Voices of the past: Seoul in spring

A postcard of Changgyeong Palace during the 1910-45 Japanese occupation, with visitors admiring the cherry blossoms / Robert Neff Collection

April is arguably one of the best months to visit Seoul — not only because of the mild temperatures, but because the city and surrounding mountains become breathtaking mosaics of fragrant pink, white and lavender blossoms from cherry and lilac trees. Unsurprisingly, these displays of natural beauty have become popular backdrops for social media posts by families, young lovers and tourists.

Foreigners have long been enchanted by April’s splendor in Seoul.

In April 1884, a group of U.S. naval officers traveled overland from Jemulpo (part of modern Incheon) to Seoul and visited the American Legation. In his journal, George W. Woods, a naval surgeon, noted upon entering the city, “almost everyone [they encountered in the streets was] carrying little twigs of plum and cherry, thick with pale pink blossoms — many of them large and double.”

A postcard sent in May 1948 by Father Charles Hunt, a prominent member of Royal Asiatic Society, Korea. He died in 1950 as a North Korean prisoner. Robert Neff Collection

When they arrived at the legation, they were struck by the recent renovations, including the new garden.

“The whole place looks very pretty,” observed Woods. “The quaint little buildings are all touched up ‘brightly,’ the paths and stone walk are in good order, the spring violets and azaleas, with other early flowers, are in bloom, and the peach, plum, and apricot trees are heavy with blossoms.”

While visiting Lucius Foote, the American minister, and his wife Rose, an invitation arrived from the palace. It was written “on parchment paper in the Corean alphabet” and was, according to Woods, “in quite perfect style.” Rose was invited to view “the palace gardens in all their glory of spring blossoms.”

In late April 1888, Col. Charles Chaille-Long, secretary of the American Legation, received an invitation from Jo Byeong-sik, the Korean minister of foreign affairs. It read:

“The red is turning pale, the green is growing fat, and the pleasant color of the springtime has come. It is the season of joy! Will you not, then, give me the pleasure to join me and my friends in the feast of good things which I have prepared for noon of the 1st of May?”

A postcard of Changgyeong Palace during the 1910-45 Japanese occupation / Robert Neff Collection

The colonel was honored by the request, but somewhat baffled by the phrase, “The red is turning pale and the green is growing fat.” He asked his interpreter, who patiently explained “that in Korea the flowers always bloom before the leaves have budded.” Like the colonel, I was initially unaware of the meaning until I came across “Nok-bi-hong-su” — a poetic expression describing the change of seasons, when the flowers of spring surrender to the deep green of summer.

Elizabeth Greathouse, whose son was an adviser to the Joseon government, was extremely faithful to her diary and made almost daily entries. These entries were generally warm and descriptive, but always tinged with a touch of negativism. In April 1891, she wrote:

“A lovely spring morning. Now at half past seven I am writing on my nice Japanese desk by the window where I can see and hear a little company of singing birds, a lovely view, which I shall enjoy all summer if I live, some few flowers are in the yard, but in a while many more will be in full bloom, and the grass will be green.”

A postcard of Mount Bukhan viewed from Ui-dong (Ox-ear Village) in 1910 / Robert Neff Collection

Sally Sill, the wife of John Sill, the American minister to Korea, was enchanted with Korea’s natural beauty and frequently described it in her letters home. In a letter to her daughter in April 1896, she wrote:

“The wild flowers in Korea are truly wonderfully beautiful, just now the mountains are covered with pink and white azaleas. They seem to grow out of the very rocks. The trees are loaded with cherry blossoms and it is delightful to be in the country.”

Years later, Lillias Underwood, an American missionary and former physician to the Korean queen, echoed Sill’s sentiment when she wrote:

“In April and May Korea is glorious. All the environs of Seoul are sweet with the exquisite fruit blossoms, peaches, apricots, plums, cherries and pears.”

Horace N. Allen, who replaced Sill, also wrote extensively about flowers but especially about the legation’s garden. He seemed to take great pride in it, even implying it was his own accomplishment when, in fact, it was Sill who deserved the credit.

In the first week of May 1900, he wrote:

“I have been having a lazy time lying out under the trees, smoking my morning cigar. It is a nice warm bright spring morning and our compound is one mass of loveliness. Mabel (Allen’s niece) says when she comes through our front gate it is like entering a new country. We have had a perfect mass of beautiful azaleas, yellow jasmines, lilies, peach, cherry, pear and apple blossoms, and the trees I planted are now fully twenty feet high and a beautiful mass of green. I have trimmed them to the top of the eight foot wall all around, and they make it three acres of delightful seclusion. I have put up a new folding door inside of the front gate to shield the gate (illegible) and servants, as well as the sightseers, from the view of the compound.”

Allen wasn’t the only one who seemed intent on depriving others of the beauty of their gardens. In May 1898, Sallie Swallen, an American missionary, described her garden in Wonsan, in present-day North Korea.

“I have three plantings of peas; two planting are up so nice. The currants and gooseberries are full of blossoms, and my purple lilac had one bunch of flowers. I think it is so nice to have a nice garden. It does us a lot of good to see the things grow, and I like to work in it, but our garden is so far away now, since we have moved, it is behind a hill so we can’t see it from our house.”

Because she couldn’t see her garden, she meticulously plucked off each bud — despite professing she hated doing so. In a letter home, she explained that “the Japanese are so fond of flowers and they wander so much over the hills next to our garden” that she felt compelled to keep her flowers from blooming, “so they do not attract anyone in the garden.”

Although Allen enjoyed the legation’s garden — especially after he became minister — Mount Bukhan held a special place in his heart. One of his earliest newspaper articles was about the mountain, and he made it a tradition to celebrate his birthday (April 23) with a picnic on its slope.

In a letter home in 1895, Sally Sill wrote:

“(Today, April 23), is Dr. Allen’s birthday and the family planned an excursion to Pouk Han, a mountain nine miles from here, where the scenery is beautiful and, just now, the azaleas are in full bloom and there they grow luxuriously. Unfortunately it rained, so it had to be deferred until next week.”

In April 1901, in one of his frequent letters to his sons, Allen declared that the weather was so pleasant that everything was in full bloom. He and the German consul Dr. Weipert, along with a couple of American businessmen, trekked up Mount Bukhan. They visited the Buddhist temple on the mountain’s peak where Allen “did good work with that fine spring” behind the temple. Allen informed the priest that it had been 10 years since he had drunk from the spring but “had thought of it through many thirsty countries.” The priest was pleased to hear Allen’s praise of the water, and even more delighted when the American minister — who tended to be a skinflint — gave a small monetary contribution to the temple.

Japanese residents in Seoul also wrote home describing the beauty of Mount Bukhan and the spring blossoms. At the beginning of April 1910, a Japanese teacher sent his family a postcard of Ui-dong (Ox-ear Village). On the front of the postcard he wrote:

“The cherry, peach, and apricot blossoms are very beautiful right now. This is a famous spot for cherry blossoms in this area. It is located about 3 ri (about 12km) east of the school. Tomorrow, my school is going on a field trip to this place.”

To this day, Ui-dong and Mount Bukhan remain associated with Seoul’s spring landscapes. While the intensity of the cherry blossoms varies from year to year, depending on the weather, the seasonal rhythm of flowering still draws people to these same valleys and slopes, as it did a century ago.