marky star

Posts Tagged ‘hidetada’

The Kanda River

In Japanese History, Tokyo Rivers, Travel in Japan on July 15, 2014 at 5:30 pm

神田川
Kanda-gawa (literally, “divine fields river,” but actually “river in Kanda”)[i]

Hajiribashi, a concrete arched bridge crossing the Kanda River near Ochanomizu Station.  If you eliminate the train station and modern buildings, this a typical Edo Period river setting.  The bridge itself is not much to look at now, but it was built after the Great Kanto Earthquake which river travel was still common. Such bridges were designed to be viewed from below by boats passing underneath them.

Hajiribashi, a concrete arched bridge crossing the Kanda River near Ochanomizu Station.
If you eliminate the train station and modern buildings, this a typical Edo Period river setting.

 

The name 神田 Kanda is one of the oldest place names in Edo-Tōkyō and believe it or not, 神田川 Kanda-gawa the Kanda River is not that old at all. Well, most of the river isn’t. Well, part of it might be.

Well, it’s complicated.

In short, after doing this research, I’ve realized I have to make a separate article about the area called 神田 Kanda – and by that, I mean just etymology. So I will write about that in the future – and I promise not to put it off too long. But let’s just deal with the river for the time being, mkay?

 

Let’s Look at the Kanji


kan

deities


ta, -da

rice paddies


kawa, -gawa

river

 

This river is manmade. So the etymology seems to be clear. At the beginning of the Edo Period, in the 神保町 Jinbō-chō area there was a small waterway that cut through a hilly are called 神田山 Kandayama Mt. Kanda. It’s said that since this area in general was called 神田 Kanda[ii] the original waterway was then called 神田川 Kanda-gawa the Kanda River.

If you only wanted to know the etymology of the river, you can stop reading here. From this point on it’s going to turn into a crazy – possibly boring – river mess. If you’re a JapanThis! masochist, then by all means, read on. You may actually enjoy this.

 

 

hajiribashi

A view of Hajiribashi when it was new. The bridge itself is not much to look at now, but in the 1920’s it was new and river travel was still common. Such bridges were designed to be viewed from below by boats passing underneath them (or without tall buildings in the background).

 

Where to Start??

Up until now, every river we have looked at was at some point a naturally occurring river. The Kanda River is quite different from those rivers. There was a time within recorded history that the Kanda River never existed. Though, a portion of it was once a natural tributary of a long vanished inlet of Edo Bay, it is, in fact, a man-made river. All though it may not be on the lips of every Tōkyōite, today the river is a well-recognized part of the well-manicured urban landscape of the modern city.

I actually first mentioned the Kanda River back in June, 2011 in an article about Yodobashi[iii], a small bridge that crosses the Kanda River at the border of 中野区 Nakano-ku Nakano Ward and 新宿区 Shinjuku-ku Shinjuku Ward. So this is something of a little homecoming for me. I started this blog when I still lived in Nakano (lived there for about 6 years).

 

yodobashi

Yodobashi in the Taisho Era, before the Great Kanto Earfquake. The area is rustic and a in sharp contrast to the present area. Today it marks the border of Nakano and crazy-ass Shinjuku.

 

What is the Kanda River Today?

The modern river’s official designation is the channel of water that flows from 井之頭池 Inokashira Ike Inokashira Pond to 飯田橋 Iidabashi (literally, Iida Bridge) where it empties into the 外堀 sotobori outer moat of Edo Castle. But it’s at this junction where the river flows into a disparate network of waterways. So you could say, unofficially, that the Kanda River flows into the 日本橋川 Nihonbashi-gawa Nihonbashi River and the 隅田川 Sumida-gawa Sumida River at 両国橋 Ryōgokubashi Ryōgoku Bridge, essentially taking the water to the Tōkyō Bay.

 

Wellspring of the present-day Kanda River at Inokashira Park.

Wellspring of the present-day Kanda River at Inokashira Park.

 

Now Let’s Talk History

As mentioned in my article on the etymology of Edo, the original 江戸城 Edo-jō Edo Castle or 千代田城 Chiyoda-jō Chiyoda Castle was not built by 太田道灌 Ōta Dōkan as is often cited[iv]. In reality, a minor branch of 平家 Hei-ke the Taira clan[v] moved to the area at the end of the 11th century and built a fortified residence[vi] on a hill overlooking the sea. As was common practice for new branch families with new fiefs, they took the name of the village 江戸郷 Edo-gō as their own and they became the 平江戸氏 Taira Edo-shi Edo branch of the Taira clan[vii]. In the 12th century, the area prospered due to its proximity to the capital of the Minamoto shōguns in Kamakura. However, it seems the Edo clan didn’t do much to develop the area’s rivers[viii].

In those days, the now long gone 日比谷入江 Hibiya Irie Hibiya Inlet was a saltwater inlet used for 海苔 nori seaweed farming[ix]. There was a certain freshwater river known as 平川 Hirakawa “the wide river” which emptied into the inlet. This fresh water river originally made up part of the natural boundary between 武蔵国豊島郡 Musashi no Kuni Toshima-gun Toshima District, Musashi Province and 武蔵国江原郡 Musashi no Kuni Ebara-gun Ebara Province, Musashi Province. This fresh water tributary seems to be where the story of the Kanda River begins.

 

Edo Hamlet

 

Fast Forward a Few Centuries

By the 15th century, Japan was balls deep in the bloody, sweaty mess that was the Sengoku Period[x] and Ōta Dōkan found himself re-fortifying the Edo family’s fort in Chiyoda using water from the coastline and other small rivers with the latest moat-building technology of his day. The new and improved “Edo Fort” he built for the 上杉氏 Uesugi-shi Uesugi clan brought new channels and waterways into the village. This manipulation of water provided tactical advantages to the new fort in that food and goods could come in and there were more escape routes. There were now logical, defensible waterways. Lucky side effect, certain areas of the village were less exposed than before and local merchants and fishermen had new distribution routes and… BOOM!  Ladies and gentleman, we have a budding 城下町 jōka machi castle town[xi].

Although all of Dōkan’s efforts were pioneering and crucial in the taming of the rivers and sea and urban planning of Edo-Tōkyō, one of the most important changes to Edo’s waterways was diverting the 平川 Hirakawa the ancient “wide river” eastward into what is today called the 日本橋川 Nihonbashi-gawa Nihonbashi River. This is critical to our story today. And the place where this new confluence occurred is actually marked by a bridge called the 神田橋 Kandabashi Kanda Bridge. The Hirakawa River doesn’t exist anymore, but a quick look at a map of Edo Castle will show you a 平川門 Hirakawa Mon Hirakawa Gate and 平川濠 Hirakawa-bori Harakawa Moat[xii]; the former, the gate that stood guard on the moat[xiii]; the latter, a vestige of the old river itself. Today, 平川見附 Hirakawa Mitsuke the bridge and fortified gate installation on the moat is a popular sightseeing spot.

 

Part of Edo Castle today. At the top, notice Hirakawa Gate and at the bottom right, notice the Ote Mon (main gate). They are on the same moat. That is the former Hirakawa.

Part of Edo Castle today. At the top, notice Hirakawa Gate and at the bottom right, notice the Ote Mon (main gate).
They are on the same moat. That is the former Hirakawa.
I used JCastle.info to generate this map. Click on the picture to find THE premiere website on Japanese Castles in English.

 

So, as I’ve said before – and will say again – Tokugawa Ieyasu moved into an Edo that was well fortified, strategically sound, and extremely defensible by sea and by land. Oh, and did I mention, there was a burgeoning village life, supported by fishermen, farmers, and artisans[xiv]. Between Ōta Dōkan’s time and the time Ieyasu entered Edo, a technological revolution had occurred in Japan. From Nobunaga’s rise to power on, Japanese castles began to take on the look of what we think of today when someone says “Japanese Castle.[xv]” The castles of the Tokugawa Period are based on these new advances in castle building technology and reflected the amount of luxury the ruling class could not just afford, but were expected to maintain to project their image of superiority.

 

hirakawa

 

 

OK, OK! Castles, Can We Please Get Back to the River?

Yes, of course. Sorry for getting distracted.

(But we’re probably coming back to castles)

The Tokugawa Shōgunate kept meticulous records of the changes they made to the area. The great waterworks projects were no exception. But I’m not going to get into every change they made. It’s so boring it’s unreal. So let’s just look at some of the major changes and what I think are the takeaways of what created the Kanda River.

Since I got distracted, let’s go back to the beginning.The beginning of the story is 1456-1457, when Ōta Dōkan began manipulating waterways to build moats for his pre-cursor to Edo Castle – though work on the moats most likely preceded construction of the fortress, so we might say 1455-1457. In 1486, Dōkan was assassinated and in 1524 the 江戸合戦 Edo Gassen Battle of Edo saw the rise of influence of the 後北条氏 Go-Hōjō-shi and the decline of the Ōta and Uesugi. This meant that the fortifications in 千代田 Chiyoda[xvi] (the area where the Sengoku forts where built and the fields around them) were abandoned and lay fallow for almost 70 years[xvii].

In 1590, Tokugawa Ieyasu transferred his clan and top retainers to Edo and began modernizing the old Sengoku Period fortifications of the Edo and Ōta. He cautiously applied some of the latest castle building technology following the examples of Oda Nobunaga and Toyotomi Hideyoshi. It’s said that the 大手御門 Ōte Go-mon Main Gate was one of the first construction project undertaken and this required crossing an existing moat – one affiliated with the later Kanda Aqueduct/Hirakawa.

The Ote-mon (main gate) at the time of the collapse of the shogunate.

The Ote-mon (main gate) after the Meiji Coup.

 

1603 is the watershed moment. Ieyasu is named 征夷大将軍 seii tai-shōgun shōgun and is the effective military ruler of Japan. From this point, the real history of the Kanda River begins. In 1604, Nihonbashi is built and the 5 Great Highways of Edo are defined. Strict entry & exit points by land and by river are laid out in order to preserve the new Tokugawa hegemony. Edo’s waterways are no longer “just Edo waterways;” they are tactical routes, trade routes, and a means of regulating nature for the protection of the commoners who lived along the rivers and were, essentially, part of the city’s infrastructure. In short, the rivers of Edo became a stabilizing mechanism for the shōgun’s capital.

 

Hirakawa Gate when Edo Castle still had a tenshukaku (that tower thingy).

The Ote-mon (main gate) when Edo Castle still had a tenshukaku (that tower thingy). Tokugawa Power! Activate! This is where the name Otemachi comes from.

 

From 1616 to 1620, during the reign of 2nd shōgun Tokugawa Hidetada, something really resembling a “Kanda River” in a modern sense came in to existence. This is when the 神田山 Kandayama “Kanda Mountain”[xviii] was cut through and the Kanda River and Nihonbashi River became 2 discrete waterways. Kanda and Ryōgoku began to take on unique personalities at this time.

Colorized photo of the Hirakawa Gate. Check out how bad ass the castle was. Truly something to behold.

Colorized photo of the Hirakawa Gate.
Check out how bad ass the castle was. Truly something to behold.

 

In 1657, disaster struck on a colossal scale. The 明暦大家 Meireki Fire[xix] ripped through the city destroying well over half of the metropolis[xx]. Although city planning was essential from the beginning, the shōgunate hadn’t anticipated the rapid growth that accompanied their sankin-kōtai policy and just the economic stability brought on by… um, stability in general.

 

img_0

Edo Castle was a city within a city, When the main keep burned down, budgets and policies were reconsidered.

 

In part of the rebuilding efforts after the Meireki Fire, from 1659-1661 various waterways in Edo were widened and more open space along the rivers was added. Edo grew so rapidly after the arrival of the Tokugawa, that the city had become a firetrap[xxi].

 

sakurameguri22l

Ryogoku Bridge today

 

By some accounts, 60%-70% may have be burnt to the ground. Given the relative clean slate available to the shōgunate after this particular conflagration, certain rivers were designated as firebreaks and widened to keep fires localized[xxii]. It’s at this time that the Kanda River was dramatically widened – most notably, at the confluence of the Kanda River and Ryōgoku River, the 両国橋 Ryōgokubashi Ryōgoku Bridge was built. Even today, the expanse of the river here is something to see, but in the Edo Period, with no buildings over 2 stories, it was clearly a sight to behold. Soon the area became famous for a dazzling annual fireworks display in the summer[xxiii]. Some of the most iconic 浮世絵 ukiyo-e “scenes of the transient world” come from this area. The 江戸東京博物館 Edo-Tōkyō Hakubutsukan Edo-Tōkyō Museum is located in this area… for obvious reasons.

 

From its spring in Inokashira Park, the Kanda river begins its exit from the well.  Ganbare, Kanda-chan!

From its spring in Inokashira Park, the Kanda river begins its exit from the well.
Ganbare, Kanda-chan!

 

As I mentioned before, the official headwaters are 井之頭池 Inokashira Ike Inokashira Lake, but the river has no officially designated end point but it’s fairly certain that it ultimately empties into Tōkyō Bay. Traditionally it ends at 飯田橋 Iidabashi. The reason there’s no official ending point is because the Kanda River empties into a few rivers and drainage channels along the way before it ultimately fizzles out into the 隅田川 Sumida-gawa Sumida River at 両国橋 Ryōgokubashi Ryōgoku Bridge. If you’ve been following this series, you’ll probably be aware that the names and courses of these rivers have been changing over time and that some stretches of one river may have had multiple names depending on the area. So yeah… welcome back to the Confus-o-dome.

Thanks to the Showa Era, this is the Iidamachi Bridge (Iidabashi).  Gross.

Thanks to the Showa Era, this is the Iidamachi Bridge (Iidabashi).
Gross.

The Kanda River’s Legacy

The man-made Edo Era waterway that flowed from Inokashira Pond was called the 神田上水 Kanda Jōsui. Longtime readers should know what a 上水 jōsui is. But just a refresher, a jōsui is a conduit of “imported” water. This water flowed from 三鷹 Mitaka[xxiv] to Edo Castle; it also supplied drinking water to the daimyō mansions that lined its course.

 

The creation of the Kanda River. (by the way, this is the worst info-graphic ever)

The creation of the Kanda River in Chiyoda from the Hibiya Inlet.

The Kanda Jōsui is considered the first real aqueduct system in Japan. Before I mentioned the technological revolution in castle construction, right? Well, the Sengoku Period began stabilizing and yes, castle building was a status thing. But the distribution of water and water management showed one of the greatest advances in urban planning and administration that Japan had seen in centuries. This is why shōgunate’s founder, Tokugawa Ieyasu, was such a bad ass. The dude could lead an army here or there, but he had ideas about civil administration and surrounded himself with people who could advise him on these things. Oda Nobunaga and Toyotomi Hideyoshi were essentially one-trick-ponies who couldn’t really get out of the 戦国病気 Sengoku Byōki “Sengoku Rut.”[xxv] Ieyasu, also a product of that generation, realized that infrastructure reinforced military supremacy and brought economic stability[xxvi].

 

The Kanda Aqueduct

The Kanda Aqueduct

Admittedly, it’s not that exciting or cool, but the availability of clean drinking water and disposal of dirty water should never be underestimated in the study of any ancient or pre-modern city[xxvii].

The capital of the Tokugawa shōguns quickly became the biggest city in Japan and eventually the most populous city in the world. Clean water and sewerage undeniably played a part in this. But soon the Kanda Jōsui wasn’t enough. That said, it was the main source of drinking water for Edo Castle during the Edo Period.

Even if it was inadequate to supply the entire sprawling capital, Kanda Jōsui was such a successful project that it begot 6 more major waterworks in Edo, all of which benefited daimyō, samurai, and the commoner population. Of course, this technology spread throughout the realm, but for short while Edo boasted one of the most unique water infrastructures in Japan.

 

HSD10003

 

A Final Note

If you’re up for an interesting bike ride, a 2010 blog post at Metropolis suggests starting at the mouth of the river and riding upstream to Inokashira Pond. When the temperature starts to come down, I may give this a go myself. There are loads of spots, many covered in JapanThis!, along the course of the river, so it should be fascinating.

 

 

 

If you like JapanThis, please donate. 
Seriously, it helps. 

Click Here to Donate
or
Click Here to Buy Awesome Nerdy J-History Goods

 

 

 


[i] I know that’s not the kind of helpful explanation that will bring closure to any of the etymology fans out there.
[ii] As I said, I’m gonna revisit this topic again.
[iii] Any relation to ヨドバシカメラ Yodobashi Camera? Why, yes there is. Thank you for asking.
[iv] And calling Dōkan’s fortifications a “castle” is also a debatable point. I’ve come to prefer the term “well-moated fort.” I came up with that term all on my own… right now. Thank you very much.
[v] If you don’t know who the Taira clan is… wow. OK, here you go.
[vi] Also, as mentioned in my article on What does Edo mean?, the coastal area is littered with 古墳 kofun burial mounds and it’s clear from the archaeology that the area has been inhabited since Paleolithic times. It’s highly doubtful the Edo clan was the first strongmen to seize upon this highly defensible, coastal plateau – they are the noblest recorded family, though.
[vii] Even though other temples and villages in the area are mentioned as far back as the Heian Period, it’s seems like the name Edo itself doesn’t actually appear in any records until the Kamakura Period.
[viii] In fact the original Edo “Castle” was probably just a 出城 dejiro satellite fort, since the Edo clan seemed to have their main residence in 喜多見 Kitami in present 世田谷区 Setagaya-ku Setagaya Ward.
[ix] I have an article about Hibiya.
[x] And while this may sound like a gratuitous reference to sex on the rag, this is actually a legitimate, historical term. Ask any historian of Pre-Modern Japan. They’ll tell you. Just ask. Seriously.
[xi] Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I said “budding.” When we say “castle” and “castle town” today we are usually referring to a construct of the far more stable Azuchi-Momoyama Period (ie; essentially the end of the Sengoku Period).
[xii] On Edo Era maps these may be listed with honorifics as 平川御門 Hirakawa Go-Mon Hirakawa Gate and 平川御堀 Hirakawa O-Hori Hirakawa Moat, respectively.
[xiii] Interestingly, some people think the radius and extent of Ōta Dōkan’s moats was the result of him not having a fucking clue what he was doing. His initial “improvements” lead to more flooding and so he continually modified his plans, diverting rivers away from the castle and the villages by extending them further and further out. Thus part of the sprawling nature of Edo Castle may have been due to stop-gap measures employed by Dōkan.
[xiv] Yes, I did.
[xv] This is as different as when we use the Latin words castrum to describe a Roman military camp/walled town and a castellum a walled fortification of Late Antiquity. The transformation is truly dramatic.
[xvi] You can see my article on Chiyoda here.
[xvii] The castle itself was pretty minor and was most likely not affected by the Late Hōjō efforts to refortify the Edo area from 1583 on.
[xviii] Kandayama was located in present day 駿河台 Surugadai.
[xix] “What’s the Meireki Fire?” you ask. There’s an article for that.
[xx] By some accounts, 70% of the city may have been destroyed.
[xxi] This didn’t change until the reconstruction of the city after WWII (or, some may argue that it didn’t change until the 1960’s and that the city just got lucky with no major conflagrations in the interim).
[xxii] In theory…
[xxiii] People today love fireworks. Just imagine what people with no video, no cameras, and no Perfume must have thought of these theatrical celebrations of summer.
[xxiv] Essentially, present-day Kichijōji.
[xxv] Again, my word. I just made it up now. And yes, I’m just baiting Sengoku lovers. Actually, I like Nobunaga, too.
[xxvi] And far more importantly, put his family in a seemingly endless position as hereditary top of the food chain. Hmmmmmmmmmm…
[xxvii] And you probably never think about where your water comes from or how it gets to your house and where it all goes afterwards, but it works, right? That’s why you can live there.

What does Hakusan mean?

In Japanese History on March 23, 2014 at 4:56 am

白山
Hakusan (white mountain)

Hakusan Shrine, Bunkyo Ward.

Hakusan Shrine, Bunkyo Ward.

Today we’re going to wrap up our little journey around 文京区 Bunkyō-ku Bunkyō Ward which has taken us to Myōgadani, Koishikawa, and finally Hakusan. For fans of Bunkyō Ward, don’t worry, we’ll be coming back in the future as there’s a lot to talk about in this area. And if for some reason, you absolutely cannot wait, I have old articles on Suidōbashi and Kichijōji (yes, Kichijōji is related, believe it or not).

Anyways, today’s place name is brought you by the Shintō term 勧請 kanjō. Kanjō refers to the ceremonial transfer or sharing of a 神 kami deity from one shrine to another shrine. We will get deeper into religion in a little bit; but for this story, the specifics of the kanjō[i] aren’t necessary. And to be honest, that’s about all I know about the subject.

The origin of this place name is fairly obvious because it has been recorded independently in two parts of the country at the same time. The name is said to come from 白山神社 Hakusan Jinja Hakusan Shrine which is still located in the area. Unlike the former daimyō residences that used to dominate the area which didn’t survive, this particular shrine enjoyed the patronage of both the Tokugawa and Meiji governments and turned out to be a true survivor.

Let’s Look at the Kanji


haku

White


san

Mountain
Shirayama-hime Shrine in Ishikawa Prefecture.

Shirayama-hime Shrine in Ishikawa Prefecture.

In 948 (middle of the Heian Period), the tutelary kami of 白山比咩神社 Shirayama-hime Jinja Shirayama-hime Shrine was split and transferred to this area. Shirayama Shrine is a major shrine in 加賀国 Kaga no Kuni, present day 石川県 Ishikawa-ken Ishikawa Prefecture. Note that Shirayama is the 訓読み kun’yomi Japanese reading and Hakusan is the 音読み on’yomi Chinese reading of 白山.

Hakusan Shrine was originally located in 武蔵国豊島郡本郷元町 Musashi no Kuni Toshima-gun Hongō Motomachi  Hongō Old Town, Toshima District, Musashi Province (which is now in nearby 本郷一丁目 Hongō Icchōme). In about 1620, Tokugawa Hidetada moved the temple onto the premises of 御薬園 go-yakuen the shōgunate’s garden for healing herbs (the area that is now part of the Koishikawa Botanical Gardens).  After the Meireki Fire in 1655, the lord of 館林藩 Tatebayashi Han Tatebayashi Domain ordered that the shrine be rebuilt at its present location in order to use the space for his new residence[ii]. It’s evident that from quite early in the Edo Period Hakusan Shrine came to be patronized by the Tokugawa Shōgun Family[iii].

Hakusan Shrine in the Edo Period.

Hakusan Shrine in the Edo Period.

10 Shrines of Tōkyō

In the Meiji Era, Hakusan Shrine was one of the 東京十社 Tōkyō Jissha the 10 Shrines of the Eastern Capital.

In many previous articles, I’ve said that Japanese religion is syncretic. This means it was very similar to the polytheistic religions of the classical western world, for example Rome or Greece. While monotheistic religions make no exception for other religions, polytheistic religions – by nature – at least entertain the possibility that other religions might be on to something. Originally Shintō and Buddhism butted heads a bit, but over time they borrowed from each other and incorporated certain elements of each other.

The two religions were incestuously intertwined by the Edo Period. When the Meiji Coup of 1868 took place, the government favored Shintō because: Shintō held all the original Japanese creation myths; it was native Japanese[iv]; Buddhism found particular favor among the samurai class; and most importantly, Shintō included justification of imperial rule by divine descent from Japanese kami of the sun, 天照大御神 Amaterasu-ōmikami Amaterasu.

In 1868, one of the earliest edicts issued by the Imperial Court was the 神仏判然令 Shinbutsu Hanzenrei Kami/Buddha Separation Edict. The court wanted none of this touchy-feely Shintō kami and Buddhist Buddhas living together in peace and harmony. What’s more, sprawling syncretic temple complexes like Zōjō-ji and the recently burned Kan’ei-ji were not just massive 菩提寺 bodaiji family temples of the Tokugawa Shōgun Family, they were also tourist destinations[v].

The Meiji Government was not having this at all. So they decided to create a diversion. In order to make this new emperor worship thing cool, they established the 東京十社 Tōkyō Jissha the 10 Shrines of the Eastern Capital[vi] in order to get people to go on a new Imperial Court sanctioned pilgrimage.

By the way, all of this hot and sweaty emperor-loving, getting back to Shintō roots, and overall xenophobia led to years of deadly vigilante attacks against Buddhists, coerced conversions, and outright destruction of centuries old temples. Yay religion!

At any rate, the Hakusan Shrine is still with us today and is still fairly major shrine. Every year during the rainy season, hundreds of people make the pilgrimage to Hakusan Shrine for its 紫陽花祭 Ajisai Matsuri Hydrangea Festival. The plants bloom every year and the precincts are covered with vivid purples, blues, whites, and pinks.

IMG_0787

Connection with Kaga Domain’s Estate?

As mentioned in my article on Koishikawa, in the Edo Period, the 上屋敷 kami-yashiki upper residence of 加賀藩 Kaga Han Kaga Domain was located in the area. The primary deity enshrined at Hakusan originated in Kaga no Kuni. In the other article I speculated that this was probably just a coincidence. But I looked into it a little more and while I didn’t find a definitive answer, what I know now gives a little better idea of the actual connection between the shrine and the Kaga estate.

Well, actually, the 中屋敷 naka-yashiki middle residence was also nearby. The middle residence was where the family of the lord lived. While an upper residence was an administrative center or embassy, the middle residence was exactly that – a residence. Any sort of religious acts of devotion to the domain’s tutelary kami would have been carried out by members of the daimyō family in a private sense, not necessarily as public, domain activities.

From what I can tell, the location of the upper residence near this shrine was probably a coincidence – or a petition for a location near the shrine could have been submitted to the shōgunate by the lord of Kaga[vii]. It seems that 2nd shōgun, Tokugawa Hidetada, moved the shrine to the go-yakuen location as a favor to Kaga Domain so it would be closer to their middle residence. When the shōgunate moved the shrine after the Meireki fire, they moved the shrine even closer to Kaga’s middle estate.

Here you can see the locations of Hakusan Shrine move closer Kaga's middle estate. The white dot at the bottom of the page is Tokyo Dome and you can see Koishikawa Korakuen to the immediate left of the Dome.

Here you can see the locations of Hakusan Shrine move closer Kaga’s middle estate.
The white dot at the bottom of the page is Tokyo Dome and you can see Koishikawa Korakuen to the immediate left of the Dome.
* click the photo to enlarge *

So there was an actual connection between Hakusan and Kaga Domain, but it most definitely pre-dates the Edo Period. The story of Koishikawa meaning Little Ishikawa is most likely a folk etymology that came about after the creation of Ishikawa Prefecture in 1871. While, yes, there would have been many samurai from Kaga running around the area during the Edo Period, the name  石川 Ishikawa usually referred to a 郡 gun a district within Kaga Domain. I’m not sure if local Edoites would have been familiar with (or even cared about) the administrative districts of an area so far away. The Meiji Era reforms saw newspapers, maps, and cheaper books increase access to information. They also literally put Ishikawa Prefecture on the map.

The 御守殿門 Go-Shuden Mon also called 御住居表御門 Go-Shukyo Omote Go-Mon but popularly referred to as 赤門 Aka Mon the Red Gate is a symbol of Tokyo University. In fact, the nickname of the university is Aka Mon. This was the front gate of of Kaga's upper residence. It's the only structure that survived an 1855 earthquake that burned down the palace.  The heart of Tokyo University's Hongo Campus is built on the ruins of this sprawling palace.

The 御守殿門 Go-Shuden Mon also called 御住居表御門 Go-Shukyo Omote Go-Mon but popularly referred to as 赤門 Aka Mon the Red Gate is a symbol of Tokyo University. In fact, the nickname of the university is Aka Mon.
This was the front gate of of Kaga’s upper residence. It’s the only structure that survived an 1855 earthquake that burned down the palace.
The heart of Tokyo University’s Hongo Campus is built on the ruins of this sprawling palace.

In the Edo Period, as you can imagine, the area wasn’t as densely populated as today, and it was distinctly yamanote. Administratively, Hakusan was a small portion of 武蔵国豊島郡小石川村 Musashi no Kuni Toshima-gun Koishikawa Mura Koishikawa Village, Toshima District, Musashi Province. In 1878, the Meiji Government split the area between the now defunct  小石川区  Koishikawa-ku Koishikawa Ward and 本郷区 Hongō-ku Hongō Ward. In 1947, with the creation of the 23特別区 23 Special Wards, the split areas were re-merged in the new 文京区 Bunkyō-ku Bunkyō Ward. In 1967, with the creation of the modern postal code system, the area called Hakusan came to consist of just 5 blocks.

.

.

If you like JapanThisplease donate.
Click Here to Donate
Click Here to Buy Awesome Nerdy J-History Goods

.

.

 


[i] English teachers in Japan who teach children, you can relax. This is 勧請 kanjō, not 浣腸 kanchō. You can safely unclench your asses now.

[ii] Wait a minute! I’ve been to Tatebayashi. It’s a middle of nowhere backwater. In the shōgun’s capital, who the hell did this country bumpkin think he was to start telling religious institutions in Edo what to do? Oh, I’m glad you asked. He was none other than the 4th living son of the 3rd shōgun Tokugawa Iemitsu, the future Dog Shōgun, Tokugawa Tsunayoshi. Tsunayoshi had been put in charge of a fief well outside of Edo because he was smart and crafty and Iemitsu apparently felt that he would try to murder and usurp power from his older brother, future 4th shōgun, Ietsuna. In hindsight, however, it appears Tsunayoshi truly respected and looked up to his brother. Tsunayoshi built Ietsuna’s lavish funerary temple in Kan’ei-ji, Gen’yūin, and ordered that his own funerary temple be built next door. To this day, the two brothers rest in adjacent lots in the cemetery at Kan’ei-ji.

[iii] Because pre-shōgun, Tokugawa Tsunayoshi, had a residence in what is today Hakusan 3-chōme, until 1967, the area was still officially called  白山御殿町 Hakusan Goten Machi Hakusan Palace Town. Older residents of the area still use the name. Apparently, there are plaques commemorating the same scattered throughout the area.

[iv] Pretty sure everyone knows that Buddhism was imported.

[v] Much as Nikkō still is today.

[vi] This grouping doesn’t exist anymore so I couldn’t find an English article on it, but here’s the list of the 10 Shrines in Japanese.

[vii] The lords of Kaga were the 前田 Maeda, who weren’t on the best of terms with the Tokugawa during the Sengoku Period.

What does Anjin-cho mean?

In Japanese History on June 20, 2013 at 9:36 pm

安針町
Anjin-chō (Anjin Town)

12

One of the last remnants of one of Tokyo’s most special places.
The kanji leaves something to be desired, tho…….

In Tōkyō’s Chūō Ward, there is a small alley called 安針通り Anjin Dōri. Until 1932, this neighborhood was called 安針町 Anjin-chō Anjin Town. Some of you probably know exactly where this is going, for those of you who don’t, let’s get started.

Capture

In Early Modern Japanese there was a word 按針 anjin, literally “searching needle,” which referred to the process of using a compass. At the time, this was the main way in which ships were navigated and so, by extension, the word was applied not just to ship navigation, but also to ship navigators[i].

If anyone has ever seen the 1980’s American mini-series, Shogun, then they already know this Japanese word. The main character is referred to as Anjin-san and he is an English navigator stranded in Japan who has been pressed into service of the first shōgun, Lord Toranaga. This mini-series was a dramatization of James Clavell’s novel, Shogun, which is based on the life of one William Adams. He was an Englishman, stranded in Japan who was pressed into the service of the first shōgun, Lord Tokugawa.

Am I repeating myself?

John Blackthorne. The English guy who only knows 4-5 Japanese words and only uses them through the whole series.

John Blackthorne.
The English guy who only knows 4-5 Japanese words.

Anyways, he’s so famous in the English speaking world and there are excellent sources available online about him (see the bottom of the page for links).

Sometime after 1610, the first shōgun, Tokugawa Ieyasu, granted William Adam’s samurai status and made him a 旗本 hatamoto direct retainer of the shōgun family. He granted him a fief in an area called 逸見 Hemi which is located in present day 横須賀 Yokosuka in Kanagawa Prefecture. The area is located in the 三浦半島 Miura Hantō Miura Peninsula. Ieyasu, being a pretty clever guy, thought of a Japanese name for William. 三浦安針 Miura Anjin Anjin of Miura.

But wait, didn’t you say, anjin meant navigator? Yes. But “navigator” isn’t a fucking name in English, is it? Well, it isn’t in Japanese either. Ieyasu changed the kanji from 按針 to 安針. The first kanji changed from “search” (which is never used in names) to “safe/safety” (which is used in names). The official place name changed in the 1930’s, which was before a major reformation of spelling happened. The word 按針 is a title and the word  安針 is a name. As you can see from the street sign at the beginning of this article, the title is used for the street. But any Google search shows that the kanji Ieyasu bestowed upon him was and is still preferred.

OK, so Miura Anjin (aka William Adams) is a white dude samurai receiving a 250 koku a year stipend (an income equivalent to a local magistrate; he supported a village with some 70 or so servants, his Japanese wife and 2 kids, and still managed to send money back to his former family in England). His main residence was at the fief in Kanagawa.

John Blackthorne's, errrrr, Wlliam Adams', errrrr, Miura Anjin's grave.....

John Blackthorne’s, errrrr, Wlliam Adams’, errrrr, Miura Anjin’s grave…..

So why is there a place in Tōkyō named after him?

Well, in those days, there were no cars. So walking from Yokosuka to Edo Castle took a long time[ii]. Before he became a samurai and all, Ieyasu had granted him some property near Nihonbashi. It’s near the castle so he could visit easily (and so the shōgunate could keep an eye on him, no doubt). Also it wasn’t in the daimyō neighborhoods, but the merchant neighborhood as he was originally seen as a sort of tradesperson[iii]. So Anjin kept the house in Edo for when he visited the city.

Because he was a unique dude, and according to the stories we have, he was not only gracious to his Japanese neighbors and servants, but he made every effort to Japanize himself and get along with the Japanese on Japanese terms. This won him great respect from the shōgun and the people around him, while it apparently irritated some of the other foreigners he dealt with who, like the foreigner trash in Roppongi today, refuse to learn about Japan.

So, after he died the area where his estate in Edo came to be known as 安針町 Anjin-chō Anjin Town. In his own lifetime, Anjin (William) saw the slow but steady restriction of maritime travel and trade into and out of Japan. He himself may have been a major factor in the expulsion of the Portuguese and Spanish and the later suspicion of Christianity in general[iv].

Anjin died in Kyūshū, but in Japanese style, he is enshrined in various places. The main grave is considered the one in Yokosuka near the 安針塚駅 Anjinzuka Eki Anjin Burial Mound Station. The story goes he wanted to be buried with a view of Edo as he helped to protect the city with the deified Tokugawa Ieyasu[v]. 浄土寺 Jōdo-ji temple in Yokosuka administers the grave and claims to hold items associated with his family and the grave. They also claim that in the early Edo Era, residents of Anjin-chō donated money and materials for the grave and its upkeep.

This is Anjin Dori

This is Anjin Dori

The site of his Edo residence is commemorated in the place formerly known as Anjin-chō. If you’d like to see it, there is a stone tablet which was set up in 1951. Take the A1 exit of Mitsukoshi-mae Station. It claims this was the site of his home.

Anjin-cho... possibly Anjin Street....

Anjin-cho… possibly Anjin Street….

.

Almost the same shot, but with some samurai dude haning out next to the pothole..

Almost the same shot,
but with some samurai dude haning out next to the pothole..

William Adam’s (Miura Anjin)’s commemorative plaque today:

click it to read the details. It's in Japanese and English.

Click it to read the details. It’s in Japanese and English.
Note the title is used instead of the name.

.

.

Learn About William Adams Here….

Miura Anjin on Samurai Archives:
http://wiki.samurai-archives.com/index.php?title=William_Adams

A Quick Write Up on William Adams:
http://www.oldphotosjapan.com/en/photos/760/anjincho-in-nihonbashi#.UcBnj-emieY

William Adam’s Grave in Yokosuka:
http://www.mustlovejapan.com/subject/miura_anjin_grave/

William Adams on Wikipedia:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Adams_(sailor)

John Blackthorne and the Shogun Mini-Series:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sh%C5%8Dgun_(TV_miniseries)

 

Wanna Support My Blog?
Click Here to Donate
Click Here to Buy Awesome Nerdy J-History Goods

 


[i] This word is often translated as pilot in its older meaning of a ship’s navigator, which I just find confusing since pilots fly planes these days. Navigation, literally “driving a ship” in Latin, is a much more apt term.

[ii] Hell, taking the local train from Edo Castle to Yokosuka can take up to 2 hours in bad conditions.

[iii] If you don’t know his story, please read the links provided. I’m not going to rehash his entire story.

[iv] All good things, if you ask me.

[v] I don’t buy this story for a minute, but it does play into Japanese sensibilities and myths of the time, so it’s pretty interesting.

Gen’yuin

In Japanese History, Japanese Shrines & Temples, Tokugawa Shogun Graves, Travel in Japan on May 31, 2013 at 5:41 am

厳有院
Gen’yūin
(Divine Prince of Strict Existence)
四代将軍徳川家綱公
4th Shōgun, Lord Tokugawa Ietsuna
Kan’ei-ji

徳川家綱公・厳有院

Tokugawa Ietsuna – the first boring shogun, yet he was born early enough in the Edo Period to make him kinda cool.

UPDATE: Don’t forget I have an overview of Tokugawa funerary temples. This series is meant to be read in order, so if you’re confused about terminology, please go back and start at the beginning. Yoroshiku!

 _________________________

OK, I’ve got good news and bad news.

First the good news; I didn’t think I’d be able to post anything today. It’s Friday the 28th here in Tōkyō and it is literally my first day off in, well, 28 days. Recently, I’ve been publishing every day Monday thru Friday and I didn’t want to break that momentum, but I started getting behind and… well, I spent most of the last 2 nights looking for today’s pictures and just staring at my notes blankly. I figure you’d forgive me if I skipped a day and just enjoyed my day off. I managed to get home a half hour before usual and got a little sudden burst of energy so I managed to pull off a little miracle and I finished the 5th installment of this series.

Now for the bad news.

Believe it or not, we’ve already crossed the line. From here on out there is a deplorable lack of information regarding the graves of the shōguns. Daitokuin was completely burnt to the ground, but at least it was often photographed. In Nikkō, Tōshō-gū and Taiyūin are perfectly preserved in their scenic mountain environment. Many of the minor Tōshō-gū worth preserving are still with us today in some form or another.

But I’m sad to say that we have almost nothing to show for the 4th shōgun’s funerary temple. Even more frustrating is that except for the imperial scroll gate (chokugaku mon)[i], the few remaining pieces are usually off limits to the general public.

I couldn’t even find simple map of the layout or any ukiyo-e prints of the area. I can’t find any explanation for the lack of existing images. Granted Kan’ei-ji was a big and bustling temple with many great things to see, but surely someone would have drawn a picture of the site. And if not in the Edo Period, then surely in the Meiji or Taishō or Showa eras when there was a renewed interest in Japan’s samurai past. Surely someone made a record of it.

This is the only old print I could find of the site. Not very helpful.

This is the only old print I could find of the site. Not very helpful.

UPDATE: Finally tracked down the full print. As gorgeous as it is, I'm sad to say this is NOT Gen'yuin. It IS, however, Ietsuna. He and his entourage are visiting Nikko Toshogu.

UPDATE: Finally tracked down the full print. As gorgeous as it is, I’m sad to say this is NOT Gen’yuin. It IS, however, Ietsuna. He and his entourage are visiting Nikko Toshogu.

All I can do is speculate as to why there is nothing.
Maybe it was more or less closed off from the public for the whole time.
Even today, Kan’ei-ji basically keeps the so-called 霊屋 tamaya graveyard off limits.

So I’m writing this with a bit of uncertainty – so please bear that in mind as you read. I’m researching each funerary temple individually as I go along. If I was a scholar, I’d be dragged out back, shot in the head, and kicked into the river behind my house for approaching the topic this way. But I’m not a scholar and I’m not getting paid for this and I don’t have any free time, so sue me (lol). I’m venturing to say that the grave type changes from Ietsuna’s time. The first 3 shōguns have special, private areas for their 宝塔 hōtō (2-story pagoda shaped urns) and no one else is buried with them[ii]. I’m betting that from here on out we will see more group burials. Let’s see what happens later in the series, shall we?

Before we go any further, let’s look at the catalog of items at 厳有院 Gen’yūin[iii].

Structure Name Description Condition Status
殿
honden
Main temple Destroyed


watarō
Like an outdoor hallway, portico Destroyed


nakamon
Middle gate
(gate to the main temple)
Destroyed


sukibei
A latticework fence common at shrines Destroyed[iv]

相之間
ai o ma
The middle building between the front hall (haiden) and the main hall (honden) in the gongen-zukuri style we’ve seen so far in this series. Destroyed

勅額
chokugaku mon
Imperial scroll gate (bears the okurigō gifted by the emperor upon the deceased; bears the shrine’s namesake) Decent condition Open to Public
拝殿
haiden
Worship hall Destroyed

前廊
zenrō
Entrance portico Destroyed

左右廊
sayūrō
Side porticos (literally, left & right) Destroyed

仕切門
shikirimon
I have no idea what this was, but it was sounds like a gate Destroyed

鐘楼
shōrō
Bell tower Destroyed
(see next item)

梵鐘
bonshō
Copper temple bell Excellent condition Belle is visible at Kan’ei-ji
奥院唐門
oku no in karamon
“Chinese gate” that leads to the inner sanctum/funerary urn. Decent condition Accessible
奥院宝塔
oku no in hōtō
2-story pagoda style funerary urn Decent Condition Off limits
水盤舎
suibansha
Water basin for ritual purification Shitty condition Sometimes Accessible
銅灯籠
dōtōrō
石灯籠

ishidōrō
Copper & stone lamps for illumination at night Contrary to popular belief, many survived. However, most were destroyed or repurposed. Off limits

Imperial Scroll Gate

We’ve seen this in every funerary complex so far. The emperor (supposedly) writes the posthumous name of the shōgun on a scroll. The scroll is made into a painted wooden plaque. The plaque is put on an ornate gate away usually far from the main street. How this beautiful gate survived is beyond me. To the left and right of the gate you can see 透塀 sukibei a latticework fence. Presumably this sort of wall would have enclosed the 拝殿 haiden worship hall and its courtyard.

Accessing the gate is no problem. From Uguisudani station, you can walk there in about 5-10 minutes. On a normal day, that’s all you’ll have access to. Even trying to see the backside of the gate might be a problem if you don’t have Japanese people with you because on the other side of the fence/wall is a very active cemetery. You may be asked why you are there and if you can’t give a good reason, you’ll be asked to leave.

Y U NO IMPERIAL SCROLL?

Front of the imperial scroll gate.
(Note there is no imperial scroll.)

Back of the imperial scroll gate.

Back of the imperial scroll gate. The area is now part of Kan’ei-ji cemetery.

A close up of the back of the imperial scroll gate at Gen'yuin.

A close up of the back of the imperial scroll gate at Gen’yuin.

An interesting side note about the imperial scroll gate. In 1957, while doing restoration work, they found markings that led the team to believe the gate was actually repurposed from Iemitsu’s temporary funerary temple. I mentioned in my article on Taiyūin, that Iemitsu was temporarily interred at Kan’ei-ji before being permanently relocated to Nikkō. More about this later.

Gen'yuin as looked after restoration in the late 1950's.

Gen’yuin as looked after restoration in the late 1950’s.

Water Basin

Another remnant you may not be allowed access to is the water basin. When you enter a Shintō shrine, you have to ritually purify yourself with water. The basins never had running water so, I figure that after the advent of plumbing and sewage to Tōkyō, such basins were a pain in the ass to maintain. That’s probably why this basin’s fate has been so tragic. It survived earthquakes and conflagrations and it even survived the firebombing, but it never got a restoration job and it’s basically out site. Even if you visit Gen’yūin, you probably won’t get to see it.

Water basin at Tokugawa Ietsuna's Grave

Yup, that’s a water basin.

A close up of the roof of the water basin.

A close up of the roof of the water basin.

The Bell

The 梵鐘 bonshō temple bell is usually not included in the list of surviving pieces of this temple, but I’m including it. On the one year anniversary of his death (ie; 1681), the bell was installed at Gen’yūin. The bell maker was a famous coppersmith who apparently had close ties to the shōgunate, as his bells appear in locations scattered across both Kan’ei-ji and Zōjō-ji. It’s believed that the bell was moved to its current location in the early Meiji Period. More about this later.

Yup, that's a bell.

Yup, that’s a bell.

The Chinese Gate and the Funerary Urn and the Lanterns

Up to this point I could tell you about Gen’yūin with a fair amount of confidence. Now we’re stepping into the most mysterious realm. In the first shōguns, second shōgun’s[v], and third shōgun’s temples, there were special sections called the 奥院 oku no in, the inner sanctuary, which is the area that surrounds the actual remains of the deceased. The Nikkō graves were exposed and marked off by so-called “Chinese gates”[vi]. From what is extant at Ietsuna’s grave at Kan’eij-ji, the actual grave itself is raised up on a hill reinforced by stone and fenced off. The entrance point is a copper gate. This seems to be the norm for all subsequent shōguns.

After you go up the stairs you will enter the private cemetery of Ietsuna. His grave is a stone 宝塔 hōtō 2-story pagoda styled urn.

Ietsuna's funerary urn and Chinese style gate after restoration in 1957.

Ietsuna’s funerary urn and Chinese style gate after restoration in 1957.

Ietsuna's grave and Chinese style gate as it looks today.

Ietsuna’s grave and Chinese style gate as it looks today.

Laterns

Just as the copper bell rarely makes the list of surviving pieces; the surviving stone lanterns never get listed. But the bell survived. If you go to Kan’ei-ji today, there’s a plaque stating as much in Japanese AND in English.

As for the lanterns, the average you and me don’t normally have access to the site. It’s not a tourist spot and Kan’ei-ji safeguards it as a private Tokugawa-family cemetery. But in that site there are some interesting artifacts.

stone_lamps

A row of stone lamps at Gen’yuin.

stonelamp_okunoin

An individual stone lamp in the oku no in. The ishigaki (stone wall) is also original.

gen'yuin_stone_lamps

Stone monuments generally survived the firebombing, so the lamp in the front may have been destroyed in the Great Kanto Earthquake in 1923.

stonelamp1

You can clearly see the word 厳有院殿 (Gen’yuin-dono) written on the lamp.

stonelamp2

A better shot.
You can clearly see the word 厳有院殿 (Gen’yuin-dono) written on the lamp.

another lamp in the oku no in

another lamp in the oku no in

Some bits and pieces of lamps

Some bits and pieces of lamps

Lamps and graves living together...

Lamps and graves living together…

The Lantern Confusion

A few stone lanterns inscribed with the 3rd shōgun, Iemitsu’s funerary name, 大猷院 Taiyūin, were also noticed at the site. Whether Iemitsu’s temporary mausoleum was appropriated for Ietsuna’s use or whether certain structures were just repurposed is unclear. However, we do know that a sub-temple dedicated to the deified Iemitsu existed at Kan’ei-ji until 1720 when it was destroyed by fire. There are a few noticeable stone lanterns labeled Taiyūin scattered across the area, in particular near Kan’ei-ji’s 本堂 hondō main worship hall[vii]. Certain lanterns were thought to have been repurposed after the fire. But the ones that exist near the cemetery of Ietsuna (4th shōgun) and Tsunayoshi (5th shōgun) seem to beg the question, were these mortuary temples meant to be combined from the beginning or had funerary ideas changed in the first 4 generations of the Edo shōgunate and were these changes the effect of fires or austerity or just a cultural shift?

What’s this you say about combined mortuaries?

More about that at the end.

A stone lamp dedicated to Iemitsu that was found at Ietsuna's grave. You can clearly see the name 大雄院 (Taiyuin) inscribed.

A stone lamp dedicated to Iemitsu that was found at Ietsuna’s grave. You can clearly see the name 大雄院 (Taiyuin) inscribed.


There are a few other stone lamps dedicated to the third shogun Iemitsu scattered around Kan'ei-ji. The mystery is: was Iemitsu's grave converted into Ietsuna's or were pieces just borrowed?

There are a few other stone lamps dedicated to the third shogun Iemitsu scattered around Kan’ei-ji. The mystery is: was Iemitsu’s grave converted into Ietsuna’s or were pieces just borrowed?

taiyuin_ueno2_destroyed in 1720

Another Iemitsu (Taiyuin) lamp.

Daitokuin?? I thought that was Tokugawa Hidetada's temple at Zojoji???!!!!!!

Another mystery is this stone lantern dedicated to the 2nd shogun, Hidetada (Daitokuin). It’s unlikely it wasa transported all the way from Zojoji to Kan’ei-ji, so the prevailing theory is that there was a small shrine built for Hidetada here too.
But once again, nobody bothered to write any of this shit down.

I just mentioned a fire in the temple complex in 1720. If there was small Daitokuin at Kan’ei-ji, it’s assumed it would have been destroyed in this fire. But that wasn’t the only fire to hit Kan’ei-ji.

In 1868, the face-off between the Tokugawa supporters and the new Meiji imperial army, now known as the Battle of Ueno cost Kan’ei-ji most of its holdings. In an effort to force the 彰義隊 shōgitai out into the open, Saigō Takamori and his army of douche nozzles lit fire to many of the buildings[viii]. Depictions of the battle show fighting in the midst of a massive conflagration. It’s not clear if the funerary temples were damaged or not. My guess is that they weren’t destroyed, but probably suffered some damage. The reason being that in the transition of Kan’ei-ji’s holdings into a public park[ix], the 梵鐘 bonshō temple bell, being the most well produced in the area, was moved a mile or so over to the new main temple of Kan’ei-ji . This move subsequently saved the bell as it luckily was unaffected by the American air raids in the 1940’s. It is said that a few other portions of the temple had been dismantled after the Battle of Ueno, which makes me think they had become unsightly due to fire damage. However, no one bothered to write this stuff down in detail – or at least the records don’t exist today.

This famous photo shows the striking aftermath of the Battle of Ueno. The debris has been cleaned up, but all that remains are a few isolated structures. (look ma! more water basins!)

This famous photo shows the striking aftermath of the Battle of Ueno. The debris has been cleaned up, but all that remains are a few isolated structures.
(look ma! more water basins!)

There is another fire connected with Tokugawa Ietsuna. In the 6th year of his regency (1657), the Great Meireki Fire[x] burnt Edo to the ground. Famously, this fire burned the 天守閣 tenshukaku main keep of Edo Castle. For more about conflagrations, see my article on how fires shaped Edo-Tōkyō.

.

.

.

SPOILER ALERT:

OK, I promised that I’d say something about the combined graves.
The 10th shōgun, Tokugawa Ieharu, and the 11th shōgun, Tokugawa Ienari, were later interred at Gen’yūin. Ieharu died about 100 years after Ietsuna.
.

.

.
UPDATE: It’s a pain in the ass to modify my chart once a blog is published… But, I recently learned that there was a main gate (総門 soumon) also called a 二天文 nitenmon (2 god gate). This statues from this gate still exist. When the main gate was disassembled in the Meiji Era, the statues were sent to Sensō-ji in Asakusa and installed in the nitenmon there.

 

Wanna Support My Blog?
Click Here to Donate
Click Here to Buy Awesome Nerdy J-History Goods

 


[i] To add insult to injury, the scroll gate survived but the scroll itself is gone.

[ii] 2nd shōgun, Hidetada’s Daitokuin being the exception, his wife, 江 Gō, had a separate, personal funerary temple built on the premises.

[iii] Which, ironically, is taken from a list of things destroyed by the American air raids during WWII. Why didn’t anyone make this list and photograph this shit in DETAIL before the firebombing???
FFS, people. Get it together!

[iv] Technically speaking, 2 panels of the sukibei are still intact. You can see them on the left and right sides of te imperial scroll gate.

[v] Hidetada’s Daitokuin was unique in that his wooden funerary urn was housed by an octagonal structure. After Ietsuna, stone or copper urns seems to be the norm

[vi] Other than that in these mortuaries, the “Chinese Gates” have been made of stone and metal, I have no idea what a “Chinese Gate” actually is. I would love for an art historian to school me on this because… it’s one of the most confusing points for me about temple construction. A Google search by the kanji just turns up a bunch of Japanese gates the look like every Edo Period gate I’ve ever seen…

[viii] The fact that a statue of his Supreme Douchiness, Saigō Takamori, stands at the entrance of Ueno Park is freaking slap in the face to the people of Edo-Tōkyō, if you ask me.

[ix] ie; Ueno Park

[x] Of which there was nothing great. The fire sucked giant donkey balls. 100,000 people died and it took 2 years to rebuild, but countless architectural treasures were lost forever.

Taiyuin

In Japanese History, Japanese Shrines & Temples, Tokugawa Shogun Graves on May 30, 2013 at 1:58 am

大猷院
Taiyūin
(Divine Prince Who Built Up the Great Government)
三大将軍徳川家光公
2nd Shōgun, Lord Tokugawa Iemitsu
Nikkō

.

Honden (main hall) of Taiyūin. It's built in the same Gongen-zukuri style as Daitokuin's honden. You can see the Nakamon (middle gate) and sukibei (latticework fence).

Honden (main hall) of Taiyūin. It’s built in the same Gongen-zukuri style as Daitokuin honden. You can see the Nakamon (middle gate) and sukibei (latticework fence).

.

Yesterday’s post was a monster. But it was a real labor of love. For the first time, I was able to really visualize the size and grandeur of the Daitokuin funerary complex. I had never seen photos of all of those buildings and the maps together in the same place before (definitely not in English), so I felt like I really succeeded in resurrecting the temple. I hope everyone else felt like that too. So far, that may be the article I’m the most proud of.

.

Sukibei (latticework fence) around the the honden (main hall).

Sukibei (latticework fence) around the the honden (main hall).

.

Compared to that, today’s post may be a little disappointing. The reason is that Nikkō Tōshō-gū and Nikkō Taiyūin are both so well known. There are volumes written about them online and in books in every major language. The sites are wonderfully preserved and can be enjoyed year round. I don’t want to just repeat what everyone else says about this mausoleum, so I’m having difficulty coming up with unique information.

.

This gate is called the Nitenmon (2 heaven gate), but if you notice the plaque with kanji on it, you'll understand that this is the second gate to the temple and that it is essentially a chokugakumon (imperial scroll gate). The characters say Taiyuuin and were supposedly written by the emperor before being incorporated into the architecture.

This gate is called the Nitenmon (2 heaven gate), but if you notice the plaque with kanji on it, you’ll understand that this is the second gate to the temple and that it is essentially an imperial scroll gate.
The characters say Taiyūin and were supposedly written by the emperor before being incorporated into the architecture.
I’ve heard it’s the biggest gate at Nikkō… but I’ve never measured it. If ya know what I mean…

.

Well, anyways, let’s start at the beginning.

Iemitsu was the first shōgun born since the establishment of the Tokugawa shōgunate. As such, he was the first heir to be groomed from childhood to be shōgun[i]. He established, or at least codified the sankin-kōtai system, which increased the size and population of Edo, thus transforming it into a sprawling metropolis with an unprecedented concentration of samurai elite. His father began restricting travel and trade with other countries, but Iemitsu is the one who essential closed off Japan from the outside world[ii]. Furthering his father and grandfather’s policies against the irritating Christians missionaries and their converts, Iemitsu set about de-christianizing Japan. He expanded Tōshō-gū in Nikkō to its current size and he is said to have visited the site about 10 times. It’s said that he lavished so much money on embellishing Tōshō-gū that some advisors feared he would bankrupt the shōgunate. But the early Edo Period was a booming time economically, so it all worked out in the end.

.

A ridiculously ornate suibansha (water basin). It's used for ritual cleaning of your hands and mouth before entering a shrine. Usually they're not very interesting, but when we go back to the Edo-Tōkyō buildings, you'll find that in some cases these are all we have left.

A ridiculously ornate suibansha (water basin). It’s used for ritual cleaning of your hands and mouth before entering a shrine. Usually they’re not very interesting, but when we go back to the Edo-Tōkyō buildings, you’ll find that in some cases these are all we have left.

.

According to his wishes, his body kept for a while at Kan’ei-ji – establishing an alternating policy of burial between the two Tokugawa funerary temples. After preparations had been made at Rin’nō-ji in Nikkō, his body was transported there[iii]. Then his son, the 4th shōgun, Ietsuna, began constructing a lavish mausoleum. Iemitsu had ordered that no mausoleum ever surpass that of Ieyasu’s, so Taiyūin was made with darker colors, less adornment, and the size is smaller than Tōshō-gū. Actually, I think it’s the more beautiful of the two. Oh, the buildings face Tōshō-gū out of respect.

.

Copper lamps at Taiyūin. Love this shot because the mist reminds me of Nikkō and the ghostly B/W shots of Daitokuin.

Copper lamps at Taiyūin.
Love this shot because the mist reminds me of Nikkō and the ghostly B/W shots of Daitokuin.

.

Tōshō-gū is extremely ostentatious. And while Taiyūin has much in common with it on the surface and in terms of size and craftsmanship, I think it really is reflecting a mode of architecture closer to that of some of the early Tokugawa shōgun mausolea in Edo. Unfortunately, the Edo buildings were destroyed and we can’t get a feel for how they interacted with the terrain. But the Taiyūin structures definitely work with the lay of the land for dramatic effect. Judging by the map of Daitokuin we saw yesterday, it’s obvious the architects of Edo were also incorporating their masterpieces into the natural curvature of the land.

.

I don’t have anything more to say on the topic of Taiyūin, except that it is a masterpiece of Japanese art and architecture of its day. If you have the chance to see it, you should. I guarantee you’ll love it.

.

Edo Period engineering built this.Freaking amazing!

Edo Period engineering built this.Freaking amazing!

.
For More Information About Nikkō Tōshō-gū

Nikkō Tourist Association:
http://www.nikko-jp.org/english/taiyuin/index.html
(Notice the list of buildings they mention. You’ll notice the same ones at Daitokuin and every other funerary temple.)

This woman has a nice piece on Taiyūin:
http://en.japantourist.jp/view/nikko-s-taiyu-in-mausoleum

.

.

.


[i] Remember, both Ieyasu and Hidetada were products of the Sengoku Period.

[ii] Since the bakumatsu (1850’s-1860’s), the Japanese have used the term 鎖国 sakoku closed country (literally, “locked” or “chained”). Recent scholarship of the Edo Period has come to favor the term 海禁 kaikin maritime restrictions. While I’m cool with both words, the average Japanese person still uses the term sakoku to describe this isolationist policy. I’ll leave this one to the scholars…

[iii] Rin’nō-ji still oversees Taiyūin to this day.

Daitokuin

In Japanese History, Japanese Shrines & Temples, Tokugawa Shogun Graves, Travel in Japan on May 29, 2013 at 1:23 am

徳院
Daitokuin (Tower of Benevolence & Virtue)
二代将軍徳川秀忠公
2nd Shōgun, Lord Tokugawa Hidetada
Zōjō-ji


Tokugawa Hidetada Daitokuin Taitokuin Zojoji Shiba Mausoleum

The Main Hall of Daitokuin (btw, Taitokuin is another possible reading).
You may want to refer back to this picture later.
BTW, if you go here, this picture shows a hill on the left side. This is incorrect. The whole area was relatively level, it being located at the top of a hill anyways.
The modern “main gate” has been moved to a new location. But the original spot is marked with a signpost.

Tokugawa Hidetada.


To the average Japanese his name has sort of dissipated into the ether. If they remember him at all, he’s the uninteresting guy between Ieyasu and Iemitsu. To fans of the Sengoku Era, he’s kinda boring compared to all the major warlords of the day. To fans of the Edo Era, he’s the son of a great man and the father of another great man, but not a great man himself.


But in my opinion, Hidetada’s reputation as a boring shōgun is totally unfair.


Part of his bad rep is the fact that he was Tokugawa Ieyasu’s second son. In the final throes of the Sengoku Period, Ieyasu had ordered his first son, Nobuyasu, to commit seppuku after a period of house arrest for suspected treason against Oda Nobunaga. Famously, Ieyasu is said to have regretted this order until he died. But such was life in Sengoku Japan. To make things worse, at the Battle of Sekigahara – Ieyasu’s most important battle – Hidetada arrived late… late as in, after the battle. Ieyasu was pissed off like a motherfucker and never forgot this.


Why do I think this is unfair?


1 – It’s not Hidetada’s fault he was born second (primogeniture was supremely important at the time)

2 – It’s not Hidetada’s fault that Nobuyasu was (apparently) a dick and got mixed up with people who were plotting Nobunaga’s murder (whether this was true or not is unknown).

3 – It’s not Hidetada’s fault that Nobunaga insisted on executing Nobuyasu and that Ieyasu ordered his own first born son to do seppuku in order to have an “honorable death.”

4 – Hidetada ruled for a little under 20 years. Not bad at all given the fact that even Hideyoshi hadn’t held onto power for more than 10 years. His own father, Ieyasu, abdicated from the position of shōgun after just 2 years[1]. So Hidetada set a record by just being alive.

5 – Besides being late to Sekigahara, one of the other alleged reasons Ieyasu hated Hidetada was that supposedly Hidetada married 江姫 Gō-hime for love. To Ieyasu this was the ultimate pussy move. Real men used women for making babies and managing the household while men tended to matters of war and state[2]. But I think it’s sweet.

6 Hidetada made strong relations with 朝廷 chōtei the imperial court in Kyōto by marrying the Tokugawa into the imperial bloodline.
7 – He encouraged massive building efforts in Edo, including Kan’ei-ji.
8 – He had a bad ass mustache.

Dude had a great mustache...

Dude had a great mustache…




So yeah, sometimes Tokugawa Hidetada gets cast as a pussy or as a shitty shōgun, but I don’t think that’s really the case. He definitely had the bad luck of being sandwiched between 2 remarkable shōguns in a remarkable time. But he wasn’t a shitty shōgun by any stretch of the imagination. The shitty shōguns don’t come until later. And they will come, believe me.


But in our story, Hidetada is the hero. He donated land to the Buddhist priest Tenkai to develop a second funerary temple complex at Kan’ei-ji in Ueno.  Even though Hidetada developed Kan’ei-ji, he chose to be interred at Zōjō-ji. Despite his direct order that he just have a simple gravestone, his mausoleum was said to have been the most opulent structure at Zōjō-ji. The shōgunate threw buckets of money into the development of a shrine worthy of the son of Tokugawa Ieyasu.


Most of the Daitokuin was destroyed in the firebombing of WWII and sadly never rebuilt. Luckily for us, a few structures survived. Except for one gate, the remaining pieces were sent to 不動寺 Fudō-ji in Tokorozawa, Saitama. Looking at the pictures of the original structures, they do look quite elaborate. If you see the restored 惣門 sōmon main gate in Shiba Park today, you’ll be shocked at how intense it is. Whether it looked like that in the Edo Period or not, I don’t know… but when it was new it probably did shine like that. Also seeing the level of detail and craftsmanship of the remaining pieces in Saitama, it really breaks my heart that all these treasures were lost forever.  Having spent the last 3 days sorting through as many photos as I could, I really do believe it’s a tragedy that these buildings were not only destroyed but never rebuilt.


Structure Name

Description

Condition

Location

殿

honden

Main temple

Destroyed

Shiba Park

(ruins)

watarō

Like an outdoor hallway that separated the oku no in from the honden.

Destroyed

Shiba Park

(ruins)

nakamon

Middle gate (2x)

Destroyed

Shiba Park

(ruins)

sukibei

A latticework fence common at shrines

Destroyed

Shiba Park

(ruins)

水盤舎 2

suibansha

Water basins for ritual purification (2x)

Destroyed

Shiba Park

(ruins)

全部

oku no in

Inner sanctuary complex;
included the 2 story pagoda that housed Hidetada’s remains and series of gates and buildings and a 5 story pagoda.

Everything

Destroyed

Shiba Park

(ruins)

sōmon

Main gate

Restored to bizarrely perfect condition

Shiba Park


勅額

chokugakumon

Imperial scroll gate (bears the okurigō gifted by the emperor upon the deceased; bears the shrine’s namesake)

Maintained in good condition

Fudō-ji
Tokorozawa
(moved in 1960)

丁子

chōjimon

Clove gate

(led into the area that led into the cemetery)

Maintained in good condition

Fudō-ji
Tokorozawa
(moved in 1960)

御成

o-inari mon

Gate dedicated to Inari


(I’ll talk more about this when I get back to Tōkyō place names…)

Maintained in good condition

Fudō-ji
Tokorozawa
(moved in 1960)

銅灯籠
dōtōrō
石灯籠
ishitōrō

Copper & stone lamps for illumination at night 

Many have survived

Most are at Fudō-ji

(Tokorozawa)

崇源院
霊牌
gen’in
reihaisho


Mausoleum of Gō, Hidetada’s wife.
gen’in is her ingō (“-in” name).

Destroyed

Shiba Park

(ruins)

General Map of Daitokuin

In the middle you can see a bunch of dudes in white lined up in front of the 惣門 Sōmon Main Gate. Pass through the main gate, that brings you to the 勅額門 chokugakumon imperial scroll gate. From there, you can see the 2 水盤舎 suibansha wash basins on the left and right. If you continue straight, you’ll arrive at the 本殿 honden main hall. To the right of the main you can see 崇源院 gen’in princess Gō‘s grave. To the left of the main hall,  you can go up the hill to the 奥院 oku no in, the inner sanctuary complex which housed Hidetada’s remains. The mortuary building was an octagonal, 2-story pagoda with a smaller 2-story urn made of wood inside. There was also another worship hall called a 拝殿 haiden in the oku no in. The five story pagoda next to it was technically part of Zōjō-ji, and not Daitokuin. Apparently some fences and monuments remained in situ until the 1960’s when they were either demolished or moved to another location.

Daitokuin Complex at Zojoji

Daitokuin Complex at Zojoji.
You’ll probably want to refer back to this painting throughout the article.


Daitokuin Complex at Zojoji (Legend)

Daitokuin Complex at Zojoji (Legend)

総門 Sōmon
The Main Gate

This type of gate is the street level gate. It’s meant a boundary between the mundane and the spiritual.
Called Sōmon in Japanese, the main gate survived all sorts of conflagrations and earthquakes. How it survived the firebombing that destroyed most of Zōjō-ji is beyond me. It’s been restored and it is splendid. But it looks so new that… I dunno. You be the judge.

Somon Gate (a type of nitemon gate). Notice the river on the right. Also in the background you can see one of the water basins (left) and the choji mon (right). You can also see the stairs to the imperial scroll gate.

Somon Gate (a type of nitemon gate).
Notice the river on the right.
Also in the background you can see one of the water basins (left) and the choji mon (right).
You can also see the stairs to the imperial scroll gate.

Tokugawa Hidetada's Grave - Main Gate

Daitokuin’s Main Gate
(you can see the Imperial Scroll Gate in the background)

The Main Entrance to Daitokuin as it looks today.

The Main Entrance to Daitokuin as it looks today.
This gate was originally located at the top of the hill, behind a small stream. The ruins of the streambank and original location of this gate and the imperial scroll gate are preserved and clearly marked in English and Japanese.

The Main Gate of Daitokuin at Christmas... What would Edo People think of this...?

The Main Gate of Daitokuin at Christmas… Looking down the hill at the “exit hole” of the Main Gate.

The derelict gate

The temple precinct was converted into a driving range and the main gate sat at the entrance until the restoration in 1997.

勅額門 chokugakumon
The Imperial Scroll Gate

The emperor — supposedly — thinks up and writes the posthumous name of the shōgun and then that handwritten calligraphy is made into a plaque for the true entrance to the temple. While the sōmon is the street level entrance, the imperial scroll gate, called 勅額門 chokugakumon announces  the name of the temple. It’s the gate between the mundane world and the spiritual realm of the deified shōgun.

Tokugawa Hidetada's Imperial Scroll Gate Saitama Zojoji

The Imperial Scroll Gate survived and was moved to Fudoji in Tokorozawa, Saitama in 1960.

水盤舎 suibansha
Water Basins for Ritual Purification

A crappy picture from the bakumatsu... luckily for us, despite its shittiness as a photograph, it clearly shows the courtyard between the Imperial Scroll Gate and the Main Hall -- along with the two wash basins.

A crappy picture from the bakumatsu… luckily for us, despite its shittiness as a photograph, it clearly shows the courtyard. On the left is the chokugakumon (imperial scroll gate), in the middle (top and bottom) are 2 matching wash basins (suibansha), on the right, the large building is the honden (main hall). In the middle bottom is a small gate called the choujimon (clove gate). You may want to refer back to this picture throughout the article.

daitokuin_courtyard

I found a better version of the photo.
It’s a little smaller, but it’s clear enough to see what’s going on.

Taken from the right side of the Imperial Scroll Gate, this picture shows the water basin and the fence and the main hall.

Taken from the right side of the Imperial Scroll Gate, this picture shows the water basin and the fence and the main hall.

Again, from the right side of the inside pf the imperial scroll gate, another view of the main hall with the washbasins on either side.

From the left side of the imperial scroll gate. Both wash basins can be seen and princess Go’s funerary temple can also be seen in the background.

本殿 honden
The Main Hall

Detail of the main hall's roof...

Detail of the main hall’s roof…

Nakamon, the middle gate. This gate led to the main hall. You can clearly see the latticework on the suikbei (fence).

Nakamon, the middle gate.
This gate led to the main hall.
You can clearly see the latticework on the suikbei (fence).

奥院 oku no in
The Inner Sanctuary (Mortuary)

From Hidetada’s main hall, if we turn left and walk up through the gate we ‘ll come to a steep staircase which leads to the 奥院 oku no in, the inner sanctuary or mortuary/cemetery. At the top of the stairs is another gate called 御稲荷門 O-narimon. This was a gate for the personal use of the shougun and his attendants. 100 years later, another o-nari gate would be built at Yūshōin.

O-narimon, leading to the Oku no in (inner sanctuary). Note the bridge. On the painting above you can just barely make out a small stream behind the gate.

Oinarimon, the Inari Gate, leading to the Oku no in (inner sanctuary). Note the bridge. On the painting above you can just barely make out a small stream behind the Inari Gate.

Oinarimon, the Inari Gate as it looks today. Now it is preserved at Fudo-ji in Tokorozawa, Saitama.

O-narimon, (private gate for the shogun) as it looks today.
Now it is preserved at Fudo-ji in Tokorozawa, Saitama.

Close up of the Inari Gate. The detail is fantastic and the color gives you a good idea of how the structures in the black and white photos would have looked. Beautiful!

Close up of the Inari Gate. The detail is fantastic and the color gives you a good idea of how the structures in the black and white photos would have looked. Beautiful!

An even closer look at the Inari Gate.

An even closer look at the Inari Gate.

Next we come to another gate called 中門 Nakamon, middle gate, this one leads to an octagonal 2-story pagoda. Inside the pagoda was a 2-story wooden urn which housed the remains of Hidetada.

The fence and nakamon surrounding the 2-story pagoda.

The tamagaki (fence) and nakamon surrounding the 2-story pagoda.

The fence and the 2-story pagoda.

The fence and the 2-story pagoda and the tamagaki (fence).

Nakamon and the 2-story pagoda with wood props.

Nakamon and the 2-story pagoda with wood props.

The Nakamon, middle gate, entrance to the 2-story pagoda.

The Nakamon, middle gate, entrance to the 2-story pagoda.
(I’m not sure, but I think this picture is taken with the photographer’s back to the pagoda, meaning the structure in the background is the haiden, hall of worship.)

Hidetada's funerary urn.

The wooden urn that held Tokugawa Hidetada’s remains stood inside the 2-story pagoda.

The wooden urn that held Tokugawa Hidetada's remains stood inside the 2-story pagoda.

A colorized shot of the wooden funerary urn and a funky table in front of it.
Note the carved dragons on the wall in the background.

After the firebombing, this is all that was left of the octagonal pagoda that housed Hidetada's wooden urn.  I'm not sure what the giant poop in the center is all about.

After the firebombing, this is all that was left of the octagonal pagoda that housed Hidetada’s wooden urn.
I’m not sure what the giant poop in the center is all about.

Pretty sure this is the remains of Hidetada's octagonal grave.

Pretty sure this is the remains of Hidetada’s octagonal grave.

In front of the 2-story pagoda was the 拝殿 haiden, another hall of worship separate from the 本殿 honden, main hall. In the close up of the Nakamon above, you can see the roof behind the 玉垣 tamagaki fence. I don’t have a picture of the outside of the building, but you can see it in the painting above.

Woodwork detail of the 2-story pagoda.

Detail of the outside of the haiden.

Inside the haiden worship hall.

Inside the haiden worship hall.

While it wasn’t part of Daitokuin, on the hill across from the haiden, there was a 5-story pagoda.

The 5-story pagoda of Zojoji

The 5-story pagoda of Zojoji.
Note the 2 benches. Shiba Park used to be really nice, huh?

Now, if we turn around and go back down the stairs and walk past the main hall, we’ll find a gate called 丁子門 chōjimon, the clove gate. If we pass through the clove gate, we will enter another mortuary called Sūgen’in. This is the grave of Hidetada’s wife, Gō.

Choujimon - the clove gate - is still preserved at Fudo-ji in Tokorozawa, Saitama.

Chojimon – the clove gate – is still preserved at Fudo-ji in Tokorozawa, Saitama.

崇源院 Sūgen’in
Source of Adoration
Posthumous name of Princess Gō.

Sugen'in

Sugen’in

Sugen'in Note there are more trees and there is a sign for tourists.

Sugen’in
Note there are more trees and there is a sign for tourists.

Close up of the gate to Sugen'in. (love the lazy just sitting on the stairs...)

Close up of the gate to Sugen’in.
(love the lazy just sitting on the stairs…)

Hidetada and Go-hime's funerary urns were made of wood, so they were lost in the firebombing. They were enshrined together. Today their remains rest in the Tokugawa Cemetery at Zojo-ji.

Hidetada and Go-hime’s funerary urns were made of wood, so they were lost in the firebombing.
They were enshrined together.
Today their remains rest in the Tokugawa Cemetery at Zojo-ji.

And finally, the copper lamps

Many stone lamps and copper lamps were on the premises. Some of the lamps that survived the firebombing were re-used at Zōjō-ji, but most were relocated to Fudō-ji in 1960.

The suriviing copper lamps at Fudo-ji.

The surviving copper lamps at Fudo-ji.

The ruins of Daitokuin have been turned into a park, you can see the area well from Tokyo Tower.

The ruins of Daitokuin have been turned into a park, you can see the area well from Tokyo Tower.

If you walk through the Somon (main gate) and go up the stairs, at the top of the hill there is an exhibit of the excavated remains of one of the waterways that coursed through the Daitokuin complex.

If you walk through the Somon (main gate) and go up the stairs, at the top of the hill there is an exhibit of the excavated remains of one of the waterways that coursed through the Daitokuin complex.

 

Wanna Support My Blog?
Click Here to Donate
Click Here to Buy Awesome Nerdy J-History Goods

 

_________________________________

[1] It must be said, however, that Ieyasu abdicated in order to oversee the succession of his shōgunate from behind the scenes. So in as much as Hidetada was nominally shōgun, it could be said that Ieyasu was still in charge. Nevertheless, as shōgun, Hidetada wasn’t a puppet. Edicts and policies enacted during his reign are distinct from Ieyasu’s.


[2] s name was written many different ways. She was also called 江与 Eyo and , among other things. It’s really complicated, so I’m just calling her Gō.

Toshogu

In Japanese History, Japanese Shrines & Temples, Tokugawa Shogun Graves, Travel in Japan on May 27, 2013 at 3:34 pm

東照宮
Tōshō-gū (Divine Prince of Eastern Light)
―代将軍徳川家康公
1st Shōgun, Lord Tokugawa Ieyasu
Kunōzan, Nikkō, Tōkyō (Kan’ei-ji, Zōjō-ji), etc.

Grave containing Tokugawa Ieyasu's remains.

Grave containing Tokugawa Ieyasu’s remains (Nikko)

Nikkō Tōshō-gū is one of the most famous shrines in all of Japan. It’s one of the biggest tourist attractions in the whole country. It’s a UNESCO World Heritage Site and it’s kept in excellent condition, so it’s well documented in books and on the internet. For that reason my descriptions of Tōshō-gū probably won’t be long. If you want more info about Nikkō Tōshō-gū (or some other Tōshō-gū), I’ll give some links at the end of the article.

What the hell is a Tōshōgū?

This name marks the enshrinement of the kami named 凍傷大権現 Tōshō Dai-Gongen, the deified Tokugawa Ieyasu, founder of the Tokugawa shōgunate. The name roughly translates as “The Supreme Incarnation of the Divine Prince of Eastern Illumination” (or “Light”).

Technically speaking, Ieyasu was only shōgun for about 2 years. Although he was the de facto ruler of Japan from 1600, he officially became shōgun in 1603. He retired in 1605 and became an 大御所 ōgosho (retired guy pulling the strings from behind the scenes). He did this to establish a clear dynasty and try to oversee the succession of his shōgunate for as long as he could. Around 1607 he moved into 駿府城 Sunpu-jō Sunpu Castle in Shizuoka where he was running things from behind the scenes. Ieyasu finally kicked the bucket in 1616 and was buried and enshrined at nearby 久能山 Kunōzan Mt. Kunōzan. Kunōzan Tōshō-gū is still very much active today.

Kunozan Toshogu

Kunozan Toshogu. The original!

As per Ieyasu’s express wishes, on the one year anniversary of his death, the second shōgun, Tokugawa Hidetada, moved the remains to the mountains of Nikkō and built a modest temple and shrine complex there where Ieyasu was deified as the divine protector of Japan.

The third shōgun, Tokugawa Iemitsu idolized Ieyasu and threw wads of money at Tōshō-gū for expansion projects which developed the site to the size that it is today. I’ve heard that Iemitsu’s building project cost about $400,000,000.

Main gate of Nikko Toshogu.

Main gate of Nikko Toshogu.

While there are many iconic buildings at Nikkō Tōshō-gū, 2 pieces of artwork achieved international renown after Japan opened up in the bakumatsu; 三猿 sanzaru the 3 “wise” monkeys and 眠リ猫 nemuri neko the sleeping cat.

There is a useless proverb in Japan, 日光を見ない中は結構と言うな Nikkō wo minai uchi wa kekkō to iu na, which always comes up in regards to Nikkō Tōshō-gū. I can’t think of any situation where a person would use this proverb except when they go to see Tōshō-gū and some old person quotes it. It translates as “Don’t say 結構 kekkō until you’ve seen 日光 Nikkō.” The gist of the expression is “you ain’t seen shit ‘til you seen Nikkō Tōshō-gū.” The stupid thing about this proverb is that there’s some kind of half-assed ‘rhyme’ based on the last syllables of both words こう kō. But in modern Japanese, 結構 kekkō is a pretty blasé term. It means “decent” or “that’s fine” or even “no thank you.” Maybe in the Edo Period the meaning was stronger – and maybe people had a higher tolerance for trite expressions. Also, there’s no situation that I can even imagine where saying this would be appropriate, except when you visit Nikkō Tōshō-gū – and even then surely there’s something better to say…. like “wow!”

Ueno Toshogu in the bakumatsu or very early Meiji.

Ueno Toshogu in the bakumatsu or very early Meiji.

The phrase いまいちだ imaichi da (“close but no cigar”) is said to be derived from this area. There was a small town next to Nikkō called 今市 Imaichi. As Nikkō developed into the fantastically beautiful pilgrimage site that it is still today, the neighboring town of Imaichi stayed the same, a backwater mountain town. People would be blown away by Nikkō and then see Imaichi and be all like “Meh.” And so now the word いまいち imaichi means something like “almost” or “not bad” or… well, I think “meh” pretty much sums it up.

Kawagoe Toshogu

Senba Toshogu (Kawagoe)

Fans of the Shinsengumi might be interested to know that after the Boshin War, Matsudaira Katamori, lord of Aizu, was made Chief Priest of Nikkō Tōshō-gū. In this capacity, he continued to serve the Tokugawa despite the fall of the shōgunate.

Various Tōshō-gū were erected around Japan. I’ve mentioned the first two, in Kunōzan and Nikkō. In Tōkyō, there is one in Ueno Park, former Kan’ei-ji, which is very nice. There is another one in Shiba Park at Zōjō-ji, which was rebuilt after the firebombing in WWII. There is a huge gingko tree said to have been planted by Tokugawa Iemitsu which survived the bombing and is a cultural asset of the Tōkyō Metropolis. Kawagoe has a somewhat famous Tōshō-gū. Nagoya also has a famous Tōshō-gū. This spring I was in Gyōda, Saitama, which is the straight up boonies and even they had a Tōshō-gū. There was also a Tōshō-gū in 紅葉山 Momijiyama, one of the gardens on the premises of Edo Castle. In fact, all the shōgun’s were enshrined in Momijiyama. But when the Meiji Emperor moved into Edo Castle, he fucking tore all of them down.

Dick move, bro. Dick move.

Momijiyama Toshogu

Momijiyama Toshogu (Edo Castle Toshogu, Tokugawa Shogun Cemetery). This picture depicts Momijiyama and you can see Tokugawa Iemitsu returning by palanquin from veneration at the shrine.

In the Edo Period there were nearly 500 shrines called Tōshō-gū throughout the country, there are thought to be about 130 today. The shōgunate expected daimyō to venerate Tōshō Dai-Gongen (Ieyasu) routinely. But daimyō processions were extremely costly. This is the reason that so many Tōshō-gū were built all over the country. Of course, under the best of conditions, Nikkō Tōshō-gū was the preferred destination for adoration of Ieyasu. But sometimes things didn’t work out, and in those times, daimyō could attend to their veneration duties at a local Tōshō-gū.

Hiroshima Toshogu

Hiroshima Toshogu


For More Information About Nikkō Tōshō-gū

List of Tōshō-gū Shrines (Japanese only):
http://www.toshogu.net/list.htm
(This site includes links to websites/contact information for many Tōshō-gū)

Nikkō Tourist Association has some good information on the sites of Tōshō-gū in English, albeit a fairly clumsy translation:
http://www.nikko-jp.org/english/toshogu/index.html

What does Aoyama mean?

In Japanese History on April 26, 2013 at 1:19 am

A

青山
Aoyama (Blue Mountain, Green Mountain)

Aerial view of Aoyama Cemetery

Aerial view of Aoyama Cemetery

Today, Aoyama is one of Tōkyō’s most fashionable and expensive neighborhoods. It borders Harajuku and Shibuya and is famous for shopping, high end dining and has a remarkable amount of green space – sorely lacking in other areas of the city.

The word is made of two characters:
ao blue or green (depending on who you ask)
yama mountain
Aoyama is a family name.

Aoyama Coat of Arms

The Gujo Aoyama mondokoro (coat of arms)

In the Edo Period, 郡上藩 Gujō-han Gujō Domain (located in 美濃国 Mino no kuni Mino Province; modern day 岐阜県 Gifu-ken Gifu Prefecture) was administered by the Gujō branch of the Aoyama clan. The castle and seat of the domainal government was at 八幡城 Hachiman-jō Hachiman Castle, so sometimes the domain is referred to as Hachiman-han. Since the clan originated in Mikawa, the family had a special relationship with the Tokugawa. At one point, during the Sengoku Era, they were responsible for the education of Tokugawa Hidetada who would later become the second shōgun.

Gujo-Hachiman Castle Today (it's a reconstruction from 1933), but the town and castle look well worth a visit.

Gujo-Hachiman Castle Today (it’s a reconstruction from 1933), but the town and castle look well worth a visit.

They had a sprawling palatial residence (下屋敷 shimoyashiki) in the outskirts of Edo. When daimyō residences were confiscated by the Meiji government for re-purposing, the land of the Aoyama residence was converted into present day Aoyama cemetery. It’s a massive urban cemetery. If you walk around it, you can get a feel for how large the estate once was. Even though the family was only worth 48,000 koku, this sub-residence was one of the biggest in all of Edo. None of the domain’s buildings exist today, but the Aoyama family temple, 梅窓院 Baisōin Baisō Temple, can still be found in Minami Aoyama.

Supposedly, the building on the right is one of the Aoyama residences.

Supposedly, the building on the right is one of the Aoyama residences.

 

 

 

Wanna Support My Blog?
Click Here to Donate
Click Here to Buy Awesome Nerdy J-History Goods

%d bloggers like this: