Emily Brown: The American Empress of Korea

Throne room, circa 1900-1920.

By Robert Neff

The Boston Sunday Post, November 29, 1903.

On Jan. 29, 1903, a small Wisconsin newspaper, the Daily Telegram, printed an article it had found in the Japanese Gazette that captured the world's attention for the next decade ― the story of Emily Brown.

According to the article, Emily Brown, the daughter of an American missionary in Seoul, was to be crowned Empress of Korea after her wedding to Emperor Gojong later that month. Once crowned, she would give up her former name and adopt the Korean name of Om, meaning "Dawn of the Morning."

The article went on to note that "in consideration of the important part her majesty will play in politics of the Corean court, the government of Japan will send a member of the Mikado's family to represent his empire … Sir Claude MacDonald will represent Great Britain, and there will be three representing the United States government including Minister Horace N. Allen."

Over the next couple of months the story of Emily Brown's wedding to Emperor Gojong captivated not only the American press but also the press in Europe. No one had ever heard of this simple American girl and many were eager to learn more, especially her past. Fortunately, the American newspapers were able to supply it.

The Wisconsin newspaper that broke the story was also one of the first to publish her past:

"Emily Brown was born in Appleton [Wisconsin] about 1860, her father, Rev. Herbert Brown, being a Presbyterian missionary, who lived here only a few months and her mother a remarkably beautiful woman.

"When Emily was about 15 years old her father went as a missionary to Corea and is said to have been the first Protestant missionary to settle in the capital city of Seoul. His wife and child went with him.

"Emily sang in the mission church and, learning the language rapidly, came to be used as an interpreter in church dealings with the government. Her beauty was reported to the Emperor and he commanded her to enter his harem, which she indignantly refused to do.

"About two years later she concluded to accept the Emperor's protection and went to live in the palace after securing from the Emperor a solemn promise of marriage when affairs of state would permit. This promise was kept soon after she bore the emperor a son."

It wasn't until October that the first tantalizing account of the wedding was published in The London Daily Mail.

It described the houses of Seoul as being all closed by royal decree and the citizens of the city kneeling at their doors, a new broom in each hand symbolizing their subjection, as the royal wedding procession passed.

King Gojong (later emperor), 1883-1884.

Perhaps the best known and fullest account of the wedding appeared in the Boston Sunday Post on Nov. 29, 1903:

"At the entrance to the palace were stationed a great squad of the imperial guard, who, armed with hatchets at the end of poles, prevented the throng from crowding in too close. All along the proposed line of march similar guards were placed. In the narrow streets immediately surrounding the palace the Emperor's army awaited a signal to march.

"The signal was finally given. At the head of the procession moved the generals of the army and the most favored troops. When a thousand or more soldiers had passed, trumpets blared, the palace gates were thrown wide open, and in glittering helmets and armor of five hundred years ago out marched the Emperor's bodyguard.

"Following the bodyguard came the attendants in dazzling silks and waving plumes.

"Finally with a deafening din of drums, two chairs emerged. In one of these chairs sat the Emperor Yi Hi [Gojong] and in the other Emily Brown, Empress of Corea.

"Never before had a civilized being been appareled as she was. From head to foot she was covered with gems and silk so thick that they fell in folds like heavy woolen cloth.

"Above the royal chairs waved a banner with a flying dragon fourteen feet long. Under the banner was an immense red parasol, indicating to the people that their monarch had shared his power and throne with the woman by his side."

"Korea Through Western Eyes."

The American public, especially young women, was infatuated with the life of this young American girl and her life of pomp and splendor. Living in a 400-year-old palace with 500 guards and 2,000 retainers apparently appealed to many young women. The American embassy in Seoul was flooded with hundreds of letters from applicants, foreign and American, who desired to become wives of Korean nobility.

"The fact the Emperor already has somewhere between ten and 100 wives deters the applicants for wifehood not at all. From their letters they seem to feel that what would be entirely disgraceful in the countries of their birth would become the proper thing here.

"Photographs, too, have been received by hundreds. Most of them are of women who are pretty, and the letters accompanying them lay great stress on this fact. That the Korean standard of beauty differs materially from that of Western nations is another thing, which the fair applicants overlook."

Of course, being a foreign empress was dangerous. In 1903, an article in the Russian newspaper Novoe Vremya claimed that several Korean officials were plotting to murder her. This story was also picked up in the United States:

"The courts, both in Peking and Tokio, have shown the new empress the highest honors, and she has so far managed to hold her own, though her path is beset by many dangers, and only the other day she was saved from the fate of her predecessor by the arrest of several Korean ministers and high dignitaries who were suspected of being concerned in a plot against her."

Perhaps, in answer to these perceived threats, an editorial in The Sketch wondered at what the political result of the union would bring: "The Monroe or some similar doctrine may be invoked to justify America in seizing Korea in the interests of the American woman and children, to save them from the aggressive Muscovite or [the] aspiring [Japanese]."

When Emperor Gojong abdicated his throne, Emily's plight became dire and newspapers portrayed her as "riding astride on a diminutive donkey" ― her status no longer regal. The humiliation of her fate ended with her death in 1911. An American paper reported:

"Emily Brown was the Emperor's favorite wife, and her son was made the heir apparent, and, but for the annexation of Korea by Japan, he would have become Emperor on the death of his father."

Emily Brown's story is interesting but, unfortunately, it is just that ― a story. There was no Emily Brown. Like all captivating stories, it was filled with half-truths and outright lies (there are actually three versions of the story).

Throne room, circa 1899/1900.

No matter how many times the American minister, the expat community in Korea and the Presbyterian Church denied her existence, stories continued to appear in newspapers around the world.

William Franklin Sands, an American living in Korea in the early 1900s, attributes the story to a bored reporter who "undertook to confirm his theory of the power of the press by creating an incident, developed under the stimulus of none too good Canadian Club whiskey." In that, there may be some truth.

Horace Allen explained the resiliency of this story as having "suited the vaudeville taste of the rag-time portion of our great newspaper public." Perhaps it did, and even now it makes a great April Fools' story.

(For more information on Emily Brown, see "Korea Through Western Eyes")