King of Commerce, Yeonsan-gun Ch.51

Hobby Work

 Gyeongsik may seem like just an economist breaking the Confucian scholars’ skulls with his economic theories, but he is also a history enthusiast who entered the history department out of his love for history.

The palace where he now lived was a quintessential example of early Joseon palace architecture, the Chinese laws he often referenced were original texts, and many Joseon customs from the early period, which would later be eliminated by Neo-Confucian orthodoxy, still survived.

For historians, it was a treasure trove of historical materials and research subjects spread out before their eyes.

To Gyeongsik, every moment living in Joseon was a hobby and a fascinating research subject.

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"Oh, they say you're the best at the Dohwaseo. This is very lifelike."

Right now, Gyeongsik was involved in the production of a royal portrait.

It was fascinating to see the portraits of past kings preserved in the Jinjeon (the shrine where royal portraits are enshrined).

Since it had not been long since the founding of Joseon, nearly all the royal portraits were still intact.

'Oh, this is Taejong Yi Bang-won... King Sejong really was fat. And there's Munjong, Yejong, and Seongjong... Of these, only the portraits of Taejo and Sejo survive into the 21st century.'

Despite being the early Joseon period, it seemed the management system wasn't well established.

Seeing the portrait of Taejo, it was evident that while it still existed, it was quite worn, faded, and decayed.

Gyeongsik urged his officials to devise a way to preserve and maintain these portraits permanently.

The officials were bewildered by this strange command.

How could one possibly preserve a painting on paper forever? There was no more absurd royal command.

But in a Confucian state like Joseon, where the ultimate order to respect ancestors was in place, there was no way to oppose such a decree.

"Why not have the royal portraits redone every 20 years and enshrine them in the Jinjeon?"

"Appoint an officer to manage the royal portraits, and have all the worn ones redone. However, even land surveys required by law every 20 years aren't always done, so I'm not sure if this will be upheld permanently."

Although Gyeongsik had rapidly expanded Joseon's finances and administration, much of it still operated in a traditional manner.

Gyeongsik himself did not expect to advance to a modern level during his lifetime.

So, he was certain that rules like 'every 20 years' would not be followed. In a country that didn’t even conduct land surveys to collect taxes regularly, how could they be expected to refresh royal portraits every 20 years?

The king proposed another idea.

"How about we engrave the royal portraits on plates and print them using the printing press I've made, then enshrine these prints in the government offices of each county?"

In each local government office, there was usually a wooden plaque symbolizing the king. The idea was to replace it with a print of the king's portrait.

It might resemble the way North Korea displayed pictures of their leader in public offices, but in an absolute monarchy, the phenomenon was similar. The intention was not propaganda, but to ensure that at least one or two prints would survive even centuries later.

Officials objected.

"Currently, the royal plaques are strictly managed, and any loss is treated as a major crime. We cannot entrust the royal portraits to small counties and expect them to manage them properly."

The idea of entrusting royal portraits to small local offices was dismissed as impractical.

Recognizing the validity of this concern, Gyeongsik devised another solution.

He borrowed an idea used by Western monarchs to make their faces known: gold coins.

The king had his portrait drawn by the Dohwaseo and then ordered the ironworkers at the Jujaso (mint) to make the rest.

Gyeongsik was pleased with the gold plates bearing his portrait.

"In three years, the skills of the Jujaso workers have improved significantly. This is good enough to print illustrated books now."

Gutenberg is better known for his printing technology, but he was originally a goldsmith who learned coin minting from his father.

The technology used to create type for the Gutenberg press was derived from the techniques used to mint coins.

The method involved striking a punch with raised letters into a copper plate, then placing a mold over the plate and pouring molten lead to create type. This allowed for much more precise type than the traditional sand casting method used in Korea and Joseon.

Gyeongsik, after a rushed start in his first year using existing metal type and oil-based ink with a press, began researching Gutenberg-style type from the second year.

Conversely, he used these techniques to reproduce the Western method of minting gold coins.

He had a punch with his portrait made and struck it into gold plates to create 'golden portraits.'

These were not intended for circulation like coins but rather as commemorative medallions to be preserved.

"Enshrine these golden portraits in the royal shrines and the Jinjeon of each region."

While Gyeongsik was undertaking this extravagant act of filial piety, there were some absurd objections about it being overly luxurious or resembling the creation of Buddhist statues.

Naturally, those individuals were sent to the naval training base on Ganghwa Island.

Gyeongsik couldn’t understand why Joseon neglected its navy when it could be so beneficial.

---

The early Joseon period held many other treasures beyond royal portraits.

"You say the Zhizheng Tiaoge (至正條格) was in the Hongmungwan?"

"Yes, it was referenced during King Sejong's reign when implementing the Jeohwa law."

The Zhizheng Tiaoge, a legal code from the Yuan Dynasty, is more famously known to Koreans for being found behind a ramen box.

The only surviving original text of Yuan Dynasty law worldwide, it was almost discarded before being miraculously discovered.

It has since been designated as a treasure and even viewed by the President of Mongolia during a visit.

Gyeongsik, who had practically invented the currency system without referring to failed past attempts like the Jeohwa law, hadn’t known this, but the code was referenced frequently until King Seongjong's reign.

After that, as Joseon completed the Gyeongguk Daejeon, the Zhizheng Tiaoge was no longer referenced and eventually lost.

However, while organizing textbooks for the local schools, it caught Gyeongsik’s eye during the compilation of legal textbooks.

"We must not neglect ancient laws. Have the Hongmungwan annotate and translate the Zhizheng Tiaoge, and print it to distribute to the local schools and academies."

The officials were puzzled by the king, who had always been dismissive of ancient laws, suddenly showing such interest.

"Is there a need to distribute Yuan laws when we already have the Gyeongguk Daejeon and use the Daemyeongryul?"

"I have my reasons. Hongmungwan must proceed without delay!"

Thanks to Gyeongsik’s hobby, the Hongmungwan had no time to rest.

"Wait, we're not done with the Sohak Eonhae, Seongjong Annals, and the Gyeongsejibyak, and now we have to annotate and translate the Zhizheng Tiaoge?"

"Is there anyone well-versed in the Zhizheng Tiaoge?"

"The Lord of Papyeong is knowledgeable, but he is currently serving as the Banyeowimusa commander."

"How about Jeong Hee-ryang of the Yemun-gwan? He is exceptionally talented in literature. It might be good to assign him to the Hongmungwan!"

But that wasn’t all. Gyeongsik’s attention also fell on the Gyeongbokgung Joseong Uigwe, the construction records of early Joseon.

Most of these early Joseon records were destroyed in the Japanese invasions of the late 16th century. Despite building four outer archives for safekeeping, they were all lost.

Gyeongsik ordered that the old records be annotated, illustrated, printed, and distributed nationwide.

"Build more outer archives! One in Ganghwa, one in Hamheung, one in Pyeongyang! Enshrine the printing plates there as well, and record the method of storing books and plates from the monks at Haeinsa who built the Janggyeong Panjeon!"

For his hobby, Gyeongsik was making commands like a miniature Emperor Qin, building not tombs and walls but libraries. In a scholarly nation like Joseon, the importance of such repositories could not be denied, so no one could oppose him.

The Hongmungwan was already overwhelmed with tasks.

They were compiling textbooks for the new education system, annotating and translating agricultural texts, arithmetic, law, Confucian classics, military texts, and more. Every time Gyeongsik found an intriguing book, it added to their workload.

The king had crippled the Hongmungwan's role as a platform for political debate by abolishing the Censorate at the beginning of his reign, but they now found themselves busier than ever with educational reforms, new textbooks, and the king’s numerous book projects.

Consequently, the Hongmungwan became a hotbed of complaints about the king.

"The king is skilled in statecraft, but he seems uninterested in scholarly pursuits. Why are we working so hard?"

To the scholars of Joseon, scholarship meant Confucianism. A king who showed interest in everything but Confucian studies was an enigma.

"Actually, if you think about it, both King Sejong and King Sejo were deeply interested in diverse fields. Perhaps King Seongjong was the anomaly."

Comparing Gyeongsik to King Sejong or King Sejo made sense.

Gyeongsik’s policies could be seen as continuing and developing the initiatives of King Sejong and King Sejo.

Expanding northern territories? King Sejong did it.

Conquering Tsushima? King Sejong did it.

Establishing relations with the Ryukyu Kingdom? King Sejo did it.

Publishing annotated and translated texts, compiling encyclopedic works, and creating new printing methods were all legacies of Kings Sejong and Sejo.

Until now, Gyeongsik’s achievements could be seen as merely a lower-tier version of King Sejong, having not yet created a new script. He did surpass King Sejo by expanding territories.

Gyeongsik frequently invoked the names of Kings Taejong, Sejong, and Sejo, portraying himself as a king continuing the legacy of his ancestors.

Thus, his hobby as a historian also served to enhance his predecessors' legacies, making it an ideal environment for him.

---

The loss of early Joseon’s cultural heritage included more than just official records.

Due to a lack of interest in technology, many civilian skills were not documented, and subsequently, these skills vanished without being passed down.

Gyeongsik decided to record these skills as well.

Economically, this was crucial.

"Have the tile makers from the Waseo finished comparing the methods of firing green-glazed roof tiles?"

"Yes, seven tile makers from around the country provided their methods, and four were similar enough that we cannot determine who should receive the Gumnangwon (special rights akin to modern patents)."

The most regrettable loss of early Joseon civilian skills was the method of making green-glazed roof tiles.

It wasn't a personal preference but sparked by a report from a temple that had newly installed green-glazed roof tiles. Hearing the complaint from Confucian scholars, Gyeongsik became curious.

After introducing the Swiss method of producing saltpeter in public restrooms, he had ordered local governments to build public restrooms and produce saltpeter to supplement their budgets. Before long, saltpeter became available to the public.

Seeing the expanding market economy starting from last year, tile makers had begun producing and selling green-glazed roof tiles.

"Green-glazed roof tiles should be used only for the main halls of the palace. How can they be used in temples? Tear them down!"

"Hmm... No, there's a better way."

The method of making green-glazed roof tiles was lost in the mid-Joseon period and again in the 20th century, resulting in the technique nearly disappearing several times. Tile makers kept the method a closely guarded secret.

There’s a Korean proverb about "the man who makes green-glazed tiles," referring to someone who keeps a profitable secret to themselves.

The tile makers had good reasons for their secrecy. Green-glazed roof tiles could cost as much as an entire room at their peak price.

Revealing the method would result in widespread production and loss of profit.

Despite persuasion, the tile makers refused to disclose their methods.

Gyeongsik had prepared for this. He introduced the concept of patents.

Patents might have been unfamiliar to Joseon people, but Gyeongsik skillfully adapted existing systems.

Most Koreans would have heard of the “Gumnangjeongwon” (禁亂展權), which granted exclusive rights to guilds to enforce market regulations.

Western patents also began by granting exclusive rights to certain merchants or guilds to regulate their trade.

In Gyeongsik’s Joseon, patents were called Gumnangwon.

Without obtaining Gumnangwon, anyone making and selling green-glazed roof tiles would be seen as infringing on the rights of the Gumnangwon holder, who could sue for a portion of the sales or seek an injunction.

To receive Gumnangwon, the technique had to be recorded and submitted to the state.

The essence of modern patents lies in this. Before the patent system, valuable techniques were often lost as they were passed down secretly and could disappear with time.

By recognizing technology as property, patents allowed the state to record and manage these techniques in exchange for granting exclusive rights.

This system is considered a catalyst for the rapid development of technology in the West.

However, simply establishing a patent system didn't mean people would rush to disclose their secrets to the state.

Even in the West, the patent system was created in Venice in the 15th century and spread to other European countries in the 16th century, but not everyone patented their secret techniques.

The same was true in Joseon. Despite the benefits of Gumnangwon, tile makers could still make a lot of money by keeping their methods secret.

So, it was essential to ensure that breaking the law resulted in definite losses.

"Why are officials here again?"

"They're probably going to talk about that Gumnangwon thing again. I told them no."

In Gamakgol, Gangjin, known for its green-glazed tiles, officials had already approached these tile makers several months ago to encourage them to disclose their methods in exchange for Gumnangwon, but they refused.

Now, under the Gumnangwon law, they were no longer protected but targeted for enforcement.

"The tile makers of Gamakgol, Gangjin, listen up! The state has received a complaint that your method of making green-glazed tiles is identical to that of tile makers in Gaeseong. You must come to the court to defend your case."

The tile makers were bewildered.

"Who is making such a ridiculous claim? We've never even been to Gaeseong."

"You may not have been there, but the Gaeseong tile makers have identified your tiles as identical to theirs."

Rural folks being swindled was not exclusive to the capital.

Since the Goryeo period, Gaeseong had been a major commercial city, and with the new system supported by the current king, they began to take advantage of rural folks.

The absurd case reached the Ministry of Justice and the State Council, who recommended the king dismiss it as nonsense, but the king insisted.

"The law states that if the technique can be proven the same, Gumnang can be applied nationwide. We cannot change that now."

Instead, he ordered both the Gaeseong and Gangjin tile makers to demonstrate their methods in Seoul to determine if they were indeed the same.

"Making the shape of the tiles is the same; doesn't that mean it's the same method?"

"The method of making the glaze is different, so how can it be the same? Making the tile shape is similar everywhere!"

With such disputes happening simultaneously in four places, the Ministry of Justice, having no knowledge of tile making, was overwhelmed.

Gyeongsik had a solution. He organized the best tile makers from each kiln into an association to act as technical assessors in patent disputes.

The selected assessors opted for compromise instead of continued conflict.

Like any cartel, they found subtle differences in what seemed like identical techniques, agreeing amicably to recognize them as different, allowing each kiln to hold a separate patent.

Thus, the often-lost technique of making green-glazed roof tiles was recorded as Joseon's first patent.

With the technique recorded and preserved, it was time to address the issue of excessive Buddhist extravagance.

Instead of bluntly suppressing it as in the past, Gyeongsik used the increased administrative power of Joseon’s cities.

He imposed a consumption tax.

Although it resulted in some dead-weight loss, taxes were more about politics than economics.

Suppressing extravagance and funding the state was more crucial than the welfare gain from selling green-glazed tiles.

"What? The tax is 30,000 jeon for selling 3,000 green-glazed tiles?!"

"A 10-jeon tax per tile?! What is this nonsense?!"

Facing a nearly 100% tax, the tile makers were in shock.

Typically, such heavy taxes would lead to a black market. Already, merchants involved in missions to China had found ways to smuggle goods in response to the 200% tax on gold and silver.

But tiles were hard to smuggle, so the green-glazed tiles were the first target for the consumption tax.

While gold and silver could be hidden, tiles had to be installed on buildings, making them easy to track.

Naturally, the cost was passed on to consumers, primarily the large temples that had been installing the tiles.

Temple construction projects funded by donations from noble families and royal relatives were halted.

This was pleasing to the scholars and the king.

"Temples have green-glazed tiles, but the palace's main hall and Jongmyo do not. With the tax revenue from the kilns, we can finally install green-glazed tiles on the palace and Jongmyo."

Tile makers had no choice but to sell to the state.

Selling to the state exempted them from consumption and transaction taxes, and they received tax benefits proportional to the consumption tax rate of their goods.

With a 100% consumption tax on green-glazed tiles, selling half to the market and half to the government meant no taxes for the tile makers.

Thus, whether they were supplying the state or voluntarily registering with it, merchants and artisans competed to sell to the government first.

"Continue to organize industrial associations for other goods, and have the Ministry of Taxation's Patent Office record and manage their skills."

The Ministry of Taxation and the Price Bureau marveled at the young king’s economic policies. Even when they didn’t fully understand his reasoning, they knew it was essential to follow his orders.

They memorized his instructions, ready to impose tax bombs on any troublesome individuals.

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Notes:

1. Gyeongsik introduced the Swiss method of producing saltpeter in the 31st chapter, "Summer in Seoul." Although many local counties still operate under traditional methods due to central budget and manpower limitations, Gyeongsik’s Joseon remains innovative in finding ways to supplement local budgets.

2. Green-glazed roof tiles were used in the original Gyeongguk Daejeon, with some tiles reportedly fired in Gangjin in the 8th year of King Yejong. This suggests the tiles were a long-standing element of Joseon architecture, sometimes repurposed from demolished temples. In the fictional account, Gyeongsik’s methods echo similar tactics used by King Yeonsan, employing refined approaches to regulate extravagant consumption while preserving valuable cultural techniques.