—You have been well?
—I have, Your Majesty.
Even as he answered thus, Victor was thinking of the hectic first days of his appointment caused by persistent rumors among the populace, that foreigners were kidnapping and selling Korean children. There were even rumors of cannibalism. Words can spread as if they had sprouted wings. The rumors put the servants of foreigners in a difficult position, as they were suspected of colluding with the supposed kidnappers. Then one day a servant was killed in the street, and before anything could be done about it, more than ten others were murdered in two days. The local servants at foreign residences, fearing for their lives, quit their employs in droves.
In that regal pavilion, Victor suddenly remembered a phrase he had read in China, that a king was a boat and his people the water, and the water may make the boat float, but it can also overturn it.
The people made the most nervous by these rumors were the Japanese merchants who lived in Korea. Because they spoke some Korean, they were suspected of being spies and ringleaders of the kidnapping operation. A rumor spread that an enraged mob was about to attack the Japanese legation. The Japanese, already having experienced two such attacks in the past, including the burning down of its legation building, braced itself for another bout. But the attack never came. Instead, the building where the American and British legations were located, as well as the customs and telephone offices, faced daily skirmishes with the locals. Each legation held emergency meetings and requested security from the Korean government. Korea’s Ministry of Justice and the Police Chief posted decrees in the towns. But the decrees only encouraged the rumors that the children of Korea were being kidnapped by foreigners.
Victor had a feeling that the Chinese were responsible for the rumors.
Upon his arrival in Korea, Victor had hired Kim Holim as his interpreter, a man who spoke fluent Chinese and was recommended to him by the Chinese legate Yuan Shikai. Kim Holim would often visit the Chinese legation, even after becoming an interpreter for the French. It eventually came to Victor’s attention that the man who had been spreading the rumors—that Bishop Blanc’s orphanage, the first of its kind to be established in Korea, was incarcerating children for the purpose of harvesting their blood—was none other than Kim Holim. But Kim had already fled in fear that Victor would hand him over to the police. And the only place Kim would have heard of such rumors was at the Chinese legation, the fact that similar rumors were spreading in Tientsin and Peking being evidence of a sort.
Not to mention how the Chinese legate began to withdraw from participating in diplomatic meetings, citing sickness, since the day the rumors started spreading. The Chinese legation was the only foreign mission to not participate in the joint efforts against the rumors. But why would they do such a thing? It was likely they were forcing Korea to admit it was unable to control its own populace, giving the Qing the impetus to maintain their troops in the country. A ruse to keep in check Japan’s growing influence on the peninsula. It chilled Victor to think how the conflict between Japan and China over Korea seemed irreconcilable. He would always have to contend with it as long as he was in Korea. And if his hunch was right, the Chinese had just succeeded in involving other countries in their conspiracy.
—And has your military regiment gone back?
The Queen’s calm voice still conveyed a determination not to beat about the bush like the King. Victor glanced at the light rain falling on the pond. The Queen’s cold voice seemed to contain the accusation, And wasn’t calling your military into Seoul’s fortresses the first thing you did when you were appointed here?
The foreign diplomats, fearing an uprising, had requested the American, British, and French military docked at Jaemulpo Harbor to send regiments of twenty each to the capital. They had judged the local police to be insufficient in their ability to defuse an uprising. This was an unprecedented and coordinated move on the diplomats’ part. The joint regiment entered Seoul after just a day’s march.
Only then were the officials taken aback and started giving assurances that they would post the notices that the diplomats had drafted themselves. The officials guaranteed the safety of the foreign legations and requested they send away their military. In the end, the King stepped in. He promised to capture and prosecute those who attacked foreigners or the buildings they resided in and to reward those who helped arrest the attackers. He issued a decree to track down the perpetrators of the rumors until they were found.
Only then did the mob calm down.
The more one speaks, the more one invites misunderstandings. Especially when one speaks out of turn.
—I’m afraid we had no choice but to bring in the regiment.
—Did I say otherwise? I was only asking if they had gone back, now that peace has returned.
The Queen surely knew the soldiers had gone back. In lieu of replying, Victor mopped the sweat from his brow and bowed from the hip. Tonight was a banquet night, and he was about to present a gift of Sèvres porcelain to the King. He told himself it was not the time or place for such sensitive matters.
—It was worrying. But we are glad it is done with.
The King’s tone remained gentle.
—I apologize for the concern this may have caused you.
—The rumors are at fault.
Victor had requested the official Cho Byeongsik to find Kim Holim, the source of the terrible rumors plaguing Bishop Blanc. Victor was determined to verify where he was getting them from. Cho Byeongsik conveyed Victor’s request to the King, who ordered a search. According to the decree, Kim Holim was to be beheaded the moment he was determined to be the source of the rumors. Thinking a beheading was too much, Victor asked Official Cho to consider exile as an alternative punishment. Not until much later did Victor learn that Kim Holim, apprehended at a Buddhist temple, was executed in a way unique to Korea. He was tied up and laid on the ground, and sheets of wet paper laid upon his face. The wet paper had blocked his nose and mouth, asphyxiating him to death. Official Cho had not informed Victor of his arrest or execution, and it was over by the time Victor learned of it. Victor was sure, then, that it was the Chinese legation that was responsible for the rumors. The truths that Kim Holim would have confessed to during his interrogation would have put the Qing in danger, and determining that the fates of countless Korean officials would also be compromised, they had, Victor deduced, shut him up for good.
As if to shed himself of a nightmare, Victor spoke to the King in a bright voice.
—Your majesty, the Sèvres porcelain that the French government sends upon my appointment arrived only yesterday.
—The Queen tells me that France is unparalleled in its production of artisanal works.
The King smiled at the Queen. It was part of his considerate nature to try to smooth the moment of tension between the Queen and Victor.
—I am grateful that you think so. But today, I am astounded by this pavilion. To have such a beautiful building . . . It is Korea that is truly a nation of artisans.
Victor bowed again and glanced at the Queen, who continued to look down at him. She had reached out to hold hands with the Crown Prince sitting next to her.
—The King appreciates good porcelain. I am curious as to what French porcelain looks like.
The Queen’s words were now perfectly polite, belying her previous harshness. There was even a serene smile on her lips. Victor placed the silk-wrapped porcelain on the table before the King.
—Do unwrap it.
Victor obliged, untying the knot of red silk. He had heard that in Korea, only the King could use red, and so he had obtained red silk with some difficulty. The silk unraveled, revealing a jar drawn with a design of a French castle, plates of mythical figures, and a low teapot with ear-like handles on each side.
Beautiful objects are accompanied by moments of silence.
The King leaned toward the Sèvres porcelain. No one spoke a word. On the waters by the pavilion, the little rings created by the falling r
ain made ripples far and wide.
—We have known France puts much effort into creating its artworks, but these are even beyond our expectations.
As if eliciting her agreement, the King turned and smiled at the Queen.
—I have heard that even China imports porcelain now.
—Is that so? The Chinese?
—They use Sèvres porcelain in their imperial court.
—The imperial court?
—Yes. It made me wonder why the Chinese court would import French porcelain, but it must be because it is this lovely.
Victor was reassured by the Queen’s words. He almost smiled as he realized that he inadvertently cared more about her reaction than the King’s.
—Sèvres is the name of a place in France?
—It is, Your Majesty. Their factories were originally in Vincennes, but Madame Pompadour, who was the favorite of King Louis XV, loved their work so much she had them moved near her home in Sèvres. The city attracts not only potters but artists. Sèvres discards any porcelain that has even the slightest flaw. To prevent flawed works from being distributed, they forbid glaze from being applied on disapproved pieces. Therefore, to determine authenticity, one must look for the enamel finish and whether they have their characteristic ears.
—Fascinating. Truly admirable. We thank you for bringing such precious gifts. Please convey our gratitude to the French president.
—I shall, Your Majesty.
The porcelain was wrapped again in the red silk and taken away. The Queen, who had maintained a polite expression throughout the porcelain’s presentation, returned to her grim stance.
—Having heard of Your Excellency’s good taste, I am sure you will find Korean celadon of interest. I hope you take the opportunity to examine our white celadon in particular. You will find it quite satisfactory.
—I shall.
Victor gave another deferential bow to the Queen. A gesture according to protocol, to the Queen who even in admiring the Sèvres porcelain did not forget to introduce the excellence of Korea’s celadon.
The legates began arriving, heralding the beginning of the banquet.
The American legate Hugh Dinsmore was the first to arrive, followed by Russia’s Karl Weber. Britain’s Colin Ford and Japan’s legate Masuki Kondo arrived next. They broke the ice by talking about the rain that had been falling since the morning. China’s Yuan Shikai was the last to come, and the first thing he did was to give out a boisterous laugh. His formidable bulk was matched by an attitude of sheer confidence.
The legates, as they stepped up to the pavilion, paid their respects to the King first and foremost. The King asked after the health of the heads of state in the other countries. Victor, standing at a remove, watched as the legates answered the King in cheerful voices, smiling perhaps because it was a banquet evening. As Ford, another recent appointee, tried to bow to the King in the Korean style of putting knees and hands to the ground, the King stopped him.
—We regret how we were not able to see the legate Watters before he left Korea. We have heard he came to court, only to be turned away.
Ford, who had never had an audience with the King until this moment, bowed deeply at the King’s careful words.
—Try to forget the unfortunate events of the recent past and enjoy yourselves tonight.
As soon as the King’s words were spoken, the banquet shifted into a more festive mood. Frogs sitting on the vegetation by the pond plopped back into the water as the banquet attendees began to move. The diplomats, all in their dress uniforms, sat in chairs toward the middle of the pavilion, their interpreters stationed between them. Some stood, leaning against the pavilion’s balustrade. The sound of Korean and other languages intermingled like music. Junior court ladies from the Refreshment Chamber moved busily among the diplomats with trays of hors d’oeuvres and drink. A few diplomats were already imbibing wine.
Two dancers carrying a small octagonal table with a vase full of peonies appeared, followed by musicians. The appearance of the dancers, who placed the table with the peonies in the middle of the floor, hushed the conversing diplomats. The center of the pavilion became a stage. The first performance of the palace dancers was the Dance of the Beauties Picking Peonies. The musicians settled in a semicircle behind the table with the peonies.
Victor sat with Guérin near where the King was and drank British tea out of his teacup as he looked toward the pond where the rain fell. The lotus flowers and buds trembled, drenched in the rainwater. He turned his gaze to the stone beasts that supported the railings of the balustrade. The pavilion was grand from a distance but also beautifully detailed up close. Just when he thought of taking a photograph, he heard the decisive clack of the bak, a bamboo percussion instrument that heralded musical transitions. Eight dancers wearing green and yellow and indigo appeared at both right and left of the stage. The flower crowns on their heads jiggled whenever they advanced or retreated. At the sound of the bak, the dancers divided into two and made a final turn around the stage. With another clack, they gathered their hands together and stood toward the northern side.
The dancers recited the following poem.
Ten thousand blossoms bloom and turn the palace red.
The crowds of red and yellow flowers strain to be seen.
A new jade flute sings the music of peace.
Butterflies flutter above the fragrant petals.
The musicians then played the “Song of Everlasting Spring and Youth.” It had a solemn and supplicating sound. Whenever the dancers circled the peonies, their crowns caught the light around them, and the green of their dancing slippers flashed underneath their skirts.
—Is it true that the crimson of their robes symbolizes the south and summer?
Guérin was unable to answer Victor’s question, and said instead, “Doesn’t the crimson color symbolize the north?”
—I thought the north was winter and the color black.
Guérin cocked his head and smiled, saying, “Perhaps it is best to appreciate the dance as is.” He probably meant that it was a banquet, and they were there to enjoy.
Having learned that they would have the opportunity to see dances in Korea’s palaces, Victor had tried to learn about them and their meanings. It was his nature to prepare beforehand. He asked Guérin, who knew less of palace dances than he did, and his interpreter. He also looked through books, but there was too much to know about the colors of the clothes, the headpieces, and the sashes around the dancers’ waists. Victor turned toward the peonies in the middle and concentrated on the movement of the dancers. Even in the steps where they guilelessly caressed the flowers, a practiced sense of order was paramount. The dancers moved with a restraint that betrayed not a hint of private emotion. There were eight dancers picking flowers off the table, but to Victor, they moved as one. The dancers cast off their sleeve extensions and twirled until the last clack of the bak sounded, upon which they brought their hands and feet together. The music ceased.
While the Korean officials and lady attendants remained silent, the diplomats burst into applause.
—Is it the custom to clap after a dance?
The Queen asked this question with a smile, observing the surprise of the Joseon officials. The Queen often held teas and banquets with the diplomats’ wives, and so it was impossible that she did not already know the answer.
—It is a sign of appreciation for the dancers’ efforts.
This was said by the American legate Dinsmore.
—And how is it done in Russia?
Weber, caught off guard, put down his teacup with a clang. He quickly swallowed the biscuit in his mouth.
—If the performance is particularly moving, we even stand to clap.
The Queen, still holding on to the hand of the Crown Prince, smiled.
—I see. Then we shall clap as well. Especially since the next dance is to be performed by the finest dancer in all of Korea.
The Queen’s words raised many eyebrows.
The
peony table was removed from the stage, and a wide straw mat with a colorful pattern was spread in its place. At the sound of the bak, a dancer with her hands held in front of her took tiny steps onto the stage, as if she were carefully balancing herself on wooden sandals. The crown on her head sparkled, and her yellow silk robes glowed atop the straw mat. The dancer slowed to a halt and stood alone onstage. Once the bak ceased, a lovely voice flowed from her lips.
As I walk beneath the soft and pretty moon,
my silk sleeves flutter in the wind.
Enchanted by my beauty before the flowers,
my lover gives his heart for me to cherish.
The dancer finished her recitation of the lyrics, threw her hands behind her, and turned her head. Victor, who had been taking a sip of wine, bolted upright. The dancer’s eyes . . . Victor froze, waiting to see those eyes again. He scrutinized the dancer as she turned and turned on the mat, her arms spread wide like that of a bird spreading its wings to the sky.
It’s her!
Victor gave out a low gasp. The woman he had met on the Silk Stream bridge the day of his first audience with the King. The court lady he had spontaneously greeted with a bonjour and who had effortlessly answered bonjour back!
She was a court dancer.
Victor felt the breath leave his body. He was rising from his seat without knowing it.
His gaze was arrested by her as she moved as lightly as if floating in the wind. Guérin and the other diplomats shot glances at Victor, who was by now half out of his chair. The Queen also noticed him. Guérin tugged at his sleeve, but he couldn’t make Victor sit down, too absorbed was he in the dance.
Guérin tugged at Victor’s arm harder and whispered in his ear.
—The Queen is watching you.
Only then did Victor regain his senses and sit down.