“And what steps did you take? Seeing as you speak English, I assume you approached Ambassador Shevich.”
“Yes,” Ito said, and his voice for the first time seemed despondent. “And he told me they were watching closely to see how Tsuda would be punished. According to Shevich, if Tsuda escaped execution there was no telling how it would affect relations between our two nations.”
“I believe he made a similar threat this morning. Strange that he should repeat himself some four months after the incident occurred.”
“Not so strange.” Ito shook his head. “The matter appeared settled for a time. Then something occurred which we can’t seem to make sense of. Mr. Holmes! How relieved I would be if you could unravel this mystery.”
13
Ito firmly believed that the Meiji Restoration had allowed Japan to, however narrowly, escape Western force and colonial rule. But their nation now lacked the military strength needed to resist Russian advances. He worried that Russia would demand compensation for the incident, either in money or land.
Ambassador Shevich, in fact, had said as much. Shevich stated that if Prince Arthur had been attacked during his visit last year, England would have surely demanded either Shikoku or Kyushu in compensation. What choice can we have, he said, but to demand Hokkaido? However, if Sanzo Tsuda were to be sentenced to death, circumstances would of course be different…
Ito later learned that Foreign Minister Shuzo Aoki, acting independently, had made a secret agreement with Ambassador Shevich before Nicholas even arrived: If anything were to happen to Nicholas while in Japan, the perpetrator would be treated as if he had committed a crime against the Japanese imperial family itself.
So their options were limited. The Japanese government began approaching judges to oversee the trial. Under article 116 of the penal code, any who harmed the Emperor or his family were guilty of high treason. The death penalty, then, must also apply to Sanzo Tsuda.
Ito supported this move. He insisted decisive action—even martial law—would be required if public opinion turned against them. Prime Minister Matsukata, Minister of Internal Affairs Tsugumichi Saigo, and Minister of Justice Akiyoshi Yamada were all in agreement.
The Communications Minister, Shojiro Goto, suggested that abducting Tsuda and putting a bullet in him would be the best remedy for the situation. Ito grew angry. If the law could not punish Tsuda, then assassination was in order? Now was no time for such childishness. Such short-sighted thinking would see the return of the Bakufu! No, Tsuda must be sentenced to death in a court of law.
However, the head of the Supreme Court of Judicature, Korekata Kojima, opposed applying article 116.
He argued that the article applied only to the imperial family of Japan, and did not cover crimes committed against the imperial families of other countries. According to the law, royalty from foreign countries must be treated in the same manner as citizens. This did not permit a sentence of death for mere injury.
Goto gathered all of the judges the government had approached. He argued that a modern nation had to separate the judicial, executive, and legislative branches. The Japanese judiciary was entirely independent, and must not be subjected to any influence from the state. If not, other countries would assume Japan to be an untrustworthy nation, ready and willing to break its own laws. Could such a thing be allowed?
The judges who had originally been leaning toward the death penalty revised their stance in response to Goto’s appeal. They flatly rejected a request for a meeting from Minister of Justice Yamada and Minister of Internal Affairs Saigo on grounds of impartiality.
They declared that if adhering to the law resulted in open war with Russia, the judges too would become soldiers and fight to defend Japan. But the independence of the judiciary must be preserved.
All of this occurred in May. On the 27th, Tsuda’s case received an unusually swift ruling. He was convicted of the attempted murder of an ordinary citizen, under article 292 of the penal code. The penalty was life in prison. He had evaded execution.
Ito was stunned. He and Saigo cornered Goto in his office, and Ito banged his fists on his desk. “You protect the law even if it means war!” he’d shouted.
Goto answered him quietly: “Whether or not there will be war is up to the government.” As with the other judges, if there was to be war he promised to join the effort.
The Meiji government was populated with people from the former Choshu and Satsuma domains. Goto, however, hailed from the Iyo-Uwajima Domain. He would not be cowed.
Immediately after the Tsuda trial, Saigo took responsibility and resigned. In June, Minister of Justice Yamada resigned as well, citing illness. Naturally Foreign Minister Aoki, who had complicated the case with his secret promise with Ambassador Shevich, had already been demoted.
Shevich was outraged when he learned that Tsuda had only been sentenced to life imprisonment, and began making preparations to leave Japan along with the other members of the Russian legation. In short, Ito thought, they were preparing for war. Undoubtedly the Russian Emperor had given orders. Alexander III had been watching the trial closely as well, and had also wished for the death penalty for Tsuda.
The Japanese Navy prepared for potential battle. Batteries were stationed along the coast, and warships were deployed to the Sea of Japan. Members of the government began suggesting, once again, that Tsuda should be assassinated. Ito was at his wit’s end.
The Choshu Domain had, not so long ago, plunged foolishly into a war with Britain, America, France, and the Netherlands. It felt as if that nightmare were repeating itself. Back then, Ito had raced back from London in an attempt to negotiate peace, but he had succeeded in changing nothing. To make matters worse, it had been Shinsaku Takasugi who had fended off unreasonable demands from the Great Powers after the Choshu War. But Shinsaku Takasugi was no longer with them.
When a missive arrived from Russia, signed by both the government and the court, Ito steeled himself for a declaration of war. But when he read its contents, he sighed in relief.
The letter noted that as Tsuda’s decision had been reached in accordance with Japanese law, Russia could only be satisfied with the sentence. So Russia had accepted the results of the trial. There was not even a demand for monetary compensation or land. War in the Far East had been averted, thanks to the forbearance and generosity of that formidable nation.
“Indeed,” Sherlock murmured. “This is most curious.”
“I have yet to reach the puzzling part of the matter,” Ito said.
“No, there is something in this that does not sit well. Russia battles Britain for supremacy in the Far East. The events you describe have given them an ideal pretext by which to invade Japan. Likely Shevich did in fact receive orders to return to Russia. What could have inspired the change in the expected course?”
“Perhaps you should read the papers from the days after the attack? Directly before Tsarevich Nicholas returned to Russia, there was a huge outpouring of letters and gifts from Japanese citizens to the Russian warships. Crowds kneeled in prayer at the port where ships were moored. We were told that Tsarevich Nicholas was deeply moved. You laughed earlier, but the incident of the woman who committed suicide was widely reported, and I believe helped earn international sympathy. The Tsarevich even ran a letter of thanks in the newspapers, under the name of his aide-de-camp Prince Baryatinsky.”
“The Crown Prince may have taken a generous view, but I doubt his father, Alexander III, is quite so magnanimous,” Sherlock refuted bluntly. “Alexander II was assassinated by a terrorist’s bomb. Ascending to the throne after such violence, Alexander III has ascribed to a belief that peace is less a sentiment as it is a state to achieve through force. He has rejected the diplomatic approach of his father, who valued friendship with the Germans, and has instead adopted the same anti-German sentiments as the Slavophiles.”