Chapter 194
There are many idiots in this world who cannot be understood within the bounds of common sense.
Even in the twenty-first-century modern society Kim Daebung lived in, there were fools who seriously believed that the Earth was flat and that chocolate milk was milk milked from brown-furred cows.
Likewise, there were people in yangban society who had studied just enough to avoid being illiterate, yet were unable to exercise proper judgment.
The man voicing such an ignorant opinion at a gathering of the yangban of Andong Daedohobu was a prime example.
"To be honest, don't all of you gathered here feel wronged?"
"What is it that you find so unfair, Juksan?"
The scholar who went by the pen name Juksan complained of being wronged.
"In fact, when Joseon was founded, was not the reason His Majesty King Taejo exempted us yangban from military service so that we could manage order in our communities and devote ourselves to learning?"
Except during periods when the Three Administrations were in severe disorder, yangban also paid taxes.
However, because yangban were socially superior to ordinary commoners, they were exempted from performing military service.
Once the Equalized Military Service Act was implemented during the reign of King Yeongjo, it was considered undignified for yangban to pay military cloth just like commoners, so they paid taxes instead under the name of gyeoljakmi.
"Then why is His Majesty now ordering us yangban to pay an annual tax of as much as ten seom of polished rice per household instead of serving in the military? This is an outrage that tramples on King Taejo's intention to recognize our role and show us consideration!"
When the fool with the pen name Juksan said this, several scholars chimed in with words of agreement.
"Juksan is not wrong. We yangban lend grain to feed the people in years of famine. If we did not, truly many commoners would be unable to endure their hunger and would die. Moreover, every year on holidays or days when ancestral rites are held, we invariably gather the villagers and prepare a lavish feast. As for the women who help prepare the table, we pack food for them to take home so they will not leave empty-handed. Have we not faithfully fulfilled our duty as yangban to look after the people?"
"Let us gather the will of the yangban of Andong Daedohobu, write a joint petition bearing all our signatures, and ask His Majesty to correct this misguided system!"
"If you write the petition, Juksan, I will join you."
From the yangban's perspective, having an annual tax of ten seom of polished rice added to what they had previously never had to pay was a shock like being struck on the head with a mallet out of nowhere.
So I could understand to some extent why there were people who felt resentful, but...
An Jae-ho, the village headman of Seomyeon in Andong Daedohobu, spoke sternly while looking at Juksan.
“Have you perhaps been possessed by the ghost of Goryeo?”
When the words “a fellow possessed by the ghost of Goryeo,” something one should never say to another person in Joseon, came from the headman's mouth, the atmosphere at the gathering instantly turned icy.
Juksan, having been subjected to such harsh words, protested.
"No, how can you say that I have been possessed by the ghost of Goryeo? Isn't that something you say only to a lunatic with a death wish? Tell me honestly. Are you saying that you, Headman, do not feel wronged by this measure? Surely King Taejo exempted us yangban from military service so that we could educate the people and devote ourselves to our studies, yet now you say we must pay more taxes instead of serving in the military. Does that make any sense?"
"Do you think I am happy about suddenly being told to pay more taxes?"
No one in this world likes paying taxes.
Whether it is money I earned by working and sweating myself, or rent received from land inherited from my parents, having to take a portion of my income and offer it to the state...
naturally makes me feel as though my hard-earned money is being extorted by the government.
'Still, I suppose I have to accept that the more one has, the more one should pay.'
"But do you really think the common people are happy about sending their sons into the army? Do you mean they like having to serve three years of military duty as soon as they turn fifteen simply because they were born male?"
"How can they be the same as us?"
"They are people just like us. Just as you do not want to send your son to serve, commoners do not want to send theirs into the army either."
As he listened to the headman, Juksan—no, Kim Jangho—felt his rebuttals gradually running out.
"And if yangban like us refuse to pay this tax, do you really think we will be able to live peacefully in this district?"
“No, what exactly do you mean by that?”
“Unlike them, we only have to pay about ten seom of polished rice a year to keep our sons out of the army. If there is a yangban who refuses even that, do you think they will look kindly on him?”
Although premodern society had no labor laws, the quality of life of farmers—the occupation of most commoners in Joseon—was maintained to some extent because village and regional customs protected the people's lives.
Even tenant rents, if collected ruthlessly, could be as high as 70 percent, as the landlords of Amtae Island did during the Japanese colonial period, but...
If they did that, even a yangban might have his head smashed in by the villagers or be stabbed to death with bamboo spears, so they maintained a reasonably appropriate line under the name of “custom.”
Through this tacit agreement, the commoners belonging to local communities would send their sons to the army for three years once they turned fifteen, while yangban were exempted from military duty by paying ten seom of polished rice per household every year.
But there was a yangban who said he would not pay it?
In the worst case, it might be the villagers living in the same village, rather than the distant king, who smashed his head in.
“I understand wanting to save money, but a yangban living in Joseon under the king's grace ought to have at least a shred of conscience. You rotten bastard. For the time being, do not even dream of expecting to be greeted as a yangban anywhere in our district. Get out. I do not even want to look at you.”
Kim Jangho was expelled from the yangban gathering by Headman An Jae-ho.
Yet not one of those present followed Kim Jangho as he was driven out, his face bright red.
If they supported someone who had put on such an ugly spectacle merely to save a little money, then, like standing beside a dog covered in shit and getting it on yourself...
it was obvious they would be cursed within yangban society as a complete scoundrel who begrudged paying ten seom of polished rice every year instead of going to the army, simply for supporting Kim Jangho.
An Jae-ho clicked his tongue while looking at the place Kim Jangho had left.
“I saved a man's life today. If that fellow had submitted a petition containing exactly what he said, he would have been struck in the head with an iron mace.”
Yi Bang-won hated killing people.
It was only that killing Jeong Mong-ju and purging his own in-laws had left such a strong impression that when people heard the name Yi Bang-won, they mistakenly imagined him as a man who went around smashing people's heads like watermelons with an iron mace.
Yi Bang-won once forgave children who had unknowingly cursed the royal family, even accepting a slight weakening of royal authority in the process.
A king who loved children that much—how could he possibly enjoy killing people?
Therefore, even if Kim Jangho had submitted a petition, Yi Bang-won would not have flattened the head on his shoulders or torn it from his body.
He merely would have scattered Kim Jangho's petition throughout every district in the country, immortalizing Kim Jangho and his family's names in the pages of history.
Of course, yangban feared that even more than death.
“Paying taxes is one thing, but since things have come to this, why do we not all form a kye, pool whatever funds we can afford, and donate them to the local office so the soldiers can eat their fill?”
“Do we really have to go that far?”
“The other districts may not do this, but if it becomes known that here in Andong Daedohobu, our yangban voluntarily formed a kye to ease the soldiers' hardships... His Majesty will probably bestow great royal favor on us. Just as he did when a stele praising our virtue was erected in faraway Jinhae-hyeon.”
For yangban who lived and died by honor, erecting such a stele in their village was the greatest achievement of their lives.
According to Kim Daebung, it was an achievement worthy of boasting about even to one's grandson's grandson.
The scholars of Andong Daedohobu perked up their ears when the headman mentioned the stele.
“Now, they say one should strike while the iron is hot... Let us use this opportunity to discuss how much wealth we should contribute for the soldiers.”
A week later, the government office of Andong Daedohobu received an enormous donation of 4,000 seom of polished rice voluntarily collected by the yangban of the district.
This news apparently pleased Yi Bang-won, and a memorial gate honoring their loyalty was erected in Andong.
Yet even as matters proceeded in this manner, quite a few people across the country submitted petitions because they thought paying ten seom of polished rice was too great a waste.
**
“They say the world is wide and full of madmen.”
It is a famous saying often used in certain online communities, and for something coined by a community, it cuts remarkably close to the truth of the world.
The world is wide, and there really are many fellows possessed by the ghost of Goryeo.
No fewer than 45 yangban bastards nationwide submitted protest petitions claiming that it made no sense to make yangban pay ten seom of polished rice.
If only 45 people were gathered from all over the country, that was not many at all, but what sort of nerve had possessed the fellow who wrote a petition like this to commit such madness?
“Seeing as he invoked His Majesty King Taejo while protesting that this was unjust, we ought to kill him.”
While I was going insane from disbelief, Choe Yun-deok hurried over to where I was.
Upon seeing my face, he asked immediately without even greeting me.
“His Majesty the Retired King says it would be good to send every one of these fellows possessed by the ghost of Goryeo who submitted petitions to join Goryeo. What do you think?”
It would be wrong to kill people simply because they had written protest petitions saying they did not want to pay taxes.
Smashing their heads would not solve anything, either.
“Are they not people begging and pleading to have their names remain in the annals as objects of shame? Since that is their wish, we should honor it and make them objects of public ridicule.”
Keeping such fellows alive for the rest of their lives and turning them into laughingstocks would be the proper punishment.
We could make examples of them and have them mocked for the rest of their lives.
Like a certain fellow who moved to America to dodge military service and can never even enter Korea again.
And the one who invoked King Taejo should be publicly shamed to our hearts' content before being sent to join Goryeo.