The Diary of 1636: The Second Manchu Invasion of Korea

The Diary of 1636 is a firsthand account of the short but devastating Qing invasion of Korea that would permanently alter the geopolitical landscape of Northeast Asia and Chosŏn Koreans' self-identity. Its author was the scholar-official Na Man'gap, who documented the daily progression of the invasion from inside the Namhan Mountain Fortress, for the most part taking up the role of a "quiet observer" (xxiv). These daily records make up one section of a set of eight texts by Na known in Korea as Pyŏngjarok, translated into English by Kallander as The Diary of 1636. The book contains detailed annotations as well as a comprehensive and insightful introduction that maps out the contexts in which Na's writings should be read: Na's personal and professional life, the dynamics of court politics, and the geopolitical dynamics of the region in the aftermath of the Hideyoshi invasions and the first Manchu invasion of 1627.As Kallander explains in his introduction, each section was written at different points in relation to the key events that took place in the winter months of 1636–37. The diary as a whole therefore serves multiple purposes and moves through various modes of narration. In the first half, it functions as daily record, while in its later sections it also functions as hagiography, retrospection, and often thinly veiled critique. The first section, "Early Complications," reads as an enumeration of all the slights, minor and major, by Chosŏn officials against the Manchu. The real "heart of the diary," as Kallander puts it (xxiii), is the second section, "Daily Records after Urgent Reports from the Frontier," in which Na's writerly persona as a "quiet observer" allows for the vivid unfolding of day-to-day developments. On most days, Na writes of his frustration, disapproval, and at times, helplessness. On other days, he finds nothing worth noting, writing simply that "there was no real action" (28). Na's account makes clear that diplomatic letters were considered key instruments of military and diplomatic strategy, and arguments spanning over several entries reveals how much time officials spent clashing over the content and wording of King Injo's replies to Hung Taiji. These daily entries come to a close with a conversation between Na and Crown Prince Sohyŏn as he set out for Shenyang (Mukden) where he was to be held hostage.The following sections, based on information about incidents outside the fortress that Na had heard or read about after the war, were most likely written while he was in exile after having become embroiled in factional conflicts plaguing the court. Kallander's introduction is especially useful for understanding how Na's shifting position throughout his life in relation to political circles of power is reflected in the shifts in tone throughout the eight sections of the diary. By the time he wrote the later sections, he was an outsider to those circles that he had been a part of and thus "had the freedom to explore events without fear of political retribution" (xv). As Kallander helpfully points out, loyalty is as a critical lens through which Na interprets the events of the war. In the third section, "Record of Loyalists Everywhere," he relates the successes and failures of military leaders and soldiers in fulfilling their loyalty to the king without measuring their deeds in relation to the Chosŏn military's eventual defeat. Na goes out of his way to note the fate of these loyal individuals after their service or after the war, whether they were dismissed, exiled, or eventually rehabilitated. In the fourth section, "Kanghwa Island Records," the self-centeredness of Kim Kyŏngjing, the prosecuting official of Kanghwa Island, is juxtaposed with the suicides of other officials and their chaste wives and daughters. The actions of the cowardly and disloyal are further contrasted with stories of those who died in captivity or resistance in the fifth section, "Records of Several People Who Rejected Peace Negotiations and Died of Righteousness."From the "epistolary battle" (lx) waged between warring parties to the inscription on the Samjŏndo stele that commemorated Chosŏn surrender, Na demonstrates a propensity for weaving other texts into his own writing. In this sense, the diary also serves as an archive of a wide variety of genres of writing, curated and filtered through Na's reading. In the final sections, Na relies heavily on statements, petitions, and memorials to show how the king and his officials approached the postwar tasks of coming to terms with defeat, navigating Chosŏn's position within shifting regional dynamics, and grappling with the persistent issue of "toxic factionalism" (xxix). In the seventh section, "Record of Ch'ŏngŭm's Slandering," Na uses such texts to show how factional rivalries were enacted in debates surrounding Ch'ŏngŭm, pen name of Kim Sanghŏn, a key figure of the anti-Manchu camp. Na allows the characters to speak through their own words, but as Kallander's annotations illuminate, his support for Kim is conveyed through his careful narrative decisions—for instance, to describe the position from which an official delivered his petition or to speculate about another's intentions in addressing the king.The Diary of 1636 is a versatile text for research and—with its introduction and detailed annotations—for teaching. Not only does Na's diary complement a number of extant witness accounts of the Manchu invasions, but it also provides intimate insights into the evolution of wartime and postwar Sino-Korean relations from an insider of the court, and as Kallander explains, may productively serve as a source for understanding how "Korea was an integral part of Jurchen-Manchu expansion and imperial identity" (xvi). Kallander also gestures toward the diary's relevance for studies of "unofficial histories" (yasa), as subsequent generations of Chosŏn scholars came to consider Na's diary as such while this was not the case for other diaries. This privileging of Na's text as a diary of events witnessed firsthand by the diarist, and the translator's rendering of the title as The Diary of 1636 over something more literal (such as "Records of the Pyŏngja Year") are interesting because the text is truly "more than just a chronicle of the attack" (xxxi). It chronicles the events leading up to and following the attack—some that Na did not witness himself, and others that he did witness but wrote about years later while in exile. More elaboration on the choice of title in relation to premodern practices of diary keeping—one of many forms of ego-documentation—would have helped provide even more perspective on how we are to understand Na's intentions and positionality as diarist.