Summary
- Many Koreans today believe that Classical Chinese (漢文, 한문) is foreign and “un-Korean.”
- To overcome this misconception, I have found it very helpful to point out that Korean independence activists frequently wrote in the language.
Introduction
Whenever I mention to other Koreans that one of my hobbies is to read Classical Chinese (漢文, 한문), their initial reaction is astonishment that a “Gyopo” (在美僑胞, 재미교포) would and could take up such a hobby. Their next reaction is their opinions about the role of Classical Chinese in Korean culture and history. These opinions vary and can be grouped into three groups ranging from positive to negative. The first have a very high and fond view of Classical Chinese, appreciating its importance in just about anything traditionally Korean from art to philosophy. The second is reluctant acceptance, recognizing its use in Korean history and the fact that Sino-Korean words account for a large part of the Korean vocabulary today. The third is quite acerbic, and derides that the language is a symbol of servility to China (事大主義, 사대주의), disparage that it is elitist, and insinuate that it is somehow not “authentically” Korean going to great depths to disassociate Korea from whatever they perceive to be “Chinese.”
Though recent opinions seem to be shifting toward the first two groups, many of my interactions have been in the third, and unfortunately they are the most vociferous. For a people whose flag is laden with symbols that originate from China, namely the blue and red Yin-Yang (靑紅陰陽, 청홍음양) and four tetragrams (四卦, 사괘), I have found this view at times utterly baffling. Koreans are quite proud of their other traditional customs. Even Korean-Americans partake in various Korean cultural activities from martial arts to Samulnori (四物–, 사물놀이). While there is an understandable desirable to be independent of China, this disdain is ultimately detrimental to the grand patrimony of Korean culture. Classical Chinese literature by Korean authors is perhaps one of Korea’s most under-appreciated treasures. In trying to persuade fellow Koreans on the “Korean-ness” of Classical Chinese, I have found it especially helpful to point out that: (1) widespread knowledge of Classical Chinese is a lot more recent than most believe and (2) there is a breadth of Classical Chinese literature from Korean independence activists. The primary focus of this post will be on the latter. But first, some background.
The Hangul Narrative
The Proper Sounds of the Eastern Country (東國正韻, 동국정운). Published in 1448, it was a Chinese Character dictionary, and one of the first works using Hangul.
The following narrative about Hangul (한글) is widely believed among Koreans today. Originally, Koreans used Chinese characters — presumably imposed on them by the Chinese — to write down their feelings and thoughts. Commoners found the script too difficult to learn. Then, in the 15th century, King Sejong (世宗, 세종, 1397-1450, r. 1418-1450) created Hangul, intending to completely replace Chinese characters. The haughty aristocracy, however, continued to use Chinese characters and purposefully kept commoners illiterate until the late 19th century, when reformers finally overthrew the foreign script and declared Hangul the national script.
I do not deny the creation of Hangul was a momentous event in Korean history. There are, however, several factual issues with this narrative. The most problematic is the claim that King Sejong created Hangul to completely replace Chinese Characters. Although King Sejong explicitly stated in the Proper Sounds for the Instruction of the People (訓民正音, 훈민정음) that he created Hangul for the benefit of commoners, he likely did not intend to supplant Classical Chinese, but supplement it. It can be readily recognized that Hangul was designed to transcribe pronunciation of Chinese Characters. Hangul is laid out in blocks. Each block represents one syllable, and can correspond to the pronunciation of one Chinese character (e.g., 한 for 韓). Most strikingly, the original script as promulgated by King Sejong provided for consonants and vowels that were never present in Korean, but in vernacular forms of Chinese at that time. Also, one of the first uses of Hangul was to teach — or if one takes a cynical point of view, propagandize — the Korean populace with Confucian tenets. The Chosun dynasty government and Confucian scholars published books with parallel Classical Chinese and vernacular Korean translations in Hangul, some of them in mixed script.
Widespread Knowledge of Classical Chinese in 20th Century Korea
Classical Chinese poetry submission section in the Mar. 23, 1959 edition of the Kyunghyang Shinmun (京鄕新聞, 경향신문).
Furthermore, Classical Chinese did not die out suddenly in the late 19th century. Most Koreans today when they picture Classical Chinese think of men of the Chosun Dynasty dressed in traditional Hanbok garb. This is not surprising, because their most likely exposure today is from historical dramas (史劇, 사극), in which characters from that time period cite lines from various Chinese classics. They do not imagine the script being used along the side of the advent of modern conveniences such as electricity, running water, and automobiles with men and women in western attire. Contrary to the popular belief, widespread knowledge of Classical Chinese in Korea lasted much more recently. In fact, Classical Chinese was very well alive in early 20th century Korea. (I would not be surprised if Classical Chinese literacy actually peaked during this time period.) Here are some stark facts:
- A number of Classical Chinese translations of the folk story Tale of Chunhyang (春香傳, 춘향전) were published during the Japanese colonial period (1905-1945). Translations of other folk tales as well as wholly new novels also came out during the same period.
- The last Korean head of state with a Classical Chinese poetry collection is not Emperor Gojong (高宗, 고종, 1852-1919, r. 1863-1907) or Emperor Sunjong (純宗, 순종, 1874-1926, r. 1907-1910), but President Rhee Syngman (李承晩, 이승만, 1875-1965), the first President of South Korea.
- Korean newspapers regularly printed Classical Chinese poetry submission sections well into the latter half of the 20th century. The newspaper clip above is a poem composed by Korean National Assembly member Jeong Jaewan (鄭在浣, 정재완, 1900-1967?), expressing his scorn for other assembly members’ avarice.
- (On a more familial note, we have a Classical Chinese poem at my parents’ house that was composed by one of my grandparents’ friends during the late 1980s.)
Classical Chinese of the Korean Independence Activists
In tandem with this widespread knowledge, Korean independence activists looked to Classical Chinese poetry written by Koreans from past generations to find inspiration from them. Kim Gu (金九, 김구, 1876-1949), known by almost every Korean schoolchild as the father of the Korean Independence Movement, loved reciting the following poem throughout his life. One story states that he recited it as he was crossing across the 38th Parallel to meet with delegates in North Korea. It was written by Hyujeong Seosandaesa (休靜 西山大師, 휴정 서산대사, 1520-1604), a Buddhist monk and a leader of an irregular army (義兵, 의병), who fought against the Japanese during the Japanese Invasions of 1592-1598 (壬辰倭亂, 임진왜란).
踏雪野中去 답설야중거
不須胡亂行 불수호란행
今日我行蹟 금일아행적
遂作後人程 수작후인정
Stepping upon the snow in the middle of a field, I depart.
I ought not haphazardly and recklessly travel:
The footprints of my travel today
In the end will become mileposts for those after.
Numerous other Korean Independence activists also composed original Classical Chinese prose and poetry expressing their yearning for a liberated Korea. Many of them had been educated in Classical Chinese at Confucian village schools (書堂, 서당). These schools played such a vital role in fomenting Korean patriotic sentiment that the Japanese colonial administration heavily restricted their activities starting in 1918, and had almost all of them closed by 1930.
Ahn Junggeun
Ahn Junggeun (安重根, 안중근, 1879-1910) is famous for having assassinated Ito Hirobumi (伊藤博文, 1864-1909), the first resident general of the Japanese colonial administration in Korea. He was immediately arrested, tried, and sentenced to execution. Like Kim Gu, most if not all Korean children know about his feats. What many Koreans today, however, do not know is his aptitude in Classical Chinese. In fact, after he was jailed and waiting to be executed, he wrote much in the language. His prison diary and autobiography (安重根義士自敍傳, 안중근의사자서전) is entirely in Classical Chinese. In addition, Ahn Junggeun strongly advocated for Pan-Asianism, and dedicated much of his time in jail in writing An Essay on Peace in East Asia (東洋平和論, 동양평화론), which he was unable to complete. He also wrote poetry on the subject:
東洋大勢思杳玄 동양대세사묘현
有志男兒豈安眠 유지남아기안면
和局未成猶慷慨 화국미성유강개
政略不改眞可憐 정략불개진가련
Concerning the grand scheme in East Asia, I have pondered widely and profoundly.
Having the will, how can a man peacefully sleep?
As a peaceful state has not yet been achieved, I am still indignant and incensed.
Political tactics have not changed; it is truly pitiful.
Yun Bonggil
Another household name Korean independence activist is Yun Bonggil (尹奉吉, 윤봉길, 1908-1932). He is famous for lobbing a lunchbox bomb at a group of Japanese military officials gathered in Hongkou Park (虹口公園, 홍구공원), Shanghai (上海, 상해) for the celebration of the Japanese Emperor’s birthday. The attack killed Yoshinori Shirakawa (白川義則, 1869-1932), who had lead the Shanghai Expeditionary Army in taking over Shanghai earlier that year, and injured several others. Again, what most Koreans do not know is that in response to the March 1st Movement (三一運動, 삼일운동) he left a public school run by the Japanese colonial administration and entered a Confucian village school named Ochiseosuk (烏峙書塾, 오치서숙). There, he studied Classical Chinese — to quite a high proficiency. He also composed more than 300 Classical Chinese poems before his execution by firing squad at the age of 24.
路上有感唫 로상유감금
Recitation on Thoughts While on the Road
野禾半熟碧黃連 야화반숙벽황연
爭啄群禽盡向前 쟁탁군금진향전
西風忽捲千峯雨 서풍홀권천봉우
午熱猶蒸萬巷烟 오열유증만항연
最恨索租添白地 최한삭조첨백지
那能絶粒上靑天 나능절립상청천
眼看山川多奇麗 안간산천다기려
邦基回泰理將然 방기회태리장연
The rice on the field are half-ripe, interspersed with green and yellow.
Fighting and pecking, a group of birds all face forward.
The west wind suddenly breaks the rain from the thousand peaks;
The noon heat still swelters the smoke of ten-thousand hamlets.
Most resentful are the straws and unhusked grains added upon the white grounds;
How can a severed grain rise up to the blue skies?
My eyes see mountains and streams, with much awe and beauty.
This country’s foundations shall return to grandeur surely in the future!
- 白地(백지) – Literally “white grounds.” Refers to land unsuitable for farming.
Hwang Hyeon
Moving onto authors of less fame but of equal importance to the Korean independence movement is Hwang Hyeon (黃玹, 황현, 1855-1910). His primary contributions to the movement are his historical accounts, published as The Unofficial Records of Maecheon (梅泉野錄, 매천야록), detailing the the current state of affairs toward the end of the Chosun dynasty. (On a related noted, he was adamantly against abolishing Classical Chinese as an official script.) Hwang Hyeon devoted himself to studying Chinese classics and became so renowned for his knowledge of the language both prose and poetry that he is considered one of the Four Great Masters (四大家, 4대가) of Classical Chinese of the late Chosun Dynasty (舊韓末, 구한말). Many of his poems reference events to not only Korean history but also Chinese history. It should be noted that Korea had never been entirely conquered, stripped completely of its independence, prior to the annexation by Japan. In contrast, China had been conquered by foreign peoples a number of times, such as the Turks, Mongols, and the Manchus. Because of this, many Korean independence activists looked to Chinese history and drew parallels. This is apparent in Hwang Hyeon’s suicide poem, which he composed shortly after Japan had annexed Korea. The third and last stanza of the poem appear below.
絶命詩 절명시
a Suicide Poem
鳥獸哀鳴海岳嚬 조금애명해악빈
槿花世界己沉淪 근화세계기침륜
秋鐙揜卷懷千古 추등엄권회천고
難作人間識字人 난작인간식자인
The birds and beasts tristfully cry; the seas and mountains cringe.
The hibiscus flowers on this earth have already become flooded and sunken.
The Autumn lamp hides the volumes encompassing thousands of ancients.
Difficult it is to make mankind into literate men.
曾無支厦半椽功 증무지하반연공
只是成仁不是忠 지시성인불시충
止意僅能追尹穀 지의근능추윤곡
當時愧不攝陣東 당시괴불섭진동
Earlier, I did not support the house with even half a rafter’s merit.
I have only achieved benevolence, but not loyalty.
Ending my will, I was just only able to follow Yun Gok (尹穀, 윤곡).
At this time, I am ashamed to not have caught up with Jin Dong (陣東, 진동).
- Yun Gok and Jin Dong both refer to figures from the Song dynasty (宋, 송, 960-1279) during the Mongol invasions of China. Their names in Mandarin are Yin Gu and Zhen Dong respectively. After Tancheng (潭城, 담성, Damseong) fell during a siege, in despair, Yin Gu decided to kill his family and commit suicide by self-immolation. Zhen Dong was a Song Dynasty literati bureaucrat who strongly pleaded with the King that six disloyal subjects should be all sentenced to death. In the end, he was sentenced to death by beheading.
Kim Taekyeong
Another lesser known is Kim Taekyeong (金澤榮, 김택영, 1850-1927). He was a friend of Hwang Hyeon, and was also one of the Great Masters of Classical Chinese in the late Chosun dynasty period. After the Japanese annexation, Kim Taekyeong fled to Nantong (南通, 남통). There, he compiled works on Korean history and Classical Chinese literature by Korean authors. He became acquainted with many Chinese intellectuals such as Liang Qichao (梁啓超, 양계초, 1873-1929) and Zhang Binglin (章炳麟, 장병린, 1868-1936). Kim Taekyeong was also a very skilled Classical Chinese poet. He particularly enjoyed writing a form known as Songs of Chu (楚辭, 초사). This form is attributed to the famous Chinese poet Qu Yuan (屈原, 굴원, 343-278BC) and marked by the character 兮(혜) in the middle of every line. Qu Yuan was a Chinese official, who committed suicide by drowning in the Miluo River (汨羅江, 몰라강) after having learned that the State of Chu (楚, 초) had capitulated. He is viewed as a role model patriot in China. Kim Taekyong was so renowned for his Songs of Chu poetry that he was called the “Korean Qu Yuan” (韓國屈原, 한국굴원) by Chinese intellectuals. The most famous of his poems is Ohobu (嗚呼賦, 오호부), which he composed in grief over loss of Korean independence. The last and penultimate stanzas have been translated below:
嗚呼賦 오호부
Lamentation Song
光化之鐘兮, 何人于夕
관화지종혜, 하인우석
箕子之神兮, 何族于食
기자지신혜, 하족우식
嗚呼! 哀哉! 已矣兮
오호! 애재! 이의혜
吾其無如鬼而無如天
오기무여귀이무여천
O, the bells of Gwanghwamun (光化門, 광화문), what person will toll it at night?
O, the ancestral tablet of Gija (箕子, 기자), what people will offer oblations of food?
Alas, how sad the situation is! It is all over!
How have we not spirits and have we not Heaven?
獨祖宗之崇儒兮, 其終也得一義士安重根
독조종지숭유혜, 기종야득일의사안중근
彼生氣之凜然兮, 孰云國之盡圮
피생기지름연혜, 숙운국지진비
庶英靈顧我兮, 搴秋蘭以竢乎江之涘
서영령고아혜, 건추란이사호간지애
O, only our ancestors’ revered Confucianism.
In the end, we received a righteous man, Ahn Junggeun.
O, his vivacity was dashing and gallant.
Who will say that our country is totally lost?
Several heroic souls gaze back at us.
Pick out an autumn orchid to wait at the banks of the river.
Yu Inshik
Yu Inshik (柳寅植, 유인식, 1865-1928) is also a lesser known figure. During the protectorate period from 1905 to 1910, Yu Inshik gathered Confucian scholars to found a modern private school. After the annexation, in 1910 he fled to Liaodong peninsula (遼東, 요동) to join Korean independence activists, but returned to Korea in 1913 to participate in activities there. He was one of the founders of the Shinganhoe (新幹會, 신간회), a group which attempted to unify Korean nationalists and socialists for the cause of independence. Yu Inshik was a socialist and participated in labor movements. He also was a Classical Chinese scholar and wrote about the history of Classical Chinese poetry in Korea titled History of Poetry in the Great East (大東詩史, 대동시사). In the poem below, he expresses his wishes for unity among all groups. The third and eight stanza are presented below.
此夜寒十絶 차야한십절
This Night is Cold, Ten Stanzas
海外同胞此夜寒 해외동파차야한
六洲風雨張空拳 륙주풍우장공권
由來時勢英雄造 유래시세영웅조
民國元年朝日鮮 민국원년조일선
To countrymen overseas, this night is cold!
On the six continents, the wind and rain extend to empty fists.
History and the current state of affairs, heroes make.
In the first year of our republic, the morning sun is bright.
勞動諸君此夜寒 로동제군차야한
氷程雪海走如丸 빙정설해주여환
四千餘載神明族 사천여재신명족
何忍呻吟異種鞭 하인신음이종편
To all you laborers, this night is cold!
The icy roads and snowy seas run like pellets.
Four thousand or so years is our divine race.
How can we groan at the lashes of another kind?
Conclusion
There is a tendency among many, not all, Koreans today to scoff at anything that appears “Chinese” in Korean culture. The underlying reason is that they wish distinguish Korea as unique from its neighbors and Korea’s writing system is one of the most visible forms of uniqueness. This is understandable, but misguided as it jettisons much of Korean patrimony. The way to approach this thinking is to present Classical Chinese as not a “threat” to Korean identity, but as an inherent part of it. I have found it quite helpful in persuading others to show that many Korean independence activists wrote in Classical Chinese to overcome. The ones in this post are only just a few of the many Korean independence activists that wrote in Classical Chinese, and they are not atypical. Two of the poets named are household names in Korea. There are many, many more that I did not cover. If Korean independence activists, many of whom are universally revered, had no problems using the script, why should we have such an issue with it today?
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