On passing from the square into the precincts of the palace by the main gateway you have a vision of harmony in green; a delicate, subtle blending of greens in courtyard buildings, and pine-trees behind them, while the range of hills towers in the background. A beautiful bridge spans a sort of moat, over which grotesque stone creatures lean towards the water as if about to plunge into it. On the right there is an entrance to an open space of ground where the Japanese are erecting a boys’ school. This is a hard blow to Korean pride, but unfortunately our Japanese allies are apparently reckless of such details, and instead of trying to make their protectorate as conciliatory as possible, they too often do the reverse; indeed it is only in rare instances that they seem to do otherwise. In many ways they are doing a great deal which should benefit the country, but in such a manner as to make it thoroughly obnoxious. It is of little use to repudiate the idea of annexation, when they trample on the dearest wishes of the Korean, and treat him as a vanquished foe. From this courtyard one passes into others where the sewing women used to live, for there are numbers of courts surrounded by houses varying in size and importance, but all of them in a state of decay.
The palace is the most beautiful and cherished spot in the capital, and it is sad to see it falling to pieces with alarming rapidity, while the part inhabited by the Empress was absolutely destroyed and its very stones used in the construction of other buildings.
The great audience chamber is a glorious colour study in green, Venetian red, gold, and blue, with lofty pillars stretching up to the ornate roof, which culminates in a centrepiece of gold dragons, somewhat different in design from the Chinese dragon. Although it is only one storey, the roof has been so built so as to give it a great appearance of height. All round the hall are latticed windows, which could be set open for large audiences. The hall is surrounded on three sides by a fine large paved court, through the centre of which runs a double line of stones like milestones; they mark the places where the courtiers used to stand according to their rank when waiting their turn for audience on state occasions.
Court beyond court the palace stretches to the Emperor’s private apartments, which were more modest in size than the public halls.
The Emperor used to rise about noon, so the morning hours were quite quiet, no unnecessary labour being permitted. The imperial réveillé was announced by a roll of drums, summoning all courtiers, physicians, and attendants to be in readiness for his Majesty’s appearance. Then the courts became thronged like a busy hive of bees; the courtiers got out of their chairs at the entrance, and were only allowed to bring in one or two attendants, while the remainder of their retinue waited outside. The court dress consists of a beautiful myrtle green coat, a square breastplate (betokening the official rank) fastened on by a thick belt standing out several inches from the body, black velvet top-boots with white soles, and a peculiar tall black cap made of horsehair, with ears of the same material standing out on each side of it. This costume forms the design on the cover of the book, and it was a Korean gentleman who kindly gave me the opportunity of sketching it. This costume was also worn by eunuchs when on duty in the palace. As in China, eunuchs have played a sorry part in the political game in Korea.
The ordinary business of the court used to be transacted during the afternoon. Sometimes one of the ministers of the foreign legations would be received in audience by his Majesty, and sometimes there would be a special function with regard to ancestral worship. Once a year the Emperor would go to a certain field outside Seoul (which was pointed out to us near the east gate of the city) to plough the first furrow of the year.
After sundown the gates of the palace were shut and barred, and no one might go in or out without special permission of the Emperor. During the night state business was transacted, and not only was his Majesty informed of matters of importance, but he was also entertained with the small talk of the palace. There were always one or two Ministers of State on duty throughout the night, and they left the palace at daybreak, when the Emperor retired to rest.
To the left of the Emperor’s private apartments there is a gateway leading out into a place of delight, a large walled garden containing a spacious open summer-house surrounded by water. It is on a stone platform, and consists of two storeys, supported on handsome pillars and devoid of walls. The roof was of the usual Chinese type, with overhanging eaves enriched with carvings painted blue, green, and gold, contrasting finely with the Venetian red of the balcony and ceilings. A flight of steps leads down from it to the pond which is full of lotus blossoms, below which gold fish may be discerned in peaceful security. Here again the hand of time is heavy, walls are falling down, steps dropping asunder, and the brickwork beginning to crumble at the present time. It is only used for Japanese garden parties, and one would fain hope that the Japanese love of beauty will conquer prejudice sufficiently to save it from the ravages of time and neglect before it is too late. Beautiful pine-trees and hills form a worthy setting to this jewel.