A Clash of Schedules and Imperial Pride
In 1891, Crown Prince Nicholas of Russia (later Tsar Nicholas II) embarked on a grand tour of East Asia, including stops in China and Japan. What should have been a routine diplomatic visit quickly spiraled into a test of patience for Li Hongzhang, the influential Qing statesman overseeing China’s foreign affairs. The Russian delegation’s repeated changes to their itinerary—particularly their stay in China—drew sharp criticism from Li, who had already rescheduled a naval review to accommodate them.
Frustrated, Li famously remarked, “We have our own schedules to keep! The naval review was moved forward, and now they demand another change? Outrageous!” The logistical challenges were immense: welcoming the Russian heir required a naval escort, yet funds earmarked for the military had been diverted to construct the Summer Palace for Empress Dowager Cixi. Li, forced to finance the visit himself, grew increasingly irritable—even returning the prince’s portrait to the Russian consulate in a fit of pique.
The Geopolitical Undercurrents of the Visit
Officially, Crown Prince Nicholas’s tour was framed as a goodwill mission to strengthen ties and broaden the future tsar’s horizons. Yet suspicions abounded. The presence of Russian warships fueled theories of espionage, particularly in Japan, where officials feared the visit masked reconnaissance of strategic ports and coastlines.
In China, however, the public remained largely indifferent—not out of apathy, but due to underdeveloped news networks. The visit was a matter for bureaucrats, not the masses. By contrast, Japan’s more open press buzzed with speculation. One fringe newspaper even claimed that Saigō Takamori, the legendary rebel presumed dead in 1877, had secretly fled to Russia and would return with the crown prince!
Mainstream outlets like The Tokyo Nichi-Nichi Shimbun dismissed such rumors but warned against inflaming tensions: “To cast baseless suspicions on a distinguished guest undermines neighborly relations.” The article, published weeks before Nicholas’s arrival, hinted at Japan’s volatile political climate—a prescient observation.
The Otsu Incident: A Diplomatic Earthquake
On May 11, 1891, the tour took a violent turn in Ōtsu, Japan, when a police officer, Tsuda Sanzō, slashed Nicholas with a saber. Though the wound was superficial, the attack sent shockwaves through diplomatic circles. Emperor Meiji personally visited Nicholas in Kyoto, escorting him to Kobe for safe passage home.
The incident exposed Japan’s deep-seated anxieties about Russia. Since the Meiji Restoration, expansion into Korea had been seen as vital to national security—placing Russia, with its own ambitions in Northeast Asia, on a collision course with Tokyo. As Li Hongzhang later wrote, Japan’s “factional unrest” and frequent assassinations (including the 1889 killing of Education Minister Mori Arinori) painted a picture of instability. Yet this perception led Qing officials to underestimate Japan’s modernization—a critical miscalculation.
The Aftermath: Missteps and Missed Opportunities
In June 1891, Li Hongzhang dispatched the Beiyang Fleet to Japan under Admiral Ding Ruchang, ostensibly for a “friendship visit.” Though framed as diplomacy, the show of force—featuring battleships like the Dingyuan and Zhenyuan—was interpreted by Japan as intimidation. Yet Ding’s savvy public relations, including banquets for lawmakers and journalists, temporarily softened tensions. The Tokyo Nichi-Nichi Shimbun praised his “enlightened respect for Japan’s democratic institutions.”
Meanwhile, in Korea, China’s resident diplomat Yuan Shikai thwarted Japanese loan negotiations, insisting Seoul could secure better terms from Beijing. This move reinforced Qing dominance but deepened Korean resentment—a fissure Japan would later exploit.
Legacy: The Fatal Blind Spots of Empire
The 1891 crisis revealed three fatal flaws in Qing diplomacy:
1. Prioritizing Protocol Over Strategy: Li’s focus on ceremonial slights (like the returned portrait) distracted from Russia’s long-term ambitions.
2. Misreading Japan: Dismissing Meiji Japan as “chaotic” blinded the Qing to its rapid military and industrial growth.
3. Overextension in Korea: Yuan’s heavy-handed tactics in Seoul sowed the seeds of the 1894 Sino-Japanese War.
When war came, the Beiyang Fleet—once paraded as a symbol of Qing might—was annihilated at the Battle of the Yalu River. The Russian crown prince’s visit, a footnote in European histories, had been a harbinger of imperial collapse.
For modern observers, the episode underscores a timeless lesson: in diplomacy, perception is as deadly as firepower. The Qing saw rituals; Japan saw vulnerabilities. By the time Beijing realized its mistake, the century was already lost.