A Tense Prelude to Imperial Diplomacy

In late 19th-century East Asia, Russia and Japan stood at a crossroads of imperial ambitions. Against this backdrop, Crown Prince Nicholas Romanov (later Tsar Nicholas II) planned an unprecedented world tour, with Japan as his final destination in 1891. This visit was not merely ceremonial—St. Petersburg saw it as crucial for negotiating Russia’s expanding interests in Northeast Asia. However, an unexpected incident on November 29, 1890, at the Russian legation in Tokyo nearly derailed these carefully laid plans and exposed simmering tensions beneath Japan’s rapid modernization.

The Meiji government, still reeling from recent political violence—including the 1889 assassinations of Education Minister Mori Arinori and the bombing that cost Foreign Minister Ōkuma Shigenobu his leg—faced intense pressure to guarantee the safety of foreign dignitaries. When Russian envoy Dmitry Shevich formally requested security assurances from Foreign Minister Aoki Shūzō, neither anticipated that a spontaneous act of public disorder would escalate into a diplomatic showdown with lasting consequences for Russo-Japanese relations.

The Day the Stones Flew: Anatomy of an International Incident

The incident unfolded against the ceremonial backdrop of Japan’s first Imperial Diet session. As Emperor Meiji’s procession returned from the wooden Diet building in Hibiya, crowds gathered near the Russian Legation (modern-day Ministry of Finance site). Eyewitness accounts from a Russian woman doctor stationed at the legation provide vivid details:

European diplomats had gathered at the envoy’s residence when the disturbance erupted near the legation’s ornamental hill and pavilion, where Russian women watched the imperial procession. When Emperor Meiji noticed the envoy’s wife and doffed his hat in greeting, someone in the crowd hurled stones toward the pavilion. A Russian attendant foolishly retaliated by throwing stones back, triggering a dangerous volley that forced the women to flee for their lives. As the mob attempted to breach the legation gates, armed police barely restored order.

Japanese newspapers corroborated these events, though authorities quickly released two arrested suspects—a 23-year-old youth and a carpenter—without trial. Shevich protested both the lax handling and Japanese police claims that Russians had initiated the stone-throwing. The diplomatic records reveal heated exchanges, with Russian officials suspecting involvement of shishi (radical nationalist activists from the Freedom and People’s Rights Movement).

Imperial Reactions and Escalating Demands

Tsar Alexander III’s handwritten marginalia on Shevich’s report—”Such xenophobic malice occurring as our crown prince prepares to visit Japan gives me pause”—set the tone for Russia’s hardening stance. Shevich renewed demands for ironclad security guarantees, initiating a tense correspondence with Aoki that would last months.

The Japanese foreign minister, a Chōshū native educated in Germany during the Meiji Restoration, found himself navigating treacherous diplomatic waters. After the later Ōtsu Incident (where Nicholas survived an assassination attempt), Shevich would remind Aoki of their earlier exchanges:

“Given Japan’s unstable conditions, we explicitly asked whether you could guarantee the crown prince’s safety during his visit. You assured us… After the November 29 incident, we sought renewed assurances, which you again provided…”

Archival documents show Shevich growing increasingly alarmed by Japan’s inability to control radical elements. His January 8, 1891 secret memorandum urged Aoki to suppress inflammatory articles in the journal Ten-soku advocating attacks on foreigners, while again demanding safety guarantees. Aoki’s January 20 reply struck conciliatory tones—emphasizing Emperor Meiji’s enthusiasm for the visit and promising press censorship—but avoided concrete security commitments.

Legal Reforms as Diplomatic Currency

The crisis exposed gaps in Japan’s legal framework for protecting foreign dignitaries. In a pivotal January 31 classified letter, Aoki admitted Japan lacked statutes criminalizing offenses against foreign envoys. He proposed a legislative solution—new penal code articles (151 and 156) prescribing up to two years’ imprisonment for insulting foreign heads of state or diplomats—while urging Russia to accept this as satisfactory resolution.

Shevich’s grudging February 6 acceptance masked deepening mistrust. His February 8 cable to St. Petersburg accused Japan of negotiating in bad faith, expecting Russia to settle for symbolic gestures. The Russian press, however, showed surprising restraint; liberal journal Russian Thought even praised Japan’s democratic progress under European influence—a veiled critique of Tsarist autocracy.

Cultural Fault Lines and Misunderstood Protocols

The incident revealed cultural misunderstandings with lasting repercussions. The Russian doctor’s memoir highlights confusion over Japanese protocols—initially baffled by the attack, she later learned Japanese custom forbade overlooking imperial processions from elevated positions, suggesting the pavilion spectators may have unintentionally provoked the crowd.

This cultural dimension compounded diplomatic tensions. While Japanese authorities dismissed the stone-throwing as an isolated outburst, Russian officials interpreted it as symptomatic of broader anti-foreign sentiment—a perception that would color Nicholas’ later reign and influence Russo-Japanese relations up to the 1904-1905 war.

Legacy: From Diplomatic Crisis to Historical Turning Point

The unresolved tensions from this incident cast long shadows. When police constable Tsuda Sanzō attacked Nicholas during the 1891 Ōtsu Incident, Russia saw it as validation of their earlier warnings. The Japanese government’s desperate damage control—including unprecedented imperial apologies and Tsuda’s harsh sentence—couldn’t erase Russian suspicions.

Historically, this episode marked a pivot in Russo-Japanese relations from cautious cooperation toward confrontation. The legal reforms Japan implemented to appease Russia later constrained its diplomacy with Western powers. For Nicholas, his near-martyrdom in Japan (and the katana scar he carried) reportedly fueled lifelong distrust of Japanese intentions—a personal bias that may have influenced his disastrous Far Eastern policies.

The 1890 stone-throwing incident, often overshadowed by the more dramatic Ōtsu attack, remains significant as both a case study in cross-cultural diplomacy under pressure and a prologue to the geopolitical rivalries that would define early 20th-century East Asia. It encapsulates the fragile nature of Japan’s Meiji-era modernization—where imported institutions often clashed with domestic realities—and the perils of imperial powers misreading nationalist sentiments in emerging states.