Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books, including Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.
Yoon Suk Yeol and Yi Gwal — The mark of destiny
Former President Yoon Suk Yeol with “king” written on his hand / Captured from MBN News.
By Robert Neff
History has a way of repeating itself. Rarely is it blatantly obvious, but it often manifests through tantalizing coincidences that leave you shaking your head in disbelief.
An image of former President Yoon Suk Yeol, taken in 2021 during his presidential campaign, drew significant — and mostly negative — attention. Clearly visible on his hand was the Chinese character 王 (king) which “sparked controversy over his alleged ties to shamanism.” Yet, when I saw the image, shamanism wasn’t what came to mind; instead, I thought of Gen. Yi Gwal and his 1624 coup.
Yi Gwal was a fascinating historical figure, shrouded in a mix of legend, facts and political falsehoods. Unfortunately, because I primarily concentrate on Korean history in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, I have a very superficial understanding of the general. What I do know comes from the tidbits gleaned from the early historical accounts published by Westerners and the scattered entries in the Veritable Records of the Joseon Dynasty.
The serenity of Gyeonghui Palace in the summer of 2023 / Robert Neff Collection
In March 1895, Horace N. Allen — who came to Korea in 1885 as a missionary and later served as the American representative to Korea — wrote a very short but interesting account of the general.
According to Allen, when Yi Gwal was born, the Chinese character for three (三) was clearly visible on the palm of his right hand. As the boy grew into manhood, he became possessed “with many strange fancies” centered on the peculiar mark.
“One day he conceived of the idea of completing this character so that it should mean king, by giving it another stroke, 王. He cut his hand intending to let it heal, when the scar would answer the purpose of completing the character.”
In the late 19th century, the palace was rumored to be haunted by goblins and nefarious spirits. Robert Neff Collection
However, the destiny-altering cut bled profusely. Yi Gwal struck the paper-covered wall — perhaps in an effort to stem the flow of blood. When he lifted his hand away, he was surprised, if not startled, to see three very distinct Chinese characters left behind: 三日王, meaning “three days king.”
Allen, in a caustic and overly simplified manner, concluded that Yi Gwal was driven by his “fancies and brooding” to rebel against his king. However, Yi Gwal was far more complex than Allen’s brief summary suggests. Since the spring of 1608, Gwanghaegun — the 15th monarch of Joseon — sat precariously upon his throne.
Homer Hulbert, in his “History of Korea” (1905), described Gwanghaegun as a superstitious usurper who “feared everyone that was honest and upright.” To secure his rule, the king ruthlessly purged his court — including family members — of anyone who might pose a threat to his rule. While his power inspired fear, he was also mocked for his own paranoia: “even the children on the street spoke insultingly of the tyrant” and his fears of ghosts and goblins.
The beauty of Sungjeongjeon in Gyounghui Palace / Robert Neff Collection
It is somewhat ironic that this same monarch was responsible for the construction of Gyeonghui Palace — a place that Westerners in the late 19th century would come to refer to as the haunted palace.
In his writings, Hulbert vividly recorded “the downfall of this wretched parody of a king” in the spring of 1623. A group of men, including Yi Gwal, secretly raised a small army and plotted to overthrow Gwanghaegun. On the appointed night of the coup, they discovered that there was a traitor among them who had told the king of the plot. Fortunately for the rebels, “the king was in a drunken carouse at the time this interesting bit of information and forgot all about it.”
At the end of March 1624, Yi Gwal’s rebel forces appeared on the outskirts of Seoul. According to Allen, King Injo, learning of Yi Gwal’s success, fled the capital for the south, allowing the rebels to enter the city virtually unopposed. The rebel leader then proclaimed “himself King [and] went to live at the Mulberry Palace where he actually reigned three days, after which the royal troops defeated his followers and he was executed.”
Allen’s account of the events surrounding Yi Gwal’s entrance into Seoul and his subsequent demise is rather vague and incorrect. Yi Gwal was not the king — he was merely the kingmaker.
Perhaps more dangerous than ghosts and goblins were the tigers and leopards that prowled the palace grounds in the late 19th century / Robert Neff Collection
According to Hulbert’s richer account: As Yi Gwal’s forces approached the capital, the king was warned that he must flee immediately. “Without an hour’s delay the king mounted his steed and fled by way of the South Gate, leaving the city in a perfect frenzy of fear.”
He and his party arrived at the Han River but the ferrymen were nowhere to be found — having sought refuge with their boats on the southern bank of the river. It was only through the efforts of a loyal officer — who swam across the river in the darkness — were six boats secured and King Injo and his party successfully crossed the river and subsequently made their way to Gongju, in today’s South Chungcheong Province.
The day after King Injo fled the capital, a small delegation of rebels entered the city and reassured the populace that there was nothing to fear. Then Yi Gwal proudly entered the capital as a hero.
“Many small officials and a great crowd of people went out to meet him and scattered red earth along the road in front of him, which [was] a special prerogative of royalty.” They were not the only ones to greet the rebel leader.
26-year-old Prince Heungan, either through fear or ambition fueled by the revolt’s apparent success, aligned himself with Yi Gwal, and was subsequently rewarded by being proclaimed the new monarch of Joseon. Almost immediately “thousands of adventurers and low fellows sought and obtained official appointments under the new regime.”
The entrance into the past / Robert Neff Collection
But Heungan, the usurper, and Yi Gwal, the rebel leader, were unaware that a loyalist army from the north had advanced to the outskirts of Seoul — hidden by darkness and the sound of their approach masked by an eastern wind. Thousands of slips of paper were smuggled into the city and distributed to the people announcing that on the following day, anyone who presented the slip to the loyalist soldiers would receive a reward.
The following morning, Yi Gwal fatally misjudged the size of the loyalist army and rushed out to do battle — the eastern wind adding distance to his arrows and hindering the loyalist army. But Mother Nature is a cruel mistress and suddenly the wind shifted direction and “drove the sand and dust into the eyes” of the rebel army.
The rebel army tried to retreat back into the city only to discover the citizens had closed the gates and refused to grant them entry. Yi Gwal and his army fled south and were quickly whittled down to a couple dozen men. Yi Gwal’s end came not from the swords of his enemies, but from the blades of his own companions.
According to Hulbert: “[Two] of his followers, seeing that the game had been played to a finish and hoping to save their own lives, went into [Yi Gwal’s] room by night and severed his head from the body.”
As for Heungan, he, too, fled Seoul but was later captured and escorted to Seoul where he was to await the arrival of King Injo who would decide his fate. However, Gen. Sim Gi-won, a loyalist, denounced him as a traitor and had him executed before the king arrived. Thus ended Heungan’s three-day reign.
Yi Gwal and former President Yoon Suk Yeol both seemingly tried to alter their destinies by inscribing the symbol of “king” upon their hands — and both failed. Yi Gwal lost his head at the hands of his supporters. Yoon Suk Yeol’s ultimate fate remains to be decided by the citizens of South Korea.