Gyeonghoeru Pavilion at Gyeongbok Palace. A photograph taken by Percival Lowell in early 1884. Robert Neff Collection

In late 19th century, weather was often a catalyst for political unrest in Korea. Perhaps one of the most infamous examples was in the summer of 1882 when the Korean peninsula was on the precipice of change. The country was suffering from severe drought, the wells were dry and the crops were failing. Since early spring, sacrifices were made at the main city shrines and along the Han River beseeching gods for rain. Food became scarce and prices rose and thefts and robberies became widespread. Whispers amongst the superstitious claimed the kingdom's woes were signs of the gods' displeasure that foreigners were being allowed to enter the country.

In July, the unrest eventually evolved into a general revolt targeting corrupt government officials and the small Japanese community. A large Korean mob – armed with stones, muskets, spears and bows and arrows and spears – attacked the Japanese legation, and, surprisingly, it immediately began to rain. It started out as a light drizzle but soon developed into a driving rain – further strengthening the belief amongst the superstitious rioters that the gods were aligned with their efforts to remove the foreigners from Korean soil. Blood and rain transformed the once parched land into a muddy mire.

The revolt was soon crushed and the leaders executed. The uneasy peace was threatened a year later on the anniversary of the attack on the Japanese legation. Whispered in the streets of Seoul was a tale of vengeance that was to be orchestrated by the Japanese for the previous year. According to the rumors, a number of Koreans were to be sacrificed to appease the restless spirts of the murdered Japanese. There were other dark rumors circulating – including a tale that blood was to be harvested from unmarried Korean women and children so that medicines could be made. According to one account, this so alarmed the population that young maidens were quickly married while others fled to the mountains.

Gyeonghoeru Pavilion in the early 20th century. Robert Neff Collection

The final rumor centered on the lack of rain. Once again, the superstitious blamed it upon Japanese. "The music played at the Japanese Legation [had] effectually dispersed the wind and driven away the rain" and the Japanese flag flying from its tall flagstaff angered the rain gods. Fortunately these rumors were just that – rumors. However, there were other violent incidents that occurred because of the lack of rain.

In the late 1890s, many people blamed the streetcars for the lack of rain. They reasoned that the streetcars' tracks ran over the back of the dragon sleeping beneath the city, infuriating him and causing him to deny the city rain. Others claimed the electric wires disrupted nature — especially the clouds, which were sucked up leaving the city to suffer from long droughts. A number of streetcars were destroyed; not because of the lack of rain but because of the lack of safety awareness.

When the rain didn't come, the people often appealed to the gods. In an effort to be inoffensive, during droughts they refrained from using fans and parasols to combat the heat as these were believed to insult the gods by blocking the rain and chasing away the clouds. The butchering of animals was also postponed - presumably because the animals' suffering would displease the spirits – but, conversely, animals were part of the sacrifices made to the gods.

Mangwonjeong in Seoul in June 2021 – and, of course, it rained shortly after I left the pavilion. Robert Neff Collection

In the summer of 1901, The Korea Review, an English-language magazine published in Seoul reported:

"Sacrifices are being offered all over the country for the purpose of bringing rain. Several bags of nickels and a number of pigs were thrown into the Han River for this same purpose. His Majesty has been assured by the high officials of the land that there will be no scarcity but one of them has privately informed him of the desperate conditions of things. As yet His Majesty has not sacrificed in person."

Gyeonghoeru Pavilion at Gyeongbok Palace was one of the locations where the Korean monarch beseeched the spirits to bless the land with rain. During King Taejong's reign, one of the rain rituals involved children and salamanders. According to Prof. Shin Myung-ho's book Joseon Royal Court Culture (translated by Timothy V. Atkinson):

"The Lizard Pray-for-rain Rite entailed filling earthenware jars with large salamanders and having children strike the jars with sticks while chanting in unison that the beating will stop if rain starts to fall. The salamanders (water lizards) were believed to be dragons that could cause rainstorms. Such measures taken at the palace demonstrate how dire the situation could become to people who had to subsist on the crops they raised."

Mangwonjeong in July 2019. Robert Neff Collection

Even after three days of prayer and sacrifice, the rain failed to come. According to another account, boys in the southwestern part of the peninsula fashioned "dragons" out of straw and then beat them until they spit out rain clouds. It is unknown if they enjoyed any more success than the boys at the palace.

Pigs and salamanders were not the only animals involved. Some believed that divination of the weather could be made by observing a dog; if a dog was seen eating grass, it was an omen of terrible drought." If the drought did occur, rain could be summoned by throwing a dog's blood or its severed head into a body of fresh water. The belief was the spirits protecting the water would summon rain to wash away the blood and head. Sometimes pigs, instead of dogs, were used and their blood or urine was cast into the water.

Human urine was also used. According to Kim Yongjo, Director of Purenunsol People Culture Research Institute, in some villages the women would climb a nearby mountain and urinate together in hopes of provoking the gods to release a torrent of rain to remove their waste.

Sometimes, rituals and sacrifices were not required and just the king's presence was enough to persuade the clouds to release their life-saving moisture. Such was the case when King Sejong visited Mangwonjeon in the summer of 1425. For some time the region had suffered a lack of rain and, according to legend, as soon as he arrived, it began to rain. Delighted, he named the pavilion Huiujeong, meaning "a pavilion meeting a delightful rain."

However, it was his father, King Taejong, who is associated with rain. Taejong frequently made sacrifices for rain and even on his deathbed, while the kingdom was suffering from a severe drought, he swore that when he died he would go and ask Heaven to send rain. According to legend, on the very day he died (the tenth day of the fifth moon of 1422 – lunar calendar) it began to rain. In fact, it rained so hard that ten days later, the records state the rice crop was damaged by flooding.

Henceforth, this day became known as the Day of Taejong's Rain. An examination of diaries, correspondences and various diplomatic and naval records from 1883 through 1902 reveals it generally rained on this day in the Seoul/Incheon area. This year, the tenth day of the fifth moon is June 15, and, unsurprisingly, rain is in the forecast.

Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books, including Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.