Emperor of Japan: Meiji and His World, 1852’1912 (102 page)

If not for his belief that the Japanese are an unpleasant, contemptible, and powerless people who could be destroyed at one blow from the Russian giant, we would not have adopted a policy in the Far East that led us into the unfortunate war with Japan.
²⁷

Witte’s own “hostility and contempt” for Nicholas II may have colored his account, but he knew his sovereign well and it is unlikely that he invented the prejudices he attributed to him. The incident at
Ō
tsu, trivial as it may seem at this distance, may have marked a significant step toward the Russo-Japanese War thirteen years later.

The reports to reach T
ō
ky
ō
of the attempted assassination were at first highly exaggerated. According to Mary Fraser, the very first message stated: “Two deep wounds on the head; recovery impossible.” Later, as additional telegrams came in, she was able to report, “He was very much hurt, poor young fellow; but not dangerously so, as in the terror of the moment somebody wired that he was.”
²⁸
But even when it had become clear that Nicholas would recover from his slight wounds, the shock to the Japanese was profound.

The primary emotion was probably fear. Many Japanese were convinced that the attack on the czarevitch would lead to war with Russia, a war in which Japan would be no match for the immense empire that stretched across Europe and Asia. There was also an awareness that a great blow had been dealt to Japanese prestige as a civilized, modern nation. Mary Fraser wrote about the attack:

Had it happened in Europe, it would have been looked upon as a great misfortune, but no more. No deductions would have been drawn from it; no enemies could have brandished its record in the stricken face of the nation to show that no civilised people should have friendship with her, that treaties were an absurdity, equality a dream. All that happened to poor Japan, smarting under the wound, to her the most bitter of all—a wound to her honour. The Emperor’s welcome guest had been betrayed.
²⁹

The first word of the incident at
Ō
tsu to reach Meiji was a telegram sent by Prince Takehito twenty minutes after the attack. It said that the Russian prince had suffered severe wounds and asked that the army surgeon General Hashimoto Tsunatsune be sent to the scene at once. An hour later Takehito sent a personal message to the emperor asking him to come to Ky
ō
to. The emperor, alarmed by the shocking event, conferred with the prime minister and other cabinet members. He sent Prince Yoshihisa at once to Ky
ō
to. He also ordered Dr. Hashimoto and several other doctors, including his personal physician, to go immediately to the wounded man’s side. He then informed Prince Takehito that he would go to Ky
ō
to himself early the next morning to see the czarevitch. Meiji also sent a telegram to Nicholas expressing grief and outrage over the attack on his “dear friend” and prayers for his speedy recovery. The czarevitch in reply regretted that he had caused the emperor to worry and stated that he felt surprisingly well. Meiji also sent a personal message to Alexander III informing him that his son had been wounded. The empress sent a similar message to the czarina.
³⁰

The emperor set out for Ky
ō
to as planned, leaving from Shimbashi Station at 6:30
A.M
. That night, soon after his arrival, he went to the hotel where the Russian prince was recovering from the attack and asked to see him. The Russian minister refused, explaining that a visit late at night would not be good for the patient. This must have been one of the rare occasions in Meiji’s life when a request of his was refused, but he did not insist, saying he would return the next morning. In the meantime, the doctors sent by the emperor had asked to examine the prince’s wounds, but they were refused by the Russian doctors, who said that there was nothing unusual about the wounds and that they did not wish to have the bandages removed. They said that the prince was unwilling to be examined by other doctors. On the following day when the Japanese doctors returned, they were again refused, and because the prince was moved that day to the
Pamiat Azova
, they were never allowed to examine him.
³¹

The next morning the emperor left the Gosho, where he had spent the night, and went to visit Nicholas at his hotel. He was met by Prince George, who led him to the wounded prince’s room. The emperor expressed his deep regrets over the incident and his sympathy for Nicholas’s parents, who, far from their son, were surely greatly worried. He assured the prince that the criminal would be promptly punished and expressed the hope that the prince, as soon as he recovered from his wounds, would visit T
ō
ky
ō
and see scenic spots elsewhere in Japan. Nicholas replied that the slight wounds he had received would not cause any change in his gratitude for the many kindnesses shown him by the emperor and the Japanese people. As for a visit to T
ō
ky
ō
, he would have to await orders from home.
³²

That day Nicholas was moved from Ky
ō
to to K
ō
be; by command of his mother, he was to recuperate aboard the
Pamiat Azova
. When the emperor learned that the prince was returning to his ship, he was shocked, realizing this meant the prince would not visit T
ō
ky
ō
. He sent It
ō
Hirobumi to ask the Russian minister to persuade the prince to remain in Japan. The minister explained the Russian people’s great fears for the prince’s safety and, in particular, the czarina’s deep concern. Although the prince personally wished to go to T
ō
ky
ō
, he had no choice but to obey his parents. Finally, the minister, in tears, begged It
ō
to ask the emperor to think of the prince as his own son and travel with him to K
ō
be in order to ensure his safety.
³³
It
ō
agreed to transmit the minister’s request and predicted that the emperor, in his supreme benevolence, would grant it.

Despite his disappointment, the emperor agreed to the minister’s request. His carriage called at the prince’s hotel, and they rode to the railway station. They boarded the imperial train (
omeshi ressha
) together, accompanied by Prince George and Prince Takehito. The train was heavily guarded, and the route that the party would take between the railway station and the harbor where the
Pamiat Azova
was anchored was lined with soldiers. In K
ō
be the emperor accompanied the czarevitch as far as the pier, where they shook hands.

This was not the last time the two men met. On May 16 Nicholas sent Meiji a letter informing him that he was obliged to leave Japan on the nineteenth by command of his father.
³⁴
The emperor invited Nicholas to lunch in K
ō
be on the nineteenth, but he replied that his doctors had advised against his leaving the ship. Nicholas in turn invited the emperor to lunch aboard the
Pamiat Azova
, and the emperor accepted. When word of the invitation reached members of the cabinet, they were appalled. They remembered how the
taewon’gun
of Korea had been abducted by the Chinese, carried off on a ship, and kept a prisoner in China for three years. They were sure that the Russians (who had more ships in K
ō
be harbor than the Japanese) would carry off their emperor. The emperor calmly replied to their protests that he would go nevertheless: the Russians were not barbarians, how could they do anything of the kind the ministers feared?

On May 18 the emperor, accompanied by Princes Taruhito and Yoshihisa, boarded the Russian ship. The meal went well. The Russian minister later reported that he had never heard the emperor laugh so loudly. The emperor apologized for the incident at
Ō
tsu, to which the czarevitch responded that there were lunatics in every country and that in any case his wounds were slight, nothing to cause the emperor worry. They both observed the Russian custom of smoking during the meal, each offering the other a cigarette.
³⁵
The emperor left the ship at two that afternoon, and the ship sailed for Vladivostok a few hours later. By command of the emperor, Prince Yoshihisa, aboard the
Yaeyama
, saw off the Russian ship as far as Shimonoseki.
³⁶

The visit to the ship had passed without incident. Probably it did much to bring the two men together and erase painful memories from Nicholas’s mind. It had required considerable courage on the emperor’s part, showing once again his determination to do what he thought necessary, regardless of his ministers’ opinions.

In the meantime, national agitation over the incident had mounted. Perhaps the most deeply affected person was the empress. Mrs. Fraser wrote:

Meanwhile there was one person who could do nothing to help the poor young Prince or to punish his assailant; the valiant gentle Empress forgot all the repressions of her up-bringing, all the superb calm which as a part of her rank she had shown in every circumstance of her life, and for the whole of that wretched night walked up and down, up and down, weeping her heart out in a flood-tide of grief … her only thought was for the boy—and his mother.
³⁷

The whole of Japan seems to have grieved. Lafcadio Hearn began “Yuko: A Remembrance” with this passage:

Strange stillness in the city, a solemnity as of public mourning. Even itinerant venders utter their street cries in a lower tone than is their wont. The theaters, usually thronged from early morning until late into the night, are all closed. Closed also every pleasure-resort, every show—even the flower-displays. Closed likewise all the banquet-halls. Not even the tinkle of a samisen can be heard in the silent quarters of the geisha. There are no revellers in the great inns; the guests talk in subdued voices. Even the faces one sees upon the street have ceased to wear the habitual smile; and placards announce the indefinite postponement of banquets and entertainments.
³⁸

Hearn went on to describe the “universal spontaneous desire to repair the wrong.” Rich and poor stripped themselves of their most valued heirlooms, their most precious household treasures, in order to send them to the
Pamiat Azova
.

Hearn was moved most of all by “a serving-maid named Yuko, a samurai name of other days, signifying ‘valiant.’” He wrote,

Forty millions are sorrowing, but she more than all the rest. How and why no Western mind could fully know. Her being is ruled by emotions and by impulses of which we can guess the nature only in the vaguest possible way.
³⁹

On May 20 Yuko stabbed herself to death in front of the prefectural office in Ky
ō
to. She was twenty-seven. On her body, people found letters, one (in Hearn’s words) “praying that the Tenshi-Sama may be petitioned to cease from sorrowing, seeing that a young life, even though unworthy, has been given in expiation of the wrong.”
⁴⁰
A monument was later erected to her memory.
⁴¹

People from all over the country sent gifts to the
Pamiat Azova
, so many that “it seemed likely to sink with gifts.”
⁴²
There were tens of thousands of messages sent to the prince conveying the shame and regret of the Japanese people over the incident.
⁴³

In contrast to the overpowering sympathy expressed for the Russian prince, the Japanese had nothing but hatred for Tsuda Sanz
ō
, the would-be assassin. The village of Kanayama in Yamagata Prefecture even passed an ordinance prohibiting anyone living in the village from bearing the surname Tsuda or the personal name Sanz
ō
.
⁴⁴
Tsuda, although only a policeman, was of a samurai family that had served the daimyos of Iga in the hereditary capacity of physicians. Sanz
ō
was born in the twelfth month of 1854 (or late January 1855 by the solar calendar).
⁴⁵
He had attended the domain school where as a samurai boy he studied the Chinese classics and the military arts. In 1872 he entered the army and subsequently served with distinction in the Satsuma Rebellion, winning a seventh-class decoration and a promotion to sergeant.
⁴⁶
In 1882 he was demobilized and became a policeman, at first in Mie and later in Shiga Prefecture. People remembered him as an unsociable man of few words.
⁴⁷

The question immediately arouse as to Tsuda’s motivation. Dr. Baelz offered the simplest explanation:

Probably the offender was only a sort of Herostratus, craving for notoriety.
⁴⁸
There can be no doubt, however, that the Japanese hatred of the Russians, which has gradually been increasing for several years, must have played a contributory part. Russia is continually expanding, and swallows up her smaller neighbours. This makes the Japanese anxious.
⁴⁹

Other sources mention Tsuda’s indignation over the ceding of Sakhalin to the Russians; his conviction that the Russian prince had come to Japan as a spy, in preparation for invading the country; and his anger that Nicholas had gone to Nagasaki and Kagoshima to amuse himself instead of proceeding first to T
ō
ky
ō
for an audience with the emperor.
⁵⁰
The most intriguing explanation of Tsuda’s motivation originated in the rumor that Saig
ō
Takamori, who had not really died, had returned to Japan with the Russians. Tsuda, who had fought in the Satsuma Rebellion, did not welcome Saig
ō
’s return. He even feared that he might be deprived of the honors he had won during the war.
⁵¹