Was it like a branch shaken by the wind?
Was it like the scattering of golden sand?
The dancer raised one hand high and the other hand low, lifting and dropping her feet in rhythm. She took three steps forward and raised her arms above her head. She did a movement symbolizing the raising of a tower. Was she catching flower petals blowing in the breeze? Her hands meandered freely in the air. There was a faint smile on her face as if she were privately admiring flowers in bloom. The smile was part of the dance, but it took Victor’s breath away. Her right hand floated up and down like a blossom fallen on flowing water, and her left sprinkled imaginary petals in the air. The dancer’s face was infused with melancholy as she withdrew her smile. Victor sensed in her an emotion that the previous eight dancers had not conveyed.
On the day of his first audience with the King, Victor had gone to Hwang Cheol Photography in Namchon’s Jingogae neighborhood to develop the photographs he’d takem with his concealed vest camera. He had first met the Korean photographer Hwang Cheol at a photography store when he lived in China. Hwang spoke Chinese fluently and was so passionate about cameras and photography that his excitement carried over to those around him. Hwang had planned to learn photography in China and then visit Japan to observe the studios in Nagasaki, Kobe, Osaka, and Kyoto. When Victor heard Hwang had a studio in Jingogae, Victor felt as if he had chanced upon an old friend. Koreans did not like being photographed. Photography supplies were, consequently, hard to find. Thinking he might be in frequent need of Hwang’s help during his Korea posting, Victor had taken it upon himself to visit the studio in person. He had also been eager to see the face of the court lady again, the one he had met on the Silk Stream bridge.
Hwang’s eyes had grown wide when he learned that Victor had photographed the face of the King. Only Ji Wuyoung had managed to have done so in the past. Even then, the King’s council had kicked up a great fuss, and Ji had barely managed to get away with it. Perhaps Hwang had been eager to see the King’s face himself, but thanks to his expedience, Victor was able to see the court lady’s face as well, if only through a photograph.
In the picture the court lady’s eyes regarded him without teasing or surprise. They showed only friendliness, as if she knew who he was. There was also a shot of her without her smile, just turning to follow the senior court lady who was leading her. There was another one of her in her green jacket and long indigo skirt, descending the Silk Stream bridge. Would he ever meet her again? He had placed the photos in a drawer and looked at them often. But here she was now, dancing right before his eyes.
He was not the only one gazing intently at the dancer as she directed her line of gaze at one spot and flipped her wide, fluttering sleeves. Whether he was taken by the Dance of the Spring Oriole or seduced by the beauty of the palace dancer, the King also had a satisfied smile on his face and did not take his eyes off her for a moment. Yeon, who was accompanying the dance on his bamboo daegeum flute with “Sangyoung Mountain” from the Music of the New Willow Leaves, was also transfixed by Jin’s dancing. The stares of the three men lingered upon her as her dance progressed. The Queen watched the King and Victor, both of whom seemed to have lost their hearts to the dancer. The King turned from the dancer to the Queen, and their eyes met. The King gave an embarrassed grin.
That child is like a musk-scented deer.
She is so exceptional that if she does not die young, she should be exiled to a faraway land.
If you keep her close, she will steal the King’s heart.
Despite remembering the shaman woman’s words, the Queen made herself smile when her eyes met the King’s. She had tried to forget the prophecy. She sighed as she recalled the memory of Jin’s devastated face when she had ordered her transferred from the Queen’s Chambers to the Embroidery Chamber. The Queen had known her since Jin was five. Jin wanted to leave the palace when her companionship of the Dowager Consort Cheolin ended, but it was the Queen herself who had called Jin to the Queen’s Chambers and made her a junior court lady.
The light rain falling on the pond surrounding the pavilion was drenching the spiderwebs on the reeds and lotus pads. The Queen frowned as she looked out at the water. Jin had been at the Queen’s side as she grew into a young woman, as well as through the humiliations of the Year of the Red Tiger and the Gapsin Coup. During every crisis that threatened her life, there she was by the Queen with her head bowed. The child is like a musk-scented deer. Until the shaman had said so, the Queen had never considered Jin as a woman. She was a dear child, a lovely girl, a beautiful dancer, and a wise confidante. It was against the internal rules of the palace, but the Queen often made her sit close to her. She had Jin read to her and write letters and sometimes tasked her with styling her hair. Upon the shaman woman’s words, the little child with the tearful eyes to whom she had fed spoonfuls of pear flesh was transformed into a woman of unparalleled beauty.
With the sound of the bak, the dancer walked in a large circle, her robe flapping like that of an immortal hermit of the mountains crossing a heavenly bridge. Her dance silenced the entire pavilion, save for the music of the daegeum flute that encircled the banquet like the sound of the wind. When the dancer gently brought her hands together, and her sleeves fell narrowly to her sides, the Queen was the first to clap. Jin gave a start at the sound. The diplomats also began clapping. Even the interpreters, who seemed uncertain as to whether they should or not, awkwardly put their hands together. To clap for everyone is the same as clapping for no one. Only Victor, among the diplomats, was not applauding the dancer.
—The French legate is not impressed by the dance.
Victor, too enraptured by Jin to even think of clapping, turned his head to the Queen. The music had ceased, and Jin had gathered her sleeves and was moving away from the stage like a bird flying back to its nest.
—Lady Attendant Suh.
The Queen called for her. Jin, whose feet were already making her exit from the stage, could not believe her ears. Did the Queen just call her name? For a moment, she thought she was hallucinating.
—This banquet is in honor of the French legate, but it seems he is the only one not applauding. Perhaps he does not like your dancing.
—Your Majesty.
Jin breathed in and bowed low. Hearing the Queen say the opposite of what he was feeling, Victor felt he needed to speak up, but the tense mood stifled his voice. The diplomats looked from the Queen to the dancer and back again.
—And what shall you do about it?
—Forgive me, Your Majesty.
Jin’s forehead was beaded with sweat.
—How shall you satisfy the French legate?
Jin was as surprised by the Queen’s reaction as anyone else. Nothing like this had ever happened before. When the dancers finished a dance, they brought their sleeves together and disappeared from the stage as if they had never existed in the first place. Clapping was forbidden in the palace. Jin was unable to exit the stage as she waited for the Queen to speak again. The droplets of sweat on her forehead fell upon the straw mat below.
The Queen was not unaware of how exceptionally Jin had performed the Dance of the Spring Oriole. It wasn’t only because the Queen personally asked her to. From her first step onward, Jin approved of how the ground itself felt against her feet. Her waist had smoothly ridden the rhythm, and her sleeves lightly fluttered as if underwater. She couldn’t see his face, but once she realized it was Yeon playing the daegeum, her heart swelled with her longing for the woman Suh and her gladness for Yeon’s presence. This longing and gladness had eased her nervousness, freeing her heart for the dance.
—Did I not ask you a question? What will you do for the legate?
No one can be struck by beauty without even a trace of envy.
The Queen glared at Jin, whose whole body, despite the robe covering its length, radiated with the vividness of a living songbird. How beautiful she is, the Queen’s heart sighed. She was as silent as the dancer herself who was like a tree
in summer, a peach blossom, or a measure of silk.
The Queen’s silence heightened the tension of the banquet.
Jin stood frozen on the mat, unable to exit the stage as the Queen looked down at her. The King was dismayed by the Queen’s strange reaction. Only the prince, as if bored, turned toward the pond where the rain fell. Nobody was watching Yeon, but he had also set his flute on his knee and fixed his gaze on the dancer’s back.
Thinking that punishing the dancer for his delayed applause was excessive, Victor began to stand up to placate the Queen, but Guérin pulled him back down whispering, “You will only make it worse.”
Victor sat, his head turned to the dancer. She seemed lost in thought. Victor hadn’t even been aware that the dance had finished. He hadn’t noticed the applause of the other diplomats. Victor had forgotten he was at a banquet with other emissaries and officials and had even forgotten the King himself. He hadn’t noticed the music had stopped; his mind had been full of the movement of the dancer.
—Did I not ask you what you plan to do for the legate?
The Queen’s voice was harsh.
Jin, who wordlessly kept her back bent toward the Queen, now opened her mouth to speak.
—If it pleases Your Majesty, I will grant any wish the French legate desires.
A murmur arose from among the diplomats.
The Queen turned to the King.
—Your Majesty. Did you just hear what Lady Attendant Suh proposed?
The King smiled, uncertain.
—Would you permit Lady Attendant Suh to grant a wish of the French legate’s?
—We trust the Queen in this matter.
Only the King had realized it. That the reason for the Queen’s acting this way was because she saw him spellbound by Jin’s dance.
—Do I have your word?
—Of course.
A strange smile appeared on the Queen’s lips.
—Your Excellency!
At her call, the eyes of everyone at the banquet converged on Victor. It was so quiet that the sound of the rain falling on the pond could be heard.
—Lady Attendant Suh is the finest dancer in Korea. She says she is willing to grant you a single wish in repentance for her failure to satisfy Your Excellency with her dance. What say you?
Victor was mortified.
—What say you? The King himself permits it.
—It is so sudden. I am not sure of what to say.
—Is that a refusal?
Jin, whose head was bowed before the Queen, was glancing sideways in Victor’s direction. Their stares collided in the air. These were not the friendly dark eyes that had answered his greeting with a bonjour on the Silk Stream bridge. They were filled with suspicion and resentment toward him. It was Victor’s belief that in the event of an unexpected situation, honesty was the wisest form of diplomacy. He could see no other way out of this moment other than to show his true feelings.
—Your Majesty, I must say that it is an honor to make a request to the court dancer. I am only sorry that I am unprepared for such a joyous opportunity. If it can be arranged, could I have Lady Attendant Suh visit our legation office?
—The French legation office?
—Yes, Your Majesty.
—What for?
—I wish to show her our offices in return for her showing us her beautiful dance. If it can be permitted, I would like to photograph her as well. I am also unfamiliar with the capital, and it would be good if we could see the city together.
The Queen seemed to consider his words. Victor said what he said only because the situation forced him to, but a hope sprung within him that his wish would be granted. If the dancer came to the legation office, he could be with her at a closer distance. They could have a quiet moment together.
—Your words imply that you enjoyed Lady Attendant Suh’s dance.
—Of course, Your Majesty.
—Then why did you not clap?
—I have never seen such a beautiful dance before. I was so taken by its beauty that I had quite forgot to applaud.
There was another murmur at his words, which subsided. The Queen turned to the King again.
—What are we to do, Your Majesty?
The King slowly turned his head to the dancer. If it pleases Your Majesty, she had prefaced her proposal with, but the granting of a wish to this foreign legate would inevitably compromise her standing as a court lady. It was impossible for a court lady of the palace not to know this. Only then did the King recognize her as the attendant who was always by the side of the Queen, ever since that night when the Queen’s Chambers burned down.
He broke his gaze from the dancer and turned to the Queen. It was obvious to everyone that Victor had not applauded because he was too overwhelmed by the beauty of the dance. The King knew it hadn’t escaped the Queen’s notice as well. Had she not always been so observant, so clever in her reasoning? The Queen was only trying to read what he was thinking through this ruse.
—We leave it to the judgment of the Queen.
—It is not so simple, Your Majesty. You must consider it carefully.
—A promise is already made to the legate.
—But it is Your Majesty’s decision. For who shall go against the decree of the King?
The Queen was pushing for the King to declare his permission in his own words. The King gave a hollow laugh.
—Fine, then. Lady Attendant Suh is to grant the French legate his wish.
Relieved laughter and applause arose from the gathered diplomats. A smile, so faint it was both there and not there, appeared on the Queen’s lips. Jin sighed deeply as she stood still on the mat. The woman Suh had counseled her to always consider the Queen’s position, how Her Majesty’s life was under constant threat. Only then would Jin be able to understand the Queen’s actions. Her eyes, unlike when she had looked at Victor sideways, were now completely emotionless. There was not a trace of resentment or censure. Only Yeon, sitting behind Jin with his daegeum perched on his knee, stared at the French legate with suspicion.
As Jin retreated from the stage with her hands gathered before her, and the mat was rolled away, the old festive mood returned to the pavilion.
3
Your Name
Your Excellency,
Since 1885, Korea and China have been connected through the telegraph between Seoul and Peking. The Chinese government, responsible for its installation, has held a monopoly for twenty years. They suspend or deny service at a whim. Meanwhile, the Japanese proposed laying a cable between Nagasaki and Busan and connecting it to Seoul at their own expense. We understand what Japan would gain from a direct line with Korea. As of this writing, Japan’s telegrams can only be sent by permission of the Chinese government, and even then, the messages are rerouted through Tientsin and Shanghai at considerable expense.
Wishing to avoid further interference from foreign powers, Korea refused Japan’s offer. Knowing that ridding their communications of Chinese supervision and extending their network to Russia’s on its northern border through a new line would be in its best national interests, the Korean government decided to establish their own telegraph company and lay the lines themselves.
The extremely difficult task of laying the lines in the mountainous regions was given to Mr. Halifax, the sole European in the venture, and a Korean team that managed to finish this endeavor in three months. Four telegraph offices were opened, and their fares set as follows.
Seoul to Gyeongju . . . 16 jeon.
Seoul to Jeonju . . . 18 jeon.
Seoul to Daegu . . . 20 jeon.
Seoul to Busan . . . 22 jeon.
The equipment is mostly handled by Koreans. The employees were trained in the necessary skills and in English for a year, now allowing them to undertake their duties. I believe that the Koreans will be able to run their own telegraph offices without the help of foreigners, just as the Chinese have.
July 27, 1888
Victor Collin de Plancy
While the
grass grows, the steed starves.
The proverb he once read in Shakespeare came upon him with new meaning as Victor awaited his reunion with the court dancer. The promise made in late June came to fruition one summer morning in late July.
The cicadas on the phoenix tree filled the legation garden with noise. Victor woke earlier than he ever had since coming to Korea. Not that it was much of a waking up, as he had hardly slept the night before. As soon as he opened his eyes, he listened for the sound of rain outside his bedroom window.
Korea had a long monsoon season. The rains weren’t rough, but the sun hid behind clouds. The fortress of the capital was muddy and damp, the air perpetually humid. The topsoil of the vegetable patch in front of the legation had washed away. The gardeners would have to concentrate their efforts on restoring the lost footpaths for the time being. The monsoon ended two days ago, but Victor couldn’t help feeling anxious that it would rain again.
Instead of rain, all he heard was the loud singing of the cicadas. He stretched.
Cicadas heralded the end of the monsoon. Bishop Blanc had told him that the sun would shine all day if one heard cicada song at dawn. Victor did not want to greet his visitor in the rain.
Blanc had lived for so long in Korea that he knew the country’s laws, traditions, weather, and the way its people lived almost as well as any Korean. Blanc took over as the Seventh Bishop of Korea when Ridel, the Sixth, passed away. Since Blanc became bishop, there was more tolerance toward the Catholic faith, and its persecuted believers, once driven underground, were more content than they had been in a long time.
Blanc, once he became the bishop, established the orphanage he had planned since he first arrived in Korea. He bought a house in the Gondangol neighborhood and modified it with the help of the woman Suh, a year before Korea and France signed their first trade treaty. At his orphanage, the first ever in Korea, he brought in children who had nowhere else to go. Korean Catholics helped, but most of the caretaking was done by Suh and Yeon. Suh, who had no children of her own, put all her care into the orphans, making them clothes, teaching them to write, and preparing their meals. Yeon helped her. Suh and Yeon were as hurt by Yuan Shikai’s rumors as Blanc was. When it became clear they were in danger, Blanc had appealed to the newly appointed French legate for help. Thanks to Victor’s quick and firm response, Blanc’s honor was safeguarded, and Blanc befriended Victor, with whom he often discussed the goings-on in Korea.
The Court Dancer Page 10