The Memoirs of Lady Hyegyong by JaHyun Kim Haboush

Author:JaHyun Kim Haboush
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780520280489
Publisher: University of California Press

The Memoir of 1805

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The tragedy of the imo year (1762) is unparalleled. Early in pyŏngsin (1776) the late King [Chŏngjo], who was then still Crown Prince, sent a memorial to his grandfather, His Late Majesty King Yŏngjo, requesting the destruction of those portions of the Records of the Royal Secretariat [pertaining to that incident]. Once royal permission was obtained, those sections were washed away. The late King did this in filial affection; he was mortified that just anyone could read descriptions of the event in an atmosphere quite devoid of respect or solemnity.

Much time has elapsed. Those who know the details of the incident are growing fewer and fewer. This has provided ample opportunity to those who seek profit and enjoy wreaking havoc by twisting facts and fabricating rumors. Some have said, “Prince Sado had no illness. His Majesty did that to the Prince because he was deceived by calumnies against his son.” Others have said, “His Majesty could not possibly have conceived of doing that terrible thing by himself. It was his officials who led him to that horror.”

The late King was intelligent and clear-sighted. Though he was a child, he witnessed how the event developed, and so he was not deceived by these arguments. But lest he be perceived as wanting in filial devotion, he accepted far-fetched arguments about Prince Sado and the event of that year, refusing to distinguish true and false, right and wrong. Bearing a deep pain in his heart, he could not but be that way.

The late King Chŏngjo acted this way in unrequited affection for his father, but he knew the facts. It is different with the present King [Sunjo]. I feel that it is against heavenly principle and human affection that he, a grandson, be kept ignorant of an incident of such immense consequences, one involving his direct ancestor. He wanted to know of the incident, but his father, the late King, could not bring himself to speak of it to him in any detail. Now, who else would dare bring it up to him; who else even knows the intimate facts? When I am gone, there will be no one left who knows of it, and so the King will have no way of inquiring into it. To spare him this shameful ignorance, I have for some time wished to write of the incident from its beginnings to its very end and to present it to him, so that after reading it, he might destroy it.

Whenever I took up the brush, however, I could not bring myself to write about it. In this way, day after day passed. After countless adversities and misfortunes both public and private, my life seemed a frail thread about to break. I could not die without telling my grandson what I know of his ancestors; it would have been outside normal human sentiment. And so, resisting death and weeping blood, I wrote this record. Nevertheless, I omitted many things of which I could not bear to speak.

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