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[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[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.