Historical background

Chŏng Yakyong, henceforth referred to by his nickname Tasan (다산, Tea Mountain, from the hill where he was exiled), was born in an eventful year. A terrible event took place in 1762: Crown Prince Sado (1735-1762), arguably a person with intellectual disability, was executed by his father, Yŏngjo (r. 1724-1776). His death set court parties against each other. The debates it fueled would eventually turn into violence, which claimed the lives of a considerable number of people over several decades. Chŏngjo, who succeeded Yŏngjo, was Sado’s son. Parties were divided according to their hostility towards, or pity for, the unfortunate Prince Sado. During Chŏngjo’s reign, these two political factions were known by two new terms: pyŏkp’a 僻派, the Intransigents, and sip’a 時派, the Expedients. The Intransigents were attached to principles rather than to the actual demands of their time, while the Expedients formed a more pragmatic party, with the main goal of meeting the needs of the moment, so much so that they were given the pejorative label of ‘opportunists’. The Intransigents approved of Sado’s death on the grounds of realism and raison d’État, while Chŏngjo put in place a moderate policy of appointing government officials from diverse backgrounds. Officials belonging to the Intransigents would therefore attack scholars open to the Christian religion.

The Expedients, troubled by Sado’s death, supported Chŏngjo’s tolerant policy; most of its members had embraced Christianity. The contrast between the two factions was insurmountable. Yet while political factions were now split along these two camps, scholars had been long since divided between Namin (남인, Southerners) and Noron (노론, the Old Learning). Among both Namin and Noron, some scholars took the side of the Intransigents, others of the Expedients.

Tasan and Yi Kigyŏng belonged to the same Namin faction. They knew each other well and had many common friends, but they parted ways when Tasan and his close friends joined the Expedients, while Yi Kigyŏng followed the Intransigents. The contrast was propmpted by religion: their friendship would be devastated in the process of Christianization of Chosŏn’s Korea.

Who was Tasan? Born into a family of learned Namin officials and benefiting from Chŏngjo’s policy of conciliation, he was admitted to Sungkyunkwan College (성균관) after passing the literary licentiate in 1783. Yi Kigyŏng joined the College in 1784. The two students, ranked first and second at the licentiate, were repeatedly noticed by Chŏngjo. Both obtained their doctorate in 1789. Out of 60 laureates, Tasan was ranked second and Kigyŏng fourth. They were accepted as civil servants upon recommendation of the State Council, and took the civil service examinations of the Royal Library (규장각, Kyujanggak). This was a selection process intended to form the public service elite. Many of Tasan’s friends would undergo the same process, and many of them would eventually show enmity towards him. As Tasan had briefly embraced Christianity in his youth, it was the plausible cause of their hostility.

In this paper, we will focus on how each of the two friends reacted to the emergence of the new religion in Chosŏn Korea. We will attempt to assess its impact on the evolution of their friendship. However, as Tasan’s writings are far more numerous than Kigyŏng’s, a closer focus will inevitably be on his point of view.

On August 22, 1810, from his cottage on Tea Mountain, the place of his long exile (1801-1818), Tasan addresses a text titled ‘Remonstrance’ to his eldest son. He alludes to the mistakes he made in choosing his friends (Chŏng Reference Chŏng2012: vol. IV, 25), unlike his ancestors:

Among those close friends, we read in his self-epitaph which indeed became an autobiography, Yi Kigyŏng is most often mentioned:

We may observe that, while Tasan recalls his first contact with Christianity, he devotes very few words to it. Who mentioned it to him? Yi Pyŏk. Where did he hear about it? On a boat. If we consider that this text was written in 1822, after Tasan had gone through the torments of interrogation, imprisonment, torture, and banishment, this statement is significant in its brevity. Yet Tasan must have repeatedly spoken of his early days in the Christian faith. He also recalled it in the epitaph for his younger brother, Chŏng Yakjŏn (1758-1816), with whom Tasan felt the deepest fraternal and intellectual affinity. This time, he provided more details:

This text describes Tasan’s state of mind after his first contact with Christianity: surprise and amazement. Is this surprise stemming from a thaumazein, a wonder? There is little room for doubt here, since Tasan himself asked for books on Christianity. We will see later what happened during the sinhae year. Intellectually, Tasan does not seem to see major clashes between Confucianism and Christianity, which was in accordance with the feeling of Western missionaries, unlike what the Roman Church would eventually decide. Tasan will elaborate on this point with great detail in his 1797 memorandum to the throne.

In the excerpt from the self-epitaph quoted above, Tasan mentions his student occupations at Sungkyunkwan and how he was repeatedly rewarded by Chŏngjo. The emphasis on these gifts seems to hint at possible jealousy from his fellow students, and particularly from Yi Kigyŏng. Finally, Tasan alludes to Yi Kigyŏng’s change of mind about Christianity. He seems to suggest that he is not fully convinced of the sincerity of Kigyŏng’s rejection of Christianity, which Kigyŏng based on the claim of superiority of Confucianism.

The incident with the Ministry of Justice in ŭlsa (1785)

For his part, Yi Kigyŏng inserts into a text an official document ascribed to a certain ‘Graduate Yi’: a report titled In defense of orthodoxy against heterodoxy (闢衛編, Pyŏkwip’yŏn) that related the circumstances of the arrival of Christianity into Chosŏn Korea and how a first circle of Christian scholars was discovered. From a remark at the beginning of this document we learn that Yi Kigyŏng was officially in charge of providing information concerning the Han River region. The document relates this event:

This scene reveals the involvement of Namin Expedient scholars in Catholicism. We also learn that the Ministry of Justice did not really take them seriously; at least, these young scholars who belong to government officials’ families were not prosecuted, as their participation was considered a youthful error. On the other hand, their host Kim Pŏmu was the only person imprisoned, partly because as a chungin he belonged to a lower social class, and partly because a lesson had to be given somehow. He died of the torture wounds two years later, and thus became the first Christian martyr of Chosŏn Korea, according to the Catholic Church in South Korea.

This event took place in the spring of 1785. While Yi Kigyŏng was aware of it, his bond with Tasan still seemed solid then. During the summer of 1785, Tasan often visited Yi Kigyŏng at his pavilion on the Han River, in the Yongsan area, to practice parallel prose, in which lines of four and six characters follow one another (Cho Reference Cho2004: 57). There he composed three poems in the sixth month of 1785, including the following, pervaded by friendship and peace before their relationship fell apart:

In the seventh month of 1785, Yi Pyŏk, harshly scolded by his father, renounced his Christian faith and died soon later. Through his learning, his personality, and family relationship by marriage, he was close to Tasan. Yi Pyŏk was in fact the brother of the wife of Chŏng Yaghyŏn, Tasan’s older brother. It was in this pavilion on the banks of the Han River that Tasan and Yi Kigyŏng must have talked about Christianity while they were preparing for their doctoral degree (Kim Reference Kim2018: 13). Indeed, according to a passage in Tasan’s self-epitaph, their meetings lasted from 1785 to 1787.

The Pan district meeting in chŏngmi (1787)

In the winter of 1787, a terrible event occurred. Namin scholars were meeting at the home of a certain Kim, near the Sungkyunkwan, to continue their study and religious service. If the 1785 meeting had been led by Yi Pyŏk, the following one was led by Yi Sŭnghun and Tasan. The meeting was discovered by Yi Kigyŏng. The event in itself was not dramatic, yet it prompted a clear break within Namin scholars (TCF 2019: 1391). A letter from Hong NaganFootnote ⁹ to Yi Kigyŏng, contained in the Defense of orthodoxy against heterodoxy (Kim Reference Kim1987: 461), mentions Kigyŏng, who, ‘in tears’, implores his friends to abandon heterodox books (邪書). Hong Nagan proposes to write a joint report to the government. In his reply, Yi Kigyŏng expresses his hesitation to denounce his close friends (至密之人) (ibid.). He prefers to beg them once again to abandon their faith. The correspondence clearly indicates that the main detractor is Hong Nagan, who nonetheless seems to need Yi Kigyŏng to accomplish his mission.

Meanwhile, Tasan has written to Yi Kigyŏng to tell him of the insomnia he is suffering from due to the anxiety he is beset with; he asks him not to divulge the story of the Pan district meeting. Yi Kigyŏng replies that he did not reveal the names of the participants, and urges him repeatedly to come to his senses.

As Tasan had feared, the meeting in the Pan district would be reported by Hong Nagan on the sheet of a royal examination (策文) on the seventh day of the first month of 1788. The topic was given by Chŏngjo:

The question correponds to the burning situation of the time. Chŏngjo was probably aware of the meeting in Pan. Hong, in his sheet, proposes to burn all books of heterodox content, lest they provoke unrest such as that caused by the Yellow Turbans or the White Lotus rebellion in China. He makes no difference between religious and scientific writings. Everything must be committed to the flames. He was ranked third. Tasan ranked secondFootnote ¹⁰, from which we can infer that Chŏngjo was oriented to protect Tasan from the attack of his fellow student Hong.

On the second month, 11^th day of 1788, King Chŏngjo, by his own brush, appointed Ch’ae Chegong, leader of the Namin faction, to the post of Right State Councilor (우의정, Uuijeong) of the State Council of Joseon. From then on, Chŏngjo’s government seemed to favor the Namin scholars. On the third month, tenth day of 1789, Tasan ranked second in the regular doctoral class (held every three years). Ten days later, he was recommended to the Royal Library by the State Council under the ‘oustanding officials’ program (抄啓文臣, ch’ogye munsin), along with Yi Kigyŏng and a few others. On the fifth month, 12^th day, Yi Kigyŏng replaced Tasan in the position he held as Deputy Secretary of the Privy Council. By then, their friendship had probably already started to fall apart. Chŏngjo, aware of their history, ranked Tasan second and Kigyŏng fourth at the doctorate, and in exchange had Kigyŏng replace Tasan at the Provy Council. Staging competition was part of Chŏngjo’s policy (Cho Reference Cho2016: 146).

In 1789, Ch’ae Chegong became Left State Councilor, while Kim Chongsu of the Norons replaced him as Right Chairman. These appointments reflected the same royal policy: favor mutual conciliation of factions by appointing them together.

1791: The sinhae judicial case

In the autumn of 1791 (sinhae), a major incident broke out in Jeolla province. It involved two scholars, Kwŏn Sangyŏn 權尙然 (?-1791, baptismal name Jacques) and Yun Chich’ung 尹持忠 (1759-1791, baptismal name Paul), who were cousins and were both born in Chinsan (珍山). Yun Chich’ung had become acquainted with Christianity through his maternal first cousin, Tasan, and was baptized in 1787 by Yi Sŭnghun. Yun Chich’ung then converted his mother, his brother, and his maternal first cousin, Kwŏn Sangyŏn. In 1790, though, the bishop of Beijing proclaimed a ban on ancestral rites. Yun burned the tablets in his house. In the summer of 1791, his mother died; following her last wishes, his son refused to carry out a Confucian burial, prompting anger among people around him. The news reached the Court. Chŏngjo tried to not give much importance to the matter, until the Noron Intransigent faction convinced him otherwise. The king then ordered an investigation, during which Yun Chich’ung and Kwŏn Sangyŏn refused to recant their faith, even under torture. Eventually they were beheaded. Later, the Catholic Church in Korea recognized them as the first martyrs among Korean nobility.

This incident was to be particularly damaging to Tasan’s career:

Tasan reports the strong words employed by Hong Nagan to forewarn the government about some of its scholar-officials. As we know, Chŏngjo had already read them in Hong Nagan’s sheet three years earlier. But rehashing a past is often futile. In response to a detailed report of the incident, Chŏngjo issues a remark which is not meant to please Hong Nagan and his accomplice:

In response to this incident, which Namin Intransigent scholars considered of great consequence because it undermined the state’s ideology, Chŏngjo’s words may have surprised many. According to the monarch, who was a staunch defender of ancient style writing, Christian books did not significantly differ in style from late Ming and early Qing literature. His lenient view is that to defuse heterodoxy, orthodoxy needs to be strengthened and refined. For him, this new heterodoxy can be equated to the forms of literary entertainment that plague literature at the time, such as popular novels. Is this what Chŏngjo really believed, or did he try to protect some of the scholars involved in the case, and particularly Tasan? We can hardly answer this question, but that is certainly the effect it had.

During an interrogation that followed the incident, Yi Sŭnghun, a close friend of Yi Kigyŏng, lies to get out of trouble. According to his claims, Kigyŏng slandered him:

Chŏngjo and Ch’ae Chegong, worried that this case might become a windfall for pursuing honest people, implemented a political strategy to shelter those who were denounced and to punish denigrators (Kim Reference Kim1987: 126). In this context, Yi Sŭnghun’s defense will be indulgently heard. Kigyŏng, who had just become a father, had lost his mother and was in mourning; he and Hong Nagan complained that their claims had not been taken more seriously:

This extract from his self-epitaph, in fact an apologetic autobiography, reveals an important aspect of Tasan’s character: his intolerance of injustice (Kim Reference Kim2018: 27). Yet we can observe another quality: his capacity to make logical predictions. He has a prophetic skill. However, his text was written after he had lived through all the events he reports; we might claim that he conveniently represented himself to the best of his advantage. At some point in his life, either for survival, political ambition, or benevolent curiosity, Tasan had gotten along with scholars from the opposite faction, the Intransigent Norons, including Sim Hwanji (Kim Reference Kim2018: 21-22). And although he was not a part of their party, they nonetheless appreciated him, especially for his subtle discernment of people’s minds (Kim Reference Kim2018: 21-23). This old bond saved his life in the judicial case of the sinyu year (1801). This may attest a talent for foresight, if not clairvoyance.

During Kigyŏng’s exile, Tasan provided financial support to his family. We have no information whether Kigyŏng felt gratitude or humiliation for this help. But Tasan mentions it as a way to attest his sincere friendship with Yi Kigyŏng.

In the fourth month of 1795, as Zhou Wenmo (1752-1801), the first foreign missionary to enter Korea, was exposed, Christians started to be harshly persecuted. Tasan was sent to the provinces. However, this was a royal act of courtesy, as the king wanted him to publicly prove his Confucian virtue in the same way others under his administration did, most of whom were already converted. He fully succeeded, and was widely appreciated by the population. Under these circumstances, on the tenth month, ninth day of 1795, Yi Kigyŏng sent a letter to Tasan. Apparently, Kigyŏng’s purpose is to ask Tasan to pay for his son’s wedding (Cho Reference Cho2016: 331), as though they were still close friends. Tasan is astonished to receive such a letter. His reply is translated in full.

Reply to Yi Kigyŏng’s letter, received on the tenth month, ninth day of 1795 in Kŭmjŏng:

1. 1) When I received your letter, I almost fainted. We have not cultivated our friendship as much as we could have; there is no reason to be upset about it. Yet you unexpectedly and abruptly write me now, without the slightest hint of embarrassment; and while I know that you mean well, what would others say?

2. 2) This is why even for you it looks strange; you are aware that this is all too forced. When things turn away from common sense, everything can have detrimental effects. In all that you have done in recent years, not only in one or two cases have you gone astray from common sense.

3. 3) Due to the fact that you overestimate yourself and dig too deep [into the businesses of others], when you have to deal with something [tangible], you have a hard time handling things. All of your troubles come from that.

4. 4) Those who do not know you well may believe that you have a peculiar mind; no one except me knows the source of your illness. This is why, each time I met Chun Bai or Ji Hua, I told them, ‘I have a friend suffering from a troubled mind, but no one else [but me] knows’.

5. 5) Today you sent me a letter asking news about me, and this was certainly well-intentioned. But it would have been appropriate for us to revive our relationship beforehand; you blatantly avoided this, and I have no way of knowing what might have happened to prompt it.

6. 6) It seems that, in your mind, you already consider yourself as an elderly man; nothing would bother you anymore, noble and aloof like the moon [behind] a Chinese paper umbrella, free and unrestrained like the wind blowing through the aspens… Did you really expect the same of me? I am so narrow-minded that I am not up for the challenge. Neither are you, I am afraid.

7. 7) Since we are not up for it, it would have been proper to exchange a few words beforehand. But even if you were not holding any ill will against me, and if we were able to get along well from now on, and see each other as we used to, everyone would still go around spreading gossips, whispering that we have patched things up and pretended we forgot our old grudges. Even if I held no ill will, no one would believe it. You and I would be the laughing stock of the world, so casually befriending each other and splitting up [in fact, running after our own interests], as if we were in a market square. We could hardly avoid slander either – putting on a smile for all to see, but being mutually resentful behind closed doors. Have you not considered this?

8. 8) We both have regrets. Ah, how fitting is this passage from Yuanliang’s fu poem ‘Return Home’ [歸去來兮辭]Footnote ¹⁶: ‘Understand that [the mistakes of] the past cannot be amended, but if you look at the future you can find your right way’ (悟已往之不諫, 知來者之可追)! Once, I was a young man, just like you. Our hot blood had not yet calmed down, our paws were restless. But as for what has happened, what is the point in asking more questions?

9. 9) And yet, if you could remove the thick veil covering your heart, if you could enjoy the landscape before your eyes, if you could fervently devote yourself to the study of Sacred Canons and Sages’ Commentaries (聖經賢傳), if your body and soul could joyfully return to a sincere and modest world, then your mind would gradually calm down, your happiness would grow day after day, and you would naturally experience those moments of joy when everything is in its right place.

10. 10) Instead, if you only abide by your desires to reach your aims, you will not be trusted when you speak and things will not conform [to your desire] when you act. At the end of the day, you will not escape the shame of being denigrated and blamed. Be careful and vigilant. If we waste our time to no purpose, if we mistrust each other and if we daunt each other, we will hardly preserve our friendship – could we not dread it?

11. 11) With the imposition of the threeFootnote ¹⁷ bonnets [三加] on your handsome heir approaching, you really have something to look forward to. Rituals are nowadays conceived as either too ceremonious or not ceremonious enough. We have the protocol bequeathed by the Lake of Stars (星湖, Seongho), why would you ever wish to neglect propriety? (Chŏng Reference Chŏng2012: vol. IV, 84-85)

In the first paragraph, Tasan voices his astonishment at receiving and reading this letter. He has a hard time understanding this gesture. He wonders how he should understand it. Indeed, the whole letter displays clearly ambivalent feelings towards Yi Kigyŏng. Tasan writes about both good and bad memories, the bad ones being about public reputation. Tasan, loyal in friendship with his dear ones, is not fully at ease when it comes to Yi Kigyŏng.

In the second paragraph, Tasan disapproves of his correspondent’s lack of genuineness. His tone is peremptory. And yet, Kigyŏng was older than Tasan by six years – a significant gap in Confucian society. Tasan is aware that his sharp tone may annoy Kigyŏng. Yet he does not stop. In the third paragraph, he elaborates on the causes of Kigyŏng’s illness: pride, self-esteem, and narcissism. Too high an opinion of himself prevents Yi Kigyŏng from doubting himself and the ideas he has about others. Tasan has also suffered from Yi’s attitude. In the following paragraph, he takes his discourse one step further: Yi Kigyŏng is definitely suffering from a mental problem, as we would call it. If we try to empathize with a scholar formerly ranked fourth in his doctoral class, we can imagine how difficult it would be for Kigyŏng to control his temper when he read this.

So, in the fifth paragraph, Tasan, out of kindness, softens his tone. He regrets that Kigyŏng cut ties between them, old friends. It is here that the ambivalence of their relationship appears. The sixth paragraph consists of a rather long sentence. A metaphor, tinged with irony: Tasan concludes that, for all their differences, they essentially share the same state. Alas, this common state – resentment – does not bring them any closer. Yet the first paragraph suggested that their friendship could have had a better outcome. Maybe this failure is the source of their resentment. Hence the ambivalence, regret, and mutual blame for aborting what could have been much nobler. In the seventh paragraph, Tasan refers again to the public’s gaze and its importance. Their friendship would no longer be approved of by their friends and acquaintances. We observe how important external looks are to him: other people have to validate their friendship; and he assumes that Kigyŏng feels the same. The eighth paragraph alludes to mutual regret. Tasan continues to swing between distant and recent past. This fluctuation of the heart belongs to his temperament.

Then, Tasan provides his prescription to cure him of his deep-seated illness. This therapy comprises, in a handful of powerful words, the entire Confucian curriculum. No reference is made to other sources. We could rightfully claim that his discourse is meant to show that he no longer entertains reprehensible ties with that awkward Western heterodoxy. We might also wonder whether some intellectual pride is on display as well: had Tasan not reached a deeper understanding of the Confucian curriculum than his recipient? Had he not obtained higher grades in the royal examinations, despite his interest in ‘other (unfortunate) things’? Between the lines, Tasan suggests that Kigyŏng failed to draw significant benefits from all his studies. Kigyŏng is the older one, yet has no lessons to teach him – nor has Tasan, the younger, anything to receive from him. At the end of this letter, Tasan warns Kigyŏng of the pernicious effects of dismissing his recommendations. However, after rebuking his former friend in a peremptory tone throughout the letter, he ends it with an encouraging tone. The reference to the ritualistic work of Yi Ik, also known by the name of Lake of Stars (星湖, Seongho), should be noted. It alludes to their common past, where good memories and friendship still lie.

Unfortunately, Yi Kigyŏng’s reply, if any, has not come down to us. Tasan makes no mention of it. Yet, two years later, Tasan received another letter from Yi Kigyŏng, which extensively focuses on cut ties. Decidedly, Kigyŏng appears as an inconstant, impulsive, and obsessive man. We do not know whether his odd behavior was guided by a noble principle or by self-interest. Tasan seemed to lean towards the second hypothesis.

Despite Tasan’s steady efforts to be cleared of his Christian past, notably through a long memoir he wrote in 1797, eloquent enough to move Chŏngjo, and by recurrently renouncing the duties he was assigned by the monarch, the attacks led by Yi Kigyŏng and Hong Nagan kept strengthening. By 1801, Chŏngjo was no longer there to protect Tasan. Hong and Yi launched a final assault on him:

This last sentence reveals Tasan’s idea of friendship: even in enmity, friendship still means hoping for the friend’s best. Tasan will eventually survive this murderous trial; unlike most of his companions, who lost their lives, he was banished for a long time (1801-1818). During these 17 years, several attempts were made to free him. Yi Kigyŏng would always oppose them. Incidentally, his life was not easy either. Due to his ‘hard’ character, he was often banished from the court. However, he would always be admitted back as the court was filled with his own people, the Intransigents.

The friendship between Tasan and Yi Kigyŏng evolved alongside historical events. At first glance, their enmity might be explained through their attitudes towards Christianity. However, the Intransigents’ priority had always been to prevent the Expedients from controlling the Court; considering that most of the Expedients had adopted this religion, we can easily conclude that the Intransigents saw Christianity as an excellent opportunity, indeed a golden pretext, for them to prevail. Did Tasan abjure his faith out of strategy, conviction, or both – considering that by the time the Chinsan incident took place (1791), the state would not tolerate a religion forbidding ancestral rites? Perhaps he actually came to consider it as an enemy, as we read in his 1797 memoir to the King. Not everyone believed the sincerity of this claim. On the other hand, each time Yi Kigyŏng wrote to Tasan with a proposal, it was out of necessity and the attempt to get back in his own camp’s good graces. Did he ever aspire to a noble friendship, or really seek a solid support from his friend? Hong Nagan, as we have seen, joined him out of interest. Yet Tasan wished he could have remained a faithful friend, with the same fidelity he had for his dear ones. Tasan’s principle in friendship was: ‘An old friend, we do not let him down, whatever his faults’ (Chŏng Reference Chŏng2012: 255) – an adage from the Book of Rites, quoted by Tasan in his self-epitaph with reference to Kigyŏng.