The Great Bell of Beijing

The Mongol Empire at its greatest extent
Map created by the author

When the year 1368 came, for over one and a half centuries many of the nations of the world had been living in a state of constant fear for their very existence. With good reason. From humble origins as nomadic tribesmen on the Asian steppe, the Mongol armies of Genghis Khan and his successors had exploded across the known world. Every nation that had stood up to them lay in flames and countless armies that had been sent to desperately try and stop them had been utterly destroyed. When the hordes of Kublai Khan, grandson of Genghis Khan, fell upon China, the Song Dynasty and thousands of years of Chinese independence were hurled aside like a rag doll. The Mongol Khagan now ruled over the largest land empire the world has ever known, stretching from the East China Sea to the Mediterranean. It was indeed through the Mongol trade routes that the Black Death, the deadliest pandemic in history which left one in three Europeans dead, would extend the hand of Death with breath taking speed. Mongols had fought both Koreans and Hungarians, yet Koreans had never even heard of Hungarians, and were oblivious that they were fighting the same foe, so vast was the Mongol domain...

The Ming Empire
Map created by the author

In 1241, having routed the armies of Christian Europe, the Mongols were bearing down upon the gates of Vienna when news suddenly reached them of the death of the Khagan, Ogedei Khan. As was Mongol custom, all princes were required to return to the Mongol heartland to elect a successor, and the hordes at once returned to Asia. Only by a stroke of extreme good luck, therefore, was Europe saved from almost certain destruction. Over time, as the descendants of Genghis Khan grew mistrustful of each other, and drunk on their dazzling spoils of conquest, the Great Mongol Empire split into four. Each quarter was still vastly greater in size than many countries put together, but herein marked their decline. The Yuan Dynasty, or Mongol rule of China, was weakened, and after an enormous uprising, the Chinese at last threw off the Mongol yoke in 1368. The Chinese Emperor was restored to the Dragon Throne in the newly born Ming Dynasty, which would see China rise to new heights of learning and the arts. In 1403, the Yongle Emperor, third of the Ming Dynasty, decided to reassert Chinese traditions, and made a momentous decision. Leaving the Imperial Capital of Nanjing, he decided instead to make a new capital city on the ruins of Dadu, the old stronghold of Mongol rule. To this city he gave the name Beijing. Here is the story of something that happened in the new city.

The Forbidden City
Built between 1406 - 1420

The Chinese were free, but at a heavy price. Much of China was in a state of devastation, poverty and vulnerability. The Yongle Emperor, however, was a shrewd and ambitious ruler. His many edicts traversed the land in a whirlwind of speed, and soon the future looked bright for China. The farms were working once more, the army well equipped, the people fed and the treasury full. The Emperor attracted all the most learned minds in China, and soon the court, and city, of Beijing began to radiate the glory that the Mongols had all but destroyed. The most skilled poets set about writing great works of literature, the most skilled generals set forth to liberate more lands from foreign rule, and the most skilled artisans set to work on building a grand new city to house the Dragon Throne - The Forbidden City. As was tradition in Chinese cities, two towers were raised; one to house a Great Drum, to watch over the surrounding lands, and the other to house a Great Bell, to raise the alarm should any enemy march on the city. Great care and attention was lavished upon these two structures. The Mongols may have been beaten, but they still loomed as a terrifying threat on the northern borders of the Great Wall, and the newly liberated Chinese had no wish to endure the humiliation of occupation again. The Drum Tower was soon finished, and the Drum within was sounded. The booming thuds thundered across the city, loud enough such that even roosting birds on the other side of the city might be roused to flight from the trees.


As the Bell Tower was nearing completion, the Emperor decided that it should be crowned with a truly magnificent bell, worthy of the glorious home that had been made for it. Hearing of a gifted smith called Kuan Yu, the Yongle Emperor granted him a generous gift of money, and ordered the man to craft a bell which, when struck, could be heard in all parts of the city at the slightest alarm. Honoured at being chosen, Kuan Yu returned to his home, and set work on the Great Bell of Beijing. The Emperor's money paid for a vast retinue of the most skilled metal smiths to help, and the finest metals. It was some months before the mould was at last ready, and Kuan Yu announced to the Emperor that the casting could begin. In splendid array, the Emperor and his court came to the forge to witness the casting. As the exuberant parades died down, ready for the event, the bellmaker's excitement grew, eager as he was to honour his Emperor. At the signal, the channel opened, and the molten metal rushed forth into the mould. The anticipation grew as the metal cooled, and Kuan Yu stepped forward to break away the mould. Kuan Yu was craftsman, who took immense pride in the quality of his work, and when he pulled aside the mould to find the bell honeycombed with pits in many places, he was mortified. The Bell was ruined. The Emperor despaired at the time, labour and money that had been wasted on it. But he was an understanding and forgiving man at heart, and so gave to Kuan Yu another pouch of money, ordering him to try again.


The shocked bellmaker heeded the Emperor's word, and immediately set to work on a new Bell. As he once more laid out the mould, he was wracked with self-doubt and confusion. Nothing like this had ever happened before; it was not like him to fail so completely. Resolving that the mistake was as a result of an oversight on his part, Kuan Yu doubled his efforts and concentration, determined that his error be forgotten. After months of hard work, the mould was ready, and the glowing furnaces burned in readiness. Once more, the Yongle Emperor and his flamboyant court took up position to watch. At the signal, the channel opened at the radiant metal poured in. Kuan Yu, wiping the sweat from his nervous brow, approached the mould. Gently prising it away, he felt terror flood his body. For once again, the Bell was ruined. The Emperor despaired, as the gathered crowds got up to leave in disappointment. But this time, the Emperor spoke to Kuan Yu. He gave the bellmaker another pouch of money, and a warning. For to err once is understandable, twice forgivable, but three times punishable. He gave Kuan Yu one last chance, and if, on the third time it was a failure, he would pay with his life.

The Yongle Emperor
Ink parchment by anonymous artist,
Early Ming Dynasty

Kuan Yu returned home a broken man. What offense had his ancestors committed, such as to earn him such misfortune? Twice he had failed his Emperor, and he could not see how to avoid a third time. Now, if there was one thing Kuan Yu treasured more than his professional pride and honour, it was his daughter. Sixteen years of age and astonishingly beautiful, she had "almond-shaped eyes, like the autumn waves, which, sparkling and dancing in the sun, seem to leap up in joy". She was modest too, and prodigious in talent for many fine things. She was the apple of her father's eye, and the two lived together happily, though the bellmaker's wife had tragically died long ago. Ko-ai, as she was called, returned his affection, and when she saw him, distraught, she begged to know the source of his grief. When her father told her of his failures, she comforted him, resolving to offer daily prayers for his success this time. "Are we not told that out of evil cometh good?" she asked. Soothed by her words, Kuan Yu set about the hard work of forging one last bell, newly invigorated. The months passed, and soon the day for the unveiling approached. Every night, Ko-ai had prayed, but suddenly she had the idea of visiting a respected seer, in the hope that he might know the cause of both failures. "The next bell will fail", he replied. Ko-ai was mortified, but the seer continued, "unless the blood of a young girl is poured in with the metal".


The fateful day of the third casting arrived. Much of the city, it seemed, had come to witness the scene with the Emperor. There was a nervous tension in the air, for the day would end only in honour, or death for Kuan Yu. The bellmaker could hardly restrain his fear as he walked bravely up to the mould, ready to pour the molten metal in. The signal was given, and Kuan Yu reached for the lever, but just then, a shout startled the crowd. It was Ko-ai. "For my father", she called in defiance, as she hurled herself from the walkway into the boiling metal. "KO-AI!!!" the bellmaker shouted, but it was too late. One of the workmen reached out for her as she fell, but could only save her shoe. As the girl's hands touched the fiery liquid, an unearthly scream resounded from her lips, and soon Ko-ai and metal were one. Kuan Yu's sanity shattered. Many men were needed to forcibly drag him home, as he bellowed deranged words. A workman broke open the mould and, as the seer had prophesied, the bell stood proud, unblemished, unbroken, with not a trace to suggest the horror within.


Some days later, the hour had come. By order of the Yongle Emperor, the Great Bell was raised to its new home atop the tower. All Beijing had gathered for this moment, and all had heard rumours of its making. The Emperor gave the order, and the Bell was struck with a hammer. Such a boom it was! With a ringing clash as though of thunder, the sound rolled out to the very highest mountains. It seemed the Bell was in that moment Kuan Yu's truly greatest legacy. But then, as the deafening tone began to die, a low sound followed it. A sound remarkably like the shout of a woman in terrible agony, and it sent a chill down the spine of all. As the tone quietened, the word shoe was distinctly heard in the ringing. Even today, when the Great Bell is rung, passers-by flinch and remark, "There's poor Ko-ai's voice calling for her shoe..."

United Kingdom

Myths of China:
Myths and Legends of China - The Original Classic Edition
(A vast collection of stories and myths, including that of the Great Bell of Beijing, from China, translated into English)

United States

Myths of China:
Myths and Legends of China - The Original Classic Edition
(A vast collection of stories and myths, including that of the Great Bell of Beijing, from China, translated into English)

The Monkey Who Would Be King

When we in the West think of the Medieval era, often what comes to mind are armoured knights, courtly ladies, corrupt clergy, devastating plagues and the Crusades. All too easily one can forget that there was a vibrant world beyond Europe. Yet whilst King Henry VIII of England and the Pope were tearing themselves and Christianity apart, an ancient civilisation flourished in the East. For the Ming Dynasty of Imperial China was a force to be reckoned with, riding the wave of an illustrious culture which today is at least three thousand years old. Global trade boomed, religious wars were an alien concept and the arts underwent a Renaissance. Here is one of the many stories hailing from those times, the tale of the Monkey who desired the Heavens.

The Monkey jumps the Waterfall
Woodblock print by Tsukioka Yoshitoshi

Legend tells of an ancient mountain, rising from the distant Eastern Oceans. Living beings, both mortal and divine, knew it as the Mountain of Flowers and Fruits, for its towering heights were bountiful, lush and green. The denizens of the Mountain, however, were not quite so idyllic. For everywhere one looked, demons ran amok, and order was always far away. Only one cavern in the cliffs was free of them, the Water Curtain Cave, so named for the the roaring waterfall which plunged over its entrance, and no being dared cross it. One day, from the shifting powers of chaos and order in the cosmos, a strange egg of stone was formed at the very summit of the Mountain. The fauna of the land were puzzled by this strange object, and more so when it hatched. For one day, with a deafening crack, the two halves of the shell blasted apart, and from the midst emerged a monkey. An inquisitive creature, the monkey soon found a tribe of others like him on the slopes of the Mountain. The other monkeys were welcoming, and proudly showed their tranquil domain, but were careful to explain to the newcomer that the cavern beyond the thundering waters was where no monkey trod. The newcomer, however, a stranger to the superstitions of the world, merely laughed, and with a spectacular jump, soared through the falls, landing gracefully upon the bare rock within. The other monkeys looked on, shocked, but in awe. Revering the newcomer, the tribe named him as the Monkey King.

Sun Wukong - the Monkey King
Woodblock print by Tsukioka Yoshitoshi

The Monkey King relished his new station, and soon all the monkey tribes of the Mountain were united under his rule. But after a time, he grew haughty. Calling himself the 'Handsome Monkey King', he soon began to tire of the limits that mortality brings. So, one day, he bundled several sticks together and built a raft, setting off over the horizon of the Great Ocean. Coming at last to the civilised spheres of the world, the Monkey King travelled far and wide, on a quest for knowledge and power. Now there were only a few beings on Earth who wielded the arcane power that linked Heaven and Earth, and these were the Xian (in Taoism, the Xian are a race of immortals). After an age, the Monkey King tracked down one of the Xian, determined to become his disciple and rise above his lowly station as a monkey. At first, the Xian turned the monkey away, again and again, mistrusting the creature and suspecting deceit. But when the monkey implored the Xian for knowledge, that he had travelled across Ocean and land to find him, the great spirit began to listen. Intrigued, the Xian asked him where he had come from, expecting the animal to reply 'the trees'. "All I remember is that there was a magic stone on the top of the Flower and Fruit Mountain, and that one year the stone split open and I was born", the monkey replied. The Xian was amazed at this, declaring "you were born of Heaven and Earth". The Xian took the monkey on as his apprentice, granting him a new name - Sun Wukong - a name which means Monkey Awakened to Emptiness. Soon, Sun began to gain mastery over human speech, and as the Xian grew impressed at his eagerness to learn, began to learn the ways of magic. Sun learned the secret of shapeshifting, and could soon morph his lowly form into seventy two different creatures. He learned, too, how to soar thirty four thousand miles in a single leap. Each of the hairs on his simian body he could bend to his will, transforming each to whatever he desired, even a clone of himself.

Sun Wukong before the Jade Emperor
Woodblock print by Tsukioka Yoshitoshi

Before long, Sun began succumb to pride once again. Boasting of his sheer power to the Xian's other disciples, Sun soon earned the scorn of his master. When the monkey's arrogance went too far, the Xian turned him away from his realm, commanding Sun never to reveal to another soul where he had learned his sorcery. Believing himself greater than the Xian, Sun returned to the Mountain of Flowers and Fruits, and enthroned himself once again, this time to be worshipped as a demigod by the creatures of the world. Ravenous for power, Sun could no longer be sated by the Earth itself. Diving to the depths of the Ocean, the monkey turned his hand to thievery, breaking into the watery domain of Ao Guang, the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea. For he sought Ruyi Jingu Bang, a magical staff, a weapon of immense power and the very tool by which the gods had pushed the Ocean floor to the depths. The Staff glowed bright when Sun approached, acknowledging its new master. Hungrily, Sun stole it, and made his escape, conquering the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas with the boundless power over the oceans which the Staff brought him. The forces of Heaven, however, began to grow angry with Sun, and after an immense struggle, overpowered the monkey and bound him in Hell. It was then that Sun realised with a jolt that, as a mortal, he could still die. So the monkey broke free of his bonds, slew his guards and tore his name from the pages of the Book of Life and Death. In this tome was recorded the fates of every creature on the earth, and its word was law. Now that Sun's name was absent, the monkey was immortal, and the gods, outraged at his blasphemy, conspired against him.

The Jade Emperor
Image taken from a Chinese painted silk,
Ming Dynasty, 16th century

The Heavenly Spirits appealed to the Jade Emperor, the god who ruled Heaven and the mortal worlds, for help. A peaceful being, the Jade Emperor sought a peaceful solution to the crisis. Summoning Sun to him, he offered the monkey the position of Keeper of Heaven's Horses, believing that a station in Heaven would satiate the creature's ambition. Happily, Sun accepted. It was not long after, however, that Sun discovered that this was the lowliest position in Heaven. Enraged, the monkey threw open the gates to the Stables, and the Horses of Heaven bolted, causing havoc. Fawning and apologetic, the gods made Sun the Keeper of the Heavenly Garden. Satisfied, yet mistrustful, Sun accepted. However, when a vast banquet was held in the Garden, and all the gods and goddesses were invited, and Sun was not, the monkey once again went on the rampage. Turning once again to thievery, the monkey stole the peaches of immortality, the property of the mother goddess Xi Wangmu, and the pills of longevity that were the property of Lao Tzu (the founder of Taoism), and the royal wine that was the property of the Jade Emperor himself, before sprinting back to his island home. The gods, furious, sent the armies of Heaven to arrest Sun. Though a hundred thousand strong, the hosts of Heaven were no match for the arcane might of the Xian that Sun had learned, as the Monkey King conquered them all. Drunk with an unbridled thirst for power, Sun let his guard down, just enough so that the combined power of all the gods could restrain him at last. Angry this time, the Jade Emperor commanded Lao Tzu to seal the monkey into a cauldron and set a fire beneath it, to eradicate Sun once and for all. Lao Tzu, still seething at the thievery he had suffered, obeyed without hesitation. Celebrating, the gods departed, and for a while, peace was at hand in the cosmos.

Forty nine days later, when many of the gods had even forgotten about Sun, they broke the seal on the cauldron. Spitting with deranged fury, out jumped the monkey with not so much as a singed hair. For the gods had forgotten that, since the monkey had torn his name from the Book of Life and Death, he could not be killed. Howling with frustration, the gods despaired. Desperate, and no longer able to contain Sun, the weary Jade Emperor turned to the very power behind the cosmos - the Buddha himself.

The Buddha
13th century Bronze statue in Kamakura, Japan

Meanwhile, such was the boundless reach of his ambition, Sun had fashioned yet another name for himself - the Great Sage, and now sought to be sole ruler of Heaven. Then, the voice of power sounded in the Great Sage's mind, the voice of the Buddha. The Buddha chastised the monkey for desiring to seize the Heavenly Palace. The Great Sage retorted with boasts of his prowess, how he could transform into seventy two shapes, and travel thirty four thousand miles in a single jump, doubting even that the Buddha could match him. Calmly, the Buddha responded with a wager. If Sun could, with a single jump, outleap the Buddha himself, the Jade Emperor would abdicate and the throne of Heaven would be his. If, however, he did not, he would be cast below the Earth, to meditate on his loss for eons. The proud monkey accepted at once. Bracing, Sun breathed in deeply, crouched down, and eyed the horizon, poised for the jump of his life. With a shout he was off, and what a leap it was! The monkey was but a blur, soaring through the sky. It was with such power that he kicked off, he even left the atmosphere, hurtling through the cosmos. Soon, the monkey saw the five great pillars which marked the boundaries of the Universe, as he began to lose speed and came back down again, landing atop the central pillar. The pillar was curiously round, and the drop terrifying, but all the same, Sun marked his name where he landed, howling with triumph.

Turning back, he jumped back to where he started from, and found the Buddha awaiting him there. "Tell the Jade Emperor to hand the Heavenly Palace over to me", Sun declared. "You wretch!" the Buddha angrily retorted "You never left the palm of my hand". Bemused, Sun described that he had reached the very pillars of the Universe - "do you dare come and see it with me?" There was no need, the Buddha replied, all he had to do was look down. When the monkey looked down, he felt a pang of horror. For the Buddha had held out his hand, and there on the top of his middle finger, were the words Sun had written. The pillars he had seen were the Buddha's own fingers! So the monkey saw the full extent of his vanity at last, and could not believe it. Turning to run, he saw those great pillars closing in on him until he was in their grip. In a flash, they became mountains, and the monkey was now buried beneath them, left to ponder the price of his arrogance...

United Kingdom

Journey to the West:
Monkey (Penguin Classics)
(One of the four great Classical novels of China, the story is surprisingly easy to read)

United States

The Journey to the West:
Monkey (Penguin Classics)
(One of the four great Classical novels of China, the story is surprisingly easy to read)