The tale of the great bell of Jongno

The Jongno area in the first part of the 20th century Robert Neff Collection

By Robert Neff

Bosingak, the bell tower at Jongno, the main street through downtown Seoul, is a popular spot for ringing in the New Year. One of my most vivid memories of this event was on Dec. 31, 1999, when thousands upon thousands of people crowded the streets around the bell in anticipation and fear of the impending new millennium (among those fears was the Y2K bug). The atmosphere was unbelievable and for blocks, it was impossible to move more than a few inches as the crowd surged back and forth as the New Year was hammered by the bell's tolling.

In the late 19th century, this bell was one of the most popular sites for foreign tourists and was frequently described in letters home as well as newspaper and magazine articles. One such writer was Horace N. Allen. Allen first arrived in Korea in 1884 as an American doctor for the diplomatic and Korean Customs Department (he was actually a missionary doctor but kept his affiliation ― at least in the beginning ― somewhat downplayed) and later served as the American minister to Korea. He was a prolific writer and wrote many interesting articles about Korean culture and events. Not all were accurate, but they were, for the most part, entertaining.

In the mid-1890s, he authored a short article about the history of the bell in the Korea Repository, a monthly English magazine published in Seoul. According to Allen:

When the East Gate (Heunginjimun) was being built in the late 1390s, a large bell was found. The bell was taken and hung over the palace gate, and King Taejo was so impressed with it that he ordered a replica of the bell be made, much larger than the original.

Governors and magistrates throughout the kingdom were commanded to collect the necessary metals and materials needed to cast the new bell. Of course, these materials would come from the people who had the least to give, as evidenced by what happened in Gyeongsang Province. The government collector called upon "an old woman with a three year old boy strapped to her back" and demanded she turn over a quantity of metal. The woman claimed she had no metal to give. She did, however, offer the small boy. (Allen felt it important to add that the woman signified consent for the child to be taken by the tone of her voice.) The collector demurred the offer but later reported it to his superiors and the tale eventually came to be known in Seoul.

The East Gate in the early 1900s Robert Neff Collection

Eventually enough metal was collected and the bell was cast but while it was cooling it cracked. Undaunted, the bell was melted down and recast. And again, as it cooled, it cracked. This happened several times and the frustrated monarch announced that he would handsomely reward anyone who could solve the problem.

One workman, who had heard the tale of the old woman (he was convinced she was a witch) and small boy, declared that the bell would continue to crack unless the witch's offer was accepted. King Taejo readily accepted and the child was brought to Seoul and, when the bell was melted down, thrown into the molten metal. This time, when the bell was cast, it did not crack when it cooled.

"The bell," according to Allen, "is very plain, the only ornamentation on the outside consists in some simple rings and some characters giving the names of the officials and chief artisans who case the bell, there is a dragon shaped casting upon the apex, through which passes an iron, which in turn is bolted upon large iron staples which pass over heavy timbers and support the bell a foot above the ground."

Allen was not the only one to speak rather unflatteringly about the bell's ornamentation. In 1894, George Nathaniel Curzon, 1st Marquess Curzon of Kedleston, wrote:

"At the junction of the two main streets, under a roofed pavilion, known as the Chong Kak, or Bell Kiosque, and behind wooden bars, hangs a famous old bronze bell, which is reported, with a modesty that I cannot think remarkable, since I have found it shared by at least half a dozen rival competitors in the course of my travels, to be the third largest in the world. It is in no respect an astonishing bell, being without ornament, save for an inscription, which relates that it was erected in A.D. 1468…"

From its central location, the bell played a key part in the daily lives of the residents of the city. "When the Palace bell rings in the evening this great bell follows and then the city gates are all closed for the night."

Allen described the bell as having a "deep rich tone" and that the sound rolled "across the quiet city … with a long drawn cadence [of] 'Ah mey la' the 'la' being especially prolonged." He translated "Ah mey la" as being "Mother's fault" ― the pitiful accusation by the small boy for his mother's dark deed.

Many early visitors described the bell's tone as sad and moving. One American woman even suggested that its tolling signified the loss of freedom, trapped within a potential hostile city. The women of Seoul, however, might not have agreed with her assessment as evidenced by Allen's further comments:

The men "desert the streets after the ringing of this bell and then it was that [time that] the women could go about in freedom; all men when found upon the streets being considered thieves."

Allen claimed that the bell's name was "'In jung,'" or "'Man decides,' meaning that the men on hearing its tones decide to go to bed." He noted that in 1895 the curfew was "falling into disuse." It disappeared a few years later when streetcars were introduced.

It is interesting to add that the Korean Repository also published that month:

"The big bell in the center of the city will hereafter be rung at noon each day. It was rung the first time on the twelfth of this month. The people will approve of this use to be made of the bell."

While Allen's tale and Curzon's description are entertaining, they were not very accurate. According to the National Museum of Korea:

"The Bronze Bell of Bosingak Tower was made in 1468 at a Buddhist temple called Wongaksa, which had once been at today's Tapgol Park in downtown Seoul. The bell was deserted at the temple site for some time even after the temple was closed and dismantled, and it was then moved to Namdaemun Gate and used to announce the time. The bell was then moved to today's Myeong-dong due to the outbreak of the Japanese Invasions in 1592, and to a bell tower newly built at Unjongga Street (today's Jongno Sageori) in 1619 to be used to tell time twice a day, the start (28 strikes at 10:00 p.m.) and the end (33 strikes at 4:00 a.m.) of curfew."

Unfortunately, facts aren't always as interesting as old legends.

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