The Court Dancer

by Kyung-Sook Shin

  Watters had requested an audience several times to formally make his farewell, but the palace had complied only two days before he was to set sail. He had already sent his dress uniform off with his other luggage, thinking the palace was never going to answer him. He had only his evening tails with him, but he had assumed he would have the opportunity to explain once he was in the King’s presence. But he was forced to leave without having introduced his successor to the King.

  Victor, who considered it his duty to avoid mistakes and leave a good impression, polished his already polished silver and gold stars and epaulets one more time. He combed the tassels on his chest and pulled at the sash on his shoulder so that it lay flat. He palmed a few drops of oil and smoothed down his hair and beard. He paused to think after taking a long look up and down at his reflection and, gathering up his courage, took his new camera and slipped it into its hiding place inside his vest. The camera’s forty-millimeter lens fit neatly into a buttonhole. Surreptitiously pulling on a wire in his pocket would enable him to take photos. Victor liked the fact that he could also mount the camera on a tripod when he needed to. Having become a fan of photography five years ago, he was intrigued by this camera built for secret photography.

  The King was to receive him at eleven in the morning, but he set out an hour beforehand, so he would arrive with time to spare.

  The ground was muddied from the rains in the night.

  But the vegetable patch in front of the legation building looked beautifully fresh in its cover of rainwater droplets. Victor could see the outlines of the Russian legation building beyond. The sight of this building made him think that France had come too late. Two years had already passed since Korea petitioned France to send a legation. Victor was the first French legate to enter Korea with a letter of credence from the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs. When Victor arrived in Jaemulpo Harbor via China, an official from the Board for Diplomacy and Trade came all the way from Seoul to escort him. Once he had made sure that Victor had the necessary authority as the French legate to Korea, he joyfully declared that the King would be informed immediately of Victor’s arrival.

  What made the most lasting impression of Korea on Victor’s way from Jaemulpo to Seoul was the ubiquitous presence of burial mounds, whether on low hills or between the mountain pines. He had wondered aloud what these round, grassy mounds were that not only dotted the mountains but also the embankments that bordered the fields or any sunny side of a hill near the villages. Burial mounds, he was told. The sight inspired the same strange feeling of witnessing a heat shimmer in the distance. Such a round, cozy, and green home for the dead. The thought of living in this country where the living and the dead lived together made him feel nervous and excited at the same time.

  Victor wanted to walk the Path of the Four Symbols and the Road of the Six Offices that stretched from the main gate of the palace that was in turn tucked into the arms of Inwangsan Mountain, but the interpreter official informed him that walking before the main gate was forbidden. Victor had no choice but to ride in the palanquin. He was thrown about inside whenever the carriers jumped to avoid puddles, which made him take special care with his uniform. When he was let off before the main gate where the great stone tigers stood guard, a Chinese-speaking official approached to help guide him into the palace. Victor aimed at the stone tigers and pulled the cord in his pocket. He also took photos of the dragons carved into the three headstones of the main gate without the official noticing. Once in the palace, they had to make their way to the reception hall across streams and bridges to meet the King.

  They were passing a pond surrounded by granite stones.

  Young palace girls in yellow jackets and pink skirts, smiling and teasing one another, were surprised by Victor’s appearance. They stared at his hair, brown not black, and the paleness of his skin. The fancy dress uniform also must have been a sight. When Victor stopped in his tracks, the palace girls immediately broke into a run, bursting into laughter as they did so. One of the young girls looked as if she’d seen a ghost. Victor pulled the wire at the girls running spiritedly away. As he watched them disappear, the official told him they were the youngest of the court ladies training to be official attendants.

  —Do they live in the palace from a young age?

  —Yes, so they can acquire the virtues of court ladies.

  —What do they learn?

  —The ways and traditions of the palace, singing and dancing, the healing arts, classical literature, and Korean writing.

  The clear waters of the Silk Stream ran underneath one of the bridges leading to where the King resided. Having stopped to take in the sight of the stream, Victor spotted a senior court lady attendant and a junior one walking over the curve of the bridge toward them. The older court lady wore blue slippers and her step was confident, a walk that spoke of pride in her position. Victor aimed his camera toward the younger court lady behind her, the one in red slippers who was following her superior.

  Some eyes contain destinies.

  The official felt something was amiss and looked back at Victor. Victor and the younger court lady were also looking back at each other. In the moment their eyes met, Victor felt nailed to the spot. It was because the court lady’s deep, dark gaze was one of friendliness. It was the first time that Victor had met a Korean gaze that wasn’t teasing, surprised, or curious but simply kind. But it wasn’t just this friendliness that made him stop in his tracks. It was because he was faced with a sudden memory, a face he had thought forgotten coming back to him through the sparkling dark eyes of this young court lady. He felt as if his feelings were riding on rapid waters.

  Without even realizing it, Victor greeted the woman, who had her hands gently clasped before her, in French.

  —Bonjour.

  To his surprise, she responded in kind.

  —Bonjour.

  Victor couldn’t believe his ears. A woman in court lady attire in a Korean palace had just spoken French. Overwhelmed and confused, Victor instinctively pulled the wire again, capturing the dark eyes of the young woman. The court lady drew in her slight smile, dropped her gaze downward, and lightly turned away. It was like seeing a butterfly sitting on a trumpet vine fold its wings. He quickly pulled the wire again and caught the profile of the woman as she turned back toward her superior. Her jade-green tunic and indigo skirt, and the silk jacket she had thrown over it, all fluttered in the early summer breeze.

  Victor pondered what had just happened as he followed the official again along the stream toward the reception hall. Bonjour. The court lady had clearly answered him in French. He suppressed the urge to ask the official if he had also heard her say it.

  He forgot about his plan to photograph the things that caught his fancy as the memory of the girl’s dark eyes filled his mind. They reminded him of his birthplace, which he had not thought of in a long while. The village of Plancy, in the northeast of France. His novelist father, an Irish immigrant. His mother, who loved to write and recite her own poetry. Victor sighed deeply. And Marie, the only girl in Plancy with black hair and dark eyes. The village of Plancy had humiliated Victor’s family as well as bestowing upon him the ambition to leave it. Once the family moved to Paris, the Collin de Plancys forgot about the village they had once called home. Victor had not been back since. Thinking about it only brought him pain. It was even more unexpected that he would be thinking about it in a royal palace in a faraway land in the East.

  —What could her name be?

  The official walking in front of him turned around and gave him a look as if to ask, What could whose name be?

  —The court lady we just saw.

  —Lady Attendant Kim or Choi or Park, no doubt.

  —Excuse me?

  —That’s what we call them in the palace.

  Victor looked up at the towering pine that was spreading a wide shadow.

  —You must not covet the court ladies of the palace.

  The official seemed to have sensed the ripples in h
is heart.

  —All the women in the palace belong to His Majesty. To covet the King’s women is to commit an unpardonable crime that will bring your bloodline to an end.

  Victor smiled a private, pained smile at the official’s admonishment.

  The stream flowed from the northwestern side of the reception hall’s gate toward the south. Water flows when it is free, and pools when it is stopped. When the obstacle is removed, water flows once more. The official politely spoke again when they had followed the water up to another bridge.

  —Auspicious waters. It flows with the hopes for the people of the palace to go about their care of the country with a clear and virtuous heart.

  —I see that the desire to learn from water is the same in both the East and West.

  Victor said this before he could be overtaken by old memories that were rapidly surfacing like the bubbles from a waterfall.

  —Here we are.

  They stopped before the Hall of Diligent Governance. A pillared wall surrounded it on four sides. The official pointed to the pavilion, rising amidst large flagstones, and told him that this was the seat of Korea’s political decision-making. Its giant, solid wooden pillars held up a tiled roof adorned with colorful dragon heads. The palaces of the Qing Dynasty had floors made of baked mud bricks, but Korea’s palaces stood on granite. A white, rocky peak above seemed to gaze down benevolently upon the Hall of Diligent Governance.

  Victor sat on a chair in the waiting room until the King’s attendant announced him.

  The waiting room was small, but it looked out toward a path leading into a thick pine forest. Unlike China, where chairs were everywhere, Korea was said to resist their use. But here in the waiting room was what appeared to be a Western table and chairs, possibly Qing imports. The vase on the table held an early hydrangea bloom. As Victor admired it and took in the forest path outside the window, English biscuits were brought in for him, as well as, surprisingly, French wine and tobacco from Manila. An official informed him that the King was being delayed by his annual royal visit. Victor was perplexed. Seeing this, the official explained that the royal visit referred to the King partaking in ancestral ceremonies at the royal burial grounds. He had returned late the previous night, which was why he was delayed this morning.

  Victor waited for a long time.

  Presently, the official returned to announce Victor to the King. Passing through two doors, they came upon a wide hall. The King sat behind a table, his council standing behind and to either side of him and wearing their palace robes with their backs bent in deference to the King’s presence. An interpreter was present to aid in the formal reception.

  Victor looked up toward the center where the King sat. The dragons carved into his armrests looked real enough to be alive, and the eight-panel folding screen that stood behind the throne seemed to protect the monarch. And there the King of Korea’s Joseon Dynasty sat, a man with a thin mustache and a generous smile.

  —Welcome.

  The official who brought Victor into the hall fell to his knees. Victor began to follow his example, but the King stopped him.

  —That is unnecessary. You may follow your own customs.

  Victor reverentially bowed his head.

  —We have heard you arrived here on the third. Do not be disheartened that we summoned you almost ten days after.

  —I have just heard of your royal visit, Your Majesty.

  —Yes. We returned yesterday.

  The King’s movements were restrained, his voice low.

  —Have you brought your letter of credence?

  —I have.

  The King’s gentle eyes never lost their smile. The King seemed to like him, Victor thought. Trying not to ruin this first impression, Victor took care to bow whenever answering the King’s questions.

  Korea had long practiced a self-imposed seclusion from the outside world and was only beginning to open its doors. It was inevitable that the country would be thrown amidst powerful nations intent on their own gains. Outside cultures brought dramatic changes to daily life, the new dizzily mixing with the old.

  —How did you find your voyage?

  —There were some storms, but the waters were generally calm.

  —And how is your president?

  Victor handed over the letter from Marie François Sadi Carnot announcing his election as president of France. The King seemed satisfied as he listened to the interpreter’s reading.

  —We are glad to have a legation from France in Korea. You will inform France of our country’s situation and usher in a new harmonious era between our two nations.

  —I shall do my utmost, Your Majesty.

  Korea was trying to balance the influence of outside powers. Russia was interested in obtaining a harbor of lower latitude than Vladivostok, Britain seized Geomun Island to block such Russian efforts and renamed it Port Hamilton, and China, which already had power over the Kingdom, used the Imoh Army Revolt as an excuse to establish an administrative center in Korea. Ostensibly it was to check Japan’s expansion into the country, but it was more to interfere with Korea’s internal affairs.

  —You must find many difficulties living in a new country.

  Victor bowed in appreciation of the King’s concern.

  —If there is anything you require, speak.

  —There is one request I might make, Your Majesty.

  —What is it?

  —Allow me to take photographs inside the palace. I wish to capture the beauty of Korea’s palaces.

  —Is that all?

  —It is.

  He wanted to take a portrait of the King, but there was no need to try him in their first meeting.

  —I confess I do have a camera concealed in my vest, but I wanted to inform Your Majesty as I felt I was doing wrong.

  —You have a camera in your garment?

  —I do.

  —How small is it?

  —It was made in America two years ago. One puts it in one’s vest and takes photographs. The lens looks like a button from the outside. I do wonder if it was built to take photos secretly. Fifteen thousand of these models were sold as soon as it was invented. There must be many people who want to take secret photos. And I must be one of those people.

  The King laughed out loud.

  —Will you take a photo of me?

  —It is impossible indoors. There isn’t enough light.

  —That is too bad.

  The King’s expression suggested he truly meant it.

  —If it pleases Your Majesty, we could go outside. And I would bring the photo the next time I have an audience with you.

  Victor had thought it unlikely, but the King acquiesced and rose from the throne. His council was thrown into confusion by his sudden movement. They urged him not to do it. One even said that photography stole the soul of the photographed.

  —What is this nonsense? Did Ji Wuyoung not take a photograph of me once and show it to me? Do you persist, still, in believing such stories?

  The King shook off their objections and stood beneath the entrance of the Hall of Diligent Governance.

  To take a photo is to awaken the senses. Simply measuring one’s distance to the subject is to store a new memory of that subject.

  Victor, for the first time since entering the palace, properly aimed at what he was photographing and pulled the wire. The King’s council, still up in arms, kept calling out to the King. “Your Majesty! Your Majesty!”

  When the King returned to his throne, there was a satisfied smile on his lips as if he had done something terribly amusing. Victor was intrigued. The King seemed uncomplicated and introverted on the surface, but he clearly appreciated new cultural experiences. The King would have been happy to receive the gift of Sèvres porcelain that the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs had provided, Victor thought with regret. The porcelain should’ve arrived by now, but the Japanese shipping company had delayed its arrival.

  —How diverting. In a short while, we shall hold a banquet in hon
or of your appointment here and see each other again.

  —I am grateful, Your Majesty.

  He was never to show his back to the King. Victor left His Majesty’s audience by walking backward and sideways in observance of the rules. His forehead was beaded with sweat. He followed the same path he had entered, the dirt trails beneath his feet made into clay by the rain from the night before. He looked about, hoping he would see that court lady who seemed as light as a butterfly but had dark eyes full of sadness. But it came to naught.

  When Victor returned to the legation office, he asked Secretary Guérin for the quickest photography studio in Korea. He wanted to see the picture of the court lady he had met near the Silk Stream bridge. He did not tell Guérin his real reason, saying only that he was curious how the photo of the King would come out.

  —Are you saying you’ve managed to take the King’s picture?

  —I did, I’m telling you.

  —Photography is forbidden in the palace. But how surprising that you’ve managed to take a photo of the King himself! Such a thing is permitted only through a complicated procedure.

  Victor said it hadn’t been difficult as the King had requested it himself. Guérin’s eyes shone when Victor mentioned that the King had allowed him to freely take photos inside the palace.

  —Congratulations!

  Victor was taken aback.

  —You see, this tells you how much the King welcomes you here. There are diplomats who have waited for months to have their first audience with the King, and many were promised an appointment only to be turned away at the palace gate. Being kept waiting for hours in the waiting room is a given. But you were granted an audience just days after your arrival, and the fact that the King went against the palace rules for you to take his picture is a rather unexpected favor.

  Victor felt reassured. But the King’s favor was surely not for him but for the French government. That night, as part of his official duties as French legate to Korea, he wrote a letter to the French Foreign Minister reporting on his audience with the King.