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The Tale of Choe Cheok 2
Finally, the sun rose. Choe left immediately for the coast, approached the Japanese vessel, and spoke in the Joseon tongue. “Last night, I heard the lines of a poem, and I could tell that the speaker was from Joseon. I, too, am from Joseon. It would bring me great pleasure to meet that speaker, since it is always heartening to meet someone from my own country while traveling abroad.” Inside the boat, Ok-yeong had heard the sound of her husband’s flute the night before. It was not merely a melody of Joseon; she knew that melody well. Could it have been her husband? Wanting to test her hypothesis, she recited a poem that she wrote in the past. And now, she could hear Choe’s voice from outside. She jumped off from the boat and hurriedly ran down to the shore, almost tripping a little over her steps. Choe and Ok-yeong met each other’s eyes and screamed in joy. They embraced each other enthusiastically, toppling over into the sand. They were still in shock, and not a single word had been said yet. When their tears ended, they began to shed blood tears, blurring their vision. The sailors from both countries had gathered around them by now, watching the reunion. At first, they assumed that Ok-yeong and Choe were simply relatives or friends. However, they discovered that the two were husband and wife much later. They were all surprised and amazed, exclaiming, “How extraordinary it is! The heavens and spirits must have played a role in their reunion, for such a thing has never happened before.” Choe asked about their parents, and Ok-yeong answered, “We were all together and fine until the Japanese drove us out of the mountain and out to the river. At sunset, I was forced onto a boat, and I lost them. After that, I couldn’t find a track of them any longer.” The two looked at each other and wailed. The pair’s grief was so strong that the throng watching them also began to tear up. Zhu You told Tonu that he wanted to bring Ok-yeong back with them and that he would pay six kilograms of white gold for her release. At the offer, Tonu looked offended, informing Zhu, “Ok-yeong has been with me for four years. I’ve treated her as a blood brother because I appreciate her virtue and sincerity. Although I ate and slept next her, I never realized she was, in fact, a woman! I, too, saw the couple’s reunion just now with my own eyes, and I’m sure that even the heavens and spirits are touched by their love. Even if I were foolish, I’m not made of stone. How could I take anything for her ransom?” And then, Tonu took out ten silver coins from his money pouch and presented them to Ok-yeong. He told her, “You’ve been with me for four years now, and it’s now time for us to part ways. I find myself sorrowed at this turn of events. You’ve overcome many challenges in your life, even jumping from the throes of death itself, and now, you’ve even been reunited with your husband! Your story is truly remarkable, and I’m certain that powers greater than us have participated in this remarkable story. If I were to be narrow-minded or selfish, the heavens would surely punish me. Farewell, Sau! Take care!” Ok-yeong held out both of her hands to receive the gift from him and bowed to him in thanks. “It’s only because of your protection that I have managed to survive and reunite with my husband again. I will be forever indebted to you for your kindness and care. And of course, you are giving me this generous gift—how can I ever repay you?” Choe also thanked Tonu again and again, and the couple finally returned to Choe’s boat, hands interlocked. Sailors from neighboring vessels lined up to see the couple, and the constant audience continued for days. Some of them offered gold, silver, or silk as presents, and Choe received all the visitors and gifts with appreciation. When they finished traveling and returned to Zhu’s house, Zhu prepared a room for the pair, and the couple lived comfortably. After finding Ok-yeong again, Choe lived happily. However, he was still living in a faraway, foreign land without any of his extended family. He couldn’t stop thinking about his old father, and Choe was also heartbroken over his young son. Yet all he could do was pray that one day, they would be able to return to their country alive. A year later, the couple had another son. The day before he was born, Jangryukbul reappeared in their dreams with a message, and when the baby was born, there was an identical birthmark on his back, like their first child’s. The couple believed that their first child Mong-seok had been reincarnated, and they gave this son the name Mong-seon. As Mong-seon grew up, they tried to find him a generous and wise wife. Their neighbor, the Chens, had a daughter, Hongtao. Her father, Chen Weiqing, joined General Liu’s army before she turned two, going off to fight in Joseon. He never returned. Even more tragically, when she was young, Hongtao lost her mother. She was raised by her aunt here, and Hongtao was always sad that she never saw the face of her father and that he had been lost to a war on a foreign land. One day, she hoped to visit the country of his death and perform the proper ritual to honor her father. She thought about this matter day and night, but knew that as a woman, her dreams were impossible. When she heard that Mong-seon was looking for a wife, she decided to bring up the matter with her aunt: “I would like to become a member of the Choe family. One day, I will travel to the land of Joseon.” Her aunt was well aware of her niece’s wishes, and she immediately went to Choe and told him Hongtao’s whole story. Choe and Ok-yeong were amazed and remarked, “It’s so rare to find a girl like her, and she means well, of course.” They finally took Hongtao into their family as their daughter-in-law. The next year in 1619, Nurhachi attacked Liaoyang by consecutively invading villages and killing many Ming soldiers. Consequently, the emperor of Ming was enraged and intent on subjugating the enemy by raising a militia from all over China. In this militia was a colonel named Wu Shiying from Suzhou, who was serving under Major General Qiao Yiqi. He had, at one point, known Choe; he had heard about Choe’s talent and bravery from Yu Youwen, and so Wu asked Choe to serve as his secretary. As Choe set off, Ok-yeong clasped his hands in hers, crying as she bid him farewell. “In my ill-fated life, I’ve already experienced much misfortune. However, with the help of the heavens, I have managed to survive, and now, we have reunited to live together again. Just as the broken string of a zither is reconnected or a mirror that has snapped in two is pieced together again, our broken ties have connected, and we’ve even been graced with a son to hold a memorial ceremony for us. We’ve shared over twenty years of happiness together, and I’m not afraid to die and relive the old days. I’ve always intended to part from this world before you did to reciprocate your kindness, but at this old age, we would unexpectedly be separated again. “Liaoyang is a thousand miles away from here, and I know it wouldn’t be easy for you to come home alive. Thus, how can we even promise to meet again in the future? I’d rather end my insignificant life now, here, when we must be separated. This way, you won’t be burdened by your attachment with me, and I won’t suffer in my attachment to you every hour of the day. “Farewell, my dear! This is the end for us!” With those last words, Ok-yeong pulled out a sword and placed the point of her blade against her neck. Choe took the sword away from her and tried to calm her down. “Such trifling, barbaric intruders will never be a match for Great China! Now that the emperor’s army is going into battle together, we will be able to crush them all with the full brunt of our force. Of course, our separation will be difficult, but do not worry so much about it. When I succeed and return victorious, we will be able to celebrate together with drinks. Moreover, Mong-seon has grown up properly into a young man—he is more than capable of supporting you. Please, let me know that you are ready and take good care of yourself—I must be able to leave without worries.” Finally, Choe was able to pack up and leave. After passing through a hundred miles of enemy territory, the Ming army arrived at Liaoyang and found themselves camped side by side with the Joseon army in Niumaoling. However, they suffered a huge defeat because the Ming commander-in-chief had greatly underestimated the army of Later Jin. Nurhachi had killed all Ming soldiers; on the other hand, not even one of the Joseon soldiers had been killed despite being threatened and coaxed to surrender. General Qiao was left with only about ten survivors in the Ming force. Together, they entered the Joseon camp, and the general implored the Joseon commander to give them Joseon uniforms. The Joseon commander-in-chief, Gang Hong-rip, wanted to let them have the uniforms and save their lives, but the fifth-ranked officer, Yi Min-hwan, was afraid of going against Nurhachi’s will and inviting trouble for them all. Therefore, Yi confiscated the uniforms and imprisoned the Ming survivors, sending them to the enemy’s camp. However, because Choe was originally from Joseon, he was able to sneak into the Joseon army in the middle of all the chaos and save his own life. Unfortunately, Gang later surrendered to the Later Jin Dynasty as well, and Choe became a prisoner of the Later Jin army, along with Joseon soldiers. As this was happening, Choe’s first child, Mong-seok, had been recruited as a lower-rank officer from Namwon, serving under Gang. Nurhachi kept the surrendered Joseon soldiers separate from the rest of the prisoners, but eventually, Choe and Mong-seok were confined together in the same space. Nevertheless, even as they stared directly at each other, father and son did not recognize each other. Mong-seok was suspicious of this other man because Choe did not sound like a native from Joseon, and Mong-seok believed that Choe was really a Ming soldier pretending to be a Joseon native to save himself. Mong-seok was suspicious of his father and asked him where he lived. Choe thought that Mong-seok might have been an enemy spy from Later Jin, so he lied, making up stories to his questions. Sometimes, Choe would claim that he was from Jeolla-do; other times, from Chungcheong-do.Having these responses, Mong-seok thought the man was strange, but still had no idea who Choe was. After several days together in confinement, the two slowly grew closer. They began to care for each other, understanding that both were in pitiful situations, and they were no longer suspicious of each other. Choe told Mong-seok the truth about his life. As Mong-seok heard the story, something inside of him shifted, his face turned pale, and he began to suspect the truth. Still in disbelief and confusion, Mong-seok asked Choe how old his deceased son was and if there was anything distinctive on his son’s body. Choe explained, “My son was born in October 1594, and he died in August 1597. He had a red birthmark on his back that was the size of a baby’s palm.” Mong-seok was surprised to hear this and couldn’t keep talking. He then stripped off his shirt and gestured to his back. “I am your son!” In a moment of clarity, Choe finally realized that the young man standing in front of him was his own son. The two men asked about each other’s parents. Then, for a long while, they just sat there and held each other through their tears. The two passed many days in this way, alternating between talking and crying. An elderly enemy soldier often patrolled past father and son. It seemed like the old soldier understood what Choe and his son were talking about and showed the faintest flashes of pity in his eyes. One day, while all of the other guards were out, the old man crept into Choe’s room. Speaking in the Joseon tongue, he remarked, “I’ve noticed that both of you have been crying a lot these last few days—you both seem different from how you were when you were first captured. What happened? I’d like to hear your story.” Neither the two Choes trusted the soldier, and none made a move to tell him the truth. Then, the old man added, “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m originally from Sakju,where my family suffered under the heavy taxes imposed by the village. Ten years ago, we escaped here to live in this barbarian’s land. But the people here are honest, and their taxes do not crush us. Since life is evanescent, like dew drops, why should we live and suffer under the oppression of government officials? “Nurhachi has assigned me eighty elite soldiers here to guard the Joseon soldiers. However, I’ve now heard your story, and it’s really extraordinary. Even though I will be reprimanded for letting you escape, I could not, in good conscience, continue to keep you here.” The next day, the old man gave them some rations, told his own son to share with them a shortcut back to their home, and let them escape. Choe Cheok finally returned to his motherland, alive and with his son. This was his first trip back home in twenty years. Choe’s desire to return home and see his own father was so strong that he managed to cover twice the ground that one typically could in a single day, rapidly traveling south. He traveled so quickly, without concern for his own health, that he eventually developed a big abscess on his back. In his haste, however, Choe did not seek medical treatment, pushing onwards. The symptoms only worsened as the pair traveled on. When they reached Eunjin and the inn, he was in critical condition. Mong-seok was extremely worried, anxiously running around, trying to find some way to help his father, but he had no way of obtaining acupuncture needles or medicine. Fortuitously, Choe and Mong-seok had met a Chinese man also escaping to Yeongnam. He was coming from Honam. When the man saw Choe, he exclaimed, in shock, “You’re lucky we met on this day! Even one day later and no kind of treatment would’ve saved you!” The Chinese man took out a needle from his pouch and broke the abscess. Choe went on to recover almost immediately. Two days later, Choe was walking into his hometown again with a cane. The whole family was surprised—they thought that the figure who walked into the village that day was a ghost. Choe and his own father were unable to believe that the other was not merely a fantasy. The two of them hung onto each other and cried until sunset. In the years after Lady Shim lost her daughter, she never fully recovered. Her grief had turned her absentminded, and she relied almost entirely on Mong-seok to take care of her. When Mong-seok had not returned from war and was presumed dead, she became bedridden, unwilling to move or rise from bed. When she saw Mong-seok walk back into town with his father and heard the news that Ok-yeong was also still alive, she let out a cry of sheer anguish and happiness—she herself didn’t seem to know if she was upset or happy. Mong-seok was greatly thankful to the Chinese man who had saved his father’s life back in their travels. Mong-seok invited the man to their house in his effort to find some way to repay him for saving his father. Choe asked, “You seem Chinese. May I know your name and hometown?” The Chinese man answered, “My family name is Chen and my given name is Weiqing. I live in Hangzhou, within Yongjin Gate. In 1597, I enlisted in Admiral Liu Ting’s camp and came to Suncheon. One day, while I was scouting the enemy’s location, I somehow managed to anger the general—I found myself being brought up on charges of martial law. I ran away under the cover of darkness, and have been a refugee ever since.” Choe was surprised to hear that and asked, “Do you have parents, a spouse, or children at home?” Chen replied, “I did leave a wife behind, as well as my daughter—she was only two months old when I escaped to Joseon.” Choe asked again, “May I ask—what is your daughter’s name?” Chen said, “On the day my daughter was born, a neighbor brought over peaches as a gift. Thus, I named her Hongtao.” Choe threw up his hands in shock. “These are truly unbelievable circumstances! They truly are! I lived next door to your family in Hangzhou. When your wife passed away in September 1611, Hongtao moved to the house of her uncle, Wu Fenglin, which is where she grew up. Later, she married my son and is now my daughter-in-law. And look here, today! I have met her father!” Chen was very surprised at this revelation. At first, he was silent, and then, he fell into a state of melancholy. After a while, he spoke, his voice heavy with thought. “In Daegu, I was staying with a kind soul named Pak, and I met an old woman there. She taught me the art of acupuncture, and I’ve been making my living from it for some time now. Hearing your story, I feel like I’m home and with family here. If you permit it, I’d like to rent a room and stay here, with you.” Mong-seok stood and said, “You saved my father’s life! Moreover, your daughter lives with my mother and brother. You are family—what more is there to be said?” With that, Mong-seok immediately led Chen to an empty room in Choe’s house and let him stay there. Mong-seok still worried day and night. Now that he knew, with certainty, that his mother was alive, he was determined to bring her back home. However, there was no safe way for him to find her, much less bring her back, and he could do nothing but shed tears. In Hangzhou, Ok-yeong had heard the news that Ming’s frontline troops had been annihilated. She was certain that Choe died on the battlefield, and she was inconsolable, crying day and night. She prepared to die, fasting and not having even a single drop of water. One night, Jangryukbul appeared in another dream, stroking her head, and said, “Do not die! There is much happiness in your future.” She woke up from her dreams and told Mong-seon, “When I tried to drown myself the day I was taken by the Japanese soldiers, Jangryukbul of Namwon Manboksa Temple showed up in my dreams and instructed, ‘Do not die! There is much happiness in your future.’ Four years later, I met your father again on the shores of Annam. “Now, as I try to kill myself, I’ve had those dreams again. Could your father possibly still be alive? If he’s alive, I have nothing to wish or regret in my life anymore.” Mong-seon said, crying, “I’ve heard that Nurhachi killed all of the Chinese soldiers but let the Joseon soldiers live. Since Father is originally from Joseon, there’s still a chance he could be alive, right? How could the dreams of Jangryukbul give us false signs? Please, Mother, continue to stay strong. Father will return.” Ok-yeong changed her mind and said, “It’s really only a four- or five-day walk from Nurhachi’s camp to the Joseon border. Even if your father had survived, he would’ve run away toward Joseon. It’s a thousand dangerous and difficult miles back to us. “I must return to my homeland to look for him. If he has passed away, I have a duty to personally go to Changju. At the very least, I must comfort your father’s spirit and bury him properly in the family’s graveyard. Moreover, just as southern birds build a nest in the south and horses from the north still cry towards their northern homes, my desire to return to my home has only increased as the years have gone by and as I take steps and steps closer to death. In this life, I have lost my father-in-law, mother, and little son to these wars; I do not even know if they are dead or alive. “Some time ago, I heard from a Japanese merchant that the captured Joseon prisoners have slowly been released to return to their homes. If this is true, isn’t there even the smallest chance that my lost family is in Joseon? “If your father and grandfather have all died in a faraway land, who will take care of your ancestors’ graves? And of course, not all of our relatives have been lost to the war. If we could even meet one of them, wouldn’t that be a fortunate thing? “Go, borrow a boat and prepare food for our journey. Joseon is only one or two thousand miles away from here across the water. If we have favorable winds and the heavens wills it, we could arrive on those shores in ten days on a ship! I’m determined now!” Mong-seon was crying and appealed to her, “Mother, what could you possibly mean by all that? Yes, I want nothing more than to arrive in Joseon, but how could we possibly cross a million miles in a mere sailboat? We would cross winds, waves, sharks, and crocodiles! Pirate ships or patrols would stop us before we even began. What good would we be to my dead father and our relatives if we become fodder for sea creatures? Even though I’m foolish, I have to object to your grand plan.” Hongtao, who was standing beside her husband, interjected, “Don’t oppose your mother’s will! Her plans are driven by genuine intent and desire, and this isn’t a time to discuss possible difficulties. Even if we lived in a perfectly safe place, would there be any guarantee to avoid flood, fire, or thieves?” Ok-yeong spoke up again. “Yes, there would be a lot of trouble in a water route, but I’ve had many experiences. When I lived in Japan, I called a ship my home. We would do business in Fujian and Guangdong Province in spring and then in Ryukyu Kingdom in autumn. I’m used to predicting the tides during the day and reading the stars at night; I’ve found my way through rough winds pushed through storming waves. I’m more than capable of dealing with the rough ocean waters, and also have strength to overcome all kinds of peril. If we experience unforeseen difficulties, we will certainly be able to find our way through it.” Ok-yeong immediately began making clothes in the fashion of two countries, Joseon and Japan, and she taught Mong-seon and Hongtao the languages of both countries every day. And then, she instructed Mong-seon. “Sailing is all about relying on the mast and oars; therefore, you must make sure that both are in good condition as you prepare to sail. Another crucial tool is your compass. Soon, I’ll select a good day for us to set sail, and you’ll need to remember all of these things.” Mong-seon silently withdrew from the conversation with an anxious face and told Hongtao, blaming it on her, “In this plan of hers, she is planning on dying ten thousand times over. Even if Mother managed to survive this journey, this wouldn’t bring my dead father back to life! Danger is a part of every part of this plan—how could you possibly agree to support her? How could you be so mindless?” Hongtao answered, “Mother has become consumed by her mission in this plan—neither you nor I could stop her now. It’s better to help her now than to regret not doing so later. “As for how I feel, what more could I tell you about my personal feelings? My father died on the battlefield when I was only two months old. His ashes are probably scattered helplessly in a foreign land, and his spirit entangled itself with the wild weeds of the land. What kind of daughter and human would I be if I gave up a chance to come even one day closer to him? “Lately, people have been saying a number of Chinese refugees survived the war and are staying in Joseon. As his daughter, I hope that my father is one of them. If I can arrive in Joseon with your help and comfort his spirit even a little, a spirit that is condemned to wander the battlefield, I wouldn’t regret anything, even if they were my last acts on earth.” With this impassioned proclamation, Hongtao burst into tears. Mong-seon finally realized the futility of his actions; he couldn’t oppose both his mother and wife. Resigned, he readied himself for the trip, organizing their packs. The ship left China on February 1, 1620. Ok-yeong instructed Mong-seon, “Joseon is located southeast of where we are now; therefore, we should wait for a northwest wind to take us. Sit over there with the oars, and wait for my instructions.” She hung a feather on top of the mast and placed the compass on the bow of the ship. That done, she began inspecting every inch of the ship expertly, ensuring that nothing was missing. Quite soon, the feather perched on the mast was steadily pointing toward the southeast. Blowfish were jumping up and down, dancing around in the sea. All three of them gathered their strength and pulled hard on the mast. The ship lurched out of port into the sea, flying as straight and true as an arrow. The three of them passed through Dengzhou and Laizhou in a flash both by day and night, propelled as if lightning inspired the waves and thunder awakened the seas, pushing the traveling band forward. In almost no time, they managed to pass Qingzhou and Qizhou as well. As they looked out over the horizon, they noticed small islands bobbing distantly in the sea. In the next glance, however, those same dots would be gone, already far, far behind them. One day, they ran into a patrolling Ming force. A soldier on the craft called out, “State your identity and your business!” In Chinese, Ok-yeong replied back, “We’re from Hangzhou and on our way to Shandong to sell tea.”The patrol just turned around.The next day, a Japanese ship came up to them and stopped them. Ok-yeong immediately changed into Japanese clothes. A Japanese crewman asked, “Where are you coming from?” Ready for them, Ok-yeong answered in Japanese, “We were here fishing, but unfortunately got swept away by the wind. We’ve been blown adrift and lost our ship. We managed to borrow a ship from Hangzhou, and are on our way back.” The crewman remarked, “I can see that you’ve led hard lives and suffered. As a note of caution, the return route differs a little from the one you’re headed now—you’ll want to veer south.” That night, the waves seemed to collide with the sky above. The winds were gusting hard from the south, and it was impossible to see out for more than an inch; they were completely surrounded with clouds and fog. Soon, the mast broke and the sail ripped, and they were completely lost. Mong-seon and Hongtao were terrified and seasick, quietly lying facedown on their bellies. Ok-yeong quietly sat by herself, praying to both the heavens and to Buddha. Over the course of the evening, the winds and waves eventually quieted, and the three managed to bring the ship ashore to a small island and repaired the storm damage. They spent several days on the island. One day, however, they saw a distant ship on the horizon grow larger and larger. Ok-yeong told Mong-seon to hide the supplies and equipment from their ship inside a rock cave. Soon, the people on the ship came ashore, shouting boisterously. Their language and attire were neither of Joseon nor of Japan; if they had to be placed, they seemed Chinese. Though the only weapon they held was a white stick, they used it to beat Ok-yeong and the others, demanding everything that they had. In Chinese, Ok-yeong pleaded, “I’m Chinese! I was fishing when I was carried over to this island; I honestly have nothing more than what you see here right now!” She begged them to let her family go, crying as she pleaded. In the end, the men didn’t kill anyone. However, the group did take the ship, securing it to the back of their own as they left. Ok-yeong said, “They must be pirates. I’ve heard that they often appear on this route, between China and Joseon. They’re known for their looting, but not for murder; those must’ve been pirates. “This is truly all my fault; I forced you to come on this journey with me, and I didn’t listen to a word of your concerns—this, now, must be the heaven’s punishment. What are we going to do now? We’ve lost the boat! Since we cannot fly over the sea in the sky, set float in a raft, or ride on bamboo leaves, all we have now is death. I’m not worried about myself—I’ve lived long enough—but I cannot stand the thought of you dying, too, because of me!” Ok-yeong held her son and daughter-in-law tightly. Her cries shook the rock cliffs of the island; her regrets were folded into the layers of crashing waves. The god of the seas seemed resigned, shrugging his giant body; the mountain goblins frowned and moaned. In her grief, Ok-yeong decided to scale up the cliff and fling her body down into the sea. Mong-seon and Hongtao restrained her, holding her back, so she couldn’t jump off. Frustrated and desperate, Ok-yeong asked her son, “What good could keeping me from my death possibly serve now, when I truly want to die? We only have enough provisions left for three days for all three of us. What kind of way would it be to die, to simply sit here and wait for ourselves to starve?” Mong-seon shot back, “If we die after all the food is gone, then we’ll die. In the meantime, we need to focus on finding a way to live—but if you’re already dead, it would be too late to regret to have found a way to live.” Together, the couple helped her down from the precipice, and they spent the night in the rock cave. At dawn, Ok-yeong told her son and daughter-in-law, “At the height of my exhaustion and delirium last night, Jangryukbul showed up again and reminded me of what he said before. It’s truly an unusual thing.” The three of them sat next to each other and prayed to Buddha together. “Buddha, Buddha! Please look after us, please look after us!” Two days later, a sailboat suddenly appeared from the distance in the sea. Mong-seon was startled by the sighting and told Ok-yeong the news at once. He said, “I’ve never seen that kind of ship before—what kind of trouble will we have to endure this time?” Ok-yeong, on the other hand, saw the sailboat and was pleased, exclaiming, “We’re saved! That’s a ship from Joseon.” Accordingly, she changed into the Joseon attire and instructed Mong-seon to go up to the cliff and wave clothes in the air to catch the ship’s attention. The sailors came ashore. As they lowered their sails, they asked, “Who are you people, living on such an isolated island?” Ok-yeong answered in the Joseon language. “We’re originally a family of scholars from Seoul. We were on our way to Naju, but got caught in a storm. Our ship overturned, and we’re the only three survivors. All the others have died, and we drifted here. We were on the verge of death the entire time, and survived only by clinging onto a mast.” The sailors took in their pitiful expressions and decided to help them. They set the anchor down and allowed Ok- yeong, Mong-seon, and Hongtao to come aboard. As they came aboard, the sailors explained, “We are naval forces. We cannot alter our route and destination on our own; we must finish our mission as we have been instructed, so we cannot return you directly to your village.” Finally, in April 20, 1620, the boat docked in Suncheon, and the three were let off. Ok-yeong led her son and daughter-in-law again. For six solid days, they climbed mountains and crossed rivers. Eventually, they made their way back to Namwon. Of course, Ok-yeong still thought that her entire family was dead; all she wanted to do was see where they used to live. First, she brought Mong-seon and Hongtao to Manboksa Temple. Then, they went to Geumseok Bridge, where they surveyed the castle and the village—everything looked just as it had before. At this point, Ok-yeong turned back to Mong-seok, pointing at a house. Through her tears, she told him, “That’s the house where your father and I used to live. I wonder who lives there now. Let’s stop there now and ask to stay for the evening. From there, we can begin planning for the future.” The band of three travelers arrived outside the gate of the house. From outside of the gate, Ok-yeong thought she saw Choe under the willow tree with a guest. She approached closer and took another look. Wasn’t that her husband? At the same time, she and her son burst into tears. By this point, Choe had finally realized that it was his wife and son at the gate, and he cried out loudly, announcing, “Mong-seok’s mother has come! Could this possibly be real, or am I just dreaming? Is it merely a ghost standing in front of me, or could it truly be a human?” From inside the house, Mong-seok heard this news and sprinted out barefoot, tripping over himself with each step. Mother and son reunited, just as one would expect, and such a scene requires no more explanation. Together, the pair entered the room. Lady Shim was still in her sickbed, and was shocked and surprised that her daughter had come back from the dead. Lady Shim’s face flushed pale at the shock, looking like that of a dead person. Ok-yeong immediately rushed to her mother’s side and held her. Slowly, Lady Shim breathed again. Soon, her condition improved. Choe called out to Chen Weiqing and announced, “Your daughter has come as well!” For Hongtao, Choe let her tell the tale of her trials that had finally led her back to her long-lost father. The entire family was crying in happiness, arms wrapped around one another, and their cries echoed across the village. At first, the neighbors were not pleased at the commotion and odd sounds, because as all the family members cried out, holding their son and daughter, the sound of it spread outward from their house. However, once the miraculous story of Ok-yeong and Hongtao had been told to villagers, they were all slapping their knees in respect and amusement. The entire village was caught up in the contagious happiness, and the stories spread all around. Later, Ok-yeong told her husband, “All of this is, indeed, by the grace of Jangryukbul. I have heard that the golden statue of Jangryukbul was damaged along with the temple; right now, people have no place to pray. The spirits of the heavens have saved us, and I feel we must find a way to repay that debt in our lives.” Accordingly, they prepared a large and abundant offering to the Buddha and cleansed themselves thoroughly. Then they traveled to the temple and prayed to the Buddha. And for the rest of time, Choe and Ok-yeong supported their parents, led their sons and daughters-in-law well, and lived happily ever after at their old house outside the West Gate.
by Jo Wihan
The Tale of Choe Cheok 1
Choe Cheok, who went by the name Baekseung in his youth, was born in Namwon. He lost his mother early in life and lived only with his father, Suk, outside of the West Gate on the east side of Manboksa Temple. Even from a young age, he was known for aiming high, being friendly, and taking promises seriously; he was also unconcerned with trifling manners.
One day, his father lectured him.
“You don’t study at all, and you spend your time acting like a hooligan! What are you going to grow up and become? And now that our country is at war, every village is recruiting warriors, but all you do all day is hunt and worry your old father. This is pitiful!
“If you really put your mind to it and begin seriously reading and studying for the state examinations, you’d be able to avoid the battlefields, even if you didn’t pass the examinations. Here, I have an old friend from my youth, Saengwon Jeong.1 He lives south of the castle, and I know he studies diligently and writes well. He is a suitable teacher for those who have just started their studies; go to him and learn.”
From that day on, Choe Cheok lived beside his books and went to Saengwon Jeong and requested lessons. He studied hard, without pausing for breaks. After several months, his skills had improved dramatically. He wrote with the intensity of a burst riverbank, and soon, all of the villagers admired his intelligence.
When he would study at Saengwon Jeong’s house, there was a girl about seventeen or eighteen years old, with eyes as pretty as a painting’s and pitch-black hair. She would hide beside the window and listen quietly to Choe’s voice.
One day, when Saengwon Jeong was still in the middle of eating breakfast, Choe found himself alone, reading a book. Then suddenly, a note fell down through the crack in the window, and he picked up the note. On it was a poem about a young, unmarried maiden searching for her other half. They were from the last chapter of “Biao You Mei” in the Book of Songs.2
He felt as if his heart and soul were fluttering in the air. He couldn’t calm down. He drifted into a daydream, imagining himself sneaking into her room late at night and imitating the old Chinese love story “A Story of Bu Feiyan.” Almost instantly, however, he realized what he was thinking and repented, warning himself with the story of Kim Tae-hyeon3 from the Goryeo Dynasty. And while Choe was quietly contemplating, morality and desire were quarreling in his heart.
Saengwon Jeong suddenly entered into the room, and Choe hid the poem in his sleeve.
After his lesson, he left the room. A female servant followed him out, stopping at the gate. She told him, “I have a message for you.”
His heart was already alert because of the lines of the poem, and the servant’s words only intrigued him more. He told her he understood and asked her to follow him. Choe brought her to his house and asked her to explain the entire situation.
The servant began, “I am Chun-saeng, a servant of Lady Yi’s. She asked me to bring her back a reply to her poem, sir.”
Choe was puzzled and asked, “Aren’t you a servant from Saengwon Jeong’s house? Why is she called Lady Yi, instead of Lady Jeong?”
Chun-saeng explained, “My master’s house was originally in Cheongpa-ri, outside Sungnye Gate in Seoul. Sadly, my master, Mr. Yi Gyeong-shin, passed away some years ago, and then it was just Madam Shim4 and her daughter living together. Their daughter’s name is Ok- yeong, and it was she who threw that note earlier today. Last year, Madam Shim and her daughter moved from Ganghwa Island to Hoejin, in Naju, in a boat to avoid the war, and this autumn, they moved again from Hoejin to here. Saengwon Jeong, the master of this house, is a relative of Madam Shim’s, and he has taken us in and treated us well. They are seeking a husband for Lady Yi, but it has been difficult to find her a suitable bridegroom.” Choe said, “Your lady grew up with a widowed mother. How is she literate? Has she simply known how to read since she was young?”
“My lady had a brother, Deuk-yeong, and he was intelligent. He passed away before he was to be married at age nineteen. She picked up a little writing from him, so she’s able to write her name and not much more.”
Choe offered Chun-saeng food and drink while taking out a fresh sheet of paper and composing the following letter:
The letter I received from you this morning truly captured my heart. I can hardly contain my happiness; it is as if I have met a bird delivering good news from a land of fairies. Just as a bird that lost its partner weeps over its own appearance in a mirror, or as a husband who dearly misses his widowed wife looks at her portrait painting, I, too, have been longing and desperate to meet my other half.
As Sima Xiangru did in the State of Han a long, long time ago, playing the zither to seduce Zhuo Wenjun, and as Jia Wu in the State of Qin did, secretly giving away her father’s precious incense, bestowed to him by the king, to her lover Han Shou, I understand that a man and woman may personally meet and connect. However, meeting you seems as difficult as going over the many peaks of Mt. Bongnaesan, which is home to the hermits, and crossing over their rough streams. But just now, as I was thinking of even the possibility that I may meet you, my face paled, and my neck grew thin in determination.
And now, just as King Huai of Chu met a goddess in his daydream, a letter of yours was delivered to me by a fairy. If parties from both families are able to establish an agreeable relationship, the two of us could become intertwined by Wolha Noin’s thread,5 fulfill our three wishes6 and keep our wedding vows
I cannot possibly express in words all that I feel about you, and even if I found every word, how could I use those to tell you how much I truly feel?
by Jo Wihan
The Story of Jeon Unchi 3
INTRODUCTION “The Story of Jeon Unchi” is a classic of Korean fiction that incorporates the fantastic into the realistic. Unlike many of the moralistic works that came before it, “Jeon Unchi” is an adventure tale replete with action. Although no one knows who wrote the story, it has the characteristics of popular fiction written for commoners in the Korean vernacular script (hangul) that was produced in the late eighteenth and throughout the nineteenth centuries. Inspired by a historical figure with the slightly different name of Jeon Uchi (late fifteenth to early sixteenth century) who was reputed to be a master of the mystical arts, “The Story of Jeon Unchi” is the tale of a rebellious magician and has been adapted to the screen as both a Korean drama and a film. Originally published circa 1847, although even that fact isn’t certain, this is the first time this work has been translated into English. — At this time, a royal censor came to the king and spoke to him. “An informant told me that four or five people were planning a revolt in Hoseo province. So I have come to report that I have put the informant under custody.” The king replied, “It is due to my lack of virtue that there are such criminals in the kingdom. How sad this is.” He ordered the State Tribunal and the Police Bureau to arrest and bring the traitors. When they were arrayed before the king, he interrogated them personally. One of them spoke out. “We planned to make Jeon Unchi the king and so bring peace to the common people, but it has all come out. We deserve to be executed ten thousand times and more.” At this time, Unchi was working as the recorder of criminal investigations. He was standing at the king’s side, writing down the words of the interrogation when his name unexpectedly came up in the testimony of the criminal. The king became enraged. “I suspected that Jeon Unchi might plan treason one day, and now his name has appeared in this confession.” The king quickly ordered Unchi to be restrained and torture instruments to be brought. “I once pardoned you of your crimes and even granted you an official position. Yet, instead of serving me with loyalty, you committed an act that is deserving of the punishment of a traitor. I will hear no excuses but order you to die.” The king then commanded his servants, “Kill him with one blow.” One was about to hit him with all his strength, when his arm became beset with such pain that he could not proceed. Unchi spoke out, “I deserve to be executed ten thousand times over for my past crimes, but I am innocent of the charge of treason that is being laid upon me now.” He thought to himself, “This is surely the work of someone trying to frame me.” “Since I am about to die, it saddens me that I won’t be able to pass down a particular talent of mine. I beg Your Majesty to grant me the favor of displaying that talent.” The king thought to himself, “This wretch is quite skilled, so I should see this.” “What talent are you talking about?” Unchi replied, “I am so good at painting that when I depict a tree, it actually grows, when I depict an animal, it walks about, and when I depict a mountain, trees and other plants appear on it. They call such a thing a radiant picture. If I do not leave behind such a painting before I die, I fear that I will turn into a discontented ghost.” The king thought to himself, “If this wretch returns as a ghost, that might cause some problems.” So he ordered his restraints to be removed, and a brush, ink, and paper to be brought. Unchi drew mountains and rivers in layers upon layers of summits and valleys as well as a waterfall of ten thousand gil falling from a great height. Willow branches were arrayed on the bank of a stream where a donkey with a saddle was standing. Unchi threw away the brush and bowed four times to the king. “Why are you bowing to me when you’ve been condemned to death?” “I bid Your Majesty farewell as I mean to go into a mountain.” He then entered into the picture, got on the donkey, and headed for a mountain. He soon disappeared from sight. The king spoke out in anger, “I have been tricked by this wretch again! What must be done!” He ordered that the picture be burnt. He then interrogated the prisoners once more before they were beheaded. Unable to allay his anger over being tricked by Unchi again, he sent out notices to all eight provinces, announcing that whoever captures Unchi will be awarded a hundred gold pieces along with other prizes and an official position in the government. — After Unchi used his magic to escape execution, he returned home and told his mother everything that had happened. She was shocked by what she heard. “From now on, hide yourself and do not go to court ever again. Since you tricked the king, you won’t obtain a pardon. How could you face your ancestors in the afterlife?” She reprimanded him severely, so Unchi spent his days quietly in the mountain, concentrating on his studies. One day, he was riding on a donkey and enjoying the scenery when he saw a young monk who was taking a pretty girl into the mountain. Unchi went on to drink some liquor at a country tavern, but on his way back, he saw the girl climb a tree and try to commit suicide by hanging herself. He quickly untied the noose and massaged her hands and feet to bring her back to consciousness. When she woke up, Unchi asked if she tried to kill herself. “That monk you saw me with was a good friend of my husband when he was alive. Although I became a widow at a young age, I maintained my virtue. Today is the day of my husband’s passing, so the monk came and said that we should perform a memorial ritual at the temple. I agreed to go with him without suspecting anything. But that bastard brought me to this place and raped me, violating my chastity. I saw no use in living on, so I tried to kill myself.” Unchi consoled her and sent her to his house. He then went up the mountain until he came to a large temple, where he saw the wretched monk. Unchi cast a spell and let out a strong breath, which transformed the monk so that he looked like Unchi. An investigator from the Police Bureau, who happened to be staying at the temple to scout the area, saw the monk and thought he was Unchi and reported the sighting to the local magistrate. The magistrate was pleased to hear this and sent soldiers to the temple, where they arrested the monk and transported him to Gyeongseong. The king was preparing to interrogate him personally when officials of the Royal Secretariat reported to him, “Jeon Unchi has been arrested in every province and many towns, so there are three hundred sixty of them. This is surely the work of his magic.” The king became enraged but did not know how to handle the matter until Chief Royal Secretary Wang Yeonhui spoke. “It’s hard to fathom Jeon Unchi’s magic. Since this is liable to create much chaos, I think it would be best to behead them all rather than try to figure out which one is the real Jeon Unchi.” The king agreed and proceeded to a watchtower from where he ordered the beheading of all the Jeon Unchis. But then one of them spoke out. “I am not Jeon Unchi but the Chief Royal Secretary Wang Yeonhui.” The king looked at him closely and saw that it was indeed Wang. When he asked his officials what was going on, they answered, “But he is Jeon Unchi.” The king lamented at that. “The fortunes of this country have fallen so low that it is rife with such demonic tricks. How am I to preserve this country? I can’t allow so many innocent officials and commoners to die just so I can have one criminal executed.” And so he ended the interrogation. At this time, Unchi changed his appearance to that of Wang Yeonhui inside a cloud, and then walked out of the palace gates. Servants hurried over with horses and escorted him to Wang’s house. As Unchi went into the main chamber and conversed with Wang’s wife, none in the household suspected anything. The real Wang Yeonhui came out of the palace but could not find any of his servants. He thought it strange and borrowed a horse from a colleague and rode to his house. There he became very angry at his servants at the front door and demanded to know why they were home. They answered him, “But we escorted Your Lordship here a while ago. How come Your Lordship is here again?” And they looked at him strangely. As he proceeded to the main chamber, servant girls clapped their hands in astonishment. “What is going on? How is His Lordship outside now? How is this happening?” And so they talked in confusion. Wang Yeonhui, unaware of anything, went into his sleeping chamber and found another Wang Yeonhui speaking with his wife. He yelled in rage, “What kind of a wretch are you that you dare come into the house of a noble official and converse with his wife?” He then commanded his servants, “Get that bastard now!” Unchi spoke, “What kind of a wretch are you that you dare to wear my face, come into my chamber, and try to violate my wife? What calamity is this!” He commanded the servants, “Get that bastard now!” The servants looked back and forth but could not fathom the trick that was being performed before them. As they did not know what to do, Unchi spoke out, “I’ve heard that demons cannot hold the appearance of a human for long.” Unchi threw water and red paint at Wang Yeonhui, which turned into a nine-tailed fox. The servants came with swords and clubs to kill the animal, but Unchi stopped them. “This is such a strange event that it should be reported to the government and be handled officially. Until then, bind that creature tightly, put it in a chamber, and guard the place well.” The servants obeyed and restrained Wang Yeonhui before shutting him in. When Wang Yeonhui tried to speak, fox noises came out of his mouth. He could only weep at the condition of having his human mind trapped inside an animal’s body. Unchi thought to himself, “He won’t be able to live many days in such a state.” That night, at the fourth watch, he went to Wang Yeonhui. “We had no cause to be enemies, but when I saw that you tried to earn merit by having me killed, I had no choice but to kill you first. But I would like to go through my life without taking any life, so I’m going to forgive you. So don’t you dare try anything like that ever again.” Unchi then cast a spell that returned Wang Yeonhui to his true form. When Wang realized only then that everything was the work of Unchi’s magic, he spoke out in fear, “I did not know the extent of Master Jeon’s power, so I committed a great wrong.” Wang Yeonhui then expressed his gratitude many times over, after which Unchi spoke to him again. “After I release you and leave this place, your household is going to fall into chaos, so do what you need to do.” He then left for the southwest. Wang Yeonhui called out to his servants, “Come and look at the demon again.” The servants went into the room and found the creature gone. When they exclaimed in astonishment, Wang Yeonhui spoke out in anger, “All this happened because you failed to guard the house properly.” He reprimanded them for a long time before dismissing them. When Unchi went back to the mountain temple, he found that the monk had returned as well, but still with Unchi’s appearance. He threw water on the monk and cast a spell that returned him to his true form. Unchi reprimanded him severely, “As a monk, you should have abided by the ways of Buddhism. Instead, you lured away a virtuous woman and violated her. You deserve to be killed ten thousand times over, so I planned on having you executed as Jeon Unchi, but I just couldn’t bring myself to take a life, so I saved you and turned you back into your true form. From now on, do not act like that again.” — Unchi was returning home when he came across a group of young men who were fighting over a scroll and marveling at it. “The picture in this scroll is the greatest masterpiece.” Unchi looked at it and saw that it depicted a beautiful woman. It showed her holding a child while teasing it, her mouth and eyes drawn so well that she seemed to be alive and moving. Unchi thought of a trick and spoke with a smile, “Why are you praising this picture like it’s such a great work?” A young man named O replied. “You may think that you have high taste, but you shouldn’t speak of things you are ignorant of. See how the woman in the picture seems to be speaking and watching, so how could it not be a masterpiece?” Unchi laughed at that and asked for the price of the painting. O answered. “It is worth fifty nyang. That’s actually cheap for such a quality work.” “I have scroll picture of my own, so come look at it.” He took a scroll out of his sleeve and unfurled it, revealing another picture of a beautiful woman. She was of great fairness, dressed in a blue jacket and red skirt. She also wore a golden coronet on her head. Her beauty was truly incomparable in the whole world. All the youths looked and praised it. “She also looks alive, so this picture rivals ours.” Unchi laughed. “Your picture is fine, but mine has more liveliness. Witness its true quality.” Unchi hung up the scroll and quietly called to it. “Heavenly maiden Ju, where are you?” The woman in the picture replied as she stepped out of the picture with a little boy. Unchi spoke to her, “Pour all these gentlemen some liquor.” The heavenly maiden replied and poured drinks for everyone. Unchi drank his first and watched as all the young men received their liquor, all of them delighting in its taste. After everyone had their fill, the heavenly maiden cleared everything away before stepping back into the picture. The men exclaimed in wonder, “I don’t know if this picture is from the Heavenly Realm or something from a dream, but it is truly the most precious object of all time.” O spoke out, “Let me try it out. Allow me to ask Ju the heavenly maiden to bring us more liquor.” With Unchi’s assent, O quietly called out to Ju, “We want more liquor, so please give us some.” Ju the heavenly maiden replied and stepped out of the picture bearing a liquor bottle, while the little boy brought a table. She bent down and poured liquor as before. O drank his first and waited until everyone else had taken theirs before he got up and expressed his gratitude to Unchi. “I feel fortunate to have met you, to drink such fine liquor, and to witness such a marvel on this day.” “This picture may possess liveliness but it is a useless thing. So there is no need for you to be so grateful.” “If you think the picture is so useless, why don’t you sell it to me?” “If you really want it, I will.” When O asked for its price, Unchi replied, “Ju the heavenly maiden’s bottle is a true marvel that never runs out of liquor. So I will take a thousand nyang for it.” “Let us not haggle over the price now. How about we go to my house and discuss it there?” Unchi agreed and went to his house, where he gave O the scroll. “I will return tomorrow, so have the money ready by then.” After Unchi left, O hung up the scroll at the outer chamber of his house and stared drunkenly at Ju the heavenly maiden holding a liquor bottle. He was so taken with her beauty that he took her fair hand and put it on his lap. Overcome with love, he then tried to drag her over to his mattress. Suddenly the chamber door burst open and O’s wife, Lady Min, ran into the room. She was a woman given to jealousy and envy, and often got herself involved in other people’s business. She became so enraged by the sight of her husband showing affection to Ju that she tried to beat her rival. But Ju went back into the painting, which made Min take the scroll down and rip it to pieces, leaving O in shock. “I promised to pay a thousand nyang for that scroll. What have you done?” “When the owner comes, I’m going to tell him off and curse him.” So the two of them argued. When Unchi returned, O welcomed him and explained the situation. Unchi decided to play a trick on Lady Min and threw a net made of metal strings over her, which turned her into a giant snake. She found that when she tried to speak, no sound came out of her mouth, and when she tried to get up, she could not do so no matter how much she moved around. Unchi spoke to O, “I left the scroll here as a favor to you, yet the marvel has been destroyed. So meeting you was a misfortune for me. A great calamity will fall upon your house, so take care of yourself.” “What calamity?” “A demonic beast that has been waiting in this house for a thousand years will use your wife to create much chaos.” “How will the demon do that?” “Because your wife ripped up my scroll, she turned into that demon. Go open the door and see.” O was skeptical of Unchi’s words, but he opened the door and saw a snake the length of six arms on the ground with his wife nowhere in sight. O’s face turned pale with terror. “I see a giant snake. I must kill it.” Unchi stopped him. “This demon is a thousand-year-old spirit. If you kill it, a great harm will come to you. I will attach a talismanic paper to its back, which will make it disappear overnight.” He took out a talismanic paper and put it on the snake’s back. He warned O, “Close the door and do not open it until I return.” He then went home and waited until the new day dawned before he returned to O’s house. There, he went up to Lady Min and reprimanded her. “You thought so low of your husband that you have acted in a violent and unrighteous manner. Out of jealousy, you ripped up my scroll and insulted me. So I was going to wrap you up in this metal net and put you in a hole in a rock to make you suffer. But if you promise to mend your ways, I will set you free.” Lady Min nodded her head, so Unchi cast a spell that released Lady Min from the net. She hurriedly got up and bowed down to him in gratitude. — On his way back home, Unchi stopped by the house of Yang Bongan, with whom he used to study. He found him lying down with an illness. When Unchi queried him in concern, Yang answered him, “I have pains in my stomach and chest. And I can’t partake in anything to eat or drink, so I don’t think I’ll be able to get up again.” Unchi checked his pulse and spoke, “Yours is not an illness that originated in the body but one that was caused by thoughts of another person. Who has made you so ill?” “That’s true. There is a woman named Lady Jeong who lives in Hoehyeon District, inside the south gate of the capital city. A person of incomparable beauty, she lost her husband early. She lives next to my uncle’s house, so during a visit I happened to see her over the wall and fell so deeply in love that it has made me ill. And now I fear that I do not have long to live in this world.” “You should send a matchmaker who talks well to propose marriage.” “She has such a strict sense of virtue that she will not only reject the proposal but curse me for it.” “In that case, I will try to bring her to you.” “No matter how clever you are, she won’t agree to come, so don’t bother putting your effort into it.” “Don’t worry.” Unchi then left and flew away on a cloud. After Lady Jeong had lost her husband, she lived alone and spent day and night weeping over her loss, wishing she could die. She had an elderly mother but no siblings. The mother and daughter spent their days taking care of each other. One day, Lady Jeong felt troubled for some reason and walked around in her chamber. Suddenly a cloud descended, and an official of the Heavenly Realm stepped forth, dressed in a red robe with a jade belt, wearing a gold crown, and bearing a jade tablet of officialdom. He spoke to her in a clear and calm voice. “Lady Jeong, come out and hear the command of the Great Jade Emperor of the Heavenly Realm.” When Jeong told her mother of what she had heard, the elderly woman became astonished and quickly lit incense on a table. Lady Jeong came out to the garden and prostrated herself on the ground. Unchi spoke, “Heavenly maiden Mun, how did you like living in the world of humans? It is time for you to return to the Heavenly Realm and attend the once-in-three-thousand-years party at the holy lake of Yoji.” Lady Jeong was astounded by the command of the Great Jade Emperor. “But I am only a human being with a base body who is guilty of many failings. So how could I possibly ascend to the Heavenly Realm?” “Heavenly maiden Mun has partaken of so much impure water of the human world that she has lost all memory of the Heavenly Realm.” He then poured fragrant holy water into a gourd bottle and offered it to Jeong. When she drank it, she became so disoriented that she did not know what was happening. Unchi wrapped her inside his cloud and bore her into the air, leaving her mother to bow numerous times toward the sky. At this time, a supernatural spirit called Heaven Sent Young Master was causing mischief by gathering beggars of all kinds to bother people in the marketplace for food and money. He suddenly became aware of a powerful fragrance and looked up to see a cloud traveling southeast. Heaven Sent Young Master lifted his hand and made a gesture, which created an open doorway on the cloud. A heavenly official and a beautiful woman fell out and dropped to the ground. It was Unchi and Lady Jeong. Unchi looked around in astonishment but could find nothing amiss. He was about to cast a spell when a beggar child suddenly appeared and reprimanded him loudly. “Mortal man Jeon Unchi, listen to me. You learned magic only to make use of the Heavenly Realm for your tricks and to deprive women of their virtue. Did you think that heaven would overlook that? I’ve been ordered to end the likes of you, so don’t blame me for your demise.” Unchi unsheathed his sword in anger and tried to threaten the spirit with it, but the weapon turned into a white tiger and attacked Unchi. He tried to escape, but his feet became attached to the ground, making it impossible for him to move. He then attempted to transform himself, but his magic spells no longer worked. He looked up in shock and realized that while the beggar child had a shabby appearance, his magical power was superior. Unchi got down on his knees and begged, “I may have eyes, but my vision is not clear, so I did not recognize you. I have committed crimes for which I deserve to be killed ten thousand times over. But I have an elderly mother whom I could not take care of properly because of my family’s poverty, so I felt that I had no choice but to trick the king. Also, what I am doing now is not for the purpose of depriving this woman of her virtue but to save the life of a man who has fallen ill. I bid you, master, to pardon my crimes and to teach me the Ways of Heaven.” Heaven Sent Young Master replied, “I knew all that before you told me. Due to the unfortunate state of this country, the likes of you felt free to create disturbances with magic, so I was going to execute you. But given the situation with your elderly mother, I will let you live for now. Now, return Lady Jeong to her home, and think of some other clever way of saving the life of Yang Bongan. In fact, there is someone who can take the place of Lady Jeong, a woman who lost both her parents early and had to live in dire poverty with no one to depend on. Her name is also Jeong and she is twenty-four years old. If you dare to disobey me, you will come to great harm.” Unchi bowed down to him. “May I know your lofty name?” “I am called Heaven Sent Young Master. I’ve been wandering around to have some fun in the world of humans.” And he returned Unchi’s magical powers. Unchi immediately took Lady Jeong and returned to her house, where he called out to her mother, “When I went up to the palace of the Great Jade Emperor, he proclaimed, ‘The offenses committed by the heavenly maiden Mun have not been fully atoned for, so return her to the world of humans so that she may suffer some more.’ I am bringing her back to you, so bid her to live virtuously.” He then put some fragrant medicine in Lady Jeong’s mouth, which allowed her to eventually regain consciousness. Unchi went back to Heaven Sent Young Master and asked where the woman he spoke of lived. The spirit gave him some magical medicine of transformation and directions to her house. Unchi bowed to him and went to the place, where he found a thatched hut on the verge of collapse. Inside, there was a woman sitting alone, drowning in depression. Unchi approached her and spoke in a consoling tone, “I know that you are in a difficult situation. You are still unmarried at the age of twenty-four, and so you live a lonely life. I have taken pity on you and will act as your matchmaker.” She bowed down her head in embarrassment, but Unchi fed her the medicine, threw water on her, and cast a spell that changed her face to that of Lady Jeong. Unchi then told her the story of how Yang had fallen ill because of his love for Jeong and gave her instructions on what to do. He then wrapped her in cloth and transported her in a cloud to Yang’s house. He put her in the outer chamber and went into the inner chamber to speak to Yang. “Lady Jeong’s sense of virtue is indeed so strong that I could not exchange a single word with her.” Yang lamented pitifully, “Even with all your skills, you could not persuade her, so how could I expect her to change her mind in the future?” Unchi tried to console him. “I could not bring Lady Jeong, but I did bring a woman who is ten times more beautiful than her.” “I have seen a lot of beautiful women, but there is none like Lady Jeong. Don’t joke about something you know nothing of.” “How could I joke around with an ill person? I put her in the outer chamber. Her beauty is truly incomparable. Go and you will see.” Yang was hopeful and skeptical in equal measure, but he was finally persuaded to go to the outer chamber, where he saw a woman in a white dress. The clarity of her face was that of a full moon on an autumn sky, and the brightness of her eyes was that of the morning star. Her beauty was indeed incomparable. As he continued to look at her, he saw that her appearance was that of Lady Jeong, who had been on his mind day and night. He felt so intoxicated with delight and affection that his illness faded away. — One day, Unchi left home to pay his respects to a senior personage, taking with him a bolt of silk to present as a gift. At this time, the famed scholar Seo Hwadam1 summoned a servant boy and spoke to him, “Today, at the Hour of the Horse, a man with the family name of Jeon will come. So clean up this cottage thoroughly.” Unchi came upon the entrance to a mountain path, which he walked through to climb up to a beauteous land, where he wandered leisurely to enjoy its scenery. The place was full of pine and bamboo trees, along with a calmly flowing river where deer looked for mushrooms and cranes danced about in joy. It was such a fair place that it appeared to be in a supernatural realm. Unchi noticed a door made of twigs among bamboo trees and knocked on it. A little boy came out. “Are you Master Jeon?” “How do you know who I am?” “My master told me this morning.” Unchi was greatly pleased, so he gave the boy the bolt of silk to present as a gift and asked to see his master. Hwadam invited him to his cottage, where they greeted each other politely before settling down to talk. Unchi spoke. “You lofty name is so renowned that I decided to see you even if I had to travel a thousand ri. So I bid you to allow me to learn from you.” “So Master Jeon wants to follow my learning. But what profound knowledge do you think I possess that you should praise me so profusely? I have heard that your magical powers are so great that there is nothing that is unknown to you. So I hoped to meet you one day as well. Now that you are here, I feel most fortunate.” Unchi expressed his gratitude for his words, and they spent the entire day conversing leisurely. Hwadam summoned a maid and had her bring some liquor and food. He then grabbed a sword and stabbed it into a wall, which made holy liquor that supernatural spirits drank pour out, filling a bowl in an instant. On the north wall was a beautifully painted image of a magnificent tower. Hwadam reached into the picture and opened a silk-covered window through which they could see a maiden in a colorful dress approach with a table bearing liquor cups. She stepped out of the picture and sat by Unchi to present liquor to him. Unchi drank it and found it wonderfully fragrant. “I have come to a place of supernatural beauty where I got to drink the liquor of holy spirits and partake in a sumptuous meal, so my gratitude toward you knows no bounds.” Hwadam laughed at that. “How excessively you praise such modest liquor and food.” They had been exchanging liquor for a while when suddenly a modestly dressed gentleman came in. “Who is your guest?” he asked Hwadam. “This is Master Jeon from the southwest.” He then addressed Unchi. “This is my younger brother Yongdam. He has never seen you before, and he has forgotten how to act politely before a guest, so please forgive him.” Unchi looked at Yongdam and saw that he possessed clear eyes and outstanding eyebrows. He was of such grand appearance that his aura of dignity was liable to startle people. Yongdam addressed Unchi in a polite manner. “For a long time I have heard of your great magical powers, so I have been wanting to meet you for a while. Could I possibly ask you to demonstrate your prowess?” “How could a lowly person like myself pretend to know such things?” But Yongdam made the request two or three more times until Unchi finally relented. He cast a spell, which turned Yongdam’s hat into a bull’s head with horns that stretched the length of six arms. It fell to the floor, twitched its eyes, and opened its mouth. Yongdam became upset and cast a spell of his own, which turned Unchi’s hat into a pig’s head. It fell to the ground as well, where it displayed its teeth and shook its ears. Unchi thought to himself, “This man seems to possess some skills, so I’ll take him on.” He cast a spell on the pig’s head, transforming it into a long, three-pronged spear. Yongdam also cast a spell, turning the bull’s head into a great sword. The long spear and the great sword clashed in the air, their blades shimmering as they reflected the light of the sun. Yongdam then threw his fan into the mix and cast another spell, turning the sword and the fan into a red dragon and a blue dragon. Unchi threw in his own fan and cast a spell, turning the spear and the fan into a white dragon and a black dragon. As the four dragons fought, the place became filled with clouds and fog while thunder and lightning struck. Yet no clear winner emerged. When Hwadam saw the blue dragon and the red dragon losing strength, he thought to himself, “If the two of them keep competing like this, it will come to no good end.” He threw down a water plate, which turned everything back to their original shape. Unchi put his hat back on, retrieved his fan, and spoke in a reconciliatory manner, which made Yongdam leave his hat and fan on the floor, all in good humor. Unchi then bowed down to Hwadam. “I insulted you by daring to display my talent before your superior skills, which is a grievous thing. I will return later to apologize properly.” Hwadam saw Unchi off before he reprimanded Yongdam. “You used a blue dragon and a red dragon, while Unchi used a white dragon and a black dragon. Blue represents wood and red represents fire, while white represents gold and black represents water. Among the five basic elements, gold wins over wood and water wins over fire. So how did you expect to win against Unchi? And why did you get into such a silly contest with a guest in the first place?” Yongdam pretended to apologize, but he bore a great resentment against Unchi, to the extent of wanting to do him harm. Three days later, Unchi visited Hwadam again. Hwadam spoke to him, “I have a favor to ask you, and I hope you will agree to it.” “What is it?” “There is a great mountain in the south sea called Hwa. There is wise man there who is known as Master Unsu. I studied under him when I was young, and he has sent me many letters since then, but I have been unable to reply to him. Could you possibly go there for me?” When Unchi readily agreed, Hwadam spoke to him, “Now that I think of it, Hwa Mountain is in the middle of the ocean, so it won’t be easy for you to get there.” “I may be modest in my talents, but I can go and return in no time.” When Hwadam expressed skepticism at that, Unchi began to think that he underestimated his powers. “If I do not return in good time, I will never leave this mountain again, even if I end up dying here.” “In that case, I wish you a good journey, but I still worry that you might make a mistake along the way.” When Hwadam gave him a letter to deliver, Unchi transformed himself into a hawk and flew toward the center of the ocean. Suddenly a great net appeared out of nowhere and blocked his path. When Unchi tried to fly over it, it grew to block him further. No matter how high he flew, its size matched him to the extent of touching the sky. And its bottom knots were tied to ropes that were submerged in the water. When Unchi tried to fly around it, it spread wide as well, preventing him from reaching Hwa Mountain. After ten days of trying to break through, he had no choice but to return to Hwadam and relate the strange event in the middle of the ocean. Hwadam spoke to him, “You boasted so much before but you failed in your mission, so why don’t you try leaving the mountains now?” Unchi, in great trepidation, tried to run, but Hwadam, predicting his action, transformed himself into a wildcat and attacked him. Unchi hurriedly turned himself into a hawk to escape, but then Hwadam became a blue lion and took Unchi in his mouth before knocking him to the ground. Hwadam reprimanded him, “You used such measly magic to trick the king and cause mischief without thought. For your lack of manners, you deserve to die.” Unchi replied in a plaintive tone, “I was ignorant of how great your powers were, so I did act in defiance of your high dignity. I do deserve to die for that, but I have an elderly mother to take care of, so I ask that you spare my life.” “If I let you live just this once, you must promise never to act in an unrighteous manner again. Take care of your mother, but once she passes away, what do you say we go up to the holy mountain of Yeongju together and study the ways of heavenly spirits?” “I will do as you say.” He bowed down to him before returning home. After that, he stopped using his magical powers and spent his time taking good care of his mother. After time passed like the flowing of water, Unchi’s mother passed away. He performed all the proper rituals as he buried her in a grave on a mountain. He then went through the three-year mourning period. One day, Hwadam came to visit and Unchi hurried over to meet him. After they exchanged greetings, they went into his house and sat down. Hwadam spoke to him, “We have made a promise before, so I came despite knowing that you are still in mourning. I have come to take you away, so prepare your travel gear.” Unchi, with great happiness, distributed his wealth to his servants. “This is my final farewell, so I bid you all to live well and perform proper rituals for my ancestors.” After Unchi bowed down before the graves of his ancestors, he and Hwadam got on a cloud and flew in the direction of Yeongju Mountain. No one knows what happened to them after that. The Big Book of Classic Fantasy (Vintage Books, 2019) Ed. Ann and Jeff VanderMeer Trans. Minsoo Kang Copyright © 2019 Vintage Translation copyright © 2019 Minsoo Kang Reprinted with permission from Vintage. [1] Seo Hwadam: Hwadam was the literary name of the historical figure Seo Gyeongdeok (1489–1546), a revered Confucian philosopher who was famed for his brilliance, erudition, and commitment to scholarship.
by Anonymous
The Story of Jeon Unchi 2
INTRODUCTION
“The Story of Jeon Unchi” is a classic of Korean fiction that incorporates the fantastic into the realistic. Unlike many of the moralistic works that came before it, “Jeon Unchi” is an adventure tale replete with action. Although no one knows who wrote the story, it has the characteristics of popular fiction written for commoners in the Korean vernacular script (hangul) that was produced in the late eighteenth and throughout the nineteenth centuries. Inspired by a historical figure with the slightly different name of Jeon Uchi (late fifteenth to early sixteenth century) who was reputed to be a master of the mystical arts, “The Story of Jeon Unchi” is the tale of a rebellious magician and has been adapted to the screen as both a Korean drama and a film. Originally published circa 1847, although even that fact isn’t certain, this is the first time this work has been translated into English.
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Unchi took his mother into a mountain, where he spent his days riding on a cloud and wandering around as it pleased him. One day, he came to a place where a white-haired old man was weeping sadly. Unchi asked him why he was so sad. “I am seventy years old and I have a son, but I am lamenting because he has been falsely accused of murder.” Unchi asked for details of the situation. “In our village, there is a man named Wang whose wife is very beautiful. My son came to share his affection with her, so he went in and out of their house. But the wife, being a licentious woman, also shared affection with a man named Jo. One day, Wang caught his wife with Jo and the two of them ended up fighting. My son happened to come by and separated the two before sending Jo away, but Wang ended up dying of his wounds. Wang’s cousin reported the death to the government office, turning it into a murder case. Jo is a houseguest of the magistrate Yang Mungi, so he was able to escape prosecution, so it was my son who ended up becoming written up as a murderous criminal. That’s why I am so sad.” “If that is the truth, I will make sure that your son is safe.” After Unchi left the old man, he shook his body and turned himself into pure wind before flying to the house of Yang Mungi. There, he found Yang in the main chamber, looking at himself in a mirror. Unchi gave himself the appearance of Wang and stood next to Yang, who, surprised by the uncanny appearance, put down the mirror and looked around. But he saw no one else in the chamber. “A ghost is playing a trick on me in broad daylight.” When he looked into the mirror again, he again saw the reflection of someone next to him who addressed him. “I am Wang who was killed by Jo. An official mistakenly arrested Yi for the murder while letting Jo go. If you do not avenge my death, I will not leave you alone.” And he disappeared. Yang Mungi, taking great fright, quickly made preparation for an interrogation and put Jo under arrest. When he questioned him, Jo pleaded innocence, but then Wang appeared out of nowhere and yelled at him. “Jo, you evil bastard! Why did you have relations with my wife and then murder me? You are the unforgiveable culprit, yet you dare to put the guilt on Yi!” And he disappeared. Jo became so frightened that he did not know what to do. Yang Mungi put Jo under torture and interrogated him further until the prisoner could not bear the pain anymore and confessed to everything. And so Yi was released and Jo was punished. After Unchi saved Yi, he flew around on a cloud again, until he came across two men fighting over a pig’s head in the middle of a market street. Unchi came down and asked why they were struggling so. One of them answered. “I bought this pig’s head at a fair price, but this official is using his position to steal it from me. That’s why we are fighting.” Unchi cast a spell, making the pig’s head open its mouth and bite the official, who took fright and ran away. And Unchi took to the sky once more and flew around until he heard the sounds of singing and musical instruments playing. He descended to the place and politely greeted the people he found there. “I am a passing traveler who would like to join in your merriment.” A group of young scholars returned the greeting and exchanged names with him. They were in the company of ten or so courtesans, who played instruments and sang. As Unchi conversed with the scholars, he found two named So and Seol to be arrogant. When food and liquor were served, Unchi addressed them. “I am so grateful to be tasting such precious food thanks to all of you.” Seol replied, “We may not be wealthy, but we can afford to keep the company of famous courtesans and eat fine food. Perhaps this is the first time you have experienced such things.” Unchi laughed. “That may be true, but there are things missing here.” “What might that be?” “I see no refreshing watermelon, no tangy peach, and no sweet grapes, so why pretend that this is such a sumptuous feast?” The scholars laughed. “How could you be so ignorant? This is late spring. Such fruits are not available now.” “I saw a place where all kinds of fruits were ripe.” Seol addressed him. “In that case, why don’t you go and get some of them?” Unchi took a servant and went up a hill where there were peaches hanging on trees. He had the servant pick some, and also grapes that were growing below them. They then went down to a field where there were plenty of watermelons growing on vines. They took about twenty of them and brought them to the scholars, who were astonished. After Unchi got drunk, he decided to play a trick on So and Seol, so he cast a spell on them. The two of them spoke. “My body feels so heavy, and my mind is in agony with dizziness. How strange this is.” Unchi addressed them. “You are arrogant and lack manners. And I don’t think you are fit to be with these courtesans.” The two of them became angry. “We are not eunuchs, so why do you say that we are not fit to be with them?” Unchi laughed. “Calm yourself and put your hands in your trousers.” Seol felt inside and addressed So. “My testicles have disappeared and everything is smooth down there. How could this be?” So asked to see, so Seol showed him, and indeed there was nothing there. So reached into his own trousers and also found nothing there as well. They exclaimed in shock, “Jeon ridiculed us and now this has happened. What do we do now?” At this point, one of the courtesans discovered that the small opening below her belly had disappeared, while a new opening appeared above her belly. She knew not what to do. Among the scholars, one named Eun was the brightest and the most learned, and he realized what was happening. He begged Unchi. “In our blindness, we committed an offense against you. Please forgive us.” “Don’t worry. Everything will return to normal.” The scholars and courtesan touched themselves again and were relieved to find that everything had returned to before. They expressed their gratitude. “We did not realize that a heavenly personage had descended among us, and we nearly paid for our ignorance by turning into freaks.” Unchi flew on a cloud to the south until he came across a group of people who were talking anxiously among themselves. “Jang the warehouse keeper is a good and filial man, so it would be a tragedy if he died unjustly.” When Unchi came down and asked for the story, one of them informed him, “There is a man named Jang Gyechang who works as a warehouse keeper at the Ministry of Taxation. He is a decent man who is good to his parents, and he also likes to help the unfortunate. But he made a mistake while writing an official report, so he ended up being blamed for the shortage of two thousand coins at the warehouse, which he did not take. We are sorry that he will be punished for it.” Unchi felt pity, so he rode his cloud and flew to the place where official punishments were administered. There, he saw a young man being brought forth in a wagon with his young wife following while weeping. When Unchi asked around, he was told that the man was indeed Jang Gyechang. A prison guard took the prisoner down from the wagon and announced that it was time for his punishment. Unchi turned himself into wind and gathered Jang Gyechang and his wife to carry them into the sky. The official in charge of the punishment was astonished by the occurrence, so he reported it to the king, who also took fright, as did all his officials who thought it all very strange. Unchi brought the Jang couple home, where he fed them medicine, which awakened them from an unconscious state. As they had no idea what was going on, Unchi explained everything that had happened, also informing his mother. Unchi took to the sky once more and flew about until he came across another person who was weeping. When Unchi asked what was the matter, the man answered him, “My name is Han Jaegyeong. My father just passed away, and I have a seventy-year-old mother, but I have no money to pay for the funeral or to take care of my mother. That is why I am crying.” Unchi took pity on him, so he reached into his sleeve and took out a scroll. “Take this scroll, hang it up at your house, and address it by the name of Gojik. If someone answers, ask for a hundred nyang1 and it will be given to you. Use the money to start a business, and then ask for just one nyang per day, and use that to take care of your mother. But if you ask for more than that, a calamity will fall upon you, so beware.” Jaegyeong felt both hopeful and skeptical of Unchi, so he asked for his name and where he lived before he went home. When he unrolled the scroll, he found no writing on it but a drawing of a big house with a locked gate and a young boy standing before it. Just to see what would happen, the man called out, “Gojik.” The young boy answered and stepped out of the picture. When the astonished Jaegyeong asked for a hundred nyang, the boy took out the money and placed it in front of him. He subsequently started a business with it, and he called out “Gojik” every day to ask for one more nyang. One day, Jaegyeong had the need for more money, so he thought to himself, “What harm would it be if I asked to borrow a hundred nyang?” So he summoned Gojik and spoke to him. “I need a hundred nyang, so lend it to me.” When Gojik refused, Jaegyeong tried numerous times to persuade him. The boy went back into the picture without replying and unlocked the gate to the house before going inside. Jaegyeong became angry, so he went into the picture himself, kicked open the gate, and followed him in. At this time, the minister of taxation was getting ready to begin his work for the day, when an official came to him. “There’s noise of someone inside the warehouse, which is very strange.” The minister thought it odd as well, so he summoned his lower officials and sent them to the warehouse. They opened the door and found a man holding coins, which surprised them. “How did you get in here, you thief?” The officials then put him under arrest and reported the incident to the minister, who had the prisoner brought before him. When Jaegyeong was forced to prostrate himself below a stone staircase, only then did he realize that he was no longer at his house but at a government building. Jaegyeong spoke out in astonishment. “How did I come to this place? Is this a dream or reality?” The minister addressed him. “For the crime of sneaking into the warehouse to steal money, you deserve to die. If you seek mercy, reveal the identities of your fellow outlaws.” Jaegyeong told the minister everything he knew, revealing his encounter with Jeon Unchi. The minister questioned him, “When did you see Jeon Unchi?” “It’s been four or five months, near where I live in the southwest.” After the minister put Jaegyeong in prison, he went to the warehouse, where he found the place empty of money but chock-full of frogs. Another warehouse was found to be full of yellow snakes but no coins. The enraged minister reported this to the king, who gathered his officials to discuss the matter. At this time, officials in charge of other warehouses came and reported, “All the rice in the warehouse turned into insects.” Officials from military bases reported, “All the weapons have disappeared, replaced by stacks of tree branches.” Palace maidens reported, “All the hairpieces of palace maidens turned into golden crows and flew away, and a tiger appeared in the inner palace and killed a few servants.” The frightened king selected expert archers and dispatched them to the inner palace, where they found all the palace maidens there riding tigers. They couldn’t bring themselves to kill them, so they returned to the king, who became enraged and ordered them to put them all down. The archers were about to shoot them when a black cloud suddenly appeared, enwrapped the tiger-riding maidens, and took them up to the sky. The king spoke. “This is all the work of Jeon Unchi, so there will be no peace in the country until he is caught.” The minister of taxation addressed him, “The criminal who has been imprisoned is in league with Jeon Unchi, so I bid you to put him to death.” The king was about to order Jaegyeong’s execution, when a great wind suddenly blew and the prisoner disappeared without a trace, which was also Unchi’s doing.
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Unchi was wandering around when he happened to see one of the notices put up on the four gates of the capital calling for his surrender. He scoffed at it at first, but he ended up going to the entrance to the royal palace. “Your lowly subject Jeon Unchi has come to confess his guilt.” When the Office of the Royal Secretariat reported this to the king, he thought to himself, “This wretch possesses such powerful magic, he is liable to cause much mischief everywhere he goes. It would be a good idea to appease him by giving him an official position in the government. If he persists in making trouble after that, then I’ll have him executed.” So he summoned Unchi to court. Unchi prostrated himself before the monarch, who spoke to him, “Do you know your crime?” At those words, Unchi flattened himself even more to the ground. “I have committed acts for which I deserve to be executed a hundred times, so I can make no excuse for myself.” “In consideration of your talents, I have decided to pardon you and grant you an official position. So you must fulfill your duties with utmost loyalty.” He made Unchi a royal messenger, putting him in charge of the office that took care of the horses and carriages used by the king’s envoys. Unchi expressed much gratitude before leaving his presence. After Unchi began working there, he noticed that the other royal messengers acted harshly toward their subordinates, often hitting them with clubs. One day, Unchi casually picked up a stone pillar and smashed it into their clubs, hitting their hands as well. That caused them such pain that they stopped abusing their subordinates. A few months later, the other royal messengers sent their servants to Unchi with a demand that he show them respect by serving them a meal. Unchi replied, “Tell them to come out to the nearby beach tomorrow at dawn.” The next day, all the royal messengers rode their horses and went to the beach, where they found tents of blue canopies with colorful sitting mats arranged decorously inside. Sonorous music was playing, and a plentiful feast was laid out. It was all a magnificent scene. After everyone sat down to be served food and liquor, Unchi spoke. “All of you are here to enjoy yourself, but it would be no fun without women to keep us company. I know some women I used to be close to. Should I bring them here?” Many who were already getting happily drunk spoke out. “Who would have known that such a junior official would demonstrate such enthusiasm? Do as you will.” So Unchi took a servant and headed for the south gate of the capital. Many talked about him. “That junior official is so talented, I bet he could handle the most fearsome criminal.” And so they praised him. Unchi returned not long after, accompanied by many women whom he directed to stand outside the tents. He then had more food on large tables to be brought for the pleasure of the royal messengers. Unchi spoke to them. “As per your wish, I brought all these women here. How about I have them sit by all of you so that you can enjoy yourself with them?” When many assented happily, Unchi brought one woman and had her sit in front of the highest-ranking official. “Stay here and serve him well.” He then led the rest of the women and had them sit by the other officials, who only realized then that they were their wives. They were afraid to reveal what they had expected, so they kept quiet and kept their discontent to themselves. After they were done with the meal, they quickly left on their horses, which mystified their servants. When the royal messengers returned home, all of them found their households in disarray, as they were beset by family members, some who came to deliver terrible news, some who were on their way to the pharmacy to obtain medicine, some who were bringing a doctor who practiced acupuncture, and some who were lamenting a death. When the officials questioned them, they found out that all their wives had died. When a royal messenger named Kim came home, a servant girl informed him, “Your wife was fixing some clothes when she suddenly left this world.” Official Kim spoke out in rage, “That Jeon brought her to the party on the beach and reduced her to a courtesan. How could the wife of a nobleman bear such an insult? I am sure to lose my position now, and my family will be dishonored as well. How can I bear the sorrow of this calamity?” A servant girl came in a hurry. “Your wife has woken up.” The official’s rage died down as he ran to the woman’s chamber, where his wife sat up and spoke to him. “A while ago, I fell asleep and saw a man in a red robe who took me away. Then a servant in yellow clothing covered me with a veil, put me on a horse, and led me to some place. There, I saw many women who were respectable wives like myself. Then that wretch Jeon the royal messenger grabbed me by the back of my head and pushed me in front of you and said ‘serve him well.’ He then had the other women sit next to officials. When all the royal messengers finished their meal, they all saw how angry you were as you got up and left on your horse. So they also left without looking back and scattered, all in rage. I and all the other women had no idea what was happening, so we were on the verge of panic. Then I woke up and realized that it was all a dream. Everyone in the household seemed to be lamenting because they thought I was dead. What is happening?” When Official Kim heard this, he did not know what to say. All the other royal messengers were filled with indignation. “That wicked criminal Jeon Unchi wormed his way into the royal palace, and now he dares to humiliate us all. We should allay our anger by killing that bastard!” After Unchi tricked the royal messengers, he thought to himself, “The king did pardon me of my crime and gave me an official position, so I should be grateful for his great favor. I should turn over a new leaf and serve him with utmost loyalty.” And so he concentrated on fulfilling his duties well, taking good care of the horses under his charge until they gained weight and became healthy. The court became pleased with his work.
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At Gadal Mountain, there was a man by the name of Yeom Jun who was extremely courageous and greatly skilled in martial arts. He gathered thousands of bandits and set up a lair in the mountain, from where they went forth to pillage villages and assault towns to steal weapons and provisions, murdering people in the process. As a result, every town in the area became frightened. When the provincial governor sent a report of these events to the king, he became concerned enough that he summoned his officials to discuss the matter. “These bandits are so strong and flourishing, so who can destroy them?” No one replied at first, but then one official stepped forward. “My gratitude for the favors Your Majesty has granted me knows no bounds. I may not be a person of much talent, but I would like to allay Your Majesty’s concern by cutting off the head of Yeom Jun.” When the king looked up, he saw that it was none other than Jeon Unchi. He was greatly pleased. He questioned the other officials. “What do you think?” They all thought it was the right course, so the king spoke to Unchi, “How many soldiers do you need?” “They say that the bandits are very powerful, so I think it would be best if I went by myself and spied on them first. Soldiers could be deployed later.” The king assented and granted him a sword with permission to proceed according to his will. Unchi expressed his gratitude and left the court. The next day, Unchi rode a cloud and went southwest to visit his mother. When he told her that he received the command of the king and was on his way to assess the strength of the bandits, she cautioned him, “It would be dangerous to go there not knowing the strengths and weaknesses of your enemy. Be very careful as you fulfill the king’s mission.” Unchi returned to Gyeongseong, where he took ten or so police officers and set off at dawn. When they arrived at a provincial office, Unchi ordered the men to stay there for the time being. He then took up his sword and, with one shake of his body, turned himself into an eagle. He flew to Gadal Mountain, where he saw Yeom Jun riding a white horse beneath a large parasol. He was accompanied by many beautiful maidens in colorful dresses and about a hundred servants. Yeom gave out an order. “Today is the day that chieftains from all eight provinces return. Tomorrow, slaughter ten large cows and prepare a feast.” Unchi considered Yeom Jun and saw that he was a man of grand appearance with a reddish complexion, eyes that were like large water drops, and a beard that looked like needles tied together. Unchi came up with a stratagem and gathered leaves, which he transformed into so many spirit soldiers. He armed them with spears and swords and organized them in a well-defended camp with flying flags. He then put on a helmet with two phoenixes engraved on it and a red military coat, mounted a black-and-white horse, and proceeded to the enemies’ position. He burst through the entrance to their lair, where he found a firmly locked gate. Unchi cast a spell, which forced the gate to open up by itself, and rode through to find a bustling place full of brightly colored houses. After he looked around a bit, he turned himself into an eagle again and flew to an enclosed garden, where he found Yeom Jun sitting on a golden chair with his chieftains all around him and a hundred or so beautiful maidens standing behind them, serving them liquor. Unchi cast another spell, which brought countless eagles that covered the sky. They came down, picked up the tables in front of the chieftains, and bore them into the air. Then a great wind blew sand and pebbles all around, knocking down all the terrified people who could not even open their eyes. Canopies and floor mats flew into the sky as well. Yeom Jun became so disoriented that all he could do was climb up an incline and hold on to a tree stump while his soldiers tumbled through the air holding pieces of meat and cake, some of them vomiting in fright. Everything was in chaos from the Hour of the Snake2 to the Hour of the Horse, until Yeom Jun regained enough composure to look around and see that snow was falling in great profusion. Before he knew it, the snow had accumulated to a full gil.3 As none could move or see, they were on the verge of panic, but then the wind suddenly ceased, and all the snow disappeared without a trace.
Yeom Jun went to the main hall of his headquarters and rang a large bell, summoning all his soldiers. They all spoke of the strange occurrences and argued over their meaning, until a soldier came and reported, “A general leading an army has broken through the east gate and is coming inside.” Yeom Jun, in shock, ordered his men to go and ascertain the situation before he picked up a spear and went forth on a horse. When Unchi saw him, he shouted at him, “What a lowly wretch you are, using your strength and ruthlessness to pillage villages and murder people. I mean to capture every single one of you ratlike bastards, so if you fear for your life, surrender at once and accept the will of heaven.” At that, Yeom Jun replied in rage, “I am following the will of heaven and the desire of the common people in seeking to topple the unrighteous king and save the multitudes who have fallen into misery. So how dare you get in my way!” And he charged forward. The two of them fought on horseback, exchanging blows of sword and spear in tens of rounds. Yeom Jun’s mighty spear blocked the light of the sun, while Unchi’s swift sword emitted light that produced a rainbow in the air. It was like a pair of tigers fighting over food in a mountain, or a pair of dragons over a pearl in the ocean. Both warriors became increasingly alert, so neither could overcome the other. Finally, it became so dark that gongs sounded from both camps, and the two of them fell back with their respective armies. When Yeom Jun returned to his camp, his chieftains praised him. “Despite the surprise of the calamity that fell on us, you fought well against that tigerlike warrior. Heaven must be on your side. But the enemy also seems to be a man of great courage, so we bid you to take care.” Yeom Jun laughed. “He may be courageous, but I have no fear of him. I will surely capture him tomorrow and march on the capital.” The next day, he opened the camp’s gate and went forth to shout out, “Come out quickly and face me and my blade. I swear that a victor will emerge on this day.” As he then dashed about, Unchi came riding out in fury, twirling his sword in a dance as he headed straight for Yeom Jun. Sword and spear clashed thirty or so times, Yeom Jun’s skill with the spear proving flawless. Unchi thought to himself, “I can’t beat Yeom Jun through combat alone.” With a shake of his body, he raised himself into the air but left a phantom image of his body behind to keep fighting Yeom Jun. He shouted at his foe, “I have never killed anyone, but I see no choice to put an end to one who dares to defy the will of heaven. So don’t blame me for your demise.” Unchi was about to strike Yeom Jun with his sword, when he stopped to think. “I should not kill someone so casually. I should capture him alive.” From the air, he made his sword shine as he shouted, “Behold my power!” Yeom Jun looked up in surprise and saw a massive cloud bursting with lightning, which was actually light coming out of Unchi’s sword. Yeom Jun became pale with fright and tried to ride back to his camp but then found his way blocked by Unchi with his sword. Another Unchi chased him from behind, and two more Unchis appeared at his left and right to surround him. Yet another Unchi came flying down on a cloud, swinging his sword in a dance as he prepared to strike Yeom Jun in the head. When Yeom became so disoriented that he fell off his horse, Unchi came down from the cloud and ordered the other Unchis to bring up his soldiers to restrain Yeom Jun and take him to their camp. Unchi then rode into the enemy camp, where all the chieftains and soldiers, having witnessed Yeom Jun’s capture, surrendered by binding their own hands together. Unchi ordered them to prostrate themselves before him, but he spoke in a gentle manner. “Since you have engaged in acts of treason against the country, you deserve to be executed a hundred times. But I will grant you a special pardon, so go back to your hometowns, farm the land, and become good subjects.” The chieftains all bowed their heads twice and scattered. This was reminiscent of the time Jang Jabang, the meritorious official of the Han dynasty, scattered the enemy soldiers of the Kingdom of Cho at Gyemyeong Mountain.4 On a moonlit night of autumn, he had the song of their homeland sung sadly, which made the Cho men from the Gangdong region homesick.5 Unchi went to Yeom Jun’s dwelling place and released the hundred or so beautiful maidens, allowing them to return home. He then returned to the camp, where he sat down on the commander’s chair and ordered that Yeom Jun be brought to him. He reprimanded Yeom in a loud voice. “With all your talents and courage, you should have served the king with utmost loyalty, thereby earning royal favor for generations of your family. That is the righteous way. But you dared to act in a treasonous manner by causing disturbances across the country. There can be no pardon for that.” Unchi ordered a soldier to take him outside the camp’s gate and behead him, at which point Yeom Jun begged plaintively for his life. “Mine is a crime that is deserving of the execution of three generations of my family, but if you would show benevolence and spare my life, I swear to mend my ways and follow you.” Unchi replied, “If you are truly repentant, that would be a good thing.” He ordered his soldier to unbind Yeom and consoled him before letting him return to his original home. He then gathered his spirit soldiers and sent a report to the king of his victory. When he returned to the royal palace and bowed down before the king, his sovereign questioned him on how he had defeated his enemy. After Unchi related everything to him, the king praised him profusely and gave him many awards.
—
Upon Unchi’s return, all the government officials praised him for his achievement, except for those of the Office of the Royal Messengers, none of whom came to see him. This was because they still hated him for the humiliation he had inflicted on them at the party at the beach. So Unchi decided to trick them again. One day, at the fourth watch,6 the moon was shining brightly and there was not a single cloud in the sky. Unchi rode on a many-colored cloud and summoned a warrior spirit known as the Yellow Turban Strongman as well as all kinds of goblins. He addressed the warrior spirit, “Go quickly and bring me all the royal messengers.” The spirit received the order and presently brought them one by one. The frightened officials prostrated themselves on the ground and looked around at the most terrifying sight of ghosts and goblins all over the place. Unchi reprimanded them in a loud voice. “I played a trick on you once by briefly humiliating your wives, but is that any reason to hate me so much as to treat me like dirt? I had planned a while ago to send all of you to the underworld, but I got busy fulfilling my duty as an official in the Heavenly Realm by night and an official of the earthly government by day, so I put it off. But now I feel obliged to send you down to suffer for your arrogance and contemptuous behavior.” Unchi then summoned the Yellow Turban Strongman. “Take these criminals and turn them over to the King of the Underworld. After they spend eighty thousand years there, they are to be reincarnated as animals.” When the royal messengers heard those words, they shook so badly in fright that it felt as if their souls were leaving their bodies. They begged sorrowfully. “Out of our ignorance, we have done wrong. But please consider our bond as fellow officials and pardon us.” Unchi thought for a long time before he replied, “It is the right course for me to send you to the underworld to suffer, but considering that we were close once, I will pardon you for now. But I may change my mind depending on what I see in the future. Send them away!” At that moment, all the royal messengers woke up from a dream. They had sweated so much that their blankets were all wet, and their minds were in a disoriented state. When they got together and spoke of their dreams, they realized that they were the same. After that, they all treated Unchi with utmost respect.
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One day, the king summoned the minister of taxation and queried him. “You told me before that all the money at the ministry was transformed into other things. What is the situation now?” The minister replied, “Nothing has changed.” As the king became concerned, Unchi stepped forward and spoke. “I bid you to allow me to thoroughly investigate the strange occurrence at the warehouses.” When the king assented, Unchi and the minister went to the warehouse and opened its door. There, they found all the money restored. The minister exclaimed in surprise, “I inspected the warehouse yesterday, and it was full of frogs. But all the silver has returned overnight, so how strange this is.” They opened another warehouse and found all the weapons restored, which surprised everyone once again. When Unchi reported this to the king, he was pleased and guessed that it was all the work of Unchi’s magic.
To be continued in the next issue.
The Big Book of Classic Fantasy
by Anonymous
The Story of Jeon Unchi
by Anonymous
A Thorn Hairpin Romance: The Wang Sibung giu gi
<Introduction> The Wang Sibung giu gi (The story of a fortuitous encounter of Wang Sibung 王十朋奇遇記) is a tale written in Classical Chinese and included in the seventeenth century collection Sindokjae sutaekbon jeongijip (Collection of jeongi tales selected by Gim Jip 愼獨齋手澤本傳奇集) [1574–1656]. The collection was introduced to modern scholarship in 1955 by Jeong Byeonguk. The tale follows the marriage, separation, and reunion of a Northern Song (960–1127) couple, Wang Sibung, a talented man from a poor family, and Jeon Ongnang (Ongnyeon), a devoted woman from a rich family. Ongnang chooses Wang as her husband despite the poverty evident in his only betrothal gift, a thorn hairpin, which stands in contrast to a golden hairpin sent by Son Yeogwon, the scion of a rich family. (A thorn hairpin traditionally symbolizes the faithfulness of a couple amid poverty.) Son’s determination to marry Ongnang at any cost causes Ongnang’s initial separation from Wang, while later misunderstandings in communication drive them to believe each other dead. Nonetheless, their untainted faithfulness to each other, evidenced by their respective refusals to remarry, leads to their reunion, in which the thorn hairpin plays a pivotal role. The tale not only praises the unswerving love of the couple but also promotes an ethic that prioritizes virtue over mundane well-being, and the husband-wife relationship over relationships imposed by powerful others. The tale carries a strong moral lesson as the couple is repeatedly tested. Such themes and lessons would have appealed strongly to Korean readers while Ongnang’s chaste image would resonate with that of Chunhyang in the Chunhyang jeon (The Tale of Chunhyang 春香傳). The story itself is a Korean adaptation of the anonymously written Jingchai ji (The Tale of The Thorn Hairpin 荊釵記), a Chinese southern drama (nanxi 南戲) text, also known as an early chuanqi (romance 傳奇) play. Though written in the same format, Wang Sibung giu gi offers a very different read from the original Jingchai ji. Despite having the same main plot and character names, it presents the tale as a typical chuanqi tale, familiar to Korean readers at the time. For instance, it drops many elements seen in the original, including dialogues, direction, musical tones, song-poems, vernacular lexicons, etc. It also simplifies the arrangement of plots and characters, even omitting certain supporting characters and scenes. The removal of these Chinese dramatic elements would have helped Koreans in understanding the text by removing the barrier of cultural and linguistic differences. Korea did not have the same history and traditions for dramatic performance which, in China, had risen to high popularity during the thirteenth century and onward. Koreans’ appropriation of Chinese dramatic tales must therefore have necessitated the rewriting of the tales to suit the literary tastes of a Korean readership. The original author of this Korean adaptation must have been among the few who were versed in both chuanqi literature and Chinese dramatic texts. In the hands of this anonymous expert, Wang Sibung giu gi was crafted into a well-rounded tale for Koreans, which most would not have noticed was a Korean adaptation of the Jingchai ji without prior knowledge. Apart from the dominant theme of the love and virtue of husband and wife triumphing over socioeconomic differences, physical distance, and the ill will of others, the tale poses questions essential to our understanding not only of the story but of its readership. The tale unquestionably embodies a uniquely Korean way of appropriating a Chinese dramatic tale which provides a clue to understanding the expanding reading and writing practices of late Joseon Koreans and the development of Korean fiction. I hope this translation will help readers to explore the treasured sea of Korean classical literature, in which subtle currents of culture and creativity meet, intertwine, and create new versions that appeal to different readers. <Wang Sibung giu gi - The Story of a Fortuitous Encounter of Wang Sibung> Wang Sibung1 came from the Taewon2 area during the Song dynasty.3 He was a noble man with a scholarly disposition. His father had passed away when Sibung was still young. After that, he lived alone with his widowed mother. Although he was poor, he was always high-spirited. His talent exceeded all others. A neighbor named Jeon Gongwon had a daughter whose childhood name was Ongnyeon. When she turned three years old, her mother died, leaving her in the care of a paternal uncle’s family. Her father was remarried to a woman whose surname was Choe, and lived with her. From early childhood Ongnang4 received a good education at home. She was very skilled at embroidery and learned both poetry and calligraphy.5 Her talent and beauty were extraordinary. She possessed a flowerlike face and her composure resembled the moon’s. She truly was one of the rarest beauties of the country. One day, Gongwon said to his wife, Lady Choe, “Although he is poor now, I believe Wang Sibung will become a great man someday. I want to have him as my son-in-law.” Lady Choe said, “Husband and wife is one of the cardinal relationships in human life. Yet you only see what you can see now: his talents. You have not thought carefully about the problems that will fall upon your daughter’s life with him in the distant future.” Gongwon replied, “My only wish is to find a good son-in-law and I believe I know how to select one. Whether he is rich or poor doesn’t matter.” Having failed to dissuade Gongwon, Lady Choe and Ongnang’s foster mother began preparing for the proposal, sending a matchmaker to Wang Sibung’s house to discuss the marriage. Delighted, Wang Sibung promised to send them a formal marriage request by the chosen day.6 When the day came, however, his poverty left him unable to perform the proper formalities. He sent only a marriage letter and a thorn hairpin to fix the wedding date. In the same neighborhood, there lived a man named Son Yeogwon, who had considerable wealth. Having noticed Ongnang’s talent and beauty, he too sent a marriage proposal to Lady Choe. Lady Choe spoke to her husband, “Whereas the Wang family lives in extreme poverty, the Son family is very rich. Why did you pick a poor man to marry your only daughter, knowing that the rest of her life could be burdened?” Unwilling to give in, she persuaded the Son family to send a golden hairpin and, showing it, again tried to persuade her husband. Her husband decided that he would present the thorn hairpin and the golden one in a cup together and ask his daughter to choose her future husband by picking one. Ongnang said, “Although Wang’s household is poor and the thorn hairpin is a lowly object, it arrived at our house first, so I regard it as something sent by my future husband. Son’s household is certainly prosperous and the golden hairpin is a valuable item, but it arrived later. Having already received a gift from the Wang family, accepting another from the Son family would be equivalent to serving two husbands. Our family would be disgraced beyond repair and draw sneers from our neighbors.” Unable to change her mind, her parents were very upset and sent their daughter on horseback to the Wang family well before the wedding day. From the day she arrived at Wang’s house, Ongnang worked diligently to fulfill her wifely duties and served her mother-in-law very well. Before too long, Wang Sibung set out for the capital city to take the civil examination. Son Yeogwon, although incompetent to take the exam, deliberately took the opportunity to travel with him. They stayed together in the same town before reporting to the examination place. Son did not pass, but Wang won first place. After three days of celebration and marching in the streets, Wang was appointed judge of Joyang and soon his fame spread far and near. Nearby, there was a minister who recognized Wang’s talents and wanted him as his son-in-law. The minister said, “I would like my only daughter to serve you as a wife. What do you think?” Wang rose from his seat to reply, “With the little knowledge I had, I was so fortunate as to pass the civil service examination. My first wife was always by my side during difficult times.7 I am not so heartless as to abandon her just to become a son-in-law to an illustrious family like yours.” Embarrassed, the minister did not speak of it again. When Wang was about to leave for Joyang, Son Yeogwon sent a messenger to him, requesting an audience. [When he met Wang,] Son said deceptively, “I am going to return home tomorrow. Would you like to send a letter home?” Delighted at the offer, Wang wrote a letter to his mother, which read: “[My Dear Mother] Your son was placed first in the civil examination and appointed judge of Joyang. My assignment begins on a certain day. I will dispatch some people and horses to help you and my wife move here. I will devote myself to governing my people and becoming a filial son. Your dutiful son, Wang Sibung.” Wang sealed the letter and handed it to Son. Son, after taking charge of the letter, forged a similar missive saying: “[My Dear Mother] Fortunately, your son passed the civil examination and was appointed judge of Joyang. I also became the son-in-law of a minister. Soon I will head to Joyang with my new bride. I will dispatch some people and horses to help you move here. Please come alone. Send my wife back home to her family. I do not wish to see her ever again . . .” Son enclosed the forgery in the original envelope and sent it on. Wang’s mother was both happy and sad to read the letter. Ongnang asked her mother-in-law what was troubling her. She replied, “As a mother, I am so thrilled to hear that my son became judge of Joyang after passing the examination. However, I am also saddened to learn that he has married another woman, taking her with him, and wants me to send you back to your family.” Ongnang said, “Ever since I joined this family, I have devoted myself to the household and to you. I diligently fetched water and ground grain in the mortar with my own hands. With a faithful heart, I kept you warm during the winter and cool during the summer while treating you to delicious food.8 My husband and I promised that we would grow old together and swore an oath that we would be buried in the same grave.9 After all that, how could he just leave me, breaking off our relationship?” Her mother-in-law could not find it in her heart to leave Ongnang behind to join her son. Ongnang’s parents soon heard the news. They condemned their son-in-law’s words, exclaiming angrily, “Although he was knowledgeable and well versed in writing, our poor son-in-law would not have been able to afford to take the civil examination if our household had not paid for his lodging in the capital city and all the extra expenses of travel. Indeed, it is our support that allowed him to pass the civil examination. Nonetheless, his haughtiness has led him to become the son-in-law of a minister. His cruelty is indescribable!” And they took a coach to bring Ongnang back to their house. They admonished Ongnang, saying, “Your husband married another woman from an influential family and broke off his marriage with you. How could he leave you so harshly?” Ongnang said, “Although my husband is without achievements or good deeds, I don’t believe he is capable of breaking my heart so harshly. No, this could not possibly have been his own idea. I suspect that some deceiver has come between us and is scheming to tear us apart.” Her parents spoke, “Mr. Son also returned from the capital city. Surely, he knows the truth,” and they went to inquire. Son’s information was, of course, consistent with the content of the letter. Her parents soon returned and said to Ongnang, “Son’s words were in agreement. The letter speaks none other than the truth.” Son was a sly and manipulative man. He next gave Lady Choe a large bribe to take his part. She told her husband, “Wang is already remarried to another woman and he clearly indicated in the letter that he did not wish to see Ongnang ever again. Perhaps, we should ask Son to become our son-in-law. That way, we can make Wang feel ashamed, and Ongnang will have someone to depend on. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Ongnang’s father listened attentively. Soon after, while gently consoling her, he suggested to Ongnang that she marry Son. Ongnang responded, “According to Wang Chok,10 a loyal subject does not serve two kings, and a chaste wife does not marry a second husband. That is how I should live. I cannot decide to remarry solely on the grounds of a letter that is so hard to believe. Besides, I never saw the letter and cannot be certain it was truly sent by my husband.” But her parents were determined to have Son as a son-in-law. Unable to resist their will, Ongnang eventually lied, pretending to agree, “How can I defy my parents’ wish?” Her father trusted her words and picked a day for the wedding. On the wedding night, Ongnang took a bath, changed her clothes, and sat elegantly upright in the bridal room, careful to draw no suspicion. [At the first opportunity, however,] she snuck out of the room and disappeared. Her family and their servants anxiously searched the nearby mountains and waters. On the second day, they found Ongnang’s shoes abandoned on a riverbank lush with red smartweed. They concluded that Ongnang must have jumped into the river to her death but, search as they might, they couldn’t locate her body. The whole household lamented. On the same day when Ongnang was believed to have leaped into the river, a man named Jeon Jaha was appointed as prefect of Bokju.11 That evening, traveling with his family, he anchored his ship to the riverbank. As he dozed on the bow, he had a short dream. In his dream, a figure descended from heaven and spoke to him, “Tonight, a woman will come here to jump into the river. In your former life, she was your daughter. You must save her and look after her.” Before Jeon Jaha could ask a single question, the figure vanished. Yawning and stretching, Jeon Jaha woke from his dream. Suddenly, he heard the sound of someone splashing into the river. He quickly cried out to the skipper to pull the person out of the water. It was none other than Ongnang [chilled and unconscious]. They called for her to be quickly stripped off her wet garments and dressed in new dry clothes. A brazier was brought in to warm her and warm wine soup was gently poured into her mouth to improve her blood circulation. After a while, Ongnang regained consciousness. Jeon Jaha asked his wife to inquire about her name, place of residence, and reasons for jumping into the river. Ongnang replied, “I am the daughter of Jeon Gongwon, who lives in Taewon, and the wife of Wang Sibung. Last month, my husband was appointed to be judge of Joyang and prepared to move from the capital city to his new post. A vicious man in our neighborhood seized the opportunity and tried to force me to be his wife. I could not become a mate to an animal [a dog or a pig] so, deciding that I would rather be eaten by fish, I leaped into the river.” Her words broke Jeon Jaha’s heart. He sent one of his underlings to Joyang to investigate. Arriving at the outskirts of Joyang, the man saw a funeral procession with a red banner resting by a riverbank. The banner read, “The Coffin of Judge Wang of Joyang.” He accosted a servant walking with the procession and inquired. The servant told him that the judge had been struck with illness and died shortly after arriving at his new post. Without looking into the matter further, Jeon’s underling assumed that Wang Sibung had died and hastily returned to report his discovery. Ongnang accepted the grievous news without a moment’s doubt and sank into despair. She became pale and her heart was crushed. Overwhelmed with grief and sorrow, she began to fade into death. Jeon Jaha brought her bowls of rice porridge and encouraged her to eat so that she could regain strength. He took her with him to Bokgeon,12 where he continued to look after her and soon became very fond of her. One day, Ongnang asked Jeon Jaha, “A long time has passed since my husband’s death, but I have yet to offer a memorial service or a cup of wine before his spirit. I would like to perform a ritual for the dead to ease his passage to eternity.” Jeon Jaha secretly thought the ritual was a foolish practice from a heterodox religion but chose to allow it because he did not want to break her heart. Ongnang took incense and went to the Temple of Gilsang to prepare for the ritual. While she was there, a governor of Bokju was also at the temple, holding a ritual for his deceased wife. Ongnang glimpsed him through the curtains and thought he resembled her husband Wang Sibung. After performing the ritual, she returned home and talked quietly with her maid, “The official performing the ritual at the temple today very much resembled my husband.” Jeon Jaha happened to hear their conversation on his way to the outhouse. Later, he summoned Ongnang and asked about what she said. Ongnang replied, “When I was at the temple, I happened to see an official who looked something like my deceased husband. I only brought it up casually. I did not mean it any other way.” Struck by her unusual encounter, Jeon Jaha dispatched a subordinate to Bokju to find out the name of its governor. The man returned and reported, “Wang Sibung currently serves as governor of Bokju.” Jeon Jaha soon brought together all the governors and magistrates of nearby towns. As wine was served the gathered guests talked pleasantly with one another. However Wang Sibung, with a broken heart and a sad countenance, did not mingle with the crowd. Jeon Jaha asked Wang Sibung, “What was your post prior to coming to Bokju?” Wang replied, “I was fortunate enough to pass the civil examination and was posted in Joyang to serve as a judge. Shortly after, I was reassigned and Wang Jagong came to replace me. Sadly, Wang Jagong was struck with illness and passed away within a month after his appointment, while I came here to serve as the prefect of Bokju.” Jeon Jaha then asked, “Regarding your wife, of what illness and where did she die?” Wang Sibung explained, “I am originally from Taewon. I married the daughter of Jeon Gongwon, who lived in the same village. Last year, I went to the capital city to take the civil examination and passed. I was immediately appointed as judge of Joyang. Later, when I was assigned to Bokju, I brought my mother there so that she could stay with me. My wife however, stayed behind at her family’s house. Under mysterious circumstances, she threw herself into a river and died. I sent people to search along the river for her remains. However, to this day, they have not been found.” Jeon Jaha went on, “What betrothal gifts did you send to the bride’s house with your marriage proposal?” Wang Sibung replied, “I was too poor to meet the formalities. I sent only the thorn hairpin that belonged to my mother.” Jeon Jaha said, “Your wife is long gone and not coming back alive. I have an adopted daughter. Why don’t you marry her? She can attend to your needs and help to manage your household.” Wang Sibung said, “With the seas and mountains as a witness, my wife with the thorn hairpin and I made a wedding vow to be faithful to each other. She must have jumped into the river to honor that vow by her death. If I marry another woman, how can I face her again when we meet in the underworld someday?” Jeon Jaha said, “It is a great lack of filial piety to have no descendants. Without a wife, how can you have a son to carry on the family name and continue your traditions by paying tribute to your ancestors?” Wang Sibung abruptly changed the subject of their talk, looking uneasily to his left and right to convey that he had no intention of remarrying. [Encouraged,] Jeon Jaha drew out the thorn hair pin and showed it to Wang Sibung, saying, “I happened to acquire this object. Does it not belong to your family?” Surprise transformed Wang’s countenance. He exclaimed, “That is the hairpin that my mother personally sent to my wife!” For some time, he could only caress the hairpin and lament. The sound of his cries pierced the heavens. Finally he wiped his tears and asked, “How did you acquire this hairpin?” Jeon Jaha said, “Its owner is in the inner quarters.” As Wang Sibung finally realized that his wife was there, he almost fainted. Meanwhile Ongnang peeked through a slightly open window and immediately recognized her husband. She wept with joy. Reunited at last, the ecstatic couple felt as if they would go mad with delight. Ongnang told him first how she had felt during their separation, “Since my first day with you, with the thorn hairpin in my hair, I worked hard to achieve the three exemplary conducts13 and fulfill the womanly way every day of my life, diligently managing the household. We made a vow that we would enjoy one hundred years of happy marriage and wished to be buried together in the same grave. But how could you, a man who won first place in the civil service exam at the red terrace of the palace,14 and wore a tiger-shaped tally15at the pavilion of a bell,16 abandon your old wife, belittling the virtue and affection you had developed with her when you were poor and humble, and valuing more your affection for your new wife? How could you send your mother a letter to drive me out of the house so cruelly? Although my father, influenced by the cunning words of my stepmother, did not advise me to be faithful, it was not her words alone that caused the turmoil. It was primarily Son Yeogwon who played vile tricks on us. I decided to take the path of a precious pearl sinking into the deep sea to end my life so that I would not have to stand again before the silken [wedding] screen. The messenger sent to Joyang swiftly returned and reported your death. The news stunned me and tore apart my heart. I hoped to send your spirit to the underworld in peace, so I went to the temple to perform a ritual. There, I glimpsed someone who closely resembled you. I thought I was dreaming but wasn’t certain. Today in this government building, I am able to keep our old vow, as if meeting an old friend at the bank of the Xiang River.17 Remembering Jeon Jaha’s grace in pulling me out of the water to save my life, I feel I am indebted to him forever, just as I am indebted to my own parents for their love.” Clasped securely in each other’s arms, the couple cried until the day grew dark. Wang Sibung, after hearing the details of his wife’s ordeal, thanked Jeon Jaha until he ran out of words to further express his appreciation. He lingered, enjoying their reunion, like finding the mirror of Akjang18 and the sword of Yeonpyeong.19 Next day, Wang Sibung returned to Bokju with his wife, but they routinely returned to greet Jeon Jaha three times on every tenth day. Ongnang said to Wang Sibung, “Let’s send some people with horses to bring my father, stepmother, and foster mother here.” Wang agreed. In the interim, however, the stepmother had gone blind and died. The foster mother had also passed away. Alone in his home, only Ongnang’s father remained. He was soon brought to Bokju. Thereafter, the couple served Ongnang’s father and foster father [Jeon Jaha] equally. [Time passed and] Wang Sibung had a number of sons. All of them later won first place in the civil examination. The household grew, generating many descendants, and the family name shone. People no longer even remember them by their names; they simply call them “Top Graduate Wang.” 1 This translation, despite the fact that the tale was originally set in China, uses the Korean readings of names and places that appear in the original text. Because the base text is a Korean translation of the Chinese tale that was circulated and evolved among Koreans, the Korean reading reflects a Korean savor and traces of Korean reading habits, evoking the cultural connotations which the Chinese names and places held among Koreans. The name Wang Sibung is drawn from Koreans’ conventional reading of the Chinese characters “Sipbung” (十朋) which appear in the Korean translation of the tale. Jeong Hakseong said “Sipbung” seems to have been read as “Sibung” among seventeenth-century Koreans because “Sibung” was closer to the Chinese reading, at the time, of the characters, “Shipeng.” 2 Taewon (Taiyuan in Chinese 太原) is a historic city located in Shanxi province, China. It was called Jinyang (Chinyang in Korean 晉陽) during the Spring and Autumn Period (771–303 BCE) and remained an important site in traditional Chinese culture. 3 Song (宋) China (960–1279). 4 Starting from here, the original text refers to Ongnyeon (玉蓮) as Ongnang (玉娘). 5 “Poetry and calligraphy” is a translation of siseo (詩書), which can also mean the Sigyeong (The book of poetry 詩經) and Seogyeong (The book of history 書經). 6 This sentence describes napchae (納采), the first stage in the traditional wedding known as “six marriage rites” (六禮), which consists of the groom′s family making a formal marriage proposal. 7 The original text uses the expression jogang ji cheo (糟糠之妻), which refers to a wife who endured the hardship of poverty with her husband while eating distillers’ dregs and husks. It also connotes a first wife who supports her husband before he succeeds. 8 These three expressions—”personally fetching water and grinding grain with the mortar” (操持井臼), “keeping your parents warm during the winter and cool during the summer” (溫凊之奉), and “treating them to delicious food” (甘指之養)—are commonly used in both China and Korea to describe the praiseworthy conduct of a virtuous wife and daughter-in-law. 9 The original text has traditional expressions for the companionship between husband and wife: “aging together for one hundred years (a whole lifetime)” (百年偕老) and “making an oath to be buried in the same grave” (同穴之盟). 10 Wang Chok (Wang Zhu in Chinese 王蠋) was a minister of the Qi (齊) state during the Warring States Period (ca. fifth century–221 BCE). He is known for his remark that “a loyal liege man does not serve two kings, and a chaste wife does not change her husband by marrying a second husband” (忠臣不事二君, 貞女不更二夫). 11 Bokju (Fuzhou in Chinese) is a city in present-day Fujian province. Later in the text, Jeon Jaha is described as the governor of Bokgeon (Geonswi in Korean Ëï倅) while Wang Sibung is mentioned as the prefect of Bokju (福州刺史) or the governor of Bokju (Bokjuswi in Korean 福州倅). To reduce confusion in the translation, I refer to Jeon and Wang by their names. 12 Bokgeon (Fujian in Chinese 福建) is a province in the southern part of China. 13 The original text has samjeong (三貞), a woman’s three virtuous conducts toward her parents, parents- in-laws, and her husband. 14 The literal translation of this passage is “winning the head of a dragon at the vermilion terrace” (捷龍頭於丹墀). The “head of a dragon” means “winning the first place in the civil service exam” (a top graduate 壯元). The vermilion terrace is an open, flat place (or series of steps) leading up to a palace hall. 15 “A tiger-shaped tally” is a translation of hobu (虎符), a typical token used by military officials as proof of authorization to command the army. 16 “Pavilion of a Bell” is a translation of ryeonggak (鈴閣), an official place or residence for soldiers to conduct military business. 17 The Xiang (湘) River (in present-day Hunan province) frequently appears as a place for missing and parting from friends. 18 “Mirror of Akjang” (Lechang in Chinese 樂昌) is a story about Princess Lechang during the Chen dynasty (551–389). When the Sui dynasty (581–318) invaded, Princess Lechang and her husband Xu Deyan were about to part. Her husband broke a mirror in two and gave her half as a token of their promise and a hope for reunion. Later, Xu Deyan happened to see a broken piece of a mirror, which led him back to his wife. Lechang’s mirror is a common trope for the reunion of a couple. 19 The sword of Yeonpyeong (Yanping in Chinese 延平) also represents the reunion of two treasured swords, called Longquan jian (龍泉劍) and Tai’a jian (太阿劍), which were discovered by Lei Huan (雷煥) at the order of Zhang Hua (張華). Lei Huan gave one sword to Zhang Hua, while keeping the other for himself. However, Zhang Hua predicted that the two swords would be reunited again. Later, Zhang was killed, and his sword disappeared. Soon after, Lei Huan also died. One day, Lei Huan’s son set out carrying his father’s sword. As he passed the bridge of Yanping, the sword leapt into the river and disappeared. He searched for the sword but couldn’t find it, seeing only two dragons intertwined together. This tale indicates the destiny of the two swords to be united. An earlier version of this translation appeared as “Paean to Marital Fidelity in Poverty: the Wang Sibung giu gi, Korean Romance of the Thorn Hairpin.” The Review of Korean Studies 22, no. 1 (June 2019): 405–26. Introduced and translated by Sookja Cho Associate Professor of Korean and Comparative Literature Arizona State University
by Cho, Sookja
Gungnyeo: The Palace Women
Gungnyeo, literally “palace women,” is a term referring to all women residing in the palace who were not members of the royal family. The palace also saw the comings and goings of uinyeo (female physicians) who worked in the medical wing (naeuiwon) and female seamstresses who worked in the royal tailor shop (sanguiwon), but these women themselves were not called gungnyeo. Instead, they were known as medicinal kisaeng or tailor kisaeng who commanded the highest status of all kisaeng (trained courtesans). Since they did not reside within the palace walls, they technically did not meet the criteria of gungnyeo. Strictly speaking, gungnyeo had to be officially decreed by the court to wait upon the royal family. In his book Ojuyeonmunjang-jeonsango (A collection of writings on various topics by Oju), Lee Gyu-gyeong further distinguishes between gungnyeo and gungbi (court slaves) by stating, “Typically, gungno (court servant) held the low-level court post of byeolgam while the gungnyeo fulfilled the role of ladies-in-waiting known as hang-a as befitted their status. Gungbi were known as susari, or in the common tongue, musuri (female slave).” And yet, it was not unheard of for female slaves residing in the palace to be alternatively known as gungnyeo, so it appears the two terms gungnyeo and gungbi were used interchangeably to a certain extent. As such, gungnyeo took on many tasks around the palace, such as the jimil nain who waited closely on the king and queen, as well as other nain who variously worked in the chimbang (sewing room), subang (embroidery room), naesojubang (kitchen for daily meals), oesojubang (kitchen for banquets and feasts), saenggwabang (desserts kitchen), sedapbang (laundry room), sesugan (laundry room for the king and queen), and deungchokbang (room for lanterns and candles). Crown Princess Hyebin is said to have overseen approximately thirty to forty sanggung (court ladies) and sinyeo (ladies-in-waiting), and since this was the number of gungnyeo who waited on a single crown princess, we can assume that the number of gungnyeo who waited on the king and queen was significantly higher. A letter written by a sanggung in cursive hangul © National Palace Museum of Korea Recruitment and Promotion of Gungnyeo Gungnyeo were not hired on some set, regular basis; rather, they were recruited whenever there was an opening or when the court was being newly outfitted under new leadership. The postings weren’t typically advertised widely; instead, the court received recommendations and carefully picked from a vetted shortlist of candidates, often through word-of-mouth. In some cases, the queen or crown princess was allowed to bring their former female servants from their family home with them to the palace. In Hanjungnok (The Memoirs of Lady Hyegyeong), there are several passages that allude to the gungnyeo selection process. After the birth of Crown Prince Sado, a new royal hall was quickly put together for the young boy prince. In the process, King Yeongjo brought in the gungnyeo who formerly served under Queen Seonhui, the queen to former king Gyeongjong, to wait on the crown prince. This informs us that the gungnyeo were typically made to leave the palace if the royal person they served was no longer present or alive, and also that in at least one instance, the king himself selected the gungnyeo. Another interesting case involved the recruitment of nain to serve the Crown Prince and Crown Princess. For this role, the court looked to hire from among the daughters of court officers who held the position of byeolgam and those who held the higher promoted position of sayak. The book tells of how one Kim Su-wan, who held the post of sayak, reportedly attempted to prevent his daughter from becoming a gungnyeo by seeking to influence King Yeong-jo’s consort. This man had apparently worked to pressure the king’s own concubine to stop the court from selecting his daughter to work as a nain. In Hyebingungilgi (Palace journal of the Crown Princess Hyebin), there are records of one Kim Do-heung, a byeolgam of the court, who faked the death of his daughter Han-mae, a privately owned servant, to prevent her from going to work in the palace. For this misdeed, Kim was later punished. In another instance, Kim Seong-gyeong, who served as a seowon at Yongdonggung Palace, was purportedly punished for failing to prepare his daughter sufficiently for her role as a nain. These examples shed light on the common practice of hiring gungnyeo from among the daughters of low-ranking court officials, and show that at least several of them resisted and fought to prevent their daughters from working such positions. The Life of a Gungnyeo The life of the gungnyeo is well illustrated in the hangul descriptions found in Gungnyeosa (The song of the gungnyeo) that is assumed to have been written by a gungnyeo, date unknown. In the book, the typical attire of a gungnyeo is described as such: “Before each morning assembly and evening greetings at Jangchungak Hall within Mianggung Palace (residence of the King of Han Dynasty China), we are required to don long skirts that flow down from our waist, a well-adorned big wig for the head, along with a headpiece and ribbon that are pleasing to the eye.” The unknown author of the book goes on to describe the joys of palace life by remarking how “the always upright Sanggung Kim and the pure-at-heart Sanggung Lee called each other ‘sister’ and swore to be friends forever. In their excitement, they called me to join them as they banged on jade bottles as if they were drums and shared drinks aplenty as we danced and sang and had an altogether merry time.” However, the author also wrote of the sorrows of homesickness: “My parents and siblings live no more than 10 ri outside the walls of Hanyang, and yet I long for them during the day and dream of them at night enough to make my insides melt and quiver even if they were made of steel and stone. When, after much effort, I finally obtained a pass to visit my family outside the palace, I rushed outside, greeted my parents, siblings, and relatives, and stayed with them for a day, which was not entirely enough for us to catch up. Then, when our time was up and I had to return to the palace, I leapt up, clutching my pass in my hands, and raced back to the palace in a hurry while promising my family to see them next spring.” Married women could not work in the palace, which meant that gungnyeo were typically brought in as pre-teen girls who would be trapped inside the palace for the rest of their lives, but other than the grief of not being able to see their families and loved ones, they were allowed to share in the riches and luxuries of the palace. The women were also adept at entertaining themselves, so their lives must not have been all bad. At times, the gungnyeo threw their own parties; in Jeongjosillok (Annals of King Jeongjo), the king himself saw fit to ban the feasts of gungnyeo that were conducted outside the palace walls. “The gungnyeo were seen cavorting with kisaeng and playing loud music as they entertained each other on boats while being waited on by aengnye (common slaves) and other gungno (palace slaves), to the point that huge crowds gathered by the riverbanks. On extreme instances, the gungnyeo were seen entering the riverside pavilions and vacation homes of merchants; other obscene, lascivious conduct will not be repeated here, as to not give rise to more ugly talk.” This description shows that gungnyeo were known to entertain themselves in the company of kisaeng with music and rowboats, and enjoyed free access to the gazebos and summer homes of rich merchants. From this, it’s clear not only that the gungnyeo knew how to have fun, but also that they commanded a high level of authority. Some scholars have concluded that gungnyeo were not allowed breaks, but the accounts in Gungnyeosa show that the women were granted at least one sojourn a year outside the palace walls. We can assume that depending on the year or the king, gungnyeo were allowed time off in some, but not all, cases. What’s true was that the gungnyeo remained confined to the palace until their deaths, never being allowed to marry or be reunited with their loved ones, but that they somehow managed to carve out relatively prosperous and stable lives of their own within their community. A gungnyeo from the late Joseon period © National Folk Museum of Korea Perception and Status of the Gungnyeo Hanjungnok offers telling glimpses into the authority and influence enjoyed by gungnyeo in general, but in particular by the sanggung (higher-ranking gungnyeo). Lady Hyegyeong is said to have reminisced that Choi, her attending lady-in-waiting, who received her on the day she came to live in the palace, was “not one to be taken lightly, as she had a firm and thorough grasp of the history of the royal family and court etiquette.” Later, Lady Hyegyeong again remarked on the strict customs of Sanggung Choi. Once, when Crown Prince Sado was being unfairly scolded by his father King Yeongjo who wrongly believed that his son had drunk liquor, Sanggung Choi stepped up to defend the poor prince when no one else dared. None of the court’s ministers (jeongseung, panseo) dared speak up on behalf of the prince, yet a lady-in-waiting mustered the courage to do so. Sanggung Lee, who began her career as a nain and later became one of Yeongjo’s concubines, is said to have scolded the queen herself, Queen Jeongsun. When the queen’s family wrote the queen a letter criticizing Crown Prince Sado, she shared this letter with King Yeongjo. When she did so, the sanggung is said to have chastised the queen directly, saying that no queen had the right to criticize a crown prince. This incidence is a clear testament to the compelling authority of the court’s sanggung, who were proud bearers of the court’s customs. In the rapidly evolving whirlwind of political power struggles in the palace, the gungnyeo often found themselves swept up in the intrigue surrounding them, while at other times, merely observed what unfolded. In either instance, however, the gungnyeo always remained an important agent within the palace walls. It appears that they did not always have a positive view of the court’s power and authority. Kim Myeong-gil, known as the last sanggung of the Joseon Dynasty, concluded in her memoir, “Spending the entirety of my life—all sixty years—inside the palace walls, I have come to believe that most of the folks who call themselves royalty or nobility are in fact empty shells. Many of them spent their lives in humiliating comfort, degrading themselves even more than the lowliest commoners or kisaeng; such stories are too unfortunate to simply ignore.” One can’t fault Kim for waxing pessimistic as she had directly witnessed the fall of the Joseon court, but the fact remains that gungnyeo were key observers of those closest to power. Translated by Amber Hyun Jung Kim Jung Byung-Sul Professor of Korean Literature Seoul National University
by Jung Byung-Sul
Gungwol: The Korean Palaces
In its most essential sense, a palace is where the ruler of a kingdom resides. Given this capacity, the palace naturally serves as the political epicenter of the land as well as its cultural touchstone. When ancient kingdoms first emerged in Korean history, palaces were built in many cities such as Gyeongju and Gaeseong, but the only city where the buildings remain intact to this day is Seoul, home to the palaces of Joseon (1392–1910), the nation’s last dynasty. Early in the Joseon Dynasty, Gyeongbokgung Palace was built in the center of northern Seoul but it suffered irreparable damage during the Imjin War (the Japanese invasions of the 1590s). After it was left abandoned for nearly three hundred years, the palace was finally rebuilt in the mid-nineteenth century. During the long hiatus, Changdeokgung Palace functioned as the main royal palace in its stead. Changdeokgung was situated within the same perimeter as Changgyeonggung Palace and both were collectively referred to as donggwol (literally, “eastern palaces”) for being located to the east of Gyeongbokgung. Meanwhile, Gyeonghuigung Palace (seogwol or “west palace”) was often used as the ancillary wing to Changdeokgung. Deoksugung Palace, for its part, served as the king’s formal residence for temporary stretches of time such as during the Imjin War or the later years of the Joseon Dynasty. Palaces were whole cities unto themselves. For the king, the palace was both his workplace and his living quarters; the cramped palace was also home to a substantial number of people, not least of which were the queen, the queen dowager, the princes and princesses, gungnyeo (female servants to the court), and eunuchs. The king saw to the affairs of the kingdom with the ministers and members of his cabinet who daily entered through the palace walls; in various other parts of the palace, a multitude of servants prepared ingredients, cooked meals, dyed clothing, and handstitched royal robes. Added to this, servants also raised dogs for medicinal uses in the naeuiwon (the medical wing of the palace), while some members of the royal family kept pets of their own (King Sukjong was known to have had a cat). Moreover, the palaces weren’t merely for the living. The living and the dead dwelled together within the same palace walls. There were many places outside the palace that were devoted to carrying out ceremonial ancestral rites (jesa), but the palace itself had quite a few dedicated spaces in which the royal descendants could pay tribute to the departed. Since so many people resided in the palace, the buildings also witnessed many deaths; furthermore, compared to commoners, the royals observed a relatively longer period of mourning and observed frequent ancestral rites and rituals. This necessitated a considerable number of halls and spaces given over to the ancestors, the most important ones being the jesil, binjeon, and honjeon. The jesil was a chamber used to prepare for the ancestral rites, and the binjeon was a place where the body of a deceased king or royal personage was kept for a customary four months before it could be entombed. The honjeon was where the kings’ shinju tablets (memorial tablets believed to symbolize the spirit of the deceased ancestor) were kept until the three-year mourning period was completed and then moved to Jongmyo Shrine (the queen’s tablet would be kept in the honjeon for longer until it could be accompanied by her king’s shinju upon his death). Today, the buildings and facilities of Joseon’s palaces are mostly recognized as ancient relics from a bygone era, but admirers can walk away with a deeper, and more colorful, appreciation of the palaces if they imagine the people who lived within their walls. Donggwol-do (Painting of the Eastern Palaces: Changdeokgung and Changgyeonggung), circa 1830 © Dong-A University Palaces were also major literary spaces. Both the inhabitants of the palace and residents of the city proper devoted themselves to creating and enjoying works of literature. The palaces were often important backdrops to the literary works as well. The writings of the kings were collected and bound into books such as Yeolseong eoje (Comprehensive collection of poetry and prose by former kings), while personalities like Lady Hyegyeong—Yeongjo’s daughter-in-law and the mother of King Jeongjo—penned memoirs and other works. In Lady Hyegyeong’s case, she wrote a memoir known as Hanjungnok (The Memoirs of Lady Hyegyeong.) The kings, queens, and members of the court were the most voracious consumers of literature in Joseon society and enjoyed not just poetry and prose written in Sino-Korean hanja characters but fiction written in hangul as well. Feature-length hangul novels such as Yussi samdaerok (A record of three generations of the Yu family) that were devoured by women of the court including the queens, crown princesses, and other palace women, remain to this day a key influence in the history of Korean literature. Such books of fiction were well preserved and passed down by the people of the palace, giving us insight into how much these works of hangul fiction were appreciated in the later period of the Joseon Dynasty. As the cultural hotbed of the nation, the palace was simultaneously where many stories came together and where new ones were created. Everyone’s eyes and ears were directed at the palace as it was the seat of absolute power. Because it received such intense attention, the palace naturally became a popular setting for many literary works. There are quite a few works of literature that are set against the royal palace, but of these, I would like to introduce three that dealt with actual historical events that took place in the palace. Most literary works that are set in the palace deal with the power struggles that often took place within its walls; Gyechuk ilgi (Diary of the year Gyechuk), Inhyeon wanghu jeon (Tales of Queen Inhyeon), and Hanjungnok (The Memoirs of Lady Hyegyong) are no exception. The first two works are closer in spirit to fiction, while the latter is a personal memoir. Gyechuk ilgi describes the events surrounding Queen Inmok’s confinement to Deoksugung in 1613, the gyechuk year. Queen Inmok was the second queen consort of King Seonjo; she had become queen after the first queen consort died without producing a son for the king. King Seonjo sired several children with different consorts, one of whom—Gwanghae—was specially proclaimed as crown prince for his service to the kingdom during the confusion of the Imjin War. However, when Queen Inmok went on to have a son, Yeongchang, Gwanghae became understandably concerned that his position as crown prince would be threatened as he was the son of a concubine. In Joseon society, children of concubines were afforded a status lower than the queen’s own issues. Gwanghae ultimately managed to be crowned king after Seonjo died when Yeongchang was still a child, but Gwanghae remained anxious about Queen Inmok and Yeongchang, whose very existence threatened to undermine his legitimacy. In the end, he had Queen Inmok confined to another palace and ordered the death of Yeongchang. Queen Inmok remained under house arrest until Gwanghae was eventually deposed by a coup d’état by Injo. These events were recorded in Gyechuk ilgi. Found in the later pages of the book is the statement—”And so the nain (female servants of the palace) has thusly written”—which led many to believe that the book was written by a nain who worked in the palace. However, these sorts of inscriptions were relatively common in works of fiction during that period; it would be difficult to attribute such a statement to a particular author. As such, Gyechuk ilgi remains a historical novel of which the author and date remain unknown. Compared to Gyechuk ilgi, Inhyeon wanghu jeon is a more fictionalized version of actual recorded events in history. Queen Inhyeon was the queen consort of King Sukjong. Sukjong, for his part, was completely infatuated with his concubine, Jang Hui-bin. In 1689, he deposed his queen and decreed Jang to be his new queen. This behavior on the part of Sukjong—kicking out his wife and naming a concubine as his new wife—was forbidden under law for the general public in Joseon. Later, Queen Inhyeon is reinstated and Jang is sentenced to death by poisoning. The drama surrounding the faithful wife and scheming concubine is a theme that overwhelmingly resonated with many readers, particularly women, not just in the Joseon Period but to this very day. It is not surprising, therefore, that the story of Queen Inhyeon has been adapted not just into books but also for both the small and big screen numerous times over the years. While the authorship of Gyechuk ilgi and Inhyeon wanghu jeon are still unknown, Hanjungnok is a memoir with a clear author and date of writing. Lady Hyegyeong’s husband Crown Prince Sado was named the royal heir immediately upon his birth and was slated to be the next in line to the throne. However, he was killed while still in his tender twenties by his own father, King Yeongjo. Yeongjo ordered him locked him inside a rice chest where Sado, who was his only son, starved to death after eight days. Since the later kings of Joseon were all descendants of Sado, this event had explosive political ramifications. In old age, Lady Hyegyeong recorded the events leading up to her young husband’s death and the political drama that impacted her own family after the scandal, in an attempt to inform her family and later kings of what really happened. An excellent English translation of Hanjungnok was published early on, introducing the book to a wider global audience. As with the story of Queen Inhyeon, the events described in this memoir have also been reinterpreted in film and television versions for a wider audience. Translated by Amber Hyun Jung Kim Jung Byung-Sul Professor of Korean Literature Seoul National University
by Jung Byung-Sul
Korean Garden Culture
Aesthetics of the Korean Garden Traditional Korean gardens were constructed smaller than those in China or Japan. The basic principle of garden making was to follow the lay of the land. Koreans tried to minimize artificiality and reveal the natural beauty through their designs. In a letter to a friend, the renowned writer Bak Jiwon (1737–1805) compares ideal gardens to the calligraphic works of Wang Xizhi (321–361; alt. 303–36). He states, “One should lay out his garden with trees and flowers in as refined a manner as that used by Wang Xizhi to write characters.” In his cursive calligraphic works, the size of each character and the spacing between them were uneven yet still proper. Likewise, trees should not be planted in a uniform pattern but spontaneously. Yi Sibaek (1581–1660) was a state councilor who served King Hyojong (r. 1649–1659). He had in his garden a rare peony, which was imported from Luoyang, a city in China famous for its peonies. When the King sent a man to get the plant for the royal garden, Yi put on his official attire and stepped out into his garden. He dug out the plant and broke its stems. He said, “When the country is in a precarious situation, how could the king seek a flower, but not a wise official? I could not stand myself if I were to try and win the king’s favor with this flower, and in so doing drive the country to ruin.” Having heard of this, the king repented. During the early to middle period of the Joseon Dynasty (1392–1910), people did not take much interest in gardening or floriculture as a hobby due to the Confucian notion that seeking amusement in things would be harmful for achieving one’s moral development. Even if they planted flowers in gardens, they preferred flowers that were symbolic of Confucian virtues, such as the “Four Gentlemen,” i.e., flowering plums, orchids, chrysanthemums, and bamboos. This trend did not change until the middle of the eighteenth century when gardening enjoyed unprecedented popularity. Centered around the capital (modern Seoul), floriculture and gardening suddenly became popular. Jeong Yakyong (1762–1836), a leading figure of Silhak, often emphasized the importance of gardens and gardening. He commented that one should contribute to the family livelihood by cultivating fruit trees and specialty crops while at the same time following the taste for a gentleman’s life by growing flowers in a garden. He once wrote to a disciple, “A family would thrive if they dug up their rice field to make a lotus pond. A family would struggle to make ends meet if they turned their lotus pond into a rice field.” What he meant was that cultivating moral virtues through floricultural activities was more important than profit seeking. In another essay, he wrote, “Living deep in a mountain valley with nothing to do, I observe that flowers bloom and wither. This is enough to gain an insight into the world.” For him, floriculture was about finding the principle of life. He also expounded on growing peonies during his exile. While observing the flowers, a symbol of wealth and fame, he compared its life cycle to that of a government official. Instead of envying someone in high career, he pondered the transience of worldly success, and consoled himself in his exile. This time gardening was a source of energy that lifted him up in a difficult situation and showed him the significance of life. Because of this, he grew flowers wherever he stayed, trying to find the deepest meaning of life hidden within them. In his poems, he expressed the enlightenment he received from nature. The chrysanthemum was his most beloved flower. He grew eighteen varieties of them in pots in his yard. When the flowers were in bloom, he invited friends to come and appreciate them. The highlight of the gathering was watching the play of shadows the flowers threw at night. He and his friends would place potted chrysanthemums, one by one, on a table in front of a blank wall and from various distances and angles directed light from their lanterns at them to enjoy the changing shadows. This pastime was widely known as a way to appreciate exquisite scenes. He and his guests would gather to compose and recite poems about flowers. Moreover, whenever they heard there were beautiful blooms in someone’s garden, they would rush to look at them and hold a poetry gathering. Painting of Flower and Vessel Jo Seokjin (1853–1920) © Jeonju National Museum Horticultural Craze in the Eighteenth Century Gardening came into vogue in the eighteenth century and was a cultural phenomenon that defined the taste of the literati of the time. They were mad about flowers, each vying to plant the most spectacular flowers in his garden. They also collected books about floriculture. This craze was a leisure activity they could share with one another. Amateur florists in the urban area soon became professional, and numerous botanical books were published. This was an enthusiastic and even obsessive pastime. This craze, in a sense, can be understood as the effort of urban elites to pursue well-being and to improve their quality of life. This pursuit spurred the emergence of flower enthusiasts and botanical literature. Both had also existed in the earlier Joseon period. Kang Huian (1418–1464), for example, wrote Yanghwa sorok (A little treatise on floriculture), Korea’s first botanical treatise, and the eminent scholar Yi Hwang (1501–1570) composed numerous poems on flowering plums. But the situation in the late Joseon was a dramatic departure from what had come before. Many texts written during this period and afterwards focused on the delight literati took in elaborate parties organized for the appreciation of exotic flowers. The popularity of floriculture and gardening suddenly boomed among literati in the metropolitan area in the middle of the eighteenth century. If someone had neither potted flowers nor a garden, he was likely to be written off as “a person lacking in taste and style.” This change is aligned with the development of urban culture. Residents in the city were eager to improve their quality of life and get close to nature. Yu Bak (1730–1787), a connoisseur of flowers, wrote Hwaam surok (Essays from the floral hermitage). He built a house in rural Hwanghae Province and planted a variety of flowers in his garden, which he called the “Kingdom of Fragrance.” It was so named because it had an assortment of flowers blooming in turn all year round. Among the essays in his book was one titled “The nine ranks of flowering plants,” in which he classified flowers into nine ranks and listed five select species in each rank along with explanations about the characteristics, cultivation methods, and varieties of those flowers. So much did he love flowers that whenever foreign ships arrived, he would run to the local port to see if he could obtain exotic flowers. Fishermen in his neighborhood, if they chanced to find interesting flowers during their voyages, would bring them back for him. Sometimes Yu asked travelers journeying to China to bring back flowers. Many accounts of Yu’s life and his book gives a glimpse into the garden culture of contemporary literati. Yi Ok (1760–1815) also wrote an important book entitled Baekunpil (The white cloud brush) that shows the intellectual trends among the elites of the time. It contains many accounts about the flower trade, chrysanthemum varieties, and cultivation techniques. Kim Deokhyeong, a writer and painter of the eighteenth century, was more than a flower lover—he was besotted with them. Whenever he had free time, he would rush to a garden to paint them. He compiled his paintings into an album titled Baekhwabo (A painting catalog of various flowers). His contemporaries universally recognized the artistry of his paintings and were eager to obtain them for their own collections. Yi Deokmu (1741–1793), a literatus, was famous for his flowering plums made of wax and wrote a handbook on how to craft wax flowers. This was a rare instance because it was usually unacceptable for an elite man to write about such a petty matter. Yet Yi’s work was received with fanfare by Bak Jiwon and other peers. Many texts attest to the great zeal these elites had for gardening, which was more than a simple pastime. Their connoisseurship pushed the development of floral culture which permeated literati society in Joseon during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Garden Culture and Design in Social Context The names of numerous gardens can be found in the writings of eighteenth century literati. Some gardens bore the owner’s family name such as Jo’s Garden, Oh’s Garden, and Yi’s Garden. Others were named after notable plants in the garden, for example: Flowering Plum and Bamboo Garden, Orchid Garden, Seven Pine Garden, and White Pomegranate Garden. In some cases, people named their garden according to its location or the intentions behind making the garden. This was a new phenomenon and indicates the surge of interest in gardening. In their writings, the literati provided vivid descriptions of gardens, enabling us to reconstruct the gardening and floricultural activities of the time. If someone could not afford a garden, he would create a garden in his mind and pen a short prose piece about it. Yu Gyeongjong (1714–1784) wrote “Uiwonji” (Record on a garden in my heart), in which he describes the garden he envisioned. There, he would plant various trees, flowers, and vegetables. In the morning he would water them and in the evening he would weed the cucumber patch. This was his way of expressing his aspirations to live such a life. Yu was not alone; many would reveal their yearning in writings about their imaginary gardens. The demand for plants experienced an explosive growth in tandem with the sudden and increasing interest in floriculture. The growing trade caused the horticultural market to expand and created a new vocation of flower-potting. Flower merchants operated their businesses in the southern and northern areas of the capital. They supplied a range of flowers and trees to meet seasonal demands. Moreover, in autumn, gardenias, pomegranates, camellias, and other flowers were transported from the southern provinces. Alongside the grain tax, they were carried to the capital area by ship and then sold to rich urban residents. Not a small number of professional florists were retired clerks. The pleasure of gardening landed them new jobs running nurseries in the northern area of the capital, mainly at the foot of Mt. Inwang and in such districts as Nugakdong, Dohwadong, and Cheongpunggye. They grew and sold flowering plums grafted to odd-shaped trees, potted chrysanthemums blossoming in three colors, or pomegranates with high-hanging fruits. There was no formal flower market, but horticultural trade easily thrived. At that time, most of the houses in the capital were small and thus potted plants were popular. Horticulturalists also specialized in certain plants. For example, we know that some exclusively sold rare flowering plums, while others specialized in potted pine trees. We know all these activities in detail thanks to existing records. Street vendors would cry out that they had chrysanthemums for sale, the most popular flower at that time. New varieties were developed, which were not listed in the flower catalogs, and brought to market. An old man with the family name Kim was said to be able to control the blooming period and the blossom size, producing flowers ranging from extremely large to tiny. He could even make black blossoms and mixed-color blossoms grow on a single stem. He kept these skills a secret; no one ever learned them. Horticultural techniques developed rapidly. Seo Yugu (1764–1845) authored Imwŏn kyŏngjeji (Sixteen treatises on agriculture), the most comprehensive sourcebook series in pre-modern Korea. As a part of the series, Yewonji (Treatise on floricultural skills), he compiled the extensive floricultural knowledge of the times, encompassing a broad range of skills such as sowing, grafting, watering, raised mound planting, potting, straightening branches, and fighting pests. He also addressed issues of timing for grafting, forcing, and dyeing flowers. Seo took particular interest in cultivating trees. In his Imwon gyeongjeji (Treatise on the Management of Rural Life), the monographic work Manhakji (Treatise on late learning) is dedicated to tree cultivation. His “Jongsuga” (Song on planting a tree) also offers a detailed explanation of the methods for planting trees. Gardening was promoted in the eighteenth century more than it had ever been before. The activity was widely spread among the literati and had a great influence on society. Indulging a love of flowers and pastimes, activities which once were taboo for compromising one’s moral principles, gained great popularity and centered around the capital area. This reflects a tendency to pursue well-being intertwined with the development of urban culture in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Translated by Soyun Lee Min Jung Hanyang University
by Min Jung
Nujeong: Towers and Pavilions
Painting of Segeomjeong Pavilion Yu Suk (1827–1873) © National Museum of Korea The Construction of Nujeong and the Scholar-officials in the Joseon Dynasty People of Korea today would probably find the word nujeong unfamiliar; but they would understand the words nugak (tower) and jeongja (pavilion) without difficulty. Nujeong is a word composed of the first letters of those two words. During the five hundred years of the Joseon Dynasty, towers and pavilions were built nationwide wherever there were beautiful mountains and clean water; many remain local attractions to this day. Even today, neighborhood parks are equipped with little pavilions, commonly called palgakjeong (octagonal pavilion) or noinjeong (pavilion for the elderly) where people can sit and rest while out on a walk. Towers are larger in scale than pavilions, elevated so that the floor, laid out with wood, stands one or more stories high above the ground. Walls and doors are installed on occasion to create room-like space, but mostly, towers consist of pillars and a roof, so that people can look out over the landscape from the inside. Octagonal pavilions have roofs that are octagonal in shape, generally with a square or rectangular plane and in some special cases with a hexagonal or octagonal, and sometimes even a cross or fan-shaped plane. Although the Joseon Dynasty is spoken of in particular here as the era in which towers and pavilions were built, such structures existed even in the days of the three Han states, dating back two thousand years. Their number, however, wasn’t sufficient to form a culture until the Goryeo Dynasty; hence, the focus on the Joseon Dynasty, when the construction and use of towers and pavilions saw an explosive increase. While Buddhism constituted the main axis of culture until the Goryeo Dynasty, Confucian ideas formed the basis of the principles for running a society during the Joseon Dynasty, with sadaebu as the main axis of power. The word sadaebu refers to scholars—sa—who had yet to take up a position as a government official, or who had resigned from government post, and officials—daebu—who were in charge of government administration. These scholar-officials were intellectuals who had mastered Chinese classics, men of letters, as well as government officials. Brought together by the philosophy of Confucianism and connected through academic and regional ties, they developed a society and culture of their own. Towers and pavilions were the places of their gathering. They served as venues for literary gatherings, where the men recited poetry; as places for conducting administration as well as holding banquets; and as command posts with a view from on high during war emergencies. But above all, they were places of gathering and entertainment, for an overall enjoyment of literature and the arts. Regional geography books, including the sixteenth century cultural geography book, Augmented Survey of the Geography of Korea (1530), mention towers and pavilions along with public offices while discussing the natural characteristics of a region, as well as the people, family names, and regional products. The number of towers and pavilions noted in these books comes to about eight hundred. Studies on towers and pavilions indicate that the late sixteenth and seventeenth centuries saw the greatest increase in their number, with nationwide construction but mostly in the Gyeongsang and Jeolla provinces. The fact that the regional base of the scholar-officials was in these two provinces can be seen in the number of towers and pavilions constructed there. It is understood that the foundation of a society centered around scholar-officials was laid out through the fifteenth century after the establishment of the Joseon Dynasty in 1392, based on which the culture of scholar-officials, centering around towers and pavilions, flourished in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Just as European salon culture blossomed during the eighteenth century, the tower-and-pavilion culture came into bloom in fifteenth century Joseon. The Site of Nujeong Culture That Sang of the Wind and the Moon I devoted ten years to building my humble abode of three rooms One for me, one for the moon, and one for the cool wind No room for the river and the mountain—I shall enjoy them as they are The above is the second stanza of the three-stanza poem, “The Song of Myeon-ang-jeong,” about the Myeon-ang-jeong Pavilion in Damyang, South Jeolla Province. The pavilion was built by Song Sun (1493–1582), a military official of the early Joseon period, who returned home after leaving his government post the year he turned forty-one. The poem is a major work representing the Korean nujeong culture, revealing its essence. In the first line of the poem, the author states that the pavilion took ten years to complete—he must have put a lot of thought and effort into the process, including finding a site for the building and purchasing the wood. He calls the pavilion his “humble abode,” the original Korean word choryeo meaning a hut made of straw and weeds. The word gan in the original phrase, choryeo sam-gan (three-roomed hut) is a unit that measures the size of a building. It refers to the space between two pillars, about two meters wide. The phrase sam-gan indicates that the frontal view of the pavilion shows four pillars, and a width of about six meters. The owner of the pavilion, however, states that he will take just one of the small pavilion’s rooms for himself, and set the other two aside for the moon and the wind, his tenants-to-be. This is witty poeticization of the nature-friendly aspect of the pavilion, whose simple pillared structure allows in the cool, fresh wind and the bright moon. Song Sun finishes the stanza with the playful words that he will enjoy the river that flows in front of the pavilion and the mountains surrounding it as they naturally are, for there is no room for them in the pavilion. Through such simple yet affectionate personification, the author describes the Myeon-ang-jeong Pavilion as a part of the natural landscape; then he slips himself into the poem as well, as the owner who enjoys the harmony of it all. In that respect, he has demonstrated the meaning of the phrase, “borrowed scenery,” used in explaining the aesthetics of Korean architecture. The phrase is used to describe how Korean architecture exists as a part of the surrounding landscape. Unlike Chinese and Japanese gardens, in which the landscape is artificially recreated by men, Korean architecture is designed so that a river flows in front of it and a mountain stands behind like a folding screen, so as to make the surrounding nature seem a part of the garden itself. Such building planning is commonly called bae-san-im-su (mountain in the back and a river in the front). Song Sun’s Myeon-ang-jeong Pavilion, too, is located in a spot where the surrounding mountains and river feel like a part of the garden, with the moonlight and the wind finding their way into the pavilion. It seems that there is no work that better captures the characteristics and culture of Korean towers and pavilions. Song Sun also penned the following poem using Chinese characters. Many a scenic spot lies in the southern province— Everywhere I go stands a pavilion with beautiful scenery. I live a life of leisure in the village of Gichon, And you reside in Seongsan. Our families have been friends for generations And we come and go like a family. I may stop by on a horse any day So do not bolt up the pine wood door. Sigyeongjeong and Hwanbyeokdang The two pavilions are like brothers now. The streams and mountains are bright as silk And houses, tile-roofed and thatch-roofed, are scattered like stars. Together we enjoy the beauties of nature As they do in the gardens of all the houses. But one thing saddens me—I miss the old man at Soswaewon For he lies in a grave covered with withered grass. This poem was written by Song Sun for Sigyeongjeong, a pavilion that belonged to Seohadang Kim Seong-won (1525–1597). The southern province spoken of in the poem refers to Jeolla Province. Song depicts the nujeong culture of sixteenth century Korea, saying that there are pavilions in all the beautiful landscapes of Jeolla Province. Sigyeongjeong, Hwanbyeokdang, and Soswaewon, which appear in the poem, are located at the foot of Mudeung Mountain to the east of Gwangju, Jeolla Province; Myeon-ang-jeong stands about twelve kilometers away to the north. Sigyeongjeong was built by Kim Seong-won in 1560 for Seokcheon Im Eok-ryeong (1496–1568), his father-in-law. It is told in The Chronicle of Sigyeongjeong that Kim Seong-won asked Im Eok-ryeong to come up with a name for the pavilion, which he did based on a story in the Book of Zhuangzi that tells of a man who was afraid of his own shadow and wanted to run from it, and whose wish came true when he entered the shade of a tree, upon which his shadow disappeared. The word sigyeongjeong means a pavilion where even a shadow stops for a rest. Hwanbyeokdang is a pavilion built by Kim Yunje (1501–1572). As the story goes, Kim, while taking a nap at the pavilion, had a dream about a dragon ascending to heaven from the stream in front of the pavilion; upon waking he went down to the stream and found a tall and handsome boy standing there, for whom he arranged a marriage with his granddaughter. The boy was Songgang Jeong Cheol (1536–1593), who served as the first vice-premier. Lastly, Soswaewon was a garden created by Yang Sanbo (1503–1557), who decided to live a secluded life when his teacher Jo Gwangjo (1482–1519) was poisoned to death in the literary purge called Gimyo sahwa. The garden, as well as the pavilions within, such as Jewoldang and Gwangpung-gak, demonstrates an aspect of the Korean garden and pavilion culture. Just as Song Sun wrote poems about his pavilion and displayed his literary talent through the neighboring Sigyeongjeong, the scholar-officials of the Joseon Dynasty left behind records on the history of pavilions. Haseo Kim Inhu (1510–1560) wrote The Thirty Views of Myeon-ang-jeong and The Forty-eight Views of Soswaewon, and Jeong Cheol wrote The Eighteen Views of Sigyeongjeong, conveying their affection for the pavilions belonging to prominent figures of Jeolla Province. Jeong Cheol also wrote The Song of Seongsan, which sings of the beauties of the four seasons of Seohadang and Sigyeongjeong, comparing them to paradise and lands of enchantment; the nujeong culture, which flourished through literary men among the scholar-officials, is once again confirmed in the poem. Bubyeokru Pavilion, Banquet Hosted by the Governor of Pyeongan Province Gim Hongdo (1745–1806) © National Museum of Korea Stories Related to the Four Major Pavilions of Korea Pavilions, each consisting simply of a wooden floor and a roof, were built near mountains and rivers for people to stop and take a little rest; but with time, they evolved into forums for meetings and poetry readings held by the literary intellectuals of the Joseon Dynasty. Some of the poems written in Chinese characters, three-stanza poems, lyrics, and records composed in these pavilions were framed and hung there and remain as works of art. The more number of works by prominent figures hung in a pavilion, the more renowned the pavilion became. Such are the three major pavilions of Korea: Bubyeokru of Pyeongyang, Chokseokru of Jinju, and Yeongnamru of Milyang. The two pavilions of South Gyeongsang Province are of considerable size, with a frontal width of five gan, and side width of four. A thousand poems and prose have been written on each, which speaks of their fame. In recent years, Gwanghallu of Namwon is counted (instead of Bubyeokru, which sadly can’t be visited because of its location in North Korea) as one of the three major pavilions. These pavilions, however, are famous not only for their long history, great scale, beautiful paintwork, and the poetry and prose written about them. Each pavilion comes with a beautiful story about women of integrity that adds color to them. During the Japanese Invasion of Korea, Gye Wol Hyang of Bubyeokru aided in the beheading of the enemy commander; Nongae of Chokseokru cast herself into the river with the enemy commander in her arms, as a result of which both died. The two, called “honorable gisaeng,” added to the reputation of Bubyeokru and Chokseokru. Likewise, Arang of Yeongnamru faced death in order to maintain her chastity; and Chunhyang of Gwanghallu, despite her status as a gisaeng, consummated her love with Yi Mongryong, the son of the district magistrate. This Chunhyang is the heroine of The Tale of Chunhyang, the eternal Korean classic and the quintessence of pansori, or Korean opera. It was at Gwanghallu that Chunhyang and Yi Mongryong had their first encounter, as depicted in the following passage. Young Master Yi rushes to Gwanghallu on his donkey, and upon arrival he beholds a splendid house of beautiful paintwork with intricately patterned doors. He gracefully dismounts the donkey, steps onto the staircase, and looks all around . . . Chunhyang, the daughter of Wolmae, a gisaeng living in the town . . .,gets on a swing and looks at the mountains and streams in the distance flaunting their spring colors; her sudden ascent and descent are like those of a young swallow flying in the spring sky, or of the Vega star crossing the Ojak Bridge on the seventh day of the seventh month . . .; Young Master Yi, sitting high on Gwanghallu, looks at the mountains and streams to his left and right . . ., then at the greenery in the mountain in front of the pavilion; ecstatic in body and mind, he stares at the movements of the red and yellow sun through the leaves, his shoulders moving up and down and his hand above his eyes. This is the scene in which Yi Mongryong, who has come to Namwon, the place of his father’s new post—and who has abandoned his studies to enjoy the spectacular view at Gwanghallu with his servant—becomes besotted with the beauty of Chunhyang on a swing. After Yi returns to Hanyang with his father who has served his full term in office, the new magistrate demands that Chunhyang become his mistress; realizing her love for Yi, Chunhyang resists the magistrate in order to defend her love. This is a beautiful love story of two people who met at Gwanghallu and safeguarded their love for each other despite trials. Im Kwon-taek, a major Korean film director, adapted the tale into the movie Chunhyang (2000). An interesting point of fact is that the movie is a musical of sorts based on The Song of Chunhyang, a work performed by the master pansori singer, Cho Sang Hyun; in the movie, the acting corresponds to the songs. The movie allows the audience to enjoy on screen the love story of Yi Mongryong and Chunhyang along with the pansori, The Song of Chunhyang, as well as the beautiful scenery of Gwanghallu and a vivid look into the everyday life of the people of old Korea. Chongseokjeong Pavillion, Album of Mount Geumgang in the Autumn of the Year of Sinmyo Jeong Seon (1676–1759) © National Museum of Korea The Joseon Dynasty and the Pavilions of Hanyang Pavilions were cultural and entertainment venues for scholar-officials, as well as a backdrop for everyday gatherings of ordinary people. Perhaps the love of the people for pavilions lay in their location, where rivers and mountains meet. Hangyang, the name of Joseon’s capital, means “a land north of the Han River,” the river that served as the lifeline of the people. Naturally, pavilions were established in scenic spots. A classic example is Apgujeong, a pavilion located in present-day Apgujeong-dong in Seoul, which belonged to Han Myeonghoe (1415–1487) who had control of the regime in the early Joseon Dynasty; another is Dokseodang, a pavilion on a hill north of the present-day Hannam Bridge, which allowed young civil officials to take a leave to concentrate on their studies; yet another, Huiujeong, which belonged to Prince Hyoryeong (1396–1486), the second son of King Taejong, on a hill north of the Yanghwa Bridge. Huiujeong means “pavilion of joyful rain,” and the following story is told in The Chronicle of Huiujeong, written by Chunjeong Byeon Gyeryang (1369–1430) at the request of Prince Hyoryeong: His Highness came out early to oversee the farm work, and stopped by at this pavilion and bestowed upon me liquor, food, and a saddled horse. Grain seeds were being sown at the time, but there wasn’t sufficient rain. As we became intoxicated with liquor, it began to rain all day, and His Highness named the pavilion “the pavilion of joyful rain.” Deeply moved, I had the Vice Chancellor of Royal College write the word “Huiujeong” in large letters and hang it on the wall, to honor the deed of His Highness; it is my wish that you set this down to record. The king who bestowed the name upon the pavilion was King Sejong, hailed as a good and wise king. This anecdote conveys the genuine joy of the king, who must have wished for rain as the ruler of Joseon, an agricultural society. The feelings of a benevolent ruler who truly cared for his people are fully conveyed. As told in the anecdote, kings came to the pavilion to inspect the administration of agricultural work, or the training of the naval forces that took place in the Han River. Byeon Gyeryang, who was asked to keep a record of the history of Huiujeong Pavilion, wrote the following poem near the end of his life, through which the warm sentiments generated by Korean pavilions can be appreciated. The new pavilion that stands there aloft Looks as though it will fly away like a phoenix. Who has raised it up? The benevolent Prince Hyoryeong. The king went out to the western outskirts, Neither for pleasure nor hunting. Concerned he was about drought in the fields, As the people sowed seeds of grain. The king was sitting in the pavilion When suddenly the rain came pouring down. The king and the prince held a banquet With drums beating loud and clear. On the pavilion the king bestowed a name, An honor unprecedented. Prince Hyoryeong bowed his head, Accepting the kindness of the revered king; The prince again bowed his head, Praying for the king’s longevity. The prince wished that a record be kept For the perpetuation of the tale; I bowed and did as commanded, Ahead of many scholars. I looked to the distance at Hwaak Mountain And pictured these words on its stone wall. This tribute, carved in stone, Will keep the tale alive for myriad years. Translated by Jung Yewon Shin Sang-Phil Pusan National University
by Shin Sang-Phil
Gagaek: The Idols of Premodern Korea
Singer’s Pansori by Kim Jun-geun Genre painting from the Joseon period depicting a gagaek singing accompanied by a gosu (drummer) Image © Korean Christian Museum at Soongsil University The world’s eyes are on K-pop idols today. Fueled by Hallyu or the Korean wave, K-pop started gaining popularity all over the world sometime around 2010. BoA was the first Korean singer to be listed on the Billboard 200 in 2009, followed by BIGBANG and G-Dragon in 2012. In 2018, BTS topped the chart for the first time in K-pop history. Wonder Girls were the first K-pop group to enter the Billboard Hot 100 chart in 2009, and Psy peaked at number two on the chart in 2012 with “Gangnam Style” and stayed there for seven consecutive weeks. CL and BTS put their names on the chart later, and in August 2020, BTS reached number one. The predecessors of today’s K-pop idols were the gagaek, or singers, of the late Joseon period. The gagaek who appeared in Joseon society around the time of King Sukjong in the late seventeenth century were professional or semi-professional yein (entertainers) who specialized in singing, and their status was mainly middle-class. Does that mean there were no singers before then? Not exactly. Regardless of the era, there were always people who were good at singing. But even if there were talented singers, they were not called by the name gagaek until the late Joseon period. 1. Who Sang When There Were No Gagaek? Since its founding, the Joseon Dynasty tried to realize a politics of ye-ak that would bring about harmony while abiding by its own code of ethics. Ye meant “order” and ak stood for “harmony.” Ye emphasized a distinction between classes and called for strict order between occupations, while ak contributed to maintaining harmonious relationships, which could otherwise become easily neglected because of ye. This was why the state controlled music in the Joseon Dynasty, to which end it established the Jangakwon (Bureau of Music). Official music used for the state or the royal court was played by akgong and aksaeng musicians of the Jangakwon, and songs were sung by ginyeo (female entertainers) or gadong (boy singers). They were state-appointed singers, so to speak, and they mainly performed court music at the royal court. Ginyeo What about songs that sadaebu (scholar-bureaucrats) enjoyed at poetry gatherings, banquets, pungryu (arts appreciation) gatherings, and various feasts? In most cases, gwangi (women in charge of singing and dancing and instrumental music at the court or a government office) affiliated with a local government office, were mobilized to sing. An example of this can be found in Yi Hwang’s Eobuga balmun: “Long ago, there was an old ginyeo in Andongbu, who was good at singing. My uncle Song Jae (1469–1517) summoned her to sing songs to brighten up his sixtieth birthday celebration. I was still young back then.” Ginyeo belonging to a local government office were called in to sing for various kinds of meetings that sadaebu held. Besides ginyeo, affluent sadaebu households had gabi (a private maid talented at singing) to entertain their guests. Records show that Nongam Yi Hyeon-bo and Jiam Yun Yi-hu, the grandson of Gosan Yun Seon-do, employed gabi. If you thought about it in today’s terms, those families had a singer exclusively working for them. Seongaja At times, sadaebu scholar-officials with a flair for singing themselves sang songs at pungryu gatherings. These sadaebu were called seongaja. Nogyeo Bak In-ro who composed a considerable number of mid-Joseon-period sijo and gasa poems was one such seongaja. Earlier than that, at the end of the Goryeo Dynasty and in the early years of the Joseon Dynasty, there was another sadaebu seongaja named Gong Bu (1352–1416). He passed the civil service examination during the Goryeo Dynasty and went into government service in the Joseon Dynasty as well. He visited China six times in his official capacity as seojanggwan (censor-secretary). As his pen name Eochon (meaning “fishing village”) testifies, even while serving as a government official, Gong Bu yearned for the life of fishermen who were not swayed by material desires. He was said to be good at singing “Eobuga.” Meanwhile, Heo Gyun’s Seongongjisorok recounts an episode from the life of scholar Yi Eon-bang who was a talented singer during the reign of King Myeongjong. According to the anecdote, the melody of Yi’s singing was clear and high and no one could match him in singing. People who listened to his song were said to be so moved that they shed tears. When he visited Pyeongyang, the governor had two-hundred ginyeo from the gyobang training halls sit in a row along the street and sing songs in turn. Yi Eong-bang responded to each song with a song of his own, and all their voices were harmonious and smooth. On hearing of him, Hwang Jini, a renowned gisaeng of Songdo, paid him a visit. Yi posed as his younger brother, saying, “My brother is not home, but I am a pretty good singer myself.” Then he performed a song. Hwang Jini immediately realized that he was Yi Eon-bang, and said in admiration that he had an incomparable voice that no gifted singer in China could match. Hwang Jini was able to recognize his talent as she herself was an incredible singer. 2. Emergence of the Gagaek There were several socio-historical prerequisites for the emergence of gagaek. First, there had to be outstanding musicians. Songs require instrumental accompaniment, so naturally there had to be excellent instrumentalists. As mentioned above, until the early Joseon period, all professional musicians were affiliated with the Jangakwon state institution and they developed their skills through intensive training. But they were poorly treated and couldn’t pursue their own individual music because they were only allowed to play selected songs for ceremonies or rites. After Imjinwaeran (Japanese invasion in 1592) and Byeongjahoran (Manchu invasion in 1636), the aksa (musicians) of Jangakwon continued their musical activities outside the court and among the public. Thus, outstanding musicians came to be active both at the court and in the private sector . Second, there had to be a popular artistic environment and people who consumed music. In the late Joseon Dynasty, not only did a commodity-money economy develop but Joseon rapidly urbanized around the capital of Hanyang. Under these circumstances, songs as works of art were put into circulation as commodities. Affluent jungin (middle class), and gyeongajeon (clerks in the capital) in particular, emerged as consumers of art, and some yangban who had excellent artistic taste became patrons of artists. Gagaek emerged in this social environment. They were responsible for the creation of the pungryubang, or performance rooms, where music lovers gathered to enjoy songs and music. Its members were gagaek and aksa. Gagaek were professional singers who were proficient in vocal music such as gagok, gasa, and sijo. On the other hand, geomungo (Korean plucked zither) players who played accompaniment to gagok, or instrumental pieces such as the Korean court music repertoire Yeongsan hoesang were called geumgaek. These gagaek and aksa led the culture of pungryubang performance rooms. What were the life and artistic activities of gagaek like? Fortunately, biographies that record the lives of some gagaek have survived. The following is an excerpt from Noraeggun Songsilsoljeon (A story of singer Song Sil-sol) written by Yi Ok, a writer during the era of King Jeongjo, which summarizes the life of gagaek Song Sil-sol. Song Sil-sol was a Seoul gagaek who got his name from a song called “Silsolgok” (Song of a cricket) that he sang extremely well. When he was young, he used to practice singing next to a roaring waterfall. After a year, the sound of the waterfall couldn’t drown out the sound of his singing. After he spent a year atop Mount Bugaksan, the sound of the whirlwind could not disturb his song. If he sang in a room, the sound vibrated along the crossbeams; if he sang in the mountains, it reverberated amongst the clouds. His voice harmonized with every instrument. When he sang in front of a crowd, the audience stared into space, unable to make out who the gagaek was. From the above passage, we can see that Song Sil-sol underwent strenuous training to become a professional gagaek. When his singing defeated the sounds of waterfalls and whirlwinds, he became a true gagaek. Once established as a gagaek, he pursued his own creative form of singing. When singing “Chuiseunggok” or “Hwanggyeosa,” he did not sing along with the original music score; instead he freely improvised. He is said to have even wailed at a wake in the form of a song. All this shows that he pursued a relentless and infinitely free artistic vision. Next is “Songosa” from Chujaejip by poet Jo Su-sam: Son the Blind had no talent in fortune-telling, but he was good at singing gagok. He was highly proficient in ujo (the highest note of the Korean pentatonic scale), gyemyeonjo (A-minor), rhythm, pitch, and the 24 seong (notes). Every day he sat in the street and sang in both loud and thin voices. And when he reached the climax, the audience surrounded him like a wall and the coins they threw at him showered down like rain. He would then swipe them up and when he figured he had collected around 100 jeon, he would stand up, saying, “This will be enough for me to get drunk.” The Joseon government allowed for the blind to tell fortunes as a form of welfare. But Son the Blind preferred singing to fortunetelling and became a professional gagaek. It seems that he mostly sang songs on the street, which can be likened to busking today. Whenever he sang, the audience “surrounded him like a wall and the coins they threw at him showered down like rain.” This proves how popular he was and how songs were sold to the public as commodities. 3. Noted Gagaek from the Late Joseon Period and their Songs Gagaek have a bigger role in the history of Korean literature than just professional singers. They not only composed remarkable songs but also published gajip, which were compilations of sijo that had been passed down for generations. They realized the precious value of Korean songs and kept records of them out of concern that they might be lost if they were only passed down orally. As a result, excellent gajip such as Cheongguyeongeon, Haedong gayo, and Gagokwollyu were created. Kim Cheon-taek Kim Cheon-taek who compiled Cheonguyeongeon (the original version) was a pogyo constable during the reign of King Sukjong. Jeochon Yi Jeong-seob said this of Kim in his Choengguyeongeon hubal: “Kim Cheon-taek is a man of good character and knowledgeable and he memorized 300 works from the Sigyeong [The book of odes] with ease, so he is not just a singer.” Judging from this, not only was Kim Cheon-taek a gifted singer but he also had a scholarly temperament along with great knowledge. Jeong Yun-gyeong praised Kim in Cheongguyeongeon huseo: “Kim Cheon-taek makes the entire kingdom cry with his singing. He has a precise sense of rhythm and has cultivated literary accomplishments.” The following is a sijo composed by Kim Cheon-taek: White seagull, let me ask you something. Don’t be alarmed. Where are all the famed places, splendid lands that have been abandoned? If you tell me in detail, we can go and spend time together there. This sijo, which takes the form of a conversation with a white seagull, has a nature-friendly theme. The narrator asks the seagull where the wonderful natural places are, the beautiful places that have been abandoned. These places are in clear contrast to political spaces that covet riches and honors. He says he will live amidst the beauty of nature together with the seagull if it tells him where the places are located. His desire is similar to what sadaebu scholar-officials aimed to achieve. That is, to restrain the desire for a government post and to lead a pure and innocent life by becoming one with nature. However, if we look at it differently, we can discover another layer of meaning of Kim’s identity. Because the chances of status advancement were limited for a member of the jungin middle-class, Kim rather resignedly chooses to live in nature. Kim Su-jang If Kim Cheon-taek’s writing contained a conflict of social status as well as a sadaebu orientation, then Kim Su-jang—another gagaek who also came from the middle class, worked as a military clerk at the Ministry of Military Affairs, and compiled Haedong gayo—was straightforward and broad-minded. Regarding Kim Su-jang, who is believed to have been active a generation after Kim Cheon-taek, Jang Bok-so said this in Haedong gayo huseo: “He truly is a heroic man of virtue in this world full of woes and cares. He has inherited the tradition of singing and his mind and spirt are uncorrupted.” He was heroic, manly, and also appreciated the arts at the same time. Kim Su-jang was a gagaek who strived only for singing, and his performances were more urbanized and entertaining than that of Kim Cheon-taek. Here is a piece of saseol sijo (long-form narrative sijo) that he wrote: Do you not know who I am, the Jeolchungjanggun (Jeong-3-pum military official) Yongyangwi (a military division) Buhogun (Fourth Deputy Commander)? I might be old, but I never was one to come second to anybody in singing, dancing, and going on trips across the south and the north of Hangang (Han River). There is no place for pungryu with blossoming flowers in the capital that I have not been to. Woman, you may underestimate me, but spend a night with me and you will know I am a man among men. This is a saseol sijo in which the narrator, Kim Su-jang, delivers a message to a ginyeo. It seems that a ginyeo has scorned Kim for being old. But this doesn’t dent Kim’s confidence. He says he might be old, but he is still confident of his singing and dancing, and that he has been to every remarkable place for pungryu in the vicinity of the capital of Hanyang. He assures her that if any woman spent a night with him, she would appreciate his true worth as a man of arts. If Kim Cheon-taek hovered on the edge of sadaebu culture, Kim Su-jang pioneered his own world as a jungin (upper middle-class) and an artist. Despite his meager living, he built Nogajae in Hwagae-dong, Seoul at the age of seventy-one, and oversaw Nagajae gadan, an organization of gagaek. As the center of the music scene at that time, the organization was considered to have contributed to the literary development of sijo and gagokchang. An Min-yeong An Min-yeong who compiled Gagokwonryu was one of the representative nineteenth-century gagaek, along with Bak Hyo-gwan, his mentor. An learned how to sing from Bak and beautifully refined his lyrics. He also built relationships with the royal family including the Daewongun (1820–1898), and was a patron of numerous gisaeng. Geumokchongbu (1885), An’s personal anthology, confirms that he was a man of taste who artistically interacted and had romantic liaisons with a number of ginyeo all over the country. Quite a few of An’s sijo feature ginyeo with whom he had a relationship. Don’t scold the limping donkey when I part with you For how else could I get a close look at your tearful face under the blossoms when I bid you farewell and turn away, if not for those limping steps? People are overcome with sorrow when they part with a loved one. They would do anything to delay the parting and gaze upon their beloved’s face. With this wish, the person who leaves expresses his gratitude towards the limping donkey. According to the appendix of this work, the person left behind in this song was ginyeo Hyerani. She was a renowned ginyeo in Pyongyang. She was not only beautiful, but excelled at painting, singing, and playing the geomungo. This song was composed when An left Hyerani after spending seven months with her in Pyeongyang. It delicately depicts the sorrow of their parting. The gagaek we have looked at above mostly excelled in gagokchang. One of the gagaek who had an outstanding talent for sijochang was Yi Se-chun. However, in the nineteenth century, japga (popular folk songs), which developed among the commoners, prevailed over gagokchang and sijochang with its unique lively musical sensibility and captivated people of all classes. That led to gifted singers of japga to become famous. New masterly singers emerged, such as Chu Gyo-sin, a renowned singer of Gyeonggi japga, Jo Gi-jun who excelled at 12 japga, and Bak Chun-gyeong, a farmer who developed japga further. Japga is widely considered as the actual beginning of popular music in the history of Korean music. Whereas Gagokchang had its origins in the music of sadaebu scholar-officials, Japga, which started as a music of the common people and later swept the royal court, became the music of the entire kingdom. But japga, hwimori japga in particular, had lyrics that originated from saseol sijo, so they were not completely unconnected to sijo. Considering all this, if you look at the origins of modern singers in the popular sphere, the renowned singers of japga would be their predecessors. Also, if you look at them in terms of professional singers whose livelihood was singing, gagaek would be their predecessors. Translated by June Yun Lee Hyung-dae Korea University
by Lee Hyung-dae
Nobi: Fettered for Life
Nobi Ownership Paper A sale record from the fourth month of the Year of the Rat (1780 or 1840) showing that a woman named Park Sahae, who was in dire straits after the death of her husband, sold her daughter, Ssangrye, as a nobi. Image © Woori Hangul Museum 1. Lasting Notions and Impressions of Nobi in Korean Society The word nobi is a combination of two sinographs: no meaning a male servant and bi meaning a female servant. Nobi were people who were owned by and lived in servitude to other people. This system of slavery continued in Korea from the Three Kingdoms Period to Unified Silla to Goreyo all the way to the Joseon period. Historical studies estimate that the nobi accounted for 30 percent of the Joseon population, which is no small number. This suggests that the nobi were an indispensable element in maintaining premodern Korean society. Slavery was officially abolished during the Gabo Reform (1894), which proclaimed the modernization of Joseon, but it continued to exist, in rare cases, even up to the Korean War (1950–1953). The nobi are similar to slaves, one can say, as both were subordinate to their master. But given that the nobi were allowed to have their own families and personal property, they differ from slaves of the ancient Roman Empire. Also, the nobi are often considered equivalent to the serfs of medieval Europe in that both were mostly engaged in farming. Strictly speaking, however, they are different as the nobi were not entitled to land ownership. Nobi were similar or different to slaves or serfs depending on the situation of the period in which they existed. And here we have another category to consider: meoseum (farmhand), who were often mistaken for nobi as they, too, served their master providing labor. Called gohan, or gogong (paid worker), they were, in fact, a kind of employed worker who received annual payment called saegyeong. Unlike the nobi, they were able to choose their masters and enjoyed more freedom than nobi. After the nobi system was abolished in the late Joseon, some of them became meoseum in the early modern period. 2. Institutional Origin of the Nobi and Related Regulations As the nobi class was basically hereditary, there were economic disputes among their masters over the status of offspring between nobi and commoners. There was no problem with offspring whose parents were both nobi, but when either of them was a commoner, the offspring’s status could be different depending on which side they followed. For this type of circumstance, a law was created which favored the mother’s status as, in many cases, it was much easier to identify the mother than the father; the law resulted in an increase in their masters’ wealth when their privately-owned female nobi had children. Thus, marriage between nobi and commoners was in principle prohibited but this was not observed practically. Later, with the social class system in disarray, the owners even encouraged marriage between male commoners and female nobi. To curb the resultant increase in the nobi population, the Joseon government enforced a law requiring offspring between male commoners and female nobi to follow their father’s status. Later, a law was enacted which returned nobi who had been freed by paying a ransom or for other reasons to their former class. In the late Joseon period, the nobi laws were supported or rejected by officials belonging to different political factions. For example, when the Westerners (seoin) prevailed, nobi whose fathers were commoners obtained commoner status; on the other hand, when the Southerners (namin) gained power, the nobi-turned-commoners were forced back to their previous class status. 3. Social History of the Nobi in Korean Literature and Cinema As seen above, in premodern Korea various members of society ranging from the government to private households and individuals had an interest in the nobi. The law requiring that nobi offspring follow their mother’s class status not only had economic implications, but raised complicated questions concerning the married life of yangban who rose to high positions at the court. This is beautifully illustrated in one of the best known premodern Korean novels, Hong Gildong jeon (The Story of Hong Gildong) by Heo Gyun (1569–1618), a reformist, mid-Joseon official. Hong Gildong: The Illegitimate Son The following is a conversation between the protagonist, Gildong, and his father, Minister Hong, who rose to the position of Minister of Personnel: “All my life I have had to bear profound sorrow. Even though I was born a sturdy man inheriting Your Lordship’s abundant spirit and strength and am deeply grateful for you bringing me into this world and raising me till this day, I am not allowed to even address my father as ‘Father’ and my older brother as ‘Brother.’ How can a man in such a situation be considered a true human?” Seeing Gildong shed tears, which wet his lapel as he spoke, the minister felt pity for him, yet fearing that expressing sympathy for his plight would aggravate his discontent, he admonished him loudly. “You are hardly the only lowborn child in a high minister’s family. How can such a young boy harbor such a great resentment? If you ever speak of this matter again you will be severely punished.” At first glance, it is hard to understand why Minister Hong rebukes his son instead of consoling him even as he feels sorry for him. At that time, the ruling yangban took as their legal wives women from families of the same noble class as themselves, yet they could take concubines from among women of lower, commoner status or nobi. The difference in status between their wives and concubines raised household problems. Hong Gildong suffered discriminatory treatment in his house because his stepbrother Inhyeong was born of the legal wife, Lady Yu, while his own mother was a servant girl named Chunseom. Offspring born of concubines followed their mother’s class status: those born of commoner concubines were called seoja and those of nobi concubines, eolja; both were collectively called seoeol. Being called differently based on the social class of one’s mother was in itself an act of discrimination. Thus, the existence of nobi created various relationship issues, causing conflicts even within the family, which was the foundation of society. This discrimination against them extended out into society where, no matter how talented a low-born man was, he was denied any chance to make a name for himself. In the novel, Hong Gildong was a man of heroic character, but he was also an illegitimate son born of a female slave, so he was treated with low regard even by the household servants. Unable to endure this contempt, he eventually left home and established an ideal kingdom on an island called Yuldo. Once Yi Ik lamented the pitiful fate of lowly people, saying, “If a person becomes nobi, he is never allowed to join the commoner status again even though he is gifted with the talents of sages and worthies. How lamentable!” Jang Yeongsil: Engineer, Scientist, and Inventor Along similar lines, there was an extraordinary case in early Joseon. Jang Yeongsil (1390–1450) was a great scientist who served under the patronage of King Sejong (r. 1397–1450), known for creating the Korean alphabet, hangeul. Jang invented astronomical instruments, including armillary spheres (honseonui), a simplified type of the former (ganui), clepsydras (jagyeongnu), and sundials (angbu ilgu). Though he was a government official in royal favor, Jang was from the public nobi class as he was born to a government courtesan belonging to Dongnae Prefecture (in present-day Busan). Despite his humble origins, he was freed from his lowly status and rose to become Third Deputy Commander (daehogun) thanks to his extraordinary talents in science and a fateful encounter with a king who recognized his abilities. But cases like his were rare and his life was not fully recorded. His last appearance in history can be found in a record of his interrogation concerning his role in making a royal palanquin which accidently broke. It is not certain that such poor treatment was due to his lowly status. But what is clear is that a man of a humble origin with outstanding talent received recognition from the king; this created a delicate relationship between them worthy of public attention. This became the basis of the 2019 film Forbidden Dream (Cheonmun), directed by Hur Jin-ho and featuring veteran actors Han Suk-kyu as King Sejong and Choi Min-sik as Jang Yeongsil. Bangja: The Saucy Servant Meanwhile, private nobi were divided into two groups based on where they served: household nobi (solgeo) and outside (out-of-residence) nobi (oegeo). The former lived with their masters, providing labor, while the latter lived far away, farming their masters’ fields and usually enjoyed more freedom than solgeo. Public nobi also fell into two types: those who were selected to serve at government offices and those who paid tribute tax in cotton cloth or money instead of serving at the government offices. Whether private or public nobi, their lives were hard and they must have complained much about their masters. The following scene is from Chunhyang jeon (The Tale of Chunhyang), a classic Korean novel hailed as a masterpiece, in which the master-servant relationship is portrayed in a humorous way through a character named Bangja, a public nobi. Bangja, turning around, said, “Dear young lord, listen to me. Before going to the concubine’s house, call me by my [actual] name instead of Bangja as you and I are both in braided hair, and therefore, unmarried men.” [. . .] The young lord Yi, impatient at any delay, gave it a try but found it inappropriate; however, he could not go to Chunhyang’s house [without Bangja’s help]. Yi suggested, “Hey, Bangja, how about changing your name just for tonight?” Bangja replied, “That makes no sense. Though I am lowly, how can my name possibly be changed? If you want to go, go alone. I will see you tomorrow at the bookstore.” In this scene the young lord argues with his servant Bangja while on their way to the house of Chunhyang, whom Yi has fallen in love with after first seeing her in Namwon. Earlier, in Gwanghan Pavilion, Bangja teases his young master, saying he should be treated as an older brother as he is senior in age and now, in this scene, insists that his master call him by his actual name, “A Beoji” (meaning “father”): “A” as his surname and “Beoji” his given name. Unable to call him by this ridiculous name, his master suggests changing the name but the servant rejects that alternative, protesting that even though he is a lowly person, his name should not be changed on another’s whim. Then he leaves, telling his master that he will see him the following day. Chunhyang’s house is just around the corner but the only person who can show him the way has disappeared. The young lord Yi, has no choice but to call him “A Beoji” before arriving at Chunhyang’s house. Though a short scene, it humorously captures a rebellious aspect of the lowly class, bringing vitality and literary brilliance to the work. It also touches upon a taboo at the time, namely a servant having the upper hand over the master on account of seniority in age and going so far as to defy the authority of the ruling class. But his boldness does not lead to disciplinary action since the young lord’s desire to see his beloved is much stronger than any desire to punish his servant for hurting his dignity. Namely, the ethics of the ruling class yields to a desire for beauty, which vividly reflects the faltering social class system of late Joseon. 4. Capitalism and the New Class System Today the nobi system has disappeared as human equality has been firmly established as a basic human right in the social system, along with the existence of various institutions guaranteeing individual liberty. Despite this, such discrimination seems to remain in the public psyche. Korean people refer to the social classes according to types of spoons. Gold, silver, bronze, and earthen spoons correspond to royalty, nobility, commoners, and slaves, and they are decided not by one’s talent but by one’s parents’ wealth. Such a classification based on economic standing can be found not just in Korea but around the world, a ubiquitous phenomenon resulting from the deepening of capitalism. In this respect, a look into various aspects of the nobi system of Joseon can be a starting point for exploring premodern Korean society and can also serve as a gateway to understanding Koreans in the present and future. Translated by Jakyung Lee Shin Sang-Phil Pusan National University
by Shin Sang-Phil
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