A Grand Tour with Geopolitical Undertones

In the spring of 1891, Tsarevich Nicholas Alexandrovich of Russia—future Emperor Nicholas II—embarked on an ambitious Eastern voyage that would weave together imperial pageantry, cross-cultural fascination, and an assassination attempt with lasting diplomatic consequences. His itinerary through Siam (Thailand), China, and Japan occurred against the backdrop of Great Power rivalries in Asia, where Russia’s expanding Trans-Siberian Railway project and French colonial ambitions in Indochina created a tense geopolitical landscape.

Nicholas’s five-day stay in Bangkok from March 20 revealed these undercurrents. King Rama V, seeking Russian support to counter French dominance in eastern Indochina, hosted lavish receptions and even accompanied the Tsarevich’s departure by ship—a rare honor. The King’s announcement to send his brother Damrong to St. Petersburg that August hinted at Siam’s strategic courtship of Russia. Yet for the 23-year-old Nicholas, this remained primarily a voyage of exotic discovery, guided by geographer Prince Ukhtomsky’s vision of Russia’s “civilizing mission” in Asia.

Enchantment in Japan: From Nagasaki’s Shores to Imperial Tensions

Arriving in Nagasaki on April 27 (Julian calendar April 15), Nicholas found a port city already shaped by Russo-Japanese exchange. As the winter anchorage for Russia’s Pacific Fleet, Nagasaki’s streets echoed with Russian cheers from the troopship Oryol, carrying 1,400 conscripts to Vladivostok. The Tsarevich’s diary marveled at the cleanliness of Japanese homes and the surprising prevalence of Russian speakers. His tourist pursuits—including a seven-hour tattoo session to ink a dragon on his right arm—reflected a traveler enthralled by what he called “this land of dreams.”

Yet beneath the ceremonial welcomes, Japanese society simmered with anxiety. Rumors swirled that Nicholas’s visit presaged Russian invasion, exacerbated by wild theories like the purported return of Saigō Takamori—the legendary rebel leader allegedly sheltered by Russia after the 1877 Satsuma Rebellion. Newspapers like Tokyo Asahi Shimbun struggled to calm public fears, publishing editorials urging rationality: “Why must we tremble at the Siberian Railway’s progress or the Tsarevich’s tour? Shouldn’t we welcome improved Eurasian trade?”

The Ōtsu Incident: A Sword Strike That Shook Two Empires

The tension erupted violently on May 11 (April 29 O.S.) in Ōtsu, a lakeside town near Kyoto. As Nicholas’s rickshaw procession turned down a narrow lane, police guard Tsuda Sanzō suddenly slashed at the Tsarevich’s head with his saber. Nicholas’s chilling diary account describes his desperate flight past panicked onlookers until his cousin Prince George of Greece subdued the assailant. The wounds—one 9 cm long—left permanent scars, yet Nicholas remarkably retained his affection for Japan: “I still love everything Japanese… One madman’s act doesn’t make me angry at this kind people.”

The attacker, a decorated veteran of the Satsuma Rebellion, embodied Japan’s neuroses about Russia. His belief that Nicholas harbored Saigō reflected broader paranoia about Russian expansion. The incident triggered national hysteria: a woman committed ritual suicide to atone for Japan’s “shame,” while villages banned the names “Tsuda” and “Sanzō.”

Judicial Independence vs. Imperial Diplomacy

Japan’s government, fearing Russian retaliation, pressured courts to execute Tsuda under laws protecting foreign royalty—a legal stretch. Justice Minister Kojima Korekata’s refusal became a landmark defense of judicial independence, resulting in Tsuda’s life sentence. Russia’s outrage (Foreign Minister Giers called Japan “weak” and “not master of its house”) nearly derailed relations until pragmatic diplomats softened the tone.

Legacy: From Tattoos to Geopolitical Tremors

Nicholas departed on May 19 without visiting Tokyo, leaving his impression of Japan frozen in a romanticized pre-modern tableau—a perception that may have influenced his later underestimation of Japanese power. The Ōtsu Incident’s aftermath saw symbolic reparations: monuments erected, rickshaw drivers decorated, and Tsuda dying mysteriously in prison within months.

Historically, the episode foreshadowed the Russo-Japanese War’s psychological roots. For Nicholas, the dragon tattoo and scars became lifelong souvenirs of a journey where personal adventure intersected with the era’s imperial rivalries—a microcosm of how cultural fascination and geopolitical suspicion could coexist in the Age of Empire.