White Elephant of the 4th Imperial Rank

During the Edo era (1603-1867), Japan effectively closed its doors to the outside world. The Tokugawa shoguns had had enough of subversive European influences, such as Christianity, firearms, and suspicious Portuguese and Spanish traders. The third shogun, Iemitsu, slammed the door to all, except very limited, trade.

The Dutch were the only Westerners allowed access to Japan, and that through the highly controlled island port of Dejima in Nagasaki, on the southern island of Kyushu. 

The few other windows to the outside world were also tightly controlled: Satsuma, in the south, traded with the Kingdom of Ryukyu (modern-day Okinawa), and through them, surreptitiously with the Qing Chinese; the island of Tsushima traded with Korea; and Matsumae, in northern Honshu, traded with the Ainu—the indigenous people of Hokkaido and northeast Honshu; and by the late 17th century, the Qing Chinese were allowed to trade through their Chinese quarter in Nagasaki.

Yet, as the decades of self-imposed isolation passed, a desire and curiosity for things outside their world grew. In 1720, Shogun Tokugawa Yoshimune relaxed the prohibition on the import and translation of foreign books—except, of course, any Christian books.

His curiosity for the outside world piqued, Yoshimune made an unusual request.

He wanted elephants.

Shiro, the Asian elephant

A Qing Chinese merchant in Nagasaki arranged for two elephants to be shipped from Vietnam. A 7-year-old male Asian elephant, whom we shall call Shiro, and his intended mate, a 5-year-old female, along with their mahouts and two translators, spent 27 long days crowded into a specially built Chinese Junk traversing the South China Sea to Japan.

On June 7, 1728, the party came ashore at the port of Nagasaki. The elephants were paraded through the streets of Nagasaki, as shocked onlookers bustled and gasped at the wondrous sight of the magnificent beasts led by their “exotic” Vietnamese mahouts.

The elephants settled into a large stable that had been constructed for them and spent the summer recuperating from their voyage. The different climate and diet—particularly the excessive intake of Japanese sweets fed to her by her well-meaning, yet ignorant, hosts—did not bode well for the female. Just three months after arriving, she died.

The male elephant, Shiro, spent a lonely and cold winter in Nagasaki.

The long road to Edo

On March 13, 1729, Shiro set off on his 1,480 km trek to Edo, now Tokyo.

To make the elephant more comfortable during his long journey, the chief of shogunate finances, Inō Masatake, sent out various decrees. 

When the elephant passes, no one is to make loud noises, no temple bells are to be rung, and horses and cattle are forbidden from the streets. Small stones must be swept from the roads and sturdy boats for river crossing prepared. Large stables are to be constructed in the post towns through which the party will pass.

Sufficient feed is to be stored at regular intervals. At each overnight stop, the following food is to be prepared: 60 kg of straw, 90 kg of sasa bamboo leaves, 60 kg of grass, and 50 manju — steamed wheat buns filled with sweet bean paste.

On March 25, our intrepid pachyderm was ferried across the Kanmon Strait and set foot on the main island of Honshu.

Meanwhile, notifications had been sent from the Nagasaki magistrate to the various domains along Shiro’s route, informing them that they must guide the party to the shallowest places to ford rivers, and warning them that they may need to provide lodging at private residences if the beast could not make it to the next post town by dusk. These, and many other instructions, were sent to the domain leaders, who in turn passed them on to the next domain along the route, and on it went.

Elephants are not used to walking on cobblestones such as those paving the Edo-era roads of Japan. Despite the precautions of clearing the road of small stones, Shiro ran into trouble one week after reaching Honshu. He injured his leg and was in obvious pain as he limped along. A stable was quickly built for him where he was allowed to rest and recover.

While at this makeshift stable, he was visited by powerful and famous lords. Mōri of Tokuyama, Asano of Hiroshima, and Ikeda and his mother from Fukuyama. 

Recovery made, Shiro resumed his slow journey, reaching Osaka by April 20. After 3 nights’ rest, he set out for the imperial city of Kyoto.

White Elephant of the Fourth Imperial Rank

The street leading into the emperor’s city had been cleared two hours before Shiro’s passing, so throngs took to nearby fields and hills in hopes of catching a glimpse of this extraordinary sight.

In Kyoto, Shiro was housed at the Shōjyōkei-in temple not far from the Imperial Palace.

Just like everyone else, Emperor Nakamikado was eager to see him, but it would not be seemly for the son of heaven to visit a mere elephant. With no precedent, what could the emperor do? Only those of the highest aristocratic rank were allowed into the emperor’s presence. 

To solve this problem, the emperor bestowed upon Shiro the rank of fourth imperial rank, the same aristocratic level as the keeper of the imperial archives or the lieutenant-general of the imperial guards. This was no small honor!

With this impressive court rank, Shiro was granted permission to pass through the palace gates to meet the emperor.

A stage was built within the palace grounds for the elephant’s audience. When Emperor Nakamikado and his highest-ranking ministers and lords were gathered, our elephant made his appearance.

At 10 am, Shiro came before the stage, bent his front leg, and knelt, bowing his head respectfully before the 27-year-old emperor. The distinguished crowd gasped in awe and wonder.

At 11 am, he was led to the residence of Nakamikado’s father, the retired Emperor Reigen. There, to the astonishment of the assembled dignitaries, Shiro again bowed low, dipping his head nearly to the ground in respect to the elderly emperor.

Emperor Nakamikado was so moved that he wrote the following poem.

At this time

In the world of men

To meet such a beast

In the palace

Fills me with delight

Emperor Nakamikado

The teenage Itō Jyakuchū, 伊藤若冲, a merchant’s son who grew to become well-known for his colorful and realistic paintings of birds, must have been among the crowds who saw Shiro in Kyoto, as his delightful depictions of elephants betray.

The journey continues

On April 29, Shiro and his party headed east to Edo along the Tokaido, one of the two main roads connecting Kyoto with Edo. Passing through Nagoya, he stopped at the castle for an audience with the Lord of the Owari domain, Tokugawa Tsugutomo, and his vassals.

Making their way further east along the Tokaido, Shiro and his party were stopped by the furiously flowing Ōigawa River in Shizuoka. The current was too strong to allow for fording.

Excited local peasants gathered and made a human dam in several rows, shoulder to shoulder, legs spread, and stood in the river upstream. The improvised dam of their bodies broke the strong current. Shiro crossed in safety.

The Fuji River presented the next big obstacle.

This time, 1,900 men worked to create a pontoon bridge. Boats were anchored to posts drilled into the riverbed, then tied together spanning the width of the river. Boards were placed across the boats, creating a makeshift bridge for Shiro to cross.

New challenges arose as they crossed the mountain pass to Hakone. Midway up the slope, Shiro suddenly stopped. Four men gave it their best effort, but no matter how hard they pushed him, he wouldn’t budge. 

When a great bubble emerged from his mouth, his caregivers realized Shiro must be ill. They gave him a tonic and allowed him to rest. After time to recover, Shiro walked slowly and unsteadily over and down the pass to Hakone.

He stayed there for four days recuperating before taking to the road again. The grueling journey was wearing on him. He crossed more hastily built pontoon bridges. Nearing total exhaustion, he reached Edo on May 25, 1729. 

Shiro’s new home in Edo

The townspeople had been warned not to touch him or toss sweets to him. Nevertheless, the Edo people gave him a wildly enthusiastic welcome, being well prepared for his arrival by the woodblock prints, newspapers, and pamphlets that had been circulating in Edo covering the elephant’s journey.

After being paraded through the city, Shiro was brought to the shogun’s falconry grounds, at what is now the Hama Rikyu Gardens, next to the Imperial Palace. 

May 27, Shiro was taken to Edo castle, entering through the Sakurada-mon gate, where he met face-to-face with shogun Tokugawa Yoshimune.

His Vietnamese mahout taught others how to care for Shiro, and the elephant adapted to life on the Hama palace grounds, where Yoshimune took a deep interest in him, visiting him frequently, and even feeding him himself.

As the years passed, the financial strain of Shiro’s upkeep wore on the shogunate. When Shiro trampled and killed one of his keepers, it was decided that he should be sold.

The shogun provided for a stable to be built for Shiro and paid for three years of upkeep, and he was taken to live beside the Jyogan-ji temple in what is now Nakano-ku, Tokyo.

People flocked to see Shiro and to buy elephant-themed merchandise. But like all fads, before long, Shiro’s visitors declined, leaving his new owners struggling. Although doing their best to care for him, Shiro suddenly fell ill. He died on Jan 8, 1743.

Tokugawa Yoshimune ordered that Shiro’s hide and trunk be sent to Kobaien, 古梅園, a maker of sumi ink in Nara. (Sumi ink has been used for centuries for writing, calligraphy, and painting in Japan. It is made from soot and glue derived from animals.) It is said that the hide from his trunk remains there to this day.

Next time I’m in Nara, I will pop in and enquire.

Although Shiro means “white” in Japanese, and his title was the rather wordy, “The White Elephant of Vietnam of Fourth Imperial Rank,” 広南四位白象, according to various diarists of the day, he was, in fact, gray.

The post The Incredible Tale of the Elephant Who had an Audience with the Japanese Emperor first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

The Exploits of Hattori Hanzō Masanari

Hattori Hanzō Masanari’s life is shrouded in mystery, as one would expect of a master ninja. After scouring many and varied Japanese sources, I’ve pieced together bits and pieces of what seems to be the most agreed-on version of his amazing story.

Background

By the mid-16th century, Japan was reeling from 100 years of internal wars and strife caused by lords fighting for power, land, and wealth. As the years passed, Oda Nobunaga, the lord of Owari (Gifu Prefecture) emerged as the strongest, conquering one domain after another with an eye to uniting the entire country. He was joined by his former sandal-bearer, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, who advanced to become one of his top retainers, as well as Tokugawa Ieyasu of Mikawa (eastern Aichi Prefecture), who would eventually become the most powerful shogun Japan has ever known.

It was during this turbulent time that Hattori Hanzō Masanari was born, the son of the first Hattori Hanzō and the grandson of a ninja.

Like many young lads of the warrior class, six-year-old Masanari was sent to live at a temple for education and moral training. This was a temple of the Jōdo Shinshū Buddhist sect (True Pure Land Buddhism), among whose adherents were fierce warrior monks known as ikko. While at the temple, Masanari quickly gained a reputation for being a strong and indefatigable boy, as well as a devout Jōdo Shinshū Buddhist.

So devout was he, in fact, that the monks encouraged him to enter the priesthood. But Masanari knew that his destiny lay elsewhere. He fled.

Although further events of Masanari’s childhood are not clear, we know that he grew up within the ranks of the mighty warlord, Tokugawa Ieyasu, becoming a formidable samurai famed for his ninja skills.

Growing in Renown

By the time Tokugawa Ieyasu faced his first battles on his way to unifying his province of Mikawa, Masanari had become one of his trusted retainers and a member of his personal guard. During this campaign, using stealth and secrecy, Masanari led a successful night attack on the Kaminogō Castle, gaining notoriety and winning high praise from Ieyasu, as well as the personal gifts of a sake cup and a fine lance. His cunning, fearlessness, and strength in battle earned him the nickname, “Demon Hattori.”*

A couple years later, the ikko warrior monks rose up against Ieyasu. Many close retainers of Ieyasu, who even his enemies considered to be “as loyal as dogs,” turned against their lord and sided with the ikko. Yet the devout Masanari cast off his religious loyalties and fought against the ikko to defend Ieyasu.

Loyal to his lord above all, Masanari used whatever means he could to defeat his enemies. At the Battle of Anegawa, fought between the allied forces of Oda Nobunaga and Ieyasu against the Asai and Asakura clans, Masanari fought on the front lines, made the first kill of the battle, and fought on.

As the enemy began to flee, Masanari followed in pursuit. He caught up with 30 or so soldiers and called out to them, “I’m one of you. Let’s retreat together!” After running for a while further into enemy territory, Masanari’s brother spotted him and joined him. This escapade ended with the Hattori brothers taking the head of the enemy leader and the lives of many of his followers.

Victory came to the Oda-Tokugawa allies.

Facing the “Tiger of Kai”

Next came the Battle of Mikatagahara. The Oda-Tokugawa forces faced the army of Takeda Shingen, “The Tiger of Kai,” (Kai, now Yamanashi Prefecture) famed for his cavalry and virtually undefeated in battle. Masanari again made the first kill, but the Tokugawa forces suffered badly, losing thousands of samurai to the spears of the Kai forces.

Masanari and his soldiers fought bravely to escort Ieyasu to the safe haven of Hamamatsu Castle. Although injured on one of his knees and his face, Masanari did not cease to fight off the enemy along the road, protecting his lord.

After this resounding defeat to the “The Tiger of Kai,” Masanari determined to raise the morale of Ieyasu’s army. He left the safety of the castle alone and challenged the leader of the pursuing forces to a duel with katanas, the famed razor-sharp swords of the samurai. He returned back to the castle holding aloft the head of the enemy. This grisly spectacle served to encourage the soldiers that victory could be won.

For his bravery in battle, Ieyasu rewarded him with two magnificent spears. Furthermore, Masanari was given command of 150 men from Iga (Mie Prefecture), the stronghold of the ninja.

Moral Dilemma

When Ieyasu’s oldest son, Nobuyasu, fell into disfavor and suspicion, his father ordered him to commit seppuku, the samurai’s noble suicide. During this act, a samurai follows a specific ritual culminating in thrusting a short sword into their abdomen and cutting up, across, and then down. Aside from the severe pain making it hard to complete all three strokes of the blade, this method did not immediately kill the samurai. For this, they would have a trusted “second,” another samurai in attendance, who would remove their head with one sweep of their sharp katana.

Masanari was ordered to be Nobuyasu’s second, an honor in itself. Yet, when faced with the pitiful sight of the kneeling Nobuyasu, the son of his beloved lord, he could not move his hand to strike him down. Masanari cast away his katana and fell to the floor in tears.

When word of this disobedience reached the ears of Ieyasu, he chuckled and said, “Even a demon cannot kill his lord’s son.” Rather than incurring anger, this event raised Masanari’s esteem even further in the eyes of Ieyasu.

From Ninja to Masterless Samurai

Oda and Tokugawa continued conquering one feudal lord after another. Meanwhile, Masanari was stationed in Hamamatsu (in Shizuoka Prefecture). A feud broke out between Ieyasu’s retainers and those of a rival lord, Uji-ie. Masanari joined the fray, resulting in many deaths. Seeking revenge for their lost comrades, the Uji-ie troop attacked Masanari’s house, threatening his wife and children.

Masanari, not one to easily give up, determined to fight to the death — until word came with a plan from Ieyasu.

Ieyasu had heard that Masanari was fighting with the Uji-ie, who he knew to be vassals of Oda Nobunaga. He devised a way for Masanari and his family to escape without harming anymore Uji-ie, avoiding invoking the attention and ire of the powerful Nobunaga.

Ieyasu convinced Masanari to fake his death and disappear. A head was prepared and delivered to the Uji-ie as if it were the head of Masanari. Receiving this proof of death was considered sufficient retribution. The conflict came to an end. Masanari’s family was saved.

Meanwhile, Masanari disappeared as a masterless samurai, a ronin. For the next two years, the whereabouts of Masanari was unknown.

The Ronin Returns

While on his way to unifying the country, the great warlord Oda Nobunaga was betrayed by his retainer, Akechi Mitsuhide. Penned in by the enemy with no way of escape, Nobunaga committed seppuku at the Honnōji Temple in Kyoto. This sent shockwaves through the country, and it put a target on the back of Nobunaga’s closest ally, Tokugawa Ieyasu.

Ieyasu was in Sakai (now Osaka) when he heard the news. Determined to follow his lord Nobunaga in death, he planned to go to Kyoto to commit seppuku at the main branch of his family’s temple. However, his vassals reasoned with him and convinced him to return to his hometown in Mikawa. Masanari was again at his side.

To get to Mikawa, Ieyasu would avoid the main roads and travel along narrow pathways through the steep and high mountains of Kōga and Iga, Masanari’s ancestral home, the famous stronghold of ninja.

With the help of a powerful merchant, Masanari negotiated with the local ninja leaders, who guaranteed Ieyasu’s safe passage and promised to accompany him to the Ise coast and then across the bay to Okazaki Castle in Mikawa.

All was well until they reached a mountain pass in Iga. There they were caught up in a riotous uprising. Masanari yelled for the rioters to make way, and a small gap in the mob opened up. Ieyasu, his ninja bodyguards, and some of his attendants fought their way through, but Masanari and the rearguard were overwhelmed.

Masanari was surrounded. Breaking through the rioters, he rode his horse up the steep bank. His horse faltered, and Masanari tumbled off into a ditch. The enemy from above fell upon him, attacking him with lances. His legs were injured in ten different places and he sank into unconsciousness. He was left for dead.

Masanari’s vassal searched out Ieyasu to tell him the sad news that Masanari had been killed. When they went back later to recover his body, to their amazement, he was alive. Ieyasu’s men nursed Masanari and brought him to Mikawa. Just two weeks later, he was back fighting for his lord on the front lines.

Conquering the Unconquerable Castle

Masanari’s last great exploit came after he sent two of his ninja vassals to infiltrate the impregnable Sanokoya Castle. Under cover of darkness, they reconnoitered and brought back details of the castle’s defenses. With that knowledge to aid him, ninja in the front lines, and in the midst of heavy rainfall, Masanari conquered the castle that even “The Tiger of Kai” was unable to conquer. For this, he was richly rewarded.

It is said that the wealth given to Masanari by Ieyasu was greater than that possessed by lords of entire provinces.

In Memory

In 1593, Ieyasu granted funds to Masanari in order for him to oversee the construction of a temple for the repose of Ieyasu’s son, Nobuyasu. That temple now stands in Tokyo, Sainen-ji, completed after Masanari’s death from illness in 1597. Both Nobuyasu and Masanari’s graves can be visited there.

The Hanzō-mon gate of the Imperial Palace in Tokyo continues to bear his name. This was the area where Hattori Hanzō Masanari lived in Edo, and where his family lived on, performing their hereditary duty as police and guards of the Tokugawa Shoguns during the Edo Era (1603–1867), albeit none of his descendants achieved anything to rival the inimitable exploits of Masanari.

When Ieyasu established his Shogunate, he remembered the ninja who had served him loyally by guiding him safely over the mountains of Iga, and he rewarded them with elevated positions as his personal guards. They joined the Hattori family in the Hanzō ward of Edo.

And remember that first fine lance that Tokugawa Ieyasu gave to Masanari? It can be seen at the Sainen-ji Temple today, weighing 7.5 kilos. Due to fires, only 2.58 meters of its original 4.2 meters remain.

* Demon is the most common translation for the Japanese word used here, oni, although it is not exactly accurate. Oni refers to a ferocious and strong mountain-dwelling giant. Unlike demon, oni does not have an evil or devilish nuance.

To read about another man who earned the moniker “Demon,” click here.

The post The Incomparable Ninja that Served the Most Powerful Shogun first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.