Chapter 09 ….
Mozart in Joseon
Second Courtyard
The Nation of Rites and Music (2)
“I’ll be back.”
“Don’t stay out too late.”
“Yes.”
Mo Daehwan smiled faintly.
When he said he would allow him to visit the market if he passed the test, his grandson memorized the entire Elementary Learning: Admission Section overnight.
They say you can tell a promising tree by its first sprout.
Mo Chaedo precisely remembered and performed Yeongsan Hoesang, which he had heard only a few times, and memorized the Thousand Character Classic in less than five days, showing sharp intelligence in many areas.
But what pleased Mo Daehwan the most was the fact that his grandson showed talent for sound.
The boy’s sound was clear and pure, faithfully reflecting his innocent nature.
The discordant tones and improper melodies were merely due to a lack of instruction.
If taught the correct sounds properly, Mo Daehwan firmly believed that the boy would one day carry out governance founded on rites and music.
Mo Daehwan suddenly took out a sheet of hanji paper tucked between books.
It bore the courtesy name he had personally devised for his grandson after days of deliberation.
“…It’s good, though.”
He had agonized over the name even before the child was born, yet the boy preferred “Gaeddongi,” which secretly disappointed him.
* * *
After finally getting permission from Grandfather to visit the market, I went out, but once again gained little.
As I searched for a snack before heading back, a yellow-skinned fruit caught my eye.
A Korean melon.
I remembered its crisp texture and sweet flavor.
“Looks good.”
As soon as I muttered that, the estate servant stepped forward on his own.
“How much?”
“Two mun per piece.”
“How many should I buy?”
When the servant asked, I held up two fingers.
“Give me two in this basket. You know the Minister of Rites’ household, right?”
“Of course. I’ll bring them right away.”
The servant turned with a smile.
But as the fruit vendor cheerfully packed the melons, the quantity looked suspicious.
“How many did you buy?”
“I asked for forty.”
I couldn’t understand how two fingers became forty melons.
“Two would’ve been enough.”
“Pardon?”
The servant’s face seemed to ask, in Joseon terms, ‘Who would that even satisfy?’
The most baffling thing about Joseon is the amount people eat.
Ever since I was an infant, they fed me until I nearly burst, and only stopped after patting my belly to confirm it was completely full.
At first, I wondered if they were treating me like foie gras.¹)
But after eating in the same space as Grandfather and Father, I realized it wasn’t done out of malice.
They would pile rice into bowls the size of their faces and eat like that both morning and evening.
After every meal, they always had fruit—apples or melons—and Grandfather would usually eat ten, Father as many as twenty.²)
The spectacle kept the long meals from being boring, but since I was already full, being constantly asked if I was sick made me uncomfortable.
“Well. Eating them tonight will be just right.”
“Heh heh. Right?”
The servant smiled innocently.
“Can’t we eat one now?”
“Oh—would you like a taste first?”
He respectfully offered a melon.
“Take one for yourself too.”
“Heh heh. Thank you.”
We sat at the edge of the market and began eating one melon each.
“What does two mun amount to?”
“Yes?”
The servant blinked.
I had asked because one melon cost two mun, but he didn’t seem to understand.
“How long do you have to work to earn two mun?”
“Well…”
“How much does an average person earn in a month?”
“A day laborer gets about twenty mun a day…”
He tilted his head, clearly struggling with multiplication.
If one earns twenty mun per day, working all month yields about six nyang.
Considering days off and uncertainty of work, an average annual income would likely fall between fifty and seventy nyang.
“If someone earns fifty nyang a year, can they live comfortably?”
“That’d be enough to keep a family fed.”
“And seventy nyang?”
“They wouldn’t go hungry at all—pretty comfortable.”
The servant took a big bite of melon.
The economic power of Joseon’s people would be a variable in my future activities.
The reason The Magic Flute earned so much was because many people attended.
That meant there were many bourgeois—people for whom paying to watch performances wasn’t a burden.
If I wanted to make a living from my music without relying on kings or nobles, ordinary people needed to be prosperous.
If seventy nyang a year counted as “comfortable,” that seemed like a workable baseline.
“Are there many people who earn seventy nyang a year?”
“I’m not sure.”
Naturally—an ordinary servant wouldn’t know.
I’d have to ask Grandfather who collects taxes.
“Then—is the Ttakttagi troupe famous?”
“I’d say so. No one in the capital doesn’t know them.”
According to him, the troupe had strong name recognition.
Even so, their performances were very small.
Very few people paid during shows, and given the size of the troupe, each member must receive very little.
Low income meant they couldn’t hire many people or invest in props or direction.
It also affected the number of performances—the biggest factor in revenue.
“Do those people always perform on the street?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing indoors?”
“Well…”
Judging by his reaction, the concept of a theater didn’t exist.
I had asked Grandfather and Father as well, but neither knew of any building suited for large-scale performances.
It seemed performances in Joseon were basically held in streets or courtyards.
That was an unexpected problem.
I had assumed there would be demand for music thanks to virtuosos like Grandfather—but I was mistaken.
I’d been coming to the market often after Buddha’s Birthday hoping to see other performances, but it was always fruitless.
Vienna, where dozens of parties and concerts were held every night, was a completely different world.
“Are you worried about something?”
“…What do you think of things like Sandae-nori?”
“Pardon?”
“Do you want to watch them?”
“Well… why would I watch something like that? I’m not interested at all.”
Given his position serving nobles, it would be hard to admit enjoying satire of nobles.
“It’s okay. Be honest.”
I pressed again, and he scratched his head.
“Well… it’s kind of interesting. And there’s nothing else to watch, so… yeah.”
Since many people watched Sandae-nori, there was demand.
That was how troupes like the Ttakttagi troupe survived.
If something appeared that people were willing to pay to see, making money wouldn’t be impossible.
But the process wouldn’t be easy.
I couldn’t say how long it would take.
There had to be some way musicians made money here—but I didn’t know it yet.
“There’s no time.”
“You can come again tomorrow.”
I needed to return as soon as possible.
My wife, Constanze, was still suffering greatly at this moment.
My financial situation at the time of my death was not good.
Cash on hand: sixty florins.³)
Money lent out: eight hundred florins—but none would be repaid, so it had to be excluded.⁴)
What remained were belongings—the most expensive being a piano worth nine hundred florins and a billiard table worth about eight hundred.
If Constanze had sold them at fair value, she could have secured about 1,760 florins.⁵)
But the debt was far greater.
Even counting only what I remembered, it exceeded 3,000 florins.⁶)
Enough to buy a fine house in central Vienna, or roughly four Vienna pounds of gold.⁷)
In Vienna, earning 3,000 florins in one or two years was possible—but here, without even a violin or piano, it wouldn’t be easy.
“Ich brauche doch ein Instrument……”
“Yes?”
“No—just talking to myself.”
I needed an instrument.
A piano, which could provide harmony alone, would be ideal—but there was no way to find one in Joseon.
What should I do?
Without harmony, my music would be incomplete.
If I could at least find an accompanist…
But no one here would understand my music.
That meant I’d have to teach one.
And if many people thought, like Grandfather, that only pure pitch was music, even that wouldn’t be easy.
I’d have to teach them from the very beginning.
But would anyone trust and follow me?
It wouldn’t be easy.
With no immediate solution, I calculated how much I needed.
Considering debt and travel costs, about ten thousand florins.
That was an enormous sum—enough to buy roughly fourteen Vienna pounds of gold.
“….”
Come to think of it, I didn’t even know if gold existed here.
Even if it did, I didn’t know what they called its weight.
“Hey—do you know gold? Golt?”⁸)
“What’s that?”
Nothing was easy.
I sighed and stood up.
“Never mind. Let’s go back.”
“Yes.”
As we walked, a very delicate sound of strings and wind instruments drifted from afar.
It grew closer with each step.
Not solemn like Grandfather’s geomungo, nor loud like the Ttakttagi troupe.
It was graceful—like falling petals.
Most of all, it was a concerto, with melody and accompaniment in harmony.
Overjoyed, I ran toward it, only to be blocked by a tall wall.
“Lift me up.”
“What?”
“Hurry.”
“Good heavens—do you know where this is?”
“Hurry!”
“I’d rather die than do that!”
“I’ll give you another melon.”
He shook his head vigorously.
“Two.”
He immediately crouched, and I climbed onto his shoulders.
Inside was a pavilion hidden in a secluded garden.
Four noble-looking men, two women in splendid clothing, and four men who appeared to be musicians.
With a table full of food and drinks, it was clearly a small banquet.
Not large—but nobles here enjoyed music and wine too.
Of course they did.
People are the same everywhere.
This was a beautiful chamber-music venue.
I’d been wondering how musicians earned money—small parties like this must be their main income.
Being party music, it was far more engaging than court music.
The singing woman, the woman playing strings, and the man playing the piri were especially outstanding.
They were surely famous performers.
“I want to meet them.”
“What?”
“I want to see them.”
I wanted to know what styles were popular among nobles, whether they could handle the accompaniment I required, and what instruments existed beyond the geomungo.
“Young Master, this isn’t somewhere you should be.”
“Why not?”
“Anyway, no. Didn’t the lord say to be back before sunset?”
Reluctant, I looked a little longer and noticed a signboard.
“Chunmongjae.”
It seemed to mean House of Spring Dreams.
“Oh dear, Young Master, please stop. Everyone’s watching.”
“Alright.”
The servant urged me insistently, and I had no choice but to turn away.
Notes
-
Foie gras originated in ancient Egypt around 2500 BCE, spread to Rome, and became established in French cuisine after being introduced to the French royal court in the 17th century.
-
Apples were eaten from the late Goryeo period, though they were much smaller, similar to crabapples. Large red apples appeared only in the late 19th century.
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One florin ≈ 20,000 KRW.
-
Mozart lent 300 florins to Franz Gilofsky, who died before repayment, and 500 florins to Anton Stadler, which Mozart forgave.
-
Constanze actually obtained 592 florins 9 kreutzer from selling his belongings.
Source: Prod’homme & Baker, The Musical Quarterly (1927). -
Records show Constanze repaid 918 florins 16 kreutzer to ten creditors; larger debts of 1,800 and 1,435 florins were excluded. Some records claim total debt reached 30,000 florins.
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One Vienna pound ≈ 560g.
3,000 florins could buy about 2.4 kg of gold. -
Gold — pronounced closer to “golt” in German.
