![]() |
The Sillok was a faithful chronicle; one of the safeguards built into the writing of the history was that they didn't compile the official history until after the king died. Then a committee of scholars/officials would be assigned to go through the records and write the official history. And the new king could not interfere on behalf of his father, the predecessor king. (The Sillok has been named as UNESCO Memory of the World.)
The record began with the four secretaries that would take notes in every official meeting with the king. If one goes to the palace today, one can see the four desks on the floor where the secretaries would sit, in a space between the king's throne and the inside of the doors of the palace hall where the officials would meet to converse, or confront, the king. The four of them in rotation would take down notes and often verbatim quotations of those speaking with the king, and the king's responses and decisions.
At the end of each day at court, the four clerks met and entered the record from the day, scattered in four notebooks, into one narrative of the day's events into the Royal Secretariat's Diary (Seungjeongwon ilgi). It is generally estimated that the Diary contained about one-fourth of the amount of notes taken during the day. (It has been named a UNESCO Memory of the World, too.)
When the king died and the committee of scholars were appointed, it is estimated that their record, the Sillok, contained about one-fourth of the material in the Royal Secretariat's Diary. Thus, the Sillok was an abstract, but therein there were exact quotations and excerpts of exact dialog between the king and his officials.
Which is why this story I found in the Sillok was so unusual. It was not an abstract, but a full account of a woman of questionable behavior. The entry was entered as a story, not a dialog with the king. And it was quite long as Sillok entries go. And it did not end with a decision from the king, which was the usual case (although often the decision was, have such-and-such agency or person look at this and we'll decide later). Rather the story just sits there.
Here's an outline of the story followed by my guess as to what it's about.
The story is about a woman, Lady Yi, a royal relative, who was widowed but had married again, but was widowed again, but indicated that she wanted to marry a third time. The story is a little lurid in spots, for example, at the funeral of one of her husband's, the monks that came to carry out the funeral had gathered "in large numbers like a cloud." As they moved about in the ceremony, one of them caught up Lady Yi in his arms. She seemed to feign protest but those watching had the impression that they were familiar with each had been in each other's arms before.
One of her husbands was described as a man of outstanding equipment, such that someone reported painted a picture of such on the walls of village. Early Joseon graffiti!
The passage concludes that Lady Yi had only one eye, and people called her "Lady One-eye."
Odd.
What could this story be about? Why was it recorded without any introduction, without any conclusion, without any decision or comment from the king or anyone else? It just sits there.
In the early Joseon period, Confucianism was, can I say … "watered-down" Confucianism. It had not yet become the all-encompassing, male-dominant system, the patrilineal system ("bugye") of Late Joseon. In Late Joseon women were not permitted to remarry ― but rather, a caste widow, a widow who stayed with her husband's parents, caring for them, and as such that ideal had a term: yeollyeo, a faithful widow. For such women whose husbands died, particularly if they died young, often a stone monument was ordered, a yeollyeo-bi.
Madam Yi was anything but a chaste widow. Was this story being recorded as a way of saying this is not the thing one should do? Was the story preserved to show how bad things can be if one does not adhere to good Confucian doctrine?
Timing is everything. This was Early Joseon, first year of King Yejong, 1459. It was a time when Confucianism was not a dominant philosophy. But the court was sponsoring the ideology and pushing its ceremonies and doctrine. Perhaps this explains the placing of the story in the Sillok. Still, it's odd that there is not context or conclusion or judgment. It's just a story sitting there ― a strange treasure in the Sillok.
Mark Peterson (markpeterson@byu.edu) is professor emeritus of Korean, Asian and Near Eastern languages at Brigham Young University in Utah.