-gu-ryŭ sincerity, Emperor Kao-tsu demanded that she send back the captives taken during the late war. As the price of peace Ko-gu-ryŭ complied and sent back 10,000 men. The next year the T’ang Emperor conferred the title of royalty upon all the three kings of the peninsula which, instead of settling the deadly feud between them, simply opened a new and final scene of the fratricidal struggle. To Ko-gu-ryŭ the Emperor sent books on the Shinto faith, of the introduction of which into Korea we here have the first intimation.

93Now that danger from the west no longer threatened Ko-gu-ryŭ, she turned to her neighbors and began to exercise her arms upon them. Păk-je also attacked Sil-la fiercely and soon a triangular war was being waged in the peninsula which promised to be a war of extermination unless China should interfere. Of course each wished the Emperor to interfere in her behalf and each plied the throne of China with recriminations of the others and with justifications of herself until the Emperor was wholly at a loss to decide between them. Perhaps it was not his policy to put an end to the war but let it rage until the whole peninsula was exhausted, when it would become an easy prey to his arms. At any rate he gave encouragement to none of them but simply told them to stop fighting. Ko-gu-ryŭ diplomatically added to her supplications a request for Buddhist, Taoist and Shinto teachers.

The details of this series of hostilities between the three Korean states form a tangled skein. First one border fort was taken and then recovered, then the same was repeated at another point; and so it went all along the line, now one being victorious and now another. Large forces were not employed at any one time or place, but it was a skirmish fire all along the border, burning up brightly first at one spot and then at another. One remarkable statement in the records, to the effect that Ko-gu-ryŭ began the building of a wall straight across the peninsula from Eui-ju to the Japan Sea to keep out the people of the northern tribes, seems almost incredible. If true it is another testimony to the great power of Ko-gu-ryŭ. It is said the work was finished in sixteen years.

In 632, after a reign of fifty years, King Chim-p’yŭng died without male issue but his daughter Tong-man, a woman of strong personality, ascended the throne of Sil-la, being the first of her sex that ever sat on a Korean throne.

Many stories are told of her precocity. Once when she was a mere child her father had received from the Emperor a picture of the mok-tan flower together with some seeds of the same. She immediately remarked that the flowers would have no perfume. When asked why she thought so she replied “Because there is no butterfly on them in the picture.” While not a valid argument, it showed a power of observation very uncommon in a child. This proved to be true, for when 94the seeds sprouted and grew the blossoms had no fragrance. The Emperor conferred upon her the title of royalty, the same as upon a male sovereign.

The first few years of her reign were peaceful ones for Sil-la, and Păk-je, as usual when relieved of the stress of war, fell back into her profligate ways again. The king built gardens and miniature lakes, bringing water from a point some twenty li away to supply them. Here he spent his time in sport and debauchery while the country ruled itself.

In the fifth year of her reign Queen Tong-man, while walking in her palace grounds, passed a pond of water but suddenly stopped and exclaimed “There is war on our western border.” When asked her reasons for thinking so she pointed to the frogs in the pond and said “See how red their eyes are. It means that there is war on the border.” As if to bear out her statement, swift messengers came the next day announcing that Păk-je was again at work along the western border. So runs the story.

And so the fight went on merrily all along the line, while at the capitals of the three kingdoms things continued much as usual. Each of the countries sent Princes to China to be educated, and the diplomatic relations with China were as intimate as ever; but in 642 Păk-je made the great mistake of her life. After an unusually successful military campaign against Sil-la during which she seized forty of her frontier posts, she conceived the bright idea of cutting off Sil-la’s communication with China. The plan was to block the way of Sil-la envoys on their way to China. Thus she thought that China’s good will would be withdrawn from her rival, Sil-la. It was a brilliant plan but it had after effects which worked ruin for Păk-je. Such a momentous undertaking could not be kept from the ears of the Emperor nor could Sil-la’s envoys be thus debarred from going to the Emperor’s court. When the whole matter was therefore laid before the Chinese court the Emperor immediately condemned Păk-je in his own mind.

About this time a Chinese envoy named Chin Ta-t’ok arrived on the borders of Ko-gu-ryŭ. On his way to the capital he pretended to enjoy all the views along the way and he gave costly presents to the prefects and gained from them accurate 95information about every part of the route. By this means he spied out the land and carried a fund of important information back to the Emperor. He advised that Ko-gu-ryŭ be invaded both by land and sea, for she would not be hard to conquer.

It was in this year 642 that a Ko-gu-ryŭ official named Hap So-mun assassinated the king and set up the king’s nephew Chang as king. He himself became of course the court favorite. He was a man of powerful body and powerful mind. He was as “sharp as a falcon.” He claimed to have risen from the water by a miraculous birth. He was hated by the people because of his cruelty and fierceness. Having by specious promises so far mollified the dislike of the officials as to have gained a position under the government he became worse than before and some of the officials had an understanding with the king that he must be put out of the way. This came to the ears of Hap So-mun and he gave a great feast, during the course of which he fell upon and killed all those who had advised against him. He then killed the king in the palace, cut the body in two and threw it into a ditch. Then, as we have seen, he set up Chang as king. This Hap So-mun is said to have worn five swords on his person all the time. All bowed their heads when he appeared and when he rode in state he passed over the prostrate bodies of men.

When an envoy, soon after this, came from Sil-la he was thrown into prison as a spy and was told that he would be released as soon as Sil-la should restore to Ko-gu-ryŭ the two districts of Ma-hyŭn which had at one time belonged to Ko-gu-ryŭ. This envoy had a friend among the Ko-gu-ryŭ officials and to him he applied for help. That gentleman gave him advice in the form of an allegory. It was as follows.

The daughter of the Sea King being ill, the physicians said that she could not recover unless she should eat the liver of a rabbit. This being a terrestrial animal it was of course almost impossible to obtain, but finally a tortoise volunteered to secure a rabbit and bring it to the king. Emerging from the sea on the coast of Sil-la the tortoise entered a field and found a rabbit sleeping under a covert. Awakening the animal he began to tell of an island off the shore where there were neither 96hawks nor hunters—a rabbit’s paradise, and volunteered to take the rabbit across to it upon his back. When well out at sea the tortoise bade the rabbit prepare for death, for his liver was needed by the Sea King. After a moment’s rapid thought the rabbit exclaimed “You might have had it without all this ado, for when the Creator made rabbits he made them with detachable livers so that when they became too warm they could take them out and wash them in cool water and then put them back. When you found me I had just washed mine and laid it on a rock to dry. You can have it if you wish, for I have no special use for it.” The tortoise in great chagrin turned about and paddled him back to the shore. Leaping to the land the rabbit cried “Good day, my friend, my liver is safe inside of me.”

The imprisoned envoy pondered over this conundrum and its application and finally solved it. Sending to the king he said “You cannot get back the two districts by keeping me here. If you will let me go and will provide me with an escort I will induce the Sil-la government to restore the territory to you.” The king complied, but when the envoy had once gotten across the border he sent back word that the restoration of territory was not in his line of business and he must decline to discuss the question at the court of Sil-la.

In 643 the powerful and much dreaded Hap So-mun sent to China asking the Emperor to send a teacher of the Shinto religion; for he said that the three religions, Buddhism, Taoism and Shintoism were like the three legs of a kettle, all necessary. The Emperor complied and sent a teacher, Suk-da, with eight others and with books to be used in the study of the new cult.

The prowess of this Hap So-mun was well known at the Chinese court and it kept the Emperor from attempting any offensive operations. He said it would not do to drain China of her soldiers at such a critical time, but that the Mal-gal tribes must first be alienated from their fealty to Ko-gu-ryŭ and be induced to attack her northern border. Others advised that Hap So-mun be allowed free rein so that all suspicion of aggression on the part of China should be removed and Ko-gu-ryŭ would become careless of her defenses. This would in time bring a good opportunity to strike the decisive blow. It 97was in pursuance of this policy that the Shinto teachers were sent and that Hap So-mun’s creature, Chang, was given investiture. At the same time a Sil-la emmissary was on his way to the Chinese court asking for aid against Ko-gu-ryŭ. The Emperor could not comply but proposed three plans: first, that China stir up the Mal-gal tribes to harry the northern borders of Ko-gu-ryŭ and so relieve the strain on the south; second, that China give Sil-la a large number of red flags which she should use in battle. The Păk-je or Ko-gu-ryŭ forces, seeing these, would think that Sil-la had Chinese allies and would hasten to make peace; third, that China should send an expedition against Păk-je, which should unite with a Sil-la force and thus crush the Păk-je power once for all and join her territory to that of Sil-la. This would prepare the way for the subjugation of Ko-gu-ryŭ. But to this advice the Emperor added that so long as Sil-la had a woman on the throne she could not expect to undertake any large operations. She ought to put a man on the throne and then, after the war was over, restore the woman if she so wished. The Sil-la envoy pondered these three plans but could come to no decision. So the Emperor called him a fool and sent him away. We see behind each of these schemes a fear of Ko-gu-ryŭ. China was willing to do anything but meet the hardy soldiers of Ko-gu-ryŭ in the field.

We see that the Emperor had virtually decided in favor of Sil-la as against Păk-je and Ko-gu-ryŭ. The long expected event had at last occurred. Tacitly but really China had cast her vote for Sil-la and the future of the peninsula was decided for so long as the Tang dynasty should last. That the decision was a wise one a moment’s consideration will show. Ko-gu-ryŭ never could be depended upon for six months in advance and must be constantly watched; Păk-je, being really a mixture of the northern and southern elements, had neither the power of the one nor the peaceful disposition of the other but was as unstable as a cloud. Sil-la on the other hand was purely southern, excepting for a strain of Chinese blood brought in by the refugees from the Tsin dynasty. Her temperament was even, her instincts peaceful, her tendencies toward improvement and reform. She was by all means the best ally China could have in the peninsula. 98And so the die was cast and henceforth the main drift of Chinese sympathy is to be Sil-la-ward.

The year 644 was a fateful one for Korea. The Emperor sent an envoy to Ko-gu-ryŭ and Păk-je commanding them to cease their depredations on Sil-la. Thus was the Chinese policy announced. Păk-je hastened to comply but Hap So-mun of Ko-gu-ryŭ replied that this was an ancient feud with Sil-la and could not be set aside until Ko-gu-ryŭ recovered 500 li of territory that she had been despoiled of. The Emperor in anger sent another envoy with the same demand, but Hap So-mun threw him into prison and defied China. When he heard however that the Emperor had determined upon an invasion of Ko-gu-ryŭ he changed his mind and sent a present of gold to the Chinese court. But he was too late. The gold was returned and the envoy thrown into prison.

There were many at the Chinese court who could remember the horrors of that retreat from P’yŭng-yang when China left 300,000 dead upon the hills of Ko-gu-ryŭ, and the Emperor was advised to move cautiously. He however felt that unless Ko-go-ryŭ was chastised she might develop an ambition towards imperialism and the throne of China itself might be endangered. He therefore began to collect provisions on the northern border, storing them at Tă-in Fortress. He called into his counsels the old general, Chöng Wŭn-do, who had been an eye-witness of the disasters of the late war with Ko-gu-ryŭ. This man gave healthful advice, saying that the subjugation of Ko-gu-ryŭ would be no easy task; first, because the way was so long; second, because of the difficulty of provisioning the army; third, because of the stubborn resistance of Ko-gu-ryŭ’s soldiers. He gave the enemy their due and did not minimize the difficulties of the situation.

The Emperor listened to and profitted by this advice, for during the events to be related his soldiers never suffered from over-confidence, but in their advances made sure of every step as they went along.

Active operations began by the sending of an army of 40,000 men in 501 boats to the harbor of Nă-ju where they were joined by land forces to the number of 60,000, besides large contingents from the wild tribes of the north. Large numbers of ladders and other engines of war had been constructed 99and were ready for use. Before crossing the Liao River the Emperor made proclamation far and wide saying “Hap So-mun has killed our vassal, King of Ko-gu-ryŭ, and we go to inquire into the matter. Let none of the prefects along the way waste their revenues in doing us useless honors. Let Sil-la, Păk-je and Kŭ-ran help us in this righteous war.”

Crossing the Liao without resistance the Chinese forces marched toward the fortress of Kön-an which soon fell into their hands. Some thousands of heads fell here to show the rest of Ko-gu-ryŭ what they might expect in case of contumacy. Then Ham-mo Fortress fell an easy victim. Not so the renowned fortress of Liao-tung. As the Emperor approached the place he found his way obstructed by a morass 200 li in length. He built a road through it and then when all his army had passed he destroyed the road behind him as Pizarro burnt his ships behind him when he landed on the shores of America to show his army that there was to be no retreat. Approaching the town he laid siege to it and after a hard fight, during which the Chinese soldiers lifted a man on the end of a long piece of timber until he could reach and set fire to the defences that surmounted the wall, an entrance was finally effected and the town taken. In this battle the Chinese were materially aided by armor which Păk-je had sent as a gift to the Chinese Emperor.

The Chinese were destined to find still greater difficulty in storming An-si Fortress which was to Ko-gu-ryŭ what Metz is to Germany. It was in command of the two generals, Ko Yŭn-su and Ko Hye-jin who had called to their aid 100,000 warriors of the Mal-gal tribes. At first the Emperor tried a ruse to draw the garrison out where he could give them battle. The wise heads among the Ko-gu-ryŭ garrison strongly opposed the sortie saying that it were better to await an opportunity to cut off the Chinese from their base of supplies, and so entrap them; but they were outvoted and the greater part of the Ko-gu-ryŭ and allied forces marched out to engage the enemy in the open field. The Emperor ascended an eminence where he could obtain a view of the enemy and he beheld the camp of the Mal-gal allies stretching out forty li, twelve miles. He determined to exercise the utmost caution. One of his generals, Wang Do-jong begged to be allowed to 100march on P‘yŭng-yang, which he deemed must be nearly bare of defenses, and so bring the war to a speedy close; but the Emperor, like Hannibal when begged by his generals to march straight into Rome, made the mistake of over-caution and so missed his great opportunity. To the Emperor this sounded too much like a similar attempt that had once cost China 300,000 men.

A messenger was sent to the Ko-gu-rŭ camp to say that China did not want to fight but had only come to inquire into the cause of the king’s death. As he intended, this put the Ko-gu-ryŭ forces off their guard and that night he surrounded the fortress and the forces which had come out to engage him. This was done in such a way that but few of the surrounding Chinese army were visible. Seeing these, the Ko-gu-ryŭ forces made a fierce onslaught anticipating an easy victory, instead of which they soon found themselves surrounded by the flower of the Chinese army and their retreat to the fortress cut off. It is said that in this fight 20,000 Ko-gu-ryŭ troops were cut down and three thousand of the Mal-gal allies, besides losing many through flight and capture. These were all released and sent back to Ko-gu-ryŭ excepting 3,500 noblemen whom the Emperor sent to China as hostages. This fight occurred outside the An-si Fortress and the Emperor supposed the gates would now be thrown open; but not so, for there was still a strong garrison within and plenty of provisions; so they barred the gates and still defied the Chinese. Upon hearing of the Chinese victory the neighboring Ko-gu-ryŭ fortresses Ho-whang and Eui capitulated, not knowing that An-si still held out against the victors.

Many of the Emperor’s advisers wanted him to ignore An-si and press on into Ko-gu-ryŭ leaving it in the rear, but this the wary Emperor would not consent to do, for he feared lest his retreat should be cut off. So the weary siege was continued. One day, hearing the lowing of cattle and the cackling of hens within the walls, the Emperor astutely surmised that a feast was being prepared preparatory to a sortie that was about to be made. Extra pickets were thrown out and the army was held in readiness for the attack. That very night the garrison came down the wall by means of ropes; but finding the besiegers ready for them they retired in confusion 101and suffered a severe defeat. The siege went on. The Chinese spent two months constructing a mound against the wall but the garrison rushed out and captured it. It is said that during this siege the Emperor lost an eye by an arrow wound, but the Chinese histories do not mention it. The cold blasts of late autumn were now beginning to give warning that winter was at hand and the Emperor was obliged to consider the question of withdrawing. He was filled with admiration of the pluck and bravery of the little garrison of An-si and before he broke camp he sent a message to the commander praising his faithfulness to his sovereign and presenting him with a hundred pieces of silk. Then the long march back to China began, and the 70,000 soldiers wended their way westward, foiled a second time by the stubborn hardihood of Ko-gu-ryŭ.

Chapter XII. Revolt in Sil-la.... Ko-gu-ryŭ invaded.... Sil-la invades Păk-je.... China decides to aid Sil-la.... war between Păk-je and Sil-la.... relations with China.... league against Sil-la.... China diverts Ko-gu-ryŭ’s attention.... traitors in Păk-je.... Sŭng-ch’ung’s advice.... Chinese forces sent to Păk-je.... portents of the fall of Păk-je.... conflicting plans.... Sil-la army enters Păk-je.... Păk-je capital seized.... Păk-je dismembered.... end of Păk-je.... disturbances in Păk-je territory.... Ko-gu-ryŭ attacks Sil-la.... final invasion of Ko-gu-ryŭ planned.... Păk-je malcontents.... combination against Ko-gu-ryŭ.... siege of P‘yŭng-yang raised.... Pok-sin’s fall.... Păk-je Japanese defeated.... governor of Ung-jin.... Buddhist reverses in Sil-la.... Sil-la king takes oath.... Nam-gŭn’s treachery.... the Mal-gal tribes desert Ko-gu-ryŭ.... the Yalu defended.... Chinese and Sil-la forces march on P‘yŭng-yang.... omens.... Ko-gu-ryŭ forts surrender.... Ko-gu-ryŭ falls.

Tong-man, the Queen ruler of Sil-la, died in 645 and was succeeded by her sister Söng-man. The Emperor confirmed her in her accession to the throne. It began to look seriously as if a gynecocracy was being established in Sil-la. Some of the highest officials decided to effect a change. The malcontents were led by Pi-un and Yŭm-jong. These men with a considerable number of troops went into camp near the capital and prepared to besiege it. For four days the rebels and the loyal troops faced each other without daring to strike a 102blow. Tradition says a star fell one night among the loyal forces and caused consternation there and exultation among the traitors. But the loyal Gen. Yu-sin hastened to the Queen and promised to reverse the omen. That night he prepared a great kite and fastened a lantern to its tail. Then he exhorted the soldiers to be of good cheer, sacrificed a white horse to the deities of the land and flew the kite. The rebels, seeing the light rising from the loyal camp, concluded that Providence had reversed the decree. So when the loyal troops made their attack the hearts of the rebels turned to water and they were driven over the face of the country and cut down with great slaughter. That same year the Emperor again planned to attack Ko-gu-ryŭ but the baleful light of a comet made him desist.

At the instigation of Hap So-mun, the king of Ko-gu-ryŭ sent his son to China, confessed his faults and begged for mercy, but the Emperor’s face was flint. The next year the message was again sent, but Ko-gu-ryŭ’s day of grace was over. China’s answer was an army of 30,000 men and a mighty fleet of ships. The fortress of Pak-chak in Liao-tung was besieged but it was so fortified by nature as to be almost impregnable. The Emperor therefore said “Return to China and next year we will send 300,000 men instead of 30,000.” He then ordered the building of a war vessel 100 feet in length. He also had large store of provisions placed on O-ho Island to be used by the invading army.

Meanwhile Sil-la had become emboldened by the professed preference of China for her and she arose and smote Păk-je, taking twenty-one of her forts, killing 30,000 of her soldiers and carrying away 9,000 prisoners. She followed this up by making a strong appeal to China for help, saying that unless China should come to her aid she would be unable to continue her embassies to the Chinese court. The Emperor thereupon ordered Gen. So Chöng-bang to take 200,000 troops and go to the aid of Sil-la. He evidently was intending to try a new way of attacking Ko-gu-ryŭ. As the Sil-la messenger was hastening homeward with this happy news emissaries of Ko-gu-ryŭ dogged his footsteps and sought his life. Once he was so hard pressed that he escaped only by a clever and costly ruse. One of his suite dressed in his official garments and 103personated him and thus drew the assassins off the scent and allowed himself to be killed, the real envoy making good his escape. It was now for the first time that Sil-la adopted the Chinese costume, having first obtained leave from the Emperor. It is said that it resembled closely the costume used in Korea today.

Unfortunately for Sil-la the Emperor died in 649 and Ko-gu-ryŭ began to breathe freely again. It also emboldened Păk-je and she invaded Sil-la with a considerable army and seized seven forts. Sil-la retaliated by seizing 10,000 houses belonging to Păk-je subjects and killing the leading Păk-je general, Eum-sang. Sil-la lost not a moment in gaining the good will of the new Emperor. Envoys with presents were sent frequently. She adopted the Chinese calendar and other customs from the suzerain state and so curried favor with the powerful. The Păk-je envoy was received coldly by the Emperor and was told to go and give back to Sil-la the land that had been taken and to cease the hostilities. This Păk-je politely declined to do. Each emperor of China seems to have declined the legacy of quarrels handed down by his predecessor. So bye-gones were bye-gones and Ko-gu-ryŭ was accepted again on her good behavior.

With the end of Queen Söng-man’s reign affairs in the peninsula began to focus toward that crisis which Ko-gu-ryŭ and Păk-je had so long been preparing for themselves. In 655 a new combination was effected and one that would have made Sil-la’s horizon very dark had she not been sure of Imperial help. Her two neighbors formed a league against her, and of course the Mal-gal tribes sided with Ko-gu-ryŭ in this new venture. Păk-je and Ko-gu-ryŭ were drawn together by their mutual fear of Sil-la and soon the allied armies were marching on Sil-la’s borders. At the first onslaught thirty-three of Sil-la’s border forts passed into the hands of the allies. It was now China’s last chance to give aid to the most faithful of her Korean vassals, for otherwise she would surely have fallen before this combination. A swift messenger was sent imploring the Emperor for aid and stating that if it was not granted Sil-la would be swallowed up. The Emperor had no intention of letting Sil-la be dismembered and without a day’s delay troops were despatched into Liao-tung under Generals 104Chŭng Myŭng-jin and So Chöng-bang. Many of Ko-gu-ryŭ’s fortresses beyond the Yalu River were soon in the possession of China. This was successful in diverting Ko-gu-ryŭ’s attention from Sil-la, but Păk-je continued the fight with her. The advantage lay now with one side and now with the other. The court of Păk-je was utterly corrupt and except for a small army in the field under almost irresponsible leadership, she was weak indeed.

Now it happened that a Sil-la man named Cho Mi-gon had been taken captive and carried to Păk-je where he was employed in the household of the Prime Minister. One day he made his escape and found his way across the border into his native country, but there meeting one of the Sil-la generals he was induced to go back and see what he could do in the Păk-je capital towards facilitating an invasion on the part of his countrymen. He returned and after sounding the Prime Minister found him ready to sell his country if there was anything to be made out of it. It is said that here began the downfall of Păk-je. The king of Păk-je was utterly incompetent and corrupt. One of his best councillors was thrown into prison and starved to death for rebuking him of his excesses. But even while this faithful man was dying he sent a message to the king saying “Do not fail to place a strong garrison at ‘Charcoal Pass’ and at Păk River.” These were the two strategic points of Păk-je’s defenses; if they were guarded well, surprise was impossible. From that time affairs in Păk-je went from bad to worse. China kept Ko-gu-ryŭ busy in the north and nothing of consequence was gained by either side in the south until finally in 659 another Sil-la envoy made his appearance in the Emperor’s court. At last the great desire of Sil-la was accomplished. The Emperor ordered Gen. So Chöng-bang to take 130,000 men by boat to the shores of Păk-je and there coöperate with a Sil-la army in the utter subjugation of Păk-je. The Sil-la army went into camp at Nam-ch’ŭn and received word from the Chinese general to meet him at the Păk-je capital in the seventh moon.

Tradition says that the doom impending over Păk-je was shadowed forth in advance by many omens and signs. Frogs, it is said, grew like leaves on the trees and if anyone killed one of them he instantly fell dead. Among the mountains black 105clouds met and fought one another. The form of an animal, half dog and half lion, was seen in the sky approaching the palace and uttering terrible bellowings and roarings. Dogs congregated in the streets and howled. Imps of awful shape came into the palace and cried “Păk-je is fallen, Păk-je is fallen,” and disappeared in the ground. Digging there the king found a tortoise on whose back were written the words “Păk-je is at full moon; Sil-la is at half moon.” The diviners were called upon to interpret this. “It means that Sil-la is in the ascendant while Păk-je is full and about to wane.” The king ordered their heads off, and called in another company of diviners. These said that it meant that Sil-la was half waned while Păk-je was at her zenith. Somewhat mollified by this, the king called a grand council of war. The advice given was of the most conflicting nature. Some said the Chinese must be attacked first; others said the Sil-la forces must be attended to first. A celebrated general who had been banished was sent for and his advice was the same as that of the famous statesman whom the king had starved in prison. “You must guard the ‘Charcoal Pass’ and the Pak River.” But the majority of the courtiers said that the Chinese had better be allowed to land before they were attacked and that the Sil-la army should be allowed to come in part through the pass before being opposed. This latter point was decided for them, for when the Păk-je troops approached the pass they found that the Sil-la army was already streaming through, and at its head was the famous Gen. Kim Yu-sin. When the battle was joined the Păk-je forces held their ground and fought manfully; but victory perched upon the banners of Sil-la and when the battle was done nothing lay between the Sil-la forces and the capital of Păk-je, the place of rendezvous. It is said that Gen. Ke-băk the leader of the Păk-je forces killed all his family before starting out on this expedition, fearing lest the thought of them might make him waver. He fell in the battle.

The capital of Păk-je was situated on the site of the present town of Sa-ch’ŭn. When the Sil-la warriors approached it the king fled to the town now known as Kong-ju. He left all the palace women behind and they, knowing what their fate would be at the hands of the Sil-la soldiery, went together to a beetling precipice which overhangs the harbor 106of Tă-wang and cast themselves from its summit into the water beneath. That precipice is famed in Korean song and story and is called by the exquisitely poetical name Nak-wha-am “Precipice of the Falling Flowers.” The victors forced the gates of the capital and seized the person of the Prince, the king’s second son, who had been left behind. A few days later the King and the Crown Prince came back from their place of hiding and voluntarily gave themselves up.

The allies had now met as they had agreed and Păk-je was at their mercy. The Chinese general said that the Emperor had given him full authority to settle the matter and that China would take half the territory and Sil-la might have the other half. This was indeed a generous proposal on the part of China but the Sil-la commander replied that Sil-la wanted none of the Păk-je territory but only sought revenge for the wrongs that Păk-je had heaped upon her. At the feast that night the king of Păk-je was made to pour the wine for the victors and in this act of abject humiliation Sil-la had her desire for revenge fully satisfied. When the Chinese generals went back to China to announce these events they took with them the unthroned King of Păk-je together with his four sons, eighty-eight of the highest officials and 12,807 of the people.

It was in 660 that Păk-je fell. She survived for 678 years and during that time thirty kings had sat upon her throne. A singular discrepancy occurs here in the records. They affirm that the whole period of Păk-je rule covered a lapse of 678 years; but they also say that Păk-je was founded in the third year of Emperor Ch’eng-ti of China. That would have been in 29 B.C. making the whole dynasty 689 years. The vast burden of proof favors the belief that Păk-je was founded in 16 B.C. and that her whole lease of life was 678 years.

As Sil-la had declined to share in the dismemberment of Păk-je, China proceeded to divide it into provinces for administrative purposes. There were five of these, Ung-jin, Tong-myŭng, Keum-ryŭn, Tŭk-an. The central government was at Sa-ja the former capital of Păk-je. The separate provinces were put under the control of prefects selected from among the people. The country was of course in a very unsettled state; disaffection showed itself on every side and disturbances were frequent. A remnant of the Păk-je army 107took its stand among the mountains, fortified its position and bid defiance to the new government. These malcontents found strong sympathisers at the capital and in the country towns far and wide. The Chinese governor, Yu In-wŭn, found the task of government no easy one. But still Sil-la stood ready to aid and soon a Sil-la army crossed the border and attacked the fortress of I-rye where the rebels were intrenched. Taking this by assault they advanced toward the mountain fortress already mentioned, crossed the “Chicken Ford,” crumpled up the line of rebel intrenchments and lifted a heavy load from the governor’s shoulders.

Ko-gu-ryŭ soon heard the ominous news and she took it as a presage of evil for herself. She immediately threw a powerful army across the Sil-la border and stormed the Ch’il-jung Fortress. The records naively remark that they filled the commander as full of arrows as a hedgehog is of quills.

Now that Păk-je had been overcome China took up with alacrity the plan of subduing Ko-gu-ryŭ. The great final struggle began, that was destined to close the career of the proudest, hardiest and bravest kingdom that the peninsula of Korea ever saw. The Păk-je king who had been carried to China died there in 661. In that same year Generals Kye-p’il, So Chŏng-bang and Ha Ryŭk, who had already received their orders to march on Ko-gu-ryŭ, rendezvoused with their forces at Ha-nam and the warriors of the Whe-bol together with many volunteers from other tribes joined the imperial standards. The plan was to proceed by land and sea. The Emperor desired to accompany the expedition, but the death of the empress made it impossible.

Meanwhile matters in Păk-je were becoming complicated again. A man named Pok Sin revolted against the government, proclaimed Pu-yŭ P‘ung, the son of a former king, monarch of the realm and planned a reëstablishment of the kingdom. This was pleasing to many of the people. So popular was the movement that the Emperor feared it would be successful. He therefore sent a summons to Sil-la to send troops and put it down. Operations began at once. Gen. Yu In-gwe besieged Ung-jin the stronghold of the pretender and chased him out, but a remnant of his forces intrenched themselves and made a good fight. They were however routed 108by the combined Sil-la and Chinese forces. But in spite of this defeat the cause was so popular that the country was honeycombed with bands of its sympathisers who gained many lesser victories over the government troops and their Sil-la allies. The Sil-la general, Kim Yu-sin, was very active, passing rapidly from one part of the country to another, now driving back to the mountains some band of Păk-je rebels and now holding in check some marauding band from Ko-gu-ryŭ. He was always found where he was most needed and was never at a loss for expedients. It is said that at this time rice was so plentiful in Sil-la that it took thirty bags of it to buy a single bolt of grass cloth.

That same autumn the Chinese engaged the Ko-gu-ryŭ forces at the Yalu River and gained a decided victory. Then the fortress at Ma-eup San fell into their hands. This cleared the road to P‘yŭng-yang, and the Chinese boldly advanced and laid siege to that ancient stronghold. At the same time the Emperor ordered Sil-la to send troops to coöperate with the imperial army. She obeyed, but with great trepidation, for the fame of Ko-gu-ryŭ’s arms made this seem a matter of life and death. She was obliged to comply, however, or lose all the vantage ground she had gained in the Emperor’s favor. There were still some Ko-gu-ryŭ forces in the north and they were attempting to check the advance of a large body of Chinese reinforcements. It was late in the autumn and the Yalu was frozen. Taking advantage of this the Chinese crossed in the night and falling suddenly upon the unsuspecting army of Ko-gu-ryŭ inflicted a crushing defeat. It is said that 30,000 Ko-gu-ryŭ soldiers were killed in this engagement. The speedy downfall of Ko-gu-ryŭ seemed now inevitable, but a sudden timidity seized the Emperor, who feared perhaps to let his army winter on Korean soil. So he sent orders for an immediate retreat back to Chinese territory. The generals before P‘yŭng-yang were deeply chagrined and indeed found it impossible on account of lack of provisions to obey the command at once. Soon the Sil-la army arrived before P‘yŭng-yang with full supply of provisions. These the Chinese took and the greater part of them reluctantly broke camp and marched back to China, leaving Sil-la in a frame of mind better imagined than described.

109While Ko-gu-ryŭ was staggering under the terrible reverses inflicted by the Chinese, events of interest were taking place in the south. The kingdom of T‘am-na on the island of Quelpart had always been a dependency of Păk-je, but now found it necessary to transfer her allegiance to Sil-la. The king of T‘am-na at that time was To-dong Eum-yul.

The mischief-maker, Pok-sin, was again in the field. Now that he was relieved of pressure he came back to the charge and took Ung-jin from the Chinese. At the earnest request of the governor the Emperor sent Gen. Son In-sa with a small army to aid in putting down this dangerous malcontent. Pok-sin was obliged to retire to Chin-hyŭn where he fortified himself strongly. Success seems to have turned his head for he began to carry himself so proudly that his followers arose and put him to death and then sent a messenger to Ko-gu-ryŭ and to Japan asking aid against the Chinese. The latter responded by sending a considerable force to the shores of Păk-je to coöperate with this hardy band of men who were honestly fighting for the independence of their country.

In 663 the Emperor conferred upon the king of Sil-la the title of Tă-do-dok of Kye-rim.

It appears that when the Chinese retired from before P‘yŭng-yang and left the Sil-la forces in such a delicate position, some of the Chinese were allowed to remain there on the plea that if all were removed it would invite an outbreak of the Păk-je revolutionists. Now as the year 663 opened the Emperor reinforced them by a powerful army under Gen. Son In-sa. Sil-la also sent the flower of her army under command of twenty-eight generals to join the Chinese before P‘yŭng-yang. But the plan of operations was changed. It was decided to move southward and complete the subjugation of the troublesome Păk-je patriots and their Japanese allies. The combined Chinese and Sil-la armies marched toward Chu-ryu fortress where the revolutionists were supposed to be intrenched. On their way they met the Japanese disembarking, on the banks of the Pak River. They were put to flight and their boats were burned. The march was continued and the fortress was duly invested. It fell straightway and the pretender to the Sil-la throne was captured. This was followed 110by the surrender of all the revolutionists and their Japanese friends. The last fortress to fall was that of Im-jon, now Tă-heung, after a desperate struggle.

The war was now at an end. The dead were buried, a census was taken of the people in the Păk-je capital, aid was given to the poor, and the people were encouraged to return at their peaceful avocations. Expressions of satisfaction at what seemed to be the return of peace were heard on all sides.

Gen. Yu In-gwe, who had been left in charge of the Chinese troops before P‘yŭng-yang when the Emperor ordered the retreat, now sent word to the Chinese capital that as his soldiers had been in the peninsula two years without seeing home he feared they might mutiny. He received orders to return to China with his men but he decided to wait till the grain that his men had sown should ripen. The Emperor then appointed Pu-yŭ Yung the brother of the last king of Păk-je to the position of governor of all the territory formerly embraced in Păk-je. He received the title of Tă-do-dok of Ung-jin, and was urged by the Emperor to govern well. This was in 664.

Sil-la took advantage of the timely cessation of hostilities to send to the Chinese camp in Păk-je and have some of her men take lessons in music from the musicians there. They also took copies of the dishes, clothes and customs of the Chinese. All these were imitated by the king and his court. Buddhism received a sudden check in Sil-la at this time for the king took the surest way to crush it out, namely, by forbidding any one to give the monks either money or rice.

In 665 Gen. Yu In-wŭn received orders from China to return to that country but before doing so he performed a significant act. He made the king of Sil-la and the new Tă-do-dok of Ung-jin take an oath in the blood of a white horse that they would fight no more. This was done at the fortress of Ch‘wi-ri San and the slaughtered animal was buried there under the oath altar. A written copy of the oath was placed in the ancestral temple of the kings of Sil-la. After Gen. Yu’s return to China he was followed by Gen. Yu In-gwe who took with him envoys from Sil-la, Păk-je, T‘am-na and Japan. To render the compact of peace more binding still the Emperor 111sacrificed to heaven in the presence of these envoys. It is said, however, that the new ruler in Păk-je stood in such fear of Sil-la that he fled back to China soon after this.

The last act in the tragedy of Ko-gu-ryŭ opens with the death of her iron chancellor, Hap So-mun. It was his genius that had kept the armies in the field; it was his faith in her ultimate victory that had kept the general courage up. When he was laid in his grave the only thing that Ko-gu-ryŭ had to fall back upon was the energy of despair. It was her misfortune that Hap So-mun left two sons each of whom possessed a full share of his father’s ferocity and impatience of restraint. Nam-săng, the elder, assumed his father’s position as Prime Minister, but while he was away in the country attending to some business, his brother, Nam-gŭn, seized his place. Nam-săng fled to the Yalu River and putting himself at the head of the Mal-gal and Kŭ-ran tribes went over with them to the Emperor’s side. Thus by Nam-gŭn’s treachery to his brother, Ko-gu-ryŭ was deprived of her one great ally, and gained an implacable enemy in Nam-săng. The Emperor made the latter Governor-general of Liao-tung and he began welding the wild tribes into an instrument for revenge. Then the Chinese forces appeared and together they went to the feast of death; and even as they were coming news reached them that the Ko-gu-ryŭ general, Yŭn Chŭn-t‘o, had surrendered to Sil-la and turned over to her twelve of Ko-gu-ryŭ’s border forts. It was not till the next year that the Chinese crossed the Liao and fell upon the Ko-gu-ryŭ outposts. The Chinese general had told his men that the strategic point was the fortress Sin-sŭng and that its capture meant the speedy capitulation of all the rest. Sin-sŭng was therefore besieged and the struggle began. The commandant was loyal and wished to defend it to the death but his men thought otherwise, and they bound him and surrendered. Then sixteen other forts speedily followed the example.

Gen. Ko-gan hastened forward and engaged the Ko-gu-ryŭ forces at Keum-san and won a decided victory, while at the same time Gen. Sŭl-In gwi was reducing the fortresses of Nam-so, Mok-jŭ and Ch‘ang-am, after which he was joined by the Mal-gal forces under the renegade Nam-săng. Another Chinese general, Wŭn Man-gyŭng, now sent a boastful letter to the 112Ko-gu-ryŭ capital saying “Look out now for the defenses of that precious Am-nok River of yours.” The answer came grimly back “We will do so.” And they did it so well that not a Chinese soldier set foot on the hither side during that year. The Emperor was enraged at this seeming incompetence and banished the boastful general to Yong-nam. A message had already been sent to Sil-la ordering her to throw her army into Ko-gu-ryŭ and for the Chinese generals Yu In-wŭn and Kim In-t‘ă to meet them before P‘yŭng-yang. These two generals were in Păk-je at the time.

In 668 everything beyond the Yalu had fallen into the hands of the Chinese; even Pu-yŭ Fortress of ancient fame had been taken by Gen. Sŭl In-gwi. The Emperor sent a messenger asking “Can you take Ko-gu-ryŭ?” The answer went back “Yes, we must take her. Prophecy says that after 700 years Ko-gu-ryŭ shall fall and that eighty shall cause her overthrow. The 700 years have passed and now Gen. Yi Jök is eighty years old. He shall be the one to fulfill the prophecy.”

Terrible omens had been seen in the Ko-gu-ryŭ capital. Earthquakes had been felt; foxes had been seen running through the streets; the people were in a state of panic. The end of Ko-gu-ryŭ was manifestly near. So tradition says.

Nam-gŭn had sent 50,000 troops to succor Pu-yŭ Fortress but in the battle which ensued 30,000 of these were killed and the remainder were scattered. Conformably to China’s demands, Sil-la in the sixth moon threw her army into Ko-gu-ryŭ. The great Sil-la general, Kim Yu-sin was ill, and so Gen. Kim In-mun was in command with twenty-eight generals under him. While this army was making its way northward the Chinese under Gen. Yi Jök in the north took Tă-hăng Fortress and focussed all the troops in his command upon the defenses of the Yalu. These defenses were broken through, the river was crossed and the Chinese advanced 210 li toward the capital without opposition. One by one the Ko-gu-ryŭ forts surrendered and at last Gen. Kye-p‘il Ha-ryŭk arrived before the historic city of P‘yŭng-yang. Gen. Yi Jök arrived next and finally Gen. Kim In-mun appeared at the head of the Sil-la army.

After an uninteresting siege of a month the king sent out 113Gen. Chön Nam-san and ninety other nobles with a flag of truce and offered to surrender. But the chancellor Nam-gŭn knew what fate was in store for him, so he made a bold dash at the besieging army. The attempt failed and the miserable man put the sword to his own throat and expired. The aged general, Yi Jök, took the king and his two sons, Pong-nam, and Tong-nam, a number of the officials, many of Nam-gŭn’s relatives and a large company of the people of P‘yŭng-yang and carried them back to China, where he was received with evidences of the utmost favor by the Emperor. The whole number of captives in the triumphal return of Gen. Yi Jök is said to have been 20,000.

Ko-gu-ryŭ’s lease of life had been 705 years, from 37 B.C. to 668 A.D., during which time she had been governed by twenty-eighty kings.

Chapter XIII. Sil-la’s captives.... Ko-gu-ryŭ dismembered.... extent of Sil-la.... she deceives China.... her encroachments.... rebellion.... the word Il-bon (Nippon) adopted.... Sil-la opposed China.... but is humbled.... again opposes.... Sil-la a military power.... her policy.... the Emperor nominates a rival king.... Sil-la pardoned by China.... again makes trouble.... the Emperor establishes two kingdoms in the north.... Sil-la’s northern capital.... cremation.... no mention of Arabs.... China’s interest in Korea wanes.... redistribution of land.... diacritical points.... philological interest.... Pal-hă founded.... Chinese customs introduced.... Pal-hă’s rapid growth.... omens.... Sil-la’s northern limit.... casting of a bell.... names of provinces changed.... Sil-la’s weakness.... disorder.... examinations.... Buddhism interdicted.... no evidence of Korean origin of Japanese Buddhism.... Japanese history before the 10th century.... civil wars.... Ch‘oé Ch‘i-wŭn.... tradition.... Queen Man’s profligacy.

Immediately upon the fall of Ko-gu-ryŭ the Sil-la forces retired to their own country carrying 7000 captives with them. The king gave his generals and the soldiers rich presents of silks and money.

China divided all Ko-gu-ryŭ into nine provinces in which there were forty-two large towns and over a hundred lesser ones of prefectural rank. In P‘yŭng-yang Gen. Sŭl In-gwi 114was stationed with a garrison of 20,000 men. The various provinces were governed partly by Chinese governors and partly by native prefects.

The king of Sil-la was now the only king in the peninsula and the presumption was that in view of his loyalty to the Chinese his kingdom would extend to the Yalu River if not beyond, but it probably was not extended at the time further than the middle of Whang-hă Province of to-day. The records say that in 669 the three kingdoms were all consolidated but it did not occur immediately. It is affirmed that the Chinese took 38,000 families from Ko-gu-ryŭ and colonized Kang-whe in China and that some were also sent to San-nam in western China. That Sil-la was expecting a large extension of territory is not explicitly stated but it is implied in the statement that when a Sil-la envoy went to the Chinese court the Emperor accused the king of wanting to possess himself of the whole peninsula, and threw the envoy into prison. At the same time he ordered Sil-la to send bow-makers to China to make bows that would shoot 1,000 paces. In due time these arrived but when the bows were made it was found that they would shoot but thirty paces. They gave as a reason for this that it was necessary to obtain the wood from Sil-la to make good bows. This was done and still the bows would shoot but sixty paces. The bow-makers declared that they did not know the reason unless it was because the wood had been hurt by being brought across the water. This was the beginning of an estrangement between the Emperor and the king of Sil-la which resulted in a state of actual war between the two.

Sil-la was determined to obtain possession of a larger portion of Ko-gu-ryŭ than had as yet fallen to her lot; so she sent small bodies of troops here and there to take possession of any districts that they could lay their hands on. It is probable that this meant only such districts as were under native prefects and not those under direct Chinese rule. It is probable that Sil-la had acquired considerable territory in the north for we are told that the Mal-gal ravaged her northern border and she sent troops to drive them back.

If China hoped to rule any portion of Korea without trouble she must have been speedily disillusionised for no sooner had the new form of government been put in operation 115than a Sil-la gentleman, Köm Mo-jam, raised an insurrection in one of the larger magistracies, put the Chinese prefect to death and proclaimed An Seung king. He was a member of a collateral branch of the royal family. Sil-la seems to have taken it for granted that the whole territory was under her supervision for now she sent an envoy and gave consent to the founding of this small state in the north which she deemed would act as a barrier to the incursions of the northern barbarians. The Chinese evidently did not look upon it in this light and a strong force was sent against the nascent state; and to such effect that the newly appointed king fled to Sil-la for safety. The wheel of fortune was turning again and Chinese sympathies were now rather with Păk-je than with Sil-la.

It was at this time, 671, that the term Il-bün (Nippon) was first used in Korea in connection with the kingdom of Japan.

The relations between Sil-la and Păk-je were badly strained. In the following year the Chinese threw a powerful army into Păk-je with the evident intention of opposing Sil-la. So the latter furbished up her arms and went into the fray. In the great battle which ensued at the fortress of Sŭk-sŭng 5,000 of the Chinese were killed. Sil-la was rather frightened at her own success and when she was called upon to explain her hostile attitude toward China she averred that it was all a mistake and she did not intend to give up her allegience to China. This smoothed the matter over for the time being, but when, a little later, the Emperor sent seventy boat loads of rice for the garrison at P‘yŭng-yang, Sil-la seized the rice and drowned the crew’s of the boats, thus storing up wrath against herself. The next year she attacked the fortress of Ko-sŭng in Păk-je and 30,000 Chinese advanced to the support of the Păk-je forces. A collision took place between them and the Sil-la army in which the Chinese were very severely handled. This made the Emperor seriously consider the question of subduing Sil-la once for all. He ordered that the Mal-gal people be summoned to a joint invasion of the insolent Sil-la and the result was that seven Sil-la generals were driven back in turn and 2,000 troops made prisoners. In this predicament there was nothing for the king to do but play the humble suppliant again. The letter to the Emperor praying for pardon 116was written by the celebrated scholar Im Gang-su. But it was not successful, for we find that in the following year the Chinese troops in the north joined with the Mal-gal and Kŭ-ran tribes in making reprisals on Sil-la territory. This time however Sil-la was on the alert and drove the enemy back with great loss. She also sent a hundred war boats up the western coast to look after her interests in the north. At the same time she offered amnesty and official positions to Păk-je nobles who should come over to her side.

We can scarcely escape the conviction that Sil-la had now become a military power of no mean dimensions. Many citizens of Ko-gu-ryŭ had come over to her and some of the Păk-je element that was disaffected toward the Chinese. All, in fact, who wanted to keep Korea for the Koreans and could put aside small prejudices and jealousies, gathered under the Sil-la banners as being the last chance of saving the peninsula from the octopus grasp of China. Sil-la was willing to be good friends with China—on her own terms; namely that China should let her have her own way in the peninsula, and that it should not be overrun by officious generals who considered themselves superior to the king of the land and so brought him into contempt among the people.

At this time there was at the Chinese court a Sil-la envoy of high rank named Kim In-mun. The Emperor offered him the throne of Sil-la, but loyalty to his king made him refuse the honor. In spite of this he was proclaimed King of Sil-la and was sent with three generals to enforce the claim. That Sil-la was not without power at this time is shown by the fact that she proclaimed An-seung King of Păk-je, an act that would have been impossible had she not possessed a strong foothold in that country.

The war began again in earnest. The Chinese general, Yi Gön-hăng, in two fierce encounters, broke the line of Sil-la defenses and brought the time-serving king to his knees again. One can but wonder at the patience of the Emperor in listening to the humble petition of this King Mun-mu who had made these promises time and again but only to break them as before. He was, however, forgiven and confirmed again in his rule. The unfortunate Kim In-mun whom the Emperor had proclaimed King of Sil-la was now in a very delicate position 117and he wisely hastened back to China where he was compensated for his disappointment by being made a high official.

Sil-la’s actions were most inconsistent, for having just saved herself from condign punishment by abject submission she nevertheless kept on absorbing Păk-je territory and reaching after Ko-gu-ryŭ territory as well. In view of this the Emperor ordered the Chinese troops in the north to unite with the Mal-gal and Kŭ-ran forces and hold themselves in readiness to move at an hour’s notice. They began operations by attacking the Chön-sŭng Fortress but there the Sil-la forces were overwhelmingly successful. It is said that 6,000 heads fell and that Sil-la captured 30,000 (?) horses. This is hard to reconcile with the statement of the records that in the following year a Sil-la envoy was received at the Chinese court and presented the compliments of the king. It seems sure that Sil-la had now so grown in the sinews of war that it was not easy for China to handle her at such long range. It may be too that the cloud of Empress Wu’s usurpation had begun to darken the horizon of Chinese politics and that events at home absorbed all the attention of the court, while the army on the border was working practically on its own authority.

A new kind of attempt to solve the border question was made when in 677 the Emperor sent the son of the captive king of Ko-gu-ryŭ to found a little kingdom on the Yalu River. This might be called the Latter Ko-gu-ryŭ even as the Păk-je of that day was called the Latter Păk-je. At the same time a son of the last Păk-je king was sent to found a little kingdom at Tă-bang in the north. He lived, however, in fear of the surrounding tribes and was glad to retire into the little Ko-gu-ryŭ kingdom that lay lower down the stream. The records call this the “last” end of Păk-je.

In 678 Sil-la made a northern capital at a place called Puk-wŭn-ju the capital of Kang-wŭn Province. There a fine palace was erected. The king enquired of his spiritual adviser whether he had better change his residence to the new capital but not receiving sufficient encouragement he desisted. This monarch died in 681 but before he expired he said “Do not waste the public money in building me a costly mausoleum. Cremate my body after the manner of the West.” This gives us an interesting clue to Sil-la’s knowledge of the 118outside world. If, as some surmise, Arab traders had commercial intercourse with the people of Sil-la it must have been about this time or a little earlier for this was the period of the greatest expansion of Arabian commerce. It is possible that the idea of cremation may have been received from them although from first to last there is not the slightest intimation that Western traders ever visited the coasts of Sil-la. It is difficult to believe that, had there been any considerable dealings with the Arabs, it should not have been mentioned in the records.

The king’s directions were carried out and his son, Chong-myŭng, burned his body on a great stone by the Eastern Sea and gave the stone the name “Great King Stone.” That the Emperor granted investiture to this new king shows that all the troubles had been smoothed over. But from this time on Chinese interest in the Korean peninsula seems to have died out altogether. The little kingdom of Latter Ko-gu-ryŭ, which the Emperor had established on the border, no sooner got on a sound basis than it revolted and the Emperor had to stamp it out and banish its king to a distant Chinese province. This, according to the records, was the “last” end of Ko-gu-ryŭ. It occurred in 682 A.D.

Sil-la now held all the land south of the Ta-dong River. North of that the country was nominally under Chinese control but more likely was without special government. In 685 Sil-la took in hand the redistribution of the land and the formation of provinces and prefectures for the purpose of consolidating her power throughout the peninsula. She divided the territory into nine provinces, making three of the original Păk-je and three of that portion of the original Ko-gu-ryŭ that had fallen into her hands. The three provinces corresponding to the original Sil-la were (1) Sŭ-bŭl-ju (the first step in the transformation of the word Sŭ ya-bŭl to Seoul), (2) Sam-yang-ju, now Yang-san, (3) Ch‘ŭng-ju now Chin-ju. Those comprising the original Păk-je were (1) Ung-ch‘ŭn-ju in the north, (2) Wan-san-ju in the south-west, (3) Mu-jin-ju in the south, now Kwang-ju. Of that portion of Ko-gu-ryŭ which Sil-la had acquired she made the three provinces (1) Han-san-ju, now Seoul, (2) Mok-yak-ju, now Ch‘un-ch‘ŭn, (3) Ha-să-ju, now Kang-neung. These nine names 119represent rather the provincial capitals than the provinces themselves. Besides these important centers there were 450 prefectures. Changes followed each other in quick succession. Former Ko-gu-ryŭ officials were given places of trust and honor; the former mode of salarying officials, by giving them tracts of land from whose produce they obtained their emoluments, was changed, and each received an allowance of rice according to his grade; the administration of the state was put on a solid basis.

One of the most far-reaching and important events of this reign was the invention of the yi-du, or set of terminations used in the margin of Chinese texts to aid the reader in Koreanizing the syntax of the Chinese sentence. We must bear in mind that in those days reading was as rare an accomplishment in Sil-la as it was in England in the days of Chaucer. All writing was done by the a-jun, who was the exact counterpart of the “clerk” of the Middle Ages. The difficulty of construing the Chinese sentence and using the right suffixes was so great that Sŭl-ch‘ong, the son of the king’s favorite monk, Wŭn-hyo, attempted a solution of the difficulty. Making a list of the endings in common use in the vernacular of Sil-la he found Chinese characters to correspond with the sounds of these endings. The correspondence was of two kinds; either the name of the Chinese character was the same as the Sil-la ending or the Sil-la meaning of the character was the same as the ending. To illustrate this let us take the case of the ending sal-ji, as in ha-sal-ji, which has since been shortened to ha-ji. Now, in a Chinese text nothing but the root idea of the word ha will be given and the reader must supply the sal-ji which is the ending. If then some arbitrary signs could be made to represent these endings and could be put in the margin it would simplify the reading of Chinese in no small degree. It was done in this way: There is a Chinese character which the Koreans call păk, Chinese pa, meaning “white.” One of the Sil-la definitions of this character sal-wi-ta. It was the first syllable of this word that was used to represent the first syllable of the ending sal-ji. Notice that it was not the name of the character that was used but the Sil-la equivalent. For the last syllable of the ending sal-ji, however, the Chinese character ji is used without reference to its 120Sil-la equivalent. We find then in the yi-du as handed down from father to son by the a-jun’s of Korea a means for discovering the connection between the Korean vernacular of to-day with that of the Sil-la people. It was indeed a clumsy method, but the genius of Sŭl-ch‘ong lay in his discovery of the need of such a system and of the possibility of making one. It was a literary event of the greatest significance. It was the first outcry against the absurd primitiveness of the Chinese ideography, a plea for common sense. It was the first of three great protests which Korea has made against the use of the Chinese character. The other two will be examined as they come up. This set of endings which Sŭl-ch‘ong invented became stereotyped and through all the changes which the vernacular has passed the yi-du remains to-day what it was twelve hundred years ago. Its quaint sounds are to the Korean precisely what the stereotyped clerkly terms of England are to us, as illustrated in such legal terms as to wit, escheat and the like. There is an important corollary to this fact. The invention of the yi-du indicates that the study of Chinese was progressing in the peninsula and this system was invented to supply a popular demand. It was in the interests of general education and as such marks an era in the literary life of the Korean people. The name of Sŭl-ch‘ong is one of the most honored in the list of Korean literary men.

The eighth century opened with the beginning of a new and important reign for Sil-la. Sŭng-dŭk came to the throne in 702 and was destined to hold the reins of power for thirty-five years. From the first, his relations with China were pleasant. He received envoys from Japan and returned the compliment, and his representatives were everywhere well received. The twelfth year of his reign beheld the founding of the kingdom of Pal-hă in the north. This was an event of great significance to Sil-la. The Song-mal family of the Mal-gal group of tribes, under the leadership of Kŭl-gŭl Chung-sŭng, moved southward into the peninsula and settled near the original Tă-băk Mountain, now Myo-hyang San. There they gathered together many of the Ko-gu-ryŭ people and founded a kingdom which they called Chin. It is said this kingdom was 5,000 li in circumference and that it contained 200,000 houses. The remnants of the Pu-yŭ and Ok-jŭ tribes 121joined them and a formidable kingdom arose under the skillful management of Kŭl-gŭl Chung-sŭng. He sent his son to China as a hostage and received imperial recognition and the title of King of Pal-hă. From that time the word Mal-gal disappears from Korean history and Pal-hă takes its place.

During the next few years Sil-la made steady advance in civilization of the Chinese type. She imported from China pictures of Confucius and paid increased attention to that cult. The water clock was introduced, the title Hu was given to the Queen, the custom of approaching the throne by means of the sang-so or “memorial” was introduced.

Meanwhile the kingdom of Pal-hă was rapidly spreading abroad its arms and grasping at everything in sight. China began to grow uneasy on this account and we find that in 734 a Sil-la general, Kim Yun-jung went to China and joined a Chinese expedition against the Pal-hă forces. The latter had not only absorbed much territory in the north but had dared to throw troops across the Yellow Sea and had gained a foothold on the Shantung promontory. This attempt to chastise her failed because the season was so far advanced that the approach of winter interfered with the progress of the campaign.

The story of the next century and a half is the story of Sil-la’s decline and fall. The following is the list of omens which tradition cites as being prophetic of that event. A white rainbow pierced the sun; the sea turned to blood; hail fell of the size of hens’ eggs; a monastery was shaken sixteen times by an earthquake; a cow brought forth five calves at a time; two suns arose together; three stars fell and fought together in the palace; a tract of land subsided fifty feet and the hollow filled with blue black water; a tiger came into the palace; a black fog covered the land; famines and plagues were common; a hurricane blew over two of the palace gates; a huge boulder rose on end and stood by itself; two pagodas at a monastery fought with each other; snow fell in September; at Han-yang (Seoul) a boulder moved a hundred paces all by itself; stones fought with each other; a shower of worms fell; apricot trees bloomed twice in a year; a whirlwind started from the grave of Kim Yu-sin and stopped at the 122grave of Hyŭk Kŭ-se. These omens were scattered through a series of years but to the Korean they all point toward the coming catastrophe.

It was in 735 that the Emperor formally invested the king of Sil-la with the right to rule as far north as the banks of the Ta-dong River which runs by the wall of P‘yŭng-yang. It was a right he had long exercised but which had never before been acquiesced in by China. The custom of cremating the royal remains, which had been begun by King Mun-mu, was continued by his successors and in each case the ashes were thrown into the sea.

The first mention of the casting of a bell in Korea was in the year 754 when a bell one and one third the height of a man was cast. The records say it weighed 497,581 pounds, which illustrates the luxuriance of the oriental imagination.

In 757 the names of the nine provinces were changed. Sŭ-bŭl became Sang-ju, Sam-yang became Yang-ju, Ch’ŭng-ju became Kang-ju, Han-san became Han-ju, Ha-să became Myŭng-ju, Ung-chŭn became Ung-ju, Wan-san became Chŭn-ju, Mu-jin became Mu-ju, and Su-yak (called Mok-yak in the other list) was changed to Sak-ju. Following hard upon this came the change of the name of government offices.

As we saw at the first, Sil-la never had in her the making of a first class power. Circumstances forced her into the field and helped her win, and for a short time the enthusiasm of success made her believe that she was a military power; but it was an illusion. She was one of those states which would flourish under the fostering wing of some great patron but as for standing alone and carving out a career for herself, that was beyond her power. Only a few years had passed since she had taken possession of well-nigh the whole of the peninsula and now we see her torn by internal dissentions and so weak that the first man of power who arose and shook his sword at her doors made her fall to pieces like a house of cards. Let us rapidly bring under review the events of the next century from 780 to 880 and see whether the facts bear out the statement.

First a conspiracy was aimed at the king and was led by a courtier named Kim Chi-jong. Another man, Yang Sang, learned of it and promptly seized him and put him to death. 123A very meritorious act one would say; but he did it in order to put his foot upon the same ladder, for he immediately turned about and killed the king and queen and seated himself upon the throne. His reign of fifteen years contains only two important events, the repeopling of P‘yŭng-yang with citizens of Han-yang (Seoul), and the institution of written examinations after the Chinese plan. In 799 Chun-ong came to the throne and was followed a year later by his adopted son Ch‘ŭng-myŭng. These two reigns meant nothing to Sil-la except the reception of a Japanese envoy bearing gifts and an attempt at the repression of Buddhism. The building of monasteries and the making of gold and silver Buddhas was interdicted. It is well to remember that in all these long centuries no mention is made of a Korean envoy to Japan, though Japanese envoys came not infrequently to Sil-la. There is no mention in the records of any request on the part of the Japanese for Buddhist books or teachers and there seems to be no evidence from the Korean standpoint to believe that Japan received her Buddhism from Korea. Geographically it would seem probable that she might have done so but as a fact there is little to prove it. It would, geographically speaking, be probable also that Japan would get her pronunciation of the Chinese character by way of Korea but as a matter of fact the two methods of the pronunciation of Chinese ideographs are at the very antipodes. The probability is that Japan received her knowledge both of Buddhism and of the Chinese character direct from China and not mainly by way of Korea.

The condition of Sil-la during this period of decline may be judged from the events which occurred between the years 836 and 839 inclusive. King Su-jong was on the throne and had been ruling some eleven years, when, in 835 he died and his cousin Kyun-jăng succeeded him. Before the year was out Kim Myŭng a powerful official put him to death and put Che Yung on the throne. The son of the murdered king, Yu-jeung, fled to Ch‘ŭng-hă Fortress, whither many loyal soldiers flocked around him and enabled him to take the field against the usurper. Kim Myu finding that affairs did not go to suit him killed the puppet whom he had put on the throne and elevated himself to that position. After Yu-jeung, the rightful heir, had received large reinforcements from various 124sources, he attacked the forces of this parvenu at Mu-ju and gained a victory. The young prince followed up this success by a sharp attack on the self-made king who fled for his life but was pursued and captured. Yu-jeung then ascended the throne. This illustrates the weakness of the kingdom, in that any adventurer, with only daring and nerve, could seize the seat of power and hold it even so long as Kim Myŭng did. The outlying provinces practically governed themselves. There was no power of direction, no power to bring swift punishment upon disloyal adventurers, and the whole attitude of the kingdom invited insubordination. In this reign there were two other rebellions which had to be put down.

The year 896 shows a bright spot in a dark picture. The celebrated scholar Ch‘oé Ch‘i-wŭn appeared upon the scene. He was born in Sa-ryang. At the age of twelve he went to China to study; at eighteen he obtained a high literary degree at the court of China. He travelled widely and at last returned to his native land where his erudition and statesmanship found instant recognition. He was elevated to a high position and a splendid career lay before him; but he was far ahead of his time; one of those men who seem to have appeared a century or two before the world was ready for them. The low state of affairs at the court of Sil-la is proved by the intense hatred and jealousy which he unwittingly aroused. He soon found it impossible to remain in office; so he quietly withdrew to a mountain retreat and spent his time in literary pursuits. His writings are to be found in the work entitled Ko-un-jip. He is enshrined in the memory of Koreans as the very acme of literary attainment, the brightest flower of Sil-la civilization and without a superior in the annals of all the kingdoms of the peninsula.

Tradition asserts that signs began to appear and portents of the fall of Sil-la. King Chung-gang made a journey through the southern part of the country and returned by boat. A dense fog arose which hid the land. Sacrifice was offered to the genius of the sea, and the fog lifted and a strange and beautiful apparition of a man appeared who accompanied the expedition back to the capital and sang a song whose burden was that many wise men would die and that the capital would be changed. Chung-gang died the next year and was succeeded 125by his brother Chin-sung who lived but a year and then made way for his sister who became the ruler of the land. Her name was Man. Under her rule the court morals fell to about as low a point as was possible. When her criminal intimacy with a certain courtier, Eui-hong, was terminated by the death of the latter she took three or four other lovers at once, raising them to high offices in the state and caring as little for the real welfare of the country as she did for her own fair fame. Things reached such a pass that the people lost patience with her and insulting placards were hung in the streets of the capital calling attention to the depth of infamy to which the court had sunk.

It was in 892 that the great bandit Yang-gil arose in the north. His right hand man was Kung-ye, and as he plays an important part in the subsequent history of Sil-la we must stop long enough to give his antecedents. The story of his rise is the story of the inception of the Kingdom of Ko-ryŭ. It may be proper to close the ancient history of Korea at this point and begin the medieval section with the events which led up to the founding of Koryŭ.

PART II. MEDIEVAL KOREAN HISTORY

From 890 to 1392 A.D.

Chapter I. Kung-ye.... antecedents.... revolts.... Ch‘oé Ch‘i-wŭn.... retires.... Wang-gön.... origin.... Kung-ye successful.... advances Wang-gön himself King.... Wang-gön again promoted.... Sil-la court corrupt.... Kung-ye proclaims himself a Buddha.... condition of the peninsula.... Wang-gön accused.... refuses the throne.... forced to take it.... Kung-ye killed.... prophecy.... Wang-gön does justice..... Ko-ryŭ organized..... Buddhist festival..... Song-do.... Ko-ryŭ’s defenses.... Kyŭn-whŭn becomes Wang-gön’s enemy.... wild tribes submit.... China upholds Kyŭn-whŭn.... his gift to Wang-gön.... loots the capital of Sil-la.... Ko-ryŭ troops repulsed.... war.... Wang-gön visits Sil-la.... improvements.... Kyŭn-whŭn’s last stand.... imprisoned by his sons.... comes to Song-do.... Sil-la expires.... her last king comes to Song-do.... Wang-gön’s generosity.

Kung-ye was the son of King Hön-gang by a concubine. He was born on the least auspicious day of the year, the fifth of the fifth moon. He had several teeth when he was born which made his arrival the less welcome. The King ordered the child to be destroyed; so it was thrown out of the window. But the nurse rescued it and carried it to a place of safety where she nursed it and provided for its bringing up. As she was carrying the child to this place of safety she accidentally put out one of its eyes. When he reached man’s estate he became a monk under the name of Sŭn-jong. He was by nature ill fitted for the monastic life and soon found himself in the camp of the bandit Ki-whŭn at Chuk-ju. Soon he began to consider himself ill-treated by his new master and deserted him, finding his way later to the camp of the bandit Yang-gil at Puk-wŭn now Wŭn-ju. A considerable number of men accompanied 128him. Here his talents were better appreciated and he was put in command of a goodly force with which he soon overcame the districts of Ch‘un-ch‘ŭn, Nă-sŭng, Ul-o and O-jin. From this time Kung-ye steadily gained in power until he quite eclipsed his master. Marching into the western part of Sil-la he took ten districts and went into permanent camp.

The following year another robber, Kyŭn-whŭn, made head against Sil-la in the southern part of what is now Kyŭng-sang Province. He was a Sang-ju man. Having seized the district of Mu-ju he proclaimed himself King of Southern Sil-la. His name was originally Yi but when fifteen years of age he had changed it to Kyŭn. He had been connected with the Sil-la army and had risen step by step and made himself extremely useful by his great activity in the field. When, however, the state of Sil-la became so corrupt as to be a by-word among all good men, he threw off his allegiance to her, gathered about him a band of desperate criminals, outlaws and other disaffected persons and began the conquest of the south and west. In a month he had a following of 5,000 men. He found he had gone too far in proclaiming himself King and so modified his title to that of “Master of Men and Horses.” It is said of him that once, while still a small child, his father being busy in the fields and his mother at work behind the house, a tiger came along and the child sucked milk from its udder. This accounted for his wild and fierce nature.

At this time the great scholar Ch‘oé Ch‘i-wŭn, whom we have mentioned, was living at of Pu-sŭng. Recognizing the abyss of depravity into which the state was falling he formulated ten rules for the regulation of the government and sent them to Queen Man. She read and praised them but took no means to put them in force. Ch‘oé could no longer serve a Queen who made light of the counsels of her most worthy subjects and, throwing up his position, retired to Kwang-ju in Nam-san and became a hermit. After that he removed to Ping-san in Kang-ju, then to Ch‘ŭng-yang Monastery in Hyŭp-ju, then to Sang-gye Monastery at Ch‘i-ri San but finally made his permanent home at Ka-ya San where he lived with a few other choice spirits. It was here that he wrote his autobiography in thirteen volumes.

129In 896 Kung-ye began operating in the north on a larger scale. He took ten districts near Ch‘ŭl-wŭn and put them in charge of his young lieutenant Wang-gön who was destined to become the founder of a dynasty. We must now retrace our steps in order to tell of the origin of this celebrated man.

Wang-yŭng, a large-minded and ambitious man, lived in the town of Song-ak. To him a son was born in the third year of King Hön-gang of Sil-la, A.D. 878. The night the boy was born a luminous cloud stood above the house and made it as bright as day, so the story runs. The child had a very high forehead and a square chin, and he developed rapidly. His birth had long since been prophesied by a monk named To-sŭn who told Wang-yŭng, as he was building his house, that within its walls a great man would be born. As the monk turned to go Wang-yŭng called him back and received from him a letter which he was ordered to give to the yet unborn child when he should be old enough to read. The contents are unknown but when the boy reached his seventeenth year the same monk reappeared and became his tutor, instructing him especially in the art of war. He showed him also how to obtain aid from the heavenly powers, how to sacrifice to the spirits of mountain and stream so as to propitiate them. Such is the tradition that surrounds the origin of the youth who now in the troubled days of Sil-la found a wide field for the display of his martial skill.

Kung-ye first ravaged the country from Puk-wŭn to A-sil-la, with 600 followers. He there assumed the title of “Great General.” Then he reduced all the country about Nang-ch’ŭn, Han-san, Kwan-nă and Ch‘ŭl-wŭn. By this time his force had enormously increased and his fame had spread far and wide. All the wild tribes beyond the Ta-dong River did obeisance to him. But these successes soon began to turn his head. He styled himself “Prince” and began to appoint prefects to various places. He advanced Wang-gön to a high position and made him governor of Song-do. This he did at the instigation of Wang-yŭng who sent him the following enigmatical advice: “If you want to become King of Cho-sŭn, Suk-sin and Pyön-han you must build a wall about Song-do and make my son governor.” It was immediately done, and in this way Wang-gön was provided with a place for his capital.

130In 897 the profligate Queen Man of Sil-la handed the government over to her adopted son Yo and retired. This change gave opportunities on every side for the rebels to ply their trade. Kung-ye forthwith seized thirty more districts north of the Han River and Kyŭn-whŭn established his headquarters at Wan-san, now Chŭn-ju and called his kingdom New Păk-je. Wang-gön, in the name of Kung-ye, seized almost the whole of the territory included in the present provinces of Kyŭng-geui and Ch‘ung-ch‘ŭng. Finally in 901 Kung-ye proclaimed himself king and emphasized it by slashing with a sword the picture of the king of Sil-la which hung in a monastery. Two years later Wang-gön moved southward into what is now Chŭl-la Province and soon came in contact with the forces of Kyŭn-whŭn. In these contests the young Wang-gön was uniformly successful.

In 905 Kung-ye established his capital at Ch‘ŭl-wŭn in the present Kang-wŭn province and named his kingdom Ma-jin and the year was called Mut. Then he distributed the offices among his followers. By this time all the north and east had joined the standards of Kung-ye and Wang-gön even to within 120 miles of the Sil-la capital. The king and court of Sil-la were in despair. There was no army with which to take the field and all they could do was to defend the position they had as best they could and hope that Kyung-ye and Kyŭn-whŭn might destroy each other. In 909 Kung-ye called Sil-la “The Kingdom to be Destroyed” and set Wang-gön as military governor of all the south-west. Here he pursued an active policy, now fitting out ships with which to subjugate the neighboring islands and now leading the attack on Kyŭn-whŭn who always suffered in the event. His army was a model of military precision and order. Volunteers flocked to his standard. He was recognised as the great leader of the day. When, at last, Na-ju fell into the hands of the young Wang-gön, Kyŭn-whŭn decided on a desperate venture and suddenly appearing before that town laid siege to it. After ten days of unsuccessful assault he retired but Wang-gön followed and forced an engagement at Mok-p‘o, now Yŭng-san-p‘o, and gave him such a whipping that he was fain to escape alone and unattended.

Meanwhile Kung-ye’s character was developing. Cruelty 131and capriciousness became more and more his dominant qualities. Wang-gön never acted more wisely than in keeping as far as possible from the court of his master. His rising fame would have instantly roused the jealousy of Kung-ye.

Sil-la had apparently adopted the principle “Let us eat and be merry for to-morrow we die.” Debauchery ran rife at the court and sapped what little strength was left. Among the courtiers was one of the better stamp and when he found that the king preferred the counsel of his favorite concubine to his own, he took occasion to use a sharper argument in the form of a dagger, which at a blow brought her down from her dizzy eminence.

In 911 Kung-ye changed the name of his kingdom to Tă-bong. It is probable that this was because of a strong Buddhistic tendency that had at this time quite absorbed him. He proclaimed himself a Buddha, called himself Mi-ryŭk-pul, made both his sons Buddhists, dressed as a high priest and went nowhere without censers. He pretended to teach the tenets of Buddhism. He printed a book, and put a monk to death because he did not accept it as canonical. The more Kung-ye dabbled in Buddhism the more did all military matters devolve upon Wang-gön, who from a distance beheld with amazement and concern the dotage of his master. At his own request he was always sent to a post far removed from the court. At last Kung-ye became so infatuated that he seemed little better than a madman. He heated an iron to a white heat and thrust it into his wife’s womb because she continually tried to dissuade him from his Buddhistic notions. He charged her with being an adultress. He followed this up by killing both his sons and many other of the people near his person. He was hated as thoroughly as he was feared.

The year 918 was one of the epochal years of Korean history. The state of the peninsula was as follows. In the south-east, the reduced kingdom of Sil-la, prostrated by her own excesses, without an army, and yet in her very supineness running to excess of riot, putting off the evil day and trying to drown regrets in further debauchery. In the central eastern portion, the little kingdom of Kung-ye who had now become a tyrant and a madman. He had put his whole army under the hand of a young, skillful, energetic and popular man who had 132gained the esteem of all classes. In the south-west was another sporadic state under Kyŭn-whŭn who was a fierce, unscrupulous bandit, at swords points with the rising Wang-gön.

Suddenly Kung-ye awoke to the reality of his position. He knew he was hated by all and that Wang-gön was loved by all, and he knew too that the army was wholly estranged from himself and that everything depended upon what course the young general should pursue. Fear, suspicion and jealousy mastered him and he suddenly ordered the young general up to the capital. Wang-gön boldly complied, knowing doubtless by how slender a thread hung his fortunes. When he entered his master’s presence the latter exclaimed “You conspired against me yesterday.” The young man calmly asked how. Kung-ye pretended to know it through the power of his sacred office as Buddha. He said “Wait, I will again consult the inner consciousness.” Bowing his head he pretended to be communing with his inner self. At this moment one of the clerks purposely dropped his pen, letting it roll near to the prostrate form of Wang-gön. As the clerk stooped to pick it up, he whispered in Wang-gön’s ear “Confess that you have conspired.” The young man grasped the situation at once. When the mock Buddha raised his head and repeated the accusation Wang-gön confessed that it was true. The King was delighted at this, for he deceived himself into believing that he actually had acquired the faculty of reading men’s minds. This pleased him so greatly that he readily forgave the offence and merely warned the young man not to repeat it. After this he gave Wang-gön rich gifts and had more confidence in him than ever.

But the officials all besieged the young general with entreaties to crush the cruel and capricious monarch and assume the reins of government himself. This he refused to do, for through it all, he was faithful to his master. But they said “He has killed his wife and his sons and we will all fall a prey to his fickle temper unless you come to our aid. He is worse than the Emperor Chu.” Wang-gön, however, urged that it was the worst of crimes to usurp a throne. “But” said they “is it not much worse for us all to perish? If one does not improve the opportunity that heaven provides it is a sin.” He was unmoved by this casuistry and stood his ground firmly. 133At last even his wife joined in urging him to lay aside his foolish scruples and she told the officials to take him by force and carry him to the palace, whether he would or not. They did so, and bearing him in their arms they burst through the palace gate and called upon the wretch Kung-ye to make room for their chosen king. The terrified creature fled naked but was caught at Pu-yang, now P‘yŭng-gang, and beheaded.

Tradition says that this was all in fulfillment of a prophecy which was given in the form of an enigma. A Chinese merchant bought a mirror of a Sil-la man and in the mirror could be seen these words: “Between three waters—God sends his son to Chin and Ma—First seize a hen and then a duck—in the year Ki-ja two dragons will arise, one in a green forest and one east of black metal.” The merchant presented it to Kung-ye who prized it highly and sought everywhere for the solution of the riddle. At last the scholar Song Han-hong solved it for him as follows. “The Chin and Ma mean Chin-han and Ma-han. The hen is Kye-rim (Sil-la). The duck is the Am-nok (duck-blue) River. The green forest is pine tree or Song-do (Pine Tree Capital) and black metal is Ch‘ŭl-wŭn (Ch‘ŭl is metal). So a king in Song-do must arise (Wang-gön) and a king in Ch‘ŭl-wŭn must fall (Kung-ye).” Wang-gön began by bringing to summary justice the creatures of Kung-ye who seconded him in his cruelty; some of them were killed and some were imprisoned. Everywhere the people gave themselves up to festivities and rejoicings.

But the ambitious general, Whan Son-gil, took advantage of the unsettled state of affairs to raise an insurrection. Entering the palace with a band of desperadoes he suddenly entered the presence of Wang-gön who was without a guard. The King rose from his seat, and looking the traitor in the face said “I am not King by my own desire or request. You all made me King. It was heaven’s ordinance and you cannot kill me. Approach and try.” The traitor thought that the King had a strong guard secreted near by and turning fled from the palace. He was caught and beheaded.

Wang-gön sent messages to all the bandit chiefs and invited them to join the new movement, and soon from all sides they came in and swore allegiance to the young king. Kyŭn-whŭn, however, held aloof and sought for means to put down 134the new power. Wang-gön set to work to establish his kingdom on a firm basis. He changed the official system and established a new set of official grades. He rewarded those who had been true to him and remitted three years’ revenues. He altered the revenue laws, requiring the people to pay much less than heretofore, manumitted over a thousand slaves and gave them goods out of the royal storehouses with which to make a start in life. As P‘yŭng-yang was the ancient capital of the country he sent one of the highest officials there as governor. And he finished the year with a Buddhist festival, being himself a Buddhist of a mild type. This great annual festival is described as follows:—There was an enormous lantern, hung about with hundreds of others, under a tent made of a net-work of silk cords. Music was an important element. There were also representations of dragons, birds, elephants, horses, carts and boats. Dancing was prominent and there were in all a hundred forms of entertainment. Each official wore the long flowing sleeves and each carried the ivory memo tablet. The king sat upon a high platform and watched the entertainment.

The next year he transferred his court to Song-do which became the permanent capital. There he built his palace and also the large merchants’ houses and shops in the center of the city. This latter act was in accordance with the ancient custom of granting a monopoly of certain kinds of trade and using the merchants as a source of revenue when a sudden need for money arose. He divided the city into five wards and established seven military stations. He also established a secondary capital at Ch‘ŭl-wŭn, the present Ch‘un-ch‘ŭn, and called it Tong-ju. The pagodas and Buddhas in both the capitals were regilded and put in good order. The people looked with some suspicion upon these Buddhistic tendencies but he told them that the old customs must not be changed too rapidly, for the kingdom had need of the help of the spirits in order to become thoroughly established, and that when that was accomplished they could abandon the religion as soon as they pleased. Here was his grand mistake. He riveted upon the state a baneful influence which was destined to drag it into the mire and eventually bring it to ruin.

In 920 Sil-la first recognised Koryŭ as a kingdom 135and sent an envoy with presents to the court at Song-do.