Gojong’s gilded prisons: Russian Legation and Deoksu Palace

The Russian Legation in Seoul circa 1900 / Robert Neff Collection

On the cold, pale morning of Feb. 10, 1896, Seoul was filled with excitement. A large procession of more than 100 Russian soldiers — armed, fully provisioned and accompanied by 22 ponies and a machine gun — marched through the streets to the Russian Legation. Their sudden presence was a mystery until it was revealed that King Gojong and the crown prince had accepted asylum there — away from the pro-Japanese government. For just over a year, the Korean monarchy — much to the embarrassment of many in the royal court and especially the Japanese Legation — remained guests of the Russian government.

According to popular belief, it was during this period that King Gojong became familiar with Western architecture and culture. Some have suggested that while living in the Russian Legation, the king first encountered coffee and developed a taste for it. This is only partially true. While he may have acquired a taste for the drink — with a single cube of sugar — coffee had actually been known in the Korean palaces since the mid-1880s.

Gojong was apparently impressed with his new accommodations. “These Western buildings are spacious and lofty. Once the cool air enters, it doesn’t escape easily,” he observed. His room stayed relatively cool in the summer and warm in the winter, prompting him to note that even “though it doesn’t have ‘ondol’ floor heating, the bed is thick and high, so there’s not the slightest chill.”

My favorite anecdote of Gojong’s stay at the legation involves a young tiger cub. The American ambassador’s wife attended a tea party there in June 1896 and described the animal as “the queerest looking little thing” she had ever seen. It was “as large as a good sized cat, but with enormous claws and ears, and [the] most wicked looking eyes.”

Deoksu Palace in the first part of the 20th century / Robert Neff Collection

According to her, “some Korean peasants in the northern part of the country were out walking and saw two large eagles, each with a tiger’s cub in his mouth, or rather talons, and the Father and Mother tigers following after them.” The peasants later found the tigers’ lair, where one cub had been left behind. They sent it as a gift to the king, who, “not caring for it,” gave it to his host, the Russian minister, so that it could be sent to a zoological garden in Russia.

The American minister’s wife was so enthralled with the feline prince that she returned a week later with her sister to photograph it. In a letter home, she wrote:

“[The little tiger] was most obstreperous and did not want to have his picture taken at all. He growled and fought and showed his teeth and seemed possess of all the tiger characteristics. Finally after a good switching, Lily [her sister] caught him on the fly, just as he was jumping from the table.”

It is unclear exactly when the tiger cub left the legation, but we do know when the Korean monarch and his son departed and took up residence at Deoksu Palace. On Feb. 20, 1897, an American residing in Seoul noted in her diary that the Korean king had moved to the new palace, where “he will be near all the Foreign Legations, where he will feel secure.” She had been busy hosting “an informal tiffin” with the American minister to Korea, so she did not witness the royal procession herself — but many others did.

An engraving depicting the destruction of Deoksu Palace in April 1904 / Robert Neff Collection

According to The Independent — a newspaper published in Seoul:

“The streets leading from the Russian Legation to the new Palace were lined with soldiers and police, presenting, altogether, a martial appearance to the foreign settlement. There were a number of foreign ladies and gentlemen at different places along the route, who watched the procession with interest.

“The procession was largely foreign in style, but occasionally mixed with old fashioned pageantry. There were some Korean yangbans who donned the butterfly hats and balloon sleeves, and who carried the royal sword, strutting along in true a la Korean gait.”

“The students of the Paichai School formed a line outside of the regular line of soldiers, carrying the Korean flags and when the Royal Personages appeared the boys cheered His Majesty and the Crown Prince, throwing flowers on the road as the royal chairs passed.”

Deoksu Palace in November 2019 / Robert Neff Collection

The following day, foreign diplomats were invited to the palace and formally greeted by the king. According to The Independent, the king addressed them, saying:

“Just over a year ago We went to the Russian Legation under very unfortunate circumstances. But through the friendly spirit of the Russian Government and the hospitality of the Russian Minister, We spent one year in that Legation in safety and comfort. The country is again in peace, the circumstances have changed, and We returned to the Palace yesterday.”

But the peace was short-lived. The animosity between Russia and Japan finally erupted into war in February 1904, leaving Korea a mere pawn to be played by either of its powerful neighbors. The Korean monarchy’s plight was exacerbated further two months later by a fire that began just before midnight on April 14. By morning, a large part of the palace including valuable documents and books, large amounts of Japanese paper currency and other valuables were destroyed by the flames. Even though the damage was great, there was only one fatality, a young Korean boy who was killed by the flames.

A rare moment of solitude at Deoksu Palace in November 2019. In the background is Jeonggwan Pavilion where Gojong is said to have enjoyed drinking coffee. Robert Neff Collection

Yun Chi-ho, a Korean statesman, bitterly wrote in his diary:

“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.”

Yet despite his bitterness, Yun was moved by Gojong’s demeanor. “[The king] was in good spirit laughing and talking as if nothing of consequence had happened. I was involuntarily moved to tears at his kindly words. Such the power of an autocrat over a common mind.”

The Underwood family were also witnesses to the fire. Lillias Underwood wrote that Gojong, “not desiring to occupy either of the other palaces so full of mournful and terrible associations, took refuge with his family and suite in the Imperial building which was erected a few years before next door to our house.”

Gojong considered the presence of Americans nearby as a form of protection and “was glad to have the American flag and American people at his door.” As Lillias described it: “A sentinel paces before our gate, a guard are lodged in our [living room] and we are of the unenviable few, who as princes or prisoners — much the same thing — are kept by armed men, for royalty sleeps hard by!”

Deoksu Palace was rebuilt, but the monarchy was doomed — and Underwood’s sentiment proved to be almost prophetic. In 1907, Gojong was forced to abdicate in favor of his son. Just three years later, in 1910, Korea lost its independence when it was annexed by Japan. Deoksu Palace became Gojong’s gilded prison until his death in January 1919.

For those interested, a new exhibit (“The Korean Empire’s Palace, Built in Western Architecture”) is now being held at Deoksu Palace.

I would like to express my appreciation to Diane Nars for her invaluable assistance.