Emperor of Japan: Meiji and His World, 1852’1912 (103 page)

At his trial, Tsuda revealed that he had first decided to kill the Russian prince while on duty earlier that day at the Miidera. In order to get a better view of the scenery, Nicholas and George had climbed in their jinrikishas a hill known as Miyukiyama, or Imperial Visit Mountain, commemorating Meiji’s visit to the site in 1878. A monument stood there, erected to the memory of soldiers from
Ō
tsu who had died in the Satsuma Rebellion. Tsuda, seeing the inscription, contrasted his time of glory during the war with his present humble status as a policeman, and this aroused irritation with the foreign visitors. He thought of killing the Russian prince in order to dissipate his feelings of frustration. Just at this time two foreigners appeared. They showed not the slightest respect for the monument to the dead but asked the jinrikisha coolies about the scenery. Tsuda interpreted their questions as proof that they were engaged in spying, and his anger grew the more intense. He was not sure, however, which of the two foreigners was the Russian prince, so he decided to put off action, remembering the words of the police chief who had stressed to his men the importance to the emperor of the prince’s visit.
⁵²
Later, at Karasaki, he was close enough to assault Nicholas but delayed. But when Nicholas and his party were about to leave
Ō
tsu, Tsuda realized that this was his last chance, and if he allowed Nicholas to leave unscathed, he would one day return as an invader. This was why he struck.
⁵³

It was clear that Tsuda’s attack on the czarevitch had been premeditated. Almost everyone assumed that he would be speedily executed; the only question was under which provision of the criminal code this would be. The Genr
ō
and the cabinet ministers argued that unless Tsuda was executed, Russia would not be satisfied and that there was no telling what might happen. They were sure that Tsuda should be executed in order to satisfy the czar and the Russian people. Article
11
6 of the criminal code provided that anyone who attempted to kill the emperor, the empress, or the crown prince should be punished by death. The only question was whether this provision applied to foreign royalty.

On May
12
Prime Minister Matsukata and Minister of Agriculture and Commerce Mutsu Munemitsu summoned Kojima Korekata, the chief justice of the supreme court, and warned him of the danger of harming Russian feelings. Kojima replied that there was no reason to assume article 116 applied to a foreign prince, and he insisted on the authority of the law. But Matsukata said that only when a nation existed could there be laws, that it was folly to insist on the importance of the law and to forget the survival of the state. Mutsu pointed out that article 116 said only
tenn
ō
(emperor), not the
tenn
ō
of Japan, and therefore it applied to any monarch, regardless of country; but Kojima replied that when the Genr
ō
-in revised the penal code in 1880, they had deliberately not specified “emperor of Japan” because
tenn
ō
referred only to the Japanese sovereign. Kojima refused to budge.

On the following day Kojima met with the other judges of the supreme court. All agreed that
tenn
ō
referred exclusively to the emperor of Japan. The minister of justice threatened to impose martial law, which would take precedence over the penal code. On the same day the judge of the court in
Ō
tsu that was to try Tsuda reported that his crime should be dealt with in accordance with articles 292 and 112 of the penal code—the attempted murder of an ordinary person. The most severe penalty was life imprisonment.

This did not end the matter, and Kojima had to fight valiantly for the integrity of Japanese justice, answering every threat. He pointed out that under Russian law, an attempt on the life of the sovereign of another country was dealt with far more leniently than with an attempt on the czar and that under the German penal code, the penalty was merely one to ten years in prison. Committing Tsuda to prison for life would actually be a more severe punishment than in other countries.
⁵⁴
He insisted that if the law was bent to suit particular occasions, it would destroy the constitution. In response to warnings about what terrible vengeance the Russians would exact if Tsuda were not executed, he replied that Russia was not a barbarian country and that there was not the slightest indication that any act of vengeance was contemplated. Foreigners were constantly complaining about the inadequacies of the Japanese law and judges; now was the time to demonstrate Japanese respect for the law.

On May 20 Kojima and other judges of the supreme court visited the Gosho and received a rescript from the emperor: “The present incident relating to the Russian crown prince is of great importance to the nation. Using care, dispose of the matter promptly.” The interpretations of this oracular pronouncement differed conspicuously: some took “using care” as a warning not to provoke the Russians, whereas others thought the emperor meant that they must not tamper with the new constitution.
⁵⁵
Kojima interpreted the emperor’s command as meaning that he must oppose the cabinet’s efforts to bend article 116 to include foreign royalty.

Immense pressure was exerted on the seven judges who were to pass on the constitutionality of applying article 116 to Tsuda Sanz
ō
. Members of the cabinet approached judges from the same domain as themselves and seemed to have success in persuading them to vote to use article 116, but in the end the judges’ judicial conscience won out. Five of the seven judges were against using article 116. On May 24, the day before Tsuda’s trial was to begin, Kojima informed Yamada Akiyoshi, the minister of justice, that there was no possibility of applying article 116.

Yamada was greatly surprised, but Minister of the Interior Saig
ō
Tsugumichi was enraged. He demanded a detailed explanation from Kojima of the reasons for this decision. Kojima replied that the judges had simply respected the command from the emperor. Applying article 116 would break a statute of the penal code, violate the constitution, and leave a stain on the history of Japan that not a thousand years could expunge, a profanation of the imperial virtues. It would also leave the judges with a reputation for iniquity and insincerity.

Saig
ō
said, “I don’t know anything about legal arguments, but if we adopt the measures you propose, it will not only violate the emperor’s words but the Russian fleet will be swarming off Shinagawa, and with one shot, our empire will be blasted to smithereens. In such a case the law would be not a means of preserving the peace of the nation but a means of destroying the nation.” He added that the emperor was much grieved by this development, which was why he and the others had come, by command of the emperor. He asked Kojima if judges intended to refuse to obey even an imperial order. But Kojima still did not yield.
⁵⁶

When Yamada, Saig
ō
, and the others realized that there was no changing Kojima’s mind, they approached the other judges, but all managed to evade them. On May 25, as scheduled, the trial of Tsuda Sanz
ō
began. There was no difficulty in reaching a decision: Tsuda Sanz
ō
was sentenced to life imprisonment. When news of the verdict reached Russia, the authorities did not send a Russian fleet to bombard Shinagawa; in fact, the Russian minister informed the minister of foreign affairs that if the sentence had been death, the czar would have asked the emperor to exercise mercy.
⁵⁷
Tsuda was incarcerated in a Hokkaid
ō
prison where he died of pneumonia on September 30, 1891.
⁵⁸

The
Ō
tsu incident did not lead to war, as many in the government had feared. It is possible that as the result of the attempted assassination, Nicholas formed anti-Japanese prejudices that contributed to the Russo-Japanese War thirteen years later, but this has been disputed. The most important result of the incident was undoubtedly the strengthening of the Japanese judiciary, thanks to the courage of Kojima Korekata. He himself did not suffer because of his opposition to the politicians: in 1894 he was made a member of the House of Peers. His diary describing the
Ō
tsu incident, was banned in his day and was not published until 1931.
⁵⁹
Kojima is surely one of the heroes of modern Japanese history.

Even if foreigners living in Japan at the time showed sympathy for the wounded prince, they were still highly suspicious of the Russians. Dr. Baelz wrote that the Japanese were foolish to have ceded Sakhalin to Russia in 1875 and, as a sign of likely Russian aggression in the future, cited the building of an enormous Orthodox church at Surugadai, adding, “What makes this seem particularly absurd is that, apart from the legation staff, there are no Russians in T
ō
ky
ō
.”
⁶⁰

Perhaps the most sympathetic appraisal of the attempted assassination came from Lafcadio Hearn in a letter dated August 26, 1893, to his friend Nishida Sentar
ō
:

By the way, I think Tsuda Sanzo will be more kindly judged by a future generation. His crime was only “loyalty run mad.” He was insane for the moment with an insanity which would have been of the highest value in a good cause and time. He saw before him the living representative of the awful Power which makes even England tremble;—the power against which Western Europe has mustered an army of more than 1,500,000 of men. He saw, or thought he saw—(perhaps he really
did
see: time alone can show)—the Enemy of Japan. Then he struck—out of his heart, without consulting his head.
⁶¹

Chapter 43

The remainder of 1891, once the excitement of the
Ō
tsu incident had died down, was relatively tranquil. The most important political change occurred while the czarevitch Nicholas was still in Ky
ū
sh
ū
: Yamagata Aritomo announced his intention of resigning his post as prime minister. He had caught influenza during the epidemic in March, and although he had since recovered, he still did not feel himself. He recommended as his successor the president of the House of Peers, It
ō
Hirobumi. The emperor, having ascertained that it would not be possible to induce Yamagata to remain as prime minister, joined in the effort to persuade It
ō
to accept the post. It
ō
, who had submitted his resignation as president of the House of Peers, was traveling in the Kansai region when emissaries caught up with him and asked him to return to T
ō
ky
ō
.

On April 27 It
ō
had an audience with the emperor during which the emperor stated his intention of appointing him as prime minister. It
ō
refused the appointment. He recalled that when
Ō
kuma Shigenobu had proposed convening a parliament in 1881, he had opposed
Ō
kuma, believing that preparations were incomplete and the Japanese people were not yet sufficiently mature. He had proposed delaying the opening of a parliament until he had investigated the constitutions and political institutions of various foreign countries and was later authorized to make such a journey. After his return, the constitution was promulgated, followed by the convening of the first Diet; but the intellectual level of the people remained low, and it was truly difficult to carry out constitutional government. It
ō
was sure that no matter who might become prime minister, he would not long remain in office. If he himself was obliged to serve in that position, he might well be assassinated. He would have no special regrets about losing his unimportant life, but if he were killed, who would assist the imperial household and preserve the government?
¹

It
ō
suggested that either Interior Minister Saig
ō
Tsugumichi or Finance Minister Matsukata Masayoshi (1835–1924) would be suitable. On being informed of Saig
ō
’s unwillingness to accept the post, the emperor then chose Matsukata, who at first declined. The emperor refused to listen to his disclaimers, and Matsukata was sworn in as prime minister on May 6. The six months or so that he served in this capacity were marked by constant bickering in the Diet, leading in December to its dissolution and an election in the following year.

In July, Commodore Ting Ju-ch’ang, in command of the Chinese Northern Seas Fleet, had an audience with the emperor. The audience was marked by the customary exchange of “oriental” courtesies, but the six warships of the Chinese fleet (more powerful than any in the Japanese navy) inspired fear among some Japanese.