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| A view of Jongno and Bosingak in the early 20th century Robert Neff Collection |
By Robert Neff
In Korea, the iconic symbol of New Year's Eve is the ringing of the bell at Bosingak in downtown Seoul. In the recent past, the streets surrounding the bell were filled with revelers who welcomed the New Year as the bell was struck 33 times. It was the Korean equivalent of the ball dropping at New York's Times Square.
It isn't clear when New Year's Eve on the solar calendar became popular in Korea but we do know that in the early 1890s it was celebrated by Western and Japanese residents at the open ports ― Jemulpo (modern Incheon), Fusan (Busan) and Wonsan ― as well as in Seoul.
On New Year's Eve 1890, one early visitor to Jemulpo recalled having to dodge intoxicated Japanese revelers as he made his way through the noisy, crowded streets. "It was enough to drive anybody crazy," he complained. "Each house, with its paper walls, hardly suitable for the climate, seemed to contain a regular pandemonium. Men and women were to be seen squatting on the ground round a huge brass hibachi, where a charcoal fire was blazing, singing and yelling and playing and clapping their hands to their hearts' content." He also noted that the geisha were in high demand.
Undoubtedly, the sailors and merchants (Western and Japanese) also celebrated with a great deal of alcohol and revelry, but (unsurprisingly) they did not write about their exploits nor were their indiscretions worthy of being immortalized in the diaries and letters of their teetotaling peers ― the missionaries.
The "first ball" to be held in Jemulpo was given on Dec. 31, 1896, at the fine residence (almost castle-like) of Mr. and Mrs. Carl Wolter. According to the local newspaper, "there were six ladies and ten gentlemen present [and] the new year was greeted by fire crackers and an appropriate speech by the genial host. The guests retired at a late hour."
I am pretty sure alcohol ― wine, champagne and beer ― were served at this ball but I cannot imagine any of the guests staggering home through the streets
The Western community in Seoul was, for the most part, comprised of missionaries and diplomats and their celebrations were rather modest and held on Jan. 1. Throughout the day, people would make short visits to their friends and neighbors ― stopping only long enough to present their card and maybe a small gift, drink some coffee or tea and have a slice of cake before bidding their fondest wishes for a healthy and prosperous new year.
While the solar New Year may not have been celebrated by the average Korean, it was still recognized by the Korean court. According to one American resident:
"The King, Queen and Crown Prince sent us more presents yesterday ― three times as many as usual because she and her son added their gifts with the King's, for instance we always get 2 hundred eggs each time, now yesterday we got 6 hundred and so on with so many things, beef, pheasants 30 in number, nuts, chestnuts and English walnuts, dried persimmons & etc. We are always glad to receive them."
This seems to have been the norm for the Korean royal family throughout the 1890s as the number of eggs and pheasants remained the same each year, but some of the other items varied ― sometimes beef, other times fish, bags of walnuts, chestnuts, pine nuts and Korean cherries.
In her diary the American wrote, "I am very much obliged to them [the royal family] for the very liberal gifts."
The monarch was not the only one to send gifts. Many officials sent small gifts of live pigeons and chickens, dead pheasants, oranges, nuts and "a quantity of a delightful [Korean] dish, some kind of cake with honey and other things which are mixed [into] them." She was so pleased with these cakes that were nibbled on all throughout the day and was concerned that she would not be able to eat the fruit roll that she had ordered her cook earlier that morning to bake.
The New Year was also observed by some of the Korean Christians who sent gifts of pheasants, eggs and chestnuts. Merchants of all nationalities capitalized on the event by sending gifts of small cakes, oranges and other little treats along with a calendar and card. Naturally the calendars and cards acted as advertisements for their goods and services ― a wish for a happy and prosperous new year for them and their customers.
In some cases, the New Year also served as a diplomatic or political tool. In 1895, the monarch and crown prince ― along with most of the male members of the Korean court ― were compelled to get haircuts. Their top-knots (a symbol of manhood) were shorn from their heads ― some [foreign residents and Koreans] viewed it on the same level as emasculation while others saw it as a step forward into the modern world. Within weeks the capital was paralyzed as food and firewood became scarce ― the merchants and porters refusing to enter the city out of fear their top-knots would be cut off. The reformers eventually capitulated and the males were allowed to keep their hair.
The 1902 edition of the Korea Review (a magazine published in Seoul) reported that "on New Year's day His Majesty received the diplomatic and consular bodies, and the foreign employees of the government in audience." It is a rather benign observation until we pair it with an account from Horace N. Allen, the American representative to Korea. He claimed that the diplomats, angered by the policies of the Korean government, refused to attend the audience ― their refusal was "withdrawn on compliance with their request."
As for the famous bell at Bosingak ― it has long been a representative of time and hope. Since the late 14th century at the dawn of the Joseon Kingdom, the toll of this bell (the original and its replica) signaled the opening and closing of the city gates, as well as curfews and emergencies.
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| This seems to have been a popular spot to take photographs of the bell in the early 20th century. Robert Neff Collection |
At 4 a.m., the bell was struck 33 times ― symbolic of hope and prosperity ― while late in the evening (between 8 p.m. and 10 p.m. ― depending on the contemporary accounts) the bell was struck 28 times and the gates were closed and the streets were to be cleared of men.
Lillias Underwood described the event somewhat poetically:
"When the extremely sweet and solemn, low and yet penetrating tones of this bell were heard, the ponderous [city] gates were swung to and barred, not to be reopened till the ringing of the same bell at the first streak of dawn gave the signal to the keepers."
Another missionary, however, abhorred the bell's toll as she felt trapped and helpless within the city. Many of us can probably relate to her sentiment. To some extent the COVID-19 pandemic has closed the gates of Korea. Last year, for the first time since 1953, the public was not allowed to attend the ringing of the bell and were forced to watch it at home on their televisions or the internet.
It seems that a new tradition has begun: this year, too, the bell will have to be heard at home.
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