Black Corporation: Joseon [EN]: Chapter 363

Each time Sejong and Hyang went back and forth on ideas, the stacks of documents grew larger.

This wasn’t solely due to minor details getting mixed into the workflow.

The primary reasons for the increasing volume were differences in mindset and challenges in communication.

* * *

As Hyang became fully involved in the creation of Hangul, he extensively incorporated the grammar and notation systems of the 21st century.

The word ‘extensively’ is used here to emphasize the significant gap between the 21st century and the mid-15th century.

In essence, it was a problem of differing perspectives.

Another hurdle, the communication issue, was inevitable when conducting all discussions in writing rather than through real-time conversations.

Even when examining the same sentence, their interpretations often diverged, leading to ongoing disagreements. This resulted in criticisms, rebuttals, and counter-rebuttals, gradually increasing the amount of material.

* * *

“This won’t work! At this rate, we’ll need a cart to move all this!”

Eventually, Hyang had to directly address the issue with Sejong.

After setting down the stack of papers, which was nearly as large as he was, Hyang immediately got to the point with Sejong.

“Father, if we continue like this, we won’t be able to produce a satisfactory result in a timely manner.”

Sejong nodded in agreement.

“That’s true. By now, we should have finished organizing everything and started producing the Haerye Edition [Explanatory Examples]…”

“The reason the work is constantly delayed is due to communication problems between us. Specifically, errors arise from exchanging ideas in writing like this.”

“Errors…”

Sejong stroked his beard, considering Hyang’s words, and then nodded.

“That’s a very accurate assessment. Indeed, even when discussing the writings of ancient scholars, people often have different interpretations…”

Sejong, recalling the almost non-existent lectures, turned to Hyang.

“You’re right. But there’s a problem. Creating a unique script for our Joseon will be more than just a groundbreaking event; it will be akin to a revolution. Even the ministers who seem supportive now are likely to revolt. Therefore, we must keep it a secret until it’s completely finished. Wouldn’t working in Gangnyeongjeon [King’s Quarters] or Donggungjeon [Crown Prince’s Residence] every night attract the attention of the ministers?”

Eunuchs and court ladies were not supposed to reveal what happened inside the palace, but there were always those with ‘slightly’ loose lips. Until now, they had entrusted the work to carefully selected individuals, but they couldn’t guarantee how long the secret would remain safe.

Sejong’s point was valid, so Hyang thought hard for a solution.

After a moment of contemplation, Hyang thought of a useful resource.

“Father, what about using the Milwi [Secret Royal Guard]?”

“The Milwi?”

“Yes, order the Milwi to find a suitable secret location.”

“Hmm…”

At Hyang’s suggestion, Sejong stroked his beard and weighed the pros and cons. After considering the various scenarios, Sejong made a decision.

“That seems like a good idea. We should have them find a suitable house within 2 gak (刻, approximately 30 minutes) from Gyeongbokgung Palace.”

“Yes, if we can proceed with the work without misunderstandings for even 2 shijin [4 hours], no, even 1 shijin (2 hours), the work will be much easier. Working outside will also attract attention, but we can speed things up and shorten the time.”

“I understand. I’ll summon the Naegeumwijang [Royal Guard Commander] tomorrow and have him proceed with the task.”

* * *

The Naegeumwijang, upon receiving Sejong’s order, immediately relayed it to the Milwi.

“His Majesty has ordered that a thatched-roof house (草屋, chogajip) be sought, as a tiled-roof house would be too conspicuous.”

The Gukjangs [Chiefs] of the Milwi stared blankly at the Naegeumwijang.

“What is it?”

“Do you really think there will be a thatched-roof house near Gyeongbokgung Palace, within a 2 gak distance, suitable for His Majesty to reside in?”

“Ah…. Tsk!”

The Naegeumwijang clicked his tongue and revised the order.

“Just find a suitable house. Somewhere where the interior isn’t easily visible from the outside and is easy to guard. And somewhere where you can return to Gyeongbokgung Palace as quickly as possible in an emergency.”

“Yes, I understand. But why are you suddenly looking for a house? Perhaps…?”

At the question from the 2nd Gukjang, who had a strange look in his eyes, the Naegeumwijang’s face turned fierce.

“It’s not what you’re thinking. Don’t imagine such things. If you do…”

The Naegeumwijang’s eyes, blurring his words and glaring, were full of murderous intent. The 2nd Gukjang, seeing this, immediately lowered his head.

“I won’t even think about it!”

The Milwi was the Milwi. In just three days, they found a suitable house and acquired it through proper negotiations.

The Milwi, having finished cleaning the interior and bringing in the necessary furniture for work, immediately reported to Sejong.

From the night after receiving the report, Hyang and Sejong gathered in that house and shared their opinions on the script.

The script that was created through this process had a significantly different appearance from the Hunminjeongeum [The Proper Sounds for the Instruction of the People] that Hyang had learned about in the 21st century.

The first notable difference was that the writing system was divided into two.

Hyang completely separated the letters for writing the language commonly used by the people of Joseon from the letters created for writing foreign pronunciations – ᄼ, ᄽ, ᅎ, ᅏ, ᅔ, ᄾ, ᄿ, ᅐ, ᅑ, ᅕ, etc. (Note 1) – and explained the reason to Sejong.

“These modified jamo [Korean Alphabet letters] are for recording the sounds of foreign languages, so the general public doesn’t need to know them. Therefore, it would be better to separate this part so that only interpreters and those learning foreign languages can learn it.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if all the people were able to speak one or two foreign languages?”

Hyang shook his head at Sejong’s suggestion.

“If that were easy, Father wouldn’t have had to create a script to replace Chinese characters.”

‘Does this man want to turn Joseon into the Netherlands?’

The Netherlands and neighboring Northern European countries used English as fluently as their own languages. However, that was possible because their languages were all similar, like branches extending from the giant root of the Roman Empire.

Hyang’s argument continued.

“What is the reason Father created a new script? Wasn’t it to make it easy for the people to learn and use? So, is there a need to make them put in effort that isn’t necessary? And…”

After pausing for a moment and clearing his throat, Hyang continued.

“When our Joseon becomes strong, we won’t be learning the languages of foreign countries; instead, foreigners will be learning the language and script of our Joseon.”

Sejong immediately responded to Hyang’s words.

“How wonderful would that be? No, we must make it so.”

“Father will make our Joseon that way.”

Sejong received Hyang’s words with a somewhat embarrassed expression.

“You are flattering your father.”

* * *

As Hyang and Sejong exchanged opinions in real-time and worked together, the speed of progress increased dramatically. The work, which had been sluggish for almost three months after Hyang first took on the task, was nearing completion in about half a month.

Even though the time spent on the work was only an average of 1 and a half shijin (about 3 hours), the speed was remarkable.

The final hurdles of the rapidly progressing work were three: the issue of spacing, the issue of whether to adopt vertical or horizontal writing, and the issue of what to call this new script.

“Spacing… It seems fine, but we’ve been writing well without spacing until now, haven’t we?”

Hyang immediately addressed Sejong’s point.

“The same argument arose when punctuation marks were first introduced, but how is it now? Don’t we use them so well that it would be strange without them?”

* * *

Hyang had strongly advocated for the introduction of punctuation marks from the time he first began to show his talent. In fact, he not only advocated for it but also actively used them.

Although he was young, as the Crown Prince actively pushed for it and Sejong’s support continued, punctuation marks soon became established.

And the punctuation marks that had taken hold quickly proved their usefulness, and they spread not only in official documents but also in letters and private documents among the people.

The people who suffered the most in this process were those who were dragged into the Record Office. This was because they had to use punctuation marks in the process of organizing, classifying, and re-recording past records. That meant that they had to examine not only the old records but also each sentence and each word.

* * *

“But wouldn’t there be concerns about increased paper waste?”

Hyang answered Sejong’s point with a surprised expression.

“Cheap paper is already abundant; who would say such a thing?”

Hyang had shared the Hwangji [yellow paper] papermaking technology, which uses pulp for mass production, with the private sector. Of course, it wasn’t free. He made a good profit from technology usage fees and sales of papermaking machines.

The pulp papermaking technology released to the private sector in this way led to mass distribution and polarization of paper.

Hanji (韓紙) [traditional Korean paper], made with traditional papermaking methods, was sold as a luxury item, while Hwangji and bleached Hwangji took their place as low-priced items.

With reasonable quality and low prices, Hwangji and Baekji [white paper] soon began to gradually dominate the paper markets of Ming [China] and Waeguk [Japan].

In the end, after several rounds of debate, Sejong accepted spacing.

“There are more advantages than disadvantages, and it’s especially useful for understanding sentences, so it would be good to use it.”

* * *

After adopting spacing, Sejong and Hyang had another debate over the issue of horizontal and vertical writing.

“If we use a gold pen, there’s no problem with left-to-right horizontal writing (左橫書). However, this is only the case with a gold pen. When writing with a brush, left-to-right horizontal writing is very inconvenient. For the easiest example, what will happen if the ink flows down when you dip the brush in ink from the inkstone and move it to the paper? And we’ve been writing right-to-left vertical writing (右縱書) until now, so there will be a lot of resistance if we switch to left-to-right horizontal writing.”

Hyang nodded at Sejong’s point.

“That’s right. However, left-to-right horizontal writing makes many things easier. For the easiest example, if you look at the reports prepared by the government, there are many tables, formulas, and function diagrams (函數圖, graphs). It’s much more useful to use them when writing left-to-right horizontally. Of course, as Father said, if we force the government and the people to use left-to-right horizontal writing right now, there will be a lot of resistance. We can start by having the government use left-to-right horizontal writing for the documents they will be preparing in the future.”

“Still, there will be quite a bit of resistance. Do you have any good strategies or instruments to appease them?”

At Sejong’s question, Hyang’s expression became subtle for a moment.

“Why do you have that expression?”

At Sejong’s question, Hyang quickly composed himself and answered.

“Ah, no. I just thought of an instrument.”

Sejong’s eyes twinkled at Hyang’s words.

“Really? What is it?”

“It’s called a typewriter.”

Sejong liked it very much after hearing the explanation from Hyang.

“If it’s made properly, it will be very useful! Especially for those with bad handwriting (惡筆) [ugly handwriting]!”

Sejong liked the typewriter very much. He had a headache every time reports or memorials written in bad handwriting came up.

* * *

Thanks to the hidden card called the typewriter, left-to-right horizontal writing was easily accepted.

The last thing left was what to call this newly created script.

“Does Father have a name in mind?”

“At first, I thought of ‘Easy Letters’ (易字), meaning ‘easy script,’ but I discarded it because it was thought to be the character for change (易), which could lead to seditious talk. So now I want to call it ‘Correct Sounds’ (正音). Because the people can record their words correctly.”

Hyang, nodding at Sejong’s words, opened his mouth.

“How about adding ‘Instructing the People’ (訓民) to it? Because the people can correctly understand Father’s will.”

“Instructing the People… Hunminjeongeum…”

Sejong repeated it several times and soon nodded.

“Good.”

* * *

Note 1) https://namu.wiki/w/훈민정음의 치두음과 정치음