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In the last decades of the 20th Century there was another development in the Canada–Japan relationship that has proved enduringly significant and emotionally resonant: we acquired our own treasured Prince and Princess.
Although never solemnized by any statute, given how the links between our Canadian community and Their Highnesses Prince and Princess Takamado have endured more than 40 years, through both countless celebrations and bitter tragedy… it is surely not presumptuous to call them “ours.” What’s more, Her Highness is fluent in both English and French—and how Canadian is that?
It all started in 1978 when Prince Takamado (third son of Prince Mikasa, younger brother of Emperor Hirohito) went to study law at Queen’s University in Kingston, Ontario. During his two years there he traveled far and wide in Canada and, by all accounts, fell in love with our land. Moreover, he became a hockey fan.
Returning to Tokyo, the Prince became a near neighbor of Canada’s embassy, living as he did across Aoyama-dori in the grounds of the Akasaka Detached Palace. And so he became a frequent guest at embassy receptions—which proved to be life-defining.
It was at a 1984 reception in the embassy’s official residence that the Prince happened to meet 29-year-old, Hisako Tottori, daughter of a Mitsui “shosha-man.” She had spent many of her formative years abroad, particularly in England—where she graduated from Cambridge in 1975, complete with an accent fully fit for a princess. Evidently it was love at first sight, or something close to it, for they were married later the very same year.
Throughout their marriage, the Imperial couple visited Canada several times and attended numerous Canada-related events, notably exhibits of Inuit art.
The Prince had developed an interest in Inuit art during his time in Canada. He spoke of his respect for the ability of Inuit artists to distill everyday life and mythology into tactile form, which he felt was akin to Japanese folk art. During two visits to the far north, he acquired numerous artworks, establishing what is likely Japan’s most extensive collection of Inuit sculpture and prints.
Every year from the mid-1980s through 2001, the Prince and Princess kindly graced the head table at the Chamber’s Maple Leaf Ball, lending our signature event an element of fairy-tale-like glamor and magic. As captured in this iconic photograph, watching the couple glide across the dance floor took our collective breath away.
All too soon though, tragedy struck.
Thanks to a standing invitation to use the embassy’s court, Prince Takamado became an avid squash player. And so it was that on November 21, 2002, while playing a match with Ambassador Robert Wright, he suffered a massive heart attack and died at the age of 47.
What utterly tragic irony this was. Given that the embassy premises are by law sovereign Canadian territory, this man who so valued his connection to our country drew his last breath on our soil. The shock to our community, and to the Japanese nation, was profound.
In his memory, the embassy’s art gallery was renamed in his honor and Toronto’s Royal Ontario Museum bestowed a similar honor.
Quite understandably, the Prince’s tragic demise might have spelled the end of our much-valued relationship. But bless her heart, Princess Takamado has not abandoned us. Two decades later, each year she continues to lend her gracious presence to our Maple Leaf Ball. She has made several visits to Canada in this century.
And she continues her links to Canada in other ways, such as writing a children’s book inspired by her Arctic experience, Lulie the Iceberg.
Your Highness, for all the love you and your dear husband have shown us, we remain deeply grateful.
