Theft in Joseon: Part 2

A Korean noble going through the streets of Seoul in the late 19th or early 20th century. Robert Neff Collection

By Robert Neff

• Published Dec 31, 2023 12:41 PM KST
• Updated Dec 31, 2023 4:20 PM KST

They say that time is the most precious thing in life – far more valuable than money or luxury goods. People often freely (and sometimes, grudgingly) give and receive it between friends and family, but would you be willing to steal it from strangers?

In July 1884, Ensign George C. Foulk, a naval officer attached to the American legation in Seoul, had a very hard time keeping his goods safe – even within the legation’s walled compound.

On the night of July 14, Foulk returned to his room and discovered his gold watch and chain were missing. He was convinced the thief was a visiting Korean official’s servant. Just earlier that evening, Min Yong-ik had paid a brief visit to the legation while on his way home from a dinner. According to Foulk:

“As is usual with Korean officers, a large crowd of Min’s servants were with him, these men hold the officer on his horse, or carry his chair, umbrella, chamber-pot in a leather bag, smoking utensil, seals, etc. While Min was in my house all these devils were hanging about the door and windows.”

When Foulk discovered his watch was missing, he notified “Min Yong Ik and the whole government.” However, it wasn’t the only theft. Five days later, his revolver was stolen from one of his trunks, and, perhaps even more alarming, the guest house was rifled and furniture and fixtures were taken. It seems that almost every other night there was a break-in – and the thieves were stealing everything, including the gate bell.

The Korean government provided the legation with a guard of soldiers, but Foulk declared them to be “worse than useless, as they, too, would rob as quickly as anyone else.” The handful of Americans at the legation took it upon themselves to establish their own night patrol and Foulk expressed the great desire to shoot an intruder as a fatal example for any other would-be thieves.

The loss of his service revolver was only a minor inconvenience as it “belonged to Uncle Sam, to whom [Foulk would] report its loss being in the execution of duty.” His personal goods, however, which amounted to about $125, was his own responsibility.

Perhaps the greatest loss to him was his watch. Shortly after its loss, he wrote to his parents: “I must have a watch here, so the loss falls all the harder on me, and still harder as the Lancaster watch was the very best time keeper I have ever seen.”

A month later, he wrote:

“I have heard nothing of the fate of my watch. Its loss was a sorry one to me both as to value in money and the high opinion I had of it. I have had to buy a new watch costing $65 as I cannot get along without one in my duty.”

Although he was probably unaware of it, shortly after the loss of his watch, the Lancaster Watch Company went bankrupt after only 5 years of operation. A quick perusal of the company’s catalog reveals that the cheapest nickel plated watch sold for $24 and the highest priced was $100. We don’t know where Foulk obtained his replacement watch, but it does not challenge the imagination to assume he purchased it from Walter D. Townsend, the representative of “The American Clock & Brass Company,” who just happened to be in Korea at the time.

Foulk and the American legation were fortunate; their intruders did nothing more than steal, but other victims were not so lucky.

On the night of June 2/3, 1889, a Chinese shop in Seoul was attacked. The proprietor was stabbed to death and the shop robbed of gold and silver valuables and a large number of watches. The total value was about $7,000. Once the shop was looted, it was set on fire presumably to destroy any evidence that might lead the Chinese and Korean authorities to the perpetrators.

A newspaper in China soon reported:

“Tick, Hing & Co. are the agents of the China Merchants Steam Navigation Co. in Corea. Much sympathy is felt for them. They had many friends, owing to their universal courtesy and strict integrity. Whether Coreans or destitute Chefoo Chinamen did it is not yet known. But robbery of money and valuables seem to have been the object. Messrs. Tick, Hing & Co. were not insured, and their loss must be very serious.”

Not long afterwards, the company and the Chinese Legation in Seoul offered a reward of 1,000 dollars for the arrest of the criminals. It isn’t clear if anyone ever collected that reward.

It seems somewhat ironic, but in May 1896, Townsend, whom we mentioned earlier and was now living in Jemulpo [modern Incheon] and running his own company, was a victim of a time-stealing thief. Someone broke into Townsend’s home and stole “a clock, three revolvers and some articles of clothing.” He was convinced that the thief would eventually try and sell the goods to a foreigner so he put an ad in the local newspaper offering a reward of $20. There was a sense of optimism that the culprit would soon be tracked down and arrested.

Americans weren’t the only ones suffering from thefts. In September of the same year, Dr. Oliver Avison, a Canadian, had several valuable articles, including a gold watch, dress goods and blankets stolen from his summer house on the Han River. According to a newspaper report: “The detectives have been sent to work at the case and the Police Dept. is confident of catching the culprits before many days.”

The police may have been confident but weren’t very timely when it came to thefts and robberies.

On January 31, 1897, a Japanese man traveling from Jemulpo to Seoul was attacked near the rest stop (about half-way between the port and the capital) by a band of twenty highwaymen from Whanghai province. The merchant was badly abused by his robbers, but was saved when people at the rest stop heard his cries for help and came to his rescue. The victim lost his watch, blankets and some $30 in cash.

This area appears to have been a popular site for violent robberies. In early December 1899, another Japanese man – this time an employee for the railroad – was murdered by a fellow employee. The victim had been savagely attacked - suffering wounds to his face and back – and it was believed robbery was the motive as his watch and chain and his wages (about $30) were stolen. The murderer was quickly apprehended.

Even in the capital, the police were not safe from robberies. In late June 1897, a police sergeant named Kang Chong-wo was attacked on the street of Seoul by “a highwayman” and relieved of his watch, pocketbook and even his clothes. The newspaper stated the obvious – “The thieves are getting bold now a days.”

Pak Chun-son was quite the cat burglar of his time. First he broke into Myoungdong Cathedral and stole a barometer, then he went to one of the schools in Jeongdong and stole a clock. But time ran out for him in early September 1897 when he entered the German consulate and tried to steal a gun. The consulate’s employees apprehended the thief and turned him over to the police. The items were later recovered.

Gyeonghuigung, known as the “Palace of Serene Harmony” was anything but serene in the late 19th century. It was commonly known by Westerners as “The Mulberry Palace” (due to the large number of mulberry trees that had been planted on its grounds in the early 1880s) and widely believed to be dangerous – not only because of the ghosts and demons who were supposed to haunt its abandoned halls, but also because of the real threat of tigers and leopards that prowled it at night. It was a place where you could lose your life and, in early November 1897, your watch.

According to a newspaper account, a Western woman went for a walk on the palace grounds and was accosted by a Korean boy [probably a young man or laborer and not a child] who asked her the time of day. She took out her gold watch and showed the dials to the boy. He snatched the watch from her hand and made his escape through the opening of the palace wall.”

A 30 dollar reward was offered but it is not clear if the watch was ever recovered. An American resident in Jemulpo suggested: “The prevalence of this kind of sneak thieving is worthy of note. It is not a Korean [thief’s] trick to grab things from a pedestrian and it has been learned probably from foreigners.”

There were other ways to steal time. According to a newspaper account in August 1897:

“The city Government keeps two men at the bell house in [Jongno], whose duty is to strike the bell at noon and midnight for the benefit of the people. Lately these men became drunk and did not attend to their duties at the proper hours. A few nights ago one of them struck 12 o´clock at half past four in the morning. The Governor of the city discharged both of them and appointed two new men. We have been assured by the city authority that the new appointees do not touch a drop of whiskey or any other beverage of similar nature which makes one forget the weary hours of the summer days. (Or rather nights in this case). It may be so.”

While the bell’s sound was for the benefit of the people, things were changing:

In June 1898, The Korean Repository reported “the clear sweet tones of the beautiful bell in the new Roman Catholic cathedral are among the pleasant sounds heard in Seoul now.” It acknowledged that “the Korean bell at Jongno while not less sweet in tone has the great disadvantage of inferior location.”

Jongno’s bell was an iconic part of Westerners’ descriptions of life in Seoul in the 19th century, but by the late 1890s, its time of importance was seemingly coming to an end. The establishment of streetcars contributed to the abolishment of the nightly curfew and the closing of the city gates. Clocks and watches were everywhere and visages of the past were fading with each passing moment.

Fortunately, the bell was not lost with the passage of time and even now retains its glory. If you get a chance tonight, visit Bosingak (at Jonggak station) and listen to the hauntingly beautiful sound as this relic from Joseon rings in the New Year.

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