You have now stepped up into the pavilion.

Before we continue, take a moment to look out through the windows.

Two plaques bearing different names hang on this pavilion.

Bochunjeong.
“Pavilion Heralding Spring.”

And Huiuru.
“Pavilion of Joyful Rain.”

The name Huiuru carries with it a story from the reign of King Jeongjo.

In 1777, around the time the pavilion at Seongjeonggak was being rebuilt, a drought persisted.

When rain fell as construction began, officials suggested giving the pavilion the name Huiu, meaning “Joyful Rain.”

King Jeongjo declined.
There had not yet been enough rain.
The drought continued.

Then, around the time the pavilion was completed, abundant rain finally fell.

Only then did Jeongjo give the building the name Huiuru.

He later recorded the story himself in an essay titled Huiuruji, or “Record of Huiuru.”

Why should a king take such joy in rain?

In an age when agriculture formed the basis of everyday life, rain after a long drought meant that crops could grow.

And if crops could grow,
the people could make it through the year.

Now look once more at the two names together.

Bochunjeong, heralding the arrival of spring.

Huiuru, rejoicing at the rain.

This exhibition invites you to consider the two names side by side.

The crown prince was traditionally likened to spring.

He was the person preparing for the era yet to come.

And when he eventually became king, the lives of the people would have to be his foremost concern.

His education was never intended for his own benefit alone.

The lessons repeated each day at Seongjeonggak would one day need to become judgments that took account of the lives of others.

As you look at these two plaques, consider for a moment what the education for kingship, begun in Seongjeonggak just beside you, was ultimately meant to serve.