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 with 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-nyeCh’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 and there proved so skillful a diplomatdiplomat 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 torturedtortured 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 byby 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 she 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, nornor 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 from 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.
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