T R A N SC E N D E N C E A ND A N X IETY

IN T H E P R IS O N L E T T E R S O F C A T H O L IC M A RTY R
YI SU N I LU D G A RD A (1779-1802)

D eberniere Jan et Torrey

Soon after its formal entrance into Korea in the 1780s, Catholicism was
met with intense persecution that continued for almost a century.1Korean
Catholics were persecuted because they refused to follow the state’s laws
governing religious rituals, and they claimed that loyalty to the Lord of
Heaven2 took precedence over loyalty to the king of Choson, Korea’s last
dynasty (1392-1910). In effect, Choson Catholics were asserting ideological
severance from age-old custom and authority. In discourse about Choson
Catholic women, this assertion, manifested in conversion and martyrdom,
emerges as an event of new self-determination for women whose lot was
typically more closely tied to that of their menfolk.
One notable event is the conversion and trial of Kang Wansuk Columba,3
as recorded in Hwang Sayong’s secret letter to the bishop of Beijing on
behalf of the beleaguered Catholics during the persecution of 1801. The
letter was apprehended, and Hwang, a convert from the elite scholar-official
yangban class, was flushed out of hiding and executed. But the letter became
an important record of the bravery and sacrifices of the first generation of
Korea’s Catholics, including Columba. Hwang describes her as a woman
of unusual moral strength and initiative, who even leaves the side of her
weak-willed husband to assist the underground Catholic movement. Such
independent action on the part of a woman of the eliteyangban class, to which

R&L 47.3 (Autumn 2015)

25
26 Religion & Literature

Columba belonged, would have been unacceptable within mainstream

Choson society at that time. The Choson state had adopted Confucianism
as its prevailing ideology, and relied on interpretations of the Confucian
classics that prescribed strict social hierarchies and rules for living. Accord­
ing to these prevailing mores, a woman was always subject to the men in
her family. In particular, women of the eliteyangban class were required to
follow strict rules of etiquette, behavior, and dress that reinforced this sub­
servient position and made them invisible or secondary players in the social
sphere. But Hwang, though raised as an elite Confucian scholar before his
conversion, praises Columba’s initiative, reporting that her strength under
torture and in the face of execution compelled the guards to declare that
she must be immortal.4
Furthermore, capital punishment itself implied a degree of responsibility
that made the criminal an important player. In spite of the secondary place
of women in Choson society, as many as 51 of 78 martyrs featured in an
account of the 1839 persecution are women, executed alongside the men
as traitors for engaging in religious activities not sanctioned by the Choson
state. ’ In his seminal history of the Korean Catholic Church, Claude-Charles
Dallet (1828-1879), a missionary with the Paris Foreign Mission Society,6
offers a poignant account of two women arrested during the persecution of
1815 who objected when offered a chance to recant Catholicism, insisting
they were equal to the men in their conviction and should be punished like
them. An official in charge of the beheading of several Catholic men said
to Yi Anna and Ch’oe Barbara, who were next in line for execution, “Those
men have just been put to death. But you women, why do you want to die?
Compared to them, your wrongdoing is insignificant. Come, there’s still
time. Just say one word, and I’ll set you free.” But Anna replied, “Why are
you so ignorant of the principles? According to you, the men should honor
God, their supreme Father, but the women should not. Such talk is useless.
I only expect that you treat me according to the laws.”7
Such cases support the tendency in contemporary scholarship on late
Choson to credit Catholicism with affording women more freedom and
agency than the traditional system and even with disrupting the status
quo.8 Kim Yunsong cites the incident of Anna and Barbara in a discussion
of female Catholic martyrdom as suggestive of “an important change that
broke the rules of male-centered society” by making women fully responsible
participants on the social stage of trial and punishment.9 Kim Chongsuk
also cites this story in her survey of the impact of Catholic teaching on
women in late Choson and claims that Catholic ethics “created significant
ripples in early nineteenth-century Choson society” by granting women
more authority. She also points out that Korean middle school textbooks
 D EBERN IERE JANET TORREY 27

include only 3 women in a list of 100 historical figures, whereas the his­
tory of Korean Catholicism features numerous women.10 Indeed, of 227
Koreans whose martyrdom in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries has
been formally recognized by Rome, 70 are women.11Chong Kilja comments
that Catholicism, by “recognizing women and men as equal persons,” and
by forbidding concubinage, polygamy, and other practices that advantaged
men over women, “shook up the family system of the time.”12In Uriyosong
uiyoksa (A history of our women), published by the Korean Women’s Studies
Institute, Chong Haeun devotes the last part of a chapter on the disruption
of the Choson “feudal” system to the impact of Catholicism, claiming that it
resulted in the beginnings of a modern awareness on the part of women.13
Catholicism was, in fact, viewed by the Choson government as enough
of a threat to prompt five persecutions between 1791 and 1866, in a king­
dom that, as Jahyun Kim Haboush notes, “had not been known for violent
religious persecution.”14 When held against the context of late Choson
society and values, the components of Catholic doctrine and the activities,
trials, and executions of Catholic converts indeed support the conclusion
that Catholicism brought about important changes for women who joined
the movement. For one, the Catholic doctrine that claimed all souls were
equal before God, though never applied to an extent that would disrupt
the male-centered ecclesiastical hierarchy, offered a basis for thinking about
individuals in a way that contrasted with the Korean Confucian view of
individuals as defined by the hierarchical relationships of parent-child, ruler-
subject, senior-junior, and male-female. Conversion itself, though it usually
took place along family lines, was, in principle, a matter of individual choice
and could always be recanted. Women were considered equally worthy of
religious education, alike in content with that received by men and written
in vernacular Korean, unlike most Confucian scholarship. Catholicism also
offered women opportunities for leadership and activity outside the home,
a space to which they were usually confined in proper Confucian society.
But what might have been the subjective experience of these changes?
Would the personal writings of an individual Catholic woman support the
argument that Catholicism was a liberating force? What we know about
women like Kang Columba, Yi Anna, and Ch’oe Barbara are based on
third-person accounts; these women did not leave any writings of their own.
In fact, very few personal, non-didactic writings by the first generation of
Korean Catholics survived the early persecutions. But the two prison letters
of Yi Suni Ludgarda (1782-1801), written shordy before her execution, offer
a unique glimpse into the subjective experience of a Choson woman whose
life was changed by conversion to Catholicism.15The letters have been ad­
dressed in Catholic scholarship for their religious and historical significance,
28 Religion & Literature

and introduced in discussions of the impact of Catholicism on Choson

women. 16 Excerpts of the letters are also included inJaHyun Kim Haboush’s
Epistolary Korea: Letters in the Communicative Space of the Choson.17 Most recently,
Chong Pyongsol has published a monograph that re-examines sources and
draws on newly-discovered primary sources to clarify a number of historical
details related to Yi Suni and her letters. 18 Still needed, however, is a close
reading of the letters that holds them up to the claim that the impact of
Catholicism on Choson women was mostly positive. Thus, my intent here
is to examine Yi Sum’s letters against the conventions and trends of Choson
women’s literature to further illuminate the psychological complexity and
the Choson-Catholic hybridity of the letters, and to point out the ways in
which they both support and trouble the argument that Catholicism was a
liberating force for ChosSn women.
Kim Okliui suggests that Ludgarda’s letters merit being treated as kyubang
munhak (a term for premodern women’s literature, meaning, “literature
of the women’s quarters” ) , 19 but Kim’s own work focuses on the religious
significance of Ludgarda’s life and letters. There has been little scholarly
analysis of the letters within the context of Choson women’s writing. One
reason for this neglect is likely the predominantly religious content of the
letters, as well as their unusual circumstances of having been composed
from prison, which places them outside the standard categories of Choson
literature. Although the letters might be reasonably included in a survey of
Choson naegan (women’s letters), the only other sample of writing from that
period that somewhat resembles Ludgarda’s letters in content and circum­
stance was written from prison by Ludgarda’s elder brother. This uniqueness
itself merits examination, since the letters show how Catholicism presented
assumptions that diverged radically from mainstream Choson discourse. At
the same time, the letters reveal certain formal and thematic aspects com­
parable to conventional women’s writings from the period. Linally, the fact
that women’s writing in Choson was less self-consciously literary and more
an expression of everyday experience (women were discouraged from en­
gaging in creative writing) offers a fair basis of comparison with Ludgarda’s
letters, which are an expression of her existential circumstances. Overall,
the letters represent an unusual juncture between tradition and innovation,
and by examining them against the conventions and common themes of
premodern women’s literature, we may move beyond initial impressions to
arrive at a more nuanced understanding of the impact of Catholicism on
a Choson woman.
And what do they reveal? When we consider the themes and conventions
of Choson women’s writing, certain aspects of Ludgarda’s life and her prison
letters support the conception that Catholicism offered a more liberating
 DEBERJVIERE JANET TORREY 29

space for women born into the restrictions of late Choson. Also, Ludgarda’s
Catholic identity allowed her role as a writing subject to extend beyond the
gender-based boundaries that characterized other women’s writing. Hence,
lament about the burdens of womanhood, a common theme in the writ­
ings of Choson women, is absent from Ludgarda’s letters. But I will also
argue that the letters reveal that conversion has brought its own burden:
Ludgarda expresses a deep anxiety about the fate of her soul. Furthermore,
she voices self-blame, instead of complaint about the burden, as a Choson
woman might have. Agency appears to have exacted the troubling price
of guilt. Notably, this inward focus results in a voice that is unusually self-
conscious and autobiographical for a Choson woman. Thus, the dark side
of what Ludgarda expresses—anxiety and guilt—troubles the conception
that Catholicism was a positive force for women, while the uniqueness of
Ludgarda’s circumstances and voice reveals that her Catholic identity has
nonetheless enabled a new kind of self-expression.

M oral Rectitude and Lament: Two Sides o f Women’s Writing in Late Choson

Writing from prison to two female relatives, Yi Suni Ludgarda begins the
account of her arrest and imprisonment during the persecution of 1801 as
follows:
As we faced the [persecutions] of this year and I became sick with worry.. .1 resolved
in my heart to die for the Lord at the right opportunity. I looked after the great work
[of my salvation] and strove to prepare myself. Then without warning a crowd of
official servants appeared and I was arrested. I had just begun to fear that I would
miss such an opportunity, but it happened as I had wished. I give thanks for the Lord’s
grace! My one desire is fulfilled, but everything happened so suddenly, in the midst
of great confusion, and the official servants hurried us on. Sorrowful cries shook
heaven and earth. Separation from my elderly mother, siblings, friends, neighbors,
and home, with no promise of reunion! My familial affection not yet exhausted, I
wept for the separation and turned away in grief. But what I desire is to die in grace.20

Ludgarda describes tragic events fraught with the very human emotions of
fear, hopelessness, and sorrow, yet repeatedly voices her desire for martyr­
dom. In the face of advancing persecution, she has concluded that the best
recourse will be to die as a martyr. When she is arrested, though heartbroken
over the violence and the forced separations, she bravely declares that her
opportunity has arrived.
Ludgarda’s courage, her willingness to sacrifice in the midst of dilhcult
circumstances, and her desire to do the honorable thing are attitudes ex­
pected of women of the elite scholar-official yanghan class in Choson (to
which Ludgarda belonged), and these attitudes are reflected in Choson
30 Religion & Literature

women’s writing. The dominance of moral imperatives in both Confucian

and Catholic systems of behavior thus creates a parallel between the respec­
tive discourses. But the transcendent focus of Catholic discourse, reflected
in Ludgarda’s attention to heaven and the rectitude of her soul, facilitates a
sense of individual identity that is separate from the social web undergirding
the Confucian system, and that transcends the traditional boundaries of
gender and clan. To better illuminate the significance of Ludgarda’s letters
in the context of late Choson, I will first examine two important aspects of
Choson women’s writing that relate to the circumstances of womanhood
impacted by Catholicism and that offer points of comparison and contrast
with Ludgarda’s letters.
The term kyubang munhak (literature of the women’s quarters) alludes to
the sphere to which elite women were restricted by the Confucian moral
code, as interpreted by Choson legislators. In the wake of devastating for­
eign invasions during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the state was
compelled to increase its efforts to return order to society, and this entailed a
growing emphasis on moral instruction for women. To ensure that women
would have access to such instruction, the state mandated vernacular trans­
lations of Confucian didactic literature, including The Classic of Filial Piety,
Elementary Learning, and The Four Booksfor Women. These books constituted
the primary material of an elite girl’s literary education, which took place
at home. Instructional writings composed by a respected family member
were often added to such collections and passed down through generations,
further reinforcing the principles outlined in the classics. After marriage,
a woman was expected to continue this education in virtue by following
the family traditions, instructed by both her parents and in-laws, and then
passing them on to her daughters.
While moral education of women grew in momentum during the eigh­
teenth century, women’s agency in practical matters was undermined by
legislation that banned them from performing ancestral rites, decreased
the inheritance a daughter could receive from her parents, and required
a bride to move into the home of her husband’s family and serve her in­
laws. Such restrictions were reinforced by moral prescriptions drawn from
the Confucian literature. The most famous of these prescriptions was the
“Principle of the Three Followings” (:n#£i£.3li), which required a woman
to submit first to the authority of her father (or closest male relative in the
father’s absence); then, upon marriage, to her husband; and finally, after
the husband’s death, to her son, with the assumption that she would remain
unmarried in fidelity to her late husband.
This moral education was extended across the social spectrum and rein­
forced through such strategies as rewarding the families of'yollyo (a woman
 DEBERN IERE JANET TORREY 31

who proved her loyalty to her husband) with recognition or material benefits.
In some cases, freedom from slavery was the reward for demonstrating vir­
tue. Chong Haeun remarks that when a woman’s virtuous actions affected
not only the honor but the material welfare of the family, the pressure for
a woman to make sacrifices increased.21 Thus, while a woman’s authority
and freedom were greatly restricted, she was simultaneously saddled with
the weighty moral responsibility of helping restore and maintain order in a
troubled society: “Women were taught to assume pivotal roles as guardians
and transmitters of Confucian norms and values and to embody the ideal
of female virtue as one of the axial elements of the Confucian hegemonic
system.”22 Such moral responsibility, though accompanied by restrictive
prescriptions, no doubt contributed to a sense of vocation for women of
all classes.
Along with the greater literacy made possible through the growing use of
vernacular Korean, this sense of vocation contributed to a marked growth
in women’s literature. The phenomenon of women giving written expres­
sion to their particular stances also led to “the development of a women’s
literature quite distinct from men’s literature,” as a result of the inequality
and segregation imposed by the Neo-Confucian social system.23 The con­
ventions of women’s literature reflected and responded to these restrictions
and moral expectations.
Accordingly, a common theme of women’s writing in late Choson was
moral instruction, reflecting the female vocation as guardian of Confucian
norms in the domestic sphere. Women’s writing was also distinct in that it
was largely written in the vernacular —women were not usually educated
in classical Chinese, and their intended audience, if any, was other women.
Apart from the kisaeng, a class of female entertainers whose skills in poetry­
writing might offer desirable entertainment for their highly-educatedja^an
male clientele, women were not encouraged to engage in creative writing.
Thus, most women’s writing from the Choson period consisted of essays
(mpit), narrative poems with little formal structure aside from a repeated
rhythm (kasa), and letters. In subject matter, women seldom ventured beyond
the particulars of family life, Confucian norms, and personal emotion. Fur­
thermore, a woman’s writing was rarely transmitted outside her family. A
woman’s erudition, when accompanied by moral rectitude, might be praised,
but it was considered inappropriate for her to show her learning outside the
home, and it was not unusual for a woman to burn or wash the ink out of
something she had written. Exceptions to this rule are the unusual cases of
Im Yunjidang (1721-1793) and Kang Chongildang (1772-1832), who wrote
Confucian philosophy and were praised for both their moral rectitude and
their erudition. Their philosophical writings, though more metaphysical
32 Religion & Literature

than didactic, nonetheless focus on the achievement of moral perfection.24

The prose genres of supil and letters were obviously conducive to didactic
writing, as was kasa, since its repeated rhythm facilitated memorization and
recitation. Thus, the largest thematic category of kasa written by women was
moral instruction. One of the most famous and widely read kasa texts was
“Kim Daebi hunmin ka” (Queen Kim’s song of instruction to the people),
composed by King Sunjo’s first consort in 1800 and addressed to both men
and women. The first part exhorts men to uphold Confucian relationships
by being filial to parents, respectful of elders, and mindful of the distinc­
tion between men and women. The second part instructs women to uphold
the Three Followings, to remember that husbands are to be honored like
heaven, and to respectfully serve the in-laws.25 These and similar themes
are also found in pieces with titles such as “Kyujung haengsil ka” (A song
of proper behavior for the women’s quarters) and “Kyeyo ka” (A song of
commandments for women). Like any other instructive kasa, the latter be­
gins by directly addressing the daughter and stating the occasion: “Listen
daughter, tomorrow you move to your new husband’s home.” The speaker
then states, “You are leaving your home and entering the in-laws’ home / As
you leave your parents, I have many, so many words of instruction for you.”
Indeed, the poem continues for about 140 lines with detailed instructions
on serving the in-laws, maintaining domestic harmony, duties during the
ancestral rites, managing servants, raising children, comportment, and so
forth. In effect, there is no end to what is required of a new wife. Thus, the
speaker closes with, “I have countless more words of instruction for you /
But my mind is now distant, and I will stop here.”26 Apparently, the sheer
number of things the daughter must keep in mind has left even the speaker
exhausted.
Personal letters between women naturally revealed more immediacy and
individuality than formal supil or kasa pieces, but these were also circum­
scribed by the traditional principles of letter writing that a girl of a good
family was taught as part of her domestic education, and thus usually con­
formed to prescribed form and content.27 Naturally, the same dispensation
of advice found in kasa appears in letters from mothers to their daughters.28
The few instances of historical events recorded by women, such as Kyech’uk
ilgi (A diary of the Kyech’uk year) and Inhyon wanghu chon (The tale of queen
consort Inhyon) (both probably written by maids-in-waiting; circa 1613 and
late eighteenth century, respectively), present the personal experiences of
tragic events, but still maintain a decorous solemnity and calm. The Memoirs
of Lady Hyegyong Hong, written by the wife of the doomed Prince Sado and
mother of King Chongjo (r. 1779—1800), is another such record from the
Chos5n period and is unique as a statement of defense written by a woman,
 DEBERN IERE JANET TOR KEY 33

as well as for its candor about royal misdemeanor.29 Nonetheless, it likewise

maintains the restraint and self-effacement expected of a Choson woman.
Naturally, not all women’s writing was morally prescriptive or otherwise
circumscribed by social expectations. Women also wrote kasa that described
daily life and special events, celebrated good fortune, or expressed grief over
personal struggles and tragedies. Most of these still conformed to traditional
expectations of women, even interjecting sound bites of Confucian moral­
ity here and there. However, an undercurrent of complaint is suggested by
a subcategory of women’s writing that openly communicates sorrow and
discontent over the suffering for which a woman was destined. Much of
the brilliant poetry of Ho Nansolhon (1563-1589), who represents a rare
instance of a Choson woman with a legacy of poems written in classical
Chinese, expresses this malaise with unequalled shrewdness and eloquence.
This thematic subcategory, to which Ho’s poetry is usually assigned (al­
though most of the works included in the subcategory are kasa) is called yotan
(woman’s lament) and is said to expressyohan (woman’s han)— han referring
to an emotional state that arises from trauma or accumulated suffering, and
that includes the feelings of sorrow and grievance.30
In their thematic classification of women’s kasa, the editors of A History of
Korean Women list three categories: instruction in Confucian mores; complaint
about life as a woman; and longing for the world outside the inner cham­
bers.31 Two of these categories fit into the subcategory of yotan, openly ex­
pressing sorrow and complaint, and responding to problems that are specific
to being born female in Choson. Yi Chongok offers a further classification
that indicates six categories of lament in women’s kasa.32 The first category
is straightforward lament about being born female and includes lines such
as “What sin from my previous life gave me this woman’s body?”,33 “How
is it I missed becoming a man?”34 and “My female body is my crime, and
though I have a mouth, I cannot speak.”35 The remaining five categories
of lament include lack of access to a broader education; separation from
loved ones; the trials of married life with in-laws; the passage of time; and
fear of death.
Although complaint about womanhood itself is not the focus of these
latter categories, most of them nonetheless relate to problems specific to
Choson women. The complaints about education often include comparisons
with men. In “Yoja tansik ka” (A woman’s song of lament), the speaker
envies a man’s opportunities to study the classics and enjoy the privileges of
officialdom. She declares, “How good it would be to have a man’s body!”36
Separation laments usually concern separations caused by marriage, which
veritably exiled the woman from her maiden family and girlhood friends.
The title “Sach’in ka,” for instance, meaning “Song of longing for the natal
34 Religion & Literature

home,” refers directly to the longing caused by marriage. This theme also
appears in letters written by married daughters to members of their natal
families. Complaints about marriage focus on the burdens specific to wives,
including the separations, as well as servitude to in-laws. Even complaints
about the passage of time lament growing old with nothing to show but a
woman’s lot of exile and servitude. 37 Fear of death is the only category of
lament that is not specific to the burdens of womanhood, and the theme is
addressed only marginally in women’s kasa, 38
Although yotan kasa (women’s lament kasa) are generally treated as a sub­
category of Choson women’s kasa, they represent a logical subtext to the bulk
of Choson women’s writing, which arose “less from a literary consciousness
than from a woman’s consciousness of her life. ” 39 Cho Sonyong and Chong
Kilja point out that instructive kasa and yotan kasa are two sides of a duality
that constitutes the Choson woman’s response to the burdens imposed on
her.40 The two sides, compliance and complaint, are not mutually exclusive.
In a related vein, Yi Chongok and Yang T ’aesun argue that lament should
be understood as universal to Choson women’s kasa, rather than particular
to a subgroup.41 They suggest that even instructive kasa, in which the mother
instructs her daughter on the conduct expected of a woman, are merely the
necessary constructive response to a burdensome situation. In other words,
since the daughter is subject to such heavy expectations, the least the mother
can do is show her how to Fulfill them. It is the lamentable circumstances
of womanhood that make the instructive kasa necessary in the first place.
Thus, instructive kasa represent the constructive and rational expression of
a general lament about circumstances that are the object of more open and
emotional complaint in xht yotan kasa. In late Choson women’s writing, the
larger gesture of moral duty and instruction was increasingly interspersed
with these smaller gestures of complaint, revealing both an interplay and
a tension between traditional mores and the experience of han (sorrow;
grievance) arising from the circumstances created by these mores.

Catholicism and Choson Women

Since the restrictions on and moral expectations of women were under­

girded by the strict Choson interpretation of Confucian values, the condi­
tions of women’s han are usually associated with Confucianism. Drawing
from the specific complaints featured in yotan literature, Kim Yongsuk lists
five factors that contributed to women’s han: the ideology of male dominance
and the Three Followings; inequality in education; the idolization ofyollyo
(loyal wives) and the forbidding of remarriage for widows; polygamy; and a
 I) EBERNIERE JANET TO RREY 35

system that allowed men a romantic outlet through relationships with profes­
sional kisaeng entertainers at the expense of their wives’ emotional needs.42
Although the last two factors do not link directly to Confucian values, they
were reinforced by the patriarchal system that based itself on the Choson
interpretation of Confucianism.
In this context of rigidly imposed Confucian norms, the introduction of
Catholicism carried profound implications for women. Catholic doctrine
stated that all souls were equal before God and that individual loyalty to God
superseded the traditional Confucian loyalties of wife to husband, child to
parent, and subject to king. Catholic doctrine was as accessible to women
as it was to men by virtue of its propagation in the vernacular script, and
what had been the script of women and the lower classes was effectively
elevated in status as it spread the teachings of a movement begun by men
of the elite scholar-officialyangban class.
This equality of access to Catholic education, as well as the content of the
teaching itself, allowed for a shift in a woman’s perception of her personal
status. In practice as well, the Church permitted women greater freedom of
movement and leadership than was customary in Choson. Although most
often this activity took place within female circles, the aforementioned Kang
Columba functioned as a valuable personal assistant to Zhou Wenmo, the
priest smuggled in from China. The job involved living and traveling with
the priest and interacting with both male and female converts. Gari Led-
yard describes this case of “a remarkable woman who worked in a cause
that unfolded outside the home in public space” as “hardly imaginable for
a woman in her time and probably without precedent in earlier Korean
history.”43 In fact, the types of activities that Columba engaged in—even
apart from her adherence to the “evil doctrine” of Catholicism—were cited
by the authorities as criminal. During the persecution of 1801, Catholic
women were accused of the “crimes” of mixing with men;44 leaving home
to go to the capital (Seoul was the center of Catholic activity after the ar­
rival of Fr. Zhou); going about in the streets from house to house; remaining
unmarried; and falsely claiming widowhood to disguise unmarried status.45
The latter two crimes refer to Catholic women practicing celibacy,
which the Church presented as a worthy means of devoting oneself to the
Lord’s work. This teaching had as much practical impact on the women
who adopted the lifestyle as did being allowed equal access to Catholic
education. For a Choson woman, being able to remain unmarried meant
enjoying considerably more freedom than was allowed in traditional mar­
riage. It also implied a rare exercise of personal choice over an important
life event. Women who chose celibacy were refusing what was considered
a woman’s primary filial duty: producing children to carry on the family
36 Religion dc Literature

line. Celibacy, allowed even post-marriage, meant a woman’s worth was no

longer determined by her ability to bear children.
Even the Church’s approach to marriage offered new freedoms for
women. Catholic teaching countered the traditional assumption that
marriage was a contract between families, making the partners subject to
their parents’ choices. Cho Kwang points out that teachings on marriage
presented in vernacular writings distributed by the Church for the educa­
tion of Catholics de-emphasized the parent-child relationship, replacing
“the father-son relation with the husband-wife relation at the center of
family ethics.” Marriage was characterized as a union of individuals in a
sacred relationship of love.+bIn contrast to the traditional double standard
that required women to remain loyal even after the husband’s death, while
husbands were allowed to take concubines and associate with kisaeng, the
Church forbade the practice of polygamy, expected chastity of men as well
as women, and allowed widows to remarry. Women were further protected
by the Church’s efforts to discourage child marriage, mistreatment of
daughters, and disparagement of women who could not bear sons.47
Such doctrinal and practical manifestations of greater egalitarianism and
individual choice doubtless held a strong appeal for women caught in a re­
pressive system. Furthermore, Catholicism could appeal to a woman’s sense
of moral vocation. Her loyalty to elders and to Confucian norms could be
transferred to God and to the Church, and the reward was at least fourfold:
greater opportunity than that usually offered to women in the world outside
the Church; recognition and esteem among fellow Catholics; involvement in
something beyond the confines of domestic life; and the promise of eternal
life. Lee Younghee notes that although the Catholic doctrine of equality
might have been the main draw for women, “Catholic teachings on heaven
and hell were also important attractions. In contrast, Confucianism offered
no vision of an afterlife. Thus even if women had han in this life, in the next
they were sure to be freed by their virtuous behavior. ” 48 In Choson society,
adherence to Confucian norms was intended to be its own reward, and
the most desirable effect of such rectitude was to bring honor to the family
name. A woman’s self-sacrificing decorum and hard work might also reap
the more tangible rewards of family harmony and material compensation
in some cases, but these things did not grant her the degree of personal
agency offered by the Catholic doctrine that each human soul was equally
valued by God. Even if an individual Catholic woman was in no practical
position to enjoy the earthly benefits of membership in the Church, inwardly
she could access this sense of worth and look forward to the reward of
heaven and union with God after death. For these reasons, both practical
and spiritual, scholars such as Lee Younghee, Chong Haeun, and Chong
 DEBERNIERE JANET TORREY 37

Kilja suggest that Catholicism helped alleviate the conditions of han in the
lives of Choson women.

T he Prison Letters o f T i Suni Ludgarda

The anticipation of heavenly reward through impending death is one

of several themes in the two letters written by Yi Suni Ludgarda from her
prison cell during the persecutions of 1801. Ludgarda, twenty-two at the
time, also recounts important events in her life as a Catholic woman.49 The
letters were preserved, copied, and passed down through the Catholic com­
munity, allowing the modern reader a singular glimpse into the life of one
Chos5n woman who chose the strange new path of Catholicism.
In Korea, the Catholic movement was started not by missionaries but by a
small group of Korean Confucian scholars of theyangban class who became
interested in Catholic texts that were written in classical Chinese and had
been transmitted from China over the years. In addition to The True Mean­
ing of the Lord of Heaven, an apologetic treatise written by the Jesuit Matteo
Ricci (1552-1610) during his missionary service in China, these included
other texts of Catholic philosophy and doctrine, and expositions of medieval
Western science. These Korean scholars were prompted to examine “West­
ern Learning,” as it was called, in their quest for philosophical, religious,
and practical knowledge that would help them fulfill their moral ideals.50
One member of the study group went to Beijing in 1784, was baptized,
and returned with more Catholic material. Meetings continued in secret
because all religious or ritual activity came under state jurisdiction, and
these men had not obtained official approval of their study and practice. In
1791, Paul Yun Chich’ung, a zealous young Catholic, having learned that
the pope had banned the observance of Confucian ancestral rites, burned
his late mother’s ancestral tablets. Paul was tried for defying ritual law and
became the first Korean to be executed for his Catholic faith. A strongly
anti-Catholic regime came into power in 1800, and an official purge of
Catholicism began the next spring with the arrest and execution of several
Catholic leaders, prompting Hwang Sayong to write his ill-fated letter to
the Bishop of Beijing. By the beginning of 1802, close to a thousand people
had been arrested and tried, about four hundred exiled, and a hundred or
so executed, including Yi Suni Ludgarda.
Ludgarda was the daughter of a respectedjwzgian family distinguished
within the Catholic community by their religious devotion.51 Her father, Yi
Yunha, had been active in the founding of the Korean Church, and one of
her maternal uncles was a member of the first study group. Ludgarda was
38 Religion & Literature

well connected in mainstream society as well; her paternal grandmother

was the daughter of the renowned Confucian scholar Yi Ik. According to
the record from the prosecution of Ludgarda’s elder brother (Kyongdo),
their father had inherited from his grandfather (Yi Chibong) several books
of Western learning, including Ricci’s True Meaning. As Kim Okhui notes,
this early introduction to Catholicism would have contributed to a deeply
rooted conversion among members of the family.52
After her first communion, Ludgarda expressed to Fr. Zhou her wish to
offer herself fully to the Lord by remaining celibate. A text commonly used
for religious instruction at the time was a volume that combined Korean
translations of Shengjing zhijie (Direct exposition of the Bible) and Shengjing
gwangyi (The Bible for widespread benefit), published some decades earlier
in Beijing by the French Jesuit Moyriac de Mailla. In one passage, differ­
ent marital states were labeled as gold, silver, and bronze. Celibacy was
lauded as the most prized “gold,” for it allowed the practitioner to focus
wholeheartedly on the “Lord’s work” while keeping the mind and body
pure. The life of a widow or widower was equated with “silver” because
it likewise allowed single-minded religious service and purity, and the or­
dinary matrimonial state was “bronze.” Thus, for spiritual reasons, as well
as to avoid the burdens of marriage mentioned earlier, it was not unusual
for Catholic women of the time to choose celibacy. But since it was neither
safe nor socially acceptable for a healthy young woman of a good family
to remain single, marriage was often necessary for protection and to avoid
the attention of the authorities. Fortunately, through the mediation of Fr.
Zhou, Ludgarda was able to find a like-minded partner in Yoan John) Yu
Chungch’ol, the son of anotheryangban family. Ludgarda’s relatives were
not pleased about the prospective union, possibly because of the liability of
being joined to a family that was even more entrenched in the prohibited
Catholic movement than they were, but her mother (Ludgarda’s father
had died) and Yoan’s parents accepted the couple’s plan to enter a celibate
union, and they were married in 1797.53
In the spring of 1801, Ludgarda’s father-in-law was arrested and taken
to Seoul, and soon afterward her husband was imprisoned in the southern
city of Chonju. Six months later, Ludgarda’s elder brother, who had acted
as the head of the Yi family since their father’s death, was arrested. With the
heads of the two families arrested and sentenced, Ludgarda, her younger
brother, and her remaining in-laws were arrested for implication, as had
become customary during the anti-Catholic persecution. Some time during
the latter half of the ninth month (late October or early November on the
Western calendar), remembering Fr. Zhou’s instructions that she should keep
a record in the event that suffering and persecution were inflicted on her
 DEBERNIERE JANET TORREY 39

family, Ludgarda wrote a letter to her mother, who had avoided arrest. She
recounted what had happened and sent the letter with her young brother-
in-law, who was allowed to make the errand. Several days later, when the
guard came to transfer her brother-in-law to the prison where Yoan was
detained, Ludgarda entreated him, “Tell Yoan that I said let us die on the
same day at the same time.”54 Soon word came that the brothers had been
hanged. Ludgarda was later given a note from her husband, found among
his belongings: “Let us comfort and encourage one another, and meet again
in heaven.”" Contrary to her wishes to die quickly and join her husband,
Ludgarda and several of her remaining in-laws were ordered into exile. But
about thirty miles into their journey they were suddenly interrupted by a
constable who announced that the exile order had been canceled and they
must return to prison. Back in the Chonju prison, Ludgarda was beaten and
a stock fastened to her neck. Some weeks later, probably over the course of
several days since she had to avoid the eyes of the prison guard, she wrote
a longer letter addressed to a “sister” (possibly a close relative rather than
a member of her nuclear family) and a “brother’s wife.”56 On January 30,
1802, soon after completing this second letter (titled elsewhere in this essay
as the “letter to her sisters”), Ludgarda was beheaded in a wood outside the
Chonju city walls.

Transcending the Burdens o f Choson Womanhood

Ludgarda’s two letters are a composite of report, memoir, testimony

advice, and lament. As such, they share some of the thematic character­
istics of Choson women’s kasa, although their initial literary classification
would be women’s letters or supil (essays). Even within these classifications,
the letters stand apart. In particular, the lengthy rambling structure of the
second letter distinguishes it from the formality and restraint found in most
women’s letters and essays. Although letters from married women to their
longed-for mothers or sisters were often quite emotive and poignant, they
tended to be short and focused on immediate matters.57 Ludgarda’s letter
to her sisters continues for pages, moving from one topic to another, from
the present to the past, the immediate to the spiritual, and back again. The
unique circumstances of composition (imprisonment and physical pain)
surely contributed to the letter’s rambling, impassioned quality.
Ludgarda’s purported reason for writing the letters was Fr. Zhou’s instruc­
tion that she keep a record. However, the precedent of women’s instructional
writing was no doubt guiding her as well; Fr. Zhou’s directive suggested her
letters might eventually find their way to a larger audience who would be
40 Religion do Literature

informed and inspired by them. Furthermore, being from ayangban family,

Ludgarda would have been instructed in whatever Confucian conventions
and attitudes did not conflict with her Catholic faith. Thus, her letters exhibit
many of the characteristics found in any letter written by a well-brought-up
Choson woman.
Throughout the letter to her mother, Ludgarda models the self-effacing
posture of an obedient daughter. The letter begins with the standard for­
malities interspersed with exhortations that her mother maintain calm. She
expresses her desire to be a dutiful daughter through her apologies and the
promise that her sacrifice will make her mother proud, thus following the
traditional expectations of such discourse for both sons and daughters:
During my life in the world I have truly failed to be an honorable daughter. I may be
a useless child, but when the day of fruition arrives through the Lord’s special grace,
you will say that you have rightly given birth to this child, and I will become a worthy
daughter. Martyrdom will turn this small, useless child into a true and precious one. I
beseech you a million times not to be exceedingly grieved, but to restrain your grief.58

Ludgarda’s advice to her mother to remain composed and to focus on the

long-term reward reflects the traditional ideals of stoicism, moderation, and
restraint for the sake of the greater good. Ludgarda’s letter to her sisters
likewise offers such exhortations accompanied by dutiful self-effacement
and references to family honor:
If this lowly child, your foolish younger sister, should dare to become the Lord’s
righteous child and be included among the righteous; and, though clothed in such
shabby garments, should become a friend of the saints in heaven and participate
in the heavenly banquet, what great glory!... So why should you be sorrowful? To
say that one is the sister of an official servant, how does that compare to saying that
one is the sister of a martyr? And if our mother can say that she is the mother of a
martyr, will it not be a good thing for her name? If one such as I should dare to be
martyred, it would be a wonder incomparable to any other martyrdom .59

The parallels here with yollyb (loyal wife) discourse are striking. Just as a
woman who is about to follow her husband into death to prove her faith­
fulness might reassure her loved ones by reminding them of the honor and
eventual reward her actions will bring (following a husband into death was
not encouraged, but was nonetheless considered honorable), Ludgarda tries
to comfort her sisters by reminding them that having a martyr in the family
will raise their status within the Catholic community.
The tone of lament in parts of Ludgarda’s letter to her sisters also evokes
letters or kasa that express sorrow over misfortune and separation from loved
ones. 60 As noted earlier, the letter begins with Ludgarda’s open expressions
of grief over what has happened, interspersed with mentions of her goal
 DEBERNIERE JANET TORREY 41

of martyrdom. Later she returns to her account of the tragic events, which
are “too many to record,” and relates the suffering of her in-laws, who were
arrested with her, including the three youngest, “mere children, nine, six,
and three years old. They have been exiled as far away as the islands of
Huksan, Sinji, and Koje. How can anyone look upon such a terrible sight? ” 61
Ludgarda also asks about other family members with much concern. In­
terspersed among these passages expressing her very human sorrow and
longing are the instructive parts, in which she exhorts her sisters to remain
calm, to “lean on the Holy Mother” in the midst of their sorrows, to accept
their trials as opportunities for spiritual growth, to guard their faith, and
to forgive others and maintain harmony so that they may eventually meet
the Lord and be reunited in heaven. 62 This alternation between advice and
lament echoes the aforementioned duality often found in Choson women’s
writing, which reflects the tension between duty and emotional response.
Despite these parallels with the thematic conventions of the writings of
Ludgarda’s non-Catholic contemporaries, the letters also reflect Ludgarda’s
break from tradition through conversion to Catholicism, which shifts her
ultimate reference point from the earthly to the heavenly. Each of the par­
allels cited above simultaneously reveals this new orientation. Ludgarda’s
declaration of her worthlessness as a daughter and sister, her references to
respect and honor, and her fervent pleas that her mother and sisters restrain
themselves are in line with the traditional Confucian norms of filial piety,
self-abnegation, emotional restraint, and patience. However, Ludgarda’s
Catholic faith shifts the goal of such rectitude from that which is defined
by society to something transcendent. The basis of her insistence that her
loved ones be not excessively grieved, as well as the stated source of the
honor that will befall the family, is not adherence to Confucian norms but
allegiance to a transcendent world, to which the immortal soul belongs and
martyrdom allows direct access. Thus she says to her mother,
Regard this world as a dream, consider the eternal world to be your true home, and
take care to obey the Lord’s will. Then when you have left this world, you will find
your pitiful child holding up a crown of glory, with joyful, eternal blessing, and we
will clasp each other’s hands to worship and to enjoy eternal blessing.63

The traditional ideals of moral vocation, self-abnegation, and sacrifice are

now translated to the eternal realm. Although Ludgarda alludes to earthly
honor when she reminds her mother and her sisters that her martyrdom will
make her a worthy daughter and sister, 64 the final reward for all involved is
heaven, and she closes both letters by expressing her hope for their reunion
in eternity.
42 Religion de Literature

Furthermore, the causes of lament in Ludgarda’s letters are not those of

womanhood, as in the case of ybtan (women’s lament) literature. The cir­
cumstances of persecution that Ludgarda laments are the result of her free
choice to assume a Catholic identity. Although she was born into a Catholic
family, Catholic faith could be recanted, whereas womanhood could not.
Ludgarda may experience grief because of persecution and suffering, but,
as we see from her reference to the glory of martyrdom, she is willing to
embrace suffering to draw closer to God.
This shifting of reference point from the earthly to the heavenly allows
Ludgarda to transcend traditional gender-based boundaries. Although she
is, in one sense, carrying out the traditional Korean female vocation of
upholding moral ideals, the standards she upholds are not specific to the
domestic sphere of women; they point to spiritual principles that apply to
men and women alike. The most prominent themes in her letters— salva­
tion, martyrdom, and heaven—extend beyond the bounded gender-based
topics of women’s writing. Men, as much as women, are expected to learn
from her example of faithfulness and martyrdom. In instructing Ludgarda
to record any persecution that befell her family, Fr. Zhou was appointing
her as a recorder of Catholic history, which involved both men and women.
Although Ludgarda recorded these events through letters to her mother
and sisters, her final audience would include men as well. Unlike the letters
of other Choson women, which were meant to be read only in the inner
chambers and usually left to slip into oblivion,65 Ludgarda’s letters were
saved, transcribed, and passed on. Parts of them were even translated into
French by Charles Dallet, who included them in his aforementioned history
of the Korean Catholic Church .66
Ludgarda’s transcendence of traditional gender-based norms is perhaps
most explicitly demonstrated by the nature of her union with Yoan and by
what she says about this relationship.6' As mentioned earlier, Catholicism
emphasized marriage as a union of individuals rather than a contract be­
tween families, and the valuing of virginity even within marriage clearly
defied the traditional expectation of marriage as primarily a means to
continue the family line. Although it was through the mediation of Fr.
Zhou that Ludgarda and Yoan met, this mediation was prompted by their
individual choices. On a practical level, the choice of virginity would
have had a more equalizing effect, removing the factor of childbirth and
parenthood by which traditional male and female roles were cemented. More
importandy, the novel ideal of both husband and wife equally guarding their
chastity for the sake of deeper union with God, as well as for the purpose
of a “higher,” more spiritual union with each other, stood in contrast to
the traditional ideal of the woman guarding her chastity for the sake of
 DEBERNIERE JANET TO RRE Y 43

her husband. The expectation that the woman devote herself faithfully to
her husband at all costs while her husband devoted himself faithfully to
the king was now replaced by the expectation that both husband and wife
devote themselves first to the King of Heaven. In effect, this placed them
on a more equal footing than possible in the traditional loyalty hierarchy of
wife to man, man to king. Ludgarda alludes to this equality of status when
she says in her letter to her sisters, “Others call Yoan my husband, but I say
that he is my faithful friend .” 58 In the five principal relationships stipulated
by Confucian tradition -ruler/subject, father/son, husband/wife, senior/
junior, friend/friend—the only relationship lacking an inherent or enforced
hierarchy, and thus carrying the possibility of equality, was the relationship
between friends. 59
In the matter of virtue as well as choice, the nature of Ludgarda’s rela­
tionship with Yoan links to the theme of her individual agency. Unlike in
the case of a traditional wife, the measure of whose virtue was tied to her
function in relation to her husband and the outcome of her husband’s life,
Ludgarda’s virtue, though guarded through mutual contract with her hus­
band, is not strengthened or lessened by his status or success. Her virtue is
primarily a matter of her individual soul and body. Kim Yunsong points out
that the Catholic choice of chastity for spiritual reasons, rather than for the
purpose of demonstrating loyalty to a man and maintaining purity of fam­
ily line, allowed women to “discover themselves as agents of sexual desire,
rather than as objects of sexual desire defined by masculine language. ” 70
Ludgarda manifests this agency when she describes how she and Yoan were
able to remain faithful to their vows. 71 She assures her mother thus:
During our four years together, we were indeed as brother and sister. But we were
tempted on as many as ten occasions, such that it seemed hopeless. But we were
strengthened by the work of the holy blood [shed by Christ on the cross for sinners]
and able to avoid falling into temptation. I am telling you this to ease your concern,
so please think of this letter as me alive before you, and receive it with gladness.72

Ludgarda reassures her sister and sister-in-law likewise, recounting, in par­

ticular, one incident during the previous year, when her and Yoan’s desire
for each other had intensified and they were in great fear of breaking their
vows: “We looked upward, requesting help to overcome, and through the
Lord’s loving grace we were able to narrowly avoid compromise and thereby
guard our virginity. ” 73 In Ludgarda’s recounting, she and Yoan are equally
subject to feelings of sexual desire and joined in their mutual attempt to
overcome them.
44 Religion tfc Literature

The N ew Burden o f Fleshly Embodiment

Ludgarda’s transcendence of traditional gender-based boundaries, her

relative autonomy in the maintenance of virtue, her agency in choosing
a marriage partner and choosing to remain childless, and her depiction
of her own and her husband’s sexual desire thus demonstrate an instance
of Catholicism intervening to open up a woman’s sphere of activity and
influence, facilitating a new sense of equal worth and self-determination.
Ludgarda’s choosing a life of celibacy in a society that regarded voluntary
non-marriage not only as a betrayal of filial piety that interfered with the
continuation of the family name, but also as an act of disloyalty to the state,
was a clear declaration that she was no longer subject to traditional author­
ity. Again, as with all Catholics who placed their ultimate loyalty in a faith
they could choose to accept or reject, this was an act of self-determination.
Ludgarda’s embracing of martyrdom, the voluntary choice of death for the
sake of a personal conviction, implied another level of self-actualization. 74
As we saw earlier, on a practical level, the Catholic movement in Korea
did offer women more opportunities for study, travel, and leadership than
they enjoyed in traditional society. In Ludgarda’s letters, we see the more
spiritual and psychological side of this change.
Thus, in the case of Ludgarda, the traditional woman’s han (sorrow;
grievance), based on the woman’s involuntary subject position, does indeed
seem to be lessened by Catholicism. Ludgarda’s unusual marriage vows were
of her own choice, though permitted by both families, and they freed her
from many of the burdens that accompanied marriage, as did the Catholic
Church’s general teachings on marriage, which respected individual choices.
Furthermore, since the standards of morality to which Ludgarda holds
herself are the same standards expected of Catholic men—faithfulness
under suffering and persecution, purity of heart, desire for martyrdom and
union with God—she is no longer defined by the gender discrimination
that deprived Choson women of the freedoms and opportunities enjoyed
by men, though she may still be disadvantaged by them, as in the need to
marry to avoid unwanted attention or censure. And Fr. Zhou’s instructions
to her suggest that her letters and her example of faithfulness will be im­
portant for men and women alike. Accordingly, references to the burdens
and deprivations of womanhood are absent in Ludgarda’s letters.
Yet several passages reveal another burden that troubles her. Although
Ludgarda does not express fear of physical suffering and death, she does
express anxiety about sin, temptation, and physical embodiment. Ludgarda’s
letter to her sisters is especially revealing of her anxieties, and the strongest
 DEBERN IERE JANET TORREY 45

of these seems to concern her own soul. The passage in which she calls
Yoan her “faithful friend” ends with a poignant expression of this fear:

If Yoan has indeed ascended to heaven in virtue, he will not have forgotten me.
In this world his love for me was great, and now that he abides in the place of
ten-thousand blessings, he will hear me quietly calling to him in my sorrow. If I
remain faithful to my vows, this time there will be no separation between us.
When will I leave this prison and meet our Great King and Father, and the
Mother Empress of Heaven, and see my beloved father-in-law, brother-in-law, and
Yoan, and rejoice? But an exceedingly sinful person such as I can only hope, for
such a thing cannot take place so easily. 75

Ludgarda’s reunion with Yoan and her other martyred loved ones can hap­
pen only if she resists temptation and remains faithful to the end, whatever
suffering she may face. Thus she laments that her sin may keep her from
them.
Earlier in the same letter, she mentions that her main concern for Yoan was
whether or not he died in grace, and the note she receives from him—“Let
us comfort and encourage one another, and meet again in heaven”—reas­
sures her.71’ But she must likewise remain faithful for that meeting to take
place. Accordingly, Ludgarda is thankful for the likelihood of martyrdom,
which will shorten her trial and speed her soul directly to heaven. Yet, at
the end of the letter to her sisters, she again voices her fear that she might
miss this chance: “What if I live and am unable to fulfill my wish? Since this
[rather than death] is what I fear, please do not be sad if I die.”7' Elsewhere
in the same letter she recounts, as a welcome event, her being taken back to
prison after the cancellation of the exile order: “But we had traveled barely
a hundred li when we were apprehended again. This was such exceeding
favor that there can be nothing better. How can I properly give thanks? Even
after I have died, give thanks for the Lord’s grace . ” 78 As a servant in exile,
Ludgarda would likely have been forced into relations with a man, which
to her would have meant betraying her vows. Even if spared such violation,
she would have faced a lifetime of human temptation. But bodily death will
now set her free from all that threatens her purity, her righteousness, and
the otherworldly love she has shared with her husband.
Although Catholicism lessened the conditions that led to Choson women’s
han and may have facilitated the transcendence of han through spiritual
aspirations and discipline, it came with its own conditions that made hu­
man embodiment itself a burden and a source of anxiety for Ludgarda:
religious obligation, tension with the world and the “flesh,” and, most of
all, the threat of eternal damnation. Attempting to lighten these burdens
through open complaint, as a Choson woman might do in the lines of a kasa
m Religion & Literature

poem or a letter, was problematic, since these conditions were part of the
circumstances of God’s plan for salvation. A Choson woman could lament
her conditions as a woman because, in the Neo-Confucian cosmic system,
there was no one to blame—only impersonal fate and the predetermined
pattern of the universe. Hence the complaint is worded, “If only I had been
born a man,” rather than, “If only those unenlightened men would treat us
as equals.” As long as the Choson woman fulfilled the practical expectations
of womanhood and avoided acting out of resentment, she did not need to
feel guilt over her emotional response, and her private lament would not
necessarily incur condemnation . 79 But if Ludgarda, as a Catholic, were
to lament her condition of being marked from birth by original sin and
damned unless she accepts the tenets of the Catholic faith and continually
guards the gift of sanctity through careful religious observance, this would
imply a sort of grievance against God the Creator. In the Catholic instruc­
tion Ludgarda received, there would have been no precedent of anyone
legitimately complaining to God for creating the conditions for original sin.
Rather, the expression of such grievance would be considered sinful, and
to persist in it would mean to risk damnation. Thus, instead of grievance,
Ludgarda expresses self-blame.
In a study of Choson women’s kasa, Yi Chongok points out that some of
the instructive poems present the stringent duties of womanhood as a good
thing, emphasizing the honor and nobility of such duty. But Yi also notes
that the quality of exaggeration in these poems seems to mask an underlying
sorrow or grievance.80 Similarly, Ludgarda’s fervent and repeated references
to the glory of martyrdom and the need to guard her sanctity hint at a
masked and deeper anxiety. But instead of lamenting that it is unfair that
she was born guilty, Ludgarda sees her own fleshly embodiment as being the
problem. The burden of human embodiment that leads to temptation can
be overcome by will and by grace, as Ludgarda suggests in her account of
how she and Yoan were able to resist the temptation to break their vow of
perpetual virginity. But until death, its influence is constant; thus Ludgarda
says she fears not death but the possibility of remaining alive. Most certainly
her death wish is also prompted by the more human desire to join her be­
loved husband, as well as to escape the sorrow of all that has happened to
her and her loved ones. But her Catholic convictions dictate that she must
die in grace for that reunion and release to happen, and martyrdom, which
she believes will direct her soul straight to heaven, is the most immediate
means to achieve that goal.
In a sense, this burden is the price of Ludgarda’s particular agency. The
Catholic belief system is something she has chosen and can recant if she
wishes. Moreover, since the final goal in this system is not maintenance of
 D EBERNIERE JANET TORREY 47

social and cosmic order, as in the Confucian system, but the salvation of
one’s individual, immortal soul, Ludgarda is primarily dependent on herself
to attain it—not on a man, nor on her family, nor on circumstances. She
may be helped through temptation and trial by grace and by others’ prayers
for her, but the final choices are still hers.

Conclusion: Ludgarda’s Singular Voice

The life of Yi Suni Ludgarda and the letters she wrote while imprisoned
as a criminal for choosing a religious identity not sanctioned by the state
demonstrate how Catholicism facilitated a mode of being quite different
from what was expected of a Choson woman. Ludgarda was able not only
to choose her husband but to enter into an intentionally childless mar­
riage. Although Catholicism was part of her family identity, she was free to
leave it, and, by the same token, she was fully and individually responsible
for her choices and the punishment they incurred. She composed a writ­
ten record that diverged in form and theme from what was expected of a
Choson woman, and this record would be meaningful to men and women
alike. It was her spiritual and practical experience as an individual, not as
a representative woman, that was meaningful to the Catholic community,
and she believed that this individual experience impacted her final destiny.
Yet this liberation from many of the restrictions of Choson womanhood
came with a burden particular to Ludgarda’s Catholicism: anxiety over her
fleshly, human embodiment. Thus, unlike a Choson woman who might
complain in writing about the conditions of her han (since the blame rested
with fate), Ludgarda does not openly ask why God has loaded the dice by
creating her with human weaknesses that threaten her salvation. Instead,
she renders herself as fully responsible for her human weaknesses.
Ludgarda’s Catholic identity enables an aspect of human expression that
is unique in the context of late Choson. Catholic belief in the immortality
of the human soul introduced a new sense of individual transcendence
that contrasted with the Confucian view of the individual as part of a fixed
social pattern that mirrored the larger cosmic pattern. This Catholic view
of the soul facilitated recognition of a person’s inner life and spiritual aspi­
rations, even to the point of encouraging and preserving autobiographical
and confessional writing. 81 Thus, Ludgarda’s letters stand out against the
general contours of Choson women’s literature not only for their depiction
of Catholic subjectivity but also for their uniquely autobiographical and
confessional mode of expression.
Granted, a few of the later Choson women’s kasa reveal a subtle devia­
tion in content from the expectations and burdens specific to generic worn-
48 Religion & Literature

anhood, giving way instead to stronger expressions of individuality. For

instance, “Flongssi puin byenyo ka” (Lady Hong’s song of instruction) (late
nineteenth century), although written in the tradition of moral instruction,
features the writer’s own opinions and experiences. Another such example
is “Ssangbyok ka” (A song of two stars” (1794), written by Yi of Yonan82 to
commemorate the promotion of her son and nephew to official status. At
first glance the poem appears to celebrate traditional values, but Yi draws
attention to herself through a long section describing her life, her suffering,
and her eventual triumph, thus celebrating her own success as an individual.
In a different vein, “Myogdo chat’an sa” (A song lamenting fate) (1801), Yun
of Namwon’s lament over the death of her husband, is another unusual
case. Third-person accounts of yollyo who followed their husbands into
death—as Yun herself does—were common, but Yun’s narrative is unique
in that it offers a first-person account dominated not by the theme of dutiful
loyalty but by the subjective experience of grief, despair, and remembrance
of tender affection.83
Yet these and other pieces that move away from the generic and toward the
individual still do not reveal the degree of inwardness and self-consciousness
found in Ludgarda’s letters. The Catholic emphasis on the immortal soul
marries inwardness to individualism and extends the consciousness of self
to a place not bound by time and space.
Even Ludgarda’s lament over her fleshly embodiment, while stopping
short of what might have been a candid complaint about the burdens of
piety, amplifies the uniqueness of her letters. Lacy Smith argues that “self-
confidence reinforced by deadly self-seriousness is the common property of
all martyrs.”84 Ludgarda’s voice is, indeed, self-serious, but it loses much of
its confidence by the second letter, becoming more vulnerable and genu­
ine. Ludgarda might not feel free to voice complaint, as do the authors of
yotan (woman’s lament) literature, but she does experience and express deep
anxiety about her limitations.
In their very personal and individual content, Ludgarda’s letters offer
a distinct portrait of her person, through what is said and what is veiled.
And in spite of her limitations, she achieves martyrdom, by which she is
further memorialized. Smith notes that “in giving up life the martyr, far from
destroying self, reinvigorates it,” but only when the martyr’s reputation is
also honored.85 Ludgarda succeeded on this account. In effect, her unique
autobiographical record and her martyrdom worked together to reinforce
her immortality in the record of Korean Catholicism.

University of Utah
 DEBERJNIERE JANET TORREY 49

NOTES

1. In 1779, several Confucian scholars met to discuss Catholic texts that had been trans­
mitted from China. Yi Sunghun, a member of this study group, became the first baptized
Korean during a trip to Beijing in 1784, after which regular meetings of interested scholars
continued. Thus, although no Catholic missionaries had yet begun work in Korea, a Korean
Catholic base was established among a small group of Confucian scholars. Some of these ini­
tial members left the Catholic movement when they learned about Rome’s injunction against
ancestor rites, a requirement of their Confucian practice, but the movement continued to
grow, especially among women and members of the lower classes. When a Catholic priest,
Zho Wenmou, arrived secretly from China in 1795, the movement had already grown to
about four thousand members without the help of ordained leadership. Major persecutions
followed in 1801, 1839, 1846, and 1866, with numerous smaller persecutions in between,
resulting in the deaths of thousands of Catholics throughout most of the nineteenth century
(high estimates give ten thousand deaths). Persecution stopped with the signing of a treaty
between Korea and France in 1886 (the Catholic mission in Korea was an outreach of the
Missions Etrangeres de Paris).
2. The Catholic name for God in China and Korea.
3. In Korean Catholic texts, names of Catholics are given in the order of the Korean
name followed by the baptismal name. When the given name is omitted, the Korean sur­
name is followed by the baptismal name (e.g., Yi Anna). I will use baptismal names unless
the person is better known by his or her Korean name (e.g., Hwang SavOng).
4. Hwang, “Paekso,” 198.
5. “Kiliae Egi,” n.p.
6. Claude-Charles Dallet (1829-1878) was a missionary to India and never traveled to
Korea. But after his return from the mission field, he collected and classified documents
of the Catholic movement in Korea, most of which had been prepared by Bishop Antoine
Duveluy, martyred in Korea in 1866. These provided the material for Dallet’s Histoire de
I’Eglise de Coree, published in Paris in 1874.
7. Dallet, 294. Unless otherwise indicated, translations from French and Korean are
my own.
8. The only study I have found that offers a critical view of the impact of Catholicism
on Choson women is by Song Chiyon, who focuses on the situation of Catholic women after
the introduction of French Catholic priests to Korea later in the nineteenth century. Song
points to tension between the clergy and Catholic women who wished to remain single, and
argues that, in these cases, Confucian patriarchy was merely replaced by Catholic patriarchy
(“Choson sidae ch’onjugyo yosong ui yoksa,” 59-68).
9. Kim Yunsong, “ C h’onjugyo songin konggyong e natanan,” 145-47. See also Kim
Chonggyong, who notes that the Choson state’s persecution of Catholic women inad­
vertently led to their acknowledgement of women as individual subjects (“Choson hugi
C h’onjugyo yosindodul,” 150-51).
10. Kim Chongsuk, “Sohak suyong kwa yosong kwan,” 48; see also 57, 78.
11. “ 103 Korean Martyr Saints,” n.p.; “Lives of the 124 Korean Martyrs,” n.p.
12. Chong Kilja, Kyubang kasa ui sajdk chongae, 48.
13. Chong Haeun, “Pongon ch’eje ui tongyo,” 246, 250.
14. Haboush, Epistolary Korea, 361.
15. Yi Suni’s baptismal name is a variant on the name of St. Ludgardis (1182-1246),
a Flemish nun.
50 Religion & Literature

16. On the religious significance of Ludgarda’s letters, see Chong Tuhi, Sinang uiyokarul
ch’ajasb', Kim Chinso, “Yi Suni Rugalda salm kwa midum sari”; Kim Okhui, Rugalda ui
salm, and Yi Insik, “Han’guk kyohoesa e nat’anan tongjSng pubu ui yongsong.” Yi Yujin, in
“Value and Interpretative Problems,” evaluates modern interpretations of several ambigu­
ous details from the letters, comparing the authoritative Kim Chongnyun transcription with
other transcriptions, including the one in Dallet’s Histoire de I’Eglise de Com. In her survey
of Catholicism’s impact on women in late Choson, Kim Chongsuk mentions Ludgarda
while arguing that the option of perpetual virginity (a Catholic custom in which a married
couple vowed to abstain from sexual relations to devote themselves to spiritual work) helped
a woman preserve her individual identity (“Sohak suyong kwa yosong kwan,” 52). Similarly,
Kim Yunsong refers to Ludgarda in a discussion of female initiative as reflected in cases of
perpetual virginity (“C h’onjugyo songin konggyong e natanan,” 156). In a more literary
mode, Yi Sunghi compares Yi Suni’s letters to a first-generation didactic text attributed to
a Catholic woman to point out how the letters, written by a second-generation Catholic,
reveal the more fully developed impact of Catholicism on female consciousness (“Choson
hugi Ch’onjugyo yuip kwa yosong ui uisik pyonhwa”). Also, Kim Chonggyong analyses
the narrative structure of the letters in a discussion of how the introduction of Catholicism
resulted in a new signification of death for Choson women (“Choson hugi C h’onjugyo
yosindodul ui chugum”).
17. Haboush, Epistolary Korea, 363-69. The only other instance of writings by Catholics
anthologized alongside non-Catholic Choson writings is C h’oe, Lee, and de Bary, Sources of
Korean Tradition. This book also contains excerpts from Hwang Sayong’s letter to the bishop
of Beijing and Chong Hasang’s appeal to the court in defense of Catholics during the
persecution of 1839 (135-40).
18. Chong Pyongsol, Chugum ul nomoso.
19. Kim Okhui, Rugalda ui salm, 22.
20. Yi Suni, “Yi Ludgarda ka tu onni ege ponaen p’yonji,” 76.
21. Chong Haeun, “Pongon ch’eje ui tongyo,” 226.
22. Deuchler, “Propagating Female Virtues,” 165.
23. Lee, Ideology, Culture, and Han, 98.
24. For further discussions of Kang and Im, see the following: Kim Youngmin, “Neo-
Confucianism as Free-Floating Resource” and “Voices of Female Confucians in Late ChosSn
Korea”; Yi Hyesun, “K ang Chongildang-ui ye tamnon,” Choson hugiyosong chisongsa, and
“Kotong ul palp’an sama p’ionan chisong.”
25. “Kim Taebi hunmin ka,” n.p.
26. “KyeyO ka,” n.p.
27. Kim Yongsuk, Chosonjoybryu munhak uiydn’gu, 8; Supil munhakyon’gu, 58. See the fol­
lowing examples from Haboush’s Epistolary Korea: Queen Dowager Inmok’s letter to Lady
Min Chongbin recounting her trials during the reign of her cruel stepson, Kwanghae
(201-2); letters of greeting between royal and aristocratic women (222-3); Madam Kang’s
letter to her daughter lamenting her husband’s consorting with another woman (272); and
letters from married daughters to members of their natal families expressing their longing
for home (308-1 1).
28. See “M other’s Letters of Instruction” in Haboush, Epistolary Korea, 287-91.
29. See Haboush’s 1996 translation, The Memoirs of Lady Hyegyong Hong.
30. Lee offers a detailed treatment of the concept of han in Ideology, Culture, and Han.
31. Uriyosong uiyoksa, 605.
32. Yi Chongok, Naebang kasa ui hyang’yujayon’gu, 57-69.
33. “Sach’in ka,” n.p.
 DEBERNIERE JANET TORREY 51

34. “Kyongye sara,” qtd. in Yi Chongok, 57.

35. “Yoia t’ansik k a n . p .
36. Ibid.
37. Ibid.; “C h’ongnyon chat’an ka,” qtd. in Yi Chongok, 67.
38. Yi Chongok, 68-70.
39. Chong Kilja, Kyubang kasa ui sajok chongae, 11.
40. Cho SSnyong, Kasa munhak kwa Tuhak sasang, 264; Chong Kilja, Kyubang kasa ui sajok
chongae, 11.
41. Yi Chongok, 53-7; Yang, “Kyubang kasa yosongsong ui t’amsek,” 170-74, 201,
215-19.
42. Kim Yongsuk, Chosonjoyoryu munhak uiydn’gu.
43. Ledyard, “Kollumba Kang Wansuk,” 38.
44. In homes where Catholics worshipped, seating may have remained segregated, but
men and women gathered at the same time in the same room, women received teaching
from men, and women received communion from Fr. Zhou.
45. Chong Haeun, “Pongon ch’eje ui tongyo,” 248.
46. Cho Kwang, “Human Relations,” 32.
47. Kim Chongsuk, “Sohak suyong kwa yosong kwan,” 53-61.
48. Lee, Ideology, Culture, and Han, 36.
49. Most secondary sources on Ludgarda give her birth year as 1781 or 1782, basing their
conclusions on details from Dallet’s Histoire. However, the text of a recently-discovered letter
written in 1811 by several Choson Catholics gives Ludgarda’s age at the time of martyrdom
as twenty-three (twenty-two in Western age). Chong Pyongsol discusses this issue in his book
and convincingly argues that this letter, based on its date and the identity of its authors,
likely presents the most accurate record of Yi Sum’s age (Chugum ul nomoso, 62-64). I have
adopted Chong’s conclusions in giving Ludgarda’s birth year as 1779.
50. See Baker’s discussion of the motives of the first Korean Catholics in Korean Spiri­
tuality, 64—6.
51. The following details of Ludgarda’s life, imprisonment, and execution are drawn
from Kim Chinso’s history of the Chonju Diocese (Ch’onjugyo Chonju kyogusa, 177-82); Kim
Chinso’s introduction to a volume containing Ludgarda’s letters (“Yi Suni Rugalda salm kwa
midum sari”); and the letters themselves. An account of Ludgarda’s life and martyrdom,
as well as the text of her two prison letters, can also be found in Dallet’s record (Histoire de
I’Eglise de Corn, 176-97).
52. Kim Okhui, Rugalda ui salm, 13.
53. See Chong Pyongsol, Chugum ul nomoso, 95-103.
54. Yi Suni, “Yi Ludgarda ka tu onni ege ponaen p’yonji,” 77.
55. Ibid., 78.
56. For a discussion of the identity of these women, see Chong Pyongsol, Chugum ul
nomoso, 86-95.
57. See, for instance, the H a daughters’ letters in Haboush, Epistolary Korea, 307-11.
58. Yi Suni, “Yi Ludgarda ka omoni ege ponaen p ’yonji,” 73-74.
59. Yi Suni, “Yi Ludgarda ka tu onni ege ponaen p ’yonji,” 81.
60. In the letter to her mother, Ludgarda is less emotional, remaining focused on report­
ing what has happened and on reassuring her mother. But the circumstances of persecution
that are communicated in the letter likewise give it a distinctly sorrowful tone.
61. Yi Suni, “Yi Ludgarda ka tu onni ege ponaen p’yonji,” 86.
62. Ibid., 81-2, 86.
63. Yi Suni, “Yi Ludgarda ka omoni ege ponaen p ’yonji,” 73-4.
52 Religion & Literature

64. Ibid., 73; Yi Suni, “Yi Ludgarda ka tu onni ege ponaen p’yonji,” 81.
65. Supil munhakyon’gu, 121.
66. Dallet, Histoire de I’Eglise de Corn, 182—96.
67. See also Yi Sunghi’s brief discussion of the significance of Ludgarda’s marriage
relationship, (“Choson hugi C h’onjugyo yuip kwa yosong ui uisik pyonhwa,” 138-139). Yi
also points out that Ludgarda’s use of the term “holy woman and wise wife” as the goal for
one of her younger female relatives, instead of the traditional “wise mother and good wife,”
further indicates a shift in assumption about the role of women, from that of child-bearer
to spiritual example.
68. Yi Suni, “Yi Ludgarda ka tu onni ege ponaen p ’yonji,” 85.
69. Wing-Tsit Chan elaborates as follows: “Although the Confucian five human relations
are established on the basis of mutual moral obligation, at the same time the thought was
inherent in the Confucian system that the ruler, the father, and the husband are superior to
the ruled, the son, and the wife” (Source Book, 277).
70. Kim Yunsong, “Ch’onjugyo songin konggydng e natanan,” 156.
71. See also ibid.
72. Yi Suni, “Yi Ludgarda ka omoni ege ponaen p ’ydnji,” 74—75.
73. Yi Suni, “Yi Ludgarda ka tu onni ege ponaen p ’yonji,” 78.
74. See also Straw, “‘A Very Special Death,”’ 44, and Smith, Fools, Martyrs, Traitors, 363.
75. Yi Suni, “Yi Ludgarda ka tu onni ege ponaen p’yonji,” 85.
76. Ibid., 78.
77. Ibid., 86.
78. Ibid., 79.
79. Lament in women’s literature was “private” in that any intended readership was
other women, and it did not enter public discourse.
80. Yi Chongok, Naebang kasa ui hyang’yuja yon’gu, 54.
81. See also Kim Chonggyong’s discussion of the significance of Ludgarda’s confes­
sional mode within the Choson context (“Choson hugi Ch’onjugyo yosindodul ui chugum,”
146-151).
82. Women were generally referenced by their surnames.
83. See also Pak Muyong’s discussion of other unique voices in Choson women’s writing
(“Sarajin moksori rul ch’ajaso”).
84. Smith, Fools, Martyrs, Traitors, 363.
85. Ibid., 364.

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Copyright of Religion & Literature is the property of Religion & Literature and its content
may not be copied or emailed to multiple sites or posted to a listserv without the copyright
holder's express written permission. However, users may print, download, or email articles for
individual use.