Joseon Scholars' Night Studies -- Reading the Private Lives of Scholars Through Unofficial Histories
Joseon scholars who memorized the Confucian classics and lived by propriety and righteousness. But when night fell, things were different. A humorous look at the human side of scholars as recorded in unofficial histories.
What Is Yasa (Unofficial History)?
There are two kinds of history.
Jeongsa (Official History) -- Records officially sanctioned by the king. Upright and solemn, where every figure is either virtuous or a villain.
Yasa (Unofficial History) -- Unofficial records that circulated among the common people. Within them live the things official history would never touch: scholars' blunders, aristocrats' embarrassments, and what happened after dark.
Today, we enter the world of unofficial history.
The First Story -- Composing Poetry on a Spring Night
During the mid-Joseon period, there was a student at Seonggyungwan (the royal academy). His name isn't recorded, so for convenience, let's call him Scholar Choi.
Scholar Choi had to submit a poem to his teacher every night. One spring evening, his friends tried to tempt him.
"I hear a new gisaeng house opened in Hyehwa-dong tonight. They say the gayageum playing there is exquisite."
Scholar Choi was firm.
"I am a man of learning. I cannot go to such a place."
Thirty minutes later, Scholar Choi was seated in the gisaeng house.
The next morning, he submitted the poem he'd written through the night to his teacher. The teacher read it and raised an eyebrow.
"Beneath the moonlight, a crimson skirt flutters Wherever fingertips brush, spring arrives One melody of the gayageum and I forget the passing years From where does this fragrance cling to me..."
The teacher looked up.
"Scholar Choi, where did you go last night?"
"...For a walk."
"For a spring night's walk, the fragrance is remarkably specific."
Shin Yun-bok's "Lovers Under the Moon" -- Secret rendezvous under moonlight. Such encounters were a staple subject of unofficial histories.
The Second Story -- The Testimony of a Folding Screen
This took place in a provincial town during the late Joseon period.
A newly appointed magistrate arrived at his post and was to spend his first night at the government office. The clerk inspecting the room's furnishings discovered a folding screen.
It had been left behind by the previous magistrate. Where landscapes of lotus flowers, cranes, and mountains should have been, rather explicit erotic paintings (chunhwa) were discreetly depicted.
The clerk cautiously reported to the new magistrate.
"Sir, the previous magistrate left a folding screen behind. How shall we dispose of it?"
The magistrate studied the screen at length.
"...Burn it."
"Yes, sir."
However, three months later, when a royal inspector visited the office, he spotted that very screen in the magistrate's room. It was standing right where it had always been.
The inspector asked.
"That screen...?"
The magistrate replied calmly.
"It appeared to have artistic value, so I'm preserving it. For the study of Joseon art history."
The Third Story -- The Relationship Between the Civil Exam and a Blanket
The civil service examination was every Joseon scholar's dream and terror.
A provincial scholar had finally made his way up to the capital, Hanyang, to sit for the exam. If only he could place first, his in-laws would stop looking at him sideways.
The night before the exam, he stayed at an inn. Boisterous noise from the next room continued until dawn. He couldn't sleep.
The next day at the examination hall, he began dozing off.
The examiner tapped his shoulder.
"Hey, scholar! Are you sleeping?"
The scholar jolted awake and answered.
"No, sir! I had my eyes closed and was deep in thought!"
"Then what have you been thinking about all this time?"
Still drowsy, the scholar answered honestly.
"...I was thinking about my blanket."
He failed the exam that year. But his descendants passed this story down like a family heirloom: "Our ancestor was an honest man, even at the exam hall."
A genre painting by Shin Yun-bok. Scenes featuring scholars and gisaeng like this one are frequent subjects in unofficial histories.
The Fourth Story -- A One-Line Memorial to the King
In the Joseon Dynasty, subjects could submit written petitions directly to the king. These were called sangso (memorials).
One day, a peculiar memorial arrived before King Yeongjo. It was only two lines long.
"Your humble servant reports: My wife is terrifying. What should I do?"
The court officials were aghast. A memorial was a document for discussing matters of state -- to submit such a thing was unthinkable.
But King Yeongjo smiled gently and issued his reply.
"We don't know either."
Whether this anecdote is true or not is debated among historians. But the very fact that such a story has been passed down for centuries may be proof that Joseon-era aristocrats weren't so different from us after all.
What Unofficial History Teaches Us
Reading official history, Joseon appears to be a solemn and morally upright nation.
Reading unofficial history, you see the people who lived within it.
A scholar who couldn't sleep at night, a magistrate who couldn't bring himself to burn a screen, an official afraid of his wife, a student who found poetry material at a gisaeng house.
People are much the same in every era.
By day they maintained their dignity, and by night they became human.
And those human moments, accumulated over time, become the real history.
This post is humor content reconstructed from historical records and oral unofficial histories. It may differ from historical fact.
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