The title of majesty in Chō-sen is Hap-mun. In full robes of state the sovereign wears a silken garment, the gift of his suzerain, the Emperor of China. It is embroidered with dragons, the emblems of regal power. His throne has riong or dragons sculptured around it. The steps leading to it are called “the staircase of jade.” The cord which is used to tie criminals has a dragon’s head at the ends, to signify that the officers act in obedience to the royal command. Chief of the regalia of Corean sovereignty is the Great Seal, the possession of which makes the holder the actual sovereign of Chō-sen. This seal, of which we shall hear again, seems to have been captured by the French in 1866. In time of war or public danger, the royal library, archives and regalia are sent to Kang-wa Island for safety. Ridel wrote in 1866:

“In another case, they found a marble tortoise, sculptured in perfect art, upon the pedestal of which was the great seal of state. This royal cartouche was to the simple Corean folk neither visible nor approachable, the possession of which has sufficed many times to transfer the royal authority and to terminate revolutions. It was the regalia of Corean sovereignty. The one which he saw was new and appeared never to have been used.”

The sovereign, in speaking of himself, uses the term “Hap-mun,” which is the equivalent of the imperial “We” of Asiatic state documents. The word is somewhat similar to that employed by, or for, other rulers—Pharaoh, Sublime Porte, Mikado, all of which mean the Grand, Chief, or First, Gate of all the gates in the country. The first character in Hap-mun is, however, different from that in Mikado, or Honorable Gate, but the hap is honorific. No other person in the land, official or private, is allowed to use this compound word in speech or writing as applying to anyone except the king. Even in transcribing the term hap, a stroke must be omitted out of respect to the august personage to whom [219]alone it is applied. At his death, three cups of rice are set out in the households in memoriam. This ceremony must not be imitated for any other person. So also, if the character with which the name of the ruling emperor of China is written be found in that of a public person, a gateway, a palace or edifice in Seoul, the graphic sign must be temporarily changed, though the pronunciation remains the same. This same system of graduated honors, of which, in Corea, the king is the culmination, slopes down to the common people, and is duly protected by law.

The sovereign’s person is hedged round with a divinity that has an antipathy to iron. This metal must never touch his august body, and rather than have an abscess lanced, the king Cheng-jong, in 1800, died from the effects of the disease. No ordinary mortal must touch him, and if by accident this is done, the individual must ever afterward wear a red silk cord. Notwithstanding such regulated veneration for the Hap-mun’s person, the royal harem numbers several hundred inmates, duly presided over by eunuchs. None but the king can drink out of a cup made of gold, and a heavy penalty is visited upon all who presume to do so. When outside the palace, the three signs of the sovereign’s power of life and death over his subjects, are the axe, sabre, and trident. The huge violet fan and red umbrella are likewise borne before him. The Chinese envoy is always escorted by soldiers bearing the three emblems, and by a band of musicians. When the Hap-mun, or king, is in his minority, the queen, who is regent, sits behind a curtain in the council of ministers, and takes part in the discussions. When she is pregnant, the slaughter of beeves is prohibited during the space of three months. This is done in order “to honor heaven by abstinence,” and may also be ordered to procure rain. Once every year, the queen entertains at her palace some worthy woman in humble life, who has reached the advanced age of eighty years. The king likewise shows favor to old men in the lower walks of life. Whenever an auspicious event happens, or good fortune befalls the kingdom, all the officials over seventy, and the common people over eighty years of age, are feasted at the expense of the government. When the first male child is born to the king, criminals are pardoned, and general festivity is observed. The birthdays of the royal pair are celebrated every year. The royal princes are supposed to have nothing whatever to do with politics, and any activity in matters of government on their part is jealously resented by the nobles, who form the political parties. [220]

The Royal Castle contains over three acres (15,202 square yards), surrounded by a wall twenty feet high, and formerly by a moat, now filled up, measuring fifty feet wide or less. It is crossed by stone bridges in several places. This castled palace is called the “Place of Government,” and is divided into two parts called the “East and West” palace. The East, or Lower Palace, is the residence of the king and is so called because situated on level land. The Western palace is used for the reception of the Chinese ambassadors. The gates of the outer city proper, and inner city, or palace, are named in high-sounding phrase, such as “Beneficent Reception,” “Exalted Politeness,” “Perfect Change,” “Entrance of Virtue,” and the throne-room is styled “The Hall of the Throne of the Humane Government.” The Chinese ambassador of 1866 spent the night in that part of the royal residence called “The Palace Reserved for the South,”—“the south” here evidently referring to the imperial favor, or the good graces, of the emperor.

A marked difference concerning “the freedom of the city” is noticed in the relative treatment of the two embassies. While the entire body of Coreans, dignitaries, servants, merchants, and cart-men enter Peking, and all circulate freely in the streets among the people, the Chinese envoy to Seoul, must leave his suite at the frontier, and proceed to the capital with but a few servants, and while there dwell in seclusion. After the long and rough journey through Shin-king and Corea, the Chinese envoy in 1866 stayed less than three days in Seoul, and most of the time in-doors. The Japanese who, in 1646, were feasted in some part of the Eastern palace, describe it as being handsomely furnished, with the walls gilded and painted with landscapes, beasts, birds, and flowers, with artistic effects in gold-dust and leaf. The royal family live each in separate buildings, those above the ninth degree of relationship reside inside the enclosure, all others live beyond the wall in the city. When the wife of the king has a child, she dwells apart in a separate building. The queen is selected from among the old and most loyal families of the nobility. The palace pages, who attend the king day and night, number thirty. There are also three hundred court ladies, and eunuchs are among the regularly-appointed officers of the court. The royal archives and library form an interesting portion of the royal residence. Part of this library, when removed to Kang-wa in 1866, was captured by the French. Bishop Ridel wrote of it, “The library is very rich, consisting of two or three thousand books printed in Chinese [221]with numerous illustrations upon beautiful paper, all well labeled, for the most part in many volumes hooped together with copper bands, the covers being of green or crimson silk. I notice among other things the ancient history of Corea in sixty volumes. What was most curious of all was a book formed of tablets of marble, with characters in gold encrusted in the marble, folding upon one another like the leaves of a screen, upon hinges of gilded copper, and each tablet protected by a cushion of scarlet silk, the whole placed in a handsome casket made of copper, which was in its turn enclosed in a box of wood painted red, with chased ornaments in gilt copper. These square tablets formed a volume of a dozen pages. They contain, as some say, the moral laws of the country, but according to others, whose opinion is more probable, the honors accorded the kings of Corea by the Emperor of China. The Coreans set great store by it.”

A custom, similar to the old “curfew” of England prevails in the capital. The great city bell is struck at sunset, after which male citizens are not allowed to go out of their houses even to visit their neighbors. If such nocturnal prowlers are caught, they run the risk of receiving the bastinado on their legs. At eight o’clock another three strokes are given on the bell. At the hours of midnight, and at two and four A.M. the drum is struck, and the brass cymbals sounded. At these signals the watchmen or guards of the palace are relieved. The night-watch consists of ten reliefs of eighteen each. Twenty stand guard at midnight, thirty at two A.M., twenty at four A.M., and ten at six A.M. There are also extra reliefs with their officers ready. The sentinels change after giving the pass-word. The military garrison of the city is divided into five portions, or four in addition to the household or palace troops. This is the modern form of the old division of Kokorai, into five tribes or clans.

There are several noted holidays, on which the curfew law is suspended, and the people are allowed to be out freely at night. These are the first and the last day of the year, the fourteenth and fifteenth day of the first month, and the fifteenth of August.

Even under a despotism there are means by which the people win and enjoy a certain measure of liberty. The monarch hears the complaints of his subjects. Close communication between the palace and populace is kept up by means of the pages employed at the court, or through officers, who are sent out as the king’s spies all over the country. An E-sa, or commissioner, who is to [222]be sent to a distant province to ascertain the popular feeling, or to report the conduct of certain officers, is also called “The Messenger on the Dark Path.” He receives sealed orders from the king, which he must not open till beyond the city walls. Then, without even going to his own house, he must set out for his destination, the government providing his expenses. He bears the seal of his commission, a silver plate having the figure of a horse engraved on it. In some cases he has the power of life and death in his hands. Yet, even the Messenger of the Dark Path is not free from espionage, for after him forthwith follows his “double”—the yashi or Night Messenger, who reports on the conduct of the royal inspector and also on the affairs of each province through which he passes. The whereabouts of these emissaries are rarely discoverable by the people, as they travel in strict disguise, and unknown. This system corresponds almost exactly to that of the ométsuké (eye-appliers), for many centuries in use in Japan, but abolished by the mikado’s government at the revolution of 1868. It was by means of these E-sa or spies that many of the Corean Christians of rank were marked for destruction. The system, though abominable in free countries, is yet an excellent medium between the throne and the subject, and serves as a wholesome check on official rapine and cruelty.

The king rarely leaves the palace to go abroad in the city or country. When he does, it is a great occasion which is previously announced to the public. The roads are swept clean and guarded to prevent traffic or passage while the royal cortége is moving. All doors must be shut and the owner of each house is obliged to kneel before his threshold with a broom and dust-pan in his hand as emblems of obeisance. All windows, especially the upper ones, must be sealed with slips of paper, lest some one should look down upon his majesty. Those who think they have received unjust punishment enjoy the right of appeal to the sovereign. They stand by the roadside tapping a small flat drum of hide stretched on a hoop like a battledore. The king as he passes hears the prayer or receives the written petition held in a split bamboo. Often he investigates the grievance. If the complaint is groundless the petitioner is apt to lose his head. The procession for pleasure or a journey, as it leaves the palace, is one of the grandest spectacles the natives ever witness. His body-guard and train amount to many thousand persons. There are two sedan chairs made exactly alike, and in which of them the king is riding [223]no one knows except the highest ministers. They must never be turned round, but have a door to open at both ends. The music used on such occasions is—to a Corean ear—of a quiet kind, and orders are given along the line by signals made with pennons. In case of sudden emergencies, when it is necessary to convey an order from the rear to the front or far forward of the line, the message is sent by means of an arrow, which, with the writing attached, is shot from one end of the line to the other.

Five caparisoned horses with embroidered saddles precede the royal sedan. The great dragon-flag, which is about fourteen feet square, mounted in a socket and strapped on the back of a strong fresh horse—with four guy ropes held by footmen, like banner-string boys in a parade—forms the most conspicuous object in the procession. Succession to the throne is at the pleasure of the sovereign, who may nominate his legitimate son, or any one of his natural male offspring, or his cousin, or uncle, as he pleases. A son of the queen takes precedence over other sons, but the male child of a concubine becomes king when the queen is childless, which, in Corean eyes, is virtually the case when she has daughters only. Since the founding of the present dynasty in 1392, there have been twenty-nine successors to the founder, among whom we find nephews, cousins, or younger sons, in several instances. Four were kun, princes, or king’s son only, and not successors in the royal line. They are not styled wang, or kings, but only kun, or princes, in the official light. One of these four kun, degraded from the throne, was banished after eleven years, and another was served in like manner after fourteen years’ reign. The heir to the throne holds the rank of wang (Japanese Ō), king, while the younger sons are kun, princes. From 1392 to 1882, the average reign of the twenty sovereigns of Corea who received investiture is very nearly sixteen and a half years. [224]