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| The emergency palace in the Pukhan fortress region in the early 1900s. Robert Neff Collection |
By Robert Neff
For many young foreign diplomats, Seoul in the late 1880s was a wild and exciting adventure. It was, of course, filled with political intrigue and assassinations; the main players were disgruntled court officials, members of the royal family and, reportedly, even the supernatural.
According to Charles Chaille-Long, the secretary of the American legation in Seoul:
"The King's Palace in 1888 was a collection of yamen, temple-like constructions, gloomy enough in the day, very dark and difficult to illuminate at night ― the very place for the pranks of the Evil Dragon."
One morning ― presumably in the spring ― a great cry arose in the palace. In the middle of the night, while they were sleeping, several of the Korean soldiers at the palace were deprived of their topknots ("sangtu"). This act was a serious blow to their masculinity as topknots were a symbol of manhood ― gained only after marriage.
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| A Korean laborer in the early 1900s. Note the sangtu on his head. Robert Neff Collection |
Messengers were sent to the handful of various foreign legations in the city ― including the American legation ― and the diplomats were informed that they should not be alarmed, as there would "be firing at the palace."
Charles Chaille-Long duly noted:
"During the night, in fact, there was a continuous discharge of Remington rifles, loaded with ball cartridges which pattered on the tiled roof. Several shots, which had certainly missed the Dragon, passed through the sides of my oil-papered chip [house], and this evidence of bad marksmanship induced me to put up defenses in the shape of mattresses, pillows, etc."
The following morning, a messenger arrived at the American legation and told Charles Chaille-Long that the dragon had been driven away and now the city would once again return to peace. Of course, he was wrong.
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| Charles Chaille-Long, the unreliable witness to Korea's past. Public domain image taken from his Wikipedia page |
It was about this time that the Japanese representative for Edison Electric Company appeared in the capital and proposed constructing a power plant within the palace and "turn night into day," which would drive away the dragon.
The Korean monarch was extremely pleased with this proposition and readily agreed. The electrical power plant transformed the palace from a dark, gloomy dragon's haunt into a palace blazing with light, allowing court business to be transacted even at night. "The dragon … plagued the court no more."
Charles Chaille-Long's account is truly entertaining, especially when he added this bit of intrigue ― allegedly, "the Japanese agent of the Yankee Electric Light Company procured the [sangtu]-cutting by one of the King's guards, tempted by a handful of golden yens."
Chaille-Long has long been one of my favorite eyewitnesses of Korean history in the 1880s; not because of his many experiences ― including a trip to Jeju Island and for his alleged role in the Baby Riots of 1888 ― but because he was such an untrustworthy narrator. Many of his anecdotes were self-aggrandizing, filled with exaggerations, mistakes (if I am being generous) and outright fabrications (if I am being honest) and this tale of his concerning the introduction of electricity is no exception.
In our next article, we will examine the real tale surrounding the introduction of electricity to the palace in 1887.
Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books, including Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.
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