Admonitions on Governing the People: Manual for All Administrators

By Yagyong Chong

This is the first English translation of one of Korea’s most celebrated historical works, a pre-modern classic so well known to Koreans that it has inspired contemporary literature and television. Written in 1821 by Chong Yagyong (Tasan), Admonitions on Governing the People (Mongmin simso) is a detailed manual for district magistrates on how to govern better. In encyclopedic fashion, Chong Yagyong addresses the administration, social and economic life, criminal justice, the military, and the Confucian ritual system. He provides examples of past corrupt officials and discusses topics of the day such as famine relief and social welfare. A general call for overhauling the Korean ruling system, the book also makes the radical proposition that the purpose of government is to serve the interests of the people. This long-awaited translation opens a new window on early-nineteenth century Korea and makes available to a wide audience a work whose main concerns simultaneously transcend national and cultural boundaries.

• Language: English
• Publisher: University of California Press
• Release date: Aug 15, 2010
• ISBN: 9780520947702

Yagyong Chong

Chong Yagyong (1762–1863), who wrote under the pen name Tasan, was one of Korea’s greatest Confucian scholars. Award-winning writer and scholar Choi Byonghyon has devoted himself to the English translation of Korean classics over the last two decades, and his translation of The Book of Corrections: Reflections on the National Crisis on the Japanese Invasion of Korea 1592-1597 won the translation award from Korea Literature Translation Institute. He is currently working on a dictionary for the English translation of Korean classics.

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TRANSLATOR’S INTRODUCTION

A book titled Mongmin simsŏ (Admonitions on Governing the People), one of the most famous and celebrated works of the nineteenth-century Korean scholar-official Chŏng Yagyong (better known by his pen name, Tasan), became a must-read for the ruling elite toward the end of the Chosŏn period (1392–1910) and still more celebrated at the turn of the twenty-first century. In the last twenty years or so Chŏng has received recognition as one of Korea’s most creative and systematic thinkers, especially among the younger generation of scholars and intellectuals in Korea. He is now attracting more interest than T’oegye and Yulgok, traditionally regarded as Korea’s greatest names in classical and political thought. Mongmin simsŏ is so well known in Korea that its title has even been used for a best-selling novel and a subsequent television miniseries that draws on that novel. For this reason alone, an English translation is very desirable and long overdue. Furthermore, because the author of Admonitions takes both Korean and Chinese history as the main sources of his book, it will generate interest among readers of these two countries, as well as Japan, which has a similar cultural legacy. However, the main concerns and vision of the book transcend national and cultural boundaries.

Chŏng Yagyong’s Admonitions on Governing the People is a poignant presentation of circumstances and issues still relevant in society today. Although it is based on the social and political scene of Korea’s late Chosŏn dynasty, the many cases of irregularity and inefficiency among local governments described by Chŏng are perennial, as is the quest of civilized states to achieve governments that might effectively manage such aberrations.

The challenges leaders face in ruling a society are universal and predictable, but Chŏng’s motivations and the way in which he presents these timeless issues are nonetheless unique. Moving beyond mere description of societal problems and their management, Chŏng’s text is simultaneously an admonition and an attempt to rectify the social ills of his time and the future. Drawing deeply from the annals of history, which he believes to be a great code of conduct and moral guidance, Chŏng evaluates problems in administration and all other matters from a historical perspective. As a result, Admonitions is encyclopedic in its range and depth, providing insight not only about administrative matters but also about crucial aspects of the history and culture shared by East Asian countries such as Korea, China, and Japan. Furthermore, the book reflects and exemplifies Practical Learning (Sirhak) in Korea and Evidential Learning (Gaozhengxue) in Qing China, the new intellectual schools, or movements, that originated as critical reactions to the ideologically rigid and restrictive Neo-Confucianism.

Incorporating diverse currents from these sources into the ocean of his vast learning, Chŏng Yagyong also produced more than five hundred volumes on a variety of subjects, including treatises and commentaries on all the major Confucian classics, local administration, institutional reforms, the legal system, economics, national defense, geography, philology, education, and medicine, along with thousands of poems, epitaphs, eulogies, letters, and other literary works. Thus, if one were to read Chŏng’s oeuvre in its entirety, one would recover the whole intellectual heritage of East Asia from ancient times to the early nineteenth century.

In spite of his great achievements and his status as one of Korea’s greatest scholar-reformers, Tasan is virtually unknown to general readers in China and Japan, not to mention the rest of the world. In his pioneering study Chŏng Yagyong: Korea’s Challenge to Orthodox Neo-Confucianism (1997), Mark Setton first introduced Tasan’s works to a Western audience. English-speaking readers, however, have had no direct exposure to Tasan’s work because of the lack of English translations, and secondary scholarship provides only a partial view of the importance of Tasan’s scholarship and work.

CHŎNG YAGYONG:

LIFE AND GENERAL BACKGROUND

Chŏng Yagyong (1762–1836), often referred to by his pen name, Tasan (Tea Mountain), was the fourth son of Chŏng Chaewŏn, a magistrate of Chinju. Residing in the upper reaches of the Han River (now Kwangju in Kyŏnggi Province) for over nine generations, his family produced high officials who rose to the Jade Hall.¹ Because of their affiliation with the Southerners faction, which had been ousted from political power, his immediate forefathers, with the exception of his father, were never allowed to reenter public office. His mother, Lady Yun Sugin, was a descendant of the illustrious Haenam Yun clan, which produced Yun Sŏndo (1587–1671), a famous sijo² master and mentor of Prince Pongnim (King Hyojong) and Prince Inp’yŏng, and Yun Tuso (1668–1715), one of the three greatest painters of Chosŏn Korea.

Endowed with a rich familial heritage in addition to extraordinary talent of his own, Tasan published a small volume of poems titled Three-Eyebrow Collection when he was only nine years old. Proving his scholastic ability, he passed the classics licentiate examination, which ensured his entry to the National Confucian Academy. Shortly after he entered the academy, he was commended for his outstanding exposition of a philosophical topic presented to King Chŏngjo, his future patron and a scholar of the highest caliber. Given the king’s deep impression of Tasan’s extraordinary talent and scholarship, the chief royal counselor observed that Chŏng is certain to make a great name for himself after all those praises from the king. His prediction proved to be true.

Finding increased favor in the king’s eyes, Tasan ultimately passed taekwa, the higher level of the state civil service examination. Within less than a decade Tasan had already served in a number of honorable and prestigious positions in the government hierarchy: fourth censor of the Office of Censor General, fourth inspector of the Office of Inspector General, second royal counselor, third minister of war, and, finally, third minister of punishments.

The king’s extraordinary patronage, however, turned out to be both a blessing and a curse for Tasan. As the king’s favorite, Tasan was often attacked by jealous opponents and was compelled to decline appointments and privileges. Fully aware of Tasan’s difficult situation, the king also demonstrated caution and attempted to restrain any ostentatious promotion of his protégé. The king regularly gave Tasan tasks and missions, such as reviewing and compiling various texts concerning histories and rites; producing poems and essays in response to the topics he gave; building floating bridges over the Han River for royal trips; designing and constructing the fortress of Hwasŏng, a new royal city; and conducting secret investigations of corrupt officials. In addition, the king at times assigned Tasan to minor posts or ordered him to serve as a local magistrate; in one extreme case the king briefly exiled Tasan so that the latter could avoid being the target of accusations. A message of comfort to Tasan, however, was always veiled in the king’s stern decree.

King Chŏngjo and Tasan shared not only lofty idealism and a love for learning but also a common enemy: the Western Principle subfaction (Pyŏkp’a), which had conspired to bring about the death of the king’s father, Crown Prince Sado, and had tried to prevent the enthronement of his son, Chŏngjo. Tasan and his family were affiliated with the Southern Expediency subfaction (Sip’a) and had been sympathetic to the crown prince and opposed to his execution. Nevertheless, the crown prince was put to death in 1762, the year Tasan was born, and Tasan’s father deeply mourned his death and withdrew from public service.

FIGURE 1. An imaginary portrait of Tasan placed in Tasan Ch’odang, the cottage in Kangjin where he lived while in exile.

Surrounded by enemies from the day of his enthronement, the king needed to build his strength. The first step he took was finding and raising new talent, like Tasan and the circle of his Southerner associates, who could support him in his difficult situation. Thus he promoted Ch’ae Chegong, a senior Southerner statesman, to the position of state councilor and also appointed the prominent Southerners Yi Kahwan and Yi Kiyang minister of works and minister of rites, respectively. This maneuvering, however, was accomplished only in the later period of his reign. As a loyal son, Chŏngjo could directly avenge the death of his father by using his sovereign powers, but he could not do so without violating his filial obligations toward his grandfather, King Yŏngjo, who had ordered the death of his father, as well as toward his maternal grandfather, who had been deeply involved in the factional conspiracy. Avenging his father’s death thus risked undermining his own legitimacy.

Because of the complicated situation surrounding the king’s personal tragedy and the ongoing power struggle, Tasan became the major target of the king’s enemies. Instead of directly challenging the king, they chose to weaken him by attacking those who were most loyal and beneficial to him. They relentlessly attacked Tasan, for his association with Catholicism made him vulnerable to criticism.

Catholicism had begun to spread swiftly among the members of Tasan’s family and friends. Interest in Catholicism, or so-called Western Learning (Sŏhak), among the Southerners was already more than a century and a half old by the time the controversy broke out. In 1614 Yi Sugwang (1563–1628), who had been to Ming China as a member of a Korean diplomatic mission, published Topical Discourses of Chibong (Chibong yusŏl), which introduced the work of Matteo Ricci³ and Western culture in general. Yi Ik (1681–1763), one of the founders of the Practical Learning school, showed an interest in Western Learning, particularly its scientific aspect. His interest was soon shared by his disciples and followers, but some of them also took an interest in its religious side. Yi Sŭnghun, Tasan’s brother-in-law, visited Peking to be baptized by a Western priest and baptized his colleagues after his return to Korea. Tasan was closely connected to this group of people through kinship, discipleship, or faction.

Yi Pyŏk, a literary licentiate and a brother-in-law of Tasan’s elder brother, Yakhyŏn, initially introduced the twenty-three-year-old Tasan to Catholicism on a ferryboat ride along the Han River. Tasan first read a book given to him by Yi Pyŏk and later joined Yi in a seminar on Catholicism he had organized. Yi Pyŏk was baptized by Yi Sŭnghun soon after the latter’s trip to Peking. Under the influence of these in-laws and Tasan’s family circle, all of Tasan’s brothers (except the eldest, Yakhyŏn) converted, although he and his second-oldest brother Yakchŏn soon recanted their faith.

As expected, King Chŏngjo proscribed Catholicism in 1785 when the Roman Catholic Church ruled that ancestor worship and belief in Christianity were incompatible. Six years later, in 1791, Yun Chich’ung, a member of the Yun clan and Tasan’s maternal cousin, destroyed the memorial tablet for his mother in accordance with the papal decree of 1742. This incident outraged the government, as well as the public, for it offended the mainstream aristocracy and challenged traditional Confucian morality. Yun Chich’ung was soon arrested and executed amid public outcries.

This was one of many incidents that made Catholicism a major political issue and provided the Old Doctrine Principle subfaction with a pretext for removing the Southerners, who had begun to rise again with the king’s support. Its members accused Tasan and his associates of violating the royal decree on Catholicism and insinuated that their activities were potentially treasonous. Although their attempt to discredit Tasan was aborted by the king, who refused to accept their accusations, it was soon followed by another unexpected incident that put both Tasan and the king in a difficult position. A Chinese priest named Chou Wenmo secretly entered Korea to support the newly founded Catholic Church. Korean authorities tried to arrest him, but with the help of his followers, the priest managed to evade them. Eventually, however, he was captured along with his followers. Among those who were arrested was a man named Yun Yuil, whom Tasan had previously befriended during the early stage of his contact with Catholicism. Yun Yuil was a colleague of Yi Sŭnghun and Kwŏn Ilsin, to whom Tasan was related by kinship and faction. Tasan and his colleagues were later charged with being secret supporters of Yun Yuil’s activities.

Sometime earlier, as pressure continued to build up, Tasan submitted a request for his replacement. He included a personal statement in which he admitted that he had read books related to Catholicism when he was young and immature; he stated that he had been influenced by them to a certain extent, but he insisted that his reading had mainly been motivated by his intellectual curiosity, not the religion itself. He also made it clear that when he had learned of the Catholic Church’s prohibition of ancestor worship through the Chinsan⁴ incident, he had found this tenet repugnant and therefore had abandoned Catholicism and any affiliations related to it. Impressed by the sincerity and honesty in Tasan’s statement, the king trusted his words. Pacifying his enemies, however, was another matter. Therefore, he dispatched Tasan far from Seoul as superintendent of post stations in Kŭmjŏng, South Ch’ungch’ŏng Province. In return, Tasan repaid the king’s trust by working hard to persuade residents to return to Confucian ways and renounce Catholicism.

Convinced of Tasan’s innocence and further appreciating his loyalty, the king promoted him to his highest post yet, fourth minister of war, and then to the equally influential positions of fifth and fourth royal secretaries. Naturally, these drastic promotions revived the old accusations among Tasan’s enemies, who were much fiercer this time and eventually compelled Tasan to resign from his position in the Royal Secretariat. Then the king appointed him local magistrate of Koksan, Hwanghae Province, which was far from Seoul, as well as from factional strife. During his magistracy Tasan characteristically devoted his talent and energy to improving the district of which he was in charge. In the process he acquired firsthand experience with the abuses of the ruling class and the sufferings and resentment of exploited people, which was most likely the basis of his inspiration for Admonitions.

When the term of his magistracy ended in 1799, Tasan was called back to Seoul, promoted to the position of third minister of punishments, and ordered to take over many of the responsibilities of the aged minister Cho Sangjin. In addition, the king frequently invited Tasan to his royal quarters, where the two engaged in late-night talks. This further disconcerted the other royal counselors.

Hong Sibu, a friend of Tasan, secretly informed him that the Office of Special Counselors was spying on his private interviews with the king. A few days after this warning, his opponents⁵ renewed their attack on Tasan, citing an accusation made by a man named Cho Hwajin, an apostate of the Catholic Church. Sometime earlier Cho had submitted an urgent report that Tasan and his senior colleague, Yi Kahwan, were promoting Catholicism with the assistance of their right-hand man Han Yŏngik. Cho had been seeking revenge on Han, who had refused his offer to marry his daughter to Chŏng Yakhwang, the stepbrother of Tasan. In the process of carrying out his plot, he drew Tasan into his accusation.

Although these accusations were soon dismissed upon investigation, they not only exasperated Tasan but made him fearful. He finally took his family and retired in the early spring of 1800 to his old home, Mahyŏn, on the upper Han River. When the king heard that Tasan had gone, he immediately sent a message that he was planning to call him back for a job in the Publications Office (Chusaso) as soon as his place was ready. A few months later the king sent another message: We have not seen each other for a long time. Since your place is almost complete and I want you to take charge of publishing books, you will be able to attend the royal lectures at the end of the month. According to the royal messenger, the king appeared to miss Tasan greatly, and his words were charged with deep emotion. But on that very day, as Tasan recollected, the king’s health started deteriorating. By the time the two were supposed to meet, the king had passed away. Tasan mourned his death, lamenting, The sky has collapsed.

The death of his king and patron utterly devastated Tasan, for it meant the death sentence for his career, as well as his own life. Even before the funeral of the king ended, rumors began to circulate, and not long afterward Queen Dowager Kim (Yŏngjo’s queen), now regent for the new king, pronounced a stern warning through her decree that those who believed in the Religion of the West (Catholicism) would be punished severely.

Early in 1801 Hwang Sayŏng, the brother-in-law of Tasan’s third-oldest brother, Yakjong, secretly attempted to send the so-called silk letter⁶ to the Catholic bishop in Peking, requesting that Western nations send in their navies to compel the Korean government to grant religious freedom. When Hwang’s daring and treasonous act was discovered, Tasan’s brother, Yakjong, decided to conceal some letters and books related to missionary activities. Hiding them in a bamboo container, he had his servant carry them out with the firewood; unfortunately, the servant was searched, and the container was confiscated by the authorities. Although it contained nothing related to Tasan himself, he, his colleagues and associates, and his two elder brothers were implicated in the official report on Hwang Sayŏng and were all tried and tortured. As a consequence, Tasan’s third-oldest brother, Yakjong, and his in-laws and faction members, including Yi Kahwan, Kwŏn Ch’ŏlsin, Yi Sŭnghun, and Hong Nangmin, were all put to death; Tasan and his second-oldest brother, Yakchŏn, as well as many others, were exiled. This infamous Catholic Persecution of 1801 (Sinyu saok) took place when Tasan was forty years old and changed his life permanently.

Tasan was exiled to Changgi, a remote sea village on the east coast, and his brother Yakchŏn to Sinji Island in the south. Despite his exile, persecution and threats to his life continued. When Hwang Sayŏng, who had escaped, was finally arrested, Tasan’s enemies reopened the case, and he was imprisoned again with his brother and others for interrogation. Showing Hwang’s silk letter to Tasan, the chief interrogator said, There is no hope for those who read even one word of the Western books; death is their only destiny. However, because the interrogators failed to produce any connection between Hwang’s letter and the prisoners, Tasan was exiled to Kangjin and his brother to Hŭksan Island, both located in the distant southern province. Frustrated at finding out that they were unable to take Tasan’s life, one of Tasan’s enemies angrily said to the censor general: If you kill a thousand but fail to take Yagyong’s life, it is as though you have killed none. Why do you not exert yourself more? The censor general replied, Since the man does not die himself, what can I do?

FIGURE 2. Tasan Ch’odang, where Tasan spent the last ten years of his exile writing numerous books, including Admonitions.

In the summer of 1802 Tasan arrived in Kangjin, the place of his exile. Upon his arrival, Yi Anmuk, the magistrate of Kangjin, accused Tasan of a trivial matter. Because his accusation was false, however, his attempt to ensnare Tasan failed. In the winter of the following year (1803), Queen Dowager Kim ordered his release, but Minister Sŏ Yongbo, Tasan’s mortal enemy, intervened and overturned the decision.⁷

As the years passed, Tasan’s life in Kangjin began to settle down. Although he had to live apart from his family, who remained in Seoul, Kangjin was relatively congenial to Tasan because of its proximity to Haenam, the hometown of his mother’s family. In 1808 he moved to a little hill called Tasan (Tea Mountain), from which he took his pen name. With the generous support of his maternal relative Yun Tan, he built a couple of thatched cottages, landscaping the area with a little pond and a waterfall to suit his tastes. Stacking a thousand books in his room, he devoted himself solely to reading and writing while educating the sons of the local gentry. His place, called Tasan Ch’odang (Grass-Roof Cottage of Tasan), is now a major tourist attraction in the area.

In 1810 his son Hagyŏn appealed to the authorities to release his father, beating the gong set up outside the royal palace. When the king granted his release, Tasan’s old foes, Hong Myŏngju and Yi Kigyŏng, once again intervened and persuaded the king to withdraw his decree. In 1814 the decision to release Tasan was made by the Office of Inspector General, and the official document was sent to the State Tribunal (Ŭigŭmbu). However, Chief Magistrate Yi Chipdu did not dare execute the order because Second Censor Kang Chŭnhŭm was strongly opposed to it, as revealed in his memorial to the king. In 1818 Fourth Counselor Yi T’aesun submitted a memorial in which he criticized the State Tribunal for failing to carry out the royal order to release Tasan. Chief State Councilor Nam Kongch’ŏl joined him, reproaching the officials of the State Tribunal. Chief Magistrate Kim Hŭisun immediately dispatched an official order to Kangjin, and Tasan was finally released from his exile, which had lasted for eighteen years. He was fifty-six at the time of his release.

Tasan lived another eighteen years after he returned from exile, completing many works that he had started during his banishment. When he first started his exile, he said to himself, Although I had initially resolved to set my mind on learning, secular affairs and public service prevented me from studying the great Way of the sage kings of old. Now I finally have the leisure to fulfill my wish. He began to study the Six Classics and the Four Books, paying close attention to the texts and collecting related commentaries and theories, dating back to the days of the Han and Wei dynasties, as well as the Ming and Qing periods; his ultimate purpose, however, was to establish his own views and ideas, discovering and demonstrating major errors and providing corrections and remedies. Once this project was accomplished, he started working on more practical books. Thus he wrote books dealing with institutional reform of the central government, local administration, and the legal system, respectively titled Design for Good Government (Kyŏngse yup’yo), Admonitions on Governing the People (Mongmin simsŏ), and Toward a New Jurisprudence (Hŭmhŭm sinsŏ).⁸ These three books, known to represent his scholarly achievements, are virtually the summa of Tasan’s ideas on social reforms and the ethos of the Practical Learning school, with which he was affiliated.

The circulation of Tasan’s manuscripts was limited to his close family and friends. Perhaps the best reader and critic Tasan could find was his second-oldest brother, Yakchŏn, the author of Register of Hŭksan Fish (Chasan ŏbo), who was in exile on Hŭksan Island. Upon reading Commentary on the Classic of Changes (Chuyŏk sajŏn), he wrote to Tasan, The mystical truths in the hearts of the three sages are now finally revealed bright. After reading Introduction to the Classic of Changes (Yŏkhak sŏŏn), he said, The previous work of yours seemed to be a morning star shining bright in the east; this one is like the sun shining in the middle of the sky. About Four Commentaries on Funeral Rites (Sangnye sajŏn), he commented, Like the one who neatly combs tangled hair, or the one who washes his clothes clean or cooks well, you dealt with all the matters properly in the way in which Zhang Tang handled litigations. Yakchŏn’s praise of Examination of Documents on Music (Aksŏ kojon) was even more lavish: Like a dream that one has once in the long night of two thousand years, the spirit of great music finally returned. Tasan was more pleased with the compliment of Kim Maesun, a famous scholar of the Palace Library, who read his Evaluation of Mei Ze’s Classic of History (Maessi sangsŏp’yŏng): "The way in which the author uncovered the subtle truth by touching a delicate spot is akin to Fei Wei’s⁹ hitting a louse by shooting an arrow; that he sorted out entangled stuff, separating the hard from the soft, is akin to Pao Ding’s ability to separate bones from flesh when butchering an ox;¹⁰ that he uncovered wickedness with stubbornness is like the ways in which Shang Yang¹¹ ruled Weishui and Bian He howled in Mt. Heng.¹² The author, on the one hand, is a great merit subject [one who greatly contributed to founding or saving the kingdom] by settling the turmoil surrounding the Old Text Shangshu [a version of Classic of History which turned out to be a forgery], and, on the other, a powerful minister by suppressing the scorn directed at Zhu Xi.¹³ Great achievements made by the Confucian literati cannot surpass his. Since this happened after a journey that lasted a millennium and, furthermore, among the wilderness covered with weeds, how can we deny that a miracle has happened?"

FIGURE 3. Handwritten copy of Admonitions. The calligraphy is not Tasan’s.

Much earlier, in a letter to his friend Han Sangik, Tasan had complained that there was no one who could read his works, even though three years had passed since his return from exile. Under these circumstances, Kim Maesun’s praise undoubtedly provided him with great comfort, so Tasan wrote to Kim to express his gratitude: Receiving this kind letter from you after having gone through all kinds of misfortune and suffering, for the first time, I wish to live longer. This indicates how isolated Tasan had been in his last years, but not without fit audience though few.¹⁴

TASAN’S WORKS IN SOCIAL

AND HISTORICAL CONTEXT

In Self-Written Epitaph (Chach’an myojimyŏng), his autobiography, Tasan enumerates his works and provides brief explanations of their main ideas. What is missing, however, is an explanation of the social and historical context that influenced and shaped his work.

There were two dominant philosophical and political ideologies during the Chosŏn dynasty (1392–1910): Neo-Confucianism and Practical Learning (Sirhak). Replacing Buddhism, the former contributed to the foundation of the dynasty and dominated the first half of its reign; the latter emerged in the late seventeenth century in reaction to the excesses of the former and turned its attention to practical issues rather than philosophical ones. The Neo-Confucianism of the Chosŏn dynasty developed through li and ki disputes, four-seven debates,¹⁵ and rites disputes; thus it became more and more ideological and metaphysical. This led to criticism by Practical Learning scholars like Yi Ik that the current scholarly trend was so focused on the question of origin that it was hardly aware of matters concerning outcome or reality. Whereas the former ideology served the interests of the elite and the aristocracy in power, the latter served scholars ousted from power, as well as the general populace. If the former was preoccupied with morality, the latter was preoccupied with reality. Thus Neo-Confucianism was focused on preservation, and Sirhak on transformation. The chronic tensions and dialectic between preservation and progress greatly influenced Tasan’s life and works.

Initially, scholars and politicians shared and accepted the two trends of thought without partisan politics; even when factional strife first broke out between Easterners and Westerners in 1575, personal animosity rather than ideology was the determining factor. Interest in Catholicism or Western Learning stemmed from intellectual curiosity and transcended party lines. Thus Yi Sugwang (1563–1628), the precursor of the Sirhak school, and Yi Imyŏng (1658–1722), a prominent member of the Old Doctrine faction and third state councilor during the reign of Sukchong, both contacted Westerners in Peking whose books and ideas they later introduced to Korean readers.¹⁶ Their introduction of Western learning could have been construed as an indirect challenge to the ruling authorities, but it was never perceived that way.

However, as factional politics continued to grow and affect directly the lives of its players, as well as society as a whole, ideological conflicts and confrontations between opposing camps were inevitable. In particular, the prolonged dominance of the Old Doctrine faction exacerbated these conflicts, leading those such as Southerners who were barred from power to challenge them. The mainstream Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucianism¹⁷ that had been elevated to the level of a sacred dogma by the dominant Westerners was subjected to attack along with its advocates. This challenging spirit toward the entrenched Neo-Confucian orthodoxy became the seed of the ideas that shaped the School of Practical Learning (Sirhakp’a).

The first major sign of conflict began to emerge when Yun Hyu (1617–1680), a prominent and independent-minded scholar of the Southerners faction, began to raise questions openly about Zhu Xi’s interpretations of Confucian classics: When I read the works of Zhu Xi, and particularly his commentaries, I would write and then edit, edit, and again write (Setton, Chŏng Yagyong, 30). Unwilling to grant Zhu Xi’s commentaries the status of ultimate authority, Yun Hyu contended that a person had the right to interpret ancient texts on the basis of his own study.

Yun Hyu’s daring critique of Zhu Xi’s commentaries and his defense of personal interpretation (a great influence on Tasan in his later career) was perceived as a direct challenge to Song Siyŏl (1607–1689), the leader of the ruling Westerners faction and a promoter of Zhu Xi’s orthodoxy. The two men, formerly close friends, thus chose different paths and eventually became mortal enemies as they battled over the Rites Dispute of 1659 (Kihae yesong).¹⁸ Although this dispute was seemingly trivial and even senseless, it had strong implications for the legitimacy of King Hyojong. Hyojong, the second son of King Injo, had been chosen over his elder brother Sohyŏn, the legitimate heir according to the tradition of primogeniture. Ancient rites, being ambiguous in cases such as this, provided no clear guidance.

Therefore, when King Hyojong died, the government consulted the two foremost authorities on Confucian rites at the time. Song recommended one year of mourning, whereas Yun advised three years. While Song based his argument on family relationship, Yun based his on the exceptional status of the royal family. According to Yun, applying the regular mourning rites of ordinary people to royalty was inappropriate; the one-year mourning period advocated by Song, therefore, was irrelevant to the case of the queen dowager.

As the rites dispute escalated, senior members of the Southerners faction (Hŏ Mok, Yun Hyu’s former teacher, and Yun Sŏndo, Tasan’s distant ancestor on his maternal side) joined the battle by supporting the position of Yun Hyu. This raised more political controversy because they contended that Song and his Westerners faction were attempting to endanger the king and the state by making unacceptable distinctions in the line of succession. This dispute turned out to be inconclusive because the young King Hyŏnjong paid little attention to the contentious issue. However, when another dispute over a similar situation arose fifteen years later, he ordered a thorough investigation and supported the Southerners faction, which had argued for exceptional status for members of royal family in observing funeral rites. The Southerners finally won the dispute and political power, but their triumph was short lived; their loss of power, which had occurred in 1680, lasted until the Policy of Impartiality (T’angp’yŏngch’aek) was implemented during the reign of Yŏngjo, thereby allowing a handful of Southerners, including Tasan, to serve briefly in the court of Chŏngjo.

As Tasan clearly stated in his autobiography and other writings, his exhaustive studies of the Six Classics and the Four Books were primarily intended for self-cultivation (sugi). From another perspective, however, they were an extension of the old rites dispute, which brought about the rise and fall of his family and the Southerners faction. The first book that Tasan wrote during his exile was Four Commentaries on Funeral Rites. Whether Tasan used this work as a platform to vindicate both his own position and that taken by the Southerners, for which they had been accused of Western Learning, is worth speculation. He said, In the funeral of the emperor or the king, the queen dowager is also required to wear a mourning dress made of coarse hemp. Hence all those who are related to the dead by kinship, regardless of their closeness, must follow her example. This statement was essentially identical to the contention of Yun Hyu, who was not only a prominent Southerner but also a member of the Yun clan to which Tasan’s maternal family belonged, during the Rites Disputes of 1659 and 1674.

It is also possible to regard Tasan’s critique of Zhu Xi’s Neo-Confucian metaphysics in the same light. In Essential Meaning of Mencius (which followed Four Commentaries on Funeral Rites and An Examination of Ancestral Rites), Tasan argued that one of the ideological foundations of Zhu Xi’s philosophical system was erroneous. Whereas Zhu Xi conceived of human nature as part of the all-embracing cosmic principle called li, Tasan maintained that there were no references in Confucian classics that equated human nature with li. Zhu Xi, unlike Mencius, tried to apply cosmic dualism, the principle-material force (li-qi), to the human psyche, as well as to matters of morality or the problems of good and evil. Tasan asserted that Zhu Xi’s labeling of things in human nature as principles (as opposed to predilections [kiho]) was a misinterpretation of Mencian moral principles. According to his argument, because human nature itself is essentially neither good nor evil, morality is a choice between two conflicting predilections.

Not only did Tasan argue that Zhu Xi’s metaphysical approach was unauthorized by Confucian classics, but he further contended that it was greatly influenced by Buddhism. According to this claim, Zhu Xi’s orthodoxy and the original Neo-Confucianism were, in fact, not as orthodox as they were perceived to be. Furthermore, the implication was that the Westerners’ Old Doctrine faction, not Tasan or the Southerners, should be charged with heresy.

Tasan’s critical reading and deconstruction of Zhu Xi’s authority are closely aligned with the quintessentially critical attitude of the Practical Learning school of which he was a part. His exhaustive study of the Six Classics and the Four Books went beyond self-cultivation to self-vindication. More important, his interpretation of the classical texts had practical value because it could affect the lives of innocent people, as well as the future of the state. Although the chances of restoring the original state of those texts were slim for an exile like Tasan, he at least might have wanted to put his interpretation on record for posterity.

In addition to the legacy of the Southerners faction and the School of Practical Learning, another great influence on Tasan was the Evidential Learning school that flourished in Qing China. Rather than their ideas, however, Tasan’s main interest was the critical methodology of the Chinese Evidential Learning scholars, which involved rigorous research and scientific evidence. For example, in An Evaluation of Mei Ze’s Classic of History, Tasan said, The merit of Qing scholarship lies in its examination of evidence. In the preface to Four Commentaries on Funeral Rites, Tasan summed up his methodological technique in two phrases: interpreting a classical text through the use of other classical texts (igyŏng chinggyŏng) and comparing the details of individual texts to clarify their meaning (p’ich’a pidae). These critical approaches involved philology, which became Tasan’s favorite methodology. Using philological means such as phonology, paleography, and etymology, Tasan tried to restore or recapture the ideas and intentions of ancient sages. Tasan named his scholarly approach Susa learning, referring to the rivers Su and Sa in Qufu, the home of Confucius. Thus Susa learning became the hallmark of Tasan’s scholarship.

He disapproved, however, of the tendencies in Evidential Learning scholarship to focus only on glossing the texts. In his Treatise on the Five Schools (Ohangnon), he argued that the philological approach of the contemporary Evidential Learning school deviated from its original purpose by degenerating into detailed exegesis of minutiae. He contended that true Confucianism originally aimed at ruling the state and making the lives of people comfortable; repelling the enemy and enriching the national finance; and dealing with whatever challenges one may encounter through the mastery of learning and military science. How can it be true learning to concentrate on discovering poetic phrases or producing commentaries on trivia like insects and fish or practicing propriety wearing clothes with wide sleeves? Finding anomalies and aberrations both in the Evidential Learning school and the established Neo-Confucianists of his time, Tasan deplored a general tendency in them to disregard practical learning as something miscellaneous and trivial. His relentless study of the classics and ancient texts is far from antiquarianism; rather, it was driven by his sincere desire to change Chosŏn society.

CHOSŎN KOREA AND ADMONITIONS

ON GOVERNING THE PEOPLE

During Tasan’s lifetime the local government of the Chosŏn period—the main focus of Tasan’s Admonitions—was in serious disarray. In a country already devastated by Japanese and Manchu invasions and preoccupied with continuous factional fights over issues like responsibility for wars, foreign policy toward Qing China, rites disputes, the death of the crown prince, and Western Learning, little attention was paid to what directly affected the lives of the people: the local administration. As a result, the suffering of the people was immense. Agriculture, the main source of national revenue, was ruined because wars had laid farmland waste. Cultivation shrank significantly, and even worse, the land registers had been destroyed, while the number of unreported hidden fields (ŭngyŏl) began to increase. Furthermore, the payment of tribute taxes was overly complicated and imposed an extra burden on the people. So-called tribute contracting (pangnap) and grain loans (hwangok) became sources of corruption and exploitation. Land and military taxes and corvée labor were levied exclusively on the common people, whereas members of the privileged yangban¹⁹ class were exempted from those requirements through bribery or other means. As a result, taxes were mainly imposed on the underprivileged poor and were collected ruthlessly. Under these circumstances, the local government registered boys as adults (hwanggu ch’ŏmjŏng or fledgling legerdemain) in order to make up for lost revenue in military taxes; alternatively, they kept the names of dead men on the tax records (paekgol chingp’o or skeleton levies). This grave situation is depicted in a poem Tasan composed when he was serving as a secret royal inspector:

My brass spoons were taken away by the village head last time

And my iron pots by a rich man next door the other day.

My older son, five years old, is now on the military record for the cavalry, and a younger one, three years old, is registered for the army.

Paying five hundred p’un²⁰ for the military taxes of the two sons,

All I am thinking now is that I wish I were dead.

The anger and frustration of the exploited people are also found in another poem written during his exile titled Cutting Off His Male Organ in Despair (Aejŏlyang). The poem presents a village woman who gave birth to a male child sometime ago, but her child was registered for military service as soon as it was born. That means that her family has to pay military tax for the newborn child. However, she is too poor to pay the tax, and as this happens, an agent from the local government takes away a cow raised in her house. Outraged by this, her husband cuts off his male organ, regretting that he produced a son. This is what Confucius meant by his lament that oppressive government is more terrible than tigers.²¹

In short, the government was useless, and the people were helpless because maintaining the status quo was deemed more urgent than making changes. This general situation is what compelled Tasan to produce Admonitions.

Tasan in his Design for Good Government, which was written around the same time as Admonitions, describes late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century Korean society as follows:

After the Japanese invasion [in 1592], the government system slackened, and all state affairs crumbled into disarray. The continuing expansion of military bases drained the state treasury, and the disorder in the land-distribution system led to unjust taxation. The source of production was blocked, while the holes of waste remained open with no limit. The government tried to reorganize departments and agencies and reduce the number of officials. Although these measures brought about some benefits, the magnitude of the damage that it generated was far greater. So the government lacked officials, and officials often failed to be paid properly. As a result, the evil practice of abuses and avarice began to rise, and the populace was thrown into poverty. When I reflect on this situation, there is nothing that is not sick. Since the state will surely face calamity unless reforms are implemented right away, how can loyal subjects and patriots just keep their arms folded and watch this?

To understand the role of the local magistrates, knowledge of the structure of the local government (modeled after that of the central government) is essential. Its six chambers (yukbang)—personnel, taxation, rites, military affairs, punishments, and public works—were an extension of six ministries (yukjo) of the central government, and the local yangban association (hyangch’ŏng) was somewhat similar in function to the so-called Samsa in the royal court, a combined term for the Office of Inspector General (Sahŏnbu), Office of Censor General (Saganwŏn), and Office of Special Counselors (Hongmun’gwan). Composed of influential members of the local yangban gentry, the local yangban association kept an eye on the local administration as a whole.

However, perhaps the most salient resemblance between the two political authorities—the king and the local magistrates, the so-called shepherds of the people—was the great power they wielded. As the king’s de facto rulers of the locality, the local magistrates exercised supreme power within their jurisdiction. According to Tasan, the main distinction lay in the magnitude of their works. Although they were normally the lowest-level central-government-appointed officials in a district, they served as the chief executive, chief tax collector, chief judicial officer, and chief law-enforcement officer for that district. Therefore, the central government was extremely cautious in selecting local magistrates and, once their appointment was decided, kept a watchful eye on their activities. The central government devised various mechanisms to control local magistrates, such as restricting the term of their duty to a maximum of one or two years, conducting secret inspections whenever necessary, and forbidding local magistrates to serve in their home districts. The provincial governor was called kamsa or kwanch’alsa, which can most accurately be translated as inspector or surveillance official. These terms highlight the way in which the governor’s primary duty was to watch over the magistrates in his province. The goal of allowing local magistrates to exercise absolute power in their respective domains was not to share power but to make them serve the central government more effectively through such activities as collecting taxes, mobilizing corvée labor, and recruiting soldiers. These were the principal requirements for the local magistrates.

The situation of local magistrates was complex. On the one hand, they were required to discharge their duties successfully through the collection of taxes and the mobilization of corvée labor; on the other hand, as the shepherds of the people, they were expected to govern the general populace with benevolence and compassion. As a rule, however, the discharge of their duties was accorded priority, which usually led to the exploitation and suffering of the common people.

Further complicating the task of the local magistrate were the petty functionaries called ajŏn, a hereditary group who usually worked in one district for their entire career. Admonitions portrays this class of people as avaricious and tyrannical in dealing with the common people. The ajŏn’s upward mobility was restricted, but unless they made serious mistakes, their position was secure because of their inherited social status; their intimate knowledge of the local situation actually enabled them to run the district office in the way they wanted. Requiring the expertise and cooperation of the indigenous functionaries, the local magistrates consulted and collaborated with them or, in some cases, simply pressured them to produce results required to fulfill their official duties.

Despite their role and hard work, petty functionaries were mostly underpaid. They did not receive a salary as such. Instead, they lived in the district office compound and took a cut of the fines and taxes they collected. Under circumstances in which there was no clear line between public and private funds, it was easy for them to slide into corruption. The case of the local magistrates was somewhat similar; they collected taxes from their districts, sent what was expected to the capital, and kept the rest for their professional and personal expenses. This system was inherently problematic and inevitably produced chronic abuses and exploitation by petty functionaries. People, however, took it for granted that all the irregularities and wrongdoing in the local administration could be attributed to the activities of petty functionaries. Tasan, on the other hand, believed that the chronic irregularities committed by petty functionaries were due to failure in the magistrates’ leadership.

According to Tasan, the lack of effective leadership by local magistrates stemmed from two primary deficiencies: lack of personal integrity and lack of administrative expertise. In his book he repeatedly emphasizes the importance of integrity for local magistrates: Integrity is the obligation of the magistrate, the fountain of all goodness, and the basis of all virtues. Without integrity, there will be no magistrate who can discharge his duty properly. But integrity alone was not sufficient to make a good magistrate; it should be supported by practical knowledge of administration. In Admonitions Tasan often laments how a magistrate’s ignorance and lack of expertise lead him to play into the hands of crafty clerks and petty functionaries. Recounting his personal experiences, Tasan reveals how easily a magistrate can fall into a trap set by his manipulative subordinates:

Since the civil officials of our country read poetry in their early years and the military officials practiced archery, aside from these skills, they know nothing except drinking with entertaining girls or gambling. Although some of them are distinguished in natural philosophy or divination based on the Book of Changes, these things have little value. Archery may be practical in some ways, but it is of little use for administrative work and governing the district. When a man is appointed magistrate, he must abruptly leave his home to carry out his official duties and sit alone above the yamen clerks and residents of his district. Although it is natural that the magistrate is ignorant of state affairs, the magistrate, ashamed of his ignorance, often pretends to know everything. Thus he issues orders and approves matters without making inquiry, secretly taking pride in his style, swift like running water. It is due to his own actions that the magistrate falls into the trap.

According to Tasan, a good magistrate is not necessarily a man who knows every little detail of administration; rather, he is a man who works hard to overcome his lack of expertise in his assigned duty; furthermore, he should do all that is within his power to challenge and change the abuses and maladies that plague the people and society.

In Admonitions, on the basis of his administrative experience as the magistrate of Koksan, Hwanghae Province, Tasan provides various models of the proper ways for reform-minded magistrates to handle state affairs and rule the people benevolently. In Tasan’s view, a good magistrate must attempt to correct abusive and exploitative practices and customs. For example, upon his arrival in Koksan, the first thing he did was to standardize measurements. Suspicious of the rulers officially used in the yamen, he discovered that they were 2 ch’on (about 2 inches) longer than the ones specified in The Ceremonies of Five Rites (Oryeŭi).²² So he made new ones based on the brass rulers used in the capital city, reducing the people’s tax burdens for their military service. Furthermore, knowing that the clerks took advantage of the magistrate’s ignorance of households, Tasan conducted a districtwide census and made a new household register that also contained information on the property and financial situation of individual households. Because of this new census and household register, the clerks could no longer deceive the magistrate. Tasan also surveyed the land of his district and created an accurate map based on longitude and latitude. This map enabled him to see clearly the size and population of individual areas, thus preventing the trickery attempted by the clerks. He also reduced the number of Confucian students who qualified to take the state civil service examination to eighty; this measure was intended eliminate abuses by the elite, who used the pretext of preparing for the examination in order to avoid labor service.

In addition to these institutional reforms, Tasan devised various ways to help the people in his district. For instance, when the price of cloth in his district rose sharply, he sent his men to P’yŏngan Province to purchase goods with public funds at a lower price. With the cloth thus procured, he first paid the central government and let the people pay the remainder. As a result, each household was able to save an amount equivalent to the cost of a small cow.

In 1798 Chŏng Minsi, minister of taxation, set the taxes of the district of Koksan at 7,000 sŏk (equivalent to 15 to 20 mal). He instructed, however, that the rice must be paid in currency, charging 42 taels for a sŏk of rice. Because the current price for a sŏk of rice was 20 taels, paying the taxes in currency at the rate set by the government was an enormous burden on the residents, so Tasan collected the taxes in rice and kept them in the state warehouse, refusing to pay the taxes in currency. Minister Chŏng requested that the king dismiss Tasan for refusing to follow his instructions, but the king, who had read the report submitted by Tasan, acknowledged Tasan’s interest in protecting the interest of the people. Every year the provincial office of Hwanghae sent a dispatch to the district of Koksan and demanded that 3 mal of white honey and 1 mal of brown honey be presented; in fact, the clerks of the provincial office actually collected twice the amount of honey they asked for. When Tasan sent the honey exactly as they asked, ignoring the general practice of sending extra, the governor said, Since that man [Tasan] has the residents behind his back and I have nothing but a mouth, I cannot argue with him. Such examples reveal how, in Tasan’s opinion, the magistrate had to be able to refuse orders from his superior if they contradicted the law and undermined the interests of the people.

During his magistracy ten convicts were exiled to Koksan. Shunned by the residents, these convicts suffered intensely. In response, Tasan established a relief place called Kyŏmjewŏn and provided them with shelter and food. In another instance, when the building of the yamen was old and in need of repair, Tasan not only drew up plans to reconstruct the building but also researched all the necessary building materials in advance. Then he sent his men to log the timber in a day, and using the vehicles and pulleys he had devised, he had them transport the timber to the yamen. Thus he was able to save time and money, alleviating the trouble of the people. In criminal investigations he personally inspected crime scenes and brought the criminals to justice. He also made sure that no one was falsely accused of crimes he or she had not committed; in such instances he made sure that they were exonerated.

Tasan’s care for the people was not limited to these activities. In spite of his enormous workload, he found time to write Comprehensive Study of Smallpox (Magwa hoet’ong), which was designed to save children dying of smallpox. Because he had been a victim of smallpox when he was young and had later lost some of his children to it, Tasan was interested in finding a treatment for the disease. Tasan also presented a proposal on the government’s policy on agriculture in response to a royal decree. In November 1798 King Chŏngjo issued a decree that many books related to agriculture be gathered in order to commemorate the sixtieth anniversary of King Yŏngjo’s cultivation of the royal farm. In his proposal Tasan analyzed the following problems with agriculture:

In comparison with other areas, agriculture lacks three things: it is less respected than the study of scholars; it is less profitable than commerce; and it is less convenient than technology . . . Unless these three things are revised, even if the government pressures the people with lashes every day, agriculture cannot be promoted. Even though the science of agriculture is extremely sophisticated, it is carried out crudely. Because it is dealt with crudely, it requires hard work but brings little profit; and because it brings little profit despite hard work, it becomes less and less respected day after day. Because it becomes less and less respected, it naturally becomes much cruder, and these two elements, repeatedly working together in an adverse way, make the administration of agriculture drift away from its goal.

Following this analysis, Tasan proposed three remedies: first, make agriculture convenient (p’yŏnnong); second, make agriculture profitable (hunong); and third, make agriculture respected (sangnong).

Citing numerous cases of corruption and inefficiency in local administration in his book, he introduces a number of administrative reforms he carried out during his magistracy. Nevertheless, he was not a revolutionary; rather, he was a pragmatic visionary. In the preface to Admonitions, he said, The age of the sages has already passed away, and the influence of their teachings has declined; those who rule the people nowadays do not know how to shepherd the people. Instead, they are interested only in exploiting the people. In this respect Tasan was not unlike Confucius, who yearned for the sage rule of King Wen of the ancient Zhou dynasty. His approach exemplifies Confucius’s doctrines of generating the new by preserving the old. Reform for Tasan, then, was not necessarily replacing the old with the new; it could be just the opposite, replacing the new with the old.

In his view, the maladies of his time largely resulted from the distortion of visions and moral values in ancient social customs and institutions. His reforms were thus efforts to preserve or return to the original state of things. His dedication to the study of the classics, for instance, was a way to recover the original state of things or the teaching of the sage kings. This does not indicate, however, that Tasan was a blind follower of old customs and institutions. In fact, his extensive and profound knowledge of ancient ways prevented him from accepting them blindly. His statement on a controversial custom of a local district is a good example: Each district has so-called ordinances, which are customs handed down from old times. They may have been problematic even when they were first instituted, but they have been made worse because the magistrates have often revised them as they pleased, adding or eliminating statutes according to their own self-interest and exploiting the people. Therefore, laws of this kind, being too crude, obsolete, and arbitrary, cannot be enforced unless they are changed. This statement aptly reveals Tasan’s basic attitude toward reform, which is both conservative and radical at the same time.

Reading his preface, one senses a certain premonition that his admonitions will not be heeded. He laments the helplessness caused by his exile and the fact that he will be unable to realize his ideals for better government. This frustration and sadness are poignantly reflected in the title of his book, Mongmin simsŏ. Concluding his preface, he remarks: "What, then, made me decide to title my book ‘A Book from the Heart’ [simsŏ]? It was because my circumstances would not allow me to shepherd the people even though I desire this opportunity." This quiet resignation, attached to his indomitable spirit and idealism, appears to suggest that his book is an appeal, as well as an admonition, to all those who govern the people. It poignantly reflects the humaneness, benevolence, and genuine care for the people that he believed to be most essential for all those in public service.

1. Jade Hall: a nickname of the Office of Special Counselors (Hongmun’gwan). To serve as a royal counselor was deemed a great honor among the officials in the court.

2. A Korean poetic form.

3. Matteo Ricci (1552–1610) was an Italian Jesuit priest and one of the founding figures of the Jesuit mission in China. Proficient in the Chinese language, and established in the imperial court of Ming China, he associated with Chinese scholars and officials and transmitted Western knowledge to them.

4. Chinsan is the hometown of Yun Chich’ung, Tasan’s maternal cousin, who burned the memorial tablet of his mother to keep his faith in accordance with the teachings of the Catholic Church.

5. Censor General Sin Hŏnjo and Third Inspector Min Myŏnghyŏk.

6. A letter written on a scroll of silk explaining the situation of Catholic persecution taking place in Chosŏn, Korea, and thereby seeking help.

7. Sŏ was a major figure of the Old Doctrine Principle subfaction. When Tasan served as secret royal inspector, he had accused Sŏ of questionable dealings as governor of Kyŏnggi Province.

8. These are often called "one p’yo and two sŏ" (one treatise and two books), following the Korean pronunciation of their titles.

9. A famous archer of ancient China.

10. Pao Ding was a legendary butcher in the text of Zhuangzi (chapter 3). He once butchered an ox in the presence of Prince Wenhui. Having expert knowledge of the anatomy of the ox, he separated the flesh from the bones without damaging his knife. He never whetted his butcher knife for nineteen years, but it remained as sharp as it had been when it was first whetted because it always stayed away from the bones. Zhungazi indicates both the name of an ancient Chinese philosopher who lived around the fourth century B.C. during the Warring States Period and the text he wrote. Influenced by Laozi, his philosophy was deeply concerned with Dao (the Way of nature and the world). It is also skeptical and relativistic in making observations and judgments.

11. Shang Yang was a famous legalist and statesman of the Qin dynasty. The numerous reforms he initiated and developed helped the Qin conquer all of China.

12. This refers to the story of Bian He, a man of the Chu state. When he presented a jade to the king, the king would not believe him. When Bian He insisted that it was a genuine jade, he was tortured for deceiving the king. Nevertheless, he continued to maintain his claim until the jade was recognized by the king.

13. A great Confucian philosopher of Song China and the proponent of the metaphysical philosophy which maintains that the two primary forces called li and qi are behind the manifestation of all realities and the universe at large, constantly interacting with each other. This dualistic world view, combined with his contributions in making the Confucian canons of Four Books, was influential enough to become orthodox Confucianism, and Zhu Xi himself was revered as a sage not only in China but also in Korea.

14. John Milton, Paradise Lost 7:30. The quotation actually reads, Urania, and fit audience find, though few. It is possible to find a certain parallel between Tasan and Western poets like Dante or Milton, who had a brilliant career in the beginning and fell from power and great achievements later in life.

15. During the mid-Chosŏn period Neo-Confucianism came into full maturity with distinguished scholars like Yi Hwang, Yi I, and Ki Taesŭng. Though Zhu Xi maintained that the primary forces called li and qi were interdependent, he put more emphasis on the importance of li, which he related to principle or pattern or order, than qi, which