King Yeongjo's defining moment

By Kyung Moon Hwang

It has been remarked that the only top political leader in Korea who remained in power longer than Kim Il-sung, who commanded North Korea for nearly 50 years, was King Yeongjo, whose reign in the 18th century, from 1724 to 1776, actually passed the half-century mark.

Like Kim, Yeongjo’s long tenure allowed him to amass tremendous power. And he used this authority to advance a wide range of policies and practices that most scholars agree benefitted the Joseon Kingdom, which achieved a cultural peak amid political stability under his rule.

In the end, however, Yeongjo is most remembered for a family tragedy in which he played the leading role: His shocking execution of his own son, and in a manner that still elicits an unshakable sadness and bewilderment. Most Koreans eventually learn this story of Crown Prince Sado (Sado Seja) being forced into a rice chest, which was then sealed shut to ensure that he would wither away after several days.

Not surprisingly, this remarkable event has often been captured in the popular imagination, such as through television dramas that have replayed this excruciating moment in different ways. And now comes a much anticipated movie by director Lee Joon-ik and starring no less than the great actor Song Gang-ho in the leading role.

I have not seen the film yet, but the reviews indicate that this particular retelling of “history’s most tragic family incident” focuses on the troubled personal relationship between father and son, who happened also to be the country’s monarch and his heir to the throne.

In the Joseon monarchy, the effects of even the most private family matters extended to the country as a whole, at times shaking the very foundation of the country’s political system. This was why disputes over kingly succession often resulted in violence and crises that engulfed the government and society. But until the execution of Sado, there had not been an incident in which the crown prince himself was not only demoted or punished, but killed by the same governing order led by his father.

People have long wondered what really triggered such a shocking event. Was the prince’s unpredictable behavior, which admittedly was severe, indeed a menace to the entire country? Further, why did King Yeongjo feel the need to kill his son instead of confining him, for example, in exile?

And why would Yeongjo choose such a gruesome, unbearably drawn-out manner of execution, as if he wanted to prolong his son’s suffering? How could this possibly have been the action of a sagely monarch, which Yeongjo strived to be and is generally credited as having been?

These are just some of the mysteries behind this incident. And the answers, to varying degrees of believability, can be deduced from a number of documentary sources. They range from official government records, which hint at the deep-seated problems between father and son and political considerations that went into this decision, to personal observations that recount the incident in the context of family relations.

The most famous unofficial account is “Hanjungnok,” the autobiography of the doomed prince’s wife, Lady Hong. Her narrative tries as deftly as possible to explain how her husband went from being a strapping young man with tremendous promise to a deeply disturbed victim of mental illness.

Prince Sado’s reckless killing of his servants and others around him made his conduct an urgent issue demanding a stern response. King Yeongjo, approaching 70 years of age, had to consider how the Yi monarchy itself could continue following his own passing.

And Yeongjo’s decision to have his dangerous son killed probably stemmed from a concern that, short of a grim solution, the possibility of Sado’s assuming power could remain a looming threat, perhaps even to Yeongjo’s own reign and life.

Or perhaps Yeongjo was driven to this extreme action by political circumstances stemming from bitter rivalries among his officials, which understandably became the foremost “conspiracy theory,” as reflected in Yi In-hwa’s novel, “Eternal Empire” (Yeongwon-han jeguk). This story is actually set in the final days (one day, actually) of Yeongjo’s grandson and successor, King Jeongjo, who was the son of Prince Sado.

As a child of around 10, Jeongjo had to live through this horrific event in which his father was killed by his own grandfather. So as he ascended to the throne in 1776 in his mid-20s, Jeongjo had to abide by his formal loyalty to his preceding king and grandfather while muting what must have been unbearable personal torment and enormous resentment.

It is a wonder that Jeongjo did not fall victim to trauma and start to act erratically and dangerously himself, unleashing a torrent of rage while being consumed by a thirst for vengeance. But indeed, Jeongjo in his quarter-century of rule seems to have prioritized the path of steady reform amid stability that had characterized his grandfather’s reign.

He also, however, gradually rehabilitated his father’s name and standing. In 1795, after nearly two decades on the throne, and in celebration of the 60th birthdays of both his parents, Jeongjo led a lavish procession from Seoul to Suwon, to where he had moved his father’s gravesite. There, a grand monument to his father was under construction: the Hwaseong Fortress that still today serves as a reminder of that extraordinary moment in history.

Kyung Moon Hwang is associate professor in the Department of History, University of Southern California. He is the author of “A History of Korea ― An Episodic Narrative” (Palgrave Macmillan, 2010). The Korean translation was published as 황경문, “맥락으로 읽는 새로운 한국사” (21세기 북스, 2011).