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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. |
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