Episode 3
On the Eve of Revolution (1)
1851, a tavern at Mapo Ferry.
It was an evening when the autumn wind bit sharp enough to make one clutch at the collars of thin clothing.
Wonbeom sat in a room at a tavern near Mapo Ferry, accompanied by Sangseon and interpreter Oh Gyeongseok.
Around the tavern, several rugged-looking men had surrounded the building as if laying siege, keeping watch on the interior, while only two guards in plain clothes stood before the door of the room where Wonbeom’s party was seated.
“Your Majesty, he will arrive shortly.”
Oh Gyeongseok broke the silence.
Interpreter Oh Gyeongseok.
He was a man who would later be renowned as one of the founding fathers of Enlightenment thought, alongside Bak Gyusu and Yu Honggi.
Surely, men of talent such as these would be necessary to exercise direct rule.
Wonbeom had already, in secret, made him one of his own men.
No one within the palace seemed to think it significant that Wonbeom was close with Oh Gyeongseok, who was of commoner origin.
“Will he come to this meeting?”
Wonbeom asked again, as if to confirm.
“He will certainly come. It is clear that he, too, will be interested in Your Majesty’s words. However, I am concerned whether he will follow Your Majesty’s will.”
Oh Gyeongseok and Sangseon could not hide their unease.
“He has arrived.”
One of the guards standing watch before the door spoke.
“Show him in.”
At Wonbeom’s command, a man entered the room, where only candlelight flickered. Contrary to expectations, he was plainly dressed, with a rugged impression.
“Your name is Gwangmun, is it not?”
Gwangmun (廣文).
He was a self-made figure who had risen from beggar origins to become the leader of the Geomgye (檢契).
“That is correct, Your Majesty.”
“I am grateful that you have come here.”
“I merely wished to see what kind of man the king of this country, Joseon, was.”
Depending on how one heard it, these were words that could give offense.
“How do you see Joseon today?”
Perhaps because the question was somewhat unexpected, Gwangmun smiled bitterly.
“The corruption of local magistrates and clerks has reached its extreme. It is common to collect the military cloth tax even from young children who bear no duty of military service, to say nothing of the dead. I have heard of incidents where a child’s mother cuts off the child’s genitals to beg exemption from the tax.”
“Even I am not unaware of these things.”
Wonbeom spoke with a sigh.
“I had not expected Your Majesty to ask such a question.”
“……”
Wonbeom could say nothing, as if he himself had become a criminal.
“Whose fault do you see this as?”
He said, looking at Gwangmun.
“Is this not a world where one can easily obtain a local magistrate’s post by lining the pockets of Kim Mungun or Kim Jwageun with the people’s hard-earned blood and sweat? And those local magistrates and powerful local families, never knowing when their positions might be seized by another, squeeze money even from the dead to preserve their seats. You who are placed in the palm of such men’s hands are the king—you must know this well. Is this country of Joseon not a nation solely for them?”
Kim Mungun was Wonbeom’s father-in-law, and Kim Jwageun was the younger brother of Queen Sunwon, who had placed Wonbeom on the throne.
In the end, was Gwangmun not blaming Wonbeom?
“As you say, this country of Joseon has become one where the king is no true king, and the subject fails to play the role of a subject.”
Wonbeom spoke in a tone of resignation.
“Did you go to the trouble of coming here because you did not know that?”
Gwangmun retorted as though rebuking him.
“Mind your tongue.”
Sangseon, who had been listening from the side, stepped forward and spoke.
“If you intended to pick and choose what to hear, why did you ask to meet me? You could not have come here unaware that with a single word from me, even the king of this land might not leave this place alive.”
Gwangmun glared at Wonbeom as he spoke.
It was not an incorrect statement.
“Sangseon, be still. Gwangmun, I intend to rebuild this country of Joseon.”
Wonbeom spoke in a tone of conviction.
At those words, Gwangmun’s gaze, which had been glaring at Sangseon, turned toward Wonbeom.
“The Joseon you rebuild—whose country will it be?”
The answer to this one question from Gwangmun would determine whether Wonbeom would leave this room alive today or not.
“There are people I must find. They are neither royalty like myself, nor powerful nobles like them. I wish to build a Joseon where I can live happily together with them.”
“……”
Gwangmun listened quietly and attentively to Wonbeom’s words.
A country where everyone could live happily together with those who were neither royalty nor powerful nobles?
“I shall build a nation of the people. Not a nation of the Yi clan, the Kim clan, or the Jo clan, but a nation of the people.”
A look of surprise was evident on Gwangmun’s face.
He had never imagined that a king who had handed the entire country over to the Andong Kim faction would speak such words.
“Does the present king possess the strength to do so?”
Gwangmun looked at Wonbeom with eyes of doubt.
Ideal and reality were different by nature.
To realize an ideal, strength was necessary.
“That is precisely why I have come to find you. Become my hands. Your strength is needed to build a nation of the people.”
“……”
Gwangmun stared into Wonbeom’s eyes without a word.
“What is it you wish me to do?”
Gwangmun, who had been glaring at Wonbeom for some time, opened his mouth.
“Become my hands and feet.”
Wonbeom looked at Gwangmun with a gaze filled with conviction.
***
A mountain fortress in the valley of Magoksa Temple in Gongju, Chungcheong-do.
This valley, nestled around the thousand-year-old temple of Magoksa, was a place so inaccessible that it was designated as one of the Ten Victorious Sites in the Jeonggamrok.
“Chief, do you believe the king’s words?”
Pyo Cheolju asked, looking at Gwangmun, who was lost in thought.
Pyo Cheolju, one of the two vice-chiefs within the Geomgye, was a man who believed that Joseon must cease to exist for the people to live as people should.
“We shall see. For now, he told me to reorganize the Geomgye. He said to gather skilled blacksmiths, gunpowder experts, and gunners adept at handling firearms.”
Gwangmun answered, gazing at the candle on the table.
“Are the king and those nobles not all the same?”
“Let’s watch and see.”
***
One year later.
“So this is the famous main stronghold of the Geomgye.”
A man who appeared to be a Geomgye operative removed the cloth blindfolding Oh Gyeongseok’s eyes.
Immediately, unfamiliar scenery unfolded before Oh Gyeongseok’s eyes.
On one side of the mountain fortress, massive furnaces billowed smoke, and a thundering iron device spewing steam rotated without cease beside the furnaces.
On the other side, gunners could be seen training with firearms.
“I hope you understand, even if it was somewhat uncomfortable. Time is necessary for trust to build between us.”
Jeong Hyeonu, a man with refined features, spoke as he looked at Oh Gyeongseok.
Jeong Hyeonu was another of the Geomgye’s vice-chiefs.
If Pyo Cheolju was Gwangmun’s right arm, translating his will into action, then Jeong Hyeonu was Gwangmun’s left arm, serving as his strategist.
“You have finally succeeded in making a steam engine?”
Oh Gyeongseok asked, looking at Jeong Hyeonu with surprised eyes.
A machine ceaselessly spewing vapor.
It was unmistakably a steam engine.
“What have I done? It is those two who accomplished it.”
Jeong Hyeonu pointed to two people who were staring only at the steam engine, unaware that Oh Gyeongseok was passing by.
Kim Gidu and Gang Yun.
According to history, the first steam engine made in Joseon was in 1867.
In 1866, an incident occurred in which the American merchant ship General Sherman imprisoned Koreans in the Daedong River basin and demanded trade.
However, the General Sherman was sunk by the Joseon army and people led by Bak Gyusu, who was then the Pyeongyang Governor. At that time, utilizing the Haeguk Toji, which contained designs for Western ironclad steamships, and the wreckage of the General Sherman, the technicians Kim Gidu and Gang Yun created Joseon’s first wooden steam armored ship the very next year, in 1867.
A record from that time remains in the Seungjeongwon Ilgi, stating: “Because it was not preheated, at first it was slow like a turtle, but later power was applied and it succeeded, and it also succeeded in carrying and firing cannons.” It is said that two more ships were constructed afterward, and a total of three were used for training.
What was astonishing was that what Kim Gidu and Gang Yun created at that time was not merely the wooden steam armored ship.
They also created an aquatic flying vessel called the Hakujo Biseon and a type of naval mine called the suroepo.
Even before recruiting Gwangmun, Wonbeom had already instructed Kim Gidu and Gang Yun to secretly research the steam engines described in the Haeguk Toji.
Of course, it was Oh Gyeongseok who, under Wonbeom’s secret orders, had brought the Haeguk Toji, comprising one hundred volumes, from Qing China.
However, unlike in original history, there was no wreckage of the General Sherman.
Because of this, it had taken Kim Gidu and Gang Yun well over two years to create a steam engine.
“This way, please.”
Jeong Hyeonu led Oh Gyeongseok toward a shabby-looking warehouse.
The warehouse was an ordinary structure with its sides haphazardly covered in planks and its roof thatched with reeds.
When the creaking door opened and they entered, the scenery inside was quite different from what one saw outside.
“This is the newly made firearm.”
Jeong Hyeonu spoke proudly, lifting a single firearm from among countless weapons.
“Whoever conceived of this is truly remarkable.”
Jeong Hyeonu pulled the bolt as he spoke.
This was the first modern rifle that Joseon had come to possess.
To produce a firearm of modern form, it had been necessary to solve rifling manufacturing technology, the production of non-bursting barrels, the implementation of an automated loading system, the production of cartridges integrating bullet, casing, and primer, and the production of powerful gunpowder.
However, there was no way that the technologies necessary to produce such a rifle existed in nineteenth-century Joseon.
First, to create such a rifle, several prerequisites mentioned above needed to be resolved.
First and foremost, producing firearms through existing casting methods resulted in poor durability, creating the risk of the barrel bursting.
Fortunately, there was some room to solve this problem partially.
He had remembered the contents of the Illustrated Manual of Newly Manufactured Military Equipment written during King Jeongjo’s reign, which stated that the barrels of the twin cannon, Gapin Myeongpo, and Eulchuk Myeongpo were manufactured through forging to increase precision and stability.
If forging was possible, it would be enough to produce firearms that significantly lowered the risk of bursting.
First, the skills of the artisans who had produced the cannons mentioned in the Illustrated Manual of Newly Manufactured Military Equipment were needed.
Choe Cheonyak and Yun Pilin.
Those who had inherited their skills had to be found.
They were Choe Myeonik, descendant of Choe Cheonyak, and Yun Hyeonro, descendant of Yun Pilin.
They had been working at the Gun’gisi as artillery artisans—a smelting specialist and a forge master.
Fortunately, they possessed forging techniques handed down through generations.
However, it had to be expected that considerable time would be needed for miniaturization.
Next, technology to insert rifling into the barrel was needed.
Since there was no way modern lathes existed, to imitate them even roughly, the chanhyeoljangs of the Gun’gisi had been secretly brought here.
In this Joseon where all order had been lost, there was no one who would care about a few artisans from the Gun’gisi disappearing.
The chanhyeoljang was an artisan who performed the grinding work of boring holes into gun barrels.
Considering that in the West, rifling was first realized by hand, the expectation that the chanhyeoljangs could realize rifling was not unreasonable at all.
If they could bore holes into forged barrels, they could surely borrow the power of steam engines or water to realize rifling, however crude.
Next, the problem was realizing the bolt-action operating mechanism.
He roughly knew the operating mechanism and internal structure, but knowing it and translating it into reality were different matters.
The key was producing each component with precision.
For now, they had to proceed by hand to obtain a prototype.
The outcome could by no means be guaranteed.
Gunpowder had been given up on long ago.
Producing smokeless powder here in Joseon was practically impossible.
Though its low ignition point presented a great risk of explosion, they had no choice but to use existing black powder.
The bullet and casing also caused trouble.
Because black powder had to be used, the casing had to be made larger than what I had seen in the 21st century.
And because they planned to manufacture the bullet and casing from brass—an alloy of copper and zinc—large quantities of copper and zinc were needed.
Of course, brass specialists were also needed.
He remembered that brass was called sinju in the Joseon era.
“That’s right! Brass basins, sinju basins!”
For a time, sinju basins around Gongju inevitably became scarce.
Of course, there was also the incident of all nearby sinju artisans disappearing overnight.
They had been forcibly brought to the mountain fortress, but this was a gamble through and through.
The biggest problem was the percussion cap.
“Wasn’t the first person to make percussion caps an English clergyman?”
A clergyman named Alexander Forsyth, who loved hunting, had apparently developed the percussion cap in 1807 using mercury fulminate after failing at duck hunting because his ignition was always too slow.
If this early form of percussion cap could be made into a pellet and attached to the point where the casing met the breech, the percussion cap problem seemed solvable.
“Now I just need to obtain mercury fulminate.”
No matter how closely they had managed to approximate things thus far, this seemed utterly impossible.
After worrying for several days, a fairy tale suddenly came to mind.
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.
In this tale, Alice meets the Mad Hatter.
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland was a book written during the Industrial Revolution.
The Mad Hatter had signified a worker who had suffered an industrial accident.
Specifically, a sick worker poisoned by mercury fulminate.
Wool-felt hats had been one of Britain’s major export items during the Industrial Revolution.
Wasn’t mercury fulminate used in processing the felt cloth that was the hat’s main material?
There was sure to be a hat factory in Hong Kong, ceded to Britain, seeking to exploit cheap labor.
For this purpose, a Geomgye operative disguised as a Japanese opium merchant had to infiltrate Hong Kong via Japan every month.
“Bang! Bang! Bang!”
Before anyone knew it, Jeong Hyeonu was piercing the chest of a target at a shooting range set up behind the warehouse.
Repeated explosions and trial and error made them wonder time and again whether they should abandon this attempt.
The gunpowder artisan Seong Geunsu, who had been testing the integrated cartridge, lost his right arm and the sight in his right eye when the gunpowder exploded during cartridge production, and the military officer Kim Deungryong, who had been test-firing the prototype, suffered severe burns to his hand and shoulder when the firearm burst, dying on a sickbed.
Those who were injured or died like them continued to increase.
Yet because of Wonbeom’s ambition to create a modern rifle, the sacrifices of those many who had died could not be allowed to be in vain.
“The Gwangmu No. 1 rifle is complete.”
While the explosive power of the gunpowder, manufacturing precision, and the establishment of a systematic production line for mass production remained challenges, they had obtained a powerful rifle that present-day Joseon could scarcely dream of.
Oh Gyeongseok happily picked up one of the rifles and examined it closely.
This rifle was not merely a weapon.
It was a precious resource that would rebuild Joseon and make her prosperous.
Wonbeom had named this rifle Gwangmu No. 1.
It was the fruit of blood-and-sweat-stained devotion.
“That is correct. It is still at the prototype stage. Because precision is lacking, there are severe deviations between individual firearms. Daily production capacity is also limited.”
Even so, Jeong Hyeonu smiled proudly as he spoke.