Introduction
This article will examine specific features of the Parhaego (渤海考, Reflections on Parhae, 1784), arguably the most famous work of the eminent late Chosŏn intellectual Yu Tŭkkong (1748–1807). Although the Parhaego is an authoritative work that can be credited with reintegrating the story of Parhae into national history, in recent times it has often gone ignored. No literature on the text is available in Western languages, and we still lack even an English translation of the work. The first translation into modern Korean was undertaken by Nam Mansŏng and published only in 1981 by Samsŏng Publishing. During the colonial period, it attracted relatively scarce attention despite the publication of two related works in the Republic of China: the four-volume Bohai Guozhi (渤海國志, Chronicles of the Parhae Kingdom, 1919), by Tangyan (唐晏, 1857–1920), and Bohai Guoji (渤海國記, Records of the Parhae Kingdom, 1929?), by Huang Weihan (黃維翰, 1867–1930).1 These appeared just a few years before the Manchurian Incident, on September 18, 1931, and the occupation of the three northeastern provinces. It was not until the 1970s that the Parhaego found popular appreciation in Korea, at a time when the South Korean military government began promoting a vision of national history supported by irredentist and expansionist views.2 Several other Korean translations of the book have recently been published, in response to an uptick in interest in the Parhae kingdom in the wake of the Northeast Project.3 Further, a few articles on the work have recently appeared; particularly relevant to the topic of this study are the contributions of Im Sangsŏn (2000, 2019) and Kim Chongbok (2010, 2012, 2018), who have highlighted certain details in the available editions of the book and advanced hypotheses on their possible dating.
In this article, we will consider the ways in which this text was not revolutionary4 or iconoclastic,5 as it reflects a common late Chosŏn perception of Parhae stemming from a progressive reshaping of historiography that gradually reintroduced the kingdom into the narrative of Korean history. In any case his attitude cannot even be considered conformist as the author gives his own personal opinion, especially when he has doubts about the sources he uses. For example, he rectified the name attributed to Amnokpu from “Chosŏn Street” (朝鮮) to “Tribute Street” (朝貢道) by referring to the information he found in Xin Tangshu’s Records of Parhae. Although erroneously, since the Liaoshi refers to the Peishui River (浿水) using the name “Nihe” (泥河), Yu associates it with the Taedong River and considers it the border between Silla and Parhae6.
After some preliminary remarks in the first section, we will examine and contextualize the changing construction of Parhae in the main Chosŏn historical works, focusing chiefly on those produced at the turn of the eighteenth century. In the third section, we will analyze some specifics of the different versions of the work, which has been significantly reworked over time. We will therefore ask ourselves if these modifications were carried out independently, i.e. by the author himself, whether the author was exposed to direct or indirect criticism or some form of censorship, or whether these corrections were partially or entirely influenced by reviewers of the book. At the current state of research, this is only a hypothesis that will need to be deepened through further, more in-depth studies that take into consideration the development of editorial world of that time and a more accurate analysis of the manuscripts of the work. In this article, we will frame the book’s origin in the context of the historical period in which it was produced, specifically during the mandate of King Chŏngjo (1752–1800), who had a crucial role in the life of Yu Tŭkkong. While considering some characteristics of the premodern publishing world, in this article we will refer to some of Carnevale’s (2022) arguments on premodern authorship and censorship.
Some preliminary remarks on the Parhaego
The Parhaego may be considered an unusual and unprecedented attempt to retrace the history of Parhae 858 years after its fall, and to reintegrate it into the historical narrative of Chosŏn, as the lack of even a single book fully dedicated to the kingdom and the absence of specific treatment in previous historical works (such as the Samguk Sagi and Samguk Yusa) had made it impossible to legitimize Korean sovereignty over its territory and its culture.
“One could say that Parhae was defeated by the Liao, so we can’t claim the right to write its history. But this is not correct. As much as Parhae emulated China, it would have had official historians [in its court]. When [its last capital] Holgansŏng fell, the crown prince fled to Koryŏ with more than one hundred thousand people. So assuming there were no official historians [among them], surely they [at least] had his books. Assuming there was no official historian among them, and they didn’t have his books, the Koryŏ people could have asked the crown prince, who surely knew about the lineage of the Parhae dynasty. They also could have asked Ŭn Kyejong, who knew about the protocols of Parhae. Ultimately, they could ask those hundred thousand people; how could it be that no one was aware of it? Even Zhang Jian Zhang, who was a man of the Tang, could write his Bohai Guoji (渤海國記, Records of the Parhae Kingdom); how could it be possible that only the Koryŏ people were unable to write their own history of Parhae?” (from the preface by Yu Tŭkkong)
A great hindrance to the reconstruction of Parhae’s history, probably the most obvious one, was the scarcity of available sources. As we know, the only accounts dedicated entirely to Parhae were that of Zeng Yan, namely the ten-volume Records of a Year Spent Traveling in Parhae, and of Zhang Jian Zhang (806–866), written after his official journey to the kingdom. However, of the three volumes of his Bohai Guoji (渤海國記, Records of the Parhae Kingdom), none has remained, and only some parts have been quoted in the Xin Tangshu (新唐書, New Book of Tang)’s “Chronicles of Parhae.” What is exceptional about Yu’s anachronistic attempt was his capacity to collect almost all the existing testimony on Parhae, be it Chinese, Japanese, or local, taking advantage of his three trips to China, his position in the royal library, his friendship with influential scholars of the time, and the cultural ferment and dynamic international book market under King Chŏngjo. The entire bibliography that he has consulted is reported at the beginning of the original version of the text, as if he wanted to ensure greater authority for his work in this way.
Methodologically speaking, the author was influenced by the kaozheng (or “evidential”) school of Qing scholarship7 so that he didn’t succumb to the error of forging any historical facts, risking creating a pseudo-historical book.8 Thus, in his Parhaego, he quotes not only Chinese sources (like the Jiu Tangshu (舊唐書, Old Book of Tang), Wudaishi (五代史, Old History of the Five Dynasties), Songshi (宋史 History of Song), and geographical sources such as the Daming Yitongzhi (大明一統志, Records of the Unity of the Great Ming) and Daqing Yitongzhi (大清一統志, Records of the Unity of the Great Qing), but also Japanese ones, such as Shoku Nihongi (続日本紀, 797) and the Nihon Isshi (日本逸史, 1724).9 Some of these sources were almost contemporary (for example, Daqing Yitongzhi, from 1743, and Nihon Isshi, from 1724), which further attests to the dynamic international book trade of the time. As Kim Chongbok has already pointed out, Yu’s introduction of new sources allowed for a deeper and more accurate understanding of the history of Parhae. For example, the Tongsa Kangmok (東史綱目, Compendium of the Eastern History) reports only that King Mun was nominated king of Parhae in 762, but does not specify the exact year of his ascension to the throne, probably as it was not reported in the Xin Tangshu. Instead, as Yu was additionally able to consult the “Biography of Parhae and Malgal” in the Jiu Tangshu, he could be more precise, thus adding the detail that the king was officially invested in 738.10 Moreover, quoting the Liaoshi (遼史, History of Liao), Songshi and Old History of the Five Dynasties, he provides further details about the fall of Parhae and the local people’s attempts to reconstruct the kingdom after its defeat. Furthermore, adducing information from Japanese sources, he was able to include more details on Parhae’s missions to Japan. The author himself is keen to demonstrate that he has used authoritative sources for the realization of his work, presenting the bibliographic references at the beginning of his study. His approach is outlined in his foreword to the Haedong Yŏksa (海東繹史, Compendium of Korean chronicles).
“People normally criticize the Samguk Sagi, written by Kim Pusik, as too superficial and not worthy of reading, but at that time there was no material available, so Kim Pusik had no room for other solutions. So we have only the Koryŏsa, written by Chŏng Inji, but for history before the Koryŏ period, what can we refer to? That is why I soon tried to collect all the records on Eastern barbarians in the twenty-one Chinese histories, and examined them, eliminating those passages that occurred more than once and adding notes.” (from the preface of the Haedong Yŏksa)
Despite these methodological premises, the author committed some gross mistakes that had to be corrected in revised editions of the book. Furthermore, as Kim Chongbok has already pointed out, the usage of some Chinese sources seems to have been subjective and partial. For example, while Chinese sources report that the Malgal people were a separate group (別種) of Koguryŏ, Yu Tŭkkong arbitrarily states that the Sumo Mohe (Kor. Songmal Malgal) were rather their vassals (臣下). Thus Yu deliberately tried to substitute a character from Chinese sources, as in the original source, the Old Book of Tang, the character “sin” (臣) originally referred only to the Jurchen.11 He also tried to avoid the derogatory expressions found in Chinese sources to uphold the dignity of Parhae history.12
Far from being a perfect or complete work–to the extent that probably the author himself had to revise it several times–the Parhaego is a work of great historical value that also inspired historians of later periods, as it restores the dignity of a kingdom that was increasingly neglected after the Qidan conquest of 926. Thus it soon became a reference for later works, such as Chŏng Yagyong’s Abang Kangyŏkko (我邦疆域考, Historical Geography of Korea) and Han Ch’iyun’s Haedong yŏksa, for which Yu Tŭkkong even wrote a preface. These works could eventually take advantage of even more sources, especially foreign ones.13 By redeeming the history of the kingdom, Yu Tŭkkong was also able to lend more credibility to the dual lineage North–South theory of Korean history, a concept that began gaining acceptance after the sixteenth century and that he explicitly refers to in his preface to the book.14 Yu Tŭkkong’s dual lineage North–South theory of Korean history was the result of the convergence of two perceptions of national history, one southern-centered, the other northern-centered. The author seems to attribute much greater authority to that of the North, to the point that in the section Pongsŏng (鳳城) of his Yŏrha kihaeng siju (熱河紀行詩註, Poetry and Notes on My Trip to Yŏrha), he explicitly criticizes Silla’s reign in the following terms:
“Silla was a decadent country. Sŏnggol and Chinggol were married to their brothers and married to their sisters, and I cannot tell you the ugliness of it. They were close and familiar with the Japanese, and they were contaminated by their culture. Even in its heyday, their territory did not go beyond Tŏkwŏn to the north or Taedong River to the west, so they did not know that there was a wide plain in the Liaodong. The foundation of our country was only Koguryŏ, which destroyed Okjŏ and subjugated Puyŏ, subjugated the various tribes of Malgal as vassals, sat on the Yalu River, and relied on the regions of Jin and Liao. When the Chinese came and were enraged, he led the soldiers of Malgal to attack them and called them Mogangjiguk. When the Ko family was destroyed, and the Tae family succeeded them on the throne, they rose to power and restored their territory, called their country Parhae, and established five capitals and fifteen administrations.”15
In the next section, we will offer a more in-depth analysis of the changing attitudes toward the history of Parhae during the Chosŏn period and its progressive reintegration into the narrative of local historiography.
Changing attitudes in Korean historiography before the Parhaego
Yu Tŭkkong’s project of compiling an entire book dedicated to Parhae was neither abrupt, nor revolutionary or iconoclastic, but rather the product of a milieu–beginning from at least the late sixteenth century, a transitional period in Chosŏn and Northeast Asian history–that increasingly called for the reevaluation of Parhae’s history. The author was highly influenced by previous historical works, and took his cue from the new historiographical trends of the time. Thus it was not an isolated attempt to reposition Parhae within the boundaries of legitimate Chosŏn history, but rather the result of a progressive remodeling of the local historical narrative, to which different scholars of different generations would contribute. At the beginning of the Chosŏn period, the “academic” trend was to disregard Koguryŏ as well, if only because it did not comply formally with Chinese rule, and the same fate befell the kingdom of Parhae. In his Tongguk Saryak (東國史略, Concise History of the Eastern Kingdom), Kwŏn Kŭn (1352–1409) points out that Koguryŏ was conquered and destroyed because it was “not afraid of the heavens, unable to serve a great country, and arrogant to China.”16 As Hŏ T’aeyong points out, at that time, scholars felt the ideological urge to enhance the historical legitimacy of the new dynasty, emphasizing the heroic deeds of the new ruler while underscoring how Yi Sŏnggye had fully recovered the territory of preceding dynasties.17 Acknowledging any lost territory (that of ancient Chosŏn, Koguryŏ, or Parhae) was not allowed, since it could potentially undermine the historical legitimacy of Chosŏn. In this process, there was no room to integrate Parhae into national history, as its political epicenter was outside the physical territories of the new dynasty. For example, in the Sinjŭng Tongguk yŏji sŭngnam (新增東國輿地勝覽, Revised and expanded edition of Survey of the Geography of Chosŏn) we read:
“As I believe, after Kija enlightened our country, Chosŏn became a nation. […] When our great ancestor [Yi Sŏnggye] arose and restored the mighty land of old, the far reaches of the east, west, and north became our territory again.”18
However, simply by reading the Samguk Sagi or Daming Yitongzhi at that time, anyone could learn that the territory of Koguryŏ extended to the Liaodong River: this basic geographical information had already been available since the beginning of the Chosŏn dynasty, but it likely could be accepted only with time.19 From at least the end of the sixteenth century, the geopolitical context had greatly changed, and the new order was no longer compatible with the obsolete Zhonghua narrative established at the beginning of the dynasty: this made it necessary for local scholars to reconceptualize the role of their country according to the new international context. The same process was simultaneously ongoing in Japan, which was reacting to the collapse of the Ming, formulating a new notion of Zhonghua that was based on its own independent culture and did not include China.20 In Chosŏn sirhak scholars were primary interested in geography, national boundaries, and territory; however, their research progressively afforded them new opportunities to reconsider first the history of Koguryŏ and then that of Parhae as a whole.21 Koguryŏ military bravery had already been emphasized during the Japanese and Manchu invasions, proof of a local resilience and spirit that would later be evoked by Song Siyŏl (1607–1689) and Yun Hyu (1617–1680).22 In his Chronicles of the Four Kun (四郡志, Sagunji), Yu Tŭkkong also praised the heroes of Chosŏn history who contributed to fending off foreign invasions, among them Ŭlchi Mundŏk.
The Manchu invasions in particular, with their long-term consequences and the installation of the Border Stele (Paektusan Chŏnggyebi) in 1712, seemed to arouse much greater interest in the Northern Territories of Northeast Asia, calling into question the Korean borders as they had been defined at the beginning of the new dynasty. The weakness of the kingdom during this period was ascribed to the reduction of its territory, which had once belonged to Koguryŏ and Parhae. Such a notion can also be found in Yu’s preface, where he claims that, because of the lack of a book on the history of Parhae, Koryŏ became a progressively weaker country (高麗遂弱國者).23
Yu Mongin (1559–1623) and Hŏ Kyun firmly advocated strengthening the defense of the northern region, expanding armaments, and reforming the military system; these academic tendencies were shared among the Northerners, the school to which Yu Tŭkkong belonged. The idea of reconquering the “old territory” (kot’o) is explicitly voiced in a work that predates the Parhaego by a few years. In his P’ungch’ŏn Yuhyang (風泉遺響, 1778), Song Kyubin (1696-?) a military advisor of Yŏngjo during the wars against the Manchus, proposes severing relations with the barbarians and adopting a strong military policy toward the recovery of Chosŏn’s lost territory. After reviewing Na Man’gap’s Pyŏngjarok (“Diary of 1636”), Song Kyubin become quite sympathetic to the intransigent Ch’ŏkhwa theorists, who pointed out the military shortcomings of the Qing army. His argument went one step further, as he found it more appealing, rather than having a defensive policy toward the Qing, to adopt an “active” one (pukbŏl).24
“We should take advantage of this opportunity to recover our borders. We should select 30,000 elite soldiers and 600 weaponed chariots, prepare many new firearms and weapons, and then, under the pretext of saving the Qing Empire, rush to the fortress of Anshi, first seizing the fortified sites with good terrain, and dispatch the army in two squads, one to block the mouths of the fortified sites and be prepared for emergencies, and the other to occupy the passes in Ch’ŏngsŏngnyŏng Hoeryŏng and other key points in the Kesuch’am Sinyongdong.”25
With the rise of the Qing dynasty and growing interest in the Northern Territories in the second half of the eighteenth century, the military value of the Liaodong, as an ancient land to reconquer, was newly evaluated.26 Despite pressure to accept the new international order and the emergence of a more enterprising attitude toward the Qing, anti-Qing sentiment was still deeply rooted. This attitude may be seen, for example, in the royal edict of King Yŏngjo known as the Ŏjep’ungch’ŏllok (御製風泉錄, 1771), a ruler’s ode to the kings of the Ming dynasty. According to Song Kiho (1997), soon after the shock of the Imjin war, the perception of Parhae shifted gradually from that of a “neighboring country” to that of “Koguryŏ’s successor,” and thus the kingdom was progressively integrated into the flow of Korean historiography. An earlier contribution to this new trend may be seen in Han Paekkyŏm’s (1552–1615) Tongguk chiriji (東國地理誌, Treatise on Geography of Chosŏn), written in 1615. Avoiding the traditional, exclusively Silla-centric tendency (Silla chŏngt’ongnon) displayed by the Tongguk t’onggam (1484),27 he cautiously tried to include the northern kingdoms into the stream of Korean history. Influenced by the framework of a dual lineage of Korean history (North and South), Han proposed a new hypothesis on the location of Samhan area, with three Chosŏn in the North and three Han in the South.28 Han also reprimanded Silla, which was not able to recover the territory of Koguryŏ after its fall, and urged Chosŏn to accomplish this mission. In addition, he considered Parhae people to be ethnically comprised of Koguryŏ exiles.
This new trend is also illustrated by other history books, such as the Tongsa (東事, Facts about Korea, 1667). Here, author Hŏ Mok considers Parhae to belong to the lineage of Koguryŏ, even if he claims in the preface that the Malgal people had become strong enough to call their kingdom “Parhae.” The position of An Chŏngbok, on the other hand, contradicts this; in his Tongsa Kangmok, he explicitly writes that Parhae did not belong to Korean history, yet in the same work, he claims that Parhae arose from the ancient territory of Koguryŏ. The first historian to fully clarify that Parhae was a kingdom belonging to the Korean historical tradition was Yi Chonghwi (1731–1797) in the late eighteenth century. Though the book (Tongsa 東史, History of Korea) was never completed, its author claims that Parhae inherited the territory of Koguryŏ and that its founder was of Koguryŏ descent. About its territory, he wrote that Parhae not only inherited the territory of Koguryŏ, but also expanded it, restoring it to its original borders in the period of Tang’un and Kija. Yi Chonghwi writes that Chosŏn reached its largest territorial extent under Parhae, but that it later shrunk, after its fall and thus under Koryŏ. Redeeming the history of Parhae was thus not a novelty in late Chosŏn, but by the time of Yu Tŭkkong, it was already a well-consolidated trend. We find the same contradictory attitude in his Parhaego: in fact, though he admits that King Ko Choyŏng was the son of the lord of Chinguk, who was a Songmal Malgal, he emphasizes that he was a brave general of Koguryŏ.
“The name of King Ko is Choyŏng, and he is the son of the lord of Chinguk. He was a general of Koguryŏ; he was brave and good at riding horses and shooting arrows. When the lord of Chinguk passed away and Kŏlsa Piu also died after his defeat, Choyŏng fled. Yi Haego (Li Kai Gu) chased him without giving up, and when he crossed the pass of the Door of Heaven, Choyŏng led the soldiers of Koguryŏ and Malgal and completely defeated the enemies, so that Kai Gu himself could barely escape.
“Choyŏng immediately incorporated Piu’s troops [into his force], then stationed them near Mt. Tongmo, in the area of Umnu. All the people who were previously part of Malgal and Koguryŏ were summoned there. Consequently, [Choyŏng] sent an envoy to negotiate with the Göktürk (Tolgwol, Tujue), and conquered over ten countries north of the sea: among them Puyŏ, Okjŏ, Chosŏn, and Pyŏnhan. Thus, his territory reached the sea in the east, and bordered Qitan in the north, Silla in the south: its boundary was the river Iha. Thus its territory had an extent of 5,000 li; its population exceeded one hundred thousand households, [while] its army counted several tens of thousands of soldiers. They studied Chinese books, but their tradition was roughly like those of Koguryŏ and Qidan. During the Sŏngnyŏng Era (698–700, 聖曆), [Choyŏng] called his kingdom ‘Chin’ and his dynasty the ‘Chin dynasty.’ He came to power as a Chin king. When Emperor Zhongzong of Tang ascended the throne, he dispatched the palace censor Zhang Xing Ji to make peace; further, King [Ko] sent his son to the [Tang] court to serve the emperor. In the first year of the Kaiyuan era of Emperor Xianzong (r. 805–820), the emperor sent the commander of the palace guards, Cui Su, and assigned to King Ko the title of great commander of the left cavalry guard and lord king of Parhae (渤海郡王); further, as he occupied the Holhan region, he allowed him the additional title of local governor of the Horhan region. Moreover, Tang no longer called that land Malgal, but started calling it exclusively ‘Parhae.’” (from Parhaego, King Ko)
Geneaology and authorship of the Parhaego
The best-known version of the Parhaego is the printed version published in 1911 and edited by the Association for the Publication of Chosŏn Ancient Books (Chosŏn kosŏ kanhaenghoe). However, it presents some discrepancies with respect to the original manuscript version preserved at the National Central Library, so perhaps it was based on a version no longer in our possession. This edition also contains two prefaces, one written by the author himself and one by Pak Chega in the autumn of 1785, oddly one year after its publication; the work consists of one volume, and is divided into nine sections, each of which has the character ko (translatable as “reflections,” “thoughts,” “investigations”) in its name, as in the title of the work. However, after its release in 1784, the author probably noticed the lack of some important sources as well as some mistakes in the geographical analysis, upon which – perhaps in 1790 and 1795 – he carefully fixed these problems and intervened significantly in the text. Anyway Yu himself was aware of the limits of his work, which he didn’t even dare call a “history book”; this is why he merely called his book ko (“reflections”). Only in the Collection of the Three Han (Samhan ch’ongsŏ) was his work titled differently, namely as Parhae Kukji (渤海國志, Chronicles of the Parhae Kingdom)29: this is the same title chosen by a later Chinese historian, Tang An, who however followed the same order and structure as the Xin Tangshu (records, chronicles, chronological tables, biographies).30 This was likely possible because, thanks to Yu himself, by that time the historiographical tradition of Parhae was already more secure.
It is generally accepted that both the original edition and the revised version of the Parhaego were written by Yu Tŭkkong, nor is there reason to doubt this. For example, in the inner margins of the four-volume version (National Library, kwikojo 90-4), we find his personal mark (Koun Sŏok, 古芸書屋), suggesting that it was he himself who worked on the manuscript. Further, as noted above, the original version in nine sections has a preface written by him. Yu Tŭkkong, however, was not a private scholar, but rather an official one who worked expressly for the king, being commissioned by him. He was one of the few of his time to enjoy the privilege of consulting “prohibited books” (秘書).31 As we know exactly the list of the books he read–as he left a list of bibliographic references in the original edition–we may deduce that some of these “prohibited books” consisted of the local or imported historical and geographical volumes available at that time. We do not know much about the strict meaning of this expression, but similarly as in Europe–and in the Qing Empire32 –an index of prohibited books was released, not unlike the Instructio circa indicem librorum prohibitorum (1559), published by the Roman Catholic Church to control unregulated book circulation. Similarly in Spain in 1627 a decree was issued obliging booksellers to report all books that were prohibited and in need of redemption, as well as instructing the district court to issue edicts to booksellers33.
Especially after the Imjin War and the Pyŏngja Horan, the Chosŏn Dynasty tried to further consolidate the Confucian order to rebuild the nation. A lack of private bookstores in the Chosŏn Dynasty until the advent of modern bookstores in the late nineteenth century clearly suggests that knowledge was monopolized by upper-class interests34. As a result, those who rebelled against the Confucian system of thought or who expressed ideas that differed from the established ideology were treated as anti-national figures and foes of Confucianism (斯文亂賊). Thus, the writings of Hŏ Kyun, Chŏng Inhong, Pak Sedang, and others were not allowed to circulate and were burned. Already, during King Yŏngjo’s reign (1694–1776), the Mingji Jilue (明紀輯略 [Abbreviation of Ming Annals]) was banned because it was considered a disturbing book that undermined the authority and values of the Chosŏn royal family. Yi Hich’ŏn and Pae Kyŏngdo were sentenced to beheading for importing prohibited books, and their wives and children were sold as government slaves35.
Soon after his ascension to the throne, King Chŏngjo immediately sent envoys to the Qing Empire to purchase books from the capital markets, and in fact most of the surviving Chinese books preserved in Korea were imported during his mandate.36 However, despite his apparent openness and his love for books, he was a man who wanted his particular world to function perfectly according to the most conservative orthodoxy of neo-Confucianism, and he thoroughly suppressed any ideas that deviated even slightly from the ruling ideology.37 Chŏngjo wanted to control the Western scientific and religious books that came into China in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, many of which were held in Hongmungwan. At least forty-seven books, mostly related to Christian doctrine, were destroyed, and among these was Dizui zhenggui (滌罪正規 [Correct Rules for the Elimination of Sins]) by Italian Giulio Aleni. As early as 1787, Chŏngjo discovered Kim Chosun and Yi Sanghwang reading unorthodox books. The king ordered them to be taken away and burned those books (Chŏngjo sillok, Chŏngjo, year 16, month 10, 2438). Moreover, in 1785, just one year after the publication of the Parhaego, a similar incident occurred (Ch’ujo chŏkpal sakkŏn, 秋曹摘發事件) when Yi Sŭnghun and Chŏng Yagyong were caught discussing Catholic doctrine and performing rituals in the house of Kim Bŏmu. The king believed that the incident was caused by books imported from Qing Empire, and so in 1786 and 1787, he banned imported Chinese books. It is obviously that the Parhaego was not a book about Christianity or Western culture, but considering these events, we may assume that at the time it was compiled, control over books was very strict.
During his regnal years, King Chŏngjo was the protagonist of a sort of inquisition over heretical literal styles known as the “restoration of literary style” (文體反正). Though he targeted only the “style” of some authors, trying to correct their stylistic errors and lead them back to the world of correct scholarship, the real purpose of his ban was probably to weed out heretical ideas that contradicted the official theology. At that time, Ming and Qing texts, Western studies, Catholicism, novels, etc. directly or indirectly tried to dismantle the truth as monopolized by neo-Confucianism39. Likely also in Korea, the problem of containing the uncontrolled diffusion of knowledge well beyond its traditional borders arose and transformed that initial enthusiasm for books into a source of concern. Chŏngjo relentlessly demanded that scholars submit papers reflecting on the degradation of linguistic style, and through this, they were encouraged to use the prescribed stylistic techniques and to write in a properly orthodox fashion. It is interesting to note here that, along with other members of the Northern school, even Pak Chega, the author of the preface of the Parhaego, had to write a “a letter of repentance” for his “wrong” style. Yet no one targeted by this “style inquisition” received anything that could be called a real punishment: only the scholar Yi Ok (1760–1813) was forced to stop preparing for the official exams and sent into exile in Namyang. These events, however, allow us to understand the climate of control and pressure over scholars of that time.
It may be helpful to consider what happened to another important work, Yŏrha Ilgi (熱河日記 [The Jehol Diary]), which was written by Pak Chiwŏn in 1780, four years before Parhaego. Even if it was appreciated by some scholars at the time, it was highly criticized for its style and content by other more conservative ones. Although this work was not directly censored, King Chŏngjo invited the author to revise its “style.” Kim Hyŏljo referred to this case as “a social censorship not visible to the eye,” triggered by slander and criticism by other Confucian scholars. This work enjoyed considerable success, so it was exposed to the intellectuals’ criticism more than other books. Parhaego was a niche work by comparison, but it dealt with extremely sensitive issues and carried important political significance. It is worth considering how, even if “stylistic,” the corrections made to the original Yŏrha Ilgi text concerned not only stylistic aspects but also social and political ones. In fact, in addition to lexical choices being remodulated, the new versions corrected terms that referred to the Ming, Qing, Christianity, Western culture, and references to the Yangban family to which the author belonged. In analyzing the work’s corrections, Kim Hyŏljo concluded that only a part of these were intentionally made by the author himself; many others were made regardless of the author’s will40.
Upon his ascension to the throne, King Chŏngjo installed the royal library, around which he gathered his fellows to give lectures: he designed his own lecture program and assigned his subjects to present and discuss their work. According to Kang Myŏnggwan, even if that may have been a strategy to encourage learning, he was probably able to recognize through these lectures that heresy was germinating among Chosŏn intellectuals. Naturally, the result was the suppression of ideas and of the building of alternatives.41 At the royal library, since he was thirty-two years old, Yu Tŭkkong himself undertook the position of library inspector (kŏmsŏgwan), literally an officer in charge of “controlling books.” Unlike him, other authors probably had more autonomy in their writing experience. For example, Na Man’gap had much more freedom to explore events without fear of political retribution, and could thereby offer an alternative view with respect to the official sources.42 But Yu’s work was fully dedicated to Parhae and held a high political meaning at a period in which the idea of a reconquest of the North was again being advanced by various intellectuals. Evidence of interpolation or intervention in his work is discernible from the fact that the manuscript of the “five-chapter version” contained in the Yŏngjae sŏjong and preserved at the National Central Library (ko 2824-19) is written in three different hands; moreover, the marginal notes seem to be written in further hands.43 Another interesting fact is that we find three additional notes by Yi Konch’o in the FXVIB10 version (once belonging to Ryū Imanishi and preserved at the Kyoto University Library)44. It is not easy to reconstruct all the editorial phases of this text with precision, but these elements may leave room for the hypothesis that in the text editing phase, other authors somehow intervened in the text, either according to or notwithstanding the author’s wishes. We cannot exclude the possibility of other contemporary scholars having interfered in the work, such as Pak Chiwŏn, Yi Tŏngmu, and Pak Chega, whom the author became acquainted with after his twenties. It is interesting here to recall that Sŏng Haeŭng, Yu’s son-in-law, co-wrote the Sagunji with him,45 and Yu collaborated actively with Yi Tŏngmu and Sŏng Haeŭng on the Yŏrha kihaeng siju (熱河紀行詩註).
In support of this hypothesis, we might also consider the fact that his work has generally not been published as an independent monograph, but rather as a volume in edited collections (in one of which the title itself has been altered, probably by the compiler). The first version of the Parhaego is linked with the Collection of the Three Han, which Pak Chega was working on around 1785, while the revised version by the Folk Museum of Korea became part of the collection titled Sohwa Ch’ongsŏ (小華叢書, Little China) edited by Yi Kyugyŏng in 1815, thus eight years after the death of the original author.46
“During the year Ŭrhae (1815), I have been editing the Sohwa Ch’ongsŏ with other esteemed colleagues, and I intend to put this in the history category. That is why I am writing this preface, so as to add it to this work.” (from the preface by Yi Kyugyŏng)
The version of the book under the call number Minsok 024323 in Yi Kyugyŏng’s collection has a different order and structure than the original one (proceeding from Kungo, Singo, Chirigo, Chikkwango, and Yemungo to Sega, Chiri, Chikkwan, and Kuksŏ).47 The new structure was probably elaborated by Yi Kyugyŏng himself. The very presence of a preface by other scholars aims to legitimize the quality of the work, as if it were a text that had already passed the scrutiny of an authoritative body.
“This is not simply a book on a kingdom, but an excellent work comparable to those written by Hu Hui (胡恢) and Ma Ling. That is why I have written a preface for it.” (Preface by Pak Chega)
Interestingly, in the revised version, we find some mistakes that also we can find in other works of that time. For example, “Mahyosin” (馬孝慎) instead of “Ohyosin” (烏孝慎) is a recurring error that is also found in Haedong Yŏksa. In some cases, the corrections seem to be inspired by works published after the first edition of Parhaego; for example, some passages seem to be quoted from Tongsa Kangmok (1778). It is not clear when, but at a certain point, the author–or perhaps someone else–probably felt the need to revise his work. In fact, the additions and corrections are so extensive that we may consider the new version not merely a re-edited work, but a full rewriting, as its contents increased by 35%, expanding from forty-six pages to sixty-five.48 So even if scholars generally refer to the new version of the Parhaego as a ‘corrected’, ‘revised’ one (sujŏngbon), we may consider it an independent work. The first edition of the Parhaego slavishly replicates some erroneous information about the location of the Daqing Yitongzhi, which in turn reports incorrect details from the geographical treatise known as the Liaoshi. Thus, Yu Tŭkkong probably felt the need to intervene in the text, which may have happened after one of his trips to China. In 1790, when the emperor Qianglong turned 80, along with Pak Chega, Yu participated in the delegation to Beijing (Yanjing) for the first time. Details of this trip were reported in his diary, Nanyangnok. His travels may have given him further impetus to revise the geographical matter in his book by allowing him to gather more geographical details, thereby leading him to reflect on the contents of his work. So apparently, even after the 1800s, he continued his editing efforts and had to add or remove different details, integrating sources and including drawings and tables on the five capitals. However, revising and correcting texts was a fairly common practice at that time, especially amid the intensifying control over the style and content of books during the reign of King Chŏngjo.
Though we do not have a complete list of bibliographic references for the second revised edition, we can assert that Yu Tŭkkong was able to consult more sources. For example, in the section called Yemungo in the second edition, it is reported that the Imperial Edict of Xuan Zong (685–762), of the Tang Dynasty, was written to King Mu of Parhae in 732. The original version of the Edict is reported in the Wenyuan Yinghua49 (the poetry anthology “Finest Blossoms in the Garden of Literature,” 986).
What I find interesting is that we lack a preface by Yu Tŭkkong in the second edition; he could have used this to justify why he wanted to re-edit his book or to illustrate the reasons that led him to revise the work. Only in a much later preface by Sŏng Haeŭng do we find this information.
“Jia Dan’s military maps are brief and incomplete, the Liaoshi is full of errors, and even if the Jinshi (History of Jin) by Toqto’a (Tuotuo) is detailed, it cannot be proved because the names of mountains and rivers are obscure. Hyebo (Yu Tŭkkong) has always been well versed in geography, and what he proves and analyzes is all correct: for example, he placed the district of Namhae in the Hamhŭng and that of Ch’aeksŏng in Kyŏngsŏng. However, he states that the district of Amnok is on the north side of the Amnok River, 200 li northeast of Kanggye, but when I examined Sinju, Hwanju, etc. under its jurisdiction, I realized that it was on the south side of the Amnok River, not on the north side.” (from the preface of Sŏng Haeŭng)
This preface belongs to the Complete Collection of Yŏn Kyŏngjae (硏經齋全集), compiled by Sŏng Haeŭng (1760–1839)50 and probably published in 1840 (one year after the author’s death and thirty-three years after Yu’s). It is not easy to establish with certainty who primarily intervened in the text; it is likely that the author himself contributed significantly to expanding the original scope of his work at first, but in light of all this, we cannot rule out the possibility that other scholars, compilers, or censors also intervened significantly, erasing useless or pleonastic expressions, correcting others, moving elements within the text, or adding new parts, forcing the author to accept this. Kim Chongbok distinguishes four different editions of the book: the first, original manuscript (ch’ogobon), and three slightly different edited versions.51 Among these he considers the manuscript conserved in the National Library of Korea as one handwritten directly by the author, while the Huullok and the one conserved in the Library of the Kyung Hee University the final edited version.
On the other hand, Im Sangsŏn lists at least five editorial stages in the process of compiling the Parhaego. In his view, the first edition is the one with nine sections and a preface by Pak Chega. After some time, the author worked on a second revised edition, divided into five chapters. A third one, namely the one preserved at the National Library, consists of a copy of the revised edition, but with further corrections proposed. The fourth one is effectively the version with a new round of corrections applied to the text and published after the death of the author. The fifth is the one with the preface by Sŏng Haeŭng.52 We currently have seven different manuscripts of the revised version: among them, one is preserved in Japan and belonged to the private collection of Ryū Imanishi, as we find his personal stamp on it. Four of them bear names (three that of Yŏngjae Sŏjong, one that of Huullok) and belong to a collection of all the author’s works, while the remaining three are single monographs. Interestingly, the manuscript preserved at Konkuk University is a pre-revised one, though the manuscript dates from 1813. It is a bit unusual as the revised version was already available by that time. Another interesting version is the one hand-copied directly by Sim Ŭip’yŏng (1836–1919), a famous collector at the end of the Chosŏn period. it is interesting to note that none of the editions after the first one has an additional preface by the author justifying why he wanted to revise his work on several occasions.
Kim Chongbok has carefully analyzed the differences between the original version of the work and its revised ones and found out four main kinds of corrections53.
Small lexical and stylistic corrections, which do not significantly alter the content.
Elimination of ‘unnecessary’ parts.
Shifts in the placement of the sentence within the text.
Additions of content not included in the first version.
Some of these corrections correspond to an editing work for improving the quality of the text. During the editing phase, some slight details were added to the text. For example, in the first manuscript we find the expression “the king send an envoy to Japan,” while in the revised version the character si (始) is added, emphasizing the fact that it was the first time that this had ever happened. Some mistakes in the previous version were amended during the revision: for example, the character chesa (制史) was corrected to chasa (刺史); pujŏng (副正) was corrected to puwang (副王).54
However, like in the Yŏrha Ilgi some corrections may not be limited to being purely stylistic but may be attributed to more complex logic. The passages relating to Parhae’s missions to the Chinese court after the death of one of its sovereigns were eliminated, perhaps in an attempt to minimize Parhae’s link to the Chinese court and to focus more on local affairs: similarly the expression “Tang court” was changed to a more vague “entering the court” (入朝). It is also noteworthy that the Singo (Reflections on the Vassals) of the revised version includes information on Parhae refugees who sought protection in the Kingdom of Koryŏ. This may have been intended to emphasize that Parhae, which was the legitimate successor of Koguryŏ, was in turn linked to the destiny of the Koryŏ kingdom. Some expressions–like “pirates” (海賊) related to Japan–probably considered inadequate or politically incorrect were erased.
Other main changes deal with the structure of the book itself. For example, the order of the contents of the Kungo (Reflections on the Army) has been modified. In the Singo, thirty-two people have been added (from 83 to 115), and another six have been moved to other sections. The most extensively modified part is the Chirigo (Reflections on Geography). Two chapters (Chikkwango and Ŭijango) have been incorporated into a single one, while Mulsango and Kugŏgo have been deleted.
It was not atypical to correct or revise books during the Chosŏn period, and it also happened that scholars would intervene in the books of others. For example, the Haedong Yŏksa (1823) was written in eighty-five volumes and six books, but seventy of these were compiled by the historian Han Ch’iyun (1765–1814), and another fifteen posthumously by his nephew Han Chinsŏ (1777-?).55 Yi Chonghwi’s work was also published posthumously. However, even though it was quite common to have different versions of books in the Chosŏn period, it is quite unusual to have such a revised and expanded version as in this case. Returning to Na Man’gap’s Manchu war diary, a text evidently less subject to control or censorship, it is interesting to note that the available versions present only minimal discrepancies. Today, two copies of The Diary of 1636 dating to the Chosŏn dynasty exist: one is housed at the National Library of Korea, and the other resides in the Changsŏgak Royal Archives at the Academy of Korean Studies. The texts are similar in content and have only few stylistic differences.56 Book censorship in Chosŏn Korea seems not to be a prominent topic of research, but it is interesting to compare the phenomenon of European censorship, which is better documented. Between the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, censors intervened, sometimes heavily, in printed books, mutilating their form and transfiguring their meaning. The censor, however, was only one of the many actors in the book universe–together with printers, translators, glossators, plagiarists, re-writers, and, of course, the authors themselves, ready to alter the content of a text by adapting its message to the “spirit of the times.”57 So in the absence of a law that protected intellectual property, the printed book enjoyed a much less stable and more fragile status than we are used to attributing to it. According to Yi also in Chosŏn, there was no concept of copyright at the time, and private print publishing did not flourish early on58. The printed book, devoid of any legal protections, could be republished in a new version at any moment, whether slightly modified or heavily altered from the previous version. In other words, for a long time, both print and manuscript culture shared the awareness that disseminating a text almost necessarily involved textual modifications and corruptions.
Final remarks
In this article, we have examined some aspects of the editing of the Parhaego. First of all, we have tried to contextualize the work within the panorama of late Chosŏn historiography. In this sense, we have remarked that the work is part of a gradual reshaping of the story of Parhae, rearticulated within the narrative of Chosŏn history. This reconstruction, which has already been attempted in other studies, was also important to understand that the author’s attitude is not one of rebellion or nonconformity, but rather one of adaptation to the historiographical trends of his time. Furthermore, the author was not a private scholar, but rather an official one who worked expressly for the king, being commissioned by him. Thus Yu Tŭkkong’s major contribution was not to revolutionize the historical narrative of Korea nor the perception of the Parhae kingdom, but rather to collect all the sources then available for reconstructing the history of the kingdom, enjoying his privileged position within the royal library. In considering this, we have observed that despite the apparent liberalism of the Chŏnjo reign, publishing and scholarship were actually under strict surveillance. During this period, the king imposed a ban on the import of books from the Qing Empire and also forced several scholars to correct their literary style. Amid this climate of control and censorship, the editing of the Parhaego took place–a work that had a rather unusual and troubled genesis, being subjected to numerous alterations and corrections since its publication in 1784.
Reconstructing the genesis of this book, albeit only partially, may also provide a starting point for further reflections on authorship during this crucial phase of the Chosŏn period, when the book was exposed to possible corrections, rewritings, and expansions, probably even without the full consent of the original author. This process is particularly interesting in the case of the Parhaego, which was not merely historical, but also highly political as a manifesto giving voice to the policy of reconquering the Northern Territories that was in vogue in those years. It is certainly likely that the author spontaneously wanted to correct his work, and that his travels (or the acquisition of new sources) made it possible to perfect the quality of his original book. In this article, however, considering the academic climate of the time I also considered the hypothesis that rather the author was exposed to a form of censorship or self-censorship that led him to a radical reworking of his book. In subsequent studies, the hypothesis presented in this article should be better explored and other aspects will have to be better analyzed, as the genesis of the author’s other texts and the publishing and editing processes of other similar historical books, especially during the reign of king Chŏngjo.
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