Late in the autumn the aged king was taken sick and all knew that the end was near. The conditions were not propitious. The young prince was only two years old and Prince Kwang-hă was fierce in his resentments and jealous of anyone who should attempt to block his path to the throne. The people were in a very uneasy frame of mind. The king had gone either too far or not far enough in the advocacy of the infant prince, and now he felt that he was leaving the child to the tender mercies of a relentless enemy. He therefore called in the Prime Minister and said, “Everything looks dark ahead and I am dying. I suppose the Prince Kwang-hă must become king?” But the Prime Minister dared not answer the question as the king wanted it answered, and hung back. By so doing he sealed his own fate. There were only two things for him to do, either to boldly advocate the claims of the child or else boldly advocate those of Prince Kwang-hă. By doing neither he made an enemy of the one and spoiled the chances of the other, and thus signed his own death warrant. As it happened, Prince Kwang-hŭ had an elder brother, but why he had not been nominated to the throne we are not told. This prince, named Im-hŭ, was now induced to make the attempt to wrest the reins of power from his brother so as to save the people from what they feared at the hands of Prince Kwang-hă, but the latter got wind of the plot and the elder prince was summarily banished, together with all his coadjutors. So matters went on until one day in early spring of the following year, 1608, when a servant came from the king’s private rooms saying that he was dying. All the officials assembled at the palace. It is said that Prince Kwang-hă had become impatient at the tenacity of life shown by the aged king and had assisted nature in taking him off, but this, we may surmise, is rather a general deduction from the character of the man than a proved charge, and this prince has so much else to answer for that we may well give him the benefit of the doubt and conclude that the king reached his end by natural causes alone. The assembled noblemen sat in the room adjoining the one in which the king lay dying. Presently a eunuch brought out a note which read thus, “When I am dead let Prince Kwang-hă be kind to the infant boy.” When the ministers had read it they sent it to the prince. Soon another note came from the sick room, “To the seven ministers of state; I am dying. I have but one cause of anxiety; the boy is young and I shall not be here to see him come to manhood. Let him be tenderly cared for.” This was the end. The king turned to the wall and expired.