That old saw is true: history is stranger than either truth or fiction.

For example, did you know about Japan's infamous "Dog Shogun" and his dodo? Or that the Japanese word "zettou" means "lonely island?" You're not alone.

Except for an excess of born-in curiosity, there is absolutely no good reason for this piece of hard-won truth.

Okay, I've also got a soft spot for underdogs; if you can think of a better underdog than a much ridiculed flightless bird made extinct by humans, please let me know.

Finally, a warning: if this reads a little like a history text, that's because the screenplay isn't quite finished yet.

    

From impending stardom to total oblivion in less than week: this is the true story of the last dodo. It occurred, of all places, in Japan, a mere 6,000 nautical miles (more or less) from the small Indian Ocean island of Mauritius where raphus cucullatus lived out its lifespan as a species.

Of the trading nations that had established commerce with Japan in the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, only the Dutch managed to maintain a relationship through the end of the seventeenth century. The shoguns of the Tokugawa period were becoming more and more anti-foreign, owing in part to the continued propagation of aggressive Christianity by the Spaniards and the Portuguese. Christianity was officially outlawed in Japan during the 1630s.

The British were first to go; they departed voluntarily after only ten years, closing their unprofitable Hirado factory in 1623. The Spaniards were given their unwelcome papers in 1624. The Portuguese managed to maintain their profitable trade for a time longer, but under increasing restriction. In 1638, after most of a special mission from Macao pleading for continued trade were sent home sans heads, the Portuguese abandoned Japan. The Dutch East India Company remained but was restricted to a tiny artificial island called Deshima in Nagasaki Harbor, which was under direct Tokugawa rule.

Exactly once each year a Dutch mission was allowed to travel to Edo (or Yedo, the former name of Tokyo) to offer presents to the shogun and his court. They were often subject to ridicule and humiliation during these missions, but were helpless to do anything but tolerate the abuse. In 1681, the Dutch mission was anxious to impress the new shogun and brought a most remarkable present: the last dodo.

the gift of timing

It is said that timing is everything. In the case of the gift of the last dodo, it happens to be true.

In 1677, three of the few remaining dodos on Mauritius were unwilling passengers on a Dutch trading ship. The ship's name is unknown, but it is believed to have set sail from Grant Port near present day Mahébourg on the southeastern side of Mauritius in May of 1677. There were two males and one female. Both males died somewhere between Mauritius and Japan, but the young female arrived safely at Deshima later that year. The leader of the Dutch mission was anxious to present his unique if ungainly gift prior to his retirement the following year, but was persuaded otherwise by circumstance and by his successor, a man named Van Neck.

The political situation was volatile: the shogun Iyetsuna was an invalid and in failing health, and his appointed regent, Sakai, had ambitions that ran counter to Dutch interests. But on the horizon was Iyetsuna’s youngest son, Tsunayoshi, who was thought likely to be a more favorable ruler if only his succession could be assured. Dutch intelligence reports suggested that Sakai had other plans for the somewhat erratic Tsunayoshi. To counter potential further erosion of the Dutch East India Company's already waning fortunes, the Dutch initiated countermeasures.

When Iyetsuna died uneventfully in 1680, Sakai promptly proposed to revert to a practice of the old Kamakura period and install an imperial prince as shogun. As the Japanese royal family had little interest in administration, Sakai would thus keep his role as regent. It is not know for certain whether or not invisible Dutch "financial influence" undermined his position, but Sakai did not prevail and was forced to retire. At the age of 34, Tsunayoshi became shogun. For reasons we shall soon see, the Dutch were delighted with this outcome. At first.

enter the dogmatic shogun

Tsunayoshi was a remarkable man, well schooled in both Confucian and Buddhist precepts. Born in the Year of the Dog, Tsunayoshi came to believe he had been a dog in an earlier incarnation. He kept thousands of dogs and collected exotic pets. Allegedly, it was his wholehearted adoption of Buddhist proscriptions against animal cruelty that ultimately led him to issue his decree making it a crime to either kill or maim animals of any sort, and a capital crime to kill a dog.

Tsunayoshi's other passion was theatre.

Thus did the Dutch see their opportunity to cement relations with the new regime. In addition to making a gift of the surviving dodo, the Dutch communicated an idea for a noh-gaku drama (a sort of staid, ceremonial drama with minimal action that had been popular with the noble houses for several centuries). The play was to be of the kichiku ("demon") variety, and both dogs and dodos would play important roles.

The Dutch mission was laughed out of the shogun’s court (they had been required to act out an impromptu scene with a dodo and a dog), but Tsunayoshi happily kept the dodo.

Actually, he took pity on the solitary bird. Tsunayoshi named her Zettou, which means "lonely island" and came to believe her ungainly form was the result of a demon’s curse. Did he believe, as some have suggested, that Zettou's true form was that of a winsome maiden? We may never know.

What is known is that several years after Zettou became part of his vast animal entourage, Tsunayoshi commissioned an entire cycle of new plays. The five dramas constituted the five traditional noh varieties that are customarily presented in sequence during a day of theatre. The plays would be presented on Tsunayoshi's birthday (February 23) in the year 1687. The shogun himself would be one of the actors.

In itself, the shogun's direct participation is not remarkable; amateur actors from the noble houses could act in noh dramas (unlike, say, the more lurid kabuki dramas) without losing face. And Tsunayoshi himself was an enthusiastic actor who particularly loved to perform roles where he wore masks of gods or demons. What had the upper classes of Edo in ferment were the unconfirmed rumors that the much-storied Zettou herself was to appear onstage during the fourth play, which was to be in the kyojo mono ("mad-woman") mode.

the island must go on

Zettou had never been actually seen in public, so many regarded even the idea of a 50-pound flightless bird as nothing more than a figment. Several informal accounts suggest that more than one member of a noble family died in quarrels over invitations to this singular event.

Tetsuo was the name of the page who served as Zettou's chief attendant. All we know about him was that he was a young man, probably in his early 20s. Possibly he had a volatile disposition. Tetsuo had been entrusted with the job of training Zettou for her walk-on part.

Preparations for the dramatic birthday party were well under way when Zettou abruptly expired exactly three days prior to the event. Nothing is known about the circumstances, but we can guess that she may have succumbed to excessive consumption of rich foodstuffs (it was obviously important that she appear well-fed on stage), excessive stress from overenthusiastic instruction, or both.

Regardless of his true culpability, Tetsuo, of course, was blamed; Tsunayoshi, of course, was enraged. To minimize embarrassment to the shogun, the entire event was abruptly cancelled; the notion that "the show must go on" evidently did not apply to the dramatic productions of shoguns. Tsunayoshi is thought to have celebrated his 41st birthday in seclusion with only his treasured Confucian and Buddhist tracts to entertain him.

a well-scrubbed extinction

The power of Tsunayoshi’s shogunate was such that everything pertaining to the last dodo was promptly scrubbed from the public record. The dodo officially became a "never-happened" event. Tsunayoshi’s noh plays were never performed and the cast members were strongly encouraged to silence. The public beheading of the unfortunate Tetsuo for the allegedly wanton and brutal killing of a dog was merely a symbolic message to all involved; the shogun was very serious indeed.

Thus did Zettou, the last dodo, disappear from recorded history.
Later that year, Tsunayoshi signed into law his famous decree requiring the death penalty for anyone harming a dog, and thus earned the enduring sobriquet Dog Shogun. Perhaps this decree spared Tsunayoshi from going down in history as the Dodo Shogun.

 

© copyright 2003 by E. T. Ellison. All rights reserved.

 



Biosphere
Bittah Blue
Fringe Guitar
Pizza History

Reciprocity
The Last Dodo
The Santa Whisperer

 

 

HOME | INTRO | NEWS | ABOUT | CLIENTS | CATEGORIES | EXAMPLES | MISC | CONTACT