and having never travelled what would you make of a giraffe?
which was the question that perplexed Emperor Yongle of China in the early 1400s, it was
(possibly) a qilin, a mythical creature that has been compared to a unicorn in
Western mythology, this happened during China’s brief, medieval golden age of
exploration under the reign of Yongle, the second Ming emperor, the emperor is
remembered for beginning construction of Beijing’s Forbidden City, Rachel Nuwer writes, but he also bankrolled a series of exploration and
trade expeditions, seven in total, that made it as far as the Cape of Good Hope
in what is today South Africa, on the fourth such voyage, in this article in the National Geographic,
Admiral Zheng He’s “Treasure Fleet”—an astonishing fleet of ships that remain
the largest wooden ships ever built—brought back, among other things, a
giraffe, setting the stage for a fascinating and mostly-forgotten cultural
exchange, Zheng had met up in Bengal with envoys from Malindi, which is now
part of Kenya. “The men from Malindi had brought with them as tribute giraffes,
and they gave one of those giraffes to the Chinese, who took it home,” writes
Sarah Zielinski for Science News,
the emperor “was in the habit of receiving exotic animals,
including birds, as gifts from foreign countries—elephants and rhinoceroses
from Champa, bears from Siam, parrots and peacocks from Java and ostriches
from Aden,” writes historian Sally K. Church ”—and there were was even a
special part of the imperial grounds in Nanjing, the jin-yuan or forbidden
gardens, where they were kept and cared for.”
but the giraffes were obviously something special, Church writes, of all
the animals that the emperor received, the giraffe was the one he asked a court
artist to paint, the result is an image of a giraffe as seen through the eyes
of the Chinese court—as a qilin. Though Church points out that “traditional
representations of a qilin look like a cross between a deer or horse and a lion
or dragon," not very giraffe-like, there were enough similarities, as
Zielinski writes, the giraffe met or nearly met a number of criteria associated
with the qilin: it had skin-covered horns (supposedly the qilin had just one
horn), a body like a deer with cloven hooves, and a brightly coloured coat, but
qilin were an auspicious sign–so although the emperor downplayed the potential
qilin and the second giraffe that joined it a year later, he didn't stamp out
the rumour entirely, “Chinese exploration ended in 1433, nine years after
Yongle’s death, when isolationism once again took over Chinese policy,”
Zielinksi writes, no word on what happened to the giraffes, but hopefully they were well cared for.
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