The History of Korean Literature: From Ancient Times to the Late Nineteenth Century

Originally published in Korean as Hankuk Gojeonmunhaksa in 2006.

Copyright Š Literature Translation Institute of Korea Translation Copyright Š 2004 Michael J. Pettid & Kil Cha Edited by Steven D. Capener All rights reserved. All texts thus made available are for personal use only and may not be reproduced commercially without permission from both the original copyright holder and Literature Translation Institute of Korea.

Digitally published by the Literature Translation Institute of Korea in 2016.

LTI Korea, 112 Gil-32, Yeongdong-daero(Samseong-dong), Gangnam-gu, Seoul, 06083, Korea www.ltikorea.org eISBN 9791187947363 Cover design by David Drummond

Preface This volume presents the history of Korean literature in three major divisions, the history of poetry, novels, and literature in literary Chinese (that is, written in Sino-Korean characters, hanmun). The historical flow and branches of Korean literature are mainly intended for an audience outside of Korea desiring to learn more about premodern Korean literature. The writers have endeavored to create a work that is not overly academic and can be read easily. Moreover, we have aimed at creating a work that will allow readers to understand both fundamental and diverse aspects of Korean literary history, and have tried not to be restricted by a particular point of view.

The scope of this volume ranges from ancient mythology to works created up until the twentieth century. Genres included are ancient poetry, novels, and all varieties of works in literary Chinese. Oral literary works are not included. The three co-authors of this volume compiled and arranged the general contents of this volume with Ko Misuk concentrating on verse, Chŏng Pyŏlsŏl writing on novels, and Chŏng Min handling materials in literary Chinese. After each section was completed, the work was arranged chronologically and edited for overall consistency.

Overly technical explanations were avoided, with simpler expressions and terminologies incorporated into the text to make it more reader friendly. We chose to emphasize the historical flow of literature rather than introducing individual works. However, there are differences in the analytical method used in each section according to the particular genre. For poetry and novels, representative works are explained, while for those works in literary Chinese the works are not introduced due to the huge volume of material, instead a periodic outline is used, and the flow of special features are discussed.

The history of Korean literature spans well over a millennium based only on extant records.

Some of the small chapters in this volume have already been published as one or more research books. Consequently, it was not an easy task to summarize such a vast content into a limited number of pages. The writing styles in this work were left up to each individual writer.

As this work was written for those readers outside of Korea having an interest in the history of Korean literature, there are certain items omitted despite being quite important. However, we expect there will be no major difficulties in understanding in what way and with what kind of subjects Korean people formulated literature as well as how this is related to each particular era.

It is unfortunate to not be able to have arranged this work more systematically due to writing deadlines. We expect that this volume can be upgraded through a continuous process of supplementation.

September 2004 The authors

Introduction: The Beginnings of Korean Literary History When using the foundation of Kojosŏn (i.e., Ancient Chosŏn) based on the Tan’gun sinhwa [Myth of Tan’gun] as a starting point, Korea has a history of over 4,300 years. For this reason, Koreans often say that Korea has a history of half of ten thousand years. However, beyond this myth, there is no evidence supporting such a lengthy history. Even through historic remains, the start of Kojosŏn cannot be established at such an early time. Thus, the beginning of Korean literary history, necessarily based on extant documents, must be pushed far forward.

Following Kojosŏn, ancient countries such as Puyŏ, Koguryŏ, Paekche, and Silla were founded. Chinese characters were introduced and used on the Korean peninsula well before the first century CE. In the three countries of Koguryŏ, Paekche, and Silla, massive historical records were compiled. Although these works are no longer extant, we can see that Korean literature started before the first century CE. However, the oldest extant Korean documents are those compiled in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Based on these items, the history of Korean literature does not even extend back one thousand years. Yet, a significant amount of material from this early stage recorded in the Samguk sagi [History of the Three Kingdoms] or Samguk yusa [Memorabilia of the Three Kingdoms], is based on earlier documents, and thus the beginnings of Korean literature can be moved back at least several hundred years. Besides, based upon fragments recorded in various literary documents, the history of recorded literature extends a few centuries deeper than a single millennium. When we consider that most early literature was initially orally transmitted, the history of Korean literature can be extended back even further.

The Beginnings and Special Features of Korean History The earliest Korean history developed in and around present-day Manchuria. Throughout the years, Korea has shared a boundary with China and its history has unfolded through the processes of cooperation, restraint, and confrontation with Chinese states. Within East Asia, numerous states sharing a boundary with China lost sovereignty and were assimilated. Despite numerous wars with China, Korea was never made a part of a Chinese state.

Such a situation demonstrates that Korea has its own cultural uniqueness and awareness vis-à-vis China. While Korean states have shared boundaries with China, the Korean peninsula was also the convergence point for Chinese continental culture and Japanese oceanic culture. Today, the combined size of South and North Korean territory is about 221,000 square kilometers with a combined population of about 70 million. Of course, this cannot compare with a massive country such as China. However, when compared to Japan’s territory of 378,000 square kilometers and

population of 120 million, we can see that while Korea is not a large country, it is also not small. It is a country that has maintained and developed its unique culture and traditions between these powers.

Early Korean states, located in this nexus of continental and oceanic cultures, gradually moved their chief areas of activity to the Korean peninsula. Some of the ruling class from Koguryŏ went south and founded Paekche, while Silla and Kaya were established in parts of the peninsula located even farther to the south. Being the smallest country, Kaya was soon absorbed by Silla and Paekche, and this began the Three Kingdoms period of the three polities of Koguryŏ, Silla, and Paekche.

The Three Kingdoms period ended when Silla allied with Tang China and destroyed Paekche and Koguryŏ. Then, Silla launched a war against Tang after combining the three states in 668 since Tang wanted to take possession of the whole Korean peninsula. Silla defeated Tang and this caused the Chinese state to no longer covet the Korean peninsula. In this period, the refugees of Koguryŏ and Paekche set about to restore their countries. Consequently, in the Manchurian region, the former territory of Koguryŏ, a state called Parhae was established and ruled by refugees from Koguryŏ. Silla held domain over the area south of the Taedong River while Parhae ruled the old Koguryŏ territory, beginning the so-called age of the Northern and Southern Kingdoms. This age continued for well over two centuries until the demise of Parhae in 926 and the fall of Silla in 935.

Parhae was overrun by the Khitan people in 926, and the chaotic situation at the end of the Silla Kingdom, known as the Later Three Kingdoms period, ended with the rise of the Koryŏ dynasty. Koryŏ was founded in 918 and claimed to succeed the spirit of Koguryŏ. Koryŏ received some refuges from Parhae and expanded its territory northwards, fundamentally forming a unified state on the Korean peninsula. While the Koryŏ dynasty ruled for nearly five hundred years, at the beginning of thirteenth century it suffered attacks for some thirty years at the hand of the Mongols.

Following submission, Koryŏ was governed for over eighty years by the Yuan dynasty, the title of the Mongol dynasty in China.

Towards the end of the Yuan dynasty, the Ming dynasty rose to power in China and Koryŏ was also usurped by the coup of Yi Sŏnggye leading to the founding of the Chosŏn dynasty in 1392.

Chosŏn continued for over five hundred years, despite a series of invasions by the Japanese at the close of the sixteenth century and the Qing dynasty of China in the early seventeenth century. At the end of the nineteenth century, western culture entered the kingdom and brought about great changes.

Chosŏn was colonized by Japan in the early twentieth for nearly forty years. Soon after liberation was achieved in 1945, the Korean War broke out and continued for three long years. From this tragedy, Korean society had to restart from near extinction.

The Dearth of Ancient Documents and Survey of Extant Materials In the aspect of ancient materials, almost all of today’s works have been newly made.

Many wars in the past have destroyed much of the Korean peninsula and cultural assets were no

exception as nearly all were burned or somehow destroyed. In the case of written documents the situation is even worse. The scholar Yi Kyugyŏng (1788-?) who lived towards the end of the Chosŏn period wrote that there had been ten major incidents resulting in a dearth of historical works in Korea. Among these ten factors, seven were wars and the other three reasons were fires at royal palaces, careless treatment of books, and deterioration resulting from the poor safeguarding of the works.

As this record demonstrates, damage from wars in Korea was particularly severe. There are multiple cases of the whole country being turned into a battlefield from periods of ten years to several decades. For example, the Hideyoshi invasions of 1592-98 that trampled on the whole of the country for some seven years resulted in the loss of most written documents before this period.

Likewise, the near forty years of Japanese colonial rule in the twentieth century also caused many historical documents to be scattered or stolen.

We do know that there were already immense history works as well as poetry collections and narrative literature in the Three Kingdoms period through works such as the Samguk sagi or the Samguk yusa. However, it is difficult to state that the reason these documents are not extant is solely due to wars. As an example of an extant document, the enormous scale of Koryŏ p’alman taejang-gyŏng [Grand Tripitaka of Koryŏ] is testament to the fact that those works recognized as valuable among readers were preserved and transmitted despite many hardships. The problem, then, must extend to Koreans themselves who did not highly value their own literary documents. Korea, existing near the immense Chinese cultural sphere, did not attach a high value to its own cultural productions for a historically long period. This was a phenomenon that commonly appeared in the areas surrounding the Chinese cultural sphere of the medieval period.

Consequently, written documents produced in Korea oftentimes were not transmitted to future ages. Even worse, in Chosŏn, works that did not correspond to Confucian ideology were often censored or simply ignored. Under such a strict ideology, the value of works that were either not Confucian or anti-Confucian was not recognized.

The result is that due to wars and various other factors, materials concerning Korean literature are not so abundant when compared to China or Japan. Fortunately, there are numerous documents from the last half of Chosŏn, but those before the Hideyoshi invasions are rare and what remains is mainly written in literary Chinese; literature written in the Korean script han’gŭl is extremely difficult to find. Without even mentioning the time before the mid-fifteenth century when the han’gŭl script was created, even after that, literary Chinese was required in all official and important documents. Therefore the relative importance of Korean literature written in han’gŭl can be said to have been relatively low.

The main object of interest in the history of Korean literature is those materials written in the Korean language. From such a stance, the history of Korean literature cannot but be scanty.

However, this is because many materials have not been transmitted to the present age, therefore; it is incorrect to conclude that the amount of works written in Korean was insignificant. Despite the fact

that novels written in han’gŭl were widely circulated in late the Chosŏn period, hardly any related records have been found. This was because novels written in han’gŭl were not recognized by the standards of the Confucian ideology and were instead rejected. Although we cannot state the number of these works was as abundant as that of today, we can certainly say that literature in Korean was much more abundant than what has been transmitted to the present day. Moreover, although literature in the Korean language was less abundant than that of today, it is not something we can consider only negatively, since it was common to view indigenous culture with lower esteem in areas around the Chinese culture sphere. Rather, for a comprehensive understanding of Korean literature of the ancient and early modern periods, it is preferable to include not only literature written in the Korean language itself, but also all the Korean works written in literary Chinese.

Writings and Records in Korean Before the modern period, Korean literature consisted of items written in either literary Chinese or Korean. Initially, Korean states used literary Chinese introduced from China for writing.

Later on, they used Chinese characters in order to express their own language. A prime example of a modified writing system derived from Chinese characters is idu. Japan also utilized a modified writing system. Japan improved this modified system into their present writing system while Korea devised its own unique writing system that can perfectly represent the Korean language. This is the Hunmin chŏngŭm [Correct sounds to teach the people], or han’gŭl script, that King Sejong created. Thus in Korea, there were the three writing methods used: literary Chinese, idu, and the Korean script.

The use of idu is verified by various inscriptions on stone and grave steles such as the Koguryŏ sŏngbyŏk sŏkkagmyŏng [The castle wall stone inscription of Koguryŏ] dating from the fifth century CE. Idu was largely used in epitaphs, diaries, and song lyrics, such as hyangga, in the early stages. However, as the use of Chinese characters increased, the range of its use grew more limited. Especially after the promulgation of the Hunmin chŏngŭm in 1446, Chinese characters were used only in writing formal or private documents.

However, although the range of usage of Chinese characters decreased, this does not mean that the use of idu stopped. Idu was continuously used until the end of the nineteenth century and especially relied upon for the preparation of formal documents. It was an important recording means before the modern period. However, besides the hyangga of Silla and Koryŏ, literary works using idu are scant, and thus it is not often discussed in regards to literature.

Literary Chinese and idu were the representative writing modes of Korean states before the invention of the Hunmin chŏngŭm. However, these writing systems were not easy for the general population to master. Literary Chinese was a thoroughly foreign language and differed significantly in grammar as well and, therefore, could not be used unless one was highly educated.

Idu, derived from Chinese characters, was only useful after mastering the difficult ideographs.

Due to the specific features of these writing systems, common people were highly restricted when it came to writing. The writing system of han’gŭl was created to overcome this very difficulty.

Han’gŭl is a writing system devised in order for commoners to be able to write the Korean language as it sounds. For Koreans it was so easy that one could learn how to read in half a day.

Therefore, the use of han’gŭl rapidly increased as soon as it was introduced and it became the only official writing system of Korea in the twentieth century.

Korean Literature in Literary Chinese and Han’gŭl As there are few literary works in idu, the history of Korean literature can be divided into those works in literary Chinese and those in han’gŭl. In premodern Korean literature, the literary strata between literature in Chinese and that in Korean can be vividly seen. Literary Chinese was the formal medium of expression, which represented the culture of the upper status groups, while han’gŭl was a personal writing means, representing the culture of the lower status groups.

Chinese character writings were called “true writings” (chinsŏ) while the Korean alphabet was termed “vulgar characters” (ŏnmun) in the Chosŏn period. This means that Chinese characters were a medium that held an eternal truth while the han’gŭl script was a dialect that could never be exemplary. A vivid illustration of this is that for the approximately four hundred years after han’gŭl was created in Chosŏn, there is not even a single funerary stele written in the Korean script.

The few instances of han’gŭl being engraved on stone markers were, at the most, warning signs to prevent damage to grave markers or encourage public safety such as “use caution to prevent mountain fires,” all aimed at lower status group people. However, there are very few of even such examples of the common script being used in writing. Han’gŭl was never used in official pronouncements. Moreover, han’gŭl was referred to as the “female script” (amk’ŭl) because it was used by socially marginalized classes such as women. Thus han’gŭl was only used in unofficial writings and low value works such as novels, songs, letters, and diaries. Korean literature, then, can be divided into works of upper status groups composed in Chinese characters and works of lower status groups, including women, which were written in the Korean script.

Foreign and Native Ideologies Before the modern period, Korean states had a strong tendency towards preserving their culture in relation to Chinese culture. Korean literature also sensitively reacted to currents in Chinese literature. Thus, native elements in proportion to foreign elements were transmitted as important literary properties.

The two axes of foreign and traditional cultures similarly appeared as significant ideological backdrops to literature. The main ideologies manifested in Korean literature are shamanism, Buddhism, Confucianism, and Daoism. Korea underwent a great ideological upheaval after receiving

Buddhism from India through China. Buddhism, while initially confronting traditional ideology, gradually settled down in the Korean peninsula. Subsequently, the status of Buddhism was solidified as the main ideology throughout the Three Kingdoms period, the Northern and Southern Kingdoms period, and the Koryŏ dynasty.

At a similar time as Buddhism was introduced to the Korean states, Daoism and Confucianism, both originating in China, entered the peninsula. Daoism well harmonized with existing Korean ideologies and soon settled into the peninsula; Confucianism, conversely, was considered important from the aspect of its functional usefulness as a governing ideology rather than a religion.

When Chosŏn was founded and professed itself a Confucian state, Buddhism was rejected at once and Confucianism became the main ideology of Korea for half a millennium until the modern period.

Hence, foreign ideologies seem to be overwhelmingly predominant in the history of Korean ideology. Since the Three Kingdoms period, Buddhism and then Confucianism dominated as official ideologies. Nonetheless, these belief systems were not simply adopted, but rather reconciled with native ideologies and customs. It was neither Indian Buddhism nor Chinese Confucianism, but rather Korean Buddhism and Korean Confucianism that became the main ideologies of Korean states.

Like Korean literature, Korean ideology has a strong element of foreign influence as well as strong native features. The native element together with the foreign element historically developed through propitiation, confrontation, and conflict.

The Traditions and Special Features of a Border Civilization Korean culture in the pre-modern period was not free of the cultural and geographic pull of China and Chinese culture due to its proximity. Although we can see a strong assertion of autonomy in both the Three Kingdoms and Koryŏ periods by the utilization of independent reign eras as opposed to Chinese ones, Chosŏn held the ideals of “serving the great” (sadae) and “amity among equals” (kyorin) as supreme. Thus, Chosŏn had an accommodating stance towards China and interacted on equal terms in spite of holding a complex of superiority towards its neighbors such as Japan.

The sadae-kyorin ideology of Chosŏn is more an attitude of respect for China as the center of culture than simply submission to a stronger country. For example, Chosŏn respected Ming China founded by the ethnic Han people, but only diplomatically served Qing China founded by the Manchu people. In reality, the elites of Chosŏn despised and abhorred the Qing. Chosŏn found the center of culture in China, thus remaining peripheral and demonstrating characteristics of a border culture. And these characteristics helped to distinguish Chosŏn from Japan that, in other respects, was similar as it was also a peripheral culture of China. Japan received Chinese culture both directly from China and through Korea, but, nonetheless, did not place China in a superior position.

With the onset of the modern period, Chosŏn simultaneously lost its standard of thinking and ability to act. This was because the center—China—collapsed with the intrusion of the great

Western powers. Instead of Confucianism and Buddhism, Christianity rapidly spread and instead of Chinese characters, the Korean language became the official language. The study of English and Japanese became widespread, and with the United States as the representative of the West and Japan as the representative of western culture, new standards came into existence.

In the Japanese colonial period, Japan somewhat filled the role as a cultural standard and since liberation the United States has filled the role that China previously held. The influence of Untied States cannot be ignored anywhere in the world, and moreover, the usage of English is greater than ever. However, the role of America as a standard for thought and action in Korea seems to be greater than the international tendency and thusly quite similar to the relation between ChosĹ?n and China. Korean culture has experienced a new identity crisis in the modern period.

Questions such as how to realize the harmony of traditional culture with foreign influences and how to secure the core of Korea’s own culture are some of the problems confronting Korea today.

Foundation Mythology The Countries Created by the Gods History and Foundation Mythology Wherever people live, there must be stories and songs. However, most of these are buried in the past and only those with strong transmitting features have been passed down from the ancient past. Foundation mythologies are highly likely to be transmitted. This is because foundation myths are narratives that it behooves certain segments of the population to transmit. The ruling class that founded a polity would intentionally propagate its foundation myth in order to establish legitimacy.

Moreover, the ruled classes would have a high interest in the foundation myth since it would enable them to secure their own identities as members of the country. Given this environment, foundation myths could be transmitted over long periods, as they carried a clear purpose and because these were the object of many people’s interest.

Foundation mythologies have been transmitted both orally and in written records. The ancient countries on the Korean peninsula compiled their own histories. Early after the foundation of Koguryŏ a history, Yuki [Extant records], of some one hundred fascicles was already compiled; in 600 CE, this was edited into five fascicles of Sinjip [New Compilation] by the scholar Yi Munjin. In Paekche, the scholar Ko Hŭng compiled Sŏgi [Documentary records] in 375 CE, and there were other historical works including Paekche-gi [Record of Paekche], Paekche pon’gi [Annals of Paekche], and Paekche sinch’an [New compilation of Paekche]. In Silla, Kŏch’ilbu in 545 CE gathered all the literary men of the age and compiled Kuksa [National history]. As we can see, there was an immense amount of history compiled in Korean states nearly two millennia ago.

Unfortunately, not even a single volume of these works is presently extant.

These history works would naturally contain the foundation myths of the respective country.

Fortunately, the foundation myths of these countries were recorded in various history works that were transmitted through the Koryŏ period. Moreover, the myths were also recorded in later history works such as Samguk sagi or Samguk yusa that used these old documents as sources, and in literary collections and thus could survive until today. A further source for ancient myths is Chinese historical records such as Hu Hanshu [History of the latter Han Dynasty] where parts of Korean foundation myths can be found. In the present volume, the foundation myths of Kojosŏn, Puyŏ, Koguryŏ, Paekche, and Silla will be introduced in order based on the Samguk sagi and Samguk yusa.

The Tan’gun Myth of Kojosŏn The start of recorded Korean history is from the state of Chosŏn, commonly called old Chosŏn (i.e., Kojosŏn) in order to distinguish it from the more recent Chosŏn dynasty. The founder

of Kojosŏn is Tan’gun, and the story of Tan’gun founding Kojosŏn is the Tan’gun Myth. We will examine the Tan’gun Myth as it is recorded in the Samguk yusa.

A son of a heavenly deity, Hwanung, came down to the human world to educate and govern the people. At that time, there was a bear and a tiger that wanted to become humans; giving them only mugwort and garlic, Hwanung instructed them to shun sunlight for one hundred days. The tiger could not do as instructed, but the bear managed to live in a cave and finally became a woman.

However, this bear woman did not have a man to marry, and thus continually prayed to the heavens to send her a husband. Consequently, Hwanung temporarily transformed into a human and married this bear woman. The bear woman eventually gave birth to a child, and this was Tan’gun. Tan’gun established P’yŏngyang as his capital, named the country Chosŏn, and ruled for 1,500 years.

Tan’gun later went to Asadal where he became a mountain god.

The history of ancient countries on the Korean peninsula after Kojosŏn continues to polities such as Puyŏ and Koguryŏ. The mythologies of these states—Kojosŏn, Puyŏ, Koguryŏ, and Paekche—are all seen to be related when examining their foundation myths. Thus, the foundation myths of these countries are somewhat confused and jumbled together. There is even a document that explains Tan’gun as the father of Puru, the founder of Puyŏ. There are multiple founders of Puyŏ, such as Haemosu the founder of Northern Puyŏ, Haeburu the founder of Eastern Puyŏ, and Tongmyŏng the founder of Cholbon Puyŏ. In other documents, Tongmyŏng is generally said to be the founder of Koguryŏ. From this point of view, we can state that the foundation myth of Koguryŏ was a mythological transmission from Kojosŏn and Puyŏ.

Koguryŏ and the Chumong Myth The Chumong Myth is the foundation myth of Koguryŏ as recorded in the Samguk sagi.

King Tongmyŏng is the founder of Koguryŏ; his surname is Ko and given name Chumong. Before he was born, there was King Haeburu of Puyŏ. Haburu did not have a son until old age, and thus he performed rites to the mountains and rivers and prayed for a son. In the meanwhile, he found a boy beside a road that looked much like a golden frog and named him Kŭmwa. Kŭmwa succeeded the throne after Haeburu.

One day, Kŭmwa found Yuhwa, the daughter of the water god Hwabaek. Yuhwa at that time was pregnant by Haemosu, the son of a deity. Kŭmwa considered Yuhwa strange and thus confined her to a room. However, in the room sunlight followed after Yuhwa and illuminated her.

Subsequently, Yuhwa gave birth to a large egg. Kŭmwa thought the egg inauspicious and threw it to the dogs and pigs, but those animals did not eat the egg. Kŭmwa then cast the egg onto the road, but passing horses and oxen avoided it. And, when the egg was thrown into a field, a bird descended and covered it with its wings. The king considered all of this infelicitous and tried to cut the egg in half, but could not break it.

Later on, a male child broke out of the egg. His sprit and appearance were extraordinary.

He was good at archery and thus called Chumong; in Puyŏ, the word “chumong” indicated one who was talented at archery. Kŭmwa ordered Chumong to raise horses. Chumong gave less food to an excellent horse, making it gaunt, and fed a slower animal well, allowing it to grow large. Kŭmwa selected the larger steed for himself, and gave to Chumong the gaunt animal. As Chumong grew older and became increasingly distinguished, many were jealous of him. He thus fled, arriving at a large river, with the soldiers of Puyŏ in hot pursuit. Chumong shouted to the heavens “I am a son of a god and grandson of Hwabaek! The chase has drawn near, what should I do?” Then, fish and turtles rose up above the river and fashioned a bridge, allowing him to easily cross the river to safety.

He arrived at the Cholbon River and founded the Koguryŏ Kingdom in 38 BCE. He then struggled with King Songyang from the neighboring country of Piryu-guk, before eventually forcing his submission. Chumong, now King Tongmyŏng, renamed Piryu-guk as Tamulto, meaning “recovered old lands,” and had King Songyang serve as ruler.

In the summer of Tongmyŏng’s nineteenth year as king his son Yuri from Puyŏ fled to Koguryŏ with his mother. Tongmyŏng considered Yuri as the crown price of Koguryŏ. Tongmyŏng had been married to a woman with the surname of Ye before he fled Puyŏ. This woman had given birth to Yuri after Tongmyŏng was forced to flee. When Yuri was young, he was playing outside shooting birds and accidentally broke a woman’s water jar. The woman scolded him saying he was behaving recklessly because he had no father. Feeling ashamed, Yuri returned home and asked his mother about his father. His mother told him that his father was not an ordinary person but the king of Koguryŏ.

She also told him the message his father had left: “If you give a birth to a son, have him find the item I leave under the stone with seven edges beneath a pine tree. I will only believe the one who possesses this thing to be my son.” After hearing his, Yuri went deep into the mountains to find the item his father had hidden. However, no matter how he searched he could not find it and returned home exhausted and empty-handed. One day when he was looking for the secret place and tiredly sitting on the wooden floor of the house, a noise came out from between the foundation stones. He went to the source of the noise and examined it carefully: the foundation stone had seven edges and a pole made of pine was erected above. Beneath that pole, Yuri found a broken piece of knife, and thus went to Chumong with it. When the king matched it with his own piece, the two fragments formed the hilt of one perfect knife. Thus, Tongmyŏng accepted Yuri as his son.

Paekche and the Onjo Myth The foundation myth of Paekche is not as detailed as the Chumong myth and its content varies widely according to different documents. However, the narrative converges at the point that the founder is said to originate from either Puyŏ or Koguryŏ. The narrative recorded in the Samguk sagi is closely related to the above Chumong Myth. In this, Chumong avoided the danger in Northern Puyŏ and founded Cholbon Puyŏ. The king of Puyŏ recognized his excellent nature and

had him marry his second daughter. Chumong subsequently became the king of Puyŏ and had two princes, Piryu and Onjo.

However, the son who was born in Northern Puyŏ came to Chumong. Since this son became the crown prince, Piryu and Onjo had no choice but to leave Puyŏ. The two princes traveled south to the Han River basin, but could not get along well and separated. Piryu settled at Mich’uhol near the coast and Onjo at Hanam Wiryesŏng located to the east of present-day Seoul.

The party Piryu commanded did not well adapt themselves to the costal area, but Onjo ruled his group very well. The shame Piryu felt at seeing how stable the kingdom of Onjo was lead to his death. The people of Piryu then moved to Onjo’s kingdom, which was later named Paekche.

Silla and the Myth of Pak Hyŏkkŏse The foundation myths of Kojosŏn, Puyŏ, Koguryŏ, and Paekche are related as detailed above. However, the foundation myths of Silla and Kaya are of a dissimilar lineage from the above myths and are quite different. First, we will examine the foundation myth of Silla recorded in the Samguk yusa.

There were six villages in the old land of Silla and the people of the six villages were saddened that the country was not ruled well because there was no king. One day, a bright light illuminated a well called Najŏng and there appeared a white horse kneeling down and bowing deeply. The people went to that spot and found a large egg. From the egg, a baby boy appeared and he was upright and beautiful. All were surprised and thinking it strange, they bathed him in spring water. His body had a great luster, and the birds and animals danced around him.

This person was Pak Hyŏkkŏse, the founder of Silla. The people soon tried to find a spouse for the new king. On the same day a Chicken Dragon appeared near a well called Aryŏngjŏng at Saryang Village and gave a birth to a baby girl from its left rib. Her face was beautiful but her mouth was just like the beak of chicken. After being bathed at a streamlet north of Wŏlsŏng, the beak fell off. The people raised these two babies gently with great care, and when the two were thirteen years old they married each other. They founded Sŏrabŏl, which later changed its name to Silla.

Kaya and the Myth of King Suro Finally, we will examine the foundation myth of Kaya recorded in the Samguk yusa. One day, from Kuji Peak nearby Kimhae, people heard a strange sound that seemed to be calling out.

As people gathered, they heard the call, “Is someone out there?” The nine headman of the region answered back, “We are here.” The voice replied, “Where am I?” and the headmen replied “Kuji Peak.” The voice continued, “The heavens ordered me to found a country here and be its king. You all dig dirt from the top of this mountain while singing ‘turtle, turtle, show your head/ if you do not,

we will roast and eat you’ while dancing. If you do so, you will receive the king.” The nine headmen did as instructed and sometime later a golden colored box came down from the heavens. Inside were six eggs. Soon some young babies broke out of the eggs and they became the six kings of Kaya. One of them was Kim Suro the King of Kaya-guk, which was also known as Taegarak.

King Suro ruled the country well and one day a person named Sŏk Tarhae appeared from the far off country of Wanha-guk. Tarhae was also born from an egg; his height was not even half that of an ordinary man but his head was much larger than a normal person. Tarhae went to King Suro and told him to give up his throne and the two competed using their magical skills. Tarhae first transformed into a hawk and Suro turned himself into an eagle. When Tarhae became a sparrow, Suro changed into a hawk. In the end, Tarhae surrendered to Suro and left Kaya.

The people of Kaya worried constantly about not being able to find a spouse for Suro. One day in the southwest sea, a boat with a red sail arrived. In the boat was Hŏhwangok, a princess of Ayut’a, and her party. She said that her parents, the king and queen, had a revelation from the heavens in their dreams and sent her to Suro. Suro received the princess as his wife. He solidified the administration of the country and ruled benevolently until he died at the age of 158, the year after his wife died.

Ancient Songs: From Collective Songs to Individual Lyricism There are three ancient songs transmitted to the present: “Kuji-ga” [Song of welcoming the divine lord], “Kong mudoha-ga” [My lord do not cross the river] and “Hwangjo-ga” [Song of the nightingale]. These three songs do not have a fixed pattern or framework, and are all recorded as forms of Chinese character poetry. The songs were not recorded independently, but are accompanied by background narration, and this well reflects the aspect of ancient literature that harmonized song and narrative, and dance and labor.

It is not clear when these songs were created. If we divide them chronologically, we can posit the order to be “Kong mudoha-ga,” a song of Kojosŏn, “Hwangjo-ga,” composed by King Yuri, the second king of Koguryŏ, and “Kuji-ga,” a song related to the foundation of Karak-guk.

However, in the times these songs were composed, the group took priority over the individual and thus, it is necessary to establish chronological order through the features of each song. For example, the foundation of Karak-guk was obviously a later event when compared to the period in which King Yuri lived. Yet, “Kuji-ga” contains the foundation myth of an ancient country and demonstrates an earlier period of historical development than does “Hwangjo-ga,” which was composed after the time of the foundation myths.

From this aspect, we can state that “Kuji-ga” is an earlier creation than “Hwangjo-ga” since the former is related to the foundation myth of Karak-guk and the latter was produced at a time when the strong governing system of the country had been established. Moreover, although “Kong mudoha-ga” is the creation of a period ruled within the mythological order, at the same time it reflects the gradual process of destroying the mythological order. Thus, we can see that the order in which these songs were created is “Kuji-ga” followed by “Kong mudoha-ga” and “Hwangjo-ga” based upon these characteristics.

“Kuji-ga”: A King Coming Out of an Egg “Kuji-ga” is recorded in the “Annals of Karak-guk” section of the Samguk yusa and is summarized as follows: At a time before there was a name for the country or titles of king and minister, a strange sound came from Kuji Peak and many people gathered nearby. They were told by the heavens to dig and strike the soil of the mountaintop, while singing “turtle, turtle, show your head/ if you do not, we will roast and eat you” while dancing. The people did as instructed and a bit later a red rope dropped down from the heavens with a golden box wrapped in a red cloth suspended from it. When opened, there were six golden eggs; Suro came out of one egg and became the king of Taegarak, also known as Kaya-guk.

The advent of this song includes various mythological elements. First, this song contains an

earnest entreaty to wait for a new ruler. Especially in the phrase “show your head,” we can see the people’s wishes for the birth of the monarch Suro in a normal or healthy way. What, then, could be the identity of the turtle? Considering that Karak-guk was a polity that developed mainly in the middle and lowers regions of the Naktong River basin and the coastal areas of Southern Kyŏngsang Province, turtles are thought to have been a totem animal worshipped by the people. The threatening tone of “if you do not give it up, we will roast and eat you” is a general feature of an incantatory song. The urgency and insecurity arising from the fear of impending doom should that being wished for not be realized was expressed in the form of this direct threat.

In summary, “Kuji-ga” is a collective incantatory song of the tribal group, that is, the people of Karak-guk, who worshipped turtles as a totem animal and, further, desired a normal birth for the one they had tentatively decided upon as their ruler. From this aspect, it can be said to express the emotions and ideology of the earliest period among the ancient songs.

“Kong mudoha-ga”: Collapse of the Mythological Order As history unfolded, the mythological order gradually collapsed. “Kong mudoha-ga” is a literary work of this very period. This poem is transmitted through Haedong yŏksa [History of the eastern country (i.e., Korea)] that cited Gu jin zhu [Notes from old and new] compiled by the Chinese Jin dynasty writer Cui Bao. Since the source of this song is a Chinese document, occasionally some scholars contend it is a Chinese song and not of Kojosŏn. However, from the point that the background narration related to this work is clearly stated to be Kojosŏn, we should not even be a bit hesitant in viewing it as an ancient Korean song. The background narrative concerning “Kong mudoha-ga” is as follows: In Kojosŏn, there was a boatman by the name of Kwangni Chago. One day at daybreak, when he was mending his boat, a white-haired lunatic, holding a bottle of wine and with his hair hanging down, was staggering to cross the river. Despite the pleas of his wife, who was following him, to not cross, he attempted to do so and ended up drowning. The wife sang a very sad song of entreaty “Dear, please do not cross.” After she sang her song, she then jumped into the river and also died. When the boatman came home he told this story to his wife Yŏok, who then sang the song herself, “My dear do not cross the water; / but my dear crossed it in spite of the danger. Now he has drowned/ when will I meet him again?”

From content of the tale, we can understand that the first composer of this song was the wife of a white-haired madman. However, the one who propagated this song was Yŏok, the wife of the boatman. The musical instrument she played when she sang this song was the konghu (a type of harp) and thus the song is also known by the title of “Konghuin” [Plucking the harp].

While there are some opinions that see the identity of this white-haired lunatic as a “deity of liquor,” the interpretation that he was a male diviner seems more convincing. The power of shamans reaches a peak when they freely cross over the boundary between life and death and then return.

With this idea, we can understand that the madman’s plunge into the river was confirmation of a ritual by a shaman to overcome death and to secure his new power.

However, the problem lies in the point that the shaman failed to gain such power. Why would this be? From the aspect of social structure, it seems to indicate that at this point in time society had entered a stage where it no longer recognized the prestige of shamans. As Kojosŏn established a system for the administration of the country, political rulers replaced shamans or other heads of ritual ceremonies that had once been charged with all variety of rites. Therefore, this song can be understood to reflect the social countenance at the end of the mythological period when the sacred and sublime order began to collapse and, accordingly, the efficacy of incantations became distrusted. The group and individual began to be divided and individuals faced a situation where they must solve their own problems. The “tragedy of the individual” had thus begun.

“Hwangjo-ga,” the First Individual Verse “Hwangjo-ga” is recorded in the “Annals of Koguryŏ” section of the Samguk sagi written

by Kim Pusik. The background narrative is as follows: As Queen Song died in the third year of King Yuri’s reign (17 BCE), the King remarried Hwahŭi from Kolch’ŏn and also Chihŭi who was from Han dynasty China. These two women did not get along with each other and thus the king arranged two different places for them to dwell. One day when the king went out hunting and did not return for seven days the two women had a serious quarrel and eventually Chihŭi, bearing a grudge, went back to her country. The king heard of this and followed after her, but Chihŭi was angry and would not return. The king, while resting under a tree and looking at flocks of orioles on the wing, sang, “Gently flying orioles/ female and male matched in pairs. / Thinking of my loneliness/ with whom will I return?”

It is not clear who composed this work. As seen above, the narrative does not state that Yuri composed the song, but only sang it. However, there seems little doubt that this work is closely related to the time period when King Yuri lived.

Although King Yuri was the monarch who succeeded the mythological hero King Tongmyŏng, was not a supernatural being. He was simply a mortal ruler. The difficulties he went through are good examples of his mortality. He was a weak figure who could not even solve the discord between his two wives.

From this point, “Hwangjo-ga” can be understood as a poem with lyrical features in which individual emotions are prominently exposed: the joyful orioles flying in pairs contrasted with a solitary man, the lightness of gentle flight and heaviness of lonesomeness, and the aftertaste of gloom lingering in the last phrase. While these elements are layered upon one another, the work sadly captures the longing and loneliness of the poetic voice. This work is very meaningful from the aspect that it reveals in a glance the movement and change of ancient songs from collective narrations to individual lyrical descriptions.

The Introduction of Chinese Characters and Literary Chinese in the Three Kingdoms As these ancient Korean kingdoms had no indigenous writing systems, Chinese characters were used for all writings. All of the oldest songs such as “Kong mudoha-ga,” “Hwangjo-ga,” and “Kuji-ga” previously discussed were recorded and passed on as Chinese character poetry (hansi).

Although it is not clear when Chinese characters were introduced to the Korean peninsula, we know this happened before the Three Kingdoms period. With the introduction of Chinese characters, it became possible to record history, and write poetry and prose.

There were unavoidable limitations in using a foreign writing system. Nonetheless, gradually this writing system came to occupy a unique position in the early Korean cultures. This level exceeded simple imitation, and gradually rose to a level that could match other East Asian countries.

Until the middle of the Three Kingdoms period, four character poems in the sigyŏng-ch’e style (a form of poetry based upon the poetry in the Sijing [Book of Poetry]) were the main current.

Subsequently, until the middle of the Greater Silla period, the munsŏn-ch’e style (a poetic form based upon the writings in the Wenxuan [Literary anthology]) became popular. After the middle of the Greater Silla period, the number of students studying in Tang China increased and consequently the new form kŭmch’e si (recent style poetry), created in Tang during this time, became the mainstream of the literary world. As for prose, pyŏllyŏ-mun (or sa-ruk-mun; antithetical style), which emphasized rhetoric with an emphasis on beauty of form was popular. The prose transmitted to the present are mostly diplomatic records or official documents, most of which are written in the antithetical style.

Chinese Character Literature of Koguryŏ The use of Chinese characters for writing was pervasive among the polities of the Three Kingdoms period. Koguryŏ, which geographically bordered China, began to utilize Chinese writing earlier than the other Korean states. There is a record in the Samguk sagi stating that Koguryŏ used Chinese characters from its earliest stage and that China sent Buddhist scriptures and Buddhist statues to Koguryŏ in 372 CE, and in the same year the T’aehak (Confucian academy), an educational institution, was founded. As seen in the writing on the Stele of King Kwanggaet’o composed in 414, it is obvious that literature written in Chinese characters had already reached a high standard by this time.

Yi Munjin, an instructor of the T’aehak comprehensively reorganized the extant historical works in 602, and in 639 numerous students were sent to China to study at the Guoxue, the national school of China at the time. In 643, the Daode-jing [Classic of the Virtues of the Way] was introduced and along with the five Confucian Classics and other Chinese works such as the Saji [Records of the historian], Hanshu [History of the Han dynasty] and Wenxuan [Literary anthology]

were widely read.

However, there are not many literary works from Koguryŏ extant today. “Hwangjo-ga” mentioned earlier, although it was written as a tetrasyllabic quatrain, was originally sung in Korean but subsequently written with Chinese characters. “Yŏ suchang U chungmun” [Verse for the Sui General Yu] written by the Koguryŏ general Ŭlji Mundŏk and given to a Sui dynasty general who had invaded Koguryŏ in 612 is the oldest poem written in Chinese characters among existing literary works. Yet, the refined expressions of this verse leave little doubt that there had been many earlier works, Miraculous stratagem contemplate the Heavens, Perfect calculations reckon with the nature of the Earth.

You are victorious in every battle, and your honor lofty, Know satisfaction and when to stop [the war].

Like the Heavens and Earth, the first two lines are an excellent pair. The last line alludes to the Daode-jing, which states, “if one knows how to be satisfied, he will avoid insult, and if one knows how to stop, he can last long without danger.” Such an allusion presumes that both writer and reader were aware of the contents of the Daode-jing.

Seeing a Chinese character poem such as this utilized in a psychological war to provoke an enemy, we can surmise how widespread Chinese character poetry was at that time. Yu Zhongwen became extremely angry after receiving this poem. Thus, he quickened the march of his troops and fell into a Koguryŏ trap at Salsu, leading to a massive defeat of the Sui army.

Additionally, the Chinese character poetry from Koguryŏ includes a piece entitled “Yŏnggosŏk” [Song of the solitary rock] which is a song that a monk, Preceptor Chŏng, sang about a rock that rose sharply above the water, and a tetrasyllabic poem “Insamch’an” [In praise of ginseng] of which the composer is not known. The level of these works is not considered to be particularly high.

As for prose, there is the Stele of King Kwanggaet’o that records the achievements of the nineteenth king of Koguryŏ, Kwanggaet’o. This stele is over six meters high and has 1,800 characters inscribed on it; it carries the narrative of the foundation of Koguryŏ until the great achievements of Kwanggaet’o, as well as admonishments for later generations. The prose is simple yet graceful, and the writing style on the stele shows the magnificent spirit of the people of Koguryŏ.

Besides these, there are various writings on stone or metal pieces, but the literary level is too low to be termed literature.

Chinese Character Literature of Paekche As we know through various relics, Paekche was a country with an exceedingly splendid

and beautiful culture. Unfortunately, extant literary data is quite scant. However, when we note that the instructor (paksa) Wangin was dispatched to Japan to teach Lunyu [The analects] and Ch’ŏnjamun [One thousand characters] in 285 CE, we can surmise that the level of literature in Chinese characters in Paekche had reached a considerable level by this early date. Furthermore, records state that paksa Kohŭng compiled the Sŏgi [Documentary records], a history of Paekche, in 375. Extant literary works of Paekche include a poem engraved on a bronze mirror that was discovered in the tomb of King Munyŏng (r. 501-523 CE), prose works such as a petition that requested assistance from Emperor Xiaowen (r. 471-499) of the Chinese Wei kingdom in subjugating Koguryŏ, and a letter presented to King Ŭija (r. 641-660) written by the loyal subject Sŏngch’ung while incarcerated.

The stele of Sat’aek Chijŏk was discovered in Puyŏ in 1948. Although the composer of this writing is not known, it is assumed that this was quite possibly written in late Paekche. The writing is highly refined and in an antithetical style, demonstrating the high level of literature at the time. Additionally, there are other prose works such as diplomatic documents, but these are not included in a discussion of literature.

Chinese Character Literature in Silla before 668CE Silla was located in the southeast portion of the Korean peninsula. Due to this geographical location, Silla was the last of the Three Kingdoms to import Chinese character literature. Chinese histories inform us that Silla did not use Chinese characters and thus communicated with China through Paekche. The country was named Silla by King Chijŭng in 503 with the meaning of “renewing virtuous achievements daily, and spreading out to the four directions.” In 545 the Kuksa [National history] was compiled under King Chinhŭng and while touring the country’s boundaries, he erected marker steles at four locations. Based on a considerable level of writing not seen in Koguryŏ or Paekche, the scope of Chinese character literature in Silla must have been quite substantial as well from earlier times.

In terms of verse, there is a poem entitled “Chi Tang t’aep’yŏng-song” [Presented to Tang, song of peace] that was written to commemorate the defeat of Paekche. This poem, written on silk and presented to the emperor of the Tang dynasty in 650 to build a close relationship, is well known.

The poem’s poetic value was judged to be on par with those of China thus demonstrating the level of Silla’s literature both at home and abroad.

Prose in this period includes literary works such as the petition to King Chinp’yŏng written

by Kim Hujik and Yŏlban-gyŏng chongyosŏ [Essential commentary on the Nirvana sutra] written

by Wŏnhyo both of which demonstrate a high level of literary excellence. In this period, Buddhism became widespread and was accompanied by the rise of Buddhist literature. Monks such as Wŏnhyo, when interpreting Buddhist scriptures, expressed their own ideas by adding an easily memorized form of verse (kesong) at the end of the work.

However, Korean literature in Chinese characters during this period did not surpass the stages of introduction and acceptance. Writings such as Imsin sŏgi-sŏk [Oath inscription of 612] while written in Chinese, followed the word order of Korean, thus demonstrating that there were many difficulties in learning Chinese and expressing one’s thoughts with it. Such problems subsequently spawned the creation of the new writing system hyangch’al that expressed Korean words by using the sounds and meaning of Chinese characters and was used in hyangga.

The Romances and Tragedies of the Silla People: Hyangga Entering the Three Kingdoms period, the feudal structure of society took root and each country also began to make its own unique songs. In particular, Silla created a new form of verse called hyangga that marks a level of remarkable progress in the development of lyrical verse. There are fourteen hyangga in the Samguk yusa that was compiled by the monk Iryŏn in late Koryŏ, and there are another eleven works known as the “Pohyŏn sipwŏn-ga” [Ten songs of entreaty to Samantabhadra] written by the monk Kyunyŏ in early Koryŏ. As the songs of the “Pohyŏn sipwŏnga” were written to praise Buddha for the purpose of propagating Buddhism, they are quite different from the general hyangga. Thus, there are only fourteen hyangga extant, and even these were not recorded using the writing system of the Shilla period but that of the later Koryŏ .

Hyangga are poem-songs recorded in the hyangch’al writing system, which borrowed the sounds and meanings of Chinese characters and modified the word order to match the Korean language. From such an aspect, hyangga are meaningful in that they are a unique Korean poetic form as opposed to Chinese poetic forms. Hyangga are not the name of specific a genre of poetry, but rather a general term for songs that adhere to various form and content. From the four-line folksongstyle to the more highly refined eight and ten-line songs, the range of hyangga is highly variegated.

Compared to either the four or eight-line styles of which the poetic development is relatively simple, the ten-line form is quite complex. The final two lines in the ten-line songs represent a unique completion element of the songs. That is, by including an exclamation such as “Ah-ah” at the beginning of the ninth line, the poetic image expanded upon previously is enhanced, and a more refined method of concluding that enhanced emotion was used in the tenth line.

Among hyangga, excellent works in artistic value are in general ten line poems, which are closely related to this advanced formal beauty. If we are to divide the hyangga in regards to form, “P’ungyo” [Ballad], “Sŏdong-yo” [Song of Sŏdong], “Hŏnhwa-ga [Song of offering flowers], and “Sanhwa kongdŏk-ga” [Song of offering flowers before Buddha] are all four-line songs, and “Ch’ŏyong-ga” [Song of Ch’ŏyong], “Mo Chukchi rang-ga” [Ode of the hwarang Chukchi] are eight-line songs, and all other works, including “Ch’an Kip’a rang-ga” [Ode to hwarang Kip’a] and “Che mangmae-ga” [Requiem for a dead sister], are ten-line songs.

Even the range of the content in these songs is wide. From Buddhist type supplications to Confucian morality and emotions such as the fever of courtship and distress at existence, the emotions and thoughts of the people of Silla imbue these songs in diverse ways. The composers of the songs also ranged widely from commoners to upper class intellectuals.

For this reason, Iryŏn wrote in the Samguk yusa that the people of Silla long held the hyangga in esteem and it was reported that from time to timthere were events that shook the world and the moved the spirits. In fact, each hyangga recorded is accompanied by a marvelous and touching episode that resulted in its creation. Accordingly, the background narratives should be appreciated together with the songs for a proper understanding.

Romance in the Four-line Hyangga The social class structure of Silla was strict and consisted of rigid distinctions including the sŏnggol (sacred bone), chin’gol (true bone), yuk tup’un (six head-rank), o tup’um (five head-rank), and so on. However, there are those hyangga that transcend class barriers such as “Sŏdong-yo” and “Hŏnhwa’ga.” The common points of these two songs include that both are four-line folksong style works and the backdrops of the songs have a very romantic quality.

Sŏdong, a man of Paekche, secretly came to Silla and gave away sweet potatoes to the children at the marketplace, bribing them to sing “Sŏdong-yo.” The lyrics are, “Princess Sŏnhwa /secretly hiding [Sŏdong] /enters Sŏdong’s room/ secretly to be hugged [i.e., loved] at night.” The background narrative informs us that when this ditty was spread, Sŏnhwa was expelled from the palace and at that moment, Sŏdong captured her heart and realized his love. Although there are opinions holding that Sŏdong was King Mu (r. 600-641) of Paekche, this is not a historical fact but rather a product of legendary conjecture.

The song reflects the dreams and hopes of poor commoners like Sŏdong. Moreover, the song informs us that it was not possible for a lower status person such as Sŏdong to marry a princess like Sŏnhwa, unless there was some sort of supernatural intervention or it took place in a fictional tale.

The people of Silla desired the realization of a love that could overcome social status as well as national boundaries if only in a fictional song like this.

The narrative intertwined with “Hŏnhwa-ga” is even more romantic. Lady Suro, the wife of Lord Sunjŏng, was passing through the east coast to join her husband in his new post as the prefect of the Kangnŭng prefecture during the reign of King Sŏngdŏk (r. 702-737) when she became fascinated by a royal azalea in full bloom on the top of a steep cliff. Although she truly desired the flower, no one offered to go after it for her; an old man, passing by with his cow, bravely picked the flower and offered it to her while singing, “Near this violet rock/ Allow me to leave the cow I am holding / If you are not ashamed of me/ I will pick and offer the flower to you.”

Lady Suro was not only the wife of a noble, but also a peerless beauty that was kidnapped by monsters wherever she went. The identity of the old man is variously interpreted as Bodhisattva, a farming deity, or a shaman. However, it seems proper to understand him only as an old man in the village attracted by the beauty of Suro. He thus picked the flower at the top of the cliff, presented the flower, and confessed his love to her. The beauty of Suro as she approached the old man was a marvelous shock. The extraordinariness of this old man was that he possessed a powerful passion that could be fascinated by this beauty, and that passion allowed him to scale the steep cliff that even sturdy youths feared and pick the flower to present to Lady Suro.

Also, the fascination of Suro with the azalea can be understood as an aristocratic lady who was accustomed to city life seeing a flower in full bloom at the very edge of a cliff, feeling its primitive wild beauty, and coming to truly desire it. Through a blooming azalea, Suro and the old man both

indulged in a newly experienced world of beauty. This could be an example of the sense of beauty cherished by the people of Silla that was realized beyond daily life and differences in age and social status. Of course, behind this aestheticism, there were romantic dreams to overcome the fetters of social status.

“Ch’ŏyong-ga”: Portrait of an Ill Society “Ch’ŏyong-ga” belongs to eight-line form of hyangga. It is often mentioned as the most popular hyangga and such a choice cannot be unrelated to the shocking and sexual content of its lyrics, and the background narrative to the song. Three characters appear in this song: Ch’ŏyong who loitered about until late on a moonlight night in Kyŏngju, the capital of Silla, his wife who was unfaithful, and the spirit of smallpox who violated the wife. The uniqueness of “Ch’ŏyong-ga” is the aspect that while Ch’ŏyong witnessed his wife’s infidelity he revealed an attitude of resignation and tolerance instead of anger.

However, in order to precisely understand this song, we need to clearly examine the historical circumstances confronting Ch’ŏyong, that being Silla society during the reign of King Hŏn’gang (875-886). This period in late Silla was a time of abundance and prosperity on one hand, and on the other, was the age that society became diseased with corruption and extravagance.

According to the background narrative of the song, King Hŏn’gang toured and enjoyed Port Kaeun of the Ulsan area. There he met Ch’ŏyong, one of the seven sons of the Dragon King, and brought him back to Kyŏngju. Thus, Ch’ŏyong was a son of the Dragon King. In general, the Dragon King is a symbolic expression for a male shaman, and accordingly it is best to view him as a local native power. Thus, the reason Hŏn’gang brought Ch’ŏyong to the capital city was as a means to pacify and control the local powers.

As such, Ch’ŏyong represents the vitality of healthy local culture in contrast to the diseased city of Kyŏngju. Although he came to Kyŏngju, took a high office, and married, Ch’ŏyong could not adapt himself to city life and wandered about as an outsider. The unfaithfulness of his wife vividly reveals the corruption of upper class society in the capital. Irrespective of east or west, when the morals of society are extremely lax, the sexual corruption of the upper classes becomes pronounced.

This seems to be the result of tactic consent among the upper class. The identity of the smallpox spirit, then, would be a son of the corrupted leisured class. Well represented in “Ch’ŏyong-ga” is the lost vitality of early Silla and the transformation of the capital to a diseased city founded in prosperity and abundance.

Sad Shadows Dwelling in the Songs of the Hwarang The hwarang are commonly argued to have been the essential element and spiritual pillar for Silla’s unification. The advent of the ten-line hyangga—the most refined form in the development of

these songs—was possible on the emotional and lofty ideological foundations of the hwarang. Those individuals whose names carried the suffix “sa,” such as Wŏlmyŏngsa and Ch’ungdamsa, represented the zenith of the Silla intellectual class that pursued a belief in the Maitreya Buddha along with cultural idealism. When at war for their country, they fought like fire and put integrity before their own lives, and in peaceful times they toured scenic locales and enjoyed refined lives. Such a select group is the image of the hwarang that has been passed down to the present.

Perhaps unexpectedly, however, the image of the hwarang reflected in hyangga is not this but rather is heavy with thick shadows of loneliness and sorrow. First, we will examine “Mo Chukchirang-ga,” an eight-line song. This piece is said to be a song that Tŭgo composed to cherish the memory of the hwarang Chukchi-rang. Chukchi-rang was a general from a rural district and together with Kim Yusin, greatly aided the unification of the Three Kingdoms by Silla. He was also respected by Silla people to such a degree that he was considered an incarnate of the Maitreya Buddha. However, the image of Chukchi-rang reflected in this song is one of, year by year, a withering person who had a life filled with hardships. This is quite different from the depiction of the hwarang generally given or imagined.

To explain this, we should examine the following social backdrop. After unification, the military might provided by the hwarang was no longer needed. Moreover the power of the hwarang became a great burden to the civil officials of the aristocratic class. Thus, the hwarang rapidly shrank and were excluded from the political sphere, becoming no more than a symbolic group. The sorrowful narrative voice in “Mo Chukchirang-ga” mirrors this reality.

“Ch’an Kip’arang-ga” is appraised as the most lyrically excellent work among all the ten-line hyangga. When King Kyŏngdŏk (r. 742-765) first met Ch’ungdamsa, he is said to have commented that, “I was told that your “Ch’an Kip’arang-sanoega” is a great work, is that really so?” The fame of this song was as great as that. Among all the hyangga, only this work carries the suffix of “sanoega,” meaning a highly refined hyangga with vivid lyrical elements.

The moon high in the sky and the deep blue streamlet that reflects the moon symbolize the noble character of Kip’a-rang. From the pebbles in the stream, the speaker praises Kip’a-rang stating that he wished to follow even the very end of his heart. It is a passionate song of praise presented to Kip’a-rang, and is easily worthy of being labeled the best hyangga. However, we know nothing of Kip’a-rang’s identity and he is only assumed to have been a respected hwarang like the aforementioned Chukchi-rang.

The descriptions of hwarang reflected in these songs are not those of their halcyon days.

Namely, in the shape of the lofty Kip’a-rang, the tragic shadow of the hwarang darkly descends. The duet of loftiness and tragedy filling “Ch’an Kip’a rang-ga” has its base in the decline of the institution of the hwarang. Thus, the song is a product of a time when noble minds such as that of Kip’a-rang became only an object of longing.

Wŏlmyŏngsa, the Representative Hyangga Composer

Wŏlmyŏngsa is the most acclaimed writer of hyangga. In the various episodes related to him, a mysterious air is more prominent than in any other stories. In 760, two suns appeared at once and did not go away for ten days. According to the request of King Kyŏngdŏk, Wŏlmyŏngsa composed and sang “Tosol-ga” [Song of Tusita heaven] and finally that extraordinary calamity ended.

Further, while performing a Buddhist rite for his deceased sister he sang “Che mangmae-ga” [Requiem for a dead sister] and all of the sudden a violent gale arose and the paper money put on the altar flew off to the west. The story behind the song tells us that his deceased sister used that money for travel expenses, and was able to go to the Western Paradise. Although this could have happened since it was an incident surrounding this particular hyangga, there is yet another famous episode concerning Wŏlmyŏngsa. Legend has it he was staying in Sach’ŏnwang Temple and every time he played his flute, the passing moon heard his song and stopped. Since the name of street was Wŏlmyŏng-ri, it is said that he took that for his name.

The mysterious episodes related to Wŏlmyŏngsa enhance his liberal aspects as a person of taste. He was, like the above-mentioned Ch’ungdamsa, an intellectual who believed in the ideology of the Maitreya Buddha, which carried with it a strong tendency for realistic reform, and the spirit of the hwarang. However, before a monk or member of the hwarang, he was above all else a troubadour.

The poetic excellence of “Che mangmae-ga” certainly reflects his talents. “Che mangmae-ga” is the product of the zenith of lyrical hyangga and its lyrics convey passionate emotions even to the present age, The road of life and death Fearfully lies in front of us.

Did you leave, Not even finishing the words, I go?

Like the leaves that fall asunder In an early autumn wind, We were born from the same branch, But I do not know where you go.

Ah, ah! Until we meet in Amitabha’s Pure Land, I shall wait and cultivate the Way. This song is not only well understood from early on compared to other hyangga, but the poetic development is also lucid. The narrator first speaks of his sister’s death and compares their relationship to leaves that have sprouted from the same branch. The metaphor of “leaves that fall asunder in an early autumn wind” very sensitively conveys the emptiness and sorrow associated with death. The powerful emotional undercurrents in this song emanate from the earnest expression of bitter grief toward death and of the fear of an unknown world common to all human beings. At last,

the narrator pledges to cultivate himself in order to meet her again in the Western Paradise of Amitabha. As mentioned above, WĹ?lmyĹ?ngsa was a hwarang who worshiped the Maitreya Buddha who emphasizes the present world, but he shifts to a belief in the next life before the realistic agony brought about by death. However the core of this song lies in the subjugation of the distress of death and in revealing a humane wish of longing for his sister again, rather than religious confession.

Literature in Chinese Characters in the Greater Silla Period It is correct to view the fundamental formation of Korean literature written in Chinese characters as taking place after the defeat of Paekche and Koguryŏ by Silla. Korean literature in Chinese characters rapidly developed in this period. There are several reasons for this development.

First, the children of the royal family were sent to Tang China for study in 640, and subsequently, many students traveled to Tang and learned its advanced culture, thus greatly expanding the base of culture in Silla. Among the students of this period, as many as fifty-eight passed the government service examination of the Tang dynasty. As they returned to Silla, literature in Chinese characters continually and rapidly developed.

Second, the Kukhak (National academy), modeled after the educational institutions in Tang, was established in 681 and thus the essential Classics were taught. Further, in 788 a rudimentary government service examination, toksŏ samp’um-kwa (reading of the texts in three gradations), was created and curricula were established for various levels of students in order to foster a class of literary men on a countrywide scale. Due to both these internal and external circumstances, the Chinese character literature of Silla could reach a high level in an international sense.

Two Geniuses of Silla, Kangsu and Sŏl Ch’ong Kangsu and Sŏl Ch’ong were the leading literary men in Chinese character works in the early greater Silla period. Kangsu excelled in the composition of diplomatic documents in particular. At this time, Silla was very active diplomatically with Tang China and accordingly, strongly emphasized the composition of diplomatic documents. Great effort was put into these documents to such a degree that there was even a government office charged with writing these diplomatic missives. Consequently, excellent literary talents such as Kangsu (?-692) were fostered in future generations.

Kangsu received his unique name, meaning “strong head,” as a result of a bone that protruded from his head. Although he was originally from Imna of the Kaya kingdom, he came to Silla when Kaya fell. He was a moralist who admired Confucianism more than Buddhism. Active in the unification war period, he greatly distinguished himself diplomatically by requesting assistance from the Tang army in overcoming Paekche and Koguryŏ. When a Tang envoy traveled to Silla and presented the Tang emperor’s royal edict, the Silla king and the royal court could not understand it precisely and were confused. However, Kangsu read at it once in front of the king and interpreted the meaning without any hesitation. The Silla reply to the Tang emperor was written by Kangsu and is said to have been an excellent composition with lofty meaning. Kangsu is an fine example of a scholar who overcame the limit of his social status and rose in Silla through knowledge of Confucianism and superior ability in composition.

Sŏl Ch’ong (660-730) was the son of the famous monk Wŏnhyo and Princess Yosŏk. He became familiar with the exegetic studies of China, and then translated and annotated the fundamental

scriptures of Confucianism, which had been unified in Tang, into Korean. While working with the Confucian Classics, he added Korean grammatical particles (kugyŏl) to ease reading and taught this system at the Kukhak. His particles were so excellent that they served as a textbook for those studying the Classics until the thirteenth century.

Sŏl Ch’ong also composed Hwawang-gye [Admonishment to the flower king], recorded in the Samguk sagi, to impart the importance of rule based on Confucian ideals to the king. His respect for the tenets of the three belief systems--Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism—is seen in other of his prose compositions and permits us to estimate the depth and breadth of his scholarship.

Hwawang-gye is a narrative composed by Sŏl Ch’ong at the request of King Sinmun (r.

681-692). This story uses personification and centers on the relationship between a peony, the king of the flowers, a sycophant rose, and a loyal windflower. When a peony blossomed in the land of flowers, many flowers went to see the new king. Among them, a gorgeous rose and a shabby, tattered windflower requested that the king engage their services as minister. Initially, the king was about to appoint the rose but after listening to the windflower’s sincere talk, he realized what was best and appointed the windflower. It is said that Sŏl Ch’ong made Sinmun aware of his mistakes through this allegoric narrative. The form of this composition is highly acclaimed and it is the oldest extant writing using personification in Korea. It influenced later personified works in both the Koryŏ and Chosŏn periods.

In addition to the above two men, another noteworthy early writer is Kim Taemun. Historical records inform us that he was an active writer and is credited with composing Hwarang segi [Chronicles of the hwarang], a history of the hwarang, and Kosŭng-jŏn [Biographies of eminent monks], a collection of biographies of monks. He was, evidently, committed to deeply understanding and recording the culture of Silla with these writings. However, his works have not been transmitted to the present age. In the 1980s, a copy of Hwarang segi was claimed to have been found; the content is very controversial and touched off an ongoing debate on the authenticity of the work. Interestingly, in this work, there is one hyangga not included in the Samguk yusa. If this is verified as being the work of Kim Taemun, the number of Silla hyangga will rise to a total of fifteen pieces.

Buddhist Literature and the Writing of Hyech’o After the defeat of Paekche and Koguryŏ by Silla, Buddhism flourished and developed to an even greater extent. Such distinguished monks as Wŏnch’ŭk (613-696) and Wŏnhyo (617-686) appeared and interpreted the Buddhist sutras, and expanded their ideas in the form of poem songs.

Wŏnch’ŭk is said to have composed as many as 108 fascicles of interpretative writings; seventeen of these have been transmitted to the present. Although these are writings that explained the Buddhist sutras, even from the aspect of literature in Chinese characters, it remains a remarkable product.

Wŏnch’ŭk wrote, “since utmost reason is deep and tranquil, it exceeds the state of existence and nonexistence.” He also wrote that we could not but borrow the power of language since there was no

other means for approaching reason; this statement influenced future generations’ understanding of literature.

Wŏnhyo is a scholar and literary man representative of this age. His Kŭmgang sammaegyŏng ron [Treatise on the Diamond Sutra] is written in the very beautiful antithetical prose style (K. pyŏn mun; C. pian wen). He was also fond of the four-character writing style even when interpreting other sutras. What is important is that he was able to render the deep truth of Buddhism into literary language. Although Buddhist literature of this period was not a direct literary creation, through the deep understanding and beautiful expressions contained in these works, Silla’s high level of literature in Chinese characters is most satisfactorily displayed.

A bit later than the above two men, Hyech’o (704-787) made a pilgrimage to the Buddhist holy land, the Five Kingdoms of India, through the countries bordering western China, and wrote his travelogue Wang Och’ŏnch’ukkuk-chŏn [Record of a journey to the Five Kingdoms of India]. This work was discovered by a French scholar, Paul Pelliot, in 1908 and in 1910 put on public exhibit. The work holds five travel poems along with vivid descriptions of the civilizations he witnessed and heard of and is thus a very valuable record for understanding those societies. The data in this work remains a highly important material for “Silk Road” research. Unfortunately, the last sections of the work have been lost and thus the full content is not known. However, the fact that Hyech’o, a monk of a country on the edge of East Asia, traveled to the Five Kingdoms of India for a period of over ten years and created this travel record, demonstrates the Silla people’s spirit of adventure and challenge along with their deep faith in Buddhism.

The Father of Korean Literature in Chinese Characters, Ch’oe Ch’iwŏn Among the Silla men who studied abroad in this period, Ch’oe Ch’iwŏn (857-?) was without a doubt the most outstanding. Scholars do not hesitate to count him among the most distinguished literary men in the history of Korean literature written in Chinese characters. At twelve he went to Tang China, and when he was eighteen in 874, he passed the state examination of Tang with the highest score and was appointed as a government official in the Tang government. At that time, a person named Huang Chao rose in revolt and Ch’oe, rather than his superior, wrote a manifesto to subjugate the rebel. While reading the manifesto, Huang became terrified at the power of this writing and thus fell out of his bed; this account is recorded in Chinese historical texts. Subsequently, when Ch’oe was about to return to Silla, the famous poets of Tang composed farewell poems for him, and these pieces are recorded in various literary collections of China even today.

When Ch’oe returned to Silla he tried to reform the kingdom’s disorderly politics by presenting a petition of ten reforms to the monarch, Queen Chinsŏng, in 894. However, this attempt failed, and Ch’oe could not realize his aspirations for the reform of the declining country. At last, at the still young age of about forty, he turned his back on the world and disappeared into the fog surrounding Mt. Kaya, leaving not so much as a trace. There are many legends surrounding his death that remain in

circulation today.

Among his works, such pieces as “Ch’uya ujung” [In the rain of an autumn night] that he composed when preparing for the state examination in Tang, or “Kaya-san doksŏ-dang” [Reading hall at Mt. Kaya] that he wrote while living at Mt. Kaya in his later years, most satisfactorily demonstrate his literary ability. In addition to these, his literary collection Kyewŏn p’ilgyŏng-jip [Plowing the cassia grove with a writing brush] holds many pieces written in various writing styles. In particular, “Sasan pimyŏng” [Epithets of the four mountains] is composed in long sentences, is deeply thoughtful, and is excellent in expression as well, thus earning it praise as being the pinnacle of his writings.

In addition to Ch’oe, other men who passed the Tang state examinations and returned to Silla include Ch’oe Kwangyu, Pak Inbŏp, and Ch’oe Sŭngu. Numerous works by these men are also included in Tongmunsŏn [Anthology of Eastern (i.e., Korean) literature]. The literary level of these works is also appraised highly. Ch’oe Sŭngu, who lived in late Silla, is said to have left an immense literary collection in China. However, this is not presently extant and his only remaining works are ten poems and one letter recorded in the Tongmunsŏn.

Currents in Tang literary circles influenced the hansi (poems in Chinese characters) of these men, especially the poetic style of the late Tang period (C. wan tang; K. mandang) that emphasized delicate expression and beautiful emotions. The writers put extraordinary effort into the craftsmanship of expression in these creations. Through these men, Korean literature in Chinese characters arrived at a lofty level that was by no mean inferior to even Chinese literature, and the prominent literary men in the early Koryŏ period would also distinguish themselves under the influence of these scholars as well.

Literature in Chinese Characters of Parhae At the same time that Silla defeated Paekche and Koguryŏ, the Parhae kingdom was founded to the north. Thus, historians refer to this time as the period of the North and South Kingdoms rather than “unified” Silla. We know that the cultural level of Parhae was as great as that of Silla by the fact that Tang China referred to Parhae as the “Great Country of the East Sea.” However, this large country with a land mass said to be five thousand ri in the four directions quickly collapsed, leaving few records. To the degree that some claim a volcanic explosion engulfed the kingdom in a single day, there are very few remains of this large country. This dearth also includes literary works, and only a few fragments are preserved in a recent compilation entitled Parhae-guk chi changbyŏn [Extensive record of the Parhae kingdom, 1934] in which Kim Yukpul collected the writings that the people of Parhae sent to either Japan or Tang China. When seeing the writings in this work, we can appreciate the sophisticated literary level of Parhae. Also, in a Japanese record, there are five poems composed by Wang Hyoryŏm, a person of Parhae. Recently, beginning with the excavation of a funerary epitaph in the tomb of Princess Chŏnghye, a few such tomb inscriptions have been unearthed, which demonstrates the literature of Parhae to be succinct yet with a large-scale continental disposition.

Narrative Literature, Interesting and Mysterious Stories The Samguk yusa and Sui-jŏn The most representative work that records tales of the Three Kingdoms period is the Samguk yusa [Memorabilia of the Three Kingdoms] compiled by the monk Iryŏn in 1281. Earlier works that also record narratives from the Three Kingdoms period include Hwarang segi [Chronicles of the hwarang], said to have been written by Kim Taemun in the early eighth century, Sui-jŏn [Tales of the bizarre] a collection of tales from the ninth through eleventh centuries and attributed to either Ch’oe Ch’iwŏn or Pak Illyang, the Samguk sagi [History of the Three Kingdoms] compiled by Kim Pusik in 1145, and Haedong kosŭng-jŏn [Lives of eminent monks of the Eastern Country (i.e., Korea)] complied by Kakhun in 1215. Hwarang segi was lost for over a millennium before reemerging some twenty years ago. Given its very shocking content, many scholars deem it a counterfeit although those holding it to be a true record are equally strong in their opinions. The original of Sui-jŏn has also been lost to time and all that remains are fragments quoted in other documents by later generations. Although the Samguk sagi is an important historical work, it does not contain an abundance of narrative tales like the Samguk yusa. Haedong kosŭng-jŏn also has been largely lost, and the only parts that have been transmitted are sketches of Buddhist monks. Thus, there is no surviving document holding narrative tales of the Three Kingdom period like the Samguk yusa. Below, a few of these tales will be examined.

A Connection to a Founding Myth of Japan, Yŏno and Seo First, we will examine the narrative concerning Yŏno and Seo, which is related to a foundation myth of Japan. On the coast of the East Sea a man named Yŏno lived with his wife, Seo. One day while Yŏno was gathering seaweed on a rock near the shore, the rock carried him off to Japan. People in Japan saw Yŏno, considered him extraordinary, and set him on the throne. Seo, missing her husband, set out to look for him and also was carried away on a rock to Japan. Thus, the husband and wife were reunited in Japan.

At that time in Silla, the sun and the moon lost their light. The government official who was in charge of astronomy informed the king that this was because Yŏno and Seo went to Japan.

Accordingly, the king of Silla ordered the couple to return. However, Yŏno responded, “How can I now return after I came to this country by the will of Heaven? Here is a fine silk cloth my wife weaved, take it and hold a ritual ceremony to the Heavens, and then things will be all right.” The envoy returned to Silla with the silk cloth and followed the instructions of Yŏno. Soon, the sun and the moon became as bright as before. This narrative is not only recorded in the Samguk yusa, but also in Sŏ Kŏjŏng’s P’ilwŏn chapki [Writing brush garden miscellany] quoting the narrative recorded in the Sui-jŏn.

A tale similar to this narrative is transmitted in a Japanese work. A Silla prince, Ch’ŏniljimo,

married a Japanese woman who was conceived by sunlight. Since the prince mistreated the woman, she crossed the ocean and returned to Japan, becoming a shrine deity. The prince followed after her to Japan, but he could not come back and had to stay in Japan because the deity of crossing the sea blocked his path home. This narrative is recorded in the Japanese history book Kojiki [Record of ancient matters]. In another Japanese history book, Nihon shoki [Chronicles of Japan], there is a record that a Silla prince Ch’ŏnilch’ang naturalized to Japan in 27 BCE. This tale is understood to show the interchange between Korea and Japan in ancient times.

Narratives of Queen Sŏndŏk and Women’s Social Status in Silla A narrative concerning Queen Sŏndŏk, recorded in both Sui-jŏn and Samguk yusa, is interesting from the aspect that it reveals clues about women’s social status at that time. A portion of the narrative informs us that Sŏndŏk ascended to the throne in 632 and governed Silla for sixteen years. During this period, Emperor Taizong (r. 626-649) of Tang China sent her three measures of peony seeds as well as a painting of red, violet, and white peonies. Queen Sŏndŏk only looked at the painting saying, “These flowers must not have any scent.” After the seeds were planted in the garden and flowered, they had no scent. Sŏndŏk knew these were scentless flowers by looking at the painting because there were no butterflies depicted.

Another narrative informs us that the sound of a frog rose from Ongmun Pond (“ongmun” carries both the meaning of jade gate and the female sexual organ) at Yŏngmyo Temple in the middle of winter. Hearing this, Sŏndŏk selected two thousand soldiers and had them search Yŏgŭn Valley (“yŏgŭn” likewise carries the meaning of the female sexual organ) and attack. Sure enough, there were some five hundred Paekche soldiers hidden in the valley, and thus their impending attack was repulsed.

A subject asked the monarch how she discovered the existence of this ambush. Sŏndŏk replied, “The angered form of a frog is in the shape of soldiers and Ongmun indicates a woman’s genitals. When reckoning by yin and yang, women are yin, and according to the principles of yin, yang, and the Five Elements, yin corresponds to the color white, and white corresponds to the west. Thus, I knew there must have been an ambush planned to the west of Kyŏngju. Moreover, if the troops were to hide, they would do so in Yŏgŭn Valley which has the same meaning as Ongmun.

Moreover, as the male genitals must die when entering into a female’s genitals, I knew the troops would be easily repulsed.” These above episodes demonstrate the wisdom of Queen Sŏndŏk.

Silla had three female monarchs: Sŏndŏk (r. 632-647), Chindŏk (r. 647-654) and Chinsŏng (r. 887-897). As there were no subsequent instances of women ascending the throne in future periods, it can be inferred that the social status of women in Silla was quite high. When we consider Sŏndŏk, who dealt with her male ministers in a dignified manner, we can see the power of women in this period. The following narrative recorded in the Sui-jŏn allows us to further appraise Sŏndŏk and her impact on others.

There was a man named Chigwi who loved the elegance and beauty of Sŏndŏk and thus lost his vigor. Hearing this, the Queen summoned him saying, “Tomorrow I will go to Yŏngmyo Temple to burn incense; wait for me there.” Chigwi did as told and eagerly awaited the honored appearance of the Queen at the temple. However, he was very tense and while waiting fell into a deep sleep. The Queen arrived at the temple and saw him in a deep sleep. She removed her bracelet, placed it on his chest, and then returned to the palace. In the heart of Chigwi, who had heartbreakingly missed his only chance to meet the Queen, a fire flared up. The fire in his heart even burned his body. Hearing this, Sŏndŏk called a wizard and had him compose an incantation.

Afterwards, the people of Silla put this incantation on their doors to prevent fires.

The King’s Ears are Donkey’s Ears The following story recorded in the Samguk yusa is an incident concerning King Kyŏngmun (r. 861-875) of Silla. Although the original source is not known, it can be considered as a tale of the Three Kingdoms period when viewing the clear periodic background. Kyŏngmun ascended the throne as a son-in-law of King Hŏnan (r. 857-861). After he took the throne, his ears suddenly began to grow longer and looked like the ears of a donkey. Since he was ashamed of his large ears, he wore a hat to hide them so that others would not know. The only one who knew the truth about the King’s ears was his hat maker. Realizing that he could not avoid death if he exposed this vulnerable point of the King, the hatter held this as a life time secret. However, as he neared his death, he could no longer endure keeping the secret and loudly shouted, “The king’s ears are donkey’s ears” in a bamboo grove near the capital. Afterwards, he felt greatly relieved after letting out this secret. With every gust of the wind, however, the hatter’s words echoed in the bamboo forest. The King greatly disliked hearing that sound and commanded that all the bamboo be cut down and that dogwood trees be planted instead. After that, whenever the wind blew, “the kings’ ears are long” was heard from the woods. This narrative is somewhat similar to a story in Aesop’s Fables.

The Martyrdom of Yi Ch’adon When receiving Buddhism from China, Koguryŏ, Paekche, and Silla could fundamentally accept this common belief system and ideology of East Asian civilization. However, reception of this foreign culture could not occur without some inevitable discord with indigenous culture. A fine illustration of the early stages of receiving Buddhism is the narrative concerning the martyrdom of Yi Ch’adon. This narrative is recorded in both the Samguk yusa and Haedong kosŭng-jŏn, both of which cited an earlier record of the event.

The narrative informs us that King Pŏphŭng (r. 514-540) wanted to disseminate Buddhism in Silla, but his ministers, emphasizing the principals of ruling the country, were against building

temples. At this time, a low ranking minister, Yi Ch’adon, petitioned the King saying, “Tell your ministers that the temples could not be built because I deceitfully delivered the King’s order to build temples. And for that crime, cut my head off. If you do so, your ministers will know your firm and deep intention and will not dare disobey your order.” Although the King initially rejected Yi’s proposal, eventually he acquiesced. Yi, like the King, desired that Buddhism be spread throughout Silla. The King gathered his ministers and demanded of them, “You ministers intentionally delayed my order to build a temple.” He then commanded that Yi Ch’adon be brought forth and decapitated. When Yi’s head was cut off, a stream of milk shot upwards several feet and his head flew far off to the top of the Kŭmgang Mountains. After this, Buddhism was widely spread throughout Silla.

The Advent of Chŏn’gi Literature, The Tale of Ch’oe Ch’iwŏn “Ch’oe Ch’iwŏn” recorded in the Sui-jŏn demonstrates that the tales at the end of Greater Silla or of early Koryŏ were not limited simply to the level of oral literature. Rather, in this period the literary arts and creations had reached the level of the chŏn’gi, or tale of wonder.

This narrative tells of the above mentioned Ch’oe Ch’iwŏn of Silla who went to Tang China, passed the government service examination, and took an official position. One day he leisurely went out to the south of the village he was posted at, and found the graves of two women side by side. Ch’oe wrote a poem on a stone gate in front of the graves and returned home. That evening while strolling around the grounds of his house using a walking stick, Ch’oe saw a beautiful woman. The woman came in front of him and gave him two red pouches. Within the pouches were poems. For the poem he composed in front of the graves, the occupant of each grave had responded with a poem in kind. Ch’oe again composed a poem—this time indicating he would like to meet the occupants of the graves. Before long, two lotus flower-like, elegant women appeared.

These two women, sisters, were daughters of a wealthy property owner; they had met unfavorable husbands and died young, filled with grief and depression. The two shared poems and liquor with Ch’oe, as well as love under a single blanket. Ch’oe shared love with these spirits and later returned to Silla. There, he wandered about the scenic mountains and rivers, eventually leaving the vulgar world behind and living like a Daoist hermit until the end of his life.

Chinese Character Literature in the Early Koryŏ Dynasty Entering the Koryŏ dynasty, literature in Chinese characters continued to experience outstanding development finally entering its golden age. The intellectual class of the six head-rank men of Silla who had studied abroad in Tang China at the end of Silla joined the new dynasty, and further, a state examination system was introduced during the reign of King Kwangjong (949-975), all of which accelerated the speed of development of literature in Chinese characters. Moreover, the number of writers increased and a group of literary men, worthy of the title of a literary circle, formed. As opportunities for producing literary works became more frequent, literary criticism appraising the quality of works and looking for theories of literary creation unfolded.

Poetry in Chinese characters (hansi) changed into the speculative and male Song style from the earlier romantic and female style of the late Tang. The use of the state examination system greatly influenced the evolution of verse. The development of prose was also outstanding. Prose in the traditional form was still written in the antithetical style. However, in addition to this, the desire for creation grew and thus literary forms such as the essay and criticism developed. The expansion of such literary forms was a heretofore never witnessed phenomenon. Finally, forms of fictional prose such as kajŏn (pseudo-biography) and chŏn’gi (tales of wonder) also developed.

Change Wrought by the Government Service Examination System In the ninth year of King Kwangjong’s reign (958) a government service examination system was implemented in Koryŏ. This was about three hundred years after it had been adopted in China.

Kwangjong introduced the examination system as a means to check the power of the landed gentry hojok) and to strengthen the authority of the central government. In fact, Kwangjong needed new men of ability who could work for the central government and thought that royal authority should be solidified by redirecting the local powers that threatened the central government.

In this early period, the intellectuals of Silla, the six head-rank men who had long desired a government service examination system even from the Silla period, positively cooperated with the system. In Silla, these men had been held back by the social rank system and not treated according to ability, and were thusly discontent. Since the government service examinations represented a type of universalism that allowed anyone possessing ability to hold a government position and used literary creative ability as a standard of evaluation, the system fully encouraged a thirst for education in Koryŏ.

The government service examination of early Koryŏ was divided into a composition examination (chesur-ŏp) that evaluated writing ability, a Classics examination (myŏnggyŏng-ŏp based on knowledge of the Confucian Classics, and a miscellaneous examination (chap-ŏp) for other technical service personnel. The composition examination was viewed as the most important and conducted in three sections. Subjects examined in the composition exam were poetry, prose, and a form of memorial to the throne (simuch’aek). Accordingly, those who desired to learn how to create

poems and prose markedly increased in Koryŏ.

The individual with the highest marks in the uppermost division was given the title of changwŏn to signify his achievement. In the examination system of Koryŏ, someone with the position of examiner (chikonggŏ) supervised the examination and exercised absolute power in regards to the exams. This was a highly respected position that only a senior individual with excellent scholarly credentials could hold. The fact that Koryŏ’s literary men considered it an ideal to pass the government service examination, to be appointed examiner and to produce many exam passers under one’s guidance meant the influence and power of this position was great.

Despite the political intent behind creating an examination system in Koryŏ, this nonetheless contributed greatly to elevating the level of Chinese character literature. Thus, writing poetry and prose became an essential aspect of the culture of intellectuals, and the literary men of Koryŏ felt no inconvenience in conveying their thoughts through a Chinese writing system. The development of literature in Chinese characters as such brought about a relative stagnation of literature written in Korean forms. Although Koryŏ kayo (popular songs) were sung in palace performances, in a situation where Chinese writing was used without difficulty, there were no scholars who would record Korean literature through problematic processes such as the hyangch’al writing system.

The Establishment of the Kukhak and Development of Private Schools Early after introducing the government service examination system, it was necessary to pay attention to the educational system in order to allow the new system to establish itself, and further, to attract the children of the landed gentry class into the system. In 992, a countrywide educational institute, the Kukchagam (National college) was established. King Sŏngjong (r. 981-997) called forth the children of local government officials to be educated, sent instructors to outlying districts to teach, and greatly consolidated the national educational system. However, as there was only one government educational institute, the explosive demand for education could not be well accommodated.

Consequently, from the reign of King Munjong (1046-1083) there arose private educational institutions. The class who had successfully sat for the government service examination and held government positions, independently gathered the children of their own family or those close to their family and conducted an even higher level of instruction than did the government sponsored educational institution.

Private schools filled the gaps that the government educational institution could not meet.

The most representative of the private schools was Munhŏn’gong-do (Disciples of Master Munhŏn) established by Ch’oe Ch’ung (984-1068, pen name, Munhŏn) who had served as a royal instructor.

So many students tried to enter this school that they clogged the area in front of its main gate. The school boasted a large curricula composed of nine levels according to student aptitude. There was even a saying that one could not pass the government examination unless they entered this school. In this way, Munhŏn’gong-do developed as a prestigious private school of Koryŏ. Every summer, the

seniors of this school who had already passed the state examination came and lodged together to receive intensive training for the examination, which well explains the systematic educational programs this school possessed.

The private school founded by Ch’oe Ch’ung caused huge reverberations in Koryŏ society.

Following this model, other nobles who held high official positions established private schools as well and nurtured their own groups of disciples. Within time, there were some eleven private schools in Kaesŏng, the capital of Koryŏ. This activity demonstrates how the government service examination— based on knowledge of literature in Chinese characters—increased the demand for education countrywide.

Private schools thrived partially because the public educational institute, the Kukchagam, was nominal in the aspect of facilities as well as its educational content. Further, the characteristics of the government examination in Koryŏ where the influence of the examiner (chikonggŏ) was absolute also had an impact in the development of private schools. The authority of private schools gradually increased and subsequently these schools functioned as preparatory schools for the government service examinations. However, in late Koryŏ private schools became highly factional and functioned negatively. There were even abuses such as not sitting for the examination but nonetheless receiving a government appointment.

The prosperity of private schools resulted in lowering the status of, and weakening, public education, and increasing the power of aristocratic lineages; they ultimately became so powerful as to threaten the royal authority. During the reigns of kings Sukchong (1095-1105) and Yejong (11051122) there was an attempt to strengthen the governmental education institution with the establishment of a type of scholarship system known as the Yanghyŏn’go (Fund for nurturing worthies). Moreover, various research institutes were founded as an attempt to stimulate study away from home. However, neither of these innovations was particularly successful.

The literary men of Koryŏ enjoyed a very affluent lifestyle based on the stability of social status. One result of this was that the content of their literature shifted to themes of merrymaking and pleasure seeking. However, viewing this from the aspect of literature, it cannot be denied that the introduction of a government examination system and the growth of private schools brought about an epoch-making development in the capacity of literary creation never before witnessed.

Literary Rivals, Chŏng Chisang and Kim Pusik In early Koryŏ, literature was first led by those who had studied abroad in Tang China and then subsequently by people naturalized from China. However, as the number of individuals who had passed the government service examinations steadily increased, the base of the literary circle gradually became diffuse. Also, as cultural exchanges with Song China were more active, various voices even in the philosophical world came forward.

There was an invisible discord between the intellectuals rooted in the former Silla capital of

Kyŏngju and of those in the T’aebong faction based in Kaesŏng. The discord between these two cliques even reached the level of an ideological confrontation between Confucianism and Daoism or indigenous beliefs. Kim Pusik (1074-1151) and Chŏng Chisang (?-1135) were the representative literary men of these two groups of intellectuals. Kim compiled the Samguk sagi, the representative historical work of Koryŏ, based on a thorough acceptance of Confucianism. Chŏng was the best poet of the period and had outstanding capacity in all forms of poetic creation. He joined the movement to relocate the seat of government from the capital city of Kaesŏng to the Western Capital (P’yŏngyang) led by the monk Myoch’ŏng (?-1135) and was ultimately killed by Kim. In many critical writings of Koryŏ, the appearance of the discord surrounding these two men’s poetry and prose are elaborated upon in tales. One example tells that since Chŏng had composed an exceedingly excellent poem, Kim asked Chŏng to give it to him. Of course, Chŏng did not allow this. Kim was greatly jealous of Chŏng’s superior talent and thus concocted a false charge against Chŏng and had him executed. Another story tells that after Chŏng’s death, Kim had a poetic inspiration while using the privy and composed a poem. As he was writing his poem, the ghost of Chŏng appeared and pointed out an incorrect expression in Kim’s poem. Chŏng’s ghost then grabbed hold of Kim’s genitals and would not release his grip, causing Kim to die also.

Such stories recorded in the critical writings of the period were written down and transmitted by the men of those times to show how different the two writer’s literary and ideological orientations were and because Kim had killed Chŏng. Yet, paradoxically, these narratives show just how active and diverse was the literary circle of the time. The fact that Chŏng, who enjoyed composing beautiful and lyrical poems of the late Tang style and kept with the literary style of early Koryŏ, was killed by Kim, a Confucianist who strictly adhered to a positive and realistic line, is an event that symbolically exposes one current of change in literature.

After the introduction of the government examination system, Koryŏ became solidified as a society based on aristocratic lineages that only admired literature, and called for literary indulgence to the neglect of military arts. The literary men simply sought enjoyment and fashioned splendid and delicate literary works. The pursuit of literature by the aristocratic society of early Koryŏ as such eventually caused a rebellion by the military subjects that resulted in the tragic massacre of many aristocratic literary men. Before the rebellion, however, there were a great number of literary men in addition to Kim and Chŏng, and their many works were of excellent quality.

A Shift and Change in the Class Charged with Literature Entering the twelfth century, the discord in the governing class of Koryŏ deepened. Such discord was manifested in rebellions led by men such as the aforementioned Myoch’ŏng and also Yi Chagyŏm (?-1126). Despite the political strife, the monopolistic power of the aristocratic lineages continued. Due to this situation, the military men, discontent with the mistreatment and contempt they received from the literary class, rebelled against the systemic discrimination and carried out a coup in

1170.

This coup took place when the king left the royal palace on a hunting trip for a few days.

The military men indiscriminately massacred the literary men, vowing to leave not even one alive to carry on their line. After the coup, although the leading power of the military changed many times, the military government continued for one hundred years and monopolized the political power of Koryŏ.

The result of this incident was that the structure that allowed the aristocratic lineages to rule collapsed and the social system also experienced major changes. Consequently, the class holding domain over literature changed as did the atmosphere of the literary circle.

Due to the military coup, literature became more active rather than diminished, a situation that can be said to be paradoxical. The military men who seized power soon realized that they could not long hold power without the aid of the literary men. From the rule of Ch’oe Ch’unghŏn (11491219) on, the government service examination system was restored. During this time the treatment of literary men significantly improved and in the dimension of political power there was full-scale appeasement and inclusion of these men.

In such a process, the aristocratic lineages that had controlled the literary circle since early Koryŏ rapidly collapsed, and literary men from outlying regions or of the small-scale landholder class advanced to the central political world. These men are known as the newly-risen literati class (sinhŭng sadaebu). Due to the entrance of this new group, the formalistic literary style that pursued only poetic magnificence soaked with subservience to China was on the ebb. Even under an oppressive political situation, these men tried to reestablish medieval values and sought a new literary language that expressed the reality before their eyes. These new literary talents turned their eyes to reality and put effort into realistic and progressive literary creations. They newly opened their minds to the role of literature in history and society, and tried to find new forms of expression carrying their unique characteristics. Such enthusiasm extended to ongoing critical activities.

In the thirteenth century the Mongol people invaded Koryŏ. This period of prolonged struggle resulted in the entire country being trampled and the lives of the people becoming extremely distressed. Literary men confronted this hardship, reappraised and recast the role of literature in society, sought to understand reality through literature, and thus gained strength to overcome adversities.

Chungnim Kohoe and Yi Kyubo Literary men such as Yi Illo, O Sejae, and Im Ch’un, all descendents of aristocratic lineages, could have continued their successful lives except for the military rebellion. However, the military coup instantly deprived them of all the things they had enjoyed. Yi Illo, to save his life, shaved his head and became a monk so as to hide himself in the deep mountains for several years, and men like O Sejae and Im Ch’un lived in miserable poverty, some even starving to death. Chungnim kohoe (High society of the bamboo grove) is an appellation for the group of literary men of the suddenly collapsed

aristocratic lineages that cast aside politics and reclaimed their lives amidst nature. While lamenting the political reality where the possibility of actually gaining power was blocked, they suffered in a space between their excellent abilities and the reality which could not support them.

Yi Illo was representative of this deposed group although he later succeeded in gaining a government post. He composed the first work of literary criticism in Korea, P’ahan-jip [Collection to dispel leisure], which suggested the absolute value of literature and provided concrete examples in shaping and creating literary expressions. This important work became a spark in the growth of critical literary works in Koryŏ.

Im Ch’un died young, in his thirties. Suffering alienation in the gap between reality and ideals in ghastly poverty, his writings manifest traces of seeking to overcome these hardships through literary creation. His pseudo-biographies (kajŏn) such as Kongbang-jŏn [Fortunes of Master Coin] and Kuksun-jŏn [Tale of wine] were works that symbolically showed the circumstances of his reliance on liquor in order to survive a life of dire poverty.

Literary men of the Chungnim kohoe filled the chasm that resulted when the aristocratic lineages collapsed after the military coup and filled the role of banner-bearers until the advent of the newly-risen literati class. Since the world had changed, they could not revive or revert to the past literature of the aristocratic class. Instead, they turned their eyes to reality and critiqued it, thus gaining a new cognition of the function of literature.

Although Yi Kyubo (1168-1241) was junior to the literary men of the Chungnim kohoe, he was nonetheless quite close to them. However, Yi spurned their encouragement to participate in the Chungnim kohoe and rather became a leader of the newly-risen literati that came to the fore after the military coup. His literary collection, Tongguk Yi Sangguk-jip [Collected works of Minister Yi of the Eastern country], records some 2,500 of his works. Yi created epic poems such as “Tongmyŏng wang-p’yŏn” [The lay of King Tongmyŏng], which retells the life of Chumong, the founder of Koguryŏ, and inspired an independent view of history as well as an ethnic consciousness. Also, through his numerous hansi (poems in Chinese characters), he demonstrates a conscious resistance that paints a picture of the impoverished lives of the people of Koryŏ under Mongol rule.

The transition from the Chungnim kohoe to Yi Kyubo serves as the boundary between early and late Koryŏ literature. About this same time, new poets such as Kim Kŭkki made their literary debuts that resulted in a new era of literary creation. The changed circumstances in the literary world after the military coup and the recognition of realism in literature of the newly-risen literati continued through late Koryŏ to early Chosŏn.

The Meeting of History and Literature, Historical Poem-songs and Biographies Literary Features of the Biographies in the Samguk sagi In the Koryŏ period there were not yet a great number of individual literary collections published. Rather, the literature of this period was mainly in the form of historical works. The official history compilation of the Koryŏ period was the Samguk sagi, compiled under royal edict by Kim Pusik in 1145. This work was created as the Koryŏ dynasty entered a stable period and thus there was a perceived need to arrange the history of the previous age. Like other history books, the Samguk sagi also carries its own unique view of history, and was written, based on fact as much as possible, in the way an official history book of a country ought to be.

However, the Samguk sagi does not simply present flavorless facts based on historical incidents. As amply demonstrated by the Shiji [Records of the historian] compiled by Sima Qian (?

145-86 BCE), the standard for East Asian historical compilations was that the best historical work was also the best literary work. The Samguk sagi was critical towards earlier historical works that were rough and awkward. This work pursued a high literary standard so as to be able to cope with such future criticism itself.

The literary accomplishments of the Samguk sagi are especially well illustrated in its biographical entries. Since the biographies in the Shiji, biographies had been held as an important genre that engagingly described the various personages of past times. In general, biographies were not overly concerned with fact and even incorporated folktales to create a satisfying and interesting narrative flow. The Samguk sagi adhered to such a tradition and thus records many interesting narratives. The biography section of the Samguk sagi takes up a full ten fascicles of the work, onefifth of the entire book.

At the outset of the biography section, Kim Yusin, the great military leader of Silla who played a key role in the defeat of Koguryŏ and Paekche, is introduced. The narratives concerning Kim were copious—accounting for three fascicles of the Samguk sagi. This is not only because he was a very important individual, but also because his descendents had written a great number of narratives concerning him. Most episodes related to Kim are filled with historical facts. However, his lively activities during the battles with Koguryŏ and Paekche are very realistically described. As such, stories which could not be interestingly written concerning actualities in the annals (pon’gi, at the beginning of the work), were freely written in the biography section of the same work.

The Fool Ondal and Princess P’yŏnggang “Ondal” is one work among the biographies in the Samguk sagi that received excellent appraisals by later generations with high literary standards. Just like the stories concerning Kim

Yusin, it is highly possible that “Ondal” also was based on another earlier document, and that the subject matter of the story originated from Koguryŏ. However, since we can understand that Kim Pusik altered the narrative style and structure, it is considered as literature of the Koryŏ period and introduced here.

Ondal lived during the reign of King P’yŏng’wŏn (559-590) of Koguryŏ. He looked stupid and became an object of ridicule. People called him Idiot Ondal, but his heart was kind. Although he was extremely poor, he was always filial to his mother, even attending her by borrowing food from others. On the other hand, King P’yŏng’wŏn had a young daughter who always cried. The King jokingly told her, “A crying baby like you will be sent to Idiot Ondal for marriage.” When the princess grew older, the King intended to marry her to an aristocrat, but she brought up his talk of past days. She told him that a King was not supposed to joke; the King became enraged and she fled the palace to marry Ondal.

Although the Princess went to Ondal’s house and expressed a desire to marry him, his family could not believe her words. They could not fathom that a princess of the royal family would want to wed the poor village idiot Ondal. Yet with the continued strong persuasion of the Princess, eventually she and Ondal were married. The Princess sold the gold ring that she had brought from the palace and bought land, a house, and furniture. When they were buying their first horse, she instructed Ondal not to buy a merchant’s horse but rather an animal that had fallen ill and grown gaunt among the ones raised by government. Ondal bought a lean animal as instructed and raised it with the utmost diligence. The horse he bought inexpensively gained weight and became healthier day by day. When Ondal rode that same horse in a hunting event sponsored by the king, he demonstrated greater ability than any other.

At that time, Emperor Wu of the Chinese Northern Zhou kingdom raised an army and attacked Koguryŏ through the Liaodong peninsula. Ondal was the spearhead of an advance and distinguished himself in battle. Thus, the king finally received Ondal as his son-in-law. Ondal won many other battles as well. At that time there were battles against Silla and while fighting below Adan Fortress, Ondal was struck by an enemy arrow and died. When his funeral was about to be held, however, his coffin would not move. Only after the Princess came forth and lay her hands on the coffin in an act of persuasion did the coffin finally move and allow itself to be buried.

The Annals of the Samguk sagi and the Narrative of Prince Hodong The Ondal narrative is very much like a folktale from the aspect of the marriage between a royal princess and a poor village idiot. Moreover, the narrative feature of an idiot becoming a great commander and distinguishing himself in many ways is quite dramatic. The episode of the unmoving coffin after the death of the protagonist at the close of the narrative is often seen in heroic mythology.

Hence, the biographies of the Samguk sagi can be said not to fully adhere to facts, to have borrowed from folktales, and to positively shape personages.

The tale-like imaginative power of the Samguk sagi is not only present in the biographies (although the materialization of this power elsewhere is somewhat weak). Even in the annals (pon’gi), which are strongly based on historical facts, such folktale-like narratives are found. Below we will examine the narrative concerning Prince Hodong. This narrative, used as literary material even to the present time, is recorded in the biography of King Taemusin in the Koguryŏ section of the Samguk sagi.

In the fourth month of the fifteenth year of King Taemusin (32 CE), Prince Hodong was sightseeing in Okchŏ, and met the ruler, Ch’oe Ri, of Lolang by chance. Ch’oe gazed upon Hodong’s outstanding appearance and took him as his son-in-law. Hodong, now returned to Koguryŏ, had his wife, a princess of Lolang, send someone to smash the most important treasures of Lolang, a drum and flute made of horn. These were mysterious instruments that played by themselves whenever an enemy attacked Lolang.

The Princess could not disobey her husband, and thus, betraying her own country, tore the drum and cut the horn flute in half. Meanwhile, King Taemusin attacked Lolang, which surrendered.

However, Hodong did not live for long either. As he became more favored by the King, his Queen grew jealous of him, as Hodong was not her son, but one from a secondary wife. The Queen worried that Hodong might ascend the throne rather than her own son, and cast suspicions on him.

Hodong did not challenge the accusations of the Queen, as it would implicate her if he did so.

Although the Queen was not his mother by blood, she should be respected as the wife of his father.

Thus, it would have been unfilial of Hodong to save himself at her expense. Thus, in the eleventh month of the year, Hodong threw his body on a knife and killed himself.

The Samguk sagi and the Samguk yusa In many respects, the Samguk yusa, compiled by the Monk Iryŏn in 1281, is a work that contrasts with the Samguk sagi. While the Sagi is an official history of the country, the Yusa is an unofficial history; moreover, the Sagi is Confucian in its ideological stance, while the Yusa is Buddhist. The Sagi has strong historical features and the Yusa is a more literary and folktale-like compilation. Notable in the Yusa are the many mysterious and fantastic narratives it records. This is because the Yusa holds many valuable narratives that were based in Buddhism or even seemed irrational and thus were rejected by the compiler of the Sagi. It is for this reason that the Yusa is deemed every bit as valuable as the Sagi.

It is not correct to view the narratives in the Yusa as being groundless simply because they are extraordinary. The compiler of the Yusa utilized numerous literary documents and records concerning history, Buddhism, and folktales as well as older records, funeral steles, and so on.

Furthermore, the compiler of the Yusa critically and seriously evaluated the documents that he used in his compilation. Although some of the narratives might be illogical, the compiler used a rational writing method of selecting only those works which had clear sources.

History Manifested in Literature, “Tongmyŏng wang-p’yŏn” and Chewang un’gi Literature, as such, materialized its own world through historical descriptions. However, some literary works also hold history. The Mongol invasion in mid-Koryŏ became an important point for retrospection of history, and literary works interpreting the country’s history in verse appeared. Representative examples are “Tongmyŏng wang-p’yŏn” [The lay of King Tongmyŏng] and Chewang un’gi [Songs of emperors and kings].

“Tongmyŏng wang-p’yŏn” is an epic narrative poem written in Chinese characters by Yi Kyubo (1168-1241). The subject of the poem is the Myth of Chumong, the foundation myth of Koguryŏ. Yi wrote in the preface to the poem, “There are many people in this world who speak of King Tongmyŏng, the founder of Koguryŏ. Earlier I heard of the story that it was absurd and odd, and thus considered it not worthy of mention. However, recently I obtained the Ku Samguk sa [Older version of the history of the Three Kingdoms] and read of the achievements of King Tongmyŏng. The record of his mysterious activities exceeds the tales that people have spoken.

Initially, I considered this to all be fabricated fiction, but after reading it many times, I realized it was divine. The tale of King Tongmyŏng was not intended to dazzle people’s eyes with mysterious episodes. Since it was a sacred trace of the one who first founded the country, what could later generations understand if this was not written down? Thus, with this poem I intend to make it known that our country was originally the country of a sage.”

The achievements of Tongmyŏng, oftentimes abbreviated in other records, were described in even more detail by Yi. Additionally, he supplemented some insignificant parts by adding annotations to his writing. Yi wrote, “There must have been auspicious incidents when a king founds a country.” By not eliminating elements only because they seemed mysterious and by highlighting the achievements of Chumong to a greater extent than others, Yi raised the status of Koguryŏ to the utmost.

Chewang un’gi is a long poem in Chinese characters composed by Yi Sŭnghyu in 1287.

The poem consists of two fascicles in one book, the first fascicle covering Chinese history and the second holding the history of Korea. This is indeed a history written in poetry. Yi composed this work during the period when the Mongols, now the Yuan dynasty, ruled Koryŏ. Yi had been dismissed from officialdom after he criticized the pro-Yuan powers and the poor administration of the country during the reign of King Ch’ungnyŏl (1274-1308). In this period when the ethnic pride of the Koryŏ people greatly suffered, Yi sought to elevate the status of the country through his poems. While stating that the Chinese, who elevated themselves as Chunghwa (i.e., the “center civilization”), even referred to the people of Koryŏ as the “Small Chunghwa,” Yi stressed that Koreans had an independent history distinct from that of China.

Concretely demonstrating such a stance, Yi wrote that Korean history began with Tan’gun.

Such a viewpoint was distinguished from the notion that the beginning of Korean history was from

the time of Kija. The Kija legend holds that Kija, a government official of China, fled from China to the Korean peninsula and founded a country. This contention is not something that can be accepted from either a historical or archeological point of view. However to the Confucianists who looked to China as a center of culture, the narrative of a Chinese government official fleeing to the Korean peninsula and founding a country indicated that Korea was as equally a cultured country as China.

For this reason, the tendency to consider Kija as the beginning of Korean history rather than Tan’gun was strong in the Chosŏn period when Confucianism was taken as the governing ideology.

Yi further acknowledged that Parhae was the country that succeeded Koguryŏ. By describing the situation that the governing class of Parhae had submitted to the founder of the Koryŏ dynasty, he for the first time included Parhae in the history of Korea. From such a viewpoint, although there is a certain degree of difference, literary works such as “Tongmyŏng wang-p’yŏn,” Chewang un’gi, and the Samguk yusa resulted from a literary crisis arising from social turmoil flowing from the military coup, the Mongol invasions, and being governed by another country.

Popular Songs of Koryŏ, the Dreams and Loves of the People With the foundation of Koryŏ and the establishment of a government service examination system, literature in classical Chinese began to develop on a full scale. Hyangga, on the other hand, gradually declined and thus poetry and songs written in Korean tended not to be recorded and reverted to the ancient practice of oral transmission. Accordingly, songs of Koryŏ have not been wholly transmitted. It was only after the creation of han’gŭl, the Korean script, in the Chosŏn period, that a few of the Koryŏ songs were recorded in documents such as Akhak kwebŏm [Canon of music], Akchang kasa [Words for songs and music], and Siyong hyangak po [Scores of contemporary local (i.e., Korean) music]. From the point that these works are all music books, the Koryŏ songs transmitted to Chosŏn do not reflect all the songs of the period, but mostly the palace music of the Koryŏ period.

After the foundation of Chosŏn, the Confucian literati who compiled the music of Koryŏ found the straightforward and liberal songs unethical and vulgar. Accordingly, based on the principle of “songs with lewd lyrics are not recorded,” many songs of the Koryŏ period vanished from history. The few songs extant today are those that fortuitously passed censorship and survived.

The term Koryŏ sogyo (popular songs of Koryŏ) generally indicates songs composed in Korean, excluding kyŏnggich’e-ga (Kyŏnggi-style songs), of the Koryŏ period. Accordingly, it is in general difficult to view Koryŏ sogyo as having a singular form or general characteristics. In regards to form, these songs can be largely divided into single and multiple stanza songs. “Chŏngŭp-sa” [Song of Chŏngŭp], “Chŏng Kwajŏng-gok” [Song of Chŏng Kwajŏng], “Samo-gok” [Maternal love], and “Kasiri” [Do you leave?] are all of the single stanza variety, while “Sŏgyŏng pyŏlgok” [Song of the Western capital], “Ch’ŏngsan pyŏlgok” [Song of the green mountains], “Ssanghwa-jŏm” [Dumpling shop], and “Manjŏnch’un” [Spring overflows the pavilion] are all of the multiple stanza variety with a unique refrain phrase. In general, each line was composed of three segments (ŭmbo), but sometimes lines with four segments are mixed in.

In these songs, we can see the various sentiments of the Koryŏ people such as love, sexual relations between men and women, criticism of the chaotic social circumstances, the wishes of farmers, and the joys and sorrows of life. This is because the roots of these songs reach as deep as folk songs although they were eventually transmitted as songs of the royal palace.

The Pain of Separation and Joy of Love “Kasiri” and “Sŏgyŏng pyŏlgok” are representative works telling of the hardships of separation. However, the female voice in these songs is not that of a passive character resigned to loss or of one who has abandoned hope. To their lovers who had abandoned the speakers, these female voices sing strongly of heartbreaking and sorrowful emotions. The narrator of “Kasiri,” although she wanted to hold her lover back being afraid he would never return, for a moment she let him leave, but

also told him to come back soon. She did not allow her lover to leave in a negative way, but rather passionately voiced her feelings.

“Sŏgyŏng pyŏlgok” moves even further than “Kasiri.” From the first stanza, the female narrator states that she would leave her hometown, abandon her livelihood of weaving, and come with her lover as long as he would love her. In the second stanza the female speaker pledges that her love for him will last forever: “Although the bead were to fall on the rock/ would the string break? / Although we part for a thousand years/ would our trust cease?” However in the third stanza, she passionately speaks of her uneasy feelings of jealousy and rancor that she might be betrayed by her loved one. In this manner “Sŏgyŏng pyŏlgok” delicately captures the ardent feelings and struggles of a woman facing separation. Such a positive image of women was possible because it contains the lives of the people in Koryŏ who were forced to endure endless separations over the Taedong River.

“Manjŏnch’un pyŏlsa” expresses the joy of love, not a sadness of separation. From the first line, “On a mat of bamboo upon the ice/ Were I to freeze to death together with my love/ I pray the night of our shared love slowly breaks,” the tone of the speaker’s voice is very strong. As long as she could continue to share love with her lover, she did not mind even being freezing to death. However, the fire-like love does not last for long. The mood of the song soon shifts to a lonesome night she sorrowfully passes, and in the second through fourth stanzas she heartbreakingly states her love to her already departed lover building up to the fifth stanza where she dreams of a rapturous reunion with her lover. It is not easy to candidly express the joy and passion of love to this extent. Here we can find a healthy eroticism that reaffirms the universal emotions and desires of humans.

Besides the above songs, works such as “Chŏngsŏk-ka” [Song of the gong and chimes] and “Tongdong” [Ode on the seasons] can be counted as songs of love. In “Chŏngsŏk-ka,” a steadfast love is pledged to a lover while enumerating every sort of impossibility, and in “Tongdong,” yearning for a loved one and lonesomeness are spoken of according to the seasonal divisions of the year. Such songs originated from folksongs, but subsequently were introduced to the palace through court musicians or government kisaeng (female entertainers) and transmitted as palace music.

There could be many reasons for these songs being brought to the royal palace, but it seems closely related to the fact that the kings of late Koryŏ, who were subjected to the demands of the Yuan dynasty, enjoyed riotous feasts. The more the depraved kings enjoyed banquets and feasts, the more ministers near the kings sought to find interesting and provocative folksongs to gain the kings’ favor. In this process, the healthy features of folksongs were lost and more often than not sexual debauchery was revealed. “Ssanghwa-jŏm” is the best example of this.

“Ssanghwa-jŏm” consisting of four stanzas is a work of the reign of King Ch’ungnyŏl (12741308). Ch’ungnyŏl, often cited as one of the most dissipated kings of Koryŏ, greatly enjoyed hunting, feasting, woman, and music. A record concerning this song informs us that retainers also had this song performed by kisaeng disguised as men in order to gain the King’s favor. The lyrics of this song take the form of a refrain telling of the same type incident in each stanza although the scene of the action shifts from a dumpling shop, a temple, a well, and to a wine shop. The song features two female

narrators. The first voice states that she had sexual relations—although she did not consent—with a series of men: a Turkish dumpling shop owner, the abbot of a temple, a dragon in a well, and a vintner.

The other voice then repeats, at the conclusion of each stanza, “I too will go to that place to sleep.”

“Ssanghwa-jŏm” is a satire of the corrupted society at the end of Koryŏ through the four spots where the disordered sexual relations occurred. From this aspect, the sexual love in this song is qualitatively distinguished from the healthy eroticism of the works examined above. Initially, this type of song was created by people to satirize the immoral and corrupt life of the upper class aristocrats.

However, when introduced to the palace, lewdness instead of such satire was heightened and it was used to fill the sexual desire and delights of those in the royal palace.

Difficult Life Amidst War By the mid-Koryŏ period, turmoil was continual from events like the military coup and the Mongol invasions. Accordingly the lives of the people were in a state of one hardship after another.

They were conscripted into armies to participate in battles, forcibly separated from their loved ones, and in addition driven off their land. Nonetheless, the people did not lose their dreams about work and simple life even in such pain. “Chŏngŭp-sa,” “Ch’ŏngsan pyŏlgok,” and “Sangjŏ-ga” [Song of the pestle] are songs reflecting such beliefs.

“Chŏngŭp-ga” is a song that tells of a peddler’s wife who lived in Chŏngŭp and who scaled a lofty peak to pray for her husband’s safe return; the husband went to the market but had not returned even by very late at night. We can feel the joys and sorrows of a people who had to live day after hardship-filled day in the voice of the narrator who pleas with the bright moon to shed light wherever her husband might be.

The joys and sorrows echoed in “Ch’ŏngsan pyŏlgok” are even deeper. This song has eight stanzas, each followed with a cheery and beautiful refrain of “yalli yalli yallangsyŏng yallari yalla.”

Yet, unlike the sentiment of the refrain, the content of the lyrics is quite melancholy. The first stanza of the song informs, I shall live, I shall live indeed,Indeed, I shall live in green mountains.Eating wild grapes and silvervine,Indeed, I shall live in green mountains.

While the sixth stanza tells, I shall live, I shall live indeed, Indeed, I shall live by the sea.

Eating laver and clams, Indeed, I shall live by the sea.

The narrator of this song was reduced to the situation of living in the mountains eating wild grapes and silvervine or near a sea eating shellfish and seaweed. This situation occurred because the narrator had become a wandering nomad after driven away from his own living area. The gaze of a wandering nomad, forlornly looking at fields and a moss-covered plow, is the core content of

“Ch’ŏnsan pyŏlgok.” In this line, we can understand the dream of returning home to again plow the land someday.

Sangjŏ-ga” is a type of work song people sang when pounding a mortar with a pestle. This is transmitted even today with the title of “Panga t’aryŏng” [Ballad of the mortar]. The contents of these lyrics tell that one will diligently pound a mortar and prepare food for the parents, and after the parents ate the warm food the speaker would also eat only if there were anything left. The dreams and affectionate voices of the Koryŏ people—poor but warm-hearted—thoroughly permeate this song.

Literary Criticism in Koryŏ After the military coup, literary criticism became more active as those at the lead of literature changed and the literary circle was enlarged. Literary criticism first appeared from the necessity of distinguishing jade from stone when studying literature. To do so, a fundamental assumption was that the base of literary creation should be as broad as the metaphor of jade and stone. The desire to distinguish between the genuine and inauthentic, or the good and bad among seemingly similar works was manifested as a form of criticism.

Of course such a recognition concerning good and bad was not the same to everyone or to all ages. Also in such recognition, individual notions about the role and function of literature are present. Furthermore, an accumulation of useful experiences related to literary creations was needed if actual criticism was to occur. At this time the literary men in Koryŏ organized literary groups like the aforementioned Chungnim kohoe and actively debated their writings and exchanged opinions. In addition to that, works of literary theory from China were introduced, adding greatly to the development of literary criticism and its cognition.

The result of this new awareness lead to works such as P’ahan-jip [Collection to dispel leisure] by Yi Illo, Pohan-jip [Supplementary jottings in idleness] by Ch’oe Cha, Paegun sosŏl [Notes on writing by Paegun] by Yi Kyubo, and Yŏgong p’aesŏl [Jottings by Old Man Oak] by Yi Chehyŏn. These books amply demonstrate the standards of and the main focus of literary criticism in Koryŏ. Yi Illo especially emphasized the importance of utilizing precedent in poetry creation, and Yi Kyubo repeatedly stressed the pursuit of new meaning and individuality. These works were at the van of literary criticism in Korea. However, most of the actual content of these works introduced various background episodes related to the creation of literary works or stories connected to some great works, rather than fundamental criticism.

P’ahan-jip of Yi Illo The title of P’ahan-jip indicates writings that were composed to pass time. While this seems a humble intent, most of the work’s content is episodes related to poetry or criticism of poems, with some discussion of writers and their writing theories and general ideology. This work was first published in 1260 and consists of three fascicles recording more than three hundred different works.

The work includes episodes related to famous poets and poetry, criticism of various works, and stories about folklore and cultural systems. Many of the writings are of the essay type. Yi emphasized detailed and comprehensive features in expression, and denounced the practice of blindly following others in creating literature. He held that literary men should inherit the accomplishments and fruits of earlier generations, but should also open their own and new literary ground. Yi wrote that literature had inherent value as literature, not only as a device utilized out of necessity by government officials in past days. From many aspects, Yi well captured the atmosphere of the literary circle of that

time which was transforming its fundamental nature from a political appendage to one that focused on literary creations with independent value.

P’ahan-jip holds stories related to the creations of famous literary men of the day, essential points on creating certain poetic forms, the difficulties of literary creation, and correct attitude that beginners in poetry should possess. Noteworthy is that Yi introduces the poetic theory of Huang Shangu of the Song dynasty. This theory held that one should study carefully the poetic works of earlier generations and then use this base to create new expressions. Through such a method, Yi contended that one should be able to fashion new poetic meanings that those of past ages could not have expressed to the same extent. This work thus offers the present day researcher a valuable source for understanding the actual creative circumstances for literary works in the Koryŏ dynasty.

Paegun sosŏl of Yi Kyubo Yi Kyubo was a literatus antithetical to Yi Illo in many aspects. Yi Illo was in a position of concluding the age of earlier literature, while Yi Kyubo was leading a new wave of literature. Paegun sosŏl is a collection of his writings on poetry that is recorded in Sihwa ch’ongnim [Comprehensive collections of essays on poetry] compiled by Hong Manjong of the Chosŏn period. Paegun sosŏl is not a work actually compiled by Yi Kyubo, but rather a body of writings that Hong Manjong culled from Yi’s literary collection.

In this work Yi retells many interesting stories relating to poetry along with critiques through both metaphor and concrete explanations. Yi was clear in his stance on literature. He wrote, “In poetry, meaning is most important. It is most difficult to blossom meanings, and creating beautiful writing is the next task. Also, in meaning, ki (spirit, vigor) is considered best.” Yi believed that poets should endeavor to study poetic foundations, but not techniques of expression. First is a righteous mind and then excellent expression. To create a righteous mind, Yi held that one should cultivate his ki.

Yi strongly opposed those poets who did not strive to study poetic foundations, and rather imitated the ancients only after seeking techniques of expression, and plagiarized the poems of others.

For Yi, plagiarism was tantamount to stealing; the shortcut for creating an excellent work was in not using pedantic and difficult expressions, but rather fashioning an original writing by practically using daily language.

The episode entitled “Ku sima-mun” [Writing to drive away a poetry ghost] is an account of what Yi imaginatively discussed with a ghost of poetry which caused him to compose poems no matter what. In this writing, he paradoxically discusses the privilege of poets that required them to fully voice their aspirations in their poems—regardless if others appreciate him or not—to disclose the secrets of the world, and to discover the hidden meanings of matters.

Additionally, Yi truly opened up full-scale literature criticism through many writings recorded in his literary collection. In particular, “Nonsi” [Treatise on poetry] was a poem of poetics that commented on poetry in the form of a poem. Yi writes in this work that the most important

aspect of poetry was harmony and beauty in both expression and meaning. He often stated that poems were only superficial ornaments no matter how beautiful the expression unless there was meaning, and fiercely criticized the literary men of his time that only sought ornamentation and expressional techniques.

Pohan-jip of Ch’oe Cha Pohan-jip, written by Ch’oe Cha (1188-1260) was so titled as it was intended as a supplement to Yi Illo’s P’ahan-jip. It consists of three fascicles and records a total of 147 entries covering topics such as critiques of poetry, discussion on general poetic creations, and episodes behind the creation of poems. On the whole, poetic criticism accounts for the highest portion. However, the content is relatively diverse since Ch’oe recorded many episodes concerning important literary and historical personages from the Silla period through Koryŏ; moreover, the work also includes narratives of scenic locales and places of historical interest, along with folk customs and folktales.

Ch’oe wrote, “Writing is like a door to move forward to a correct way. Thus, irreverent expressions must not be used. However sometimes unruly and mystical expressions cannot be avoided so as to excite readers by expanding words and invigorating the spirit.” Such a statement demonstrates that Ch’oe clearly understood the poetic properties of metaphoric language.

Ch’oe further understood that literature should function to elevate the nurturing of the Way of Confucianism. Ch’oe wrote that literature should be able to move the reader’s mind through its correct contents and lead them to a righteous path. To achieve this end, he held that one should not plagiarize or simply imitate another’s writing, nor should they be overly concerned with formal techniques. So to speak, Ch’oe’s beliefs in writings hold that the unity of content and form is important, with content coming before form. He viewed that artistic talent could not be separated from a writer’s spirit, and an excellent work could be created only when a poet’s talent and poetic forms were closely bonded in a poetic idea.

Ch’oe took a serious view of dignity and bearing (p’unggyŏk), an individual element of each poet in his actual poetic criticism. He emphasized the writer’s spirit and the depth of his poetic ideas rather than poetic expressions or rhythmical phrases. He wrote, “The most important aspect in poetry and prose is spirit. One’s spirit stems from his disposition. Meaning arises from spirit and words follow from emotion. Emotion is nothing more than meaning. However it is very difficult to express mysterious meaning in words, as it easily becomes crude and coarse.” Such a statement demonstrates Ch’oe’s support of Yi Kyubo’s literature rather than that of Yi Illo.

Yŏgong p’aesŏl of Yi Chehyŏn Yi Chehyŏn (1288-1367) was a literary man active in the fourteenth century, a period after the previously mentioned three men. He was a distinguished master of poetry and prose in late Koryŏ,

and his literary fame was very high even in China. He journeyed to and then remained in China for a long time, becoming very closely associated with famous literary men of the Yuan dynasty.

Yŏgong p’aesŏl is a collection of anecdotes on poetry and miscellaneous events compiled

by Yi, and consists of four fascicles in one book. It is divided into two sections. In the first section of this work, various incidents related to the kings of prior generations, worthy sayings and activities of famous subjects are recorded, while the second half contains items related to writings and verse. While the title of this work [Jottings by Old Man Oak] indicates a miscellany by an insignificant old man, in reality it is very meaningful in the history of literary criticism since its important contents ushered in fullscale literary criticism in Chosŏn.

Concerning poetic criticism, Yi recorded concrete criticism about the works of the famous poets of Koryŏ such as Chŏng Chisang, as well as poems of Tang dynasty poets including Li Bai and Han Yu. Through various examples he suggested that in poetic creation it is not proper to use unreasonable terminology or place names although one would borrow and use the ancient poet’s expressions; further, Yi contended that poets needed to put more effort into polishing proper and suitable poetic dictions.

Yi Chehyŏn succeeded the progressive literary ideology of Yi Kyubo and Ch’oe Cha; he opposed formalistic imitation and following of the old, and emphasized simple and refined expressions.

He wrote, “If one sees far and wide, what he accomplishes is lofty, and if one has many experiences, what he commands in writing is resolute,” and emphasized the importance of firsthand experience rather than ideology in literature. He further wrote, “The poems of the ancients, although they depict the scenery before the poet’s eyes, they carry deep meanings beyond words and thus the aftertaste does not vanish even after the words are finished.” Here Yi emphasizes the lingering sensation that dwells in poetic language.

Concerning prose, Yi is given credit in the revival of the Confucian Classics which were able to hold the intellectual consciousness of literati, together with the rise of Neo-Confucian ideology. His literary collection of Ikchae nan’go [Scattered straws by Ikchae] was a lofty accomplishment in as much as it had no inferiority even in Chinese literary circles. He also recorded the customs and folksongs of Koryŏ in hansi in his work So akpu [A small collection of folksongs], and emphasized the truth of life and importance of ethnic sentiments.

Tongin chi mun of Ch’oe Hae and the Publication of Literary Anthologies in Late Koryŏ Literary criticism is accomplished by focusing on the subject of literary works. It is first conducted by directly critiquing a work and then adding one’s own ideas to the work in question.

There could further be an activity of selecting excellent pieces among the literary works of prior generations and publishing these as an anthology.

The publication of such anthologies became common at the end of the Koryŏ period. The boom in creating anthologies stemmed from the growing quantity of literary works and the necessity of

arranging a standard for scholars of future generations that would enable them to distinguish good and bad among these.

Tongguk mun’gam [Literary mirror of the Eastern Country], compiled by Kim T’aehyŏn (1261-1330), held the prose of many generations, but it is no longer extant. Ch’oe Hae (1287-1340), an accomplished literary man who passed the government service examination in Yuan China, compiled a collection entitled Tongin chi mun [Writings by men of the East], when he lived out the end of his difficult life in ruin. The work consisted of three sections: poetry, prose, and antithetical writings.

Among these, only a portion of the fifteen-fascicle compilation of antithetical writing is extant. One additional anthology of this time is Samhan si kwigam [Models of poetry in the Three Han (i.e., Korea)] compiled by Cho Hunhŭl.

These various critical works as well as literary anthologies demonstrate the high level of activity in Chinese character literature in late Koryŏ. The number of individual works also rapidly escalated. For example, there are some 4,500 Chinese character poems attributed to Yi Saek (13281396) alone. The notable surge in critical activities grew from a real need to distinguish jade from stone, and to point readers in a correct direction in this flood of literary creations. This activity also extended to the Chosŏn period and influenced such creations as Tongmunsŏn [Eastern literary anthology], compiled by Sŏ Kŏjŏng under royal order.

Kyŏnggich’e-ga, the Ideology and Reality of the Upper Classes While the Koryŏ sogyo were the songs of the common people, Kyŏnggich’e-ga (Kyŏnggistyle songs) were songs of the upper classes, specifically, the newly-risen literati class that had appeared in mid-Koryŏ. This group satisfied their musical desire that could not be filled with only Chinese-character poems through Korean language poems-songs. Kyŏnggich’e-ga was one genre of Korean language poem-songs.

The name of these songs originated from the refrain that begins “XX kyŏng kŭi ŏttŏhanoitko” (how is the scenery of XX) attached to every piece. These songs presented things or scenery that the composer considered to be splendid one after another, and then asked to readers how wondrous these items were. Composers of these songs mostly presented objects to demonstrate the luxurious lives of the upper class literati themselves. As these songs had a highly restricted form and the content was also limited, despite this form being present from the end of Koryŏ to early Chosŏn, there are only some twenty pieces extant.

The first work of this genre is “Hallim pyŏlgok” [Song of Confucian scholars] said to be a co-creation of the Confucian scholars at the Hallim-wŏn (Academy of letters) in the mid-Koryŏ period. Other works of this genre include “Chukkye pyŏlgok” [Song of the bamboo stream] and “Kwangdong pyŏlgok” [Song of Kwandong Province] by An Ch’uk, “Sangdae pyŏlgok” [Song of the censorate] by Kwŏn Kŭn, “Todong-gok” [Song of Todong] by Chu Sebung, and Tongnak p’al gok” [Song of lonely pleasure] by Kwŏn Homun.

The Self-import of the Literati and “Hallim pyŏlgok” Among kyŏnggich’e-ga, the most representative work is “Hallim pyŏlgok.” This was the first work of this genre and established the structural properties for all songs of this genre. The first line to the third line enumerates the distinguished literary men of Koryŏ and the types of writings in which they excelled. The fourth line is the refrain and asks how wonderful the scene would be if these prominent literary men were gathered in one place and sat for the government service examination.

This type of rhetorical question is boastful in that it reveals that those singing this song were excellent literary men as well. The fifth line clarifies that the disciplines of the outstanding scholar Kŭm Ŭi gathered together and composed this poem. The song sings the pleasure and pride of passing the government service examination by mentioning famous senior literary men of that time. Then the song enumerates many historical texts, excellent calligraphers, famous liquors, beautiful flowers, delightful music, and magnificent buildings in each subsequent stanza. By arranging the objects in and around their drinking party, the composers of this work boasted of the opulent lives led by the upper class literati. The final eighth stanza concludes the song with the pleasure of riding a swing with women and sharing love. Through this, we can surmise that the banquets of the upper class literati ultimately became no more than dissolute parties of pleasure seeking.

The newly-risen literati (sinhŭng sadaebu), as mentioned above, indicates a class that advanced through the government service examination after the military coup of the mid-Koryŏ period.

The advent of this group carries an important historical meaning since these literati took government positions by passing the government service examinations with their own ability unlike the earlier aristocratic class. The elegant pride flowing through “Hallim pyŏlgok” originates in such a socio-historic background.

The pride of these literati became even more elevated after the foundation of Chosŏn. A song that demonstrates this suitably is “Sangdae pyŏlgok” of Kwŏn Kŭn. Sangdae is an alternate name for the Sahŏnbu, or the Office of the Inspector-General. The Sahŏnbu was charged with investigating government corruption and rectifying the people’s customs. And Kwŏn Kŭn was the minister of this office. The work begins as he sings of the streets of the capital that link the Sahŏnbu with its scenic surrounds in a dignified voice. The work then asks how many heroes and men of talent like the composer exist in the world. Subsequently, stanzas relate the work of the Sahŏnbu officials at the royal palace and a drinking party after a day’s work. The fifth stanza concludes the song by expressing a deep wish for a peaceful reign harmonized with the King and royal subjects.

Songs Conveying Neo-Confucian Ideology Besides the above songs, other kyŏnggich’e-ga presented a strong base in the NeoConfucian ideology such as “Todong-gok” by Chu Sebung and “Tongnak p’al gok” by Kwŏn Homun.

They employed this form, which already was used to demonstrate the gusto and pride of the upper classes, as a literary tool to propagate Confucian ideology. There is a difference between the two men.

Chu attached weight to teaching Neo-Confucian ideology, while Kwŏn emphasized reciting the life of a hermitage in nature.

However, the kyŏnggich’e-ga poem-song almost disappeared by the mid-Chosŏn period.

This form declined so rapidly due to its tenaciously closed characteristics of form as mentioned above.

The inner boundaries of the form were exceedingly narrow such as its crude lyrics close to a style in literary Chinese, an organization based on arranging noun phrases, and the arrogance that only a certain social group could enjoy. Accordingly without a larger base of individuals to practice this form, there were a few experimental trials and then a rapid decline.

The Lives of Humans and Things The center of narratives is always humans. The founder of the mythological period was human and god at the same time. The high priest who performed a miracle and a hero who displayed excellent ability were also men although they had remarkable abilities. Even in a tale that personifies an animal or object, although the animal or the thing is the main character, the described figure is always human. In the Koryŏ period, various methods to tell of people’s lives were experimented with, which ultimately in later generations changed its form to the novel.

The Foundation Myth of Koryŏ and the Tale of Chakchegŏn Foundation myths were still newly fashioned in this period although the age of mythology had passed. The foundation myth of Koryŏ recorded in the Koryŏsa [History of the Koryŏ dynasty], quotes a work entitled P’yŏnnyŏn t’ongnok [Abridged chronological history] complied

by Kim Kwanŭi in the twelfth century. The foundation myth of Koryŏ told here begins with a tale of an ancestor six generations earlier than the founder of Koryŏ, Wang Kŏn, the later King T’aejo (r.

918-943). Especially interesting is the story of Chakchegŏn, the grandfather of Wang Kŏn.

Chakchegŏn is said to have been the son of a Korean woman named Chinŭi and Emperor Suzong (r. 756-762) of Tang China.

Chinŭi bought the fortuitous dream of her sister in which she went up to the peak of a mountain and urinated, with that urine flowing all over the world. The dream she bought was indeed efficacious. Chinŭi slept with Suzong, who was visiting Korea at the time and would later become the emperor of Tang. Thus, Chinŭi gave a birth to Chakchegŏn. When he was young, he asked his mother about his father. His mother told him his father was a noble man of Tang. Subsequently, Chakchegŏn traveled to Tang via boat seeking his father. In the middle of the voyage, the weather became foul and the boat was not able to proceed. The seamen insisted they had to throw the Koryŏ person out of the boat in order to continue a safe voyage. Chakchegŏn had no choice but to jump into the ocean. However, unexpectedly there was a rock under the boat that he could stand on. A bit later an old man came to him and said he was the Dragon King of the West Sea, and asked him to get rid of the disasters confronting him. After a while, a strange object drew near from the northwest. Although Chakchegŏn hesitated, the old man told him to shoot an arrow at it.

Chakchegŏn had been talented in archery since young, and he shot the object down with a single try.

The object was an old fox that had been trying to kill the Dragon King. The Dragon King then said he would listen to whatever wish Chakchegŏn had. The young man stated he wished to become the king of Korea. The Dragon King said that would only possible for his descendant, and instead he gave his daughter to Chakchegŏn as a wife along with many treasures.

The process resulting Chakchegŏn’s birth in the above narrative is similar to a tale concerning Kim Yusin’s sister. That narrative tells that one sister dreamed an auspicious dream, sold

it to another sister who did not have such a dream, and that the buyer of the dream then met an excellent man. Chinŭi in the above narrative meets the emperor of Tang China, while Munhŭi in the Silla narrative meets Kim Ch’unch’u, the future King T’aejong Muyŏl (r. 654-661) who would lead the unification battles of the Three Kingdoms. Moreover, that Chakchegŏn went out to seek his father is similar to the narrative concerning King Yuri (r. 19 BCE-18 CE) in the Chumong foundation myth of Koguryŏ.

Hence, we can see that the myth of Chakchegŏn was adapted from the myths and legends of earlier generations. The structure that tells of ancestors six generations including the founder of a dynasty as seen in the Koryŏ myth repeats in the foundation myth of Chosŏn as well. In Yongbi och’ŏn-ga [Songs of flying dragons] the achievement of six generations are told from the T’aejong (r. 1400-1418), the son of the founder of Chosŏn, King T’aejo (r. 1392-1398), back to his ancestor Mokcho (d. 1274) of six generations earlier.

Tales of Religious Personages and Kyunyŏ-jŏn Foundation myths can be transmitted for long periods of time due to their strong political properties while narratives featuring religious personages survive for long periods based on religious usefulness. Kyunyŏ-jŏn [Tale of Kyunyŏ] is a work that can be placed first among tales concerning a religious character. This work is a biography of the famous monk Kyunyŏ (923-973) composed

by Hyŏngnyŏn Chŏng in 1075. Kyunyŏ-jŏn was kept with the Koryŏ p’alman taejang-gyŏng [Grand Tripitaka of Koryŏ], and is all the more famous because of the eleven hyangga recorded in this work.

This biography was composed to elevate the achievements of Kyunyŏ and includes many traditional tales as well. For example, the story concerning the birth of the monk is easily seen in earlier myths and novels of later generations. His mother was sixty years old when she dreamed of a pair of phoenixes flying into her embrace and became pregnant. She gave birth to Kyunyŏ after seven months, but since his shape was ugly she deserted him on the street. However a pair of crows sheltered the baby with their wings. His mother saw that scene and greatly repented her wrongdoing and raised him with care. Kyunyŏ devoted himself to Buddhism and became a great monk, leaving a record of many marvelous achievements and merits.

Various Forms of Narratives about Humans Even without political or religious rationales, many narratives about people were written.

The series of biographies in the Samguk sagi mentioned earlier are representative of these narratives; in addition to the characters recorded in this official history, there are numerous narratives written about individuals. For example, Tongmunsŏn [Eastern literary anthology]—the massive literary anthology of 133 fascicles in 45 books compiled by Sŏ Kŏjŏng and others under royal order

in 1478—records quite a few narratives of people written in the Koryŏ period. These narratives take various forms, including epitaphs from burial steles and those actually interned in the coffin along with the body. Such works are referred to as funerary writings (myomun). Additionally, there are also necrologies (haengjŏng) that record the lifetime achievements of the deceased. Another form is the biography (chŏn) that simply retold the events of an individual’s life. Chŏn were created for amusement and as literature rather than strictly for making a record of an individual. In Koryŏ, a commonly used form was the kajŏn (pseudo-biography), a type of narrative that personified objects. Specifically, objects including money, liquor, bamboo, ice and paper were personified and the lifetime of these objects was unfolded in this category of works. Examples include Kuksun-jŏn [Tale of wine] personifying liquor and Kongbang-jŏn [Fortunes of Master Coin] using a coin as its subject both written by Im Ch’un, and Kuk Sŏnsaeng-jŏn [Tale of Master Malt] again personifying liquor and Ch’ŏnggang saja hyŏnbu-jŏn [Tale of the turtle in clear water] focusing on a turtle and both by Yi Kyubo. While these were amusing narratives, they also held a didactic function.

Personification of a Coin in Kongbang-jŏn To illustrate personification in the kajŏn (pseudo-biography), we will examine Kongbangjŏn. “Kongbang” indicates money, “kong” meaning a round shape and “bang” meaning a square hole. At this time a common form for money was a round coin with a square hole in its center. Such a design allowed it to be carried on a string. The character “kong” meaning empty (空) could also have been used since it has the same pronunciation. However, the character “kong” (孔) was intentionally used in this narrative since it is a character commonly used in family names. Since the shape of money of which the surface was round but the inside was angular became a person’s name, this naturally was a description of the person’s character. Namely, it was depicted an individual who was round and smooth on the outside but one-sided and harsh on the inside.

The ancestors of Kongbang never held any government posts since they appeared in the world, until one was first employed as an official during the legendry reign of the Yellow Emperor (Huang-di) of China. His father Hwach’ŏn was a minister in Zhou China and charged with work related to collecting taxes. Kongbang was very expedient and ultimately able to secure a position in the Han dynasty of China. He considered money very important and only sought after profit. His associates were all wealthy and he ignored an individual’s true character. Finally, he was impeached from office and driven out of his position. In both the later Tang and Song dynasties, Kongbang’s cronies and his son sought government positions but were eventually ostracized and killed. The work concludes with the writer’s admonishment about the evil of seeking only money and benefit.

Buddhist Tales of Wonder and Wang rang pan hon-jŏn In late Koryŏ there appeared a category of narratives about humans (inmul-jŏn) that

approached the novel form. Although Wang rang pan hon-jŏn carries the suffix of “jŏn,” it does not simply carry the name of person like other works of this genre. In fact, it is titled so one can surmise the content of the narrative. The title means “a narrative of a man surnamed Wang dying and then living again.” A man named Wang Sagwŏe lived in Kilju. One night his wife, who had been dead for eleven years, appeared in his dream, warning, “For the crime of speaking ill of a neighbor who was praying to Buddha, I was taken to the next world and tomorrow you will be taken to the underworld. If you do not want to be taken to the underworld, earnestly chant to Buddha tomorrow.” Wang did as his wife said, and wholeheartedly chanted supplications to the Buddha.

Messengers from the underworld came to take Wang and saw him praying to the Buddha and thus could not take him away directly. However, they could not disobey the order of King Yama, the ruler of the underworld, and had to take him to the underworld. The messengers reported to Yama, “Wang repented his sins and was earnestly praying to the Buddha. He is now sinless.” Accordingly, Yama forgave Wang and sent him back to the human world. And, for his wife who had been dead for long and thus did not have a body to return to the world in although she too was pardoned, Yama had her reborn in the body of a princess of the kingdom of Wŏlji-guk who had died at that time. Wang’s wife—now reborn as the princess—asked the king of Wŏlji-guk to allow her to meet her husband again. The couple were reunited and lived until they were 147 years old before going to Sukkavati.

The above narrative has somewhat different characteristics than the biographical narratives that record a person’s life, despite being a narrative centering on the lives of humans. In the aspect of literary genre, this work continues the tradition of the tale of wonder (K. chŏn’gi; C. chuanqi) such as the tale of “Ch’oe Ch’iwŏn” recorded in the Sui-jŏn [Tales of the bizarre] of earlier times and subsequently continued with works such as Kŭmo sinhwa [New stories of Mt. Golden Turtle]. This work, then, is located midway between these two works in the history of this genre.

The Import of Chinese Narratives and Taiping guangji There is little doubt that many more narratives were produced in Koryŏ than in earlier times. However, not many of these have survived to the present and many that have been transmitted have only been preserved as fragments or otherwise altered from the original form. We can surmise this from the fact that narratives transmitted to the present were finally recorded only by this time.

Taiping guangji [Extensive gleanings of the reign of Great Tranquility] is a massive collection of mysterious narratives of more than five hundred fascicles compiled in 981 under the royal edict of Emperor Daizong (r. 976-997) of Song China. This work seems to have been introduced to Koryŏ in the twelfth or thirteenth century at the latest. Also in a printed copy of Pakt’ongsa (published in 1347), a textbook of Chinese for Chinese interpreters of Koryŏ, a part of Xiyu ji [Record of travels to the west], another large collection of Chinese fiction, was recorded. As such, we can see that

lengthy narratives like these two works circulated in KoryĹ?. Based on this evidence, we can speculate that similar works created by KoryĹ? writers might have existed, despite there not being any concrete evidence to corroborate such a stance.

The Direction of Literature in Literary Chinese in Early Chosŏn At the end of the fourteenth century Koryŏ fell and the Chosŏn dynasty was founded. At a similar time, there was also a dynastic change in China as the Ming dynasty overthrew the Yuan dynasty. The newly founded Chosŏn dynasty adopted a policy of suppressing Buddhism and promoting Confucianism as a governing ideology and tried to put into practice a moral Confucianism. Thus begun an extensive restructuring of the social system of the middle age, and the arrangement and publication of literary documents were carried on as a government-led project.

At the inception of this new country, intellectuals were divided into two groups. The first group positively cooperated in the foundation of the new dynasty and took government posts. The second group lived out of power according to the Confucian moral obligation as loyal subjects of fallen Koryŏ dynasty. These men finished their lives out of the government structure with only books and their literary creations. All of these men were Confucianists who adhered to a new type of Confucianism, known as Neo-Confucianism, introduced from China in late Koryŏ.

Shortly after the creation of the new dynasty, King Sejong (r. 1418-1450) created the writing system of han’gŭl, and Chosŏn thus had an independent writing system that could record its own language. Accordingly works written in this new script such as Yongbi och’ŏn-ga [Songs of flying dragons], Sŏkpo sangjŏl [Episodes from the life of the Buddha], and Wŏrin sŏkpo [The moon’s reflection on the genealogy of the Buddha] were published as fruits of government projects.

However, the monopolistic authority of literature in Chinese characters was not damaged even a small degree, and rather it became even more consolidated.

The two groups taking different political paths in early Chosŏn brought about a confrontation of the Hungup’a (faction of the meritorious and conservative) and the Sarimp’a (faction of the sarim, i.e., Confucian scholars) in the reign of King Sŏngjong (1469-1494). The Hungup’a was a group of individuals that meritoriously served the government in the difficult processes of political strife in the early dynasty. The Sarimp’a was a group of literary men centered on the scholar Kil Chae (1353-1419) who stayed out of the political world in early Chosŏn and instead endeavored to educate their juniors. The confrontation resultant as the Sarimp’a advanced into the central political world became a turning point for deeply reconsidering the desirable role and direction of literature. Moreover, the existence of anti-organizational intellectuals centering on the sa yuksin (six martyred ministers) and the saeng yuksin (six loyal ministers) who preserved their loyalty and resisted the usurpation of the throne by King Sejo (r. 1455-1468) is continuously visible.

These individuals had a unique world of literature distinguished from either the Hungup’a or Sarimp’a, and formed the sect of the so-called literature of the outsiders.

Hence, Chinese character literature of early Chosŏn can be divided into the three groups of kwan’gak, literature of the aristocratic government official class, the sarimp’a literature of the sarim of the Yŏngnam region, and the and pangwoe (outsider) literature of those intellectuals outside the government structure.

Compilation of Tongmunsŏn and Literary View of Early Chosŏn Tongmunsŏn [Eastern literary anthology] is a large compilation of literary works in 133 fascicles and 45 books compiled under the royal edict of King Sŏngjong in 1478. This work was the Korean equivalent of the Chinese Wenxuan [Literary anthology]. Equal to the Chinese work, compilation of this was a countrywide project to gather the old traditions and brilliant fruits of Korean literature in a single work. This project took some seven years to complete. Centered on Sŏ Kŏjŏng, then director of the Office of Royal Decrees (Yemun’gwan), a total of twenty-three scholars including No Sasin, Kang Hŭimaeng, and Yang Sŏngji, participated in this compilation.

The publication of Tongmunsŏn was influenced by other anthologies—Tongguk mun’gam [Literary mirror of the Eastern Country], Tongin chi mun [Writings by men of the East], and Samhan si kwigam [Models of poetry in the Three Han (i.e., Korea)]—published in late Koryŏ.

Moreover, this compilation was further driven by the cultural pride of the new dynasty and the desire to reorganize traditional cultural objects. The representative literary men of that time were brought together, and powerfully motivated to compile this work under the desire of integrating all the cultural properties of literature in literary Chinese. Besides the Tongmunsŏn, other countrywide scale projects to organize legal codes, history, and other social systems continued one after another under this elevated cultural awareness during the reign of King Sŏngjong (1469-1494). In this period, then, compilations such as Kyŏngguk taejŏn [National code], Tongguk t’onggam [Comprehensive mirror of the Eastern Country], Samguksa ch’ŏryo [Abridgement of the history of the Three Kingdoms], Akhak kwoebŏm [Canon of music], and Kukcho oryeŭi [National five rites], were accomplished.

From a poem attributed to the Koguryŏ general Ŭlji Mundŏk, some 4,302 writings of more than 500 literary men—including Kim Inmun, Sŏl Ch’ong, and Ch’oe Ch’iwŏn of Silla, Kim Pusik, Yi Illo, Yi Kyubo and Yi Chehyŏn of Koryŏ, and Kwŏn Kŭn and Chŏng Tojŏn of Chosŏn—are recorded in the Tongmunsŏn. The contents of this compilation are classified into fifty-five styles of verse and prose.

The compilers of this work, including Sŏ Kŏjŏng, viewed literature as a cart that carried morality, and tried to understand the substance of literature from the point of its utility. Sŏ wrote of the standards for inclusion in the collection in its preface, stating that those works that were reasonable and correct in addition to assisting the governing and educating of the people were selected. The compilers steadfastly believed that literature should be based on the Confucian Classics and help with the practice and enhancement of Confucian morality. The compilers of this work further emphasized that the poems and prose composed by their predecessors were unique and different from those of China and asserted the need to organize and pass on these literary creations to future generations.

Among those works included were many practical writings based in strong decorum, and,

unexpectedly, many Buddhist and Daoist-related writings recorded as well, despite Confucianism being the governing ideology of the country. The anthology also preserves quite a few examples of magnificent antithetical writings (K. pyŏnmun; C. pianwen) that followed a very stylized form of beauty, thus allowing us to understand the literary consciousness of the work’s compilers. The Tongmunsŏn summed up Korean literature in Chinese characters from the Three Kingdoms period through early Chosŏn in one place, emphasized the unique characteristics of an independent culture that differed from China, and greatly influenced later generations by not censoring works based on ideology and including a various and colorful content.

The Flow of Kwan’gak Literature Kwan’gak refers to government offices such as the Hongmun’gwan (Office of the special counselors), Yemun’gwan (Office of royal decrees), and the Sŏnggyun’gwan (Confucian academy) that were charged with the realization of a medieval civil administration. These offices were responsible for writing the official documents needed in governance. Thus, kwan’gak literature indicates the product of writings used for official purposes. This form of literature is important because the literary trend of the country changed according to the direction of these writings in areas such as diplomatic documents exchanged with China, royal proclamations, academic works, and cases related to current affairs.

Those charged with the official writings in the offices such as the Hongmun’gwan and Yemun’gwan were more than simply government officials, but rather the leaders of the literary style of a particular age. A content to protect and glorify the national order was in general at the core of this class of literature and an ornamental function was deemed important. Refined elegant and magnificent expressions imbued with formality were prominent. This kwan’gak literature led by the scholar-officials emphasized preparation of medieval standards through literature, and strengthened the monopolistic value of Korean literature in literary Chinese, thus greatly enhancing the level of Korean literature in literary Chinese of the period. These men struggled with the question of what literature could do for the age, and enacted that struggle through literary creations. Formative aspects of kwan’gak literature stressed an ornamental function with main contents aimed at admiration and admonishment. Such writing naturally tended to give prominence to form and technique. This became separately referred to as Sajangp’a (prose and poem faction) literature for that reason.

Early in Chosŏn, Chŏng Tojŏn and Kwŏn Kŭn composed works such as Pulssi chappyŏn [Miscellany of Mr. Buddha] and Iphak tosŏl [Diagrammatic treatise for entering learning], and suggested an ideological direction for the new dynasty. In Chŏng’s “Sindo p’algyŏng,” a song of the new capital city of Hanyang, as well as the writings of Kwŏn, we see the pride of intellectuals who were at the van of building a new country and also their enterprising spirit.

Representative of the kwan’gak literary men of early Chosŏn is Sŏ Kŏjŏng (1420-1488).

He was a minister for some twenty-three years and led the compilation of large-scale works such as the Tongmunsŏn. Sŏ wrote that there was literature of the government, literature of the boondocks, and literature of Sŏn Buddhism (i.e., meditational Buddhism), and what was truly valuable was becoming a loyal minister of the country charged with administrating and unfolding a righteous education for the people through governmental literature. Sŏ also published a work on poetry, Tongin sihwa [Essays on poetry by Easterners]. Even in this work he suggested that a poet’s disposition was an important standard for evaluating poems, and thus expanded this consistent ideology.

Following after Sŏ and continuing kwan’gak literature were writers including Yi Sŭngso, Kang Hŭimaeng, and Sŏng Kan. Sŏng Hyŏn, the author of Yongjae ch’onghwa [Assorted writings

by Yongjae] continued Sŏ’s conservative literary view and represented the voice of the Hungup’a that recognized the various values of literature in the debate with the Sarimp’a that supported only the moral value of literature. Yongjae ch’onghwa records abundant contents related to folklore and also includes descriptions of the lives of farmers.

However, from the late fifteenth through mid-sixteenth centuries the inner contradictions of Chosŏn increased. Political power was monopolized by the Hungup’a and the country’s economy showed serious faults. While the kwan’gak literary men of the Hungup’a peacefully dwelled in the shadow of vested rights rather than creating a new ideology, their literature lost its awareness of problems and drifted. The life of the reality was distant from literary beauty or the world of decorative poetic enthusiasm. Pak Sang, Yi Haeng, and Pak Ŭn, representative writers of this age, pursued a grand and highly refined poetic style, and put great effort towards polishing poetic language in particular. The highly refined works with polished language of these writers carefully adhered to form. The writers of this style are collectively called the Eastern Poets of the Jiangxi School (Haedong kangsŏ sip’a) after the Song Chinese Jiangxi School, which highly stressed mannerism and formalism.

The Literary Cognition of the Sarimp’a After Sejo usurped the throne, government officials gradually became those of meritorious and noble lineages, and neglected social responsibility as intellectuals. Rather, they enjoyed the political power they had gained, immersed themselves in pleasure-seeking culture, and neglected social obligations. In the sixteenth century, when the literati (sarim) from the Yŏngnam area advanced into the political world, discord between the Sarimp’a and Hungup’a heightened.

Those of the Sarimp’a demanded social responsibility of intellectuals along with deep study of the Confucian Classics and morality. They held that literature was only a means for cultivating one’s mind, and opposed the literature of the Hungup’a that stressed technique and formalism. In the government service examinations, opinions were sharply divided for selecting men of ability between using only literary writings such as poems and prose as the standard rather than the Confucian

Classics.

Kim Chongjik greatly lamented the literary style of the time which did not put effort into moral philosophy and indulged only in composing magnificent works. Rejecting the mannerist mode of writing, Kim insisted that the true meaning of literature was only achieved when it held morality and erudition. His pupils, including Nam Hyoon, Kim Koengp’il, and Chŏng Yŏch’ang, continued this stance. In general, these men emphasized literary content over mode of expression, and held an extreme viewpoint of the utility of literature, that being that it was only valuable when it contributed to society. They studied the order of nature and the universe even when simply looking at nature, and understood literature only as a mean of cultivating the mind.

Against such an ideological backdrop, the men of the Hungup’a and Sarimp’a were sharply opposed both in politics and literature. Those of the Hungup’a sensed a crisis in the aggressive nature of the Sarimp’a and sought to defeat this group through a series of political purges (sahwa).

The inflexible view of the Sarimp’a concerning literature, however, was the cause of the failure to produce any new results, and the literary production of the Hungup’a, despite being inferior in logic, came to be seen as representing literary existence as it was. Consequently, in the following period the confrontation between these two groups was reconciled, and this brought out an advanced understanding of literary function and its role in society. A tendency to pursue a new order of literature through the harmony of content and formalism became the mainstream of literary circles in the sixteenth century.

Literature of the “Outsiders” Pangoe-in (the outsiders) is a traditional expression that indicates those individuals on the circumference or beyond the boundaries, particularly the space outside of central governing power structures. Thus, pangoe-in indicates those intellectuals opposed to the governing structure either living outside of the central power structure of their own or another’s will. Those in this group shunned both the Hungup’a and the Sarimp’a, and largely led unfortunate lives as literary men out of power. Naturally in their literary works, the teachings of legitimate study—Confucianism—is rejected. They aligned themselves with the heretical ideologies of Buddhism or Daoism, severely criticized the irrational reality, and deviated into a romantic imaginary world through their literature.

Accordingly in their literary works, there was none of the official formalism of the Hungup’a or the serious moralism of the Sarimp’a. Without hesitation they expressed matters and subjects the mainstream discourse could not discuss with their rough rage and free imaginative power. They were very proud of their own talents and tried to dissolve their frustrations over what could not be realized in reality through literary works.

They severely criticized the corrupt and conventional literature of past times, and expressed extreme disgust at ornamental literature with no content. They bent their ear towards the mysticism of Daoism and the teachings of Buddhism, feeling liberation of suppressed ego in the process of such

activities. The true meaning of literature to them was neither an adaptation of the social regulations nor a means of success in life, but to apprehend and express the truths of life.

Kim Sisŭp is the representative writer of this group. He was one of the six loyal ministers (saeng yuksin) who resisted the usurpation of the throne by Sejo, and lived a life of resistance. He became a monk, indulged in eccentric conduct, and created novels touched by the fantastic such as Kŭmo sinhwa [New stories of Mt. Golden Turtle]. Also he wrote many works that satirized corrupt government officials and depicted the hard lives of the people. He freely visited the worlds of Buddhism and Daoism, and expressed traces of deep thought in literal language. In addition to Kim, writers such as Hong Yuson, Chŏng Ryŏm, and Chŏng Hŭiryang of the early sixteenth century depicted the Daoist imaginary world in Chinese poetry (hansi), and injected a new vitality into literature.

Collections of Bawdy Narratives During the reign of King Sŏngjong (1469-1494) the kwan’gak literary men published a few collections of humorous narratives known as sohwa. Examples include T’aep’yŏng hanhwa kolgye-jŏn [Peaceful and humorous stories for leisure] by Sŏ Kŏjŏng, Ch’ondam haei [Jawdropping stories from the countryside] by Kang Hŭimaeng, and Ŏmyŏnsun [Shield for blocking sleep] written by Song Serim. The main contents of these collections were lewd happenings between men and women, and thus surely to be censored. Why did a man such as Sŏ Kŏjŏng, a high-ranking government official and the leading literary figure of the day, put these low-grade narratives into a book?

Sŏ wrote in the preface of his collection T’aep’yŏng hanhwa kolgye-jŏn that it was not a work to pass onto his descendants, but rather a collection to inspire laughter and allow the reader to forget his worries. The collection holds interesting stories that had been in circulation from late Koryŏ through early Chosŏn, and the greatest number of these narratives are lewd or erotic tales.

Song’s Ŏmyŏnsun, as the title indicates, was said to be so funny that no one could sleep if reading this work. His narratives of sexual happenings between men and women are written both frankly and in a witty style. As the title of Kang’s Ch’ondam haei indicates, it gathered tales of the country people so interesting it would cause one’s jaw to drop. This was also a collection of bawdy tales.

It is quite interesting that these literati of high social status created such amusing collections of lewd stories clearly and concretely under their own names. Notable, is that most of these collections were compiled by the kwan’gak literary men. A literary activity such as this, which could never be sanctioned or possible from the standpoint of Sarimp’a, was openly realized. These works are meaningful from the aspect that they are in some degree satires of the society of that time, and moreover, that they strengthened the entertainment function of literature by not hiding and openly expressing basic human instincts.

The Appearance of the Novel, Tales of Wonder and Kŭmo sinhwa The genre of “tales of wonder” (chŏn’gi) had long been present with narratives such as “Ch’oe Ch’iwŏn” already present in the tenth century. Moreover, in both the Samguk yusa and Samguk sagi descriptive narratives quite close to the form of the novel were recorded. Yet, due to certain elements, we do not refer to these as novels. Various transmitted tales and creation of writings in the mode of tales of wonder along with secondary influences through Chinese works such as Taiping guangji [Extensive gleanings of the reign of Great Tranquility] resulted in the creation of the novel form in early Chosŏn. The first such work is Kŭmo sinhwa.

Kim Sisŭp and Kŭmo sihwa Kŭmo sihwa [New stories of Mt. Golden Turtle] is a collection of tales of wonder composed by Kim Sisŭp (1435-1493). This work records five separate narratives: “Manboksa chŏp’o-ki” [Old bachelor Yang plays ch’ŏp’o at Manbok Temple], “Yisaeng kyujang-jŏn” [Student Yi peers over the wall], Ch’wiyu pubyŏkchŏng-gi” [Student Hong plays at Pubyŏk Pavilion], “Nam yŏmbuju-chi” [Student Pak visits the underworld], and “Yonggung puyŏn-rok” [Student Han visits the Dragon Palace]. Based upon additional notes, there originally seems to have more works but only five pieces have been transmitted to the present.

The origins for the creation of Kŭmo sinhwa are found in the Chinese Jiandeng xinhua [New tales written while cutting the wick], a collection of tales of wonder written by Qu You (13471433) of Ming China. Jiandeng xinhua was not only popular in Chosŏn at the time, but further highly praised by Kim Sisŭp. Comparing the two works, we can cite many similar parts. However, Kŭmo sinhwa cannot be said a mere imitation of the Chinese work, as the similarity of the two works stems from formal aspects. Moreover, the worldview and historical outlook of Kim’s effort is entirely different from that of Jiandeng xinhua.

Kŭmo sinhwa occupies an important position in the history of the Korean novel. First, it is a novel collection of narratives that had heretofore never existed. Moreover, it was a creation that was conceived and executed by a single writer. Of course folk narratives and tales of wonder existed in earlier times and were bound together as a book by an individual as in the case of Sui-jŏn.

However, with regards to Sui-jŏn the original text is not extant and only some of the narratives have survived; thereby, the exact form of this work cannot be known. Nonetheless, it is difficult to consider this work to have been literature of high quality and arranged in an ordered fashion such as Kŭmo sinhwa. From such a point, Kŭmo sinhwa illustrates that Korean literature fundamentally entered the age of the novel.

Examining the narratives in Kŭmo sinhwa, “Manboksa chŏp’o-ki” is a story of a lonely and poor Confucian student by the name of Yang. He lives in Namwŏn of Chŏlla Province and meets the spirit of an aristocratic young woman who died at Manbok Temple during an attack by

Japanese pirates. The two share poetry and love after which Yang retires to seclusion in the deep mountains and lives out his life alone. “Yisaeng kyujang-jŏn” describes the love between a poor Confucian student surnamed Yi and of the Kaesŏng region and a young woman from the distinguished and aristocratic Ch’oe family. With difficulty they were able to overcome the economic gap between the two families and marry, but she died during the rebellion of the Red Turbans.

Afterwards, the spirit of the wife came to her husband and two lived together. However, such a love could not continue and the two separated, with Yi dying shortly thereafter. “Ch’wiyu pubyŏkchŏnggi” tells of a Confucian student of the Kaesŏng area surnamed Hong, who went to Pubyŏk Pavilion in P’yŏngyang. There he met a princess of the last king of Kija Chosŏn, and while drunkenly having fun, he shared feelings of deep emotion and resentment after hearing of the ruin of the Kingdom.

The above three narratives deal with the love between men and women while the following two stories are somewhat different. “Nam yŏmbuju-chi” tells of a scholar surnamed Pak of Kyŏngju who lived during the reign of King Sejo (1455-1468). In a dream, Pak meets Yama, the king of the underworld. Pak expresses his political views to Yama, who agrees with him. Yama then abdicates his throne to Pak, who returns to the human world, soon arranges his affairs and dies. The core of this work lies in the conversation between Pak and Yama, in which we can see the advanced political philosophy of Kim Sisŭp. “Yonggung puyŏn-rok” tells of a student named Han who lived in Kaesŏng. He is invited to the underwater palace of the Dragon King, where he demonstrates his literary talent to the utmost, receives an excellent banquet, and then returns to the human world.

After returning to the secular world, Han found no meaning in life and thus retires to the mountains, hiding from the world.

The protagonists of these works are men with great literary talent, with most being both poor and lonely. These protagonists living in poverty and loneliness, were not properly treated in reality, and came to receive consolation from the spiritual or next world. They desired to turn their backs on the human world and consequently met a different world, and thus completely separated from the human world. It is quite difficult to find such cases of a protagonist being so distant from the human world in tales of earlier times. This was an estrangement that could never be reconciled between the protagonists and the human world. Due to this special feature or tendency of the narratives, Kŭmo sinhwa is seen as unique when compared to the narratives of earlier times and can be considered a work in the genre of the novel.

It can be said that the distance between the protagonists and the human world was a reflection of the writer and the world. Kim Sisŭp lived far from the world of politics and is called an outsider, the representative of this group in early Chosŏn. Although his genius was well-known from his youth, when Sejo usurped the throne from his nephew Tanjong, Kim disconnected his relations with the world and wandered about the country. He could not participate in the politics of this time when reality had completely departed from his political ideology. The distance between Kim and the world is similar to that of the protagonists of Kŭmo sinhwa. Kim could not approach the world, and due to this, he became fascinated with Buddhism although he was a Confucianist, and could

compose novels and degrade himself although he was the best scholar.

Kŭmo sinhwa was highly popular and thus published many times even in Japan where it was widely read. It further had a direct influence on Japanese literary creations such as Togi-bōko.

Tales of Wonder (chŏn’gi) after Kŭmo sinhwa There were other novels in the chŏn’gi genre created after Kŭmo sinhwa. Sin Kwanghan (1484-1555) composed Kijae kii [Strange tales by Kijae] in which various narratives are recorded.

Among the works, “Sŏjae yahŏe-rok” [Record of a night meeting in the study] is notable in that it uses personification in a “dream record” (mongyu-rok) format. The story unfolds around a narrator who has an invigorating conversation with four individuals who visit his study in the middle of the night, but after waking he realizes they were only his writing implements. Another piece, “Ch’oesaeng ujin-gi” tells of a poor scholar surnamed Ch’oe who by chance visits the palace of the Dragon King. There, he experiences all sort of marvelous happenings before returning to the human world. This narrative is similar in many aspects to the aforementioned “Yonggung puyŏn-rok” recorded in Kŭmo sinhwa.

Kijae kii functions as a bridge continuing the tradition of the tales of wonder of Koryŏ such as Kŭmo sinhwa of the prior age and links these with the later romance chŏn’gi novels (aejŏng chŏn’gi sosŏl) of the seventeenth century. Also, this work is interesting from the aspect that it focuses on investigation and interest about matters of the world that could not be reasonably explained and forms these into literary works. However, since the narratives are short and do not exhibit a serious awareness of matters, they are considered less valuable than Kŭmo sinhwa.

The narrative form of the chŏn’gi novel seen in Kŭmo sinhwa blossomed in the seventeenth century. Notable works of this period include Chusaeng-jŏn [The tale of Master Chu] and Wi Kyŏngch’ŏn-jŏn [The tale of Wi Kyŏngch’ŏn] both written by Kwŏn P’il, and Ch’oe Ch’ŏk-jŏn [The tale of Ch’oe Ch’ŏk] written by Cho Wihan. Besides these, works such as Tongsŏn-gi [Record of the fairy in the cave] and Sangsa tong-gi [Record of pondering together in a cave] were created as well.

It is interesting that both above works of Kwŏn P’il feature protagonists who are soldiers of Ming China dispatched to Chosŏn during the Hideyoshi invasions (1592-1598). It is also noteworthy that these works emerged from the common fantasy setting of chŏn’gi novels, and strengthened reality. Excluded were such unrealistic features as the resurrection of a dead hero or a ghost sharing love with the living. Rather, these works described romantic love between the sexes or the fundamental insecurities of human existence in the face of destiny. Such a transformation marks a great change in the cognition of novels.

Sijo and Kasa, the Discovery of Nature and Songs of the Way in Nature Sijo and kasa are poetic forms written in the Korean script that first appeared in late Koryŏ.

The class of newly-risen literati was the main composer group. The same class of literati was also the creators of the aforementioned kyŏnggich’e-ga form of poetry. While the lifespan of kyŏnggich’e-ga as a literary genre was short and those who composed and enjoyed this form narrow due to its particular literary form, sijo and kasa had wide followings in every aspect and settled as the representative poetic forms of the Chosŏn period.

Both sijo and kasa follow versification patterns of four rhythmic steps, or segments (ŭmbo).

As four segments is an even number, it especially functions in keeping a stable and smooth rhythm compared to an odd number of segments. There is no restriction in the number of syllables composing a segment. Various constitutions range from three to five or even six syllables in a segment. Of course due to the basic properties of the Korean language, most segments consist of three to four syllables.

While sijo is a short poetic form consisting of three lines (chang), kasa is long poems without any restriction in regards to length. Viewed from genre, sijo is a lyrical form of poetry while kasa is open in form and widely includes lyricism, narrative, and even factual narrative. As such, due to the special feature of being simple as well as various in themes, sijo and kasa were enjoyed among all traditional poetic forms for the longest period.

Division of Form in Sijo Chaenŏmŏ Sŏng Kwŏllong chip-e sul iktan mal ŏje tŭtko Nuun so pallo pakch’a ŏnch’i noha chijŭlt’ago Aiya ne Kŏllong kyesinya Chŏng Chwasu watta illŏra Over the hill at the house of Sŏng Kwŏllong, yesterday I heard wine being seasoned; I kicked a lying cow and put a blanket on it to ride; Boy, is your master Kwŏllong home? Tell him Chŏng Chwasu has come.

(Chŏng Ch’ŏl) As the above poem demonstrates, sijo can be defined as poems with a structure of four segments in three lines. What is important here is the three line structure. The segments of the first and second lines generally consist of three or four syllables and the development of the poetic idea is level or flat. The systemic completion of such a candid flow of poetic image is done in the final line.

The third line has a very different rhythmic structure from the first and second lines. Not only is the first segment restricted to three syllables, but also the second segment can be expanded to five or more syllables. This is an intense finalizing structure to heighten the poetic image as much as possible in the second segment after integrating it in the first segment of the final line, and then completing the poem in the final segments.

As in the above example, the special structural requirements of sijo require the use of such exclamations like aiya (boy) or ŏjŭbŏ (alas, ah!) in the first segment of the last line. Moreover, exclamatory or imperative endings such as illŏra (inform [someone]) or harira (I will) are used in the final segment of the last line. The reason sijo could maintain structural stability with such a simple composition of three lines and still achieve an emotionally rapid progress as well as conclusion was all thanks to such fundamentals. Such structural requirements as these had already been used in the tenline hyangga of Silla. Paying close attention to that aspect, some scholars consider the ten-line hyangga to be the origin of sijo.

Although the creation of the sijo form is thought to have been in late Koryŏ, it was in the Chosŏn period that the form fundamentally prospered. The simple and temperate beauty of formality in sijo well accorded with the literati’s understanding of beauty and worldview. While the chief literary pursuit of the literati was poetry in Chinese characters (hansi), these poems could not be enjoyed as songs and only recited. Thus, through sijo the literati could satisfy their desire for poem-songs.

In early Chosŏn, the method of singing sijo was limited to kagok-ch’ang. Kagok-ch’ang is a method of singing that divides a single sijo into five sections and is accompanied by elegant music generally provided by the kŏmun’go (a six-stringed zither) or another stringed instrument. Kagokch’ang is categorized as a type of court music (chŏngak) as these songs overflow with merriment, but preserve grace and elegance. At the end of the Chosŏn period, as a specialized singing group which belonged to a middle class appeared, kagok-ch’ang became variously divided on one hand, while sijo-ch’ang (sijo songs), a simple singing style that allowed singing without any musical accompaniment, became greatly popular. Moreover, those who created and enjoyed sijo grew dramatically. While sijo was initially the poetic domain of the literati, these poems developed into a genre which peoples of all social statuses enjoyed.

In general, the term sijo refers to p’yŏng, or standard, sijo. However in early Chosŏn, linked or cyclical sijo (yŏn sijo) that bound many p’yŏng sijo with a common subject were popular.

Examples of these sijo cycles include “Ŏbu-ga” [Song of Fishermen] by Yi Hyŏnbo, “Tosan sibi-gok” [Twelve songs of Tosan] by Yi Hwang, “Kosan kugogga” [Nine songs of Kosan] by Yi I, and “Ŏbu sasisa” [The fisherman’s calendar] by Yun Sŏndo. In late Chosŏn the number of segments greatly expanded, thus forming the new style of sasŏl (narrative) sijo. These two forms of cycle and narrative sijo can be seen as transformations of p’yŏng sijo that enabled satisfying the creative desire of composer.

The Ideological Foundations of Sijo and Kangho-ga to As sijo was the creation of the literati, its aesthetic is based in Neo-Confucianism. NeoConfucianism, or sŏngni-hak, is a branch of Confucianism, which defined the objective law of the universe and nature as i (principle) and pursued i as an ideology. I is a universal principle that moves the heavens, earth and all creatures. When applying this to the human world, it becomes the rationale

or practical law that humans should follow as a matter of course. Accordingly, Neo-Confucianism held the cultivation of the moral self as its core tenet, which resulted in strict ethical rules for life. The stylized and elegant beauty of sijo was very proper to express such a worldview and lifestyle.

Going through tumultuous period of founding Chosŏn and entering the sixteenth century, the dynasty came to have constructed sound political and literary foundations. A perfect space for the literati to realize universal ethics through moral cultivation was nothing other than the beauty of nature kangho chayŏn), because they believed that the principles governing the universe could be found in the unchanging properties of nature. Such tendency can be termed “a discovery of natural beauty.”

This ideological backdrop is the reason that songs of nature formed the main currency for sijo in early Chosŏn. Of course the natural beauty reflected in these songs also experienced transformations according to the ebb of time. This was because the view of the world and emotions transmitted in nature continuously changed according to periodical circumstances or a given writer’s political standpoint. In short, although it was the same nature, its meaning differed according to the writer’s ideology or situation.

As summer comes to the lake, there is no work at the thatched cottage, The truthful waves raise the very wind, My body feels cool, of course thanks to the grace of my lord.

The above sijo depicting summer was written by Maeng Sasŏng, a high-ranking official in early Chosŏn, and is the second of four pieces of the sijo cycle “Kangho sasi-ga” [Song of four seasons by the rivers and lakes]. “Kangho sasi-ga” is the first cycle sijo as well as a work that adorned the beginning of the songs of nature. This work is, as its title implies, a song of enjoying a leisurely life in nature during spring, summer, fall, and winter.

The poetic speaker in the above song considers all his free time and leisurely mood are thanks to the grace of the king. This informs that nature, the background of this poem, features a harmonized relationship with the political reality the poetic speaker belongs to. Namely he did not consider nature as disconnected place from reality or as an escape, but rather considered it as a continued space of the political reality that the king’s grace thoroughly reached.

This aspect of sijo in early Chosŏn showed a considerably different look by the sixteenth century as we see in the poems of the representative Sarimp’a poets of that time, Yi Hyŏnbo and Yi Hwang.

Looking down, green waters for a thousand fathoms, turning back, ten thousand green mountains pile up.

How much of the ten feet of red dust is concealed?

As the moon shines bright on rivers and lakes, my mind becomes lighter than ever.

The above poem is one piece of “Ŏbu-ga” [Song of fishermen], the cycle sijo by Yi

Hyŏngbo. Here the nature described in “green waters for a thousand fathoms” and “ten thousand green mountains pile up” is a completely disconnected space from the secular world, described as the ten feet of red dust. The writer sings of such a disinterested beatitude in this disconnected space. Here we see nature is no longer in harmony with reality, and rather has become a space which was all the better as it became more distanced from the reality. Then what was the way of life they pursued in nature? The next piece answers this, The ancients cannot see me, nor can I see the ancients, Although I cannot see the ancients, the road they trod lies before me, On the road they trod before me, what can I do but go forward.

The above is one poem of “Tosan sibi-gok” [Twelve songs of Tosan] by Yi Hwang. The intent of the writer is very simple and remains constant through the whole cycle of twelve songs: to comprehend the principles of the universe harmonized with and in nature. The above poem states a concrete method of practice. That is, the way that the ancient sages pursued lies in front of him, and thus he has no other choice but to move forward although he cannot see these men. The passion of truth overcomes the chronological distance and bonds the poetic speaker with ancients into one.

As such, the nature manifested in sijo of the sixteenth century was one isolated from the turbid political realities and depicted as a space where one could pursue academic truth. Of course behind this dichotomy that completely separated nature from reality, was the consciousness reflecting the repeated failures of the Sarimp’a in their confrontations with the Hungup’a. There was no space but the beauty of nature where those of the Sarmip’a could return after tasting severe failures in political battles. They lived in nature while cultivating their studies and with the pride of searching for the truths of Neo-Confucianism. This is the reason this whole chain of works is especially referred to as the kangho-ga to, or “songs of the Way (i.e., Confucianism) in nature.”

The flow of these songs continued after this, but by the end of the sixteenth century the inner meaning came to change little by little. In the works of Yi I, such as “Kosan kugogga” [Nine songs of Kosan] or those of Sin Hŭm, the image of men in nature surrounded by beautiful scenery and taking pleasure in this beauty are more prominent than any serious passion concerning morality. In other words, the aspect of aesthetic enjoyment became wider rather than the philosophical color. The individual that demonstrates such a transformation most vividly is Yun Sŏndo and his work of “Ŏbu sasisa” [The fisherman’s calendar] that will be discussed in the following chapter.

Open Form Literature, Kasa As mentioned above, kasa has a wide range of content unlike other lyrical poems although it is a type of verse. These contents are truly vast and feature descriptions of individual emotions, a long narrative descriptive structure, and real-life stories and experiences. It is natural that the contents of

kasa are various because there was no other restriction in the form except that the verse is always in a four-segment form. There was, of course, no specific restriction either in the subject or materials of these poems.

However, the open features seen in kasa were not identically expressed throughout time.

These poem-songs also experienced many changes according to periodical background. Since the main writers of these works were the literati class in the early Chosŏn, we see similar themes such as in the songs of nature or expressing gratitude towards the king as found in sijo. Engaging with the special features of content, there is a peculiar completing structure found in kasa of early Chosŏn. Regardless of length, the same four-segment completing structure as in the final line of sijo is applied in the last phrase of these kasa. The same structure of the final line with three syllables in the first segment and five or more syllables in the second segment also was used in these songs. This style of kasa is thus termed regular form kasa (chŏnggyŏk kasa), and deeply related to the lyrical tendency that the early Chosŏn kasa carried. When the poetic form was focused on emotional expression, in general the property to complete the flow of emotion became stronger and was realized with the regular structure of the final phrase.

As various matters concerning reality seeped into the kasa form around the seventeenth century, the frame of this regular kasa disappeared. In general, works after this middle period commonly maintain the structure of four segments per line and transposing three or four syllables per segment throughout the work until the final line. This is noticeable from the point that this change is deeply related to the tendency of the open form of the kasa genre becoming even broader.

Kasa Works Extolling Nature The main current of the early Chosŏn kasa was also nature like in sijo. Works that welldemonstrate this include “Sangch’un-gok” [Song to the spring] by Chŏng Kŭgin and “Myŏnangjŏngga” [Song of Myŏnangjŏng] composed by Song Sun. Various songs depicted scholars, who had stepped away from the turbid and vulgar discord of the world, becoming intimate with nature while cultivating their minds. These works were also called kangho-ga to from the point that they not only described life experiences or scenery, but also pursued a unification of the ego and non-ego in a harmonious world order.

“Sangch’un-gok” which is counted as the first kasa of the Chosŏn dynasty is the composition of a retired government official who lived an isolated life in nature. The writer, Chŏng Kŭgin (1401-1481), left his position in his later years and returned to his home village. It was at this time he composed “Sangch’un-gok” and expressed the pleasure of enjoying nature. This work has a three part structure of introduction, body, and conclusion and begins with, “People living in the dusty world, how about the life of mine? / Does it or does it not match the lives of the ancients?” Here we see an expression of the writer’s pride whose life in nature is comparable even to the refined lives of the ancients.

The body of the work colorfully depicts the scene of fields in the newly arrived spring and the writer’s poetic fever intoxicated with such scenery. Looking at the fields with, “Peach blossoms and apricot blossoms/ Bloom in the evening sun / Willows and grasses/ All the more verdant in the drizzling rain,” the writer cannot but exclaim such great scenic beauty. To fully enjoy such a wonderful taste of scenery, he leisurely walks around the mountains and fields, enjoys fishing, and drinks wine near a streamlet. In this leisurely scenery of nature, the pleasure of the ego and non-ego unifying results in an even more intense elation, and finally the poet drunkenly arrives at the realization that this space he lives in is a utopia. In conclusion of the work, the poet confesses that he cannot help living with a blue wind and a bright moon as friends since honor and wealth shun him.

The purpose of such a confession is twofold. While it is somewhat suppressed, he laments to himself with a mixed resignation that he must be content amid his poverty while pursuing the Way, although he dreams of again rising in the world and gaining fame. However, at the same time there is an expression of pride in “What would you say to one hundred years/ Of unceasing pleasure such as this?” Similar to the aforementioned “Ŏbu-ga” and “Tosan sibi-gok,” the worldview of the sarim demonstrates discord between political realities and nature. The delicate discord between “going forward with the political realities” and “stepping backwards to nature,” and the psychological tension and relaxation that were derived from it were the identity that caused these men to continually compose such songs, and “Sangch’un-gok” is a typical example.

The vein of kangho-ga to is subsequently continued in “Myŏnangjŏng-ga” of Song Sun (1493-1583). Song, whose pen name was Myŏnangjŏng, served as a government official until old, but after retiring from officialdom he returned to Tamyang of Chŏlla Province where he associated with the literary men of Kwangju and Naju, and lived out his life pursuing refinement. Kwangju and Naju were places the sarim of the Honam region gathered, and also the places where the outstanding literary men and scholars who brightened the Chosŏn dynasty such as Kim Inhu, Im Che, and Ki Taesŭng came from.

“Myŏnangjŏng-ga” is a work created on the base of such a country village culture, and that sang the beautiful sentiments of Myŏnangjŏng where Song stayed. Myŏnangjŏng is the name of a pavilion that stands to the right center of Chewŏl Peak, part of the Mudŭng Mountains. The writer sings of the view from the Pavilion and of the beautiful scenery of the four seasons as well as the gusto of being one with nature and enjoying its elegance. The poet, enjoying the wind, greeting the moon, picking up chestnuts, or fishing, fully enjoyed the pleasure of being one with nature. Towards the end of the song, the poet writes of listening to music on the kayagŭm (twelve-stringed zither) and haegŭm (a fiddle) harmonized with songs, and creates a song even more imbued with elegance.

The Daoist hermit-like attitude that most carefully captures the lively motions of nature, and manages a life together with that rhythm is the aesthetic core of “Myŏnangjŏng-ga.” From this aspect, it can be said that this work made the literary meaning of the kangho-ga to tradition even deeper.

The Alchemists of the Korean Language, Songgang and Kosan Sijo and kasa, going through the seventeenth century, approached a period of full maturity.

At this time, the two most outstanding composers of these genres came to the fore, Songgang Chŏng Ch’ŏl and Kosan Yun Sŏndo. The works of Chŏng Ch’ŏl, pen name Songgang, are the zenith of kasa literature, while the poetry of Yun Sŏndo, pen name Kosan, is the pinnacle of sijo literature. This is, more than anything else, because they used Korean language very delicately as well as beautifully.

They can thus be called the alchemists of the Korean language.

Chŏng lived through the Hideyoshi invasions (1592-1598) while Yun experienced the Manchu invasions (1627, 1636). Moreover, this time was a period of heightened factionalism and nonstop political disputes. It could be said an irony of history that the most excellent poetic works were created in a period of war or intense political squabbles. Regardless, Korean poetic literature reached its culmination through these two men, and foretold of a newly arriving sensibility as well as an indication of distinction in late Chosŏn.

The Life of Songgang Chŏng Ch’ŏl Chŏng Ch’ŏl was born in Hanyang (modern day Seoul) in 1536. When he was nine, the Purge of 1545 (Ŭlsa sahwa) occurred and as his brother-in-law was involved in the political purge, his family was scattered. His family thus moved to Ch’angp'yŏng in Tamyang of Southern Chŏlla Province.

The outstanding scenery of Ch’angp'yŏng not only deeply influenced his youth but also served as a mental refugee for Chŏng who returned here every time he was in trouble. In this place, his scholarship was deeply influenced by famous men of the day such as Song Sun, Kim Inhu, and Ki Taesŭng.

At twenty-six (1562), Songgang finally passed the government service examination with the highest score and was awarded a government position. From this time, his life was an ongoing surge of raging waves. For the first hardship, there was an incident in which Prince Yŏngyang, an elder cousin of King Myŏngjong (r. 1545-1567) seized all the property of his wife’s family and killed his wife’s brother. Songgang was charged with handling this matter, and in spite of Myŏngjong’s cordial request to the contrary, he followed the letter of the law and executed the prince. As a result, he was appraised for his straightforward decisiveness, but also evaluated as a madman who made enemies in each of the four directions.

However, this incident was but a prelude, and his real troubles arose when he stood in the center of the political strife. This was the time of the height of Easterner (Tongin) and Westerner (Sŏin) political factions, and Chŏng, as the head of the Westerners, was confronted with the power of the Easterners. In this political turmoil, Chŏng suffered repeated failures and counterattacks. Such literary masterpieces as “Sŏngsan pyŏlgok” [Songs of Sŏngsan],” Kwandong pyŏlgok” [Song of Kwandong], “Samiin-gok” [Song of constancy], and “Sok miin-gok” [Continued song of constancy] were all composed in this swirl of factional strife.

The Rebellion of Chŏng Yŏrip occurred in 1589 and changed his life once again. King Sŏnjo (r. 1567-1608) placed Chŏng in charge of the investigation of this incident, and in the process of examining this case Chŏng executed many scholars of the Easterner faction. Thus, he again came to make numerous enemies and finally was dismissed from his post and exiled due to attacks of the Easterner faction. During his exile, the Hideyoshi invasions occurred and in the midst of the war he finished his life endlessly negotiating peaks and valleys.

The World of Songgang’s Kasa Among the kasa of Chŏng, “Kwandong pyŏlgok” is appraised as most outstanding. He composed this poem at age forty-four after he was appointed Governor of Kangwŏn Province. Two years earlier he had already composed “Sŏngsan pyŏlgok” when he returned to his hometown after having been relieved of his post as Sixth Royal Secretary. Sŏngsan is a mountain located in Chigok Village of Tamyang, South Chŏlla Province. This poem sings of the scenery of the mountains and rivers in this region and was heavily influenced by “Myŏnangjŏng-ga” composed by Song Sun, the leading literary man of the Honam region. However the language use of this work is more or less crude and coarse, and does not have any particular point which differs from the rest of the songs of the natural beauty of nature. It could be considered a type of practice writing before he composed his masterpiece. From such a stance, the excellence of “Kwandong pyŏlgok” was not a sudden occurrence, but rather an accomplishment of language training through his earlier work as well as a continuation of the vein of the literary current of the Honam region.

“Kwandong pyŏlgok” is a composition of when Songgang returned to the political reality while “Sŏngsan pyŏlgok” was composed when he was leaving his official position. Perhaps due to this, there was an effusive excitement and pride in every step he took stemming from the king’s summons.

And this ample pride met the excellent scenery of Kangwŏn Province and created surprising descriptions throughout the work. The journey was towards the East Sea from Manp’oktong through the Kŭmgang, Chinhŏl, Kaesim, and Puljŏng terraces. From that point, he passed though Ch’ongsŏk Pavilion, Samilp’o Lake, and Ŭisang and Kyŏngp’o terraces, before finally arriving at Mangyang Pavilion where he enjoyed the sunrise. Indeed, Songgang passed through all the famous spots of the Kwandong region. Whenever he arrived and saw the spectacular scenery, he was drenched in the spectacle and freely wielded the paint brush of language. Readers lose track of the fact that this is a travel sketch and become immersed in the lyrical excitement from scene to scene.

The very famous line of “a silver-like rainbow, a dragon’s tail like jade” is a description of the spectacular scenery of Manp’oktong waterfall. In this line, Chŏng did not simply capture the flow of the waterfall in a plane description but rather three dimensionally painted the powerful movement of it with a rainbow and the movement of dragon’s tail. Such a feature is very helpful in capturing the visual and acoustic wonders of the waterfall. In the shapes of the 12,000 peaks of the Kŭmgang Mountains described next, metaphor and inversion, description of the scenery and his emotions freely

mingled, and the sentiment of the objects and the writer mutually ascended. The special character of “Kwandong pyŏlgok” lies in the point that it rejected conventional rhetoric, exposed the animated features of the scenery, and shook to waken the sensibilities and sentiments of the readers.

The ideological foundation expressed in “Kwandong pyŏlgok” was first that of a Confucian scholar. Songgang scaled Piro Peak and esteemed Confucius who deemed the universe small, and looking at Hwaryongso Pond he indicated his political ambition which was abundant like a three-day rain (i.e., sufficient). This is actually a conventional aspect which can be seen the works of the other literati. Yet, he did not stop at this point but burst out here and there with a romantic passion to escape vulgar life and fully enjoy extensive mental freedom. The realization of political ideology and a passion about romantic refinement flow through the entire poem without contradiction. The scenery of the spectacular Kwandong region must have generated such an aspect of this work. Endless yearning and passion for the vast world while not escaping from reality would have caused the inspiration to aesthetically animate the natural scenic beauty.

“Samiin-gok” and “Sok miin-gok” are works that continued the historical poetic current of ch’ungsin yŏnju chisa, or songs expressing admiration towards the monarch. Such a literary form as this was first seen in China and common throughout East Asia. Accordingly, these two poems of Songgang were both a continuation of the Chinese vein and also that of the Koryŏ kayo.

“Saminin-gok” is a song of a women’s lamentation after being deserted by her lover and falling to the earth. The theme of the work is that she does not give up her passion for her lover in this desperate situation although there is a great distance between the two. The woman’s longing for her lover is concretely correlated with the four seasons of spring, summer, fall, and winter, in the text of the song. The female voice states that she wishes to send sweet-scented apricot blossoms in the spring, clothing made by her own hands and with the utmost sincerity in the summer, clear sunshine that could brighten up a deep valley like daytime in the autumn, and the warm spring air in the winter. These objects are all symbolic intermediaries that hold the speaker’s deep love. In the final stanza, the narrator states that she will become a tiger butterfly after death and follow her love.

“Sok miin-gok” can be said a continuation of “Samiin-gok” and was composed to voice what had not been expressed in the earlier song. However, it is not simply a sequel, but rather ought to be viewed as an independent work that exceeds “Samiin-gok” in both expression and sentiment.

This work uses a dialogue-style of narration that features a woman abandoned by her lover lamenting to another woman she meets on the street. While the emotions of “Sa miin-gok” stem from more or less splendid expressions, “Sok miin-gok” is formed with naïve and plain folksong-like language. This is deeply related to the fact that the woman described in this work is close to the figure of a commoner who is spontaneous and truthful. The speaker is not emotionally drawn into the sadness of separation but rather concretely ponders on the daily life of her loved one. Also, the poetic speaker mindlessly chases to mountains and seas to hear the news of where her love stays.

Yet, the news of her lover becomes even more distant as she is obstructed by clouds and fog in the mountains, and wind and waves at the seashore. Her love becomes even firmer as the situation

worsens. Thus, as in “Sa miin-gok,” this song concludes with the heartbreaking revelation that she wishes to die and become the moon so that she can shine into the room her lover stays in through a window.

These two songs of passionate loyalty towards the king composed in delicate and unadorned Korean language represent one peak of songs expressing admiration for the monarch in Korean literature. Furthermore, the virtue of these works lies in the fact that they go beyond the relations of king and vassal, but more deeply expresses universal human emotions of separation and yearning. For this reason, “Sok miin-gok” slipped out of the ideology of the Confucian literati in late Chosŏn and changed into a heartbreaking love song widely enjoyed by many people.

Kosan Yun Sŏndo and His Life Yun Sŏndo was born in 1587, that is, towards the end of Chŏng Ch’ŏl’s life. He likewise was born in Hanyang, but as he was adopted by his father’s older brother at eight, he came to have bonds with the southern area of Haenam. He spent quite a lonely youth in Haenam, and from that point, he was very different from Chŏng who had deep exchanges with and was influenced by the literary men of the Honam region. In such lonesomeness, Kosan acquired an encyclopedic knowledge in many fields such as the Classics, medicine, divination, and the principles of yin and yang. Resultant from such scholarship, he was able to become the private tutor of two royal princes, Pongnim and Inp’yŏng.

Like Chŏng, Yun also experienced numerous hardships living in a period of extreme factionalism. He advanced to a government position after passing the government service examination at twenty-six, and at thirty he petitioned the throne condemning Yi Ich’ŏm for misuse of political power and as a result was exiled for seven years. Subsequently, he experienced a repeated cycle of exiles and reappointments.

As Kosan underwent the difficulties of the Manchu Invasion of 1636, his life came to face a new turning point. After hearing of the invasion he went with his family to Kanghwa Island; however, the invaders already occupied the island and King Injo (r. 1623-1649) had disgracefully capitulated to the Manchu army at Namhansan Fortress. From this time, he turned away from all the matters of the world, and secluded himself in Kŭmswae-dong on Pogil Island. It was at this time that most of his sijo were composed. Pogil Island is an isolated island off the southwestern coast of the peninsula where few people lived. He moved to Puyong-dong, even more isolated, and enjoyed his lofty solitude while pursuing refinement until the end of his life.

Similar to Chŏng, his excellent works were created against the backdrop of factional strife and national crisis. However, there is an unavoidable and important issue for understanding his life and literature besides such conditions, that being his economic wherewithal. He was the owner of a tremendous amount of land; so much so, he could be said one of the wealthiest men of his time. This fortune was bequeathed him by his adopted father, his father’s older brother. Kosan had control of an

immense estate and thus enjoyed his life as a wealthy landowner to the utmost. He built numerous pavilions in the Kŭmswae-dong area, landscaped the island, dug a pond and directed a stream flowing from Puyong-dong to that pond, establishing literally an earthly paradise.

The Vivid Depictions in “Ŏbu sasisa” Kosan’s famous poem “Ou-ga” [Song of five friends] begins, “How many friends have I? / There are water, stone, pine, and bamboo. / As the moon rises over the mountain, / I am even more delighted.” Water, stone, pine, bamboo, and the moon are the five friends of the poet.

To Kosan who spent his whole life in solitude, this cannot be a simple poetic pose. Rather, he must have been truly intoxicated with the natural beauty of the world without any motive. Beauty of the natural world of the mountains and waters of Pogil Island and Puyong-dong, disconnected from the vulgar world to such a degree it is referred to as “the end of the land,” and a landscape well designed with an eye towards beauty, accomplished through his tremendous wealth; “Ŏbu sasisa,” was accomplished not simply from an imaginary scene, but from his poetic sentiments meeting the pinnacle of natural beauty extended before his eyes. It can be said an enterprise of a new stage in the literary current of kangho-ga to. start It is well known that “Ŏbu sasisa” was built upon an old and deep tradition of “songs of fishermen.” From a work on fishermen by Qu Yuan (343?-277? BCE) of China to the “Ŏbu-ga” of the Koryŏ period, fishermen had been one of the main poetic motifs in East Asian literature of the feudal age. This motif was positively accepted by the Neo-Confucian literati of Chosŏn and became one current of literature, the beginning of which was “Ŏbu-ga” by Yi Hyŏnbo (1467-1555). Yi refined and changed the heretofore transmitted “Obu-ga” to match his own standards of beauty, and systemized this into two sijo cycles, one of nine pieces and the other of five. The worldview and beauty that was reflected in Yi Hyŏnbo’s “Ŏbu-ga” both directly and indirectly influenced famous literary men of the age such as T’oegye Yi Hwang (1501-1570) or Yulgok Yi I (1536-1584) and reached to Yun Sŏndo. Namely Yun’s “Ŏbu sasisa” is a continuation of Yi Hyŏnbo’s “Ŏbu-ga” in a narrow sense, and in a wide sense, was generated based on the tradition of kangho-ga to.

However, “Ŏbu sasisa” has a different quality of beauty from “Ŏbu-ga” or other works in the vein of kangho-ga to. First from the aspect of form, “Ŏbu sasisa” is a cycle sijo that consists of ten poems for each season, a total of forty pieces. As such, it is not only abundant in quantity, but also each piece is developed according to the flow of time, creating a completed form in the whole work.

Moreover, such a feature as this tells us that Yun accepted the vigor of enjoying life in nature and forms a consensus with nature more sensitively than any other poet. While Yi Hyŏnbo’s “Ŏbu-ga” carries a binary structure of the turbid political realities and pristine natural beauty, Yun’s poem overflows with the pleasure and satisfaction generated from a life in nature as well as enhanced vigor itself stemming from this. Of course, he too distinguished nature from reality and intended to stay as far

as possible from turbid reality. This is manifested in expressions such as “‘Looking back at the human world, the farther, the better,” or “How much of the human world is concealed?” Nonetheless, the psychological complex that the literati generally had concerning the political realities was greatly diluted in “Ŏbu sasisa.” This arose from Yun’s individual disposition, and also from the aspect that the political realities of the seventeenth century permitted this no longer. For a member of the defeated Southerner faction in the political strife, there was no space to have any lingering attachment for politics, which could have functioned as a primary factor for his complete intoxication with the beauty of nature.

Illuminated with fine sunshine, waves are like glossy oil.

Iŏra, iŏra Shall we throw a net, or cast a fishing line?

Chigukch’ong chigukch’ong ŏsawa Drenched with the excitement of songs, I forget all about fishing.

In the above poem, “iŏra iŏra” and “chigukch’ong chigukch’ong ŏsawa” are refrains that function to heighten the excitement of poem. The poem describes smooth and fine waves illuminated by the spring sunshine and a figure of an old fisherman fishing in a boat. In the last line, the poetic speaker was immersed in exhilaration brought about by the natural scenery. Although such creative fever as this continued the vein of kangho-ga to from the point that it was a life of unifying the ego and non-ego that the literati dreamed of, the nature described here is not a realization of the propriety and decorum of Neo-Confucianism, but rather the object of an extremely sensational and concrete appreciation. From this very aspect, “Ŏbu sasisa” creates a new aesthetic of beauty. The lyrical quality flowing throughout the whole work and natural tone of language are also related to such a feature. So to speak, as the shadow of Confucian ideology was removed, the vivid beauty of native language flowed from the poem. Thus, kangho-ga to reached its peak in “Ŏbu sasisa” and at the same time entered a new stage of poetic history.

Compositions in Literary Chinese of Mid-Chosŏn Early Chosŏn Hansi and the Haedong kangsŏ School of Poetry Political disturbances were endless from early to middle Chosŏn, and this period concluded with the major wars of the Hideyoshi and Manchu invasions in succession. We can understand this period of mid-Chosŏn as a truly turbulent time. Yet, in this same time frame, splendid literary flowers blossomed in Korea as not before seen.

In early Chosŏn, the poetic style for hansi, poems written in literary Chinese, was a Song dynasty form that followed a poetic style continued from late Koryŏ. A common saying when the roster of the thirty-three successful candidates for the government service examination was released was, “the thirty-three poets of Su Dongpo have come forth!” This was because the poems of Su Dongpo (the pen name of Su Shi [1036-1101]) were studied as a general textbook.

The literary flow that represented the Song-style poetry from the time of King Sŏngjong (r.

1469-1494) to that of King Sŏnjo (r. 1567-1608) is called the Haedong kangsŏ (Eastern Jiangxi) School of poetry. The poets of this group rebelled against the practice of following hansi partial to only Su Dongpo in vogue since late Koryŏ, and alternatively studied the composition styles of Huang Tingjian (1045-1105) and others of the Chinese Jiangxi School of poetry. The Jiangxi poets explained the concrete method for composition of hansi case by case, and presented the results and theoretical outcome of deep studies on how to use characters and arrange phrases.

Since the time of Sŏngjong, purges of scholars happened regularly, and caused literary men to retire from the political battle lines and enter an environment where they could devote themselves to poetic creation. Poets such as Pak Ŭn, Yi Haeng, Pak Sang, Chŏng Saryong, No Susin, and Hwang Chŏnguk can be counted as members of the Eastern Jiangxi School. They were heavily influenced by men such as Huang Tingjian and deeply studied the methods of poetic composition and practiced this by creating poems. These men particularly concentrated on polishing poetic language. They strengthened the tension of poems by boldly using peculiar Chinese characters, or succeeded in securing originality by using forbidden particles in poems. They sometimes used the terms of the scriptures as they were, positively applied the names of places, people or positions in Chosŏn, and succeeded in giving a sense of reality to readers.

The Mongnŭng Literary Circle and the Three Tang Poets The poets of Eastern Jiangxi School were excessively restricted by poetic technique and embellishment, used unusual authentic precedents that general people would not know of, applied uncanny wordings, and created poems that were too difficult. Accordingly, the sarim criticized this poetic style and rather advocated a clear spiritual world based on the introspection of one’s mind, but only emphasizing a certain aspect of human sentiment. Consequently, Song-style poetry began to exhibit gradual change from the mid-sixteenth century and by the late sixteenth to early seventeenth

century, Tang-style poetry came to form the main current of the poetic world. This period was the zenith of Korean literature in literary Chinese from both the aspect of writers and quality of the works.

However, factional strife intensified in this period and the Hideyoshi invasions occurred as well, thus marking a time of disorder and turbulence inside and outside of the country. The whirlwind of party strife without justice or morality and psychological devastation sparked by the wars resulted in a great change in the people’s views of world and life. Accordingly the establishment of new rules and forms that differed from the heretofore-legitimate regulations and tastes was required even in the sphere of the arts.

Rising from this and gathering strength was the School of Tang-style poetry that rejected the complexities of Jiangxi School poetry and appealed to universal human sentiments. Adding to this was the influence of the revival literary movement of Ming China that placed importance in learning the writings of the Jin-Han period (3rd cent. BCE- 2nd cent. CE) and poetry of the Chengtang (705-779) period. The writers at the fore of this movement in Korea were Ch’oe Kyŏngch’ang, Paek Kwanghun, and Yi Tal, who are called the Three Tang Poets in literary history.

Their works were simple yet excelling in pictorial beauty as well as honestly expressing human sentiments, and garnered a great response from the general public.

After the Three Tang Poets, other prominent writers such as Kwŏn P’il, Yi Annul, Hŏ Kyun, and Chŏng Tugyŏng came forth and created ancient-style hansi poems. While the poems of Three Tang Poets emphasized the pursuit of pictorial beauty and expressions of delicate sentiment, the ancient-style poets favored magnanimous and grand-scaled poems, and thereby expanded the domain of the School of Tang-style poetry.

Accordingly the works that sang of love between men and women in a lyrical style became highly popular and other poems that pursued lyrical rhythms in a folklore style and romantic imagination of yearning for the Daoist world were frequently created. The creation of poems accompanying paintings was also remarkable. The Song-style poetry that had been in favor for nearly three-hundred years, disappeared in but twenty or thirty years as if washed away, and literary talents only spoke of Tang poetry. This period was a time that people opened their eyes anew to the beauty of words in literary Chinese poetry.

Rediscovery of Ancient Writings and the Four Masters of Literary Chinese After the mid-Chosŏn period, ancient writings rose as an object of full-scaled interest. Of course earlier in Koryŏ, there had been the biographies in the Samguk sagi by Kim Pusik and towards the end of the dynasty there had been advocates of the ancient styles of writing such as Yi Chehyŏn. However, the introduction of Neo-Confucian ideology in late Koryŏ resulted in the prevalence of colloquial style prose instead of the legitimate ancient writing style. Recognition and debate about ancient style writings heightened during the reign of King Sŏnjo (1567-1608). Even earlier during the reign of Chungjong (1506-1544) literary debates between the Sarimp’a and

Sajangp’a (prose and poem faction) strengthened awareness concerning the harmonious balance of content and form. Neo-Confucianism became solidly entrenched in Chosŏn after the appearance of men like Yi Hwang and Yi I, and the sudden interest in literature rose to a heretofore not seen zenith and led to the prospering of literary circles.

Literary circles in Ming China at this time were focused on a veneration of ancient literary forms. These groups held that prose from the Jin-Han dynasties and the poetry of the Cheng-tang should be learned. Such a stance spread to the literary circles of Chosŏn, and thus a trend to learn Tang-style poetry and to create prose styles with the Confucian Classics as models prevailed.

Ch’oe Rip was a writer who became famous for excelling in Jin-Han-style prose. However, the four most famous writers at the time of King Sŏnjo were Yi Chŏnggwi, Sin Hŭm, Chang Yu, and Yi Sik. These men were called the Four Masters of Literary Chinese, and made their names known as representative writers of this period. Their prose was based on that of the Eight Masters of Tang and Song and retraced the ancient works, thereby contributing to the explication of Confucian principles.

These writers excluded the technical aspects of writing and aimed at a simplicity that was easy to understand but still carried deep implications. Also, they recognized that writing should change with time, and thus rejected the blind revival of the old and emphasized the justification of changes.

Such an attitude is certainly distinct from the literary veneration of ancient writings in Ming China. Chosŏn writers, to achieve simplicity as well as clarity, analyzed sentence structure and put forth efforts in composition and creation, thus opening a new stage that the writings of the former period did not reach. A special characteristic of the Four Masters of Literary Chinese was in declaring Confucian principals, abandoning the habits of poems and prose that sought splendor, and pursuing a simple and clear practicality that had accord of content and form.

Chang Yu compared rhetoric to flowers and content to fruit, writing that bearing fruit was most important, even without flowers; this was preferable to having only flowers and no fruit. Namely, he emphasized that moral content was more significant than writing technique. He did, however, state that rhetoric in writing was necessary to fully convey the principles of the writing without misunderstanding.

While the ancient-style doctrine of the Four Masters fundamentally pursued harmony of content and form, Kim Ch’anghyŏp of the following period specifically focused on the details of literary creation. He explained the need to pay attention to each writing style, put forth a means to distinguish the good and bad points of writing, and disclosed how to effectively use grammatical particles. Additionally, Kim systemically arranged even the trends in Chinese literary circles of the day and greatly influenced the literary theory of the following generations. Kim further strove to remove from writings the old and stale expressions already used by others, and pursued writing that was simple but changeable.

The Advent of the Han’gŭl Novel In 1443 King Sejong created the Hunmin chŏngŭm, meaning the correct sounds for teaching the people. Thus the Korean language came to be easily and conveniently recorded due to the creation of the script known as han’gŭl. This new script greatly changed the general language life of the people, and was an important moment for the growth of the Korean novel. Writings before the creation of the Korean alphabet could not but rely on borrowed writing systems such as Chinese characters or idu. In the case of a novel that contains many concrete and detailed items and that should be expressed at length, it was extremely difficult to create unless it was at the hand of a highly educated man of literary talent. Moreover, since novels are not something essential to actual life, to undergo the difficulties in writing a novel in literary Chinese was not an easy task even though one wished to do so. It was not easy to write a novel in the idu writing system either. As han’gŭl was created in such an environment, notwithstanding the objections of a considerable number of scholars and government officials, it spread widely in a brief instant.

Sŏl Kongch’an-jŏn of Ch’ae Su The first record of a novel written in the Korean script is noted in the dynastic records of 1511. This record informs that Ch’ae Su composed a chŏn’gi novel (tale of wonder) in literary Chinese, which was later translated into han’gŭl and widely read. Sŏl Kongch’an-jŏn [The tale of Sŏl Kongch’an] is a work based on rumors of the time. Only part of this novel has been transmitted to the present and that narrative is as follows.

Sŏl Ch’ungnan who lived in Sunch’ang of Chŏlla Province had a son and a daughter.

However his daughter died right after she married, and his son Kongch’an also died from disease even before he was able to marry. The spirit of Kongch’an’s sister appeared in the house of Sŏl Ch’ungsu, the younger brother of Sŏl Ch’ungnan, and entered the body of Sŏl Kongch’im, the son of Ch’ungsu. As the spirit entered Kongch’im’s body, he became ill and bedridden. Thus, Ch’ungsu summoned a shaman and tried to exorcise the ghost. Now, even Kongch’an as well assisted his sister and went in and out of his cousin’s body and bothered Kongch’im. In the process, Kongch’an told the story of the next world to the people as his cousin.

The motif of a dead person’s spirit returning and meeting the living has already been seen in narratives such as “Ch’oe Ch’iwŏn” and the motif of a spirit entering another’s body is seen in Wang Rang panhon-jŏn [The returned spirit of Wang Rang]. Thus, Sŏl Kongch’an-jŏn is a work that modified and restructured older narratives already in circulation.

After Ch’ae composed this work he was relived of his official position. Ch’ae had served as Minister of the Board of Taxation, and was a meritorious retainer involved in the restoration of the throne to Chungjong (r. 1506-1544), and even held the title of Duke of Inch’ŏn, thus ranking as one of the highest men in society. Yet, he lost his position for merely creating a fickle story such as Sŏl

Kongch’an-jŏn. As it is not easy to uncover another reason for his fall from the present limited data, we can see that the form of the novel was held in contempt by official Confucian society of Chosŏn.

As the account concerning Sŏl Kongch’an-jŏn in the dynastic records of Chosŏn reveals, there were already ungrounded and fickle collections of narratives in circulation such as Chinese works T’ai ping guang ji [Extensive gleanings of the reign of Great Tranquility] and Jiandeng xinhua [New tales written while cutting the wick], and the Korean collection T’aep’yŏng hanhwa kolgyejŏn [Idle talk in a peaceful era]. In spite of that, only Sŏl Kongch’an-jŏn became a matter of the court, most likely because they could not ignore the reality of it being translated into the Korean script and thus widely read.

The Translation and Propagation of Wu lun quan bei ji The fact that Chinese novels were translated into han’gŭl and widely disseminated can be known by a 1531 account stating that Chinese fiction such as Wu lun quan bei ji [Notations on the complete tale of the five relations] had been translated and further embellished into a han’gŭl novel titled Oryun chŏn-jŏn [The complete tale of the five relations] and was owned by and read in every household. This record further states that ignorant people in the street learned han’gŭl, copied old orally transmitted stories into han’gŭl, and talked of these day and night. From this we can see that not even one hundred years after the creation of the Hunmin chŏngŭm, han’gŭl renditions of Korean novels originally written in literary Chinese or of Chinese novels were quite commonly circulated even to the low social classes.

Various Forms of Sixteenth Century Narrative Literature and the Import of Ming Novels In sixteenth century, besides the chŏn’gi novels, various narratives such as Taegwanjae kimong [Dream record of Taegwanjae] by Sim Ŭi, Wŏnsaeng mongyu-rok [Dream record of Mr. Wŏn] by Im Che, and Ch’ŏngun-jŏn [Tales of the human mind] by Kim Uong were created.

Additionally, new genres such as the dream record (mongyu-rok) and the novel of the human mind (ch’ŏngun sosŏl) appeared. With the active creation of narratives in literary Chinese as well as the import of Chinese novels and the use of han’gŭl, the growth of the novel genre was significant. One example is the Chinese San guo zhi yan yi [Romance of the Three Kingdoms] which entered Korea at this time and was one of the most widely read works in late Chosŏn as well as even today. An entry in the dynastic record of 1569 demonstrates the reality of San guo zhi yan yi being read and also that Chu Han yan yi [Romance of the Chu and Han] and not a few similar works were also in circulation. Accordingly we can surmise that numerous Chinese works were imported during this time. And based on the tendency of active translations into han’gŭl at the time, a considerable number among these works were already translated into han’gŭl and broadly enjoyed.

As we can see from the few examples above, the genre of the novel experienced great growth

due to the creation of the han’gŭl script. Since this was easy to learn, women could also easily enjoy these works. Although the creation of han’gŭl was a great assistance to the growth of the novel genre, the novel itself contributed significantly to broadening the range of use of the Korean script. Accordingly, novels became highly popular among the common people and were widely disseminated.

Circulation of the Novel: Transcription, Recitation, Book Lending, and Publishing Beginning in 1592, in a short period of not even fifty years the whole of Chosŏn experienced two disastrous series of invasions by Japan and Qing China. Despite this, however, the growth of the novel did not cease. Although the prevalence of the novel in this period was a common phenomenon throughout the whole East Asian region, an even greater number of narratives might have been created due to the atrocities and disorder resultant from the wars. In Korea as well as China and Japan, the mid-seventeenth century saw economies rapidly develop and urban areas expand, thus bringing about a period of social stability. Such circumstances contributed even more to the growth of novel, and hence, harkened the age of the novel.

Features of the Novel Medium The novel, a representative literary genre of the modern age is distinguished from other literary genres even by the manner of circulation. The basic circulating method of literature is oral narratives and what is polished and arranged out of such dictation becomes a record. Since the novel experienced explosive popularity, it became difficult to manage demand with only oral narratives or hand-copied transcriptions. Thus publication was fixed upon and it came to have an indivisible relationship with the burgeoning of the novel. Literature was originally quite distant from specific social use such as political or religious purposes, and as such was not something that could easily be published. It is only the case of the novel that enjoyed explosive popularity and was naturally published as a plaything with a commercial aim. The novel is a representative literary genre of modern capitalism that fashioned a genuine relationship between literature and commerce.

The Age of Commercial Publication of Novels In case of Chosŏn as well, the novel was not greatly different from other countries in the substance of the medium. What is different, however, is that the growth of novel publications in Chosŏn was more or less slow when compared to other countries. Although the publication of novels in Chosŏn can be seen in the sixteenth century with works such as Kŭmo sinhwa and Jiandeng xinhua, there is no evidence that this was done for commercial purposes. Mostly, the government published these works and although a portion was sold, this is distinguished from private commercial publication. Books made with a purpose to be sold commercially, the so-called panggak-bon, seem to have already been in existence in the sixteenth century, but the appearance of panggak-bon novels is only verifiable in the eighteenth century. A Chinese character edition of Kuunmong [A dream of nine clouds] printed in 1725 in Naju of Chŏlla Province is the first such case. Yet, it is not certain that this was published for commercial purposes, although it is clear that this work was not published by the government. Im Kyŏngŏp-jŏn [The tale of Im Kyŏngŏp] can

also be cited as an example of the commercial publication of a novel. There is a panggak-bon version of this novel which bears the imprint of, “newly printed in Kyŏnggi Province in the tenth month of Kyŏngja year.” Unfortunately, it is difficult to state which Kyŏngja year this was (year names repeat in a cycle of sixty years in the traditional calendar). However, recently evidence confirming that this Kyŏngja year was the one that fell in 1780 has been introduced.

Additionally, another record retells that Yi Ok (1760-1812) saw a published edition of So Taesŏng-jŏn [The tale of So Taesŏng] in Hapch’ŏn of Kyŏngsang Province around 1800. From such records, the lower bound for the commercial publication of novels can be established. Based on recent philological studies and various circumstantial records, it seems safest to state the age of commercial publication of novels got on the track in about the middle of eighteenth century. The boom of commercial publication of novels should be viewed as at the close of the eighteenth century or after the start of the nineteenth century.

Considering that the commercial publication of novels was already active in Suzhou from the beginning of the Ming dynasty (1368-1644) in China and in the case of Japan ten of thousands of commercially published novels were already sold by the late seventeenth century, the commercial publication of novels in Chosŏn was not only relatively late but also scanty. While those countries had tens of bookstores in major cities, there was not even a single bookstore in Seoul which had a population of 200-300,000. Such a reality demonstrates that commercial publications in Chosŏn were relatively poor. In regards to the basic materials needed for publication such as paper, metal typefaces or even skill, Chosŏn was acknowledged as highly capable and exported these items to neighboring countries. Nonetheless, in actuality, the publishing market was inferior.

There are various reasons why the commercial publication of novels in Chosŏn was so feeble. The most important reason among these was the strict Confucian ideology that lightly valued commercial activities. Since commercial activities were treated as unimportant, the economy shrunk and resulted in a diminishment of market size, causing commercial efforts to wither. Such a vicious circle repeated. Moreover, the strict Confucian ideology held literature as a somewhat useless activity, not putting any value in this either. As this was even true for the sijo literature that held the highest spot among literature, there was no way that the novel, which was not even counted as literature, could properly develop. It is easy to surmise that the commercial publication of novels was weak since novels were dismissed to this degree. However, in spite of such circumstances, the growth of the novel did not cease. Rather, the Chosŏn period novel groped for a different mode of circulation that could compensate for weak commercial publications. Group narratives and book lending shops were the third means for novel circulation.

Group Narratives and the Novel Reader There are various forms of group oral narrations. At home, a son or daughter-in-law reads a novel to other family members such as a mother or mother-in-law. At a village entrance, an elderly

man might read to the villagers. A more regular oral narration of novels however, was commercial oral narration. There were individuals who read novels in such places as markets where many people gathered, and did so to earn money. Although it is difficult to find the origins of such commercial oral readings, existing data indicates that it was first present in the eighteenth century.

Cho Susam (1762-1847) wrote that there was an old man who recited novels in the center of Seoul; he moved up and down the main road of Chongno in Seoul to gather an audience. In the midst of his recitation he would stop at a climatic scene, whereupon the curious audience that wished to know the ending gave him money. Upon receiving money, he would continue reading. Another record states that at a tobacco shop in Chongno in 1790, a person, listening to a part of a novel in which the protagonist was in a greatly adverse situation, stabbed the reader to death with a tobacco knife. The novel being read in this incident was Im Kyŏngŏp-jŏn [The tale of Im Kyŏngŏp]. Im was a general of Chosŏn who lived during the time of the Manchu invasions of the early seventeenth century. According to the description in the novel, Im, a great commander with excellent strategy and valor, had sufficient ability to defeat Qing China (the Manchu dynasty). However, due to the plot of a villainous retainer, he could not realize his aspiration but was beaten to death in prison; he was thus, a great hero of the country who suffered a tragic death. As this hero of Chosŏn was stymied, the sympathy and anger of the people reached a high point. We can see how the common people’s range of contact with novels was widened through the mode of oral recitations.

Book Lending The case of lending books also initially began with individuals and for non-profit reasons. It was simply the case that books were borrowed and read among family members, relatives, or neighbors. Such a situation existed long before the advent of the novel. The matter here is commercial book lending in which an individual at a certain place such as his house operated a business of lending novels and could thus earn money through his books. Commercial book lending could greatly elevate the circulation of novels and compensate for the burden of publication expenses in the early or smaller-scaled market.

The business of lending novels in Chosŏn had various appellations such as “book-lending shops” or “book-lending rooms.” Although these businesses are thought to have appeared fairly early, it can be confirmed only in the early eighteenth century. According to a document entitled “Yŏsasŏ-sŏ” [Preface to the four books for women] written by Ch’ae Chegong (1720-1799) after losing the possessions of his deceased wife, novels of this time were greatly popular among womenfolk, and neatly copied novels were lent for money in book lending shops.

From this account we can understand the conditions of book lending shops in the period of roughly 1730-1740. In this period book lending shops were already widespread in Seoul. The degree of the prevalence of these shops also appears in an account by Yi Tŏngmu (1741-1793) some ten years later. This record, which seems somewhat extreme, describes a house that lost its

fortune through the frequent borrowing of novels. Despite the inflammatory account, this record does indicate how active novel circulation was at this time through book lending shops.

The number of types of classical novels transmitted to today is near one thousand. The fact that some thousand types of novels, which were treated as a base culture in Chosŏn and thus were oftentimes not even mentioned, let alone preserved, allows us to assume how abundant novels were in Chosŏn. Ch’oe Namsŏn, in 1910, investigated a book lending shop in Seoul. At that time, although the shop was already in a stage of decline, the number of books held was a total of 120 types, and a total of 3,221 books. Based on such a result, the comments in the diary of Yu Manju (1755-1788) cannot be considered mere exaggeration when he wrote that the number of Korean novels reached several thousand types and tens of thousands volumes.

The novel that began slow growth from fifteenth century initially circulated as handwritten copies. However, as the popularity of novels rose, certain works which were widely read such as Jiandeng xinhua or which became the object of special interests like Kŭmo sinhwa were published and disseminated. After the creation of han’gŭl, the readership of novels became all the wider. From the mid- or late-seventeenth century, han’gŭl novels garnered great popularity among women in Seoul. The whirlwind of the novel gusting into the Seoul of late Chosŏn caused difficulties in meeting demand with only handwritten transcriptions. Hence, there appeared those who commercially recited novels at the marketplace, and the business of lending novels became highly prosperous. As demonstrated by the increase in the quantity of novels to as many as one thousand types, the novel had reached its limit with only handwritten transcriptions. The novel was thus on the brink of the era in which these works would be published in large quantities for commercial purpose.

And this new means of circulation enhanced the growth of novels to an even greater extent.

Women and the Novel Women and the novel were in a similar situation in late Chosŏn. The novel enjoyed huge popularity but popularity at the same time was ignored and ostracized; women as well, while making up the majority of the population, were socially isolated. It was natural for these two subjects to become closely related. The bond linking these two subjects was han’gŭl. The Korean script was also in a similar situation as women and the novel. In Chosŏn, Chinese characters were referred to as chinsŏ (true writing) while han’gŭl was termed ŏnmun, meaning of a type of dialect. It was further demeaned as amk’ŭl, meaning writing for females, as the main group using this writing system was women. Han’gŭl was generally used in writing letters, poem- songs, and novels targeting women.

Kyubang Novels, Naksŏnjae Novels, Kamun Novels It is a well-known fact that the readers of han’gŭl novels were largely women. Recently, however, it has been demonstrated that the chief writers of the han’gŭl novels were also women.

Among these novels, a group of works targeted women and were read mainly by women. These works were commonly called kyubang novels, meaning novels that were read mainly in the women’s quarters of the house. The term kyubang does have both social and economic restrictions.

For example, not all women had their own rooms, as economic reasons restricted this. In other words, kyubang generally implied middle or upper class women of yangban status families or wealthy households. Thus, kyubang novels were created for upper status group women, and enjoyed by mainly this group as well.

Similar to the kyubang novels are the Naksŏnjae novels. In the mid-1960s, a large number of novels were found and revealed to the academic world at the Naksŏnjae Library of Ch’angdŏk Palace. These novels are thus called Naksŏnjae edition novels, and are in general long han’gŭl works. This demonstrates that queens and royal concubines at the palace read full-length novels.

The categories of kyubang and Naksŏnjae novels should be similar since the queen and the royal concubines belonged to yangban families before entering the palace. For example, the younger sister of Lady Hong of Hyegyŏng Palace (Lady Hong is well-known for her diary Hanjung-rok [Record of leisurely days]) is said to have tearfully read Yu-ssi samdae-rok [Three-generation record of the Yu clan] while mourning her father’s death. Lady Hong recorded this account and from this we can extrapolate that she had similar reading experiences.

The kyubang novels are somewhat similar in concept to the kamun novels. More than a few of the kamun novels have titles such as “Three-generation record of the X clan,” or “Record of the X family.” These works describe life in a certain family over two or three generations and are thus called kamun (family) novels. In the classification of the kyubang novel, although there are works such as Kuun-mong which are not kamun novels, it is safe to state that all kamun novels are

of the kyubang category. Moreover, almost all full-length novels written in han’gŭl are included in the category of the kyubang novel.

Two Classifications of Kyubang Novels The category of the kyubang novel appeared only after the mid- or late seventeenth century. This category includes works of known authors such as Kuun-mong and Sa-ssi namjŏnggi written by Kim Manjung (1637-1692), Ch’angsŏn kamŭi-rok [That goodness be manifest and righteousness prized] said to have been written by Cho Sŏnggi, and anonymous pieces including Han Kanghyŏn-jŏn [Tale of Han Kanghyŏn], So Hyŏnsŏng-rok [Record of So Hyŏngsŏng], and Han-ssi samdae-rok [Three-generation record of the Han clan]. After this early period, the kyubang novels experienced an explosive popularity among Seoul women. These two classifications based on authorship of the kyubang works can be further subdivided into two smaller groupings.

One is the group of novels created by upper status male writers. Novels written in the han’gŭl script that carry information concerning the author extant today is no other class but this.

Representative works that belong to this category include Kuun-mong and Sa-ssi namjŏng-gi by Kim Manjung, Ch’angsŏn kamŭi-rok attributed to Cho Sŏnggi although not certain, Ongnin-mong [Dream of Ongnin] by Yi Chŏngjak, Ongnu-mong [Dream of the jade pavilion] by Nam Yŏngno, and Oksu-gi [Record of the jade tree] by Sim Nŭngsuk. Oftentimes the creative motive for these works was targeting women for reasons such as enabling the writer’s mother to pass her leisure time or to show love for a concubine. We can characterize these novels as works fashioned by men for women readers.

The second division is those works created by anonymous writers. Based on quantity, this class is much larger than signed works. Although there is no information concerning the writers, these works are mostly understood as having been composed by male writers such as the “destitute scholar.” However, recent data that rebukes such a view have been uncovered one after another. It is now thought that women writers composed a considerable number of these works.

In general, these works in this second classification are loose in narrative structure when compared to the works created by the upper status male writer group. The works by known male writers have special features such as creating a symmetrical beginning and ending to the narrative or delicately describing certain scenes. On the contrary, the works of this second group show a plainer structure in which events are connected in a regular sequence. Although the structure is simple, the emotional descriptions of the characters are subtle. And the length of the works in this second group is in general longer than those of the first group.

The Life and Ideology of Sŏp’o Kim Manjung Here, in addition to Kim Manjung’s Kuun-mong and Sa-ssi namjŏng-gi, Ch’angsŏn

kamŭi-rok and Wanwŏl hoemaengyŏn [Banquet of covenant in moonlight] will be introduced to aid understanding.

Kim Manjung, pen name Sŏp’o, was born after the death of his father who died in a gunpowder explosion on Kanghwa Island while fighting against the Manchu army in the 1636 invasion. Contrary to the unlucky backdrop to his birth, Kim’s family was an excellent one. His father, Kim Ikkyŏm, was a promising young scholar who passed the Classics Licentiate Examination (saengwŏn-si) in first place in 1635, the year before he loyally died in battle at twenty-three.

Additionally, Kim’s grandfather, Kim Pan, was the Minister of the Board of Personnel, and his great-grandfather, Kim Changsaeng, was a pupil of the famous scholar Yi I and also the teacher of Song Siyŏl who is counted as a great master of decorum in Chosŏn. Later in life the daughter of his brother Kim Man’gi was selected as the first queen of King Sukchong (r. 1674-1720), and thus Kim was further the uncle of the queen.

Kim’s mother’s family was not any less prestigious. His maternal grandfather was Yun Chi, also the minister of the Board of Personnel, his maternal great-grandfather Yun Sinji was the husband of the royal Princess Chŏnghye, and his maternal great-great-grandfather Yun Pang and his father, Kim’s great-great-great grandfather, Yun Tusu both held the highest civil government position of Chief State Councilor. We can see that Kim Manjung was from a family of high government officials including his maternal lineage, and at the same time a relative of the royal family.

Kim passed the preliminary Literary Licentiate Examination at fourteen and then the main examination at sixteen with the highest marks. Subsequently, in 1665, he passed the Garden Examination (chŏngsi mun’gwa) and began his career as a government official. He rose in rank passing through key offices in order. In 1675 there was a debate concerning decorum in regards to mourning clothes for the funeral of Queen Dowager Insŏn. As the Westerner (Sŏin) faction of which Kim was a member lost out in this controversy, Kim lost his position. About five years later in 1680 the Westerner faction again grasped political power on the momentum of the Purge of 1680. Kim had returned to officialdom a year earlier as Third Minister of the Board of Rites in 1679. In 1683 while serving as Minister of the Board of Works, he was appointed as Inspector-General, and then in 1686 as Director of the Office of Royal Decrees. Thus, Kim reached the highest positions as both a scholar and government official. However, in 1687 he was implicated in the historically famous incident surrounding Royal Consort Chang and exiled to Sŏnch’ŏn.

Royal Consort Chang was a niece of Chang Hyŏn, a translator. She was appointed as a palace woman through the influence of her mother’s lover Cho Sasŏk, and came to gain exclusive favor of King Sukchong. During this time, Sukchong appointed Cho Sasŏk as a chancellor in spite of the stiff opposition of his ministers, who admonished this as improper. At this time, Kim Manjung did not hesitate like others and directly criticized the King, citing specifically the relationship of Chang’s mother and Cho. Due to this, Kim was exiled to Sŏnch’ŏn. Although he was released from his exile a year later in the eleventh month of 1688, in the second month of 1689 he was impeached

by Pak Chin’gyu and Yi Yunsu and again exiled. He soon was enclosed in a thorn hedge in Namhae,

and passed away there in 1692.

When examining his eventful life filled with difficulties, the novel as a medium of expression does not seem well suited to Kim. He was a politician as well as government official at the center of tense political strife. Against such a backdrop, unless he possessed an innate literary disposition and talent, although the mental recess from exile was given to him, he would not have been able to reach such a level in creating novels. Moreover, without his extreme filialness towards to his mother, he would not have been able to compose such a harmonious and stable work as Kuun-mong in a frustrating and desperate period.

From his works such as Sŏp’o manp’il [Scattered writings of Sŏp’o], we can understand that Kim had a flexible attitude concerning ideology that was not restricted to simply NeoConfucianism. Also, we can see his disillusion about the use of han’gŭl manifested when mentioning the excellent nature of poem-songs in Korean, and his positive recognition of the novel genre as shown through his suggestion of the useful value of the novel; such aspects in his writings are very special considering the standards of his time. The result of his forward thinking is seen in novel creations such as Kuun-mong and Sa-ssi namjŏng-gi.

Kuun-mong Kuun-mong [A dream of nine clouds; the nine clouds is a place surrounded by ninecolored clouds and where heavenly fairies dwell] begins with a backdrop of Lianhua Peak of Nanyue Mountain, another name for Mt. Heng, in China. Although Nanyue is a real place in China, it is not depicted as an actual place of this world, and rather is staged as a transcendental region in this work. In the mountains is a temple where a monk by the name of Sŏngjin lives, who is the protagonist of the narrative. Sŏngjin is sent on an errand for his teacher to the Dragon Palace where he drinks a bowl of liquor that was forbidden to him as a monk. On the way back to the temple, he then frolicked with eight heavenly fairies of Nanyue. After returning to the temple, he was intoxicated with the fairies and could not concentrate on the cultivation of his mind. Seeing this, the Great Master Yukkwan expelled him together with the eight fairies to the mundane world in order for them to learn the pains of samsara, the transmigration of the spirit through the cycle of rebirth.

Sŏngjin is then reborn as Yang Soyu in Tang China. Yang has an outstanding appearance and extraordinary talent, and meets women wherever he goes. These women are the eight fairies who have also come down to the human world. The fairies are reborn in various places such as a daughter of a noble family, a princess, slaves, an assassin, and even the daughter of the Dragon Palace. They all naturally meet and bond with Yang, and he takes all of them as his women without much effort. While living in the same house, one man and eight wives had no disputes and got along well.

Yang enjoyed a life of great wealth and fame together with the reborn eight fairies, and at the age of sixty, he retires from government service. At his birthday banquet, suddenly Yang realizes

the vanity of life and thus decides to follow the Buddhist path of self-cultivation. At this point, Sŏngjin awakens from his dream: the life of Yang Soyu was no more than a dream of Sŏngjin. From this awakening, Sŏngjin and the eight fairies achieve enlightenment.

Sa-ssi namjŏng-gi Whereas Kuun-mong is a fantasy, Sa-ssi namjŏng-gi [Record of Lady Sa’s trip to the south] is quite realistic. This work begins with the marriage of Yu Yŏnsu, who passed the government service examination at a young age, with Sa Chŏngok. The couple grows deeply worried for they do not have a son even after ten years of marriage. Thus, Lady Sa requests her husband to take a concubine in order to gain a son. He obliges and brings Kyo Ch’aeran into the house as his concubine. However, through trickery, Kyo deceives Yu and causes him to drive away Sa. After being expelled, Sa experiences various life-threatening crises and finally, through the aid of a monk, she stays at a temple. Meanwhile, Yu begins to suspect Kyo of having an affair, but rather Kyo manipulates her lover and causes Yu to be exiled. While in exile, Yu contemplates his behavior towards Lady Sa. He is finally pardoned and released from exile and on his journey home, he hears of the full situation concerning Lady Sa from a maidservant. Arriving at his home, he summons Lady Sa back home and punishes Kyo. Suppression and Omission, Two Aspects of Kyubang Novels Kuun-mong was written at the time when Kim Manjung was exiled to Sŏnch’ŏn stemming from the incident concerning Royal Consort Chang. It is difficult to even imagine in that time, that a famous Confucianist such as Kim would write a novel. Perhaps for that very reason, many accounts of Kuun-mong cite the motive for its creation. These accounts record that Kim composed this novel to console his mother. A dignified Confucian scholar, then, composed this work for his mother who was grieved at her son’s exile, not for his own amusement. Therefore, Kim wrote this novel as an expression of filial piety. In the case of Sa-ssi namjŏn-gi, it is said to have been composed to change the mind of King Sukchong who was infatuated with Royal Consort Chang and drove away his queen. By comparing the error of Sukchong in driving away Queen Inhyŏn and taking Chang as queen with the mistake of Yu Yŏnsu in expelling Lady Sa and taking Kyo Ch’aeran as his legal wife, Kim intended to gain the King’s attention. Here, the creative motive was that of loyalty to inform the King of his mistake.

As motives for creation reveal, the two novels have completely different characteristics.

Kuun-mong was written to console a mother’s worries, and the world described is a harmonious fantasy. To the contrary, the world depicted in Sa-ssi namjŏng-gi is one confronted by reality.

Kuun-mong carries laughter while Sa-ssi namjŏn-gi holds tears. Compared with the NeoConfucianists’ slogan of “the principle of the heavens should be kept and human desires purged,”

Kuun-mong demonstrates a strong element of deviation while Sa-ssi namjŏng-gi features a tightly restrained atmosphere that upholds a strict ideology. Restraint and deviation are important notions for explaining the kyubang novels. For women of the Chosŏn period who were oppressed by the Confucian ideology and social system to such a degree that they could not even leave their homes, the kyubang novels served as both mechanisms of restraint and deviation.

These kyubang novels, then, functioned to enlighten and instruct Confucian ideology in one aspect, and at the same time allowed at least a small open space to these lives suffocating from the very instructions of Confucianism. Kuun-mong allowed the reader to forget Confucian suppression, to cross over the boundary of reality and the transcendental world, and to dream of a freely acting ego. However, Sa-ssi namjŏng-gi embodies an ideological restraint that constantly reminds of the fact that one cannot live outside the Confucian order.

Ch’angsŏn kamŭi-rok While aforementioned two novels of Kim Manjung demonstrate the extremities of the kyubang novels, Ch’angsŏn kamŭi-rok [That goodness be manifest and righteousness be prized] is a work that merges the two extremes. It is not an exaggeration to state that Ch’angsŏn kamŭi-rok is an exemplar of the kyubang novel. This work, along with Sa-ssi namjŏng-gi, not only achieved lofty popularity, but also was positively appraised by the Confucianists. The writer of Ch’angsŏn kamŭi-rok is said to be Cho Sŏnggi (1638-1689), but such an assertion is difficult to verify.

Ch’angsŏn kamŭi-rok begins with an introduction of the Hwa family. Hwa Uk has three wives of Lady Sim, Lady Yo, and Lady Chŏng. Each wife bears a child: respectively, Ch’un, Pingsŏn, and Chin. Ch’un is not recognized by the father and only Chin receives his favor. Thus, Ch’un and his mother become jealous of Chin. When Hwa Uk and two of his wives die, Lady Sim and her son Ch’un mistreat the other children. Meanwhile, the parents of Chin’s fiancée Nam Ch’aebong die and she thus entrusts herself to the house of her father’s friend Yun Sihang, and there she becomes close to Yun Sojŏ and Chin Sojŏ. However, when Cho Munhwa, the stepson of Ŏm Sung, attempts to force a marriage with Chin Sojŏ, she sends her parents far away and then flees herself as well.

During this time, Chin passes the government service examination in first place, and Ch’un drives away his wife Lady Im and takes his wicked concubine Lady Cho as his legal wife. As a consequence of the scheming of villainous retainers, Chin is exiled. Afraid that his guilt will become known, Ch’un plans for Yun Sojŏ to marry with Ŏm Sebŏn, the son of the villainous retainer Ŏm Sung, in order to gain his favor. The twin brother of Yun Sojŏ, Yun Yŏok uncovers this plan, disguises himself as a woman and goes to the house of Ŏm Sung. In the end, Yun Yŏok pledges to marry Wŏlhwa, the daughter of Ŏm Sung, while at his house. Chin is released from the exile at this point, distinguishes himself in battle against a Japanese attack, and is reunited with his family. Those engaged then marry, the evil characters are punished or become repentant, Chin’s assistance to the

king is rewarded, and his family and descendants become prosperous.

As the outline of the narrative reveals, Ch’angsŏn kamŭi-rok focuses on reifying Confucian ethics. Despite the fact that his stepmother Lady Sim and stepbrother Ch’un mistreat Chin, he tacitly endures and overcomes this, thus demonstrating the Confucian notions of filial piety and brotherly affection. The aspect in which a woman does not fear even death while resisting a marriage proposal by one who is not her fiancée displays a woman’s fidelity. Moreover, loyalty is manifested in the aspect that a hero confronts the villainous ministers at the royal court and fights against an enemy outside of the court.

In other words, Ch’angsŏn kamŭi-rok gathers the representative Confucian virtues of loyalty, filial piety and fidelity into one work and encourages readers to follow these notions. This work is indeed, just like its title implies, an exemplary work that spreads righteous and upright human deeds. Also, understanding it from a structural aspect, domestic, social, as well as national order that were all lost at the beginning of the narrative are recovered by its conclusion. The recovery of Confucian decorum can be said the subject matter of this work. Such a subject matter is commonly manifested in kyubang novels. Ch’angsŏn kamŭi-rok, while describing Confucian virtues in general, at the same time describes distinct individual characters and incidents surrounding them in detail. In view of this aspect, Ch’angsŏn kamŭi-rok is an exemplar of the full length kyubang novel.

Wanwŏl hoemaeng’yŏn [Banquet of covenant in the moonlight] is the largest-scale work among the full-length kyubang novels. The handwritten manuscript composes some 180 fascicles, which fills about twelve volumes in modern books. In terms of length, it is the largest of the premodern Korean novels and contemporary novels as well. It is known to be a work of the mother of An Kyŏmje, one Lady Yi. In general, it has many common characteristics with Ch’angsŏn kamŭi-rok. Each incident in the work is described from various points of view, and characters and happenings are depicted in great detail, thus creating a work of such length.

Wanwŏl hoemaeng’yŏn revolves around events and happenings that take place close to the home of the protagonist. Although it contains accounts of political discord, strife within the family or between families composes the core of the narrative. The Confucian notion of distinction between the “inner and outer” (i.e., women and men) made it very difficult for women to leave the enclosed walls of the home. And as women—the main reading group for the kyubang novels—were forced by this restriction to focus their attention on the affairs of the family, the main interest of the kyubang novels deal with matters of the family or clan.

Heroic Novels, the Life Story of a Hero The Beginnings of the Heroic Novel Heroic narratives have a long history and have been transmitted from the mythological era.

These narratives are thus one of the first categories of tales to be put into the novel form as this genre developed. Yet, heroic narratives, that is heroic novels, were enjoyed by an even lower social class when compared to those who enjoyed the kyubang novels, which results in making it even more difficult to find documents related to these works. This causes difficulties in even pinpointing the start of these works.

Commonly Hong Kiltong-jŏn [The tale of Hong Kiltong] is cited as the first heroic novel among the han’gŭl novels. This is based upon a record in the literary collection of Yi Sik (15841647) stating that Hŏ Kyun (1569-1618) composed Hong Kiltong-jŏn. If this is accurate, Hong Kiltong-jŏn was created at least by the beginning of the seventeenth century. This same period also produced the first han’gŭl novel. However, there are many problems to consider in relation to the Hong Kiltong-jŏn mentioned in Yi’s literary collection as being the han’gŭl version of Hong Kiltong-jŏn extant today. Namely, it is difficult to clarify the relationship between Yi’s Hong Kiltong-jŏn and today’s Hong Kiltong-jŏn. It seems highly possible, based upon many other circumstantial conditions, that the Hong Kiltong-jŏn mentioned by Yi is the version in literary Chinese, thereby making it also difficult to state that Hong Kiltong-jŏn was the first han’gŭl novel as well.

If Hong Kiltong-jŏn is not the first han’gŭl novel, then the first novel in han’gŭl cannot but be delayed to works such as Kuun-mong or So Hyŏnsŏng-rok [Record of So Hyŏngsŏng] of the late seventeenth century. However, although the presently extant version of Hong Kiltong-jŏn is not that of the early seventeenth century, the first heroic novel could still reach back to this period.

Recently a record written by Ko Sangan (1553-1623) has surfaced; this account mentions that in 1579 a person had read a work entitled Ch’oe Munch’ang-jŏn, that is Ch’oe Ch’iwŏn-jŏn [The tale of Ch’oe Ch’iwŏn]. The Ch’oe Munch’ang-jŏn mentioned in the Ko’s record corresponds with the version extant at present.

Ch’oe Munch’ang-jŏn is written in literary Chinese, but there is another record that han’gŭl heroic novels also existed at the close of the seventeenth century. There was a Japanese by the name of Amenomori Hōshū who was charged with diplomatic matters concerning Chosŏn. He came to Pusan in 1703 and learned han’gŭl from han’gŭl novels such as Sukhyang-jŏn [The tale of Sukhyang] and Yi Paekkyŏng-jŏn [The tale of Yi Paekkyŏng]. Although it is thought that Yi Paekkyŏng-jŏn is a novel of the heroic genre, this cannot be verified as it is not presently extant.

However, the presence of Sukhyang-jŏn demonstrates that the han’gŭl heroic novel was already being enjoyed in the seventeenth century.

The Model of a Heroic Novel, Cho Ung-jŏn Heroic novels gained the interest of a broad reader group from the advent of the appearance of this genre in the literary world. While full-length han’gŭl novels were enjoyed mainly by the upper classes, especially women, shorter-length heroic novels were mainly read by those of lower social groups. The full-length han’gŭl novels circulated through the book lending business while shorter-length heroic novels circulated more easily as commercially printed panggak editions (either woodblock carved or metal-print editions). Among the extant panggak editions, Cho Ungjŏn [The tale of Cho Ung] boasts the largest quantity of prints and is a heroic novel.

Cho Ung-jŏn begins with the suicide of the father of Cho Ung after being falsely charged by the villainous retainer Yi Tubyŏng. Cho gains the love of the emperor from a young age due to his superior heroic abilities. After the emperor dies, Yi Tubyŏng usurps power of the country. Enraged, Cho writes a manifesto speaking against Yi and then flees. He takes refuge at a temple, and there he meets an enlightened monk who teaches him military tactics and the martial arts. He also receives a treasured sword and a swift horse, as well as a fiancée. At this time a foreign enemy attacks the country, and Cho takes to the battlefield where he achieves great honor. In the meanwhile, his fiancée Chang Sojŏ escapes from the marriage request of a powerful man and enters a temple.

There, she meets Cho’s mother who had been separated from her son. Cho returns and saves Chang Sojŏ, and beheads Yi Tubyŏng and his cronies who were in collusion with the enemy. All his family gathers and lives with riches and honors happily ever after.

The strife against villainous retainers and wars against foreign enemies seen in Cho Ungjŏn are typical conflicts found in heroic novels. Along with these structures, the dramatic characteristics and narrative features such as seeking revenge for his father or Cho’s unhindered heroic personality could be reasons that this novel gained such lofty popularity.

A Historical Heroic Novel: Im Kyŏngŏp-jŏn Works featuring a fictional protagonist such as Cho Ung are called fictional heroic novels whereas those works featuring a historical personage are historical heroic novels. The fictional heroic novels generally conclude with a happy ending; conversely, the historical heroic novels are governed by historic facts and thus more than a few have tragic conclusions. The former category tends towards a strong romantic character while the latter group carries more realistic features. Im Kyŏngŏp-jŏn [The tale of Im Kyŏngŏp] is a representative example of historical heroic novel.

Im Kyŏngŏp-jŏn is the life story of the great Chosŏn general Im Kyŏngŏp at the outbreak of the Manchu Invasion of 1636. Before the invasions, Im benevolently governed and became well known to even the royal court. In 1624 he served as an envoy to Ming China. After arriving in China, he heard news of an uprising in the Jin Kingdom. Jin sought assistance from Ming, but the Ming could not find a proper man who could help in repressing the rebels. At this time, however, the

Ming court heard of Im and recommended him, after which he went to Jin. He successfully suppressed the revolt and gained fame throughout the world. However, as Jin, which had received the help of Ming China and the Chosŏn general, grew strong, it betrayed both Ming and Chosŏn, and subsequently invaded both countries. The Chosŏn government posted Im as Magistrate of Ŭiju and had him block the key point of the attack. However, the Jin reasoned that they could not defeat Chosŏn over Im’s troops, and directly crossed the Yellow Sea and occupied the capital of Hanyang.

Im, upon discovering this, was terribly distressed but he could not reverse the surrender of Chosŏn either. The Qing dynasty, the new name of Jin, considered Im the major obstacle in the occupation of Chosŏn, and thus planned to get rid of him. Ultimately, Im was captured by the Qing as the result of an anonymous betrayal by his own countryman.

While being held as a prisoner of war, Im constantly and openly asserted his opinions. Due to his oratory splendor, even the crown prince of Chosŏn, who had been taken as hostage, was able to return home. Later, Im too returns to Chosŏn. His welcome upon arriving in Chosŏn after having experienced every sort of hardship and privation is only a cold prison cell. Kim Chajŏm, whose seditious plots had been tyrannizing the government, feared that the returned national hero might endanger his position, and thus deceived the king and had Im imprisoned. Once the king found that Im had been jailed, he ordered the soldiers to beat him to death. Im who had never tasted defeat in battles against enemies outside the country, nonetheless faced a death for an absurd reason in his own country.

The myth of the unbeatable hero of fictional history had no space for any outcome other than to be shattered when meeting actual history. It was because such tragic events as the surrender to Qing China or the false charges against Im and his subsequent death could not be altered. The novel shows concern not to damage the heroic character of the protagonist by attributing the cause of the tragedy to the villainous retainers rather than to Im. As the heroic character of Im soared higher, hatred towards Kim Chajŏm who drove Im to death became all the more intense. Originally Kim had been Im’s superior officer as well as his supporter. Although he had Im sent to his death to save himself from being implicated in the conspiracy involving Im, he was not a person who would impute all responsibility to Im as described in the novel. However, the novel highlighted an extreme confrontation between the hero and the world. That is why this story garnered a passionate response from its audience, to such a degree that the storyteller who read this scene concerning the pitiful hero being stabbed to death by a member of his audience at the marketplace.

The Heroine Novel and Pak-ssi-jŏn A heroic novel that occupies the space between Cho Ung-jŏn and Im Kyŏngŏp-jŏn is Pak-ssi-jŏn [The tale of Lady Pak]. The backdrop for this work is also the Manchu Invasion of 1636, the same historical event behind Im Kyŏngŏp-jŏn. Many of the characters in Pak-ssi-jŏn are

historic personages such as Im Kyŏngŏp and Long Gu Dai despite that Lady Pak is not.

The content of the narrative tells of a gentle woman, Lady Pak, who is able to defeat the army of the powerful Qing dynasty. As we can surmise from the use of a fictional protagonist, the conclusion of this work is quite romantic. The tragic history of surrender is transformed to victory by a weak woman in the novel, which offered at least mental consolation to readers. As far as type, Pak-ssi-jŏn can be said a “woman general novel” or a “heroine novel.” The narrative unfolds around a woman who becomes a general, participates in the battles, and achieves great honor for her actions. Similar to Pak-ssi-jŏn are Pang Hallim-jŏn [The tale of Pang Hallim], Yi Hyŏnggyŏnjŏn [The tale of Yi Hyŏnggyŏng], and Hong Kyewŏl-jŏn [The tale of Hong Kyewŏl].

Hong Kiltong-jŏn At one extreme of the heroic novel is Hong Kiltong-jŏn [The tale of Hong Kiltong]. Hong Kiltong was a historic personage, yet unlike Im Kyŏngŏp, he was neither a general nor a national hero. He was simply a bandit. Merely a bandit, historical documents afford him a single line and thus make Hong Kiltong-jŏn closer to a fictional account than one based in history. However, the social criticism in Hong Kiltong-jŏn is stronger than that found in Im Kyŏngŏp-jŏn. The protagonist of Hong Kiltong-jŏn is an illegitimate child born to a humble slave woman. Through the protagonist in this work, discrimination against illegitimate children in Chosŏn became a subject of public criticism.

In a sense, Hong Kiltong-jŏn attempts to reject the ideological order of Chosŏn society.

Hong Kiltong, although the son of Minister Hong, was treated like a servant because his mother Ch’unsŏm was a maidservant of the Hong house. A social system such as this could not but cause discontent for Kiltong. Adding to the difficulties was that Kiltong was born with outstanding talent, and thus it was even harder for him accept the reality of his situation. In spite of his excellent talent, Kiltong had nowhere to go and at last chose to be a bandit. Becoming the leader of a brigand, he rebelled against society by seizing the symbol of religious power, Haein Temple, and by taking the symbol of governmental power in capturing a government office in Hamgyŏng Province.

Yet, his revolt did not last long. The king ordered his men to capture Kiltong and the rebel turned himself in to the authorities. Thus, his resistance ended with his surrender to the king and being appointed as Minister of the Board of War. Ultimately, Kiltong compromises with the social realities of Chosŏn.

Hong Kiltong’s surrender to the social realities can be viewed as a limit of this work.

However, this was a line that could not be crossed in Chosŏn. A work instigating treason could not be circulated. The latter part of the novel demonstrates that Kiltong’s surrender was not simply surrender. He was appointed as Minister of the Board of War by the king but resigned his position as a government official and then left the country. Eventually he went to the country of Yulto and became king. From this we can see that Kiltong’s surrender was nothing more than a steppingstone for abandoning a negative reality and seeking a different world.

It is difficult to accept the opinion that Hŏ Kyun composed the presently transmitted version of Hong Kiltong-jŏn. However, the fact that Hŏ composed this work in some form has a sufficient probability even without the record by Yi Sik attributing the work to Hŏ. This is because the severe criticism of the social system of Chosŏn in Hong Kiltong-jŏn appears as such in Hŏ’s own ideology. Hŏ is the most famous ideological heretic in the whole of the Chosŏn period. His heretical ideology that resulted in him suffering a death of being drawn and quartered is fully expressed in Hong Kiltong-jŏn.

Sukhyang-jŏn Finally, we will discuss the work Sukhyang-jŏn [The tale of Sukhyang] that nonetheless belongs to the category of heroic novels despite its hero not being a war hero. The narrative development in heroic novels generally describes a typical heroic life pattern of a hero. Such a heroic life commonly carries the following: A hero from a noble blood is born through an extraordinary process of birth; the hero has innate extraordinary capabilities but experiences great hardships when young; although the hero meets a savior and overcomes the difficulties, he/she grows up and again faces a crisis, once more overcoming the difficulty. The heroic life pattern appears clearly in Sukhyang-jŏn and thus this work can be described as a heroic novel as well. The outline is as following.

Kim Chŏn of Song China saves a mysterious turtle and has an extraordinary dream foretelling of an auspicious pregnancy. After that, he gains a daughter Sukhyang. When she is young, Sukhyang is separated from her parents during an uprising. After wandering for some time, she is taken in by the home of Prime Minister Chang. She is beloved in the Chang house, but is driven out by the evil plot of a maidservant named Sahyang who is jealous of the favor Sukhyang receives.

Again wandering about and going through many difficulties, Sukhyang finally is taken in by the wine shop of an old woman named Mago. Here, by chance she meets her destined match Yi Sŏn; the two wish to marry, but his parents’ oppose this. Subsequently, they overcome this hardship and marry. Yi then performs various meritorious deeds such as subduing domestic disturbances. He gains ever-higher official positions and eventually is enfeoffed as King of Ch’o. Sukhyang once again is reunited with her parents and enjoys eternal happiness.

Sukhyang-jŏn well reflects the ubiquitous emotions and values of the Chosŏn people, and is expressed with simple vernacular prose. Accordingly, this work was widely read by Japanese who were studying Korea and the Korean language since the eighteenth century.

New Tendencies in Eighteenth Century Chinese Character Literature The romantic tendency of Korean literature that pursued the Tang-style poetry in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries manifested a strong infecting power and was received with great enthusiasm by readers. However, the exotic sentiments of romanticism and blind reproduction of Chinese poems caused readers to tire of these works as time passed. Especially, while life in reality was greatly painful after the time of the Manchu invasions, Chinese poems were still about romantic sadness in an atmosphere of fantasy. Thus arose a strong air of retrospection concerning the reasons for literature activities by Koreans.

In the seventeenth century Kim Manjung commented on “Kwandong pyŏlgok” [Song of Kwandong], written by Chŏng Ch’ŏl, that poetry written in Chinese characters was no more than the imitation of a parrot, and the false poems of the intellectuals were not any better than the true songs of woodcutters or water-drawing womenfolk. When Buddhist scriptures in the language of India are translated into Chinese characters, the meaning disappears. Likewise, Chŏng’s kasa loses its emotion when translated into Chinese. The value of literature lies in the beauty of its own language, not in what kind of writing it is expressed in. Therefore, the idea that only those items written in Chinese were excellent is prejudiced. Such a commentary was received as a revolutionary declaration confronting the current of medieval universalism and positively protecting the value of literature in one’s own language.

Entering the eighteenth century, literature written by Koreans came to carry an even clearer indigenous color. The Korean literature of this period tends to pursue a unique Korean literature that is distinguished from that of China. Pak Chiwŏn insisted on Chosŏn-style poetry and prose, and Chŏng Yagyong proclaimed a Chosŏn poetry movement. The core of these activities was to avoid imitation of Chinese literature and to hold the voice of the people living in Chosŏn.

The “True-view” Age and the “True-poem” Movement The eighteenth century is a period that carries special meaning in not only literary history but also cultural history. This period ruled by kings Yŏngjo (r. 1724-1776) and Chŏngjo (r. 1776-1800) is referred to as the age of practical learning (sirhak) from the aspect of ideological history, and as the age of realism or the true-view (chin’gyŏng) from the aspect of literary history. As the extreme social disturbances of the prior age were settling into stability, there began to surface progressive changes in literature. Intellectuals, confronted by the irrationality and contradictions of reality, tried to suggest a concrete solution, and desired to escape the China-centered ideology even in understanding history or the world, and spread a culture that centered on their own country.

Such a current appeared in painting as the true-view landscape (chin’gyŏng sansu) movement and as the pursuit of true-poems (chinsi) in verse. In painting, what can be termed as patterned paintings in the style of Chinese artists had been the general tendency in painting circles.

The painters of earlier times could not escape from the use of conventional symbols and depicted the same subject matters over a period of several centuries. Even when creating landscapes, artists only imitated Chinese mountains and waters in their works rather than the actual mountains and rivers in front of their eyes.

By the end of the seventeenth century, there arose changes in these strict painting styles.

What is now called the age of true-view landscapes came about when painters went directly to a scenic spot and painted the landscape as it unfolded before their eyes. Artists brought their painting implements, sought famous scenic spots and places of historical interest, and transformed the vivid scenes into paintings, all of which heretofore unimaginable.

The brothers Kim Ch’anghyŏp and Kim Ch’anghŭp led changes in poetry, and responding to their lead were poets such as Yi Pyŏngyŏn, Yi Hagon, and Hong Set’ae, thus resulting in a trend towards pursuing a new poetic style. These poets reconsidered the value of an aimless pursuit of Tang-style poetry that had resulted in monotonous imitations and unrealistic emotions, and opened the true-poetry movement in which poetry should reflect unvarnished expressions of the one’s own neighboring nature, people, and customs.

The true-poems that these men sought were works describing objects as they were, which were not planned, intended, or customarily expressed. They believed true-poems should have no gap between the object and ego, and further were a union of the poet’s consciousness and the object. Their quest for true-poems came to have a more concrete manifestation in the pursuit of “Chosŏn-style” poetry in the subsequent eighteenth century.

Chosŏn-style Chinese-character Poetry and the Proclamation of Chosŏn Poetry The representative current of Chinese-character poetry (hansi) in the eighteenth century is Chosŏn-style poetry (Chosŏn-p’ung). Chosŏn-style poetry is a form of hansi that is distinguished from Chinese hansi. Pak Chiwŏn was the first to use this terminology. Pak wrote in the introduction of a poetry collection by Yi Tŏngmu that, Yi Tŏngmu is a person of Chosŏn. The mountains and waters where he lives are different from those of China, and the songs and language are also different from those of the Chinese. However, if Chinese things are only imitated, the literary level will became even lower as it approaches the original work, and the content will be something that is only false. When a Chinese person reads this poetry collection, he will learn the names of Korean birds, animals, grasses, and trees, and also can read of the minds of the people of Chosŏn. This is exactly Chosŏn-style poetry.

In other words, Chosŏn-style poetry indicates a poem that describes the shape and emotions of the lives of the people of Chosŏn. The pursuit of Chosŏn-style hansi sought to transcend existing ideas and to newly appreciate Korean values based on a subjective realization.

As time flows, so too do changes in language and ideology. There is not a perpetual model for literature. The summons of literature lies in incorporating the changing spirit of a given age. If one repeats only the dead shell of the ancients like a parrot, it has no value.

After Pak Chiwŏn broached the subject of Chosŏn-style poetry, Chŏng Yagyong made the famous statement concerning Chosŏn poetry, “since I am a person of Chosŏn, I will happily compose the poems of Chosŏn.” The realization of the subject of the Korean people is even more clearly exposed in his poems. His declaration concerning Chosŏn poetry stemmed from a painful reflection that until that time the people of Chosŏn could not write Chosŏn poetry, but only Tangstyle poetry. Thus, poetics and reality were always unrelated, and instead of truth, only false emotions were manifested in poems.

The Chosŏn-style poetry pursued by the literary men of the sirhak faction in the eighteenth century resulted in a great change in the understanding of traditional literature. These men paid more attention to the present than the past, Chosŏn before China, and to the facts before their eyes rather than any sort of eternal truth. For this, they did not hesitate to experiment by translating the dialects of Chosŏn into Chinese characters or in using familiar place names as they were in poetic language.

Also, poetic subjects were boundlessly expanded. Everyday objects, vulgar local customs, and items that had been distanced from poetic inspiration such as lice or fleas were used without hesitation as subject matter for poems.

Chosŏn-style hansi used folksongs to fashion narrative poem-songs and used seasonal customs or the people and items of the base culture as poetic objects. These poets also possessed an independent consciousness about historical realities, and thereby created many works featuring a critical self-examination of reality and a subjective recognition concerning the history of the Korean people. However, more than anything else, through biting satire of the contradictory reality and poems that carried a deep affection for the lives of the common people, the life of that time could be reconstructed as it was in poetry. This, then, was the most valuable achievement of Chosŏn-style hansi.

Literary Sketches: A New Stage for the Spirit of Prose While the experiment of Chosŏn-style poetry progressed in hansi, there also occurred a significant change in literary Chinese prose. The literary men of the Northern Learning School (pukhak-p’a), namely Yi Tŏngmu, Pak Chega, and Yu Tŭkkong, and writers including Yi Yonghyu and Yi Ok were at the van of the changes in prose at this time. They adopted the literary theory of the Chinese Gongan School (K. Kongan) and held that the quest of “being truthful” should be given the most value in literature. The core theory of the Gongan School was “to open up a sincere mind and not be bound with framed modality,” thereby insisting on eliminating fixed forms of writing and seeing objects both anew and truthfully.

The prose they enjoyed composing was the literary sketch, or sop’um-mun. This term is

used for artistic prose that holds an abundance of lyricism. These works are not lengthy and in a form of experimental prose that was original and distinctive from existing prose forms. Riding the wave of a rapidly progressing urban culture, the writers of this form were like-mindedly absorbed with creating works based on many complex elements such as life in cities, a cultural mood that respected and pursued individuality, the increase of literary men who were thoroughly alienated from the power structure, as well as a congenial unity. They used colloquial language or even vulgar words in their writings and without hesitation expressed individual emotions found in everyday life, which had been prohibited before. These writers threw off existing literary forms and content, reaching even to the point of dismantling literary modality.

Yorha ilgi [Rehe diary] of Pak Chiwŏn received an enthusiastic response and was widely read as soon as it appeared. Pak’s excellent writing style that vividly described narrative developments in a colloquial style and allowed readers to imagine as if they were on the scene, at once became a symbol of a new writing style. The impact was so great that when King Chŏngjo saw the explosive reaction of young writers to the writing style of Pak, he sensed a serious crisis. In the King’s view, these writings had a threatening spirit of discontent, rejecting the existing ethical order and denying a uniform ideology. Surely in the works of these writers such as Pak Chiwŏn, modern individuality that denied medieval uniformity was alive.

Chŏngjo thus ordered the implementation of a literary-style reformation censorship apparatus. The reformation of literary-style was initiated with the aim of the government inspecting writings and then leading writers in a righteous direction as the writing styles had deviated from the correct mode and moved in a negative direction and also because intellectuals began to have serious problems in their mental attitude. Chŏngjo identified the writers who enjoyed the sop’um-mun style and ordered them to present a letter of self-introspection in a purely literary Chinese form. Those writers who deviated from literary Chinese in the slightest—even one line in the sop’um-mun style was too much—had their passing of the government service examination canceled and were even conscripted into the military service.

However, Chŏngjo failed to notice that such a movement was resultant from changes in worldview arising from the dissolution of the medieval age and the establishment of the modern period. The more doggedly literary activity was restrained, the greater the desire of writers to pursue such a direction. While the reformation of literary style was successful on the surface due to the strong will of Chŏngjo, this did not cause the yearning of writers for change to fall into a slumber.

Subsequently, numerous writers continued with new and experimental modes of writing that were outside of the existing grammar framework in the nineteenth century.

Narrative Sijo: A Lively Look at Human Nature and Objects with Ardent Eroticism Narrative sjio (sasŏl sijo) indicates an irregular form of sijo. Although these poems cannot be said of a single form as its shapes are diverse, in general, the final line maintains a similar frame as in regular sijo, while some parts of the first and second lines noticeably diverge from the four segment rules for versification and in general are lengthened.

It was in the 1728 work entitled Ch’ŏnggu yŏngŏn [Songs of green hills], the first anthology compiled by Kim Ch’ŏngt’aek, in which the narrative sijo first appeared. Kim was a policeman and composer of all sorts of writings. For this compilation, he collected all the orally transmitted sijo and created a systemic collection. In the last section of this work, 111 narrative sijo are recorded under the title of “Manhwing ch’ŏngnyu” [Mixed rhythm class]. These songs are full of shocking content for the day such as lewd descriptions of sex, the extravagant life of the city, and the hardships and laments of soldiers, merchants, and farmers. Subsequently, the number of those creating and enjoying these poem-songs increased and narrative sijo came to be the most popular genre of poetry in late Chosŏn.

Changes in musical styles can be counted as a direct influence that allowed the advent of narrative sijo. In the periods before and after the Hideyoshi and Manchu invasions, Chosŏn society experienced great changes in realms including ideology, culture and economy, and music too. The slow and leisurely rhythm of mandaeyŏp was the representative musical tempo until the time of the invasions. However, after the invasions the faster tempo of saktaeyŏp with strong changes appeared to cope with the songs of the new period. Such a change of tempo would have accelerated changes in lyrics, and also would have become a motive power that positively accepted the coarse and powerful lyrics of the folksongs floating about towns.

Yet, changes in musical style cannot be said the only motive power when a new form of literature appears on the stage of history. There also needs to be a social foundation to enjoy and support such a new form. Who, then, is this group that would enjoy these songs with a rapidly changing tune and irregular narration? Generally, it is commonly accepted that the main class supporting the narrative sijo was the common or the working class. This is, however, a stance that is arrived at without carefully examining the historical circumstances of the period.

In Chosŏn there existed a middle class consisting of merchants, wealthy men, and chung’in (the middle people) in addition to the upper and commoner classes. Among these classes, it was those in the middle classes that lead the artistic world of the time and played the decisive role in the creation of narrative sijo. From the aspect of intelligence or culture, they were no different from those of the uppermost class. However, they encountered status barriers and futures in political directions were blocked; thus, most of these men devoted their passions to artistic fields such as music or painting. Art was not simply a hobby to them, but rather something worthy of lifetime devotion. Accordingly the arts in late Chosŏn entered into a magnificent renaissance period through these individuals.

We can also posit that these individuals made the advent and subsequent prosperity of the narrative sijo form possible. Unlike the literati, they could keep a uniform distance from the medieval

ideology, and therefore open a new and sensible horizon. Furthermore, as they had a different recognition concerning the social status system, they could turn their eyes to even the lives and language of the people. Beginning with Kim Ch’ŏnt’aek who first collected the narrative sijo, others of this very group followed such as Kim Sujang and An Minyŏng.

Laughter in Narrative Sijo The principle beauty of narrative sijo is laughter. Even when voicing complaints of the contradictions of social status or irrationality, criticizing the suppression by the ruling class, or the weary lives of commoners, laughter basically leads the mood of these works. More than anything else, this is because the technique of expressing narrative sijo is rooted in the concrete life experiences. From the same such view, we can further understand that the various shapes of human emotions and objects account for the chief domain in the aspect of sijo beauty.

My husband fell ill and there was nothing to use, At the Chongnu Market I sold my wig and bought pears, citrons, and pomegranates. Oh no, oh no, I forgot to buy five-colored candy!

Putting a spoon in a watermelon bowl, I sigh a deep breath.

Haedong kayo [Songs of the east] The narrator of this song is an ordinary town woman. The writer affectionately captures the countenance of this woman who “has a sick husband, and thus sold her wig, bought various fruits with it, but is sighing because she forgot to buy candy.” The song is as lively as the very sigh of such a woman heard by ear.

Like the above, all sort of vulgar and humble people and figures of the period appear in narrative sijo: an old man wooing a Buddhist nun, a woman making love with a man in a ginseng field, an old woman going over a mountain after painting her white hair black to seduce a young man, the look of woodcutter who fully enjoys the pleasure of labor, a daughter-in-law who snores, urinates, and breaks wind, and a soldier carrying a broken arrow and crushed receptacle and resenting Emperor Hŏnwŏn who is said to have invented weapons at the beginning of the world. When literature is a glass that reflects reality, the reflections in narrative sijo are nothing other than a magic mirror.

Commonly the fixed idea of narrative sijo is that the content is a direct criticism about contradictions of feudal society. Yet, it is difficult to find works with such direct criticism. Rather, the special characteristic of narrative sijo can be said a penchant for describing the various shapes of human lives and things in concrete and diverse voices.

Moreover, it is clear that narrative sijo were something quite innovative when seen from the flow of poetic history. As discussed above, from the appearance of standard sijo (p’yŏng sijo), this form carried the ethical ideals and contemplative world of the literati class. These sijo could not escape

from the shadow of retrospection and abstraction when even forming individual experiences and emotions. However, the emotions and human figures that narrative sijo capture completely purged the burdensome frame of retrospection and basic instinctive desires and people’s lives on earth were truthfully portrayed. A decided plunge from a lofty abstractness to concreteness is the core proposition in the beauty of narrative sijo. All the technical novelties in this form—such as the tedious enumeration of objects used in daily life, absurd exaggerations or nonsense, liberal usage of satire and humor, descriptions so delicate to even capture the sound of breathing, and irregular rules of versification— were derived from this as well.

The Erotic World of Narrative Sijo Eduard Fuchs wrote in his History of Folk Customs that, “everything is full of erotic desire in the age of creation” and also that, “people in the time of revolution are creative and energetic in the other aspects as well, including sensual activities.” This is quite true. Narrative sijo represent the creative and sensual world of sensitivity that the people lived in the transitory period of late Chosŏn.

Of course the theme of sexual love is a universal subject that has been steadily transmitted from the ancient song “Hwangjo-ga” [Song of a nightingale] to the popular songs of today. However, the meaning of this sexual love is not the same in each period. For example, although the literati in the early Chosŏn period occasionally wrote of a sincere heart longing for a loved one, the loved one in this case was not the object of love, but rather the summit of the medieval period, the king. Accordingly the description of love in such works was one sided, inactive, and abstract. Such a description did not allow even a slight amount of vexed emotional intervention. To the contrary, the love manifested in narrative sijo is given creative movement and a character of erotic desire.

Love, love a finely formed love, a net-like love that covers all oceans far and wide To Tapsim Village and to Wangsim Village, a love weaving and twisting like melon and watermelon vines, and spreading out through every furrow.

The love of my darling, I do not know the end of it.

As seen above, love pursued in narrative sijo is symbolized and expressed through the image of a net or vines. The love here has a seething power and strongly clinging vitality: it is something in which the lovers can share physical desire and jubilation. It is further something so strong that it can endlessly spread out.

Accordingly, the aspect of a mental prop cannot be found in the shape of the love described in these poems. These works do not cloak a content of a thorough physical longing. Namely we see the ideal figure of the man that women desired: “a young man who is tall, handsome, good at writing and speech, excellent in singing, dancing, and archery, and also good in bed.” And for men, a like figure of a woman was also desired.

As the object of desire was a concrete and vivid figure as such, the color of affection each individual experienced was truly variegated. For example, there are poems that tell of one who could not sleep due to chirps of a cricket and thus yearned for a lover, and also the case that hearing a lover was approaching, one dashes out with socks and shoes in hand, but with the episode ending in as a preposterous scene. We also see the poem in which one enthusiastically runs towards a lover as in the following, A pass [where] even the wind must pause, and clouds too, to cross over, The high and rugged Changsŏng Pass [where] even mountain hawks, trained hawks, peregrine falcons and young hunting hawks have to rest when passing over, If I hear my love has come to the other side of the pass, I will cross over, not even stopping once.

Mountain hawks, trained hawks, peregrine falcons, and young hunting hawks are all fierce and nimble birds of prey. A pass so steep that even these birds have to rest to cross over, the narrator of this poem would have run over for his/ her lover, not even resting once, as long as the lover would come to him or her. In order to realize love, this poem voices a proud declaration that any obstacle or difficulty will be surmounted.

Love that accompanies passionate activity carries significant political meaning as it has a strong potential energy that can overcome external barriers or fetters. In Chosŏn, the fulfillment of free love was a disquieting notion that confronted the social system and commonly accepted ideology of that time. Since one’s social identity was determined at birth, no matter how passionate the love between a man and a woman, they could not topple the barrier of social status. Therefore, independently choosing a lover was something far outside social norms. Such a positive expression of affection connotes a confrontational character that shakes the basic ideology of the medieval era.

Narrative sijo were paving the way for a new world through the liberation of sensitivities.

The passionate eroticism conveyed in narrative sijo has quite a different quality from the frivolousness of today’s popular songs. While today’s popular songs function to divorce people from political awareness, narrative sijo, whether voicing the ecstasy of love or the despair of separation, holds a pulling force reflecting the people’s political awakening of dissolving the feudal age.

Hidden Tales of the Royal Palace The royal palace was a place where the most stories were gathered, and, at the same time, the spot where most stories were staged. It was also a center of power and culture and thus where the people’s interests were constantly focused. The palace is where what is known as palace literature occurs. Although there are literary creations of the palace people, there are also works simply created with the backdrop of the palace.

Narratives with the backdrop of the royal palace are mostly connected with the power struggles of the royal court. As the royal court was nearly the only power in Chosŏn, failure in the palace power struggles was tantamount to losing all power. Such a situation caused power struggles to constantly reach an extreme level and such extreme incidents were followed by surprise and introspection. This surprise and introspection is what palace stories are based upon. While there are many palace stories, this section will introduce three: Kyech’uk ilgi [Diary of the year Kyech’uk], Inhyŏn wanghu-jŏn [Tale of Queen Inhyŏn], and Hanjung-nok [Record of leisurely days].

A Queen Confined in the Royal Palace, Kyech’uk ilgi Kyech’uk ilgi [Diary of the year Kyech’uk] is a work dealing with an incident in which Queen Dowager Inmok was confined to the Western Palace after the Incident of Kyech’uk in 1613.

Queen Dowager Inmok was the second wife of King Sŏnjo (r. 1567-1608). The first wife of Sŏnjo died childless and Inmok became queen; however, Sŏnjo had several sons born of concubines, one of whom was Prince Kwanghae (r. 1608-1623). Although Prince Kwanghae was the son of a royal concubine, he gained great merit in the difficult period of the Hideyoshi invasions and was named as Crown Prince. If it were the case of the common people, he would be only a son of a concubine; specifically, he was an illegitimate child, but still succeeded to the throne. Moreover, Kwanghae was not even the eldest among the illegitimate sons. In Chosŏn, a society that enhanced the status of legitimate sons and the eldest son, we have a unique case in which an illegitimate and younger sibling took the throne. The position of Kwanghae as Crown Prince was thus quite precarious. Meanwhile, Queen Inmok had both a daughter, Princess Chŏngmyŏng, and a son, Prince Yŏngch’ang, which marked the advent of legitimate royal children. While Kwanghae held the title of Crown Prince, his future was not secure since there was a legitimate child to threaten his position.

Kyech’uk ilgi begins from the birth of Princess Chŏngmyŏng. This spawned both worries and schemes of Kwanghae and the faction of his father-in-law, Ryu Chasin. These men worried that a son might be born to Inmok and create difficulties for Kwanghae taking the throne. Kwanghae, who became king after experiencing many vicissitudes, could not allow Prince Yŏngch’ang to possibly endanger his position. Therefore, he confined Queen Inmok and murdered Yŏngch’ang.

For Kwanghae, although Inmok was not his birth mother, she was someone that he had to respect as a mother since she was a wife of his father. Likewise, Prince Yŏngch’ang was as his brother.

Kwanghae was thus a depraved person who imprisoned his mother and murdered his brother, violating the ethic of filial piety, the most important moral in Confucianism.

This great crime of Kwanghae was later punished in his deposition in 1623 by King Injo (r.

1623-1649). Kwanghae’s actions were too contrary to established ethics to be accepted in a Confucian society. If Kwanghae had not been deposed the tragic palace history of this occurrence could not have been so nakedly transmitted.

Kyech’uk ilgi received early attention from academics for its realistic Korean script literary account of palace history. Although the work describes an actual event, its structure or writing style is very much like a novel. Accordingly, it has stronger characteristics as a history novel rather than a historical record. Since at the end of the work there is a line stating that this work was, “recorded by palace women in their spare time” the composer of this work is thought to be a palace woman by many. However, such a notation is commonly seen in novels and therefore it is difficult to see that this note indicates the actual writer of the work. Judging by the refined descriptions of characters and expressions, Kyech’uk ilgi is thought to have been written by a woman.

A Historical Novel, Inhyŏn wanghu-jŏn A work that shaped actual history into a novel even more realistically than Kyech’uk ilgi is Inhyŏn wanghu-jŏn [Tale of Queen Inhyŏn]. Queen Inhyŏn was the queen of King Sukchong (r.

1674-1720). Sukchong became infatuated with his secondary wife Royal Consort Chang, expelled Inhyŏn from the palace in 1689, and took Chang as his legitimate queen. Actions that Sukchong committed were prohibited by law even for commoners, as the legal code of Chosŏn prohibited expelling a legal wife and replacing her with a concubine. Thus the King did what was proscribed for even commoners. Moreover, in a time when people considered the king as a father and the queen as a mother, expelling the queen was tantamount to expelling a mother. Ultimately, Queen Inhyŏn was restored to her position and Royal Consort Chang was punished with death by being forced to drink poison. This compelling incident and its dramatic conclusion that occurred at the royal palace—the center of the people’s interest—was excellent material for fashioning a novel.

Moreover, for a man to take a concubine was common in Chosŏn, and women held matters concerning concubines to be the most important domestic issue. From such a view, a narrative telling of the king taking a concubine as a wife and bringing disorder to the country was of great interest as well as instructive. Stories of Queen Inhyŏn repeatedly surfaced in the novels of later generations as well as in genres such as unofficial histories (yadam). According to the commentary of the day, Sa-ssi namjŏng-gi [Record of Lady Sa’s trip to the south] is also a work that indirectly retells this incident.

The King Who Killed His Son in a Rice Chest, Hanjung-nok

As Kyech’uk ilgi and Inhyŏng wanghu-jŏn were close to novels in form, the contents could be described in a somewhat light writing touch although they both deal with tragic incidents at the royal palace. However, as Hanjung-nok [Record of leisurely days] was the recollection of a tragic incident written directly by the Queen Mother, the weight and importance of the narrative is quite different from the above-mentioned works. Although the title indicates this was “a record written in leisure,” in the Queen’s heart, just like the alternative title of Ŭphyŏl-lok [Record of weeping blood], it must be a record of greatly sorrowful events. Since the contents were difficult to recollect and deal with, rather paradoxically an ordinary title was used.

The writer of Hanjung-nok was Lady Hong of Hyegyŏng Palace, the wife of Crown Prince Sado, the son of King Yŏngjo (r. 1724-1776). She was the wife of the crown prince, who would soon be queen. However, Yŏngjo became suspicious of his son and ultimately ended up killing him. Sado, begging for his life, was confined in a rice-chest and killed. Lady Hong went through this tragic incident right by his side. Looking at her dying husband, she could not utter a word or do anything. King Chŏngjo (r. 1776-1800), who took the throne after Yŏngjo, was the son of Sado and Lady Hong. Lady Hong, although she became the mother of the king, could not record the tragic incidents of those days, because many people could be hurt at the slightest slip in such a record.

Hanjung-nok could be finally recorded in Lady Hong’s later years. Especially, the part describing her husband’s death was written when she was seventy years old, and unlike a record of her old age, the scene of that day was vividly recreated. So much so, we can understand the how clearly the events of that period were engraved in the mind and heart of Lady Hong.

Lady Hong could not even ask about the responsibility of her husband’s death to anyone. It would be against the ideals of filial piety to blame her father-in-law King Yŏngjo and there was no reason to put the blame on her husband either. Although she could charge the ministers of court with responsibility, a charge of culpability in a period of such extreme political strife would sacrifice too many people. Since the situation was as such, Lady Hong exposed her opinion very carefully.

Although Lady Hong did not defame her father-in-law, she described him as very petty and narrow-minded. Such a countenance of Yŏngjo does not match well with the evaluation of later generations stating he was a great king who ushered in a period of cultural renaissance for Chosŏn.

Yŏngjo was said to wash his ears if he heard any bad words related to death. Furthermore, he was recorded to have summoned Sado and share a conversation on days that he managed items related to death such as the questioning of criminals under death penalty. This was done to impute bad luck to Sado. Yŏngjo was very clear with his love and hate, so much so, he would not allow a child he disliked to stay in the same place with a child he liked. In addition, this was manifested in the fact that he would not let the child he disliked use the pathways the child he liked frequently used. Crown Prince Sado, although said to have been bright when young, was deeply hurt under such a particular and strict father. This led to him becoming gradually afraid of his father. While he was good at conversing with others, his body stiffened in front of his father and he could not properly answer his

queries. As the son grew ever more fearful of the father, the father considered the son all the more distasteful. Eventually Sado became the object of hatred for Yŏngjo who was very clear with love and hate.

Sado could not overcome this extreme uneasiness and came to show symptoms of mental illness when he was around ten years old. When Sado was fourteen, Yŏngjo put the Crown Prince in charge of administration of the country, and the weight of this responsibility suppressed him to an even greater extent. Yŏngjo placed the blame for all political mistakes and failures on Sado. Not only did he blame Sado for the petitions of the ministers, but also for natural calamities such as drought. Sado could not overcome this crushing pressure and twice tried to kill himself when barely twenty years old; after these suicide attempts, he is said to have killed servants without cause. In this situation, and against the backdrop of a rumor about a plot by the Crown Prince, in 1762 Yŏngjo, then sixty-eight years old, confined his twenty-seven year old son in a rice-chest and killed him.

Hanjung-nok is thus a representative work of palace literature of the Chosŏn period, written about tragic happening at the royal palace by a person of the palace.

Narrative Tales in Song, P’ansori P’ansori are songs fashioned out of narrative tales. It is a type of musical play in which a performer sings to the accompaniment of a drummer. However, the actions of the performer are too few to describe these performances as dramas and too many parts of the performances are not sung to call it music. To synthesize these qualities, we can term p’ansori as a dramatic musical narration.

Although there are many opinions concerning the origins of p’ansori, the theory of these songs arising from shamanic ritual songs is most influential. When shamans petition or invoke deities in rites, they sing narrative songs known as muga (shaman songs). As the shamans who sang these narrative shaman songs became secularized, they began to sing songs of people instead of songs of gods. Since p’ansori was popular and widespread in Chŏlla Province, the opinion viewing the origins of p’ansori as the shamanic songs of this area is preeminent.

The oldest extant data concerning p’ansori is the so-called Manhwa-edition of Ch’unhyang-ga [The song of Ch’unhyang], recorded by Yu Chinhan (1711-1791) in 1754 after retuning from a sightseeing trip to Chŏlla Province. Yu copied the version of Ch’unhyang-ga that he heard into Chinese character poetry (hansi). While the first p’ansori data is of the mid-eighteenth century, based on other records it is generally thought that p’ansori were performed by the last half of the seventeenth century.

While p’ansori was initially favored by those of the lower social classes, by the late eighteenth century this genre began to secure an upper class yangban audience. In this period, the performers of p’ansori began to call themselves by an elevated title of “noted singer” (myŏngch’ang). In the process that p’ansori a cultural item of the lower classes became one of the upper classes, we should especially cite the role of Sin Chaehyo (1812-1884). Sin was not of the yangban class and was a local functionary in Koch’ang of Chŏlla Province. However, Sin had considerable wealth and associated with those in the uppermost class. He was indeed a person of high cultural class. Sin not only arranged the p’ansori works that were sung here and there, but also theoretically systemized these works. Moreover, he gathered the performers and educated them according to his own theory.

The audience of p’ansori extended from low to upper class, and as time moved on p’ansori became an art that captured audiences from the basest level to the royal palace in the late nineteenth century. It continued to be widely loved and enjoyed a period of great prosperity in the early twentieth century. There are five extant and presently performed p’ansori songs: Ch’unhyangga, Sim Ch’ŏng-ga [The song of Sim Ch’ŏng], Sugung-ga [The song of the underwater palace], Hŭngbu-ga [The song of Hŭngbu], and Chŏkpyŏk-ka [The song of the red cliffs]. Among these, Ch’unhyang-ga, Sim Ch’ŏng-ga, and Hŭngbu-ga are so well known that there is not a Korean who does not know the stories.

Originally there were many more p’ansori works. An 1843 record written by Song Manjae informs that there were twelve p’ansori works. So at that time, there were at least twelve

works of this genre. Yet, only five of these have been transmitted in full. Nonetheless, we still know the content of these works as they have been preserved as novels that are thought near to the original work; it is the musical score that has been lost to time. The seven works that have been passed down as only texts are Pyŏn Kangsoe-ga [The song of Pyŏn Kangsoe], Ong kojip t’aryŏng [The ballad of stubborn Mr. Ong], Changkki t’aryŏng [The ballad of a male pheasant], Musugi t’aryŏng [The ballad of Musuk], Pae pijang t’aryŏng [The ballad of General Pae], Kangnŭng maehwa t’aryŏng [The ballad of Maehwa of Kangnŭng], and Katcha sinsŏn t’aryŏng [The ballad of the fake Daoist immortal]. All of these works are transmitted as novels except Pyŏn Kangsoe-ga. The lyrics of Pyŏn Kangsoe-ga are recorded in Sin Chaehyo’s collection of p’ansori songs. Katcha sinsŏn t’aryŏng recorded in the last section of Sin’s work is thought to be the same as the novel Kŭmgang t’anyu-rok, but this has not been verified.

The Love of a Kisaeng, Ch’unhyang-jŏn Among the premodern works transmitted as either p’ansori or novel, the story that carries the greatest popularity is Ch’unhyang-ga. Ch’unhyang-ga is known by the title of Ch’unhyangjŏn [The tale of Ch’unhyang] after it was modified into the novel form. The contents of p’ansori works here are introduced through the novel versions created from the p’ansori narratives.

There are various versions of Ch’unhyang-jŏn as a “penalty” for the popularity of the work and accordingly the contents differ somewhat as well. In general, however, it describes the love between Ch’unhyang, the daughter of the kisaeng (female entertainer) Wŏlmae, and Yi Mongnyong, the son of the magistrate of Namwŏn. Yi was from Seoul but came to Namwŏn when his father changed posts. He was a sixteen-year old youth who needed to concentrate on his studies for the government service examination, but he gazed upon Ch’unhyang riding on a swing one Tano day (i.e., a festival of the fifth day of the fifth lunar month) and fell in love with her at once. Although the love of the two was bound with Mongnyong’s heartfelt entreaty, when his father was transferred to the central government in Seoul, the two were separated. Mongnyong pledged to Ch’unhyang that he would return for her, but it was difficult to believe such a promise given by an upper class yangban to the daughter of a lowly kisaeng. Subsequently, Pyŏn Hakto was posted as the new magistrate of Namwŏn. Pyŏn heard of the great beauty of Ch’unhyang, and demanded that she sleep with him; Ch’unhyang, stating that she was betrothed to another, refused to do so. Thus, Pyŏn had her imprisoned for not complying with a royal magistrate’s order as kisaeng were the property of the government.

While Ch’unhyang was incarcerated, Mongnyong passed the government service examination, was appointed as Secret Royal Inspector, and came to Chŏlla Province. On his way, he heard of Pyŏn’s oppressive rule and of Ch’unhyang’s imprisonment. As Secret Royal Inspector, Yi attended the birthday banquet of Pyŏn and greatly chastised the town magistrate who had neglected the difficulties of the people and instead satiated his own greed. He further charged the

greedy officials for their crimes. He then summoned Ch’unhyang, asked forgiveness for his heartlessness, and rewarded her for her hardships. The king heard of this story and conferred the title of Pure and Reverend Lady upon her, the daughter of a kisaeng, which in general was given only to the primary wife of high government officials.

Ch’unhyang-jŏn is a love story of Yi Mongnyong and Ch’unhyang. If we are to cite the subject matter of narrative, however, it is the Confucian notion of fidelity that stands out as manifested in the resistance of Ch’unhyang against Pyŏn. As generally readers recognized Ch’unhyang as a chaste woman, it is not incorrect to state the subject matter of this work as a woman’s fidelity. Yet, it is a distortion of the true circumstances of Ch’unhyang-jŏn to understand the only subject matter of the work as fidelity. The animated and popular expressions, and resistance and deviation against the upper class or the upper class culture are the special features that make Ch’unhyang-jŏn worthy of being Ch’unhyang-jŏn. From such aspects, the theme of this work can be read as the resistance of the lower social groups against the power of the upper social groups as embodied in Ch’unhyang’s relationship with Yi Mongnyong and her defiance of Pyŏn. Furthermore, as the social status of Ch’unhyang is ultimately elevated with her title of Pure and Reverend Lady, this can be seen as the hopes of those in the lower social classes for higher status. As this work possesses aspects of the upper class ideology such as female fidelity and also the resistant cultural characteristics of the lower classes, this narrative was able to become a piece of national literature that attracted social classes high and low.

The Filial Daughter who Threw her Body into the Sea, Sim Ch’ŏng-jŏn Sim Ch’ŏng-jŏn [The tale of Sim Ch’ŏng] is a work that was every bit as popular as Ch’unhyang-jŏn. The narrative tells of a blind father and an exceptionally filial daughter who are separated and then eventually reunited. Sim Ch’ŏng loses her mother when very young and is raised by her blind father. Her father does not even have milk to feed the child and thus goes about begging for breast milk, raising her with great difficulty. Sim Ch’ŏng becomes older and works as a day laborer for neighbors and takes care of her father. One day, the blind man hears that if he offers three hundred sacks of rice to the Buddha, he can regain his sight. His daughter hears of this and agonizes over being unable to secure the needed three hundred sacks of rice. At that time, she hears that merchants are seeking a maiden to present to the gods as a sacrifice for a safe voyage over a rough sea. Sim Ch’ŏng thereby sells her body for the three hundred sacks of rice and arranges for it to be offered at the temple. Sim Ch’ŏng sets sail with the merchants and casts her body into the rough ocean known as the Indangsu.

After jumping into the sea, Sim Ch’ŏng does not die but is rather guided to the Dragon Palace. Once there, she discovers that she was originally the Dragon Princess of the East Sea. Subsequently, she is enveloped in a large flower cluster and floats upon the Indangsu where passing merchants come upon the flowers and thinking it strange take the flower to the royal palace of the

Yuri Kingdom. After becoming queen, Sim Ch’ŏng holds a banquet for all the blind men of the country to look for her father. Blindman Sim comes to the banquet and is again reunited with his daughter, now the queen of the kingdom. Upon being reunited, Sim opens his eyes and gains his sight; moreover, all the other blind men at the feast also open their eyes and gain their vision.

Thereafter, Sim Ch’ŏng lives happily with her father.

Sim Ch’ŏng-jŏn has a theme based upon filial piety that could move any reader regardless of social status. The father’s sincerity and daughter’s sacrifice in the midst of poverty and obstacles shine all the brighter. Moreover, the scene in which her blind father and all the blind men of the country gain their sight demonstrates that her noble sacrifice results in the resolution of the world’s rancor. The scene of the appearance of the secret inspector Ch’unhyang-jŏn and the scene of opening the gourd in Hŭngbu-jŏn are similar to this and mark a great reversal that instantly solves all pain and oppression, spreading like a festival.

A Greedy Elder Brother and Kindly Younger Brother, Hŭngbu-jŏn Hŭngbu-jŏn [The tale of Hŭngbu] is a narrative that tells of a greedy elder brother named Nolbu and a kind-hearted younger brother Hŭngbu. After the death of their father, Nolbu takes all the property of his father and drives off Hŭngbu without as much as a penny. Nonetheless, Hŭngbu does not resent his older brother and lives in an extreme poverty. When he can no longer endure the gnawing hunger, he calls at his older brother’s house, but without even receiving a bowl of rice, he is slapped on the cheek by the wife of his brother and returns empty-handed. One day Hŭngbu finds an injured swallow in his yard that cannot fly and nurses the bird back to health. As autumn passes and spring arrives, the once injured swallow returns with a gourd seed for Hŭngbu. He plants the seed and by autumn a large gourd grows on the vine. He picks and opens the gourd with a saw, revealing a treasure of gold, silver and other valuables, thereby making Hŭngbu a man of great wealth. Nolbu hears of his brother’s windfall and the circumstances behind this; thus, he intentionally breaks a swallow’s leg, nurses it to health, and watches it fly away. The following year the swallow brings a gourd seed to Nolbu as well. He plants the seed and later opens it, revealing a myriad of bad things such as snakes and hobgoblins. These creatures ruin and disgrace Nolbu. Hŭngbu hears of his brother’s misfortune and shares his property with his brother. Nolbu regrets his past wrongful behaviors and the brothers live harmoniously thereafter.

While Ch’unhyang-jŏn and Sim Ch’ŏng-jŏn conclude with a grand finish, there are two such grand finales in Hŭngbu-jŏn. This is due to the narrative employing a repetitious structure that repeats similar incidents. Both of the climatic closing structures are the gourd opening scenes. Of course the outcome is different with Hŭngbu reaping benefit and Nolbu misfortune.

The three above-discussed narratives are the most widely read and performed of the p’ansori works. That all have festive conclusions that reverse unfavorable circumstances demonstrates the great desire of the people of the Chosŏn period for such an outcome in their own

lives. The wish of the people for reversals from discrimination to equality, from sadness with hardships to happiness, and from poverty to a world of abundance was as earnest as that.

Extending Experience and New Possibilities for Kasa

After the seventeen century, the composer group of kasa became diverse and the content as well became specialized in many aspects. As we examined earlier, noteworthy in kasa of early Chosŏn are lyrical aspects based upon the aesthetic sense of the literati class or the influence of periodic circumstances. Yet, due to this genre’s open characteristics and flexibility, it was hard to confine kasa creations to a certain lyrical flow. Especially as the mode for enjoying literature in late Chosŏn shifted to the recitation of books from singing, features of kasa that variously reflected reality came to the surface as much as possible.

For the literati, kasa compositions moved towards directions that emphasized more concrete experiences, and the range widened to include forms such as travel kasa (kihaeng kasa), exile kasa (yubae kasa), and landscape kasa (p’ungmul kasa). Resultant from this, the lyrical characteristics of the kasa of the early period were considerably weakened and the feature relaying facts became more prominent. Furthermore, womenfolk, who had heretofore been excluded from the stage of literary creation, arose as a new writer group, and brought about the kasa of the woman’s quarters (kyubang kasa) and produced numerous works. Finally, kasa by commoners that honestly captured the realities and emotions of the base culture contributed to making kasa compositions even more abundant.

One Transition in Kasa Literature: The Literary World of Pak Illo Pak Illo is an individual who marked one transition in the history of kasa literature. He lived from the late sixteenth to early seventeenth century, a time that demarked the early Chosŏn period from the late. He was born to a fallen yangban family and suffered poverty his whole life through. At the age of thirty-eight he fought in the wars of Hideyoshi invasions, and the kasa he wrote —“Sŏnsangt’an” [Lament on the water] and “Nuhangsa” [In praise of poverty]—were based on his experiences of this time.

“Sŏnsangt’an” was composed when Pak served as shipmaster in Pusan in 1605, some seven years after the conclusion of the Japanese invasions. In this work, Pak describes his deep and innermost thoughts while onboard a ship at sea against the backdrop of the heavy clouds of war. His thoughts in this work center on his enmity for the war against the Japanese and an earnest desire for peace.

“Nuhangsa” is Pak’s most representative work as well as the best of the seventeenth century kasa literature. This work realistically expresses the poor lives of the fallen yangban of the time. The speaker in the work, although he participated in the bloody war for some five years, ultimately was forced to return to his hometown in desperate poverty. Against this backdrop, he attempts to plow his field and sow seeds, but he has no ox. Thus, he goes to a wealthy neighbor’s house that promised to

lend him the animal. This scene is the zenith of the work: in this figure plodding along to borrow an ox on a moonless night, the absolute poverty of the fallen rural yangban of the time is vividly reflected.

“Iltong chang’yuga” [Grand trip to Japan] is a full length travel kasa totaling some two thousand lines and written by Kim In’gyŏm who lived in the eighteenth century. The work is a detailed record of Kim’s visit to Japan as part of an official embassy of Chosŏn. The travel records of such official embassies had been written in literary Chinese on earlier occasions, but from the point that this work was written in a kasa of Korean language, it is greatly meaningful.

The structure of this work is largely divided into three parts. The first section recounts the departure from the capital of Chosŏn, Hanyang, to the arrival at Pusan; the second covers the journey from Pusan to Edo (i.e., modern day Tokyo) and the presentation of credentials to the minister assisting the emperor; the third division of this work retells the return journey from Edo to Hanyang.

During the course of these travels, episodes of discord concerning the Chosŏn envoys or Japanese officials are interspersed, creating heightened interest. For example, the kasa tells of a late rainy night on a slippery road when the embassy experienced trouble as the Japanese palanquin bearers put down the sedan chairs and refused to go forward, or in another account about when beautifully decorated and magnificent looking foods were served to the guests but had such a foul odor that none could eat the food.

More than all else, the aspect that makes this work even more noteworthy is the objective observations of Japan. Especially, the composer’s descriptions upon seeing the center of a prosperous Japanese city, “it is ten thousand times the scale of Chongno (the main street of the Chosŏn capital)” and “the splendor of Zhongyuan (a Chinese city) is not superior to this” are noteworthy. Such commentary indicates that he did not taint his views with antagonistic feelings towards Japan and observed the country from an empirical stance despite the ill feelings he held for Japan. Namely, he escaped from the deep-rooted China-centered prejudice commonly seen in travel records of journeys to Qing China, and looked at things truthfully as they were. Another interesting aspect of this work is its length. Such a characteristic demonstrates that while the form of kasa is close to a type of poetry, it is also quite near to prose forms such as the novel or documentary literature.

The Joys and Sorrows of Women, Kyubang Kasa Kyubang kasa indicates the series of works that dealt with the joys and sorrows in the lives of women who were actually confined to the inner rooms of homes. Regardless of content, these works are meaningful from the point that women arose as a literature-creating group. Much like other literary genres, kasa was also once a literary form exclusively possessed by upper class male literati.

Women in Chosŏn were completely estranged socially as well as culturally. In the case of narrative sijo there were female writers, but this was a numerically small number and most composers were of the peculiar social status of kisaeng (female entertainers). In contrast, kyubang kasa were created not only by upper status yangban women but by women of all classes, and thus this genre demonstrates

that the gap in sexual discrimination had narrowed in medieval culture.

“Kyuwŏn-ga” [Song of a woman’s rancor] is a work that marks the starting point for kyubang kasa. Although not ascertainable, this work is thought to have been composed by Hŏ Nansŏrhŏn, the younger sister of Hŏ Kyun. As clearly demonstrated by the alternative title for this work—“Wŏnbu-ga” [Song of a wife’s rancor]—we see that the subject of this work is resentment towards the composer’s husband. This song unfolds in a soliloquy style recollecting the writer’s youth and develops in a fast tempo the process of the writer meeting her husband when young, living with him in uneasiness and anxiety, and seeing her husband leave her.

Interesting in this work is that the lover is assuredly not an ideal figure. The man the writer longs for is only a womanizer who acts rashly and becomes involved with kisaeng. This differs from the figure of the ideal lover described in the works of the literati in early Chosŏn. Why, then, would the poetic narrator not forget such an insincere man as this? This highlights the very grief in the lives of Chosŏn women. Women were blocked from realizing a socially independent life and belonged to their husband, thus there was no other choice but to wait for the husband who had abandoned her.

Accordingly the woman’s sorrow and yearning for her husband manifested in this work should rightfully be understood as a lamentation about women’s reality itself, that is, that they had to live their whole lives subordinated to men, rather than sorrow simply from being abandoned by her husband.

Of course it is difficult to consider the woman reflected in “Kyuwŏn-ga” as a positive and developing figure. However, from the aspect that she did not accept the regulations of endurance and obedience that feudalism demanded, and honestly exposed her unhappiness and inner discord, the meaning of the song is worthy of recognition as being sufficiently full.

“Kyuwŏn-ga” was followed by a series of works that freely expressed the sentiments of women suppressed by the feudalistic order in late Chosŏn. Works such as “Chup’ung kam pyŏlgok” [Song of emotions in the autumn wind], “Tanjangsa” [Words of heartbreak], and “Kyusu sangsa-gok” [Song of a maiden’s longing] are all classified as love kasa (aejŏng kasa), with the most representative work of this class being “Sangsa pyŏlgok” [Song of longing]. This anonymous work explores a lonesome woman’s heartbreaking emotions without any pretense or restraint. Beginning with the line “Among all sorts of things related to separation, staying alone in a room is most heartbreaking,” the song repeats familiar lines of “while asleep or awake, while awake or asleep,” “appears before my eyes, sounds in my ears,” “want to see” and “want to hear,” sincerely escaping from ethical formality and expressing the basic instincts of human sensations.

Such sentimental expressions that formed the main contents of the commoner’s kasa in late Chosŏn reflected the sentiments of commoners who longed to escape the feudal Confucian ethics. The figure of the loved one described in these works was completely removed from the metaphor for the king found in the works of the literati and transformed into a concrete object of love that the speaker of the work enthusiastically missed. Also, while the affection of narrative sijo focused on the honest exposure of delight and the pleasure of love rather than the pain of separation, kyubang kasa of late Chosŏn showed the depth of desperate grief and yearning in front of a destiny of separation.

Descriptions of Social Conditions in Commoner’s Kasa Many of the kasa of late Chosŏn are notable for the complicated depictions of people of the day and descriptions of social conditions. These works are classified as sŏmin kasa (commoner’s kasa). Representative works include “Ubu-ga” [Song of the foolish husband], Yongbu-ga [Song of the dull wife], No ch’ŏnyŏ-ga [Song of a spinster], and “Tendong ŏmi norae” [Song of the burnt child’s mother].

In “Ubu-ga” there are three characters of Kaettongi, Kkong saengwŏn, and Kkoeng saengwŏn who each belong to a different social class. They are characters who do not manage their lives through normal labor instead only pursuing wealth and pleasure with extreme selfishness, and finally experience downfall. For example, Kaettongi was a prodigal who gambled and cavorted with a kisaeng concubine, Kkong saengwŏn was a swindler who cheated others by fair or foul means, and Kkoeng saengwŏn was a troublemaker who spent his time plundering widows, drinking and behaving disorderly, and brawling. Similar to this work is “Yongbu-ga.” This song tells of a woman who enters her husband’s home and does not serve her parents-in-law, instead chasing after her own selfish desires.

The distorted depiction of such characters portrays people that appeared as a byproduct of the collapse of the village cooperative system that began after the Japanese and Manchu invasions as the logic of capitalism began to spread throughout the country. Although the manner of expression reminds of Nolbu’s sharp temper or other descriptions in p’ansori narratives, the sentiment is not the same. P’ansori through humorous depictions allows readers to feel an emotional bond with characters; however, the description in kasa was so sharp and severe that there was no room for readers to feel such sympathy. For example, when the misbehaviors of Nolbu were retold one after another, readers, while criticizing such flaws, could also laugh at such actions. However, it is hard to feel such sentimental sympathy for the characters in either “Yongbu-ga” or “Ubu-ga.” Of course, not all the characters of the sŏmin kasa were so negative. There are more than a few works that positively describe characters who developed their lives under a hard and oppressive reality. “No chŏnyŏ-ga” and “Tendong ŏmi norae” are good examples of such works.

“No ch’ŏnyŏ-ga” begins with the lament of an old maid who had an ugly face and had not married until she was in her fifth decade. She prepared for a turning point to overcome this by setting out her physical faults. The song tells, “Although I am deformed, what is worse than others? / Do not speak of my pockmarked face, wisdom lays upon the marks. / Do not speak of my dark face, if I powder it, will it not be lighter? / Although one eye is blind, the other is bright. / Since I eat with my right hand, what use is a left hand? / Although my left leg is gimpy, I can still walk to the privy. / Although my nostrils are stuffy, I can still smell.” While the speaker has all sorts of physical disadvantages, instead of wallowing in inferiority, she splendidly enumerates her strong points on the other side.

Subsequently, she decides to resolve her problems by herself without relying on her parents or relatives. She proposes to a man she holds in her mind, finally marries just like she has dreamed, and lives happily thereafter. The story itself is interesting in that a spinster overcomes all sorts of difficulties and finds happiness, and the comical expressions throughout the work enhanced its exquisiteness to the utmost.

“Tendong ŏmi norae” also truthfully deals with the life of a commoner woman. Unlike “No ch’ŏnyŏ-ga” the sentiment of this work is quite tragic. Although the subject of the song, Tendong’s mother, is from a middle class family, she falls into a low class status. For her livelihood, she marries as many as four times, but unexpected misfortunes visit her when she is on the brink of a stable life, and all the things she has accumulated until then collapse. In the end, she marries an old taffy seller and has a son. At the point when she is able to enjoy a happy life, a huge fire breaks out, killing her husband and burning her son. This is how her son comes to have the nickname of Tendong, or the burnt kid.

This work is structured upon the mother’s return to her hometown with her son, and retelling her checkered life story to the town womenfolk. The poverty that she could never escape no matter how she struggled and the never ending misfortunes she experienced were pervasive among those of the lower social classes. In this work we see detailed descriptions of every sort of labor and hardship experienced by the lower status groups of late Chosŏn who had been uprooted from their villages and thus forced to lead drifting lives. The work is over one hundred sixty lines, and is further noteworthy from the aspect that it demonstrates the tendency for works in the kasa genre to approach the novel form.

The Origin of Popular Songs, the World of Chapka

Chapka (miscellaneous songs) indicates various forms of songs and thus well matched with its name. Although there are some differences of opinion concerning this category, in general, chapka includes songs such as the twelve chapka (sibi chapka), fast-tempo chapka (hwimori chapka), Kyŏnggi songs (Kyŏnggi sori), Northwestern songs (sŏdo sori) and Southern songs (namdo sori).

The twelve chapka were created under the influence of the twelve kasa, and many contents from p’ansori works were incorporated into these songs as can be seen in titles such as Chŏkpyŏk-ka [Song of the red cliffs] and So Ch’unhyang-ga [Song of So Ch’unhyang] among others. In the fasttempo chapka, there are songs such as Kombo t’aryŏng [Ballad of pockmarked person], Maengkkongi t’aryŏng [Ballad of the frog], and Pawi t’aryŏng [Ballad of the rock], which are greatly extended motifs from old narrative sijo. There are also those songs which were newly created after the start of the twentieth century such as P’ungdŭng-ga [Song of an abundant crop], Kisaeng t’aryŏng [Ballad of the kisaeng], and Pyŏngjŏng t’aryŏng [Ballad of the soldier] among others. The chapka of the central, northern, and southern regions are resultant from reworking native folksongs into a refined and complex music. Chapka, after all, is a mixed form in its own peculiar world created after absorbing many traditional forms such as kasa, p’ansori, narrative sijo, and folksongs (minyo).

From this very point it can be said that chapka reveals some aspects of modern popular songs.

Flexibility of Form in Chapka We can surmise that the chapka form began to gain popularity in roughly the mid-nineteenth century. However, chapka were enjoyed by those of the lower social classes because the music of the towns in the late nineteenth century was still led by forms such as kasa, kagok (lyrical songs), and sijo songs. The chapka of this time was a musical form of the lower classes that was sung by lower rank kisaeng and lower class singing groups. Accordingly, chapka only began to expand it influence at the close of the nineteenth century. Especially, since in the late nineteenth century all sorts of singing groups in Seoul and P’yŏngyang were formed, such as the Ttuksŏm Troupe, Chin’gogae Troupe, and the Nalt’ang Troupe, these groups are thought to have played a major role in the popularity of chapka. In the early twentieth century, a new environment marked by the advent of the modern-style theatric plays and the production of phonographic records allowed chapka to rapidly rise in Korean music history.

As p’ansori produced numerous great singers, chapka also produced countless popular stars. The noted singers of chapka until the late nineteenth century were mostly handicraftsmen, but in the twentieth century truly professional singers appeared. Well-known singers such as Pak Ch’unjae, Mun Yŏngsu and Yi Chŏnghwa along with lower rank kisaeng singers such as Kangjin, Hongdo, and Pop’ae were famous singers at the van of early twentieth century chapka. Among them, Pak Ch’unjae (1877-1948) was a superstar who was counted as the best not only at chapka, but also foot maskeddance, witticism and the changgo (an hourglass-shaped drum). It was Pak who made the first

recordings, who recorded the largest number of songs, as well as the one who sold the most records.

Moreover in chapka collections, song titles such as Pak Ch’unjae sori [Song of Pak Ch’unjae] appear in several places, and allow us to assume his popularity of that time.

Chapka are based on the six beats of the totŭri rhythm (a repetitive rhythm). However since it is possible to vary the rhythm or tune in each work, it can be said a very flexible genre. For example, in case of Chebi-ga [Song of the swallow], it begins with a totŭri rhythm for the first eighteen beats, but from the line of “Going out to catch swallows” it changes into a semach’i beat (a fast tempo of nine-eight time) and inspires a cheerful and vigorous feeling. Talgŏri [Events of the calendar] belongs to the chap-chapka [miscellaneous chapka] style which was cited as being even baser among the chapka works. This form was especially popular because of the changing beats of an extended and tense rhythm. In other words, the music of chapka had a dynamic rhythm as well as a strong beat. Such features as these even apply to sad and slow songs such as Susim-ga [Song of grief], the basic rhythm of the northwestern songs. Of course this could be a result of the vital power of folksongs in this time of dismantling feudal society being refined to match the urban atmosphere of Seoul or P’yŏngyang.

This musical activity that colorfully interchanged high and low, tenseness and slackness, was combined with fluidity and created the peculiar character of chapka. These songs absorbed all the elegant things, vulgarized to the style of chapka, and functioned as a motive power to expose the common people’s desires or sentiments. That chapka could actively change into a modern-style performance object also was based on this flexibility of form.

Liveliness of Chapka Language Chapka has an excellent capacity to animate the living shapes of things. For example, in works such as Sae t’aryŏng [Ballad of the birds] all sorts of bird sounds are tastefully expressed. On top of the colorful onomatopoetic words in the song, the descriptions of human life and the human condition through birds were a linguistic stage that only chapka could achieve.

Clearly chapka could elevate the latent potential of the Korean language in various ways because these songs fully expanded its flexibility as a popular genre. The kasa and sijo recorded in song collections demonstrate a propensity to adhere to methods of expression favored by former generations, following format regulations in spite of the change in subjects and sentiments. Compared to this, as chapka became entrenched as a popular form, these songs could freely express a multitude of emotions and objects without any language restraints.

Such linguistic coping power also functioned further in the ability to colorfully capture the changing state of society. Chapka fully utilized flexibility of form and drew the customs and prevailing conditions from the end of the Great Han Empire (1897-1910) to the Age of Enlightenment like a kaleidoscope. Examples of this are Pyŏngjŏng t’aryŏng [Ballad of the soldier] and Maengkkongi t’aryŏng [Ballad of the frog]. Both these works belong to the grouping of fast-tempo songs (hwimori

chapka) favored in the Seoul area. These fast-tempo songs were formed with a fast rhythmic pattern taryŏngjo), and are noteworthy among chapka for ample satire and humor. Pyŏngjŏng t’aryŏng well describes the situation of being a modern soldier with the creation of a modern military force and also the daily lives of soldiers as well. Maengkkongi t’aryŏng is counted the best among the fasttempo songs and is thought to have been enjoyed from around 1910. The song wittily describes all sorts of people and things of Seoul through a frog. The depictions in this song diversely describe Seoul, mainly around Ch’ŏnggye Stream, with interesting scenes one after another.

There are numerous other songs which dealt with the conditions of the town such as “Changdaejang t’aryŏng” that has a very long story structure, “Paettaragi” that sang the hardships of seamen, and “Tambagwi t’aryŏng” that captured town customs through a cigarette. These various panoramas were expanded sometimes in a humorous way and sometimes in a solemn manner.

Of course the characters and state of conditions described in these songs were no more than snobs that had no connection with historical development, or who simply pursued their own selfish desires without any concern for others and were eventually ruined. Therefore, what is important here lies in the story itself that these snobs develop. In other words, when the greed and collapse of common people were mixed with a lively rhythm, the people could immerse in this without experiencing any burden but still feel interest. These songs allow us the joy of meeting the lively breath of common people who lived normal lives during this time, and along with this, the vein of rich musical ore of the Korean language.

Manifestation of Emotions in Chapka The activeness and flexibility of chapka created another special feature, that being an explosive outpouring of emotion. As with folksongs in general, the core factors of these emotional sentiments are erotic desire, sadness of separation, and the vanity of life. Of course, these themes were what had been pursued steadily in the sijo and kasa literature of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Chapka, while continuing this trend, created a special quality distinct from the forms of earlier times. This resulted from, more than all else, an honest exposure of the speaker without poetic pose or roundabout gestures. The songs that best captures this are those of the Susim-ga [Song of grief] series.

We two are not meant to be together, rather we are enemies. It is so hard to see and often separate, I cannot live…

My dear, thinking of me so much when climbing up and down and crying so hard, the roadside is like the waters of the Han River Truly I can live no more, earnestly longing for my dear.

In addition to the above, there are various renditions of Susim-ga. The common sentiment of

this series is the sadness of separation and an earnest longing for love and desire. The method of expressing such feelings was far from the former style of internalization or detour through mediations.

Rather these songs directly and honestly poured out whatever the feelings were: either the sadness of separation or an erotic desire for love. The love and separation manifested in chapka are described in coarse and disordered fashion brought about by a lack of internal temperance. Such a property was strengthened by pairing with extreme phrases such as “cutting the throat with a knife,” “‘to be all skin and bones,” “risking one’s life,” and “severing the five vital organs.”

Such a quality seems deeply related to the fact that the affection or desire roused in these songs does not have a clear inclination. In general, the affection and desire described in the poems and songs of this period of dismantling feudalism featured an individualized enthusiastic recitation that confronted medieval regulations. This was possible because the individual carried a tragic pathos when experiencing confrontations with the world. However, there is neither inclination for anti-medieval value nor an enthusiastic pathos for society in chapka. This was not passion for a single object, but an instantaneous reaction drawn out from a parcel of desire, as well as a mysterious lamentation that even the poetic speakers could not understand. In this type of sentiment, there was no space to infuse any sort of noble value. The speaker only had to put themselves in front of these changing desires. Since this is, from a certain aspect, a rapturous sentiment, such a feature of chapka can be said a quality that defines the conventional sentimentalism in these works.

Such a frank exposure of this emotional activity is deeply related to the unfixed pattern of the chapka form, manifested in the lively beat and rhythmical sense. This free and wild deviation from formality coupled with properties of unchained emotions raised a feeling of mutual ascent, and created the unique sense of beauty found only in chapka. Also, this indiscriminate outflow of sentimentality is resolutely combined with the immovability of life in general as well as with its unbearable vainness.

How many heroes and which matchless beauties are in those high and low graves at Simrihŏ [i.e., Simriha] of Nagyang Castle?

When we too die, since we will end up there as such, let’s eat, spend, play, and enjoy while alive…

Sŏngju p’uri [Song to the guardian deity] The uncertainty of life and an inclination towards pleasure against this backdrop are the general theme of all popular arts, including chapka. As we can see in the above example, life is over once one dies. Expressions commonly used demonstrate the fleetingness or vainness of life such as “dewdrops on the end of a blade of grass” or “a butterfly that rushed into a fire.” To forget such an “unbearable superficiality of existence,” people had to “eat, spend money, and have fun.” Such a subjective corruption that caused one to fully enjoy life resulted in multiple reverberations.

For example, chapka functions to provide those of the leisure class unlimited pleasure, the town people liberation from daily difficulties, the aged, who had passed through all sorts of hardships,

compassion about an irrevocable past, and the young a vital power to escape restraints and to enjoy the life as it was. There were, in other words, various emotional bonds as broad as the depth of social classes and groups that enjoyed these songs. These “let’s have fun” type songs are one repertory with a long history in Korea, and obtained an even more abundant rhythmical manifestation and popularity in chapka.

On the other side of the pleasure seeking and transient nature of chapka lie the unexplainable sorrows of life. This must have originated from reflection on the difficult lives of the people who enjoyed these songs. Paettaragi, which describes the hardships of seamen who were often crossing the line of death, vividly demonstrates such a point. Of course it is not that the sorrow of chapka has concrete foundations in life like this song. Rather, Pattaragi is an exceptional case, with most of these songs veiled in an unidentifiable ambiguous mood, as we see in Susim-ga. The rhythm of these songs is in general a pathetic and sorrowful rhythm, and thus has very different qualities from the resolute and light tones of songs in the twelve chapka (sibi chapka) and fast-tempo chapka (hwimori chapka) forms. Thus, although the lyrics of these songs are in disorder and rough, when performed, they arouse a sadness that grips the listener’s heart.

Then, why is it that love is not satisfied and life is so lonely and vain? This might be a type of emotional response arising from the emptiness of this age. What is a modern society? On one hand, it is a time in which the reasoning power of humans can comprehend the laws of the objective world; however, on the other hand, this time also means that individual desires were thrown out on a bare field after all regulations collapsed. It is considered that the emotional eruption found in chapka and the grief of life is deeply related to the latter characteristic. To the urban people who lived in the early twentieth century, the world was something changing momentarily and moving in an unknowable direction. Although they did not know what was ahead, it was obvious that the quality of life was changed. Moreover, the path of modern history from the violent shaking of late Chosŏn through the colonial period must have been sufficient to spread the variableness and unknowingness of the world.

This must have been a truly shocking experience, and at the same time, something aimless. This aimlessness was reflected in songs, which could not be anything but endless grief (susim).

The Dismantling of Literary Chinese Forms and a New Civilization Even after the nineteenth century, literature in literary Chinese was still the main literary form. Numerous writers still created works and the poetry circle still prospered. Different, however, was the prominent advance of writers of the middle people (chung’in) class. Unlike the already downfallen yangban class, this chung’in literature could enter to the central literary circle due to their rapidly elevated social and economical status. Despite their secondary status, it was not like the literature of this group only voiced anger about the social system or discord in social status.

One of the special features of the works in literary Chinese in the nineteenth century was the conspicuous dissolution of literary forms. The creation of poems in irregular or dismantled forms such as those by Kim Satkat was the most symbolical phenomenon. The form of solemn hansi (poems in Chinese characters) was twisted and infused with jesting wordplay, thereby challenging existing literary practices.

Even during the progression of such an experiment of dissolution, the traditional debate of writing theory that addressed issues of correct and incorrect in the relation between literature and ethics seriously continued. Continuing the work of Hong Sŏkchu and Kim Maesun, writers such as Yu Sinhwan and Kim Yunsik seriously anguished over what the role of literature should be in a fast changing world. While they believed in immutability of ethics, they also trusted in the fact that literature was the most useful means to breakthrough the heaped up matters of the day.

The late nineteenth century was a time of chaos resultant from incongruity of the various movements between the conservatives and the progressives. The wave of the enlightenment, in the meanwhile, shook the identity of society. Due to an explosive increase in the demand for knowledge and development of mass media, literature in literary Chinese could not maintain its solid status that had been held for more than a thousand years.

Sorrowful Wordplay, the Hansi of Kim Satkat The hansi of the nineteenth century moved away from the simple and uniform sounds as in the past and produced more complex forms. The most noticeable phenomenon of hansi in this time was that much was written for pleasure. The seriousness of poems gradually disappeared and wordplay and humor noisily danced into the works. This caused the existing poetic forms to dissipate. Such an actuality was based on the idea of escaping centralism and ideology.

Yo Rowŏn yahwa-gi [Anecdote of Yo Rowŏn] is a narrative of an all-night poem composing match between a Seoul scholar and the country scholar Yo Rowŏn while they passed the night at an inn. However, the hansi they composed for this contest was not regular form, but rather playful poems in irregular forms such as mixing in han’gŭl words and using wordplay and riddles.

The representative writer of such playful hansi in late Chosŏn was Kim Satkat.

The poetry of Kim Satkat symbolically demonstrates the changes of literary Chinese works

in this period. Kim, whose given name was Kim Pyŏngyŏn (1807-1863), was from a fallen yangban family and due to matters in his family background could not even sit for the government service examinations. Since the study he accumulated for social success in life burst as a bubble one day, he roamed the eight provinces of the country and gained great popularity among the people by composing his experimental hansi loaded with satire and jest.

However, when examining literary documents of this period, we can see that there were numerous people that can be assumed to have been Kim Satkat. There are aspects that do not allow us to view all the irregular hansi as being composed by Kim. His poetry collection was published in 1939, some seventy years after his death. The poems in this collection were those thought by people to have been so clever that they could only have been the work of a poet such as Kim. The special features of these playful poems are deviations from literary form, humorous content, popular appeal, and anonymity. In much the same manner as narrative sijo deviated from standard sijo, these works drew upon non-poetic objects for material. In these poems non-standard objects are first disguised and then revealed to be satire and jest to readers, thereby confusing readers. For example, when interpreting some of these poems by only meaning, it seems simply a usual poem. However, when read by sound, a wordplay surfaces that is not related to its meaning at all. So to speak, these works confused readers by intentionally creating a gap between surface meaning and another, reverse, intention; at the same time, these works intended, there on the spot, to render impotent what had been spoken. Also in these poems, han’gŭl was mixed into the hansi, objects like fleas or mosquitoes were boastfully exaggerated, and wordplays were mixed in that a Chinese reader would never understand.

This exceptional character of the hansi of Kim Satkat was gradually extended and in the long run accelerated the dissolution of hansi as a genre. Subsequently, poems composed in seven syllables as in the fashion of hansi, but in han’gŭl, became greatly popular throughout the country.

This became a type of game in which poems were composed in a fashion similar to the sevencharacter hansi poems, but with rhyming words in han’gŭl. The newspapers and magazines of this period published a prize list of such poems countrywide.

The Collapse of Hansi in the Age of Enlightenment Entering the period of enlightenment as the publication of all sorts of newspapers and magazines became active, literature became popularized. For example, newspapers and magazines had an open space called “reader’s columns” where readers became writers and responded to columns. It was in this period that literature in literary Chinese finally ended. However, examination of the newspapers and magazines of this period reveals that hansi works were still actively created as a main literary genre, and not as some type of marginal form. In this period, sijo as well as enlightenment kasa (kaehwa kasa) were published at a steady rate and as many as twenty to thirty

thousand hansi works were also published.

The poems and songs in the enlightenment period were mostly those which could not be created without some grounding in Chinese characters. Unique and original literary forms were created, the sort of which could not be seen in earlier times. There had been no such time in the history of Korean literature that the combination of genres and advent of transformed genres were so active.

However, what is interesting is that although the formal experimentation of genres was very active, the subject matter of the works was on the contrary too highbrow and stiff. It consistently dealt with subject matters which were extremely commonsensical and conventional such as education, awakening the people, and satires about the hopes of the new generation or some dark reality. Thus, liveliness of thought or literary properties such as being pithy and to the point that had been found in literature in Chinese characters of the prior ages could no longer be seen. The forms of Chinese character literature vanished, leaving only formatic traces in the various han’gŭl literatures of this period.