The calligrapher's daughter_ a novel - Eugenia Kim [62]
Of course I knew my father was a literati painter of some renown, and that our ancestors had a long history of royal patronage, but to see his work in the sitting room of the empress made me both understand his talent and respect him in a different, larger way. I bowed deeply. “This insignificant person is honored and indebted that Her Imperial Highness has generously allowed recognition of her father’s art.”
“She’s quite charming,” Empress Yun said to Imo. “There’s another screen that’s even more impressive in Huijongdang. Perhaps we’ll arrange for you to see it one day.” Huijongdang was the emperor’s residence, so I knew I would never see it. It was enough to know that my father’s art lived daily among the royal family. It made me quite breathless.
The empress received a message and smiled at me. “It seems the princess also finds your niece charming,” she said to Imo. They discussed a schedule, and my aunt thoughtfully requested that allowances be made for me to attend upper school.
It was decided that I’d go to school six days of the week and attend to Princess Deokhye in the afternoons until an hour before sunset. Then Pang would come to escort me, or I’d walk home with Imo if she were there. The palace had electric lighting generated by an on-site powerhouse built in 1886, which allowed us to study and play late into the day and long after sunset, even in the winter. Because of the electric lights, and because my school was closer to the palace than to Imo’s house, during the week I began spending nights in a room vacated by a lady-in-waiting at Sugang Hall, the princess’s house. In the beginning I was so self-conscious to be an overnight guest that I could barely sleep, but it wasn’t too long before the princess’s retinue referred to the room I slept in as mine. This was a relaxation in protocol that was just another wave in the ebbing tide of royal glory.
I MET THE emperor on Chuseok, the Harvest Moon Festival, that year. It was also the Japanese holiday Shubun no hi, Autumn Equinox Day, so this most important Korean holiday continued to be celebrated under a different name. It brought the court together for the first time since I’d been there. I woke sad that morning, missing Dongsaeng and my mother on the holiday, but the colorful preparations for high ceremony soon chased my homesickness away.
At the palace, we watched Japanese military officers and guards on horses lead a procession of palanquins carrying the royal family and dignitaries down the road to Jongmyo Shrine, which held the memorial tablets of Joseon Dynasty kings and queens. The day was crisp and clear, making the traditional dress of the royalty and ministers brilliant with jeweltones and sheen. Then came rows of men in dark uniforms festooned with ribbons, gold bullion fringe and sashes. A few of these ministers and court officials were Japanese; the others probably were—as my father would disgustedly say—collaborators. We were among the guests following on foot with a rear guard, after which a number of invited spectators joined the parade. The streets were closed to traffic and the route lined with guards, behind which ordinary people thronged to watch the rituals. Since I had never seen a Confucian ceremony, I hadn’t expected the religious solemnity throughout the morning—from the ceremonial march, to the bows, prayers and offerings to the ancestors. Imo told me later