The Korean emperor and the 'American Princess' part 3: Emma Kroebel

The peacefulness of Gwanghwamun in the early 1900s / Robert Neff Collection

Alice Roosevelt, “the American Princess,” wasn’t the only unofficial royal to grace the Korean court in the early 1900s. There was also Antoinette Sontag, known as “the uncrowned empress of Korea.” Unlike Roosevelt, who was merely a visitor, Sontag ruled over the imperial household staff — especially when it came to entertaining palace guests.

“She sits in state, concealed from the eyes of the guests behind a traditional Korean screen or an ornate curtain, from which point she controls everything," said Emma Kroebel, the wife of a German merchant in Tsingtao, China. "A nod from her suffices to mobilize the entire retinue of imperial servants whose assistance is usually offered on such occasions.”

The uncrowned empress of Korea never met the American princess, as Sontag was in Europe on a year-long leave of absence. In her place, Kroebel, 32 years old at the time, temporarily assumed the position as “Imperial Mistress of Court Ceremonies” in 1905.

Sontag Hotel in the 1900s. The hotel was once described as a den of intrigue. Robert Neff Collection

There is almost nothing written about Kroebel in American correspondence or diplomatic despatches, and her stay in Korea would likely have remained unknown to most Americans were it not for her 1909 book, “Wie ich an den Koreanischen Kaiserhof kam” [How I Came to Be at the Korean Imperial Court]. In it, she recounts her duties as the “Mistress of Court Ceremonies” and shares numerous anecdotes about palace life and her personal observations of Korean culture — particularly the role of women. She described Korean women as being confined by tradition:

“To her belongs the care of the household, the upbringing of the children, and also the work of providing food and drink. The man, by contrast, idly lingers in the streets, smoking his long pipe, while the woman bends under the weight of her labors and bears the greatest burdens with admirable patience.”

According to Kroebel — and, for that matter, many of the 19th-century Western observers — marriage “is the commandment for the soul of the Korean girl.” She only gained “full recognition through marriage,” while spinsterhood meant damnation: “buried apart from the common graves, far from the village burial grounds” so that she would not “disturb the eternal rest of her ancestors.”

The road to the tomb of Queen Min (Empress Myeongseong) in the early 1900s / Robert Neff Collection

Kroebel went on to describe Korean marriages: women often not seeing their groom until the day of their wedding, and the silence that tradition demanded they maintain during and even after the ceremony. According to Kroebel, sometimes “women are married for three or four months without having spoken a single word to their husbands.” She painted a vivid picture of the woman’s yoke of servitude to her husband.

Kroebel was convinced “the Korean woman will only gradually achieve the same rights that the European woman has already won.” Her biased belief in the superiority of Western womanhood, however, was soon challenged by the arrival of Alice Roosevelt.

As mentioned in the previous two articles, Alice and a delegation of American politicians, businessmen and their wives, arrived in Korea on Sept. 19 and spent 10 days attending parties held in the honor of the “American Princess” at the legations and even the palace. When she wasn’t being courted by the dignitaries of Seoul, she was out riding horses and streetcars. Determined to impress her, “the Emperor finally decided to bestow upon the daughter of the President of the United States the highest honor at his command — namely, a reception at the graveside of his departed consort, the Empress.”

Queen Min’s tomb in the early 1900s / Robert Neff Collection

The reception was held on Sept. 27. The road leading to the tomb was widened and repaired in anticipation of Alice’s arrival, and Kroebel and her staff were sent ahead to prepare the food and entertainment. Kroebel recalled:

“Shortly after the suite arrived a tornado of dust burst upon us, out of which a cavalcade of equestrians emerged. At their head rode a dashing young horsewoman clad in a scarlet riding habit, beneath the lower extremities of which peeped tight-fitting red riding breeches struck into glittering boots. In her hand she brandished a riding whip, in her mouth was a cigar.

"It was Miss Alice Roosevelt. We were flabbergasted. We had expected a different sort of apparition. Everybody was bowing and scraping in the most approved Corean court fashion, but the Rough Rider’s daughter seemed to think it all a joke.”

The approach to Queen Min’s tomb in the early 1900s / Robert Neff Collection

As the Mistress of Ceremonies, Kroebel stammered out a few words of greeting to Roosevelt, which were merely met with a mumbled word of thanks. Alice was fixated with “the colossal figures of gods and the mammoth stone images of animals which hold watch over the graves of the departed members of the Korean dynasty.” It was the stone elephant that especially caught her attention and, springing from her horse, she jumped upon the elephant and shouted for Congressman Nicholas Longworth III (whom she later married) to take her picture.

The Koreans and Kroebel were “paralyzed with horror and astonishment” at Alice’s sacrilegious conduct and “American ways” at this most “holy spot.” It was an act “without parallel in Corean history,” declared the German woman.

“It was a critical moment. The suspense was relieved only by the passing of tea and other refreshments. Alice remained oblivious to what was going on around her. Not a word of thanks for her reception was forthcoming. She chatted casually with the wife of the American minister, Mrs. Morgan, and partook bravely of the champagne and other delicacies. Suddenly she gave orders for the saddling of her horse and galloped away with her male escorts like a Buffalo Bill.”

A postcard of Queen Min’s tomb from the early 1900s / Robert Neff Collection

Kroebel’s account of the picnic at the tomb immediately caused a stir when newspapers throughout the United States published extracts. Longworth told the press:

“Neither Mrs. [Alice] Longworth nor myself can remember any such occurrence. I know that she was most respectful to the Korean people and carried herself as she always has, as a lady in whom refinement is more than a casual thought.”

He denounced the account and the writer, whom he asserted “was either drunk or crazy,” and added, “I should not be surprised to learn that she was both.” He also denied having seen any sacred elephant, but if it existed, he and his wife most assuredly would not have done anything “to mar its beauty or its sacredness in the minds of the Koreans.”

He explained that during their stay in Seoul they were kept constantly occupied with official events and spent very little time at each engagement, adding that neither he nor his wife could recall every meeting a Mrs. Kroebel. Nor were the Longworths the only ones unable to remember such an incident:

“Ask any member of the party if anything like that happened. There was a lot of us and we stuck pretty close to one another. Fraulein Kroebel might have confused us with another party, and if she did I think it very unwise of her to say that any of us acted in that manner.”

Even missionaries — who were often unquestionably perceived as honest observers of Korean events — disputed Kroebel’s account. Rev. George Heber Jones and his wife, Margaret, were among the most respected and knowledgeable missionaries in Korea, and while on furlough in the United States, they were asked their opinion on the alleged scandal.

Margaret admitted that she and her husband were not in Korea during Roosevelt’s visit, but she was absolutely certain the story was a fabrication. In an interview she declared:

“First, there are no stone elephants in or near Seoul. There are crude images of horses, goats, and other animals, but not one of an elephant. As there was no elephant for Miss Roosevelt to mount, it is just as likely that she had no cigar to smoke.”

To support her claim, she added, “Do you not suppose that if Miss Roosevelt had desecrated the tomb we should have heard of it from all the other missionaries on our return?” And then, authoritatively, concluded “There was no mistress of court ceremonies named Kroebel during the twenty years we have lived in Korea.”

Even those who dismissed Kroebel’s story couldn’t resist commenting on its plausibility or, at least, its style.

Alice Roosevelt visits one of the royal tombs — presumably Queen Min’s. Courtesy of the Division of Rare and Manuscript Collections, Cornell University Library

“Of course, it may be all pure fiction,” declared one newspaper editor, but then added, “Fraulein Kroebel may have invented it out of whole cloth, but if she did she exhibited a remarkable familiarity with the Rooseveltiar manner of doing things.”

Eventually, the alleged scandal faded from the pages of the newspapers and would likely have disappeared from history — except for a single picture.

A picture found in Willard Straight’s collection after his death. And, as the old saying goes, a picture is worth a thousand words. I’ll only point out that Kroebel was neither drunk nor crazy — she merely failed to correctly identify the stone statue Alice was astride.

My sincere appreciation to Diane Nars for her invaluable assistance and to Cornell University Library for its extensive online collection of Willard D. Straight’s photographs and postcards.