Pine tree prophecy and the burning of Deoksu Palace

An old postcard of Deoksu Palace from the early 20th century Robert Neff Collection

• Published Jan 31, 2021 10:55 AM KST
• Updated Jan 31, 2021 5:25 PM KST

By Robert Neff

On a cold morning in early January 1904 ― just as the sun began to rise ― a small crowd had gathered in a market in Seoul, their attention fixed not upon the wares that were being offered that day, but upon a poster that had been nailed up. A policeman, probably drawn by the crowd's animated whispering, approached and the crowd yielded diffidently as he made a path to the displayed poster. It took him but a few minutes to read the proclamation before he ripped it down, tucked it into his flowing tunic and returned to police headquarters.

At this time, the situation in Korea was dire. Every street corner in Seoul was a den for rumors and opinions of the impending Russo-Japanese War. Discontent over the food and fuel shortages as well as the extreme cold weather further antagonized the public. A small spark of unrest could spread quickly throughout the country, so it was imperative to stamp out any unrest as soon as possible.

The poster the policeman had seized was actually a prophecy of an evil that the author claimed would befall the emperor and the palace. According to it, “the pine forest will suffer a calamity.” Many speculated the pine forest was actually a reference to the palace, which was constructed from thousands of trees. The authorities sought out the author of the prophecy, but ― fortunately for the prophet ― they were unsuccessful. Had they discovered his identity, he would likely have been executed for inciting public disorder.

Within weeks, the Russo-Japanese War began, and Korea found itself the unwilling host to the armies of these military giants. Apparently the prophecy was forgotten until just before midnight on April 14.

It was a windy night and all was silent in the capital, when the smell of smoke and the brilliant glow of flames were discovered coming from Deoksu Palace. The Japanese fire-bells' loud clanging shattered the silence and summoned both Chinese and Japanese firemen to the palace gates. The gates were locked, and though the firemen pounded upon them and yelled for them to be opened, the gates remained locked from within. Not a sound, other than the roar of the fire and the sounds of buildings collapsing, could be heard from within the walls.

The British Legation's marine guards were aroused by all of the commotion, so grabbed fire extinguishers and tried to enter the palace complex through the rear gates, but like the Chinese and Japanese firemen, they found them locked. The marines then made their way to the Imperial Maritime Customs secretary's house and dragged the hand-pump fire engine that was stored there to the front of the Imperial Palace to await entry. Crowds of Korean citizens and foreigners had gathered in the streets, but all were powerless to assist and merely gawked at the inferno.

Flames flared up over the walls, driven by a brisk wind, and several of the foreigners who resided in the area climbed on the roofs of their homes, soaking them with water in an attempt to keep the fire from spreading into the city proper. To a foreigner, it might at first have seemed strange that the gates were still locked and that the hundreds of people who lived within the palace and tended to the emperor were not rushing out of the gates to save themselves.

Historically, fire, or the threat of fire, had been used as a means of breaching the defenses of the palace during confusion and seizing of power. For this reason, during times of distress, the gates to the palace were immediately locked and a calm demeanor was maintained while the emperor was notified and orders received as to what measures to take.

Although the palace looked relatively quiet from the outside, inside it was bustling with activity as efforts were made to protect the royal family and keep safe as much of the palace and its treasures as possible. The royal family was moved several times in an attempt to keep them safe and eventually found refuge in the library near the American Legation, just like one interpretation of the prophecy had foretold. The American and French ministers stayed with the Korean emperor as he watched the fire destroy his palace.

It is interesting to note that the American Legation's guards were some of the first outsiders to enter the palace that night. They had been summoned by the Korean soldiers within who warned them that the armory, located within the palace, near the wall abutting the American Legation, was in danger of catching fire, and the explosion would do a great deal of damage to the surrounding area. The Americans and the Koreans managed to get the ammunition out of the palace before it could explode.

At the nearby Methodist compound, efforts were made to protect the compound's buildings and the patients in the nearby hospital. One missionary wrote: “When the high Audience Hall fell with a crash, & sparks & cinders went up in a cloud, & the whole atmosphere seemed one storm of fire.”

Eventually the fire was put out with the combined efforts of Koreans, Chinese, Japanese, Americans and British, with their fire engine. The fire destroyed a large part of the palace including valuable documents and books, large amounts of Japanese paper currency and other valuables. Even though the damage was great, there was only one fatality, a young Korean boy who was killed by the flames.

In his diary, Yun Chi-ho, the Korean statesman and Enlightenment Movement activist, wrote:

“Strong and steady east wind, the crowded condition of the boxlike buildings in the Palace and the absence of proper means of arresting, this flame all combined to burn down everything within the walls. Ten years of extortion wasted on senseless and useless buildings ― its foundation laid on tears and its hideous colors painted in blood ― all reduced to ashes in 3 hours… One may say so if this was the end of corruption and despotism.”

An investigation was conducted and it was declared that the fire had started as a result of an errant burning ember which had set fire to the wood shavings left by workmen doing repairs on some of the buildings. The men were immediately arrested, sent to jail and later banished for several years.

Although the fire was proven to be the result of an accident, there were probably more than a few people who remembered the poster and its prophecy ― especially in the years that followed, in which Korea first became a Japanese protectorate and then a part of the Japanese empire. A disaster had truly fallen upon the pine forest and the Korean people.

Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books including, Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.