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The American legation in Nagasaki in the early twentieth century. Robert Neff Collection |
By Robert Neff
According to her biography, when Rose and Lucius Foote left the American Legation for the last time on January 12, 1885, "the servants followed them for five miles moaning and crying at the loss of their beloved mistress."
Ensign George C. Foulk had mixed feelings. He viewed Minister Foote's departure as "a hasty scamper" to get out of Korea because he was afraid to live there. Foulk was also angry with the minister because he was leaving on the American warship U.S.S. Ossipee, "on a pleasure excursion to Japan, when he might go by merchant vessel."
He felt the U.S.S. Ossipee was the only protection the foreigners had in Seoul if trouble should occur. Adding insult to injury, "the General took away with him nearly all the necessaries for living." He also took with him his personal secretary Charles L. Scudder, the Japanese servant and his wife (she served as Rose's maid).
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The theater district in Yokohama in the late 19th century. Courtesy of Diane Nars Collection |
The Foote party arrived in Japan on February 17 and were entertained by the Emperor and Empress of Japan, who "cordially congratulated" the former American diplomat for "his humane and courageous conduct in protecting a number of the Japanese" residents in Seoul during the coup. Rose was also honored but received only a brief mention in the newspapers. However, Rose's biographer was more than generous in correcting this oversight:
"Her Majesty [the Japanese Empress] at once spoke to the United States Minister's lady expressing admiration for the courage and heroism she had shown in perilously remaining under her own flag and in assisting in the rescue of the oppressed. She warmly thanked her both personally and in the name of all of the women of the Empire for the great compassion that had been shown to her suffering people."
Of course, Rose, with characteristic modesty and dignity, accepted the praise and a beautiful tea set of porcelain cups and silver pots and saucers. This tribute, according to the biographer, "was regarded as one of the greatest honors conferred upon a woman in modern times."
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The entrance to a temple in Tokyo in the late 19th century. Robert Neff Collection |
They also took the opportunity to visit a temple where Rose, when she took off her shoes, was mortified to discover a small hole in her stocking. She was extremely upset by the hole and worried about it constantly ― the same woman whom Foulk charged with "being careless in exposing herself in a night dress or petticoats, etc." Lucius often repeated the anecdote and ended it with: "Thus was the gracious poise, which neither riot nor revolution could disturb quite put to rout by a hole in a stocking-heel!"
From Japan they traveled back to San Francisco where, shortly after their arrival, they were informed by the physicians that the strain of Korea had been too much for Rose. For six months she lingered but finally, on October 28, the strain became too much and she died quietly.
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The pier at Yokohama in the early 20th century. Courtesy of Diane Nars Collection |
At her funeral, Dr. Horatio Stebbins of the Unitarian Church, lauded her for winning over the conservative Korean queen with her spirituality and refusing proffered protection during the coup attempt; choosing to stand "steadfastly under [the American flag] at risk of her life and took the hounded and oppressed under the shadow of her wings."
While she lived, Rose's role in Korea was relatively unknown; all attention was concentrated on her husband. However, through the efforts of her good friend, she gained something her husband did not ― immortalized (very favorably) in her biography, "A Diplomat's Helpmate."
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The porcelain and silver set presented to Rose Foote by the Japanese Empress in 1885. Robert Neff Collection |