[Joseon Images] An elegant imposter's visit to Joseon

Jemulpo in the late 1880s-1890s / Robert Neff Collection

By Robert Neff

When William Franklin Sands, a young American diplomat, arrived in Jemulpo (part of modern Incheon) in January 1898, he described the port as "an unattractive entrance to a great adventure." Sailors from European, American and Japanese warships filled the streets as they traveled from one bar or brothel to another. There were opium dens, beggars, muggings, brawls in the streets and even a couple of murders. It was an adventurous place but it had a fairly large police force to maintain some degree of order.

A dozen years earlier (in the spring of 1886), when Jemulpo was much smaller and the buildings were cruder ― it was arguably even more unattractive and daunting. It had a rather small and ineffective police force that tried to maintain order, as increasing numbers of foreigners came looking to make their fortunes ― legally or illegally.

Curious things came in and out of the port that year. In early April, 100,000 mulberry trees were brought from China to help start a silkworm industry. A couple of months earlier, Chinese people tried to smuggle red ginseng out of Korea aboard a Chinese naval ship. When they were discovered by the Korean customs, the smugglers rose up en masse and attacked the customs officials; a contingent of Chinese marines had to be landed to quell the riot.

Maximilian Taubles, a Czech American, arrived in late February. The small Western community welcomed him, but he made it clear to one and all that he wished to be left alone. Taubles chose to live in a Korean residence far from his Western peers which caused many to speculate as to his motives. Some even suggested he was a spy. In reality he was a photographer, a Japanese art expert and a writer ― a correspondent for Harper's Magazine. Within two weeks of his arrival, he was found dead ― a victim of smallpox.

In early April, another Westerner arrived on a steamship from Japan. He was described as being "a young man of fair complexion, light moustache, large blue eyes" and wore his hair in a pompadour. He was charming and outgoing and readily introduced himself as R. F. Lascelles ― probably noting that he was just a month away from his 30th birthday ― and he bore a number of letters of recommendation.

A sketch of Lascelles in 1897 taken from New York Journal, July 9, 1897 / Public Domain

He was definitely a ladies' man, but unfortunately for him, there were few Western women in Korea at the time and most of them were married.

However, Lascelles was also popular with men. To some he was a musician, "with a cultivated tenor voice," and to others he was a businessman and "a fair judge of horseflesh" ― having owned several champion horses while in Hong Kong. There was a streak of courage in him. In 1878, he had served as the personal assistant to a maharajah in India and together they hunted tigers from the backs of elephants.

Perhaps while drinking at the Hotel de Coree in Jemulpo, Lascelles regaled his drinking companions with tales of the actress he fell in love with in Shanghai. She and her manager beguiled him out of a great deal of money. Love is, after all, a gamble. Apparently, he was a better gambler with cards (he claimed to be an expert) than with love.

For some days, Lascelles amused the small community at Jemulpo with his fantastic and unbelievable exploits ― he claimed that when Prince Jerome Napoleon visited India earlier that year, he had acted as his double. However, this act all came to an end when part of his past arrived April 22 aboard a steamship from Shanghai.

Sir John David Rees ― the under-secretary of the Madras government in India ― was bound for Yokohama and disembarked from his steamship for a quick tour of Jemulpo. While strolling about the port, he "accidentally" encountered Lascelles and immediately denounced him as a swindler and a thief. Word spread quickly.

Charles H. Cooper, a businessman in the port, sent a message to George C. Foulk, the American representative in Seoul, declaring Lascelles to be "a forger, swindler, + black leg." From what he had gathered, for the past two years, Lascelles had passed himself off as an American and other times as an Englishman ― depending on which authority was trying to arrest him. "Have nothing to do with him unless it is to put him in jail" Cooper warned, adding that the sooner Lascelles was "run to earth the better."

Rees informed Parker, the British vice-consul in Jemulpo, that Lascelles was also known as Sydney B. Lewis, and was suspected of having obtained money under false pretenses in Shanghai, Hong Kong, Madras and Ceylon. In fact, in Shanghai, a German hairdresser named George Polite (who was also the proprietor of the "Toilet Club," which may have been a gambling den) offered a reward of $2,000 for his arrest.

Foulk, unable to determine Lascelles/Lewis' nationality, refused to arrest him. Parker was equally stymied because the swindler claimed to be American.

Lascelles claimed that it was a misunderstanding and gave Rees part of the money he owed him. Parker made it clear to Lascelles that if he received a telegraphic order to arrest him, he would gladly do so. Realizing that he was no longer welcome in Korea, Lascelles quietly left.

In early May, Foulk learned that Lascelles ― prior to his arrival in Korea ― had swindled a number of people in Japan, including the American ambassador. It was not the last time Lascelles' name would be in print.

On June 1, he arrived in San Francisco and continued his spree. One source claims that his life of crime began in San Francisco in 1875, when he posed as a young British naval officer. According to his autobiography (which is likely a piece of self-serving fiction), his first criminal act took place in London in 1876, when he used his position as a bank official to gain inside knowledge and invest in the stock market. He and his partner lost a great deal of money when they were caught in a sting operation.

Lascelles (we don't know if that was his true name) committed crimes on at least four continents (North America, Asia, Europe, Africa and possibly Australia), married a number of rich women, had at least 18 names, claimed to have been born in the United States, England and Australia, and served time in a prison labor camp in the U.S. state of Georgia (where he wrote his autobiography).

He may have been one of the greatest swindlers in the 19th century, but he couldn't swindle death in the 20th century. Living in Asheville, North Carolina, as Lord Beresford or Lord Douglas, he was robbed of his final breath by tuberculosis on Nov. 10, 1902.

His death certificate listed him as Sidney Lascelles, a "capitalist" born in England and related to the Beresford family through his mother. The funeral home, expecting the family to pay a handsome sum, embalmed his body while waiting for instructions. It was a long wait.

Over the years, his body was occasionally placed on display. A traveling circus offered to buy it, but was refused; the funeral home was convinced that eventually his corpse would be claimed. In 1910, Lascelles' first wife, who, despite being hurt by him so many years ago, still loved him, had his body shipped to New York, where it was cremated and his ashes spread in the Potomac River.

Almost 111 years have passed, and yet we still do not know who he was, as no birth certificates can be found for him or any members of his family. Even in death he continues to swindle us.

My appreciation to Diane Nars for her invaluable assistance.