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| The Korean throne in the early 20th century / Robert Neff Collection |
By Robert Neff
Many people are fascinated with royal families. They are surrounded with pomp, elegance, wealth, travel and, more often than not, scandal. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the American community in Seoul also dabbled in a bit of royalty-watching.
Emperor Gojong was often the subject of letters home. Some described him as a handsome man filled with kindness and intelligence; others, however, described him as weak. Empress Myeongseong (Queen Min), his wife, was described as intelligent, witty and with a sense of humor, but it was her horrible assassination in 1896 that gained the most attention.
Following his wife's murder, Emperor Gojong's alleged secret romance and subsequent marriage to an American woman was widely reported in newspapers in the United States and Europe. Of course, none of this was true; he never married or expressed interest in an American woman.
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| Deoksu Palace in the early 20th century / Robert Neff Collection |
The emperor's sons were also popular subjects in letters home, diplomatic reports and newspaper articles. Some accounts were flattering, as was the case with Prince Uihwa (Yi Kang) who was described as charming, good-looking (he had several American girlfriends while studying in the United States) and intelligent. Crown Prince (later, Emperor) Sunjong, however, was described as dull, fat and stupid ― even Korean officials mocked him as being a mama's boy.
Unlike his older half-brothers, Imperial Prince Yeong (Yi Un) was relatively unknown in the foreign newspapers and the accounts we have of him come from a handful of Americans who had ties to the Korean court. He was known for his boyish mischief and kindness. He is the subject of this weekend's articles, as we look at his early childhood as seen through the eyes of American residents in Korea.
In her diary, Elizabeth Greathouse complained about a horrible headache she had from the previous day and the medication she was taking to alleviate it. Perhaps it was this release from pain that caused her to describe Oct. 20, 1897, as "a very agreeable day."
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| Sometimes children who died of smallpox were taken just outside the city gates and wrapped in straw or laid in plain view so that The Guest would be reminded that it had already taken a soul and need take no more. / Courtesy of Diane Nars Collection |
In another part of the palace, there were preparations being made for the arrival of a new member of the imperial family. That night, at 10 p.m., palace attendant Lady Eom ― Emperor Gojong's favorite companion ― gave birth to the imperial prince. Generally, when a queen gave birth to a child, she did so on a delivery mat composed of dried grass, six straw bags, six straw mats, two sheets of wool, two sheets of oil paper, the hide of a white horse and two pelts of squirrels. The horse's pelt was believed to aid the queen in giving birth safely and to protect her and her child. Deerskin reins were also attached to the wall behind the woman so that she could pull on them while in labor. However, Eom was not a queen or empress when she gave birth, so there were some differences in the procedure.
Surprisingly, there was very little mentioned about the birth in the English-language press or magazines in Korea, not even in the gossip-filled diaries of Yun Chi-ho and Elizabeth Greathouse.
On Oct. 23, The Independent reported that in honor of the birth, all construction in and about the palace had been suspended. Later it reported, "On October 25th, Madame [Eom] was given her first title of 'Kui-in,' or 'Noble Lady,' being the title of an imperial concubine of the 2nd class."
Of course, Lady Eom was not the only one to receive official recognition. The editor of the newspaper observed wryly that, "A number of office seekers will be gratified. Those who have served in some capacity in connection with the birth of the prince will be rewarded handsomely in the shape of a fat berth in the Government."
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| A view of Seoul in the early 20th century / Robert Neff Collection |
For the next couple of years, the prince was not mentioned in the letters and commentary of the American community. The activities of his older imperial half-brothers, particularly the romantic exploits of Uihwa, commanded their attention. We can only speculate that Emperor Gojong pampered his youngest son the most ― for the emperor truly did love children ― and planned his future, even contemplating the palace he would build for him.
It wasn't until 1903 that the young prince's name began to appear. Not because of his acts or scandals surrounding him but as a rite of passage for most Korean children.
On April 12, 1903, "The Guest" paid an expected but unwelcomed visit to the young prince. "The Guest" was a polite way of referring to smallpox, a disease that was all-too-common in Korea and claimed a large number of children every year. It did not discriminate between a common laborer's child and the privileged son of an emperor; all were subject to its potentially fatal visit. So high was the mortality rate that children were often not named until after they had survived its visit.
The Guest's visit to any household was viewed with apprehension, but its visit to the palace had the real potential to topple the throne. The U.S. minister to Korea, Horace N. Allen, explained to his sons the dangers the royal family faced caused by the young prince contracting the disease:
"The Imperial Family cannot be touched with iron, so they have not been vaccinated, and as H.M. has never had the disease, his position is critical since, while it may not be very serious for the little prince, for a man over fifty, it would probably prove fatal."
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| The approach to the palace in the early 20th century / Robert Neff Collection |
Every effort was made to quickly cure the prince, even supernatural and divine intervention. According to the April 1903 edition of the Korea Review (an English-language magazine published in Seoul):
"At last accounts the young prince was doing well, the disease having developed normally. Korean mudangs (shaman healers) were called in to placate the small-pox spirit and gifts were sent to many of the monasteries in the vicinity of Seoul for the same purpose. The slaughtering of cattle was prohibited for nine days and all sewing and all driving of nails or hammering of any kind was stopped in the palace. No goods can be carried in or taken out until the set time. These observances are all in strict accord with time-honored Korean customs."
In May, as the prince's condition was "continuing to occasion anxiety, the Imperial Household Department ordered all public works to cease for three months." Allen reported that the palace gates were closed and that a Bavarian prince and Viscount Aoki were not granted audiences with the emperor.
Lillias Underwood, a missionary and former physician to Empress Myeongseong, sarcastically wrote:
"When [the] well beloved little prince was attacked with this disease, the palace gates were closed, all business therein came to a standstill, and hundreds of thousands of yen were spent in mollifying the smallpox deity. The sorcerers went into a trance condition and told the royal family the wishes of 'his Highness, the Sonim (Guest).' Money was thrown to crowds of poor in the streets, night after night, so that the child might have their prayers. When the god still lingered, it was learned that he yearned for an escort to [the Yalu River port city of Uiju] on the northern frontier, and that when that was handsomely provided he would depart. Accordingly, a train of horses loaded with food and valuable presents (attended of course by the sorcerers) were sent from Seoul to the north, and by the time they had reached the border, the little prince was convalescent."
When the prince recovered, the shamans and "sorcerers" were not the only ones rewarded. The emperor bestowed a number of gifts to members of the Board of Medicine. The senior official received a horse and $100; another official was promoted and received $80; two other officials received $60, and various rewards were given to officials of lower ranks.
On June 4, the palace gates were once again opened. Many believed The Guest had departed for the border ― its hunger satiated ― but the evil spirit was not through.
Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books including, Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.
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