A Mongol proposal.... “The Revellers”.... friends with the Mongols....
Gen. Yi takes up arms against the Japanese.... victorious.... envoys
to and from Japan.... gun-powder.... defeat turned into victory by
Gen. Yi.... fire arrows.... vacillation.... prophecy.... Japan helps
Koryŭ.... jealousies.... a reckless king.... Gen. Yi’s stratagem....
a triumphal return.... the emperor loses patience.... a coast
guard.... stone fights.... heavy tribute.... the capital moved....
Japanese repelled.... lukewarm Koryŭ.... a disgraceful act.... Gen.
Yi victorious in the north.... the emperor angry.... Japan sends
back Koryŭ captives.... a skillful diplomat.... fine sarcasm.... a
grave error.... victory in the northeast.... untold excesses....
“Old Cat”.... tribute rejected.
Toward the close of 1377 the Mongol chieftain In-puk-wŭn sent the king a
letter saying, “Let us join forces and attack the Ming power.” At the
same time he sent back all the Koryŭ people who had been taken captive
at various times. The king’s answer was a truly diplomatic one. He said,
“I will do so if you will first send the king of Mukden to me, bound
hand and foot.” We need hardly say that this request was not granted.
The next attack of the Japanese extended all along the southern coast.
The general who had been placed in the south to guard against them spent
his time feasting with courtezans and he and his officers were commonly
known as “The Revellers.” Fighting was not at all in their intentions.
When the king learned of this he banished the general to a distant
island. Affairs at the capital were not going well. Officials were so
numerous that the people again made use of the term “Smoke House
Officials,” for there were so many that nearly every house in the
capital furnished one. They tampered with the list of appointments and
without the king’s knowledge slipped in the names of their friends. So
the people in contempt called it the “Secret List.”
The coquetting with the Mongols brought forth fruit when early in 1378
they invested the king of Koryŭ and he adopted the Mongol name of the
year. It is said that this caused great delight among the Mongols and
that they now thought that with the help of Koryŭ they would be able to
again establish their power in China.
After the Japanese had ravaged to their hearts’ content in Ch‘ung-ch‘ŭng
Province and had killed 1000 men on Kang-wha and had burned fifty boats,
the king did what he ought to have done long before, namely, appointed
Gen. Yi T‘ă-jo as General-in-chief of the Koryŭ forces. He took hold of
the matter in earnest and summoned a great number of monks to aid in the
making of boats for coast defence. The pirates now were ravaging the
east and south and were advancing on Song-do. The king wanted to run
away but was dissuaded. The Japanese were strongest in Kyŭng-sang
Province. Gen Yi’s first encounter with them was at Chi-ri Mountain in
Chŭl-la Province and he there secured a great victory, demonstrating
what has always been true, that under good leadership Koreans make
excellent soldiers. When the Koryŭ troops had advanced within 200 paces
of the enemy a burly Japanese was seen leaping and showing himself off
before his fellows. Gen. Yi took a cross-bow and at the first shot laid
the fellow low. The remainder of the Japanese fled up the mountain and
took their stand in a solid mass which the records say resembled a
hedge-hog; but Gen. Yi soon found a way to penetrate this phalanx and
the pirates were slaughtered almost to a man. But Gen. Yi could not be
everywhere at once and in the meantime Kang-wha again suffered. Gen. Yi
was next seen fighting in Whang-hă Province at Hă-ju, where he burned
the Japanese out from behind wooden defenses and slaughtered them
without quarter.
The Japanese Government had not been able as yet to put down the
pirates, but now an envoy, Sin Hong, a monk, came with gifts declaring
that the government was not a party to the expeditions of the
freebooters and that it was very difficult to overcome them. And so the
work went on, now on one coast of the country and now on another. The
king sent an envoy to the Japanese Shogun, P‘ă-ga-dă, to ask his
interference, but the shogun imprisoned the envoy and nearly starved him
to death and then sent him back. The king wanted to send another, but
the courtiers were all afraid. They all hated the wise and learned Chöng
Mong-ju and told the king to send him. He was quite willing to go and,
arriving at the palace of the shogun, he spoke out fearlessly and
rehearsed the friendly relations that had existed between the two
countries, and created a very good impression. He was very popular both
with the shogun himself and with the Japanese courtiers and when he
returned to Koryŭ the shogun sent a general, Chu Mang-in, as escort and
also 200 Koreans who had at some previous time been taken captive. The
shogun also so far complied with the king’s request as to break up the
piratical settlements on the Sam-do or “Three islands.”
A man named Im Sŭn-mu had learned among the Mongols the art of making
gunpowder and a bureau was now formed to attend to its manufacture but
as yet there were no firearms.
With the opening of 1379 things looked blacker than ever. The Japanese
were swarming in Ch‘ung-ch‘ŭng Province and on Kang-wha. The king was in
mortal fear and had the walls of Song-do carefully guarded. Gen. Ch‘oe
Yŭng was sent to hold them in check. The Japanese knew that no one but
he stood between them and Song-do so they attacked him fiercely and soon
put him to flight; but in the very nick of time Gen. Yi T‘ă-jo came up
with his cavalry, turned the retreating forces about and attacked the
enemy so fiercely that defeat was turned into a splendid victory. A
messenger arrived breathless at the gate of Song-do saying that Gen.
Ch‘oé had been defeated.
All was instantly in turmoil; the king had all his valuables packed and
was ready to flee at a moment’s warning. But lo! another messenger
followed hard upon the heels of the first announcing that Gen. Yi had
turned the tide of battle and had wrested victory from the teeth of the
enemy.
The good will of the Japanese government was shown when a prefect in
western Japan sent sixty soldiers under the command of a monk, Sin Hong,
to aid in the putting down of the corsairs. They made some attempts to
check their lawless countrymen but soon found that they had undertaken
more than they had bargained for, and so returned to Japan. As the
pirates were ravaging the west coast as far north as P‘yŭng-yang, the
king sent against them Generals Na Se and Sim Tŭk-pu who had been
successful before. By the use of fire-arrows they succeeded in burning
several of the enemy’s boats at Chin-p‘o and of course had the fellows
at their mercy, for they had no means of escape.
It is evident the king did not know his own mind in relation to Chinese
suzerainty. Now he favored the Mongols and now the Mings. A year or so
before this he had adopted the Mongol name of the year but now he turns
about and adopts the Ming name again. It was this vacillation, this
playing fast and loose with his obligations, that alienated the
good-will of the Ming emperor and made him look with complacency upon
the dissolution of the Koryŭ dynasty.
Late in the autumn of 1379 the Japanese were again in dangerous
proximity to the capital and the king wanted to move to a safer place.
The geomancers’ book of prophecies indicated Puk-so San as “A narrow
place and good for a king to live in,” but the courtiers opposed it,
saying that there was no large river flowing near by, on which the
government rice could be brought by boat to the capital. So it was given
up.
There was a Mongol general named Ko-ga-no who had become independent of
the main body of the Mongols and had set up a separate government on his
own responsibility in Liao-tung. He was wavering between natural ties on
the one hand, which bound him to the Mongols, and the dictates of common
sense on the other, which indicated the rising fortunes of the Ming. He
chose a middle course by coming with his 40,000 men and asking the
privilege of joining Koryŭ. The records do not say whether permission
was given or not, but we may easily believe it was.
In 1380 the Japanese government sent 180 soldiers under the command of
Gen. Pak Kŭ-sa to aid in driving the pirates out of Koryŭ. In the midst
of these dangers from freebooters, jealousy was undermining the
government at Song-do. Gen. Yi T‘ă-jo had a friend named Gen. Yang
Păk-yŭn who now under false charges, enviously made by officials near
the king, was banished and then killed. It was wonderful that the fame
of Gen. Yi did not bring about his murder.
The Ming emperor thought, and rightly, that the king was a very fickle
individual and sent a letter asking him why it was that he had no
settled policy but did everything as the impulse of the moment led. The
king’s reply is not recorded but that he did not take to heart the
admonitions of the emperor is quite evident, for he plunged into greater
excesses than ever. His ill-timed hunting expeditions, his drunkenness
and debauchery were the scandal of the country. The people thought he
ought to be hunting Japanese pirates rather than wild boar and deer.
Even while the Japanese were ravaging Ch‘ung-ch‘ŭng Province the king
was trampling down the people’s rice-fields in the pursuit of game. He
stole the people’s cattle and horses whenever he needed them and if he
chanced to see a good looking girl anywhere he took means to possess
himself of her person by fair means or foul. He was indeed the son of
Sin-don both by blood and by disposition.
This year the ravages of the freebooters exceeded anything that had been
known before. The southern provinces were honeycombed by them. Generals
Pă Keuk-yŭm and Chöng Chi were sent against them but without result. At
last the Japanese laughingly asserted that they soon would be in the
city of Song-do. They might have gone there if Gen. Yi had not been sent
in person to direct the campaign against them. Hastening south he
rallied around him all the available troops and came to Un-bong in
Chŭl-la province. He ascended Chöng San which lay six miles from the
camp of the enemy. From this point he perceived that there were two
roads leading to this camp; one broad and easy and the other narrow and
rough. With great sagacity he judged that the Japanese would take the
narrow road, hoping to make a counter march on him. So he sent a
considerable force by the broad road but selected a band of trusty men
to form an ambush on the narrow one. The Japanese acted precisely as he
had foreseen. When they learned that the Koryŭ army was approaching they
hastened away by the narrow road and so fell into the ambush, where they
were severely handled. Fifty of their number were left dead. The
remainder sought safety in the mountains but were soon brought to bay.
The whole Koryŭ army was called up and the attack upon the Japanese
position was begun. It was necessary to attack up a steep incline and
Gen. Yi had two horses shot out from under him, and an arrow pierced his
leg; but he drew it out and continued the fight. Among the enemy was a
man stronger and larger than the rest. He stood spear in hand and danced
about, urging on his comrades. He was encased in armor and on his head
was a copper helmet. There was no opening for an arrow to enter; so Gen.
Yi said to his lieutenant, Yi Tu-ran, “Make ready an arrow and when I
strike off his helmet do you aim at his face.” Gen. Yi took careful aim
and struck off the man’s helmet and swift behind his arrow flew that of
his lieutenant which laid the fellow low. This demoralized the enemy and
they were soon hewn down. It is said that for days the stream near by
ran red with blood. As the result of this victory 1600 horses were taken
and a large amount of spoil, including implements of war.
When the victorious general returned to Song-do he was given a triumphal
entry and fifty ounces of gold and other gifts were distributed among
the generals who assisted him. It is said that, from that time on,
whenever the news came that a Japanese band had disembarked on the
southern coast the first word that was spoken was, “Where is Gen. Yi
T‘ă-jo?”
The long-suffering emperor at last tired of the erratic course of the
Koryŭ king and decided to bring a little pressure to bear upon him in
order to bring him to his senses. He ordered the king to send him each
year a thousand horses, a hundred pounds of gold, five thousand ounces
of silver and five thousand pieces of cotton cloth. This was beyond the
means of the king, but he succeeded in sending three hundred ounces of
gold, a thousand ounces of silver, four hundred and fifty horses and
four thousand five hundred pieces of cotton. This large amount of
tribute was delivered into the hands of the governor of Liao-tung to be
sent to the imperial court, but the governor declared that as the tax
was a penal one and not merely for tribute he could not accept less than
the full amount required. So he drove the envoy away.
In 1382 the government adopted a new policy in the matter of coast
defense. In all the larger seaport towns generals were stationed in
charge of considerable bodies of troops and in the smaller towns
garrisons of proportional strength. The constant coming and going of
these troops was a terrible drain upon the resources of the people but
there was no help for it. The piratical raids of the Japanese had now
become so frequent that no attempt was made to keep a record of them. It
would have been easier for the people to bear had the king showed any of
the characteristics of manhood, but his feasts and revels saw no
abatement. Frequently he was so intoxicated that he fell from his horse
while hunting. He peopled the palace with dancing-girls and it may be
said of him as it was of Nero that he “fiddled while Rome was burning.”
As the king rode forth to hunt with falcon on wrist the eunuchs rode
behind him singing ribald Mongol songs. When other pleasures cloyed he
invented a sort of mock battle in which stones were used as missiles. It
is believed by many that this was the beginning of the popular
“stone-fight,” which is such a unique custom of Korea today. Once he
amused himself by pretending that he was going to bury one of his
officials alive behind the palace, and he hugely enjoyed the poor
fellow’s shrieks and struggles. He made this same official put up his
hat as a target, than which hardly anything could be a greater disgrace,
for the hat in Korea is the badge of citizenship and is held in such
esteem that no one will attend to the duties of nature without taking
off his hat and laying it aside.
Being hard pressed by the emperor in the matter of tribute it is said
that in 1383 he sent to the Ming court a hundred pounds of gold, ten
thousand ounces of silver, ten thousand pieces of linen and a thousand
horses. The records say the emperor refused to take it, for it fell
short of his demands. It is probable that this means not that it was
sent back but that the emperor refused to give a receipt in full of all
demands.
In this same year, 1383, the capital was again moved to Han-yang. The
reasons alleged were that so many misfortunes overtook the dynasty that
it seemed as if the site of the capital must be unpropitious. It was
also said that wild animals entered the city, which was a bad sign. The
water in the wells had boiled, fish fought with each other, and a number
of other fictions were invented, all of which made it necessary to move
the capital. It was effected, however, in the face of great opposition.
Meanwhile the Japanese were working their will in the south, for Gen. Yi
was in the north repelling an attack by the Yŭ-jin forces.
In spite of the sending of tribute to the Ming court, Koryŭ was on good
terms with the Mongols. In 1384 the Mongol chief Nap-t‘ap-chul came with
gifts to the king and frequent envoys were exchanged. Koryŭ was neither
hot nor cold but lukewarm and for this reason it was that the Mings
finally spewed her out of their mouth. The capricious king now moved
back to Song-do and the courtiers were put to no end of trouble and
expense. When they returned to Song-do with the king they burned all
their houses in Han-yang so as to make it impossible to return.
One of the most disgraceful acts of this king was his attempt to possess
himself of his father’s wife, or concubine. Meeting her one day he
commented on her beauty and said she was more beautiful than any of his
wives. He tried to force his way into her apartments at night but in
some way his plan was frustrated. When one of the courtiers took him to
task for his irregularities he tried to shoot him through with an arrow.
Gen. Yi T‘ă-jo was having a lively time in the north with the Yŭ-jin
people. Their general was Ho-bal-do. His helmet was four pounds in
weight. He wore a suit of red armor and he rode a black horse. Riding
forth from the ranks he shouted insulting words to Gen. Yi and dared him
to single combat. The latter accepted the gage and soon the two were at
work striking blows that no ordinary man could withstand. Neither could
gain the advantage until by a lucky chance the horse of Gen. Ho
stumbled, and before the rider could recover himself Gen. Yi had an
arrow in his neck. But the helmet saved him from a serious wound. Then
Gen. Yi shot his horse under him. At sight of this Gen. Ho’s soldiers
rushed up, as did also those of Gen. Yi, and the fight became general.
The result was an overwhelming victory for Koryŭ. These flattering
statements about the founder of the present dynasty are probably, in
many cases, the result of hero-worship but the reader has the privilege
of discounting them at discretion.
The Ming court knew all about Koryŭ’s coquetting with the Mongols and
sent a severe letter warning her that the consequences of this would be
disastrous. The king was frightened and sent an envoy in haste to the
Ming court to “make it right,” but the emperor cast him into prison and
sent demanding five years’ tribute at once. We may well believe that
this demand was not complied with.
That there were two opinions in Japan as regards Koryŭ is shown by the
fact that immediately after that government sent back 200 Koryŭ
citizens, who had been carried away captive, a sanguinary expedition
lauded on the coast of Kang-wŭn Province near the town of Kang-neung and
ravaged right away north as far as Nang-ch‘ŭn.
The king, in partial compliance with the emperor’s demands sent, in the
spring of 1385, 2000 horses to China. It was the faithful Chöng Mong-ju
who accompanied this peace offering, and when he arrived in Nanking the
emperor saw by the date of his commission that he had come in extreme
haste. This mollified his resentment to such an extent that he gave the
envoy a favorable hearing and that careful and judicious man made such
good use of the opportunity that friendly intercourse was again
established between China and her wayward vassal.
The state of affairs in Koryŭ was now beyond description. The _kwaga_, a
literary degree of some importance, was frequently conferred upon
infants still in their mothers’ arms. The people, with fine sarcasm,
called this the “Pink Baby-powder Degree.” The king was struggling to
pay up his arrears of tribute, but he could not secure the requisite
number of horses. In lieu of these he sent large quantities of silver
and cloth. The pendulum had now swung to the other extreme and a Mongol
envoy was denied audience with the king.
In 1386, the year following the above events, the Ming emperor formally
recognized the king of Koryŭ. This event was hailed with the greatest
delight by the court. But it did not have the effect of awakening the
king to the dignity of his position for he gave freer rein to his
passions than ever. He seized the daughter of one of his officials and
made her his concubine although she was already affianced to another.
This is a most grave offense in the east, for a girl affianced is
considered already the same as married.
It is a relief to turn from this picture and see what Gen. Yi was doing
to free his country from Japanese pirates. He was in the northeast when
a band of these men landed in his vicinity, near the mouth of the Tu-man
River. When they found that Gen. Yi was near by they wanted to make
their escape but he forced them into a position where they either had to
fight or surrender. He informed them that immediate surrender was the
only thing that could save them. They agreed to his terms but when they
had thus been thrown off their guard he fell upon them and the slaughter
was so great that it is said the plain was filled with the dead bodies.
The records make no attempt to conceal or palliate this act of bad faith
on the part of this great general. It was not an age when nice
distinctions were made. The Japanese were not waging a regular warfare
against the Koryŭ government but were killing helpless women and
children and burning their houses. Their one aim was plunder and this
put them outside the pale of whatever code of military honor prevailed.
The king’s vagaries now took a new turn. Like Haroun al Raschid he went
forth at night and roamed the streets in disguise accompanied by
concubines and eunuchs. Crimes that cannot be described and which would
have brought instant death upon a common citizen were committed with
impunity. No man’s honor was safe. Not only so, but other evil-minded
people masquerading at night and in disguise committed like
indescribable outrages under the cover of the king’s name. In his
hunting expeditions the king rode forth preceeded by a host of harlots
and concubines dressed in male attire and wherever he went the people
lost their horses and cattle and whatever else the royal escort took a
fancy to.
The continual trouble in Quelpart arising out of the horse-breeding
business grew so annoying that the king finally sent Gen. Yi Hăng with
instructions to bring away every horse and to do away entirely with the
business. This was done and from that day Quelpart had peace.
Kim Yu the envoy to Nanking was closely questioned by the emperor as to
the cause of the late king’s death and he told that potentate that it
was done by Yi In-im, which indeed was true; but to the question as to
whose son the king might be he returned an evasive answer. As a result
of his frankness in telling who murdered the former king he was
banished, for Yi In-im was all-powerful at court. The sentence of
banishment meant death for he was sent to a distant place of banishment
as such a break-neck pace that no man could live through it. He died of
fatigue on the way as was intended. This Yi In-im and his following held
the reins of power at the capital and they sold all offices and took
bribes from all criminals. They thus succeeded in defeating the ends of
justice and the people “gnashed their teeth” at him. He caused the death
of so many good men that he earned the popular soubriquet of “Old Cat.”
The year 1387 was signalized by a closer union between Koryŭ and her
suzerain. The Ming emperor sent 5000 pieces of silk to purchase horses
but when the animals arrived at his capital they were such a sorry lot
that he rejected them and charged the king with bad faith. The Koryŭ
officials all adopted the dress and the manners of the Ming court. This
they had done before but had dropped them again when they turned back to
the Mongols. From that time on until the present day the clothes of the
Korean have followed the fashions of the Ming dynasty.