International Market (3)
Fortunately, Taesu didn’t bark at Yi Ha-eung with some “So that’s all you’ve got after all that big talk?” nonsense either.
Taesu himself was still in the middle of bringing in ginseng and medicinal herbs from Daegu’s Yakryeong Market.
No matter how skilled Kim Sangro, the master of nautical logistics, and Unchained Bak Seol-chae were, that kind of transport wouldn’t happen in a day or two without a motorboat.
Besides, Taesu thought Yi Ha-eung had done enough to earn his keep.
He turned to Ha Jeong-il, who had saved face for his master.
“You’re pretty useful. So this place called Giyeonggye said they’d take it straight away?”
Ha Jeong-il still looked a little put out. It wasn’t as if he’d never seen Bak Dokki praise someone before.
“It shouldn’t be this easy. I only went to say you should meet them once, that’s all.”
“Well, our Dobansu’s reputation must already be all over the Three Southern Provinces. If they’re merchants, they’d have picked up the rumor fast enough.”
For Ha Jeong-il, the only sensible thought was that if a rumor had reached him, he ought to run. Risk avoidance was the foundation of business.
But in truth, Cha Un-hong’s explanation was the only reasonable one.
“Right. Anyway, that worked out. The goods you’re selling will come from Daegu before the next opening, and you said the return exchange will be handled then too, so you make money at the market and get the repatriation costs on top of that. Everything works out cleanly.”
“Exactly. I’m just glad nothing like a fight breaks out here.”
“You understand propriety better than your master does. Must be a pain to serve under him.”
“Ah, he may look that way, but he’s a kind man.”
Taesu didn’t get especially angry either.
He wasn’t trying to go around the country picking fights and breaking every dojo he could find. If he could make money without conflict and, as a bonus, finish his hidden objective, that was best of all.
“But they’re saying to bring only one person? They’ll receive the cargo separately.”
“Well, you don’t have a proper faction, do you? You’re going in under the name of a Naesang merchant’s subordinate, so it’d be troublesome if you drew too much attention. And let me say this in advance: I have to attend to my lord, so I can’t go.”
“That makes sense too. Got it.”
By the day before market day, even Bak Seol-chae, who had become a regional peddler chief by dumping salt through the Nakdong River region like some sort of millstone, returned with Kim Sangro.
The Naesang merchants, too, were astonished by Taesu’s medicinal herbs and handled the cargo as belonging to Park Chang-su, allowing it to be brought into Waegwan.
Finally, Taesu also checked in on the ship where Sashimi and Wasabi were still staying.
For some reason, Dongnae-bu kept making procedural mistakes and had ended up dumping the two of them on Taesu, saying there was nowhere else to put them.
So Katsu Kaishu and Sakamoto Ryoma were still aboard the ship.
Taesu thought they were like a petty civil servant who kept revising a contractor’s deliverable, dragging things out and refusing to pay.
Still, that was the client, wasn’t it? Until the inspection report was out and the money transferred, the responsibility was Taesu’s.
He pointed at the ship and said, “Then Regional Peddler Chief and Director, please watch over that ship.”
“Huh. In Tongyeong I rammed into a ship, and now I’m being asked to guard one.”
The one making a big show of himself was, of course, Bak Seol-chae.
And the newly minted Director was Kim Sangro.
To repay Kim Sangro’s contribution, he needed a title of some sort even without Cha Un-hong’s advice.
It was a post Taesu had created to clean up the somewhat ambiguous peddlers’ fleet while the iron was hot.
* * *
First, Taesu established the Peddlers’ Ship Office on paper.
At first, he had been going to call it a fleet without thinking much about it, but thankfully the Mountain Spirit stopped him.
[A fleet is a warship, and a troupe is a military formation. What, do you want to declare yourself a rebel army now?]
Angry, Taesu did what an energetic Dobansu would do and started studying Chinese characters that very day.
Cha Un-hong was delighted to teach him.
“Yes. There are several characters for ships, and each carries a different nuance. 舟 is an ordinary boat, 船 is a vessel that floats on water, 方 is a raft, 艇 is a small boat, 舶 is a large ship, and 航 refers to a bridge or ferry crossing. In the Book of Odes, the line ‘To cross the deep waters, we took to the raft and the boat’ — 就其深矣 方之舟之 — means...”
Taesu decided that he could study after peddler unification was finished and it still wouldn’t be too late.
Still, no one objected to the word cheong, meaning an office or bureau.
That was because peddlers already used it often in names like Dongmongcheong and Bibangcheong to imitate the authority of the state.
But as with all imitation, there was no real, detailed organization beneath this bureau.
Taesu, long tormented by the frustration of not being able to use his modern knowledge, built a guk underneath it. He might not have been a civil-service exam candidate or a bureaucrat, but he knew enough about the Korean government’s organizational structure.
That was how Kim Soon-won became West Bureau Chief of the Peddlers’ Ship Office, and Kim Sangro became South-East Bureau Chief.
Kim Sangro had wanted to take charge of the entire east side, but given that his base was Jeju, that was too much to ask. Besides, Taesu also needed to show deference to Kim Soon-won, who had been around longer.
The Ship Office Superintendent overseeing all this was, for now, Taesu himself.
He was the one who most needed mobility at the moment. Later, he thought he might hand it over to Choe Je-u, who was busily building power on Ganghwado, or else promote Kim Soon-won.
This didn’t mean more ships would suddenly appear, but it did matter that he could control them separately from the “Chungcheong Naval Force Wonsando Fleet” belonging to Im In-son and the various independent flotillas of other regional peddler chiefs.
It was the foundation for rapidly mobilizing the forces directly under Taesu’s command.
He sent that plan by way of the peddlers to Ganghwa—using psychic communication in the direction of Yi Seong-nyeo was something to be reserved for real emergencies—and dumped the practical implementation on Choe Je-u.
Then, the next day, he entered Waegwan with Cha Un-hong alone.
* * *
Dongrae’s Choryang Waegwan was the largest foreign residential enclave in East Asia before the establishment of the modern concessions in China.
Dejima in Nagasaki and the tōjinyashiki, the Chinese residential quarter, were tiny in comparison with Choryang Waegwan.
Its scale, measured simply by land area, came to one-sixth of the Shanghai concession seized by Britain after the Opium War. No one would ever think that Joseon’s national strength under King Hyeonjong had been one-sixth that of contemporary Britain or Qing China.
Even Taesu, who had grown fairly used to Joseon by now, was astonished.
“How the hell did they build all this? Japan must be rolling in money.”
Given the Joseon he knew, it should have been impossible. It made perfect sense to assume Japanese capital had been invested in it.
But Cha Un-hong said otherwise.
“What Japan sent over were only things like dancheong, doors, and decorative fittings according to their own customs. I’m told the rest was all built by Joseon.”
“Why? Are they suckers?”
“Well, first of all, this is Joseon land, so there’s the duty of being the host. And if they don’t provide this much, what else can those Japanese do but turn to piracy?”
Indeed, no matter how much a building costs, can it compare to the cost of war? During King Hyeonjong’s reign, famine had left the country so weak it could have been knocked over with a single tap.
Cha Un-hong placed a finger over Taesu’s lips.
“Anyway, let’s not make a big deal of that. The Japanese here probably all know Korean.”
The two of them entered the eastern side of Choryang Waegwan, which was split down the middle by Yongdusan.
The courtyard here was the Waegwan market exchange.
On this market, which could be seen at a glance from the main hall, the opening ceremony began with the Joseon and Japanese delegations greeting one another.
The energy of the market exchange was as hot as a midsummer day in Dongrae.
Though it was called a private exchange, it was still trade with a foreign country, so officials from both Joseon and Tsushima were dispatched to manage it systematically.
Joseon’s representatives were the hundo and byeolcha sent from among the Japanese interpreters.
The Japanese representatives were the various daikan dispatched by the Waegwan steward.
Of course, unless you were talking about the shogunate, it was hard to call Tsushima a government equal to Joseon. Only Tsushima, drunk on its own lies, thought that way.
So the practical counterparts to these daikan were usually the Dongrae Naesang merchants.
The three senior daikan—First Daikan, Second Daikan, and Town Daikan—met with the four guardians of the Naesang merchants as they always did, strengthening their friendship.
“We are deeply moved by the consideration shown by the merchants of Dongrae in gifting us fans in this sweltering summer. And the way you rushed to prepare ginseng during the past plague as well—truly, a nearby stranger is better than a far-off relative.”
In fact, Naesang merchant Park Chang-su had supplied top-grade ginseng that Joseon’s government couldn’t obtain when smallpox broke out in Tsushima a few years earlier. Even Park Chang-su didn’t know why ginseng was used for smallpox, but as long as money was paid, that was that.
But why bring it up again now, all of a sudden, and with fans, which were an ordinary seasonal gift anyway?
Of course, the First Naesang merchant, Park Chang-su, knew exactly why.
A nearby Joseon Naesang was better than the distant shogunate.
If you wanted to catch the shogunate’s agents—who were trying to betray Tsushima and lay the foundations for some “modern diplomacy” or, perhaps, invasion with Joseon—you had to understand that they were saying, We trust only you.
Park Chang-su answered with equal wit.
“It’s only that business has been poor lately, so I’m embarrassed by how meager our gifts are. The meal Tsushima has prepared in return is extremely fine as well. I’ve always had a liking for the clear Japanese soup, suimono, that comes at the end.”
The First Daikan’s eyes narrowed.
“Surely it is not only soup. If we are to develop hawa going forward, we ought to host banquets that put the old three-dishes-and-two-soups table settings to shame.”
If tax-free Japanese silver starts flowing in, a banquet like that would be nothing. The other side would probably say the same if they had tax-free Joseon ginseng.
The representatives of both countries finished the ceremonial exchange on warm, friendly terms.
* * *
Merchants laid out their goods in the eastern courtyard of Choryang Waegwan and traded as if in an ordinary market.
Business was a little slow that morning.
Taesu was used to that; he’d spent enough years going to markets to know this was just what happened with newcomers.
But when a few Japanese who looked like they had failed at some previous deal came over to inspect their ginseng, the situation changed abruptly.
“Th-this is! How long has it been since I’ve seen ginseng of such supreme quality?”
“These days even in Joseon ginseng is so scarce that only leftover rootlets are traded, and yet this much?”
Well, that was because it was ginseng personally selected under the name of Kaesong ginseng king Cha Un-hong. Nice Korean, too.
It was true that ginseng had become scarce in Joseon, but it wasn’t as if only rootlets existed. You just got rootlets.
The Japanese seemed to be losing their minds over a fair ginseng trade they’d never experienced before.
“Where are you all from? I’ve never seen your faces before. I’d like to keep doing business with you.”
Un-hong quickly said, “We were allowed out this time only as Park Jungun’s subordinate merchants.”
“So you’re under O-won, then. If it’s O-won, that’s not strange at all!”
“The Joseon court hands over a bellflower root and calls it ginseng while taking a bribe, you know. Still, Japanese daimyō are busy pocketing merchants’ money too.”
I figured I should say something too, and though my conscience pricked at me, I decided to plant just a little confusion.
“My name is Park Taesu.”
The Japanese apparently assumed I was Park Chang-su’s younger brother. A few even handed me what looked like business cards.
Once that trust was earned, many other medicinal herbs sold as well. Daegu’s Yakryeong Market brought in a lot of good-quality herbs from the mountain regions of Gangwon, which wasn’t all that far away.
Looking around, there were plenty of other goods as well.
The most representative were iron hides, iron horns, and hooves.
A merchant with a surname something like Choe had the whole thing tightly under control on that side. Hmm. Our own Choe clan from Manwoldae could handle some iron hides too.
Listening to the chatter, I heard that 20,000 hides had been brought into Waegwan over the past year. If we opened trade, it would be lucrative. Were they making shoes over there too?
Lunch was eaten from packed meals. Strictly speaking, these were provided as a service by Waegwan for Joseon officials, but in situations like this there was always something left over, so it seemed they were being skimmed off and sold to merchants for cash.
We had brought more than other merchants, but the trading was even more active than that. Everyone here was a big merchant, so they moved large quantities in a single go.
I looked at the sun and judged the time.
“We can sell everything before sunset.”
But then, at that very moment, the two people whose opinions I least expected to line up said the same thing at once.
“That would be a problem.”
[That won’t do, idiot.]
I was briefly thrown. I nearly answered with the face I reserved for the Mountain Spirit.
“Why?”
“Money is money, but that’s not why we came here to sell ginseng or herbs.”
Ah. Right. But was that a reason it couldn’t sell early?
“If it all goes too fast, then once the sun sets we won’t have an excuse to hang around. Our real business starts after that.”
Now I understood.
Right. Our goal was to build connections through backroom dealings.
But what if the officials chased us out? Fight them?
* * *
Taesu’s misunderstanding arose not because he was Bak Dokki, but because he was a modern man.
When officials representing state authority go around and issue a proper notice like this, modern people may grumble, but they almost always comply.
“The sun has set!”
“The exchange is over! Everyone, pack it up!”
If you refuse, it’s only when the order is extremely unjust; from that point on, for people after the modern era, it becomes an emergency.
Fighting breaks out.
But for premodern people, it’s not like that at all.
If the key words of modernity are distinction, definition, and singularity, then premodernity is mixture, confusion, and overlap. Land ownership is the clearest example.
“What are you doing? I said get out!”
“Hold on! The negotiation isn’t over yet. How am I supposed to finish a deal? Please wait a bit.”
“If you’re still here after dark, you’re a loitering crook, you bastard!”
“I just need to piss for a second...”
Even that kind of answer would have been polite. Usually they just pretended not to hear a thing, the way Joseon people did.
Joseon officials were not shy about using whips and clubs in front of foreigners.
But in front of the powerful, they were very sparing indeed, and as with Park Chang-su, who was practically a “deputy commander,” the Naesang merchants were full-fledged high-ranking officials and far more powerful than ordinary field bureaucrats.
Then, after muttering something like, “Well, now that the sun’s gone down, I suppose it won’t do outside,” they would slip insidiously into the various buildings of Waegwan and begin the “real business.” That was the custom of this international market.
Cha Un-hong smiled meaningfully.
“Let’s begin.”
Park Chang-su and the Dongrae Naesang merchants all wore similar expressions.
“Let’s begin.”
Author’s Note
1. Normally, Joseon Naesang merchants gave seasonal gifts to the daikan, and the daikan hosted them with meals.
2. Naesang merchant Park Chang-su entered Waegwan in 1840 with a little over 100 geun of top-grade ginseng. A little before that, smallpox had spread in Tsushima, so he had once urgently requested ginseng from the Joseon government, which may be related to this scene.
3. Usually the daikan served the Naesang merchants a banquet of two soups and seven side dishes, and suimono was also commonly served. For some reason, they also set out flower-arrangement stands.
4. Giving bellflower root as ginseng happened during King Yeongjo’s reign. It was not an order from Yeongjo himself.