Chapter 05 …
Mozart in Joseon
First Courtyard
The Minister’s House, the Prodigy, Gaeddongi (3)
“Oh my.”
I stood up.
I fell almost immediately, but at last, I was able to stand on my own.
“Madam, did you see that? Our Gaeddongi just stood up.”
When my adoptive father widened his eyes, my adoptive mother nodded happily.
“I’ve never heard of a child standing up this quickly.”
“Indeed. When he was born, he looked so fragile, but these days he changes day by day.”
All I can do right now is eat whatever I’m given and move around as much as possible, but I’m doing my best.
Because I remembered something just as important as adapting to this place over the past few months.
Health.
From childhood, I had suffered from all kinds of illnesses, and in the end, I died from similar symptoms.¹)
Having lived my entire life fearing death, I want to preserve this body’s health at all costs.
After all, I’ll need it to endure the long journey back to Europe.
I have to eat well and move well.
“Yes. Gaeddongi, you must grow strong and healthy.”
“Ah.”
“Yes, yes. That’s Daddy.”
“Ah.”
“Daddy.”
Daddy, Mommy. I’ve already memorized basic words like good and bad, but the words feel like they’re on the verge of coming out, which is frustrating.
“Daddy.”
“Dabba.”
My adoptive parents’ eyes went wide.
I was surprised too.
“Did you hear that just now?”
“Yes. He definitely said ‘Daddy.’”
“To speak already—if that’s not a prodigy, then what is?”
“Gaeddongi, Mommy.”
“Mm-ma.”
My adoptive mother inhaled sharply in surprise.
I was surprised as well.
Just yesterday my pronunciation wasn’t clear at all, but once my speech opened up, even if clumsily, I could move my mouth more or less as I intended.
“Mommy.”
They were overjoyed just from hearing the words Mommy and Daddy.
Once again, I realized how much love I was receiving from them.
—Young master, the Minister is calling for you.
Someone spoke from outside.
“He’s already returned from court? I’ll go at once.”
My adoptive father stood up, looked down at me, and smiled softly.
“Let’s go greet him, Gaeddongi.”
My adoptive mother picked me up.
We went outside and headed toward the largest building on the estate.
It seemed to be the place where my adoptive grandfather lived, and every time we came here, my adoptive father repeatedly used the word “sarangchae.”
“Father, we’ve come to pay our respects.”
“Come in.”
A reply came from inside the room.
My adoptive parents carefully opened the door and entered.
My adoptive father pressed his hands together and bowed low to the floor, while my adoptive mother set me down beside her, sat, and lowered her head as much as possible.
At a glance, my adoptive grandfather was not an easy man.
His eyes and nose were large and prominent, and his fierce gaze made it feel as though I were facing a wild beast.
Avoiding his stare, I noticed a massive stringed instrument placed in one corner of the room.
It was long, flat, and very large.
It looked almost as big as a contrabass, far too unwieldy to hold while playing—perhaps it was played resting on the ground and leaning against the body.
Or maybe it was played exactly as it was now, placed on the floor.
It had six strings, like a viola da gamba or a lute.
The six strings were supported by several bridges, and since the spacing gradually narrowed and the heights differed, it seemed the pitch was adjusted through them.
This must be the string instrument I had been hearing from this room.
“I’ll have to leave the house for a few days.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Minister Park Mun-su has passed away.”
My adoptive father squeezed his eyes shut.
It sounded like bad news.
“So it has finally come to that.”
“They say he shut himself away without even combing his hair until the end. Even if our factions differ, how could I pretend not to know? It won’t take long, so guard the household well while I’m gone.”
“Yes. Please don’t worry.”
“I’ll prepare immediately.”
My adoptive mother said something.
“That’s enough. You’ve only just recovered—why overexert yourself? Leave the work to the servants and don’t trouble your heart.”
At my adoptive grandfather’s words, my adoptive mother bowed her head.
“Is Gaeddongi growing well?”
“Yes. These days he eats well and looks much happier.”
“Just now, he stood on his own and even spoke.”
My adoptive father hurriedly added, speaking from behind my adoptive mother.
“How could a child not even a year old do such things? When affection and pride for one’s child get ahead of reason, it only leads to mistakes.”
“Yes. I will keep that in mind.”
“And you must not neglect your studies either. Now that you have a child, shouldn’t you pursue an official post? How long will you cling only to miscellaneous learning?”
My adoptive father gave an awkward smile.
I didn’t fully understand their conversation, but it seemed even more strained than a typical father–son relationship.
“Mommy.”
Wanting to touch the six-stringed instrument, I reached out and called my adoptive mother.
When there was no response and I called again, my adoptive grandfather’s eyes widened.
“Did you hear that?”
My adoptive father asked brightly.
My adoptive grandfather returned to his solemn expression as if he had never been surprised.
“If his speech has opened this early, he’s certainly a child destined for greatness.”
“Ahem. Didn’t I tell you to restrain yourself?”
My adoptive grandfather raised his voice sternly.
Judging by his manner, he was scolding him.
My adoptive father’s shoulders drooped.
“Father, aren’t you hungry? I’ll tell them to prepare dinner.”
My adoptive mother spoke while looking at my adoptive father.
“Yes. You may go.”
My adoptive mother stood up with me in her arms.
Not knowing when I might come back to this room, I reached out toward the six-stringed instrument.
“Leave Gaeddongi here.”
“Pardon?”
“What would you do carrying a child? He seems curious about this anyway, so leave him.”
My adoptive grandfather said, placing a hand on the six-stringed instrument.
My adoptive mother hesitated and looked at her husband. My adoptive father grinned and nodded.
Carefully, my adoptive mother handed me over to my adoptive grandfather.
With his lips tightly pressed and brows drawn together, his face looked quite intimidating as he stared at me.
“Well then.”
My adoptive parents left the room.
Not understanding what was happening, I could only stare blankly up at my adoptive grandfather—when suddenly, his lion-like face broke into a broad smile.
“Our Gaeddongi can already talk?”
“……”
“Oo-goo-goo. Oo-goo-goo.”
The man who moments ago looked like he could harm someone without blinking now made one bizarre expression after another.
“Grandfather. Try it. Grandfather.”
“……”
“Grandfather.”
It looked like he wouldn’t stop unless I repeated it.
“Ha.”
“That’s it. Grandfather.”
“Harabuji.”
“Excellent!”
My adoptive grandfather lifted me high into the air.
He bent and straightened his knees, bouncing me while saying “dungi-dungi,” shook his head side to side at me, and did all sorts of things to make me laugh.
“I don’t like it.”
When I said that to make him stop, my adoptive grandfather froze in shock.
“I don’t like it.”
To make my meaning clear, I said it again and twisted my body.
I stood up, trying to walk toward the six-stringed instrument. Walking was still difficult, so after taking barely one step, I fell.
My adoptive grandfather picked me up and sat me on his knee.
“You little rascal—can you already stand up?”
I couldn’t tell what he meant.
More than that, I was curious about the six-stringed instrument, so I reached toward it, and he grinned.
“Ho ho. Do you like the geomungo that much?”
My adoptive parents had said it repeatedly, and now my adoptive grandfather clearly pointed to the instrument and called it “geomungo,” so the name of the six-stringed instrument was evidently geomungo.
When I nodded, my adoptive grandfather burst into hearty laughter, set me down, and placed the geomungo across his knees.
He angled the slightly indented end onto his right knee, making it seem as though his entire leg supported the instrument.
“Now then, listen closely.”
My adoptive grandfather straightened his back and held a small wooden stick in his right hand.
With his left hand, he grasped the string bridges.
After calmly steadying his breath, he began to play.
Only after the first note broke the silence and fully permeated the air did he play the next.
It felt like watching clouds floating in the sky, the progression so slow that the flow was barely perceptible.
Yet it was an appropriate tempo for analyzing the instrument and the playing technique.
Listening closely, it was slightly different from before.
E-flat (Es), F, A-flat (As), B-flat (B), D-flat (Des).²)
I couldn’t be sure whether my hearing had improved with growth or whether he was simply playing different notes this time.
Given the nature of string instruments, they can express a wide range of pitches, so I wondered why the scale consisted of only five notes.
For now, I didn’t know the answer, but by varying the playing technique, even the same scale was expressed differently, avoiding monotony.
The vibrato, created by shaking the left hand, was like a lamp illuminating the room.
The glissando, made by dragging the wooden stick, felt like ink spreading through water.
And the portamento, pulling the string upward, was impressive, like a river flowing along a winding path.
Perhaps the wide spacing between notes was meant to allow each tone to be fully expressed.
The resulting performance felt like watching clouds in the sky.
There seemed to be little change.
But just as slowly drifting clouds must be observed at leisure, this piece too demanded such listening.
At first, I thought it was a very boring piece, but once I closed my analytical eyes and focused only on the sound, my mind grew calm.
How much time had passed?
At last, the geomungo’s sound came to a stop.
“Did you use the geomungo’s sound as a lullaby, you rascal?”
I opened my eyes at my adoptive grandfather’s voice.
I clapped my hands to show that I had enjoyed the performance, and once again, his eyes widened.
“Did you like it that much?”
Like is a positive word.
It seemed he was asking whether I liked it.
“What part? What did you like so much?”
When I clapped a few more times, he laughed heartily.
“Geo.”
“Geo?”
“Geo.”
“You seem to want to say something. After listening to your grandfather’s geomungo, did you feel like saying something?”
“Geo-ddong.”
I succeeded.
When I said my own name to mean that I wanted a turn too, my adoptive grandfather’s mouth fell open.
¹) Mozart suffered from various illnesses from an early age.
At age six, he contracted streptococcal infection and acute rheumatic fever; at nine, typhoid fever; and at ten, rheumatism recurred.
It is also believed that he suffered from hepatitis at fifteen and another streptococcal infection at twenty-five, among other serious illnesses throughout his life.
In a letter to his father, Mozart wrote, “Though I am still young, every time I go to bed, I fear that I may not wake up tomorrow.”
²) In German notation, flats (♭) are written as “es.”
As exceptions, E-flat is written as Es, A-flat as As, B-flat as B, and B natural is written as H.
