Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan

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Eminent Domain and Ancient Japan Dec 16, 2022

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This episode we hang up on Keitai and begin to take a look at the mess that follows him. There are still a lot of questions about this period, but we'll try to tackle what we can and continue to pay attention to the clues about how things worked during this period. For more information, check out https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-78 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is Episode 78: Imminent Domain in Ancient Japan First off, a huge shout out to listener, Zach. When I asked everyone about suggestions for transcripts, he went out and found a tool to auto-generate them, tried it out already, and sent me example results. So I'll be going over the tool and seeing what I can do to get transcripts uploaded for the podcast, hopefully making everything a bit more accessible. Thanks again, Zach! Second, I want to address the way "Keitai" (as in Keitai Tennou, the first sovereign of this current dynasty) reminds me of "keitai" as in "keitai denwa", or "cell phone". This leads to some interesting notes on Japanese language, especially for those of us coming at it from outside. While both of those words sound the same to my English-speaking ear, especially in an English sentence, and are spelled the same in hiragana, they are slightly different, and as a Japanese instructor recently pointed out to me, they don't sound the same in Japanese. This has to do with a certain tonal quality to Japanese that isn't typically taught, and it is almost more about the difference between accents than anything else. In fact, there are even regional differences, all having to do with tone. Or perhaps, more precisely, having to do with pitch. As one listener pointed out, this is more properly referred to as a "pitch accent", and falls somewhere between a truly tonal language, like Putonghua, aka Mandarin, or the Thai language, and a stress-accented language like English and most European languages. As an example, take the word "ame". It can mean "rain" or it can mean "candy", depending on the tone you use. Back when I was studying in Japan, I knew a couple who were from different parts of Japan, and the wife had a bit of an accent. She would say "ame ga furu"—the rain is falling—and her children would laugh because, as they had been brought up, it sounded like "ame ga furu"—candy is falling from the sky. Now, obviously they knew what she was saying, so if you don't hear a difference, don't worry, you will probably still be understood. Nonetheless, I think it is a curious feature of Japanese that often doesn't get mentioned that these sorts of things exist, and I thought this might be a good time to share. So, for anyone else who thinks I overreached in seeing Keitai Tennou as the cellphone sovereign, you just might be correct. I'm still going to giggle a little bit when I hear it though. Anyway, back to history. The last few episodes have been covering the reign of Wohodo no Ohokimi in the beginning of the 6th century, and today we'll wrap up his reign and talk about his successors. To recap: Wohodo is said to have come to the throne in 507 and reigned up until his death in either 531 or 534. His ascension is strange—with the death of Wohatsuse, aka Buretsu Tennou, without any heirs the court scoured the land for a suitable candidate. They claim that Wohodo was a descendant of Homuda Wake, aka Oujin Tennou, some 5 generations back, and even descended from Ikume Iribiko through his maternal line. However accurate this was, it is clear that the line of Ohosazaki, aka Nintoku Tennou, the sovereigns responsible for the giant keyhole tumuli in the Kawachi region, such as Daisen Ryo, had come to an end with Wohatsuse—at least along the paternal line. So Wohodo had to be brought in from the distant land of Kochi, on the Japan Sea side of central to eastern Honshuu. This raises some interesting questions about the relationship between Yamato and other Wa polities in Japan. Some scholars have suggested that Wohodo was a part of a separate royal family in Kochi—that many of the regions, including Izumo, Kibi, and Northern Kyushu all had their own independent polities that were only loosely tied to Yamato, which may have been primus inter pares—first among equals. It is also possible by this time that Yamato had some kind of a paramountcy; that is to say that they had become central enough that the other states were not seen as equals. Still, local governance would have more directly revolved around the local chieftains. An example of this local independence is seen during this reign when Iwai, the lord of Northern Kyushu, flexes his muscles and tries to take control of the shipping routes between the archipelago and the continent. This is ultimately put down by a military expedition, suggesting that Yamato did possess some amount of military coercive power, along with any spiritual or religious cachet they may have had. It also seems quite likely that another component holding things together among these different polities were the various marriage alliances. We've seen this in the ancient stories and so it is quite possibly true that Wohodo did have both paternal and maternal connections to Yamato. It is also possible that these were just two in a web of relationships that could have been called on, and doesn't necessarily mean that he had the strongest claim to the throne. In fact, the Chronicles even point out that there was another candidate who also was selected before him, but who fled due to the Yamato court's poor communication tactics. Overall, it is unclear why Wohodo was chosen as sovereign, and even his hand in things seems relatively light. In the Chronicles, the focus during this reign is much more on those serving the court. This includes individuals like Hodzumi no Omi no Oshiyama, Mononobe no Ohomuraji no Arakahi, Kena no Omi, and, of course, Ohotomo no Ohomuraji no Kanamura. Even then, most of the reign seems to be dealing with the interactions between Yamato and the continent. Tamna, Baekje, Nimna, Kara, Silla, Ara, and other polities are all brought up, some appearing in the narrative for the first time here. Even the rebellion of Iwai, in Northern Kyushu, was focused on its effects with continental relations. The Sendai Kuji Hongi focuses just on the events in the archipelago and, even then, on the actions of the sovereign and the royal family. Most of it is genealogical, though it does note specifically that Prince Magari Ohoe—also known as Ohine in the Nihon Shoki—was moved in to the palace for the Heir to the Throne. And this brings up the matter of succession, which we discussed somewhat before. Wohodo had two important wives or consorts. First, when he took the throne, Wohodo was already married to at least one wife, Menoko, the daughter of Owari no Muraji no Kusaka. Owari is the land focused on the modern area of western Aichi prefecture, including Nagoya. She is named in the Kuji Hongi as being raised up to the status of "Royal Consort" when Wohodo took the throne—normally the primary wife of the sovereign is raised up as the queen, but of course, our story took a turn and the court suggested that Wohodo marry a second woman, Tashiraka hime and raise her up as his queen. This strikes me as an overtly political action. Tashiraka hime was either the daughter of Woke no Ohokimi, aka Ninken Tennou, and thus sister to the previous sovereign, Wohatsuse, or, by inference, the daughter of Shiraga no Ohokimi, aka Seinei Tennou, though this seems less likely to me. Whatever the case, she is presented as a daughter from the previous royal line, so by suggesting that Wohodo marry her, the court may have been trying to help legitimize his rule—either that, or this is a fictional connection inserted by the Chroniclers to try to sort things out later. Because you see, when Wohodo no Ohokimi died, which happened in either 531 or 534—there is some disagreement—it wasn't his son by his second wife and full Queen Tashiraka hime who succeeded him. Rather it was Magari no Ohine, his eldest son by his first wife and consort Menoko, who came to the throne and is known as Ankan Tennou. Skipping ahead, we'll see that both of Menoko's sons would take the throne, albeit briefly. Prince Ohine took the throne for about 2 years, and his brother, Take Ohiro Kunioshi Tate would reign for three, being named Senka, or Senkwa, Tennou by the Chroniclers. It was only after those five years that the son of Wohodo and his Queen, Ame Kunioshi Hirakihiro Niha, actually took the throne. The Nihon Shoki claims that this son, aka Kimmei Tennou, was the rightful heir, but that he was too young, and so his brothers took the throne until he was old enough. This seems more than a little suspicious, however. First of all, both of the brothers are counted as full sovereigns—as Ohokimi—and part of the line of succession, as opposed to simply being counted as regents, holding the throne until their little brother came of age. It is said their father died at the age of 82, so it is quite possible they were already in their 60s by the time they took the throne themselves, depending on when they were actually born—though records claim they were in their 70s. It is also curious that Ohine, the first to succeed his father, was clearly counted as the Crown Prince—he was set up in the palace reserved for the Crown Prince and was clearly involved in governmental affairs, as Crown Princes have been known to do before. In fact, it seems to me that Ohine and his full brother were legitimate heirs, and that something later happened to put Ame Kunioshi on the throne—and we can talk about that later. By the way, I mentioned there is some disagreement about the actual dates of Wohodo's demise. The Nihon Shoki uses 531, which seems drawn from the Baekje Annals and their account, which the compilers found more trustworthy. However, it mentions that other accounts give another year, the 28th year of the reign instead of the 25th, which would have made it 534, instead. This year is the same one given in the Sendai Kuji Hongi, but it is also significant because according to all accounts, Magari no Ohine ascended the throne the same year that his father, Wohodo no Ohokimi, passed away. If this is, indeed, the 28th year then everything appears to work out just fine, but otherwise we end up with a three year gap, at least if the stem and branch system is to be believed. Now, truth be told, Magari no Ohine's time on the throne was not long, but there is a fair amount discussed during his reign, nonetheless. We've already talked about a couple of things that happened during his father Wohodo's reign, while Ohine was a prince. First off, you may recall from last episode that Ohine had courted and wed Princess Kasuga, herself also a daughter of Oke no Ohokimi, aka Ninken Tenou, though only a half-sister to Wohatsuse no Ohokimi and Princess Tashiraga. He did it himself, without any urging by the court, it seems, but it still seems that there is more evidence here of them intertwining the various lineages; two of Wohatsuse's sisters have now been made queens, greatly increasing the chances that one of their progeny will rule in the future. This speaks, it seems, to the importance of the maternal line itself. The Chronicles take time to note that Wohodo's mother was descended from Ikume Iribiko, and to be raised up as a "Queen" one had to be able to draw a connection to a royal lineage. Even if those connections are, shall we say, less than accurate, the need for at least the fiction is itself telling in terms of what was valued. The other thing we notice is that Ohine showed up to intervene when Kanamura gave away part of Yamato's territory to Baekje. Without getting too much into whether or not it was actually Yamato's territory to give up, Ohine was certainly protesting any attempt to diminish the power of Yamato and clearly playing an important role in the government. We talked last episode about how he sent someone to stop the ambassadors on their way, but they said that it was "better to be beaten with a smaller stick than a larger one". While this speaks to the authority of Wohodo no Ohokimi over the then Prince Ohine, it seems to also indicate that Prince Ohine himself held some clout as well, just not enough to overturn Ohokimi's decision. Note that none of the other princes are mentioned at all, other than for genealogical purposes. So, Ohine comes to the throne. Magari no Ohine is also given the name Magari no Ohoye Hiro Kunioshi Take. "Ohoye" may just reference his position as the eldest sone of Wohodo no Ohokimi. As was typical, Ohine—or Ohoye, but for now I'll stick with the name we first got to know him by—moved the court to a palace in Magari no Kanahashi, which is likely where he gets his name, one possible reading of which could be "the elder son of Magari". While Kasuga no Yamada was his main squeeze and raised up as queen, he had several other consorts, including two daughters of the late Kose no Obito, who had been Oho-omi during his father's reign, as well as a daughter of Mononobe no Itahi, who had been made Ohomuraji back in the reign of Woke no Ohokimi—that is to say, Ninken Tennou. There are several stories from Ohine's reign that I'm going to talk about, and they all center around the royal granaries, or Miyake. These appear to have been centralized mechanisms for storing and distributing rice, sources of income for the court and its various members that could be granted or transferred as needed. More importantly, they were attached to certain lands and the income from that land. Presumably whoever owned or controlled a given storehouse would benefit from the rice that came to it. Since Ohine had no children—or at least no heirs—Kanamura suggested that all of the consorts be given grants of Miyake. I presume this was to ensure that they had a means of supporting themselves after he passed away. He also had various familial -Be groups created, including the Magari no Toneri-Be and the Magari no Yuki-Be, presumably to commemorate his name, Magari no Ohine. He also is credited with creating a group called the Inukahi-be, or the Dog Keeper's -Be. This is an interesting one, and some ancient explanations suggest it might be tied in with all of the Miyake that were being created. Even back in those days, guard dogs were apparently a thing, and so having a hereditary group of dog keepers who were responsible for ensuring that dogs were guarding the granaries seems to make as much sense as anything else. It also would explain why, in the following line, we are told that Sakuri Tanabe no Muraji, Agata no Inukahi no Muraji, and Naniwa no Kishi were put in charge of the revenues from the Miyake. "Agata no Inukahi" would seem to mean the "district dog keeper", and if the Inukahi-Be were assisting with the operation of the Miyake, it would make sense that they would also be one of those in charge of the revenues, and likely ensuring that they were properly administered. Another take on this, though, could be a more standardized and centralized approach to administration of the Miyake and their revenues. After all, centralization has been a continuing theme throughout the formation of the Yamato state. One of the first granary stories from Ohine's reign concerns Kashiwade no Omi no Ohomaro. Ohomaro sent a messenger to Ishimi in the land of Fusa, in what would later be Kazusa province, part of modern Chiba prefecture on the Boso peninsula. The messenger asked for local pearls, presumably for the court, but the lord of Ishimi—which is to say the Ishimi Kuni no Miyatsuko—delayed their shipm…

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Cross-Strait Relations, Part II Dec 01, 2022

Show notes

This episode we are back looking at what the Chronicles tell us about what was going on between Yamato and the various states of the peninsula, but from a very insular viewpoint. I recommend listening to Part I, first, and consider what the Chronicles are saying in a larger context. That said, we have lots going on, from the troubles with Nimna and Kara/Gaya, as well as rebellion in Tsukushi--aka Northern Kyushu. And of course, plenty of people just behaving badly, because humans haven't really changed *that* much over the centuries, unfortunately. For more, check out our podcast website: https://www.sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-77 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 77: Cross-strait Relations, Part II We are still in the early part of the sixth century, in the nominal reign of Ohodo no Ohokimi, aka Keitai Tennou, and last episode we talked about about the island of T'amna—or Tanimura—aka Jeju, as well as linguistic possibilities and the strange archaeology of South Jeolla, including keyhole shaped tombs, similar to those found in the archipelago, but with distinct Baekje features. This episode we'll see what the Japanese Chronicles—specifically the Nihon Shoki—have to say about cross-strait relations during this time. Much of this actually comes from the Baekje Annals quoted by the Chroniclers, which I actually trust a bit more than some of the oral histories, but even then we have to be careful about where the Chroniclers decided to bolster Yamato's reputation. There is a lot about Nimna, and about some of the individuals who seem to have been working between the various states on and off the peninsula. The Chronicles kicks this reign off with a note about T'amna, or Tanimura, contacting Baekje for the first time, in 509. (By the way, Korean records suggest this date is wrong—that contact happened much earlier in the 5th century, so it is unclear just why it is of such importance, but it does fit the theme, here of a focus on Baekje and the continent.) Then, in 511 it is noted that an envoy from the Wa was sent to Baekje. His name is given as something like Kuramachi – the name was translated into the language of Baekje and then coming back to us in annals written in Sinitic characters. Unfortunately, we know little else, other than that someone with an ethnic Wa seeming name was claiming to be an envoy in 511. Perhaps more importantly in this particular section, there is a mention of Baekje families who had been living in the lands of Nimna for the past three or four generations. These families had, quote-unquote, "fallen off" the Baekje registries, and were all moved back to Baekje and replaced on the registers – so it would seem that Baekje, in a sense, was regathering its own. The importance, for us, would seem to be the resurgence of Baekje's power, pulling back in those who had left its orbit, and more. We'll also see that this seems to be connected with other events, later on. A year after Kuramachi's embassy, there is another one in about 512. This is the year when Hozumi no Omi no Oshiyama, whom the Nihon Shoki names as the "governor of Tari", or Tari no Kuni no Kami, aka Tari no Kokushu, goes to Baekje with a tribute of 44 horses. Tari, as we'll see later, is an area—or polity—associated with Nimna, a connection that we will definitely be exploring in more detail, especially in regards to Oshiyama, who shows up again and again in the record of this reign, and whose loyalty to the Yamato court might be more than a bit questionable. As for the gift, well, horses, of course, had originally been brought the other way (from Baekje to the islands) in the previous centuries, but by now the islands were breeding plenty of their own. The fact that they were from Kyushu—or Tsukushi—however, is interesting. Was Kyushu a large horse-breeding center at this time? Was there something special about Kyushu horses, compared to others? Certainly T'amna horses were highly prized, but that wasn't until much later. Was it just the fact that they were able to send so many? About 8 months after Oshiyama presented the horses, Baekje sent an envoy back to the islands—presumably to Yamato—along with Oshiyama, or so it appears. This embassy requested that four provinces of Nimna—Upper and lower Tari, Syata, and Muro—all be ceded to Baekje. After all, they were close to Baekje, geographically, and the people were already co-mingling. Oshiyama concurred with this assessment, and said as much to Ohotomo no Kanamura, who was clearly acting as something of the prime minister these days, who agreed and told the sovereign, Wohodo, that they should indeed acquiesce and hand them over. Wohodo concurred, and ordered Mononobe no Arakai, another powerful noble of the court, to go and make it happen. That said, not everyone was pleased with this decision, and Monoboe no Arakai's own wife urged him to reconsider. After all, hadn't the kami themselves given that land to Yamato? Who was he to go and give them up? Arakai was swayed by her arguments, but found himself in a pickle. He couldn't just deny the sovereign's command. And so Arakai feigned that he was ill, forcing Wohodo to choose someone else to deliver the news. Now when Prince Ohine, the eldest son of the sovereign, Wohodo, heard about all this, he, too, was rather surprised and taken aback. He immediately sent a messenger to stop the envoys before they left, but when the messenger met with the envoys they listened, but decided to follow through. After all, the plan to give up the four provinces was already approved by the sovereign, and he overruled the prince. As it says in the Nihon Shoki it is "better to be beaten with a smaller stick than a larger one", meaning they would rather incur the Prince's ire than the sovereign's—not to mention the fact that the King of Baekje was unlikely to be pleased, either. When the circumstances of all this got out, rumors started to spread that Oshiyama and Kanamura had been paid off by Baekje to push this whole thing through. Clearly not everyone was happy with the decision, but it seems that what was done was done. So let's talk about who these people are and the context around it. First off, we have Hozumi no Oshiyama, whom I mentioned earlier. He's supposedly the governor of Tari, in Nimna, and he had apparently been sent to Baekje at some point as an envoy, bringing horses from Kyushu. The Baekje annals even given him a Baekje title. So I have to wonder whether he was even a vassal of Yamato, much as I wonder about the envoy mentioned earlier in the Baekje records, Kuramachi. If we don't make the assumption that Yamato is the only Wa polity operating on the peninsula, it opens up the possibility that these could be envoys from some other group—perhaps even Nimna or Kara, or one of their smaller political units. Of course, the Japanese side of the story, coming to us through the Chronicles, is that Nimna at this time was under the control of the "Mimana no Nihonfu", or the Japanese Government Office of Nimna, aka Mimana. Besides the anachronism—Japan still wasn't known as "Nihon" and at best this would be the "Wa-fu" or "Yamato-fu"—modern scholars have largely moved away from the notion that Nimna was a Japanese colony. It does appear to have been a close ally, and there may have even been a permanent diplomatic office set up to deal with trade and various cross-strait issues. It is even possible that it was largely made up of ethnic Wa people, or that they played a major role in the state, for all that we know. How tied this was to Yamato is another thing entirely. So Oshiyama may have been from Yamato, but he just as easily could have been from Kyushu or from one of the groups of Wa people in Nimna or other parts of the Korean peninsula. His name does appear to be reflective of a Japonic name, so we assume that he was ethnic Wa, regardless of whom he served, and he very well may have been an independent agent, the actual governor of the areas that were being ceded to Baekje. This makes more than a little sense to me, given his title and everything else. It is also possible that some of these titles came at a later point—perhaps even because of his work to help get them turned over to Baekje. The second individual in our little drama is Ohotomo no Kanamura. He was the Ohomuraji of the Ohotomo, and appears to have been the one pulling the strings in Yamato. He was the one who put Wohodo on the throne, and he seems to be the one who headed up the negotiations; he simply informed Wohodo of his recommendation and received his guidance. We've talked about Kanamura before and he will come up again in the narrative. Despite the rumors of bribery that are mentioned, reading ahead we can see that he was still confirmed as Ohomuraji when Prince Ohine eventually came to power as Ankan Tennou, so clearly this whole episode didn't ruin their relationship that much—or perhaps it is just that Kanamura was that powerful. It is hard to know for certain. Then there is Mononobe no Arakai—or possibly Arakahi or even Arakabi back in the day. Like Kanamura, he has also been around since at least the previous sovereign, and he has some influence at court. He is one of the Big Three mentioned in bringing Wohodo to power—Kanamura, Arakai, and Kose no Obito, the apparent Oho-omi, though we don't hear nearly so much from him. While it isn't always the case, typically the Mononobe are brought in when there is some expectation of violence or martial activity, which makes Arakai an interesting choice, and a possibly telling one, suggesting that this may not have been a simple transfer, and perhaps the sovereign of Yamato's word alone would not be enough to enforce this secession of these districts to Baekje. After all, we occasionally also hear of a "King of Nimna", and if that were the case, well, what did they think about all of this? Still, Arakai appears to have declined, feigning illness, and we aren't given much on the envoy who actually went. Later on, Arakai will be taking a greater hand in matters across the straits, so that may have also been part of how he wound up connected with this story—and why he is also quite visibly disconnected from the decision to give up these territories. The fourth person of interest in this little drama is the Imperial Prince Ohine. He's the eldest son of Wohodo, born to Menoko, the daughter of Kusaka, of the Owari no Muraji. His full name appears to be Magari no Ohine, or possibly Ohoye, and he would later be known as Oshikuni-Oshitake-Kanahi no Mikoto, aka Ankan Tennou. He and his brother would actually succeed their father, Wohodo, before the ascension of their younger half-brother Amekunioshi Harani Hironiwa, aka Kimmei Tennou. More on that whole complicated situation in a later episode. Key for us, here is that Ohine appears to be the senior Imperial Prince and, despite the Nihon Shoki's insistence that his mother was not the Queen, he's effectively made Crown Prince in the following year, 513. That's the year he betrothed himself—without a middle man—to Princess Kasuga, daughter of the late 5th century sovereign known to us as Ninken Tennou. This was accomplished by spending the night together in classic aristocratic fashion. Later, he moved into the Spring Palace, and while he is never called the Crown Prince, the Spring Palace was typically reserved as the Crown Prince's estate. So he was definitely a person of some influence, and it is interesting that he apparently had no knowledge of any of this until it was a fait accompli. Now you might think this would put him and Kanamura at odds, perhaps even political rivals, but they appear to have smoothed things over in the end. Of course, some of this could be the Chroniclers' own attempts to explain away how Yamato could have given up claim to territory that was supposedly given to them by the kami. I suspect that plays a not insignificant role in everything that was going on, since it was such a big part of Japan's claims on the continent, whether factual or not. Now this whole episode is simply the start of things with Nimna and the continent. In 513, the following year, Bakeje sent over two generals, along with Oshiyama, to bring tribute to Yamato in the form of a scholar of the "five classics", Tan Yangni. Along with the presentation of an apparently ethnic Han scholar, they also brought news and a request. It seems that the land of Panphi had decided to annex the land of Imun, which Aston places northeast of Nimna—back in the reign of Mimaki Iribiko, Imun had requested assistance against Silla. It seems Baekje wanted Imun back under Nimna control--maybe. This is all a bit interesting, unless we consider that perhaps Oshiyama was working for Nimna—possibly even a Nimna official—and it may have been his request, rather than anything from the Baekje court. Regardless, this goes to show the kind of disorder in parts of the southern peninsula where there wasn't a clear power or state. The Kara, or Gaya, confederacy was just reaching the status of what we might term a Kingdom, but there were still a lot of independent districts where local elites held much more sway than any nominal overlords. In that situation, much as in the later Sengoku Period in Japan, it's natural that there would be fighting and different groups attempting to annex territory and strengthen themselves. The answer to this, in the Chronicles, was to gather up representatives from Baekje, Silla, Ara, and Panphi, and hold a conference of sorts. The Nihon Shoki paints this as all of them coming to the Yamato court to listen, but I wonder if it wasn't something more like a meeting between equals. If so, it is interesting that both Ara and Panphi are included with Baekje and Silla, perhaps indicating the state of things at the time. The decision from this conference was that the lands of Tesa—or Taisya—and Imun were to be given, instead, to Baekje. Note that they aren't given to Nimna, as one might assume, and Nimna isn't even mentioned—perhaps because they are the stand-in, here for Yamato, but that seems odd. Also, I'm not entirely sure where Tesa is, but the characters for it are "belt" and "sand" and it is later said to be an estuary, so that may be a hint. It is interesting that it is coming up in this context. These conferences are intriguing. It is certainly possible, with everything going on, that it was not uncommon for multiple representatives to come together to hash things out, especially if the various states are not quite as powerful as they would like to portray themselves as being. It might also have ensured witnesses to any treaty or decision—third party arbiters, in case anyone went back on what they said, later. Or it could have just been something that Chroniclers inserted to make Yamato sound even more important. We've mentioned that the texts are somewhat problematic, right? Anyway, while this was going on, Panphi tried to slip around behind and offer presents—aka a bribe—to Yamato to see if they would rule in their favor and ensure that Imun was confirmed to them, but Yamato refused. Panphi left, not exactly happy with the decision, and the following year, 514, they built castles—or at least defensive earthworks—at several locations, including the estuary of Tesa. They also built beacon towers to warn them of any possible coastal invasion—probably concerned about the Wa, who I'm sure were still well known for taking shiploads of warriors and quickly striking up river. Since many of these lands appear to have been built around various river basins, this gave the Wa access to a…

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Cross-Strait Relations: Part I Nov 16, 2022

Show notes

As we start to look at the events documented in the reign of Wohodo, aka Keitai Tenno, we are going to be looking at a lot of records dealing with the southern end of the Korean peninsula through Tsukushi, or Kyushu. This first part will look mostly at what we know about these areas from the linguistic and archaeological angles. Specifically, we are trying to break down the notion that there was necessarily a clear distinction between the "peninsula" and the "archipelago". Gina Barnes often refers to all of this as pen/insular, though that rarely is as clear when spoken. The importance of this distinction is seen perhaps no more clearly than in the land of Nimna--aka Mimana in Japanese and Imna in modern Korean. This was likelye an independent polity, and not simply an early colony of Yamato. On the flip side, there is plenty of reason to believe that there were ethnic Wa people--even whole communiteis or polities--on the Korean peninsula. For more, check out https://www.sengokudaimyo.com/episode-76 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 76: Cross-strait Relations, Part I. Before I get too much into it, some news: we are expanding to YouTube. I'm honestly not sure how this will work, but we are converting some of our audio into playable videos—not that the visuals are that exciting but it at least gets it out there in another format. More information towards the end of the episode. Now, as a reminder, we are still in the start of the 6th century. Last episode we saw the elevation of Wohodo, aka Keitai Tennou, around the year 507. These next two episodes we are going to look at what was going on—or at least what was recorded as going on—during the reign of Wohodo, aka Keitai Tennou. Much of what we see in the Chronicles seems to really be more about the story of what was happening on the continent. In particular, we are seeing a lot of pushback against Wa and the Wa-aligned states on the peninsula. Understandably, these states are all mentioned in the Chronicles as though they are directly controlled by Japan, or Yamato, but this is definitely an anachronistic 8th century view. A lot of what we have appears to be from the Baekje Chronicles that the compilers of the Nihon Shoki were drawing from, but there is definitely a pro-Yamato spin to everything, so keep that in mind. Also, this episode will likely be short, but that's partly because some of this stuff is dense, and I don't want to throw too much at you at once. Feel free to hit me up with any questions you might have and check out our podcast website for more information in an attempt to try to keep all of this straight. Last episode, we discussed Wohodo's background and how he apparently came to power to head up the third dynasty of sovereigns. During all of that, we noted how the Chronicles connect him with figures from the past, including Homuda Wake and Ikume Iribiko. Homuda Wake, aka Oujin Tennou, was famously considered to have been still in his mother's womb when she supposedly went to war and brought the countries of the Korean peninsula to heel. Okinaga Tarashi Hime, aka Jinguu Tennou, was long credited with setting up the country of Mimana, aka Imna or Nimna, as a Wa state, an extension of Yamato's power. However, it is much more likely that it was an existing state—possibly of Wa or at least a Japonic speaking people—and its existence is independently confirmed in numerous other records, though they don't necessarily corroborate Yamato's claim to it. In this first episode, we are going to take a look at what was happening across the straits, between the southern tip of the Korean peninsula and the island of Kyushu, for the most part. This is a fraught area of discussion. Nationalist histories from both Japan and Korea have generally come to an uneasy truce that puts Korea and Korean culture and people on the peninsula and Japan and Japanese people on the archipelago. This all goes back to at least World War II and the use of Jingu and the Mimana Nihonfu, or the Japanese Government of Nimna, which was used as a justification for Japan's invasion of the Korean peninsula. Since then, scholars have generally agreed that there was no Japanese Government overseeing territory on the Korean peninsula. For one thing, there was no "Nihon" for there to be "Nihon-fu"—it would have been either Wa or Yamato, either of which have much different connotations. Furthermore, even if there was a government office of some kind on the peninsula, it was likely more of a diplomatic outpost than any kind of administrative unit. On top of all of that, we don't' even know where it was, other than some vague ideas. If you go to Wikipedia, or do an Image Search for the Three Kingdoms period or just about anything we are going to discuss today, you often see well demarcated territories on the maps. Baekje will likely start somewhere up near Seoul and encompass the entire western half of the southern peninsula. Silla will likely be portrayed similarly, at least down to the Nakdong River Basin, where the map may show an area known as the Gaya Confederacy—sometimes even the Gaya Kingdom. Nimna—or Mimana—is often not shown at all, unless you are looking at Japanese maps of this time. And yet the truth is that this is all much more complex. Most of our history for this period is based on texts. But those texts have flaws. The texts from the Sinic dynasties out of the area of modern China are perhaps the most reliable, but they have scant information to tell us exactly where things are, and while some states and proto-states are listed with fairly consistent names and descriptions, this isn't universally true. Meanwhile the Baekje annals held by the Japanese court may have been a gold mine of information, but we only get the pieces that the Chroniclers chose to include, and from what we can tell it is clear that they often changed and quote-unquote "corrected" various details in order to present the story they wanted to tell, which was meant to aggrandize the royal line of Yamato. Finally, there are the Korean sources, such as the Samguk Sagi and Samguk Yusa, as well as the Tongkam. These are all invaluable sources, but they are no less biased than the Japanese Chronicles. They were compiled centuries later—even later than the Japanese Chronicles—and it seems they were drawing from different versions of events in many cases. The fragments of the Baekje Annals that we have in the Nihon Shoki occasionally lines up with the Samguk Sagi, but often it speaks to periods where the Samguk Sagi is otherwise silent. It doesn't help that all of these accounts are focused on the actions of the center, and often ignore the periphery. We don't have written Chronicles out of Gaya—or Kara—for instance, nor any other polities that may have existed on the peninsula at this time. It further obscures things that this was all written in a form of classical Sinitic—Chinese characters—that did not match up with the languages being used on either the peninsula or the islands. In addition, many of the Korean sources are often using names that were deliberately changed when Goryeo took over—obscuring many local details by replacing placenames, one of the things linguists often rely on, with their own, ensuring that even if there had been another linguistic group, its legacy was largely erased from the landscape, leaving us to puzzle through the scraps. That we are, today, reading through yet another lens also obscures what we see. In Aston's English translation of the Nihon Shoki he often makes the choice to render some words into the modern Korean equivalent of On'yomi, using the Korean "Chinese" pronunciation of the characters, especially where it is clear we need a phonetic spelling. Names are often assigned a nationality, as though the modern nations of Korea and Japan already existed as linguistic entities from back in this period. This idea, that there were Wa or Japonic states on the peninsula separate from Yamato, is worth examining a little more, and here's where we should touch once again on language. We talked somewhat about this back in Episode 9, where we discussed theories on the origins of the language of the Wa. Current scholarship seems to indicate that there was a Japonic—or proto-Japonic—speaking people on the Korean peninsula prior to the arrival of the Korean language. This may not have been the only language on the peninsula, and we certainly know of a variety of ethnicities that show up briefly in the record, but I'm not sure how we would even be able to tell what languages such people spoke, as Korean eventually moved along the peninsula, north to south, taking over and pushing out any indigenous languages. The state of Baekje may have had Japonic speakers, beyond those Wa who were recruited into the court and military structure, but it was likely largely speaking a language similar to Goguryeo, given their ties through purported Buyeo ancestry. Likewise there is some evidence in Silla for a Japonic substratum, though even they had largely adopted the language used by Goguryeo and Baekje by the 6th and 7th centuries. So even if the dominant language of the main states on the Korean peninsula was largely Korean and not Japonic, it certainly seems reasonable that there were some Japonic speaking holdouts on the peninsula, and perhaps they even identified with the larger Wa culture. I've seen less evidence for the lands of Nimna and the independent lands of the Kara confederacy, but that's hardly surprising given the paucity of sources for what was going on in that region. At the very least it seems reasonable that these lands, which were at one end of the standard trade routes between the peninsula and the archipelago, would have a special relationship with Yamato and the people of the Japanese islands. Kara, and the many lands there—Kara, South Kara, Ara, and more—are identified as independent and having their own sovereigns and rulers. Nimna, likewise, is noted as having a "king" at one point in the narrative, and continually shows up as separate, in ways that lands like Tsukushi, Kibi, and Izumo do not. This is mirrored in the way that the records of the Song also list Nimna and Kara as separate lands, as opposed to those on the archipelago. Key here to realize is that language is not culture is not ethnicity. Just because someone speaks a Japonic language that does not make them Japanese—take, for example, the old kingdom of Ryukyu, which was an independent entity for centuries. There is a false dichotomy presented by the idea that all of the peninsula must speak Korean and all of the archipelago must speak Japanese that concludes that if there are any Japonic speaking people on the mainland then they must, obviously, be a part of Yamato's growing confederacy. Similarly in the other direction. However, remember, that the immigration went fairly clearly from the peninsula to the archipelago, not vice versa. Evidence of this might exist with one more location that we'll introduce this episode, and that is the land of T'amna, known today as Jeju Island. T'amna is interesting—it was an independent state off the coast of the Korean Peninsula, and while it became a tributary state to the larger Korean court, the kingdom of T'amna retained local independence up through the start of the 15th century. So when we talk about the Three Kingdoms on the peninsula, even as the old states of Kara were absorbed into Silla and later Goryeo, T'amna retained an independent character up until the Joseon dynasty. Unfortunately, we don't seem to have much written down from T'amna itself, at least not in the early centuries. Later on, legends claim it was founded an impossibly long time ago, but it enters the historical record some time around the Han dynasty. The Samguk Sagi identifies early relations with Baekje by 476, and it seems solidly in the records from at least the 5th century onwards. Indeed, it pops into the Nihon Shoki fully formed. Of interest, currently, besides the fact that it shows up in the Nihon Shoki at this time, is that recent investigations into the linguistics of placenames and other features of the island suggest that Tam'na or Jeju had a language different from much of the Korean peninsula, and that language may very well have been a Japonic or proto-Japonic language, along with many other groups in the peninsula. Indeed, even the name "T'anma" is sometimes expressed, early on, as something more like Tanmura, or possibly Tanimura. While it eventually adopted the Korean language that spread from the north and was taking over the peninsula, it may have retained some of these underlying Japonic elements for some time, especially if we assume that the spread of Korean took place from the Buyeo people through Goguryeo and Baekje southward, with the southeast of the peninsula containing the last hold-outs. It would make sense that an isolated island would retain pre-Korean traits for much longer. Certainly the island had close ties to Baekje, and it seems to further support the idea that there were Japonic speaking people on the Korean peninsula. Furthermore, there is no evidence that I've seen that would make it part of the larger Yamato confederation. No doubt they interacted, as did all the various states of this period, but there is nobody I have seen making the claim that Yamato somehow claimed ownership of the island state of T'amna. Given all of this, a better approach might be to see culture from the peninsula to the archipelago as more like a color chart. While there are centers, such as Baekje's capital of Ungjin, Silla's capital at Gyeongju, and Yamato's capital in the Kinai region of Honshu, we don't have hard lines of control between any of them, and rather we have gradations of difference. Those differences aren't always easy to see on the periphery, where our sources tend to peter out. Another source that we need to consider, besides the textual and linguistic, is archaeological. I admit I am not prepared to get into a full-blown archaeological discussion of the Korean peninsula as compared with the Japanese, and this is an area where a lot of work is still being carried out. Still, I think it is useful to consider some broad strokes. First off, we can use archaeology to see some of the similarities and differences between different groups. We can see a difference in Silla pottery styles, even as they influenced the sueki ware in Japan that was likely the product of peninsular people in the Kawachi region. Armor from tombs in the archipelago has clear ties to armor found in the region of Kara, around the Nakdong River Basin. This all makes sense as Kara would have then been at one end of the easiest path across the straits, island hopping via Tsushima to Northern Kyushu and beyond. There are some areas, though, where the archaeological record causes us to pause. For example, In the late 5th to early 6th century we even see examples of keyhole shaped tombs in the Yongsan River Basin, though with some very peninsular affectations, suggesting that it wasn't just a whole-cloth importation of culture from the islands. As we've discussed, keyhole shaped tomb mounds on the archipelago are often interpreted as indications of the spread of Yamato influence, but in this case we have to wonder. In the southwest of the Korean peninsula, along the Yeongsan River, that area is usually described as part of Mahan and later Baekje, but archaeologically, there are some distinct features in Southern Jeolla—or Jeollanamdo—particularly in this region, around modern Gwangju. Unfortunately, very little in the Chronicles from either…

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The Mirror, Sword, and ...Seal? Nov 01, 2022

Show notes

We know about the regalia, the mirror, the sword, and the jewel, but has that always been the case? This episode we look at a new sovereign coming to the throne and recieving the mirror, the sword, and... a seal. So what's up with that? For more, check out https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-75 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 75: The Mirror, Sword, and …Seal? We are going to be talking about the person who followed Wakasazaki, aka Buretsu Tennou, known to us as Keitai Tennou—and no, that isn't the Cell Phone sovereign, different kanji, despite the fact that it keeps coming to my mind. We'll talk about what the Chronicles say about how he came to the throne, and what his lineage may have looked like. We'll look at some of what we know around this period, and what some others have had to say. As usual, it is a bit difficult to say for certain what happened, but perhaps we can know a little bit. Last episode we covered up to this point in the early 6th century, with the ongoing formation of the Yamato State. As we noted, although the Chronicles claim an unbroken lineage, there appear to have been at least two main dynasties, so far. The first was the Iribiko dynasty, starting with Mimaki Iribiko, who is credited as the founder of Yamato. Then there is the dynasty that tentatively begins with Okinaga Tarashi Hime and her son, Homtsu Wake—although possibly it actually starts with his son, Ohosazaki, for reasons we'll talk about later. That second dynasty, which included the clearly historic figure of Ohohatsuse Wakatake, aka Wakatakiru no Ohokimi, or Yuryaku Tennou, ended around 506 with the death of Ohatsuse Wakasazaki—an aptly named bookend for the last descendant of Ohosazaki no Mikoto—the young Sazaki as the last heir to the Great Sazaki. That dynasty seems plagued with succession disputes. Despite the order that the Chronicles attempt to apply to it, the remaining stories make many people suspect that after each sovereign's death, there was a period of confusion and chaos. Different groups in Yamato and surrounding areas would often pick up arms and vie for power and control. Influential forces would rally around potential candidates—those with some claim to the throne. The Chronicles often makes the claim that they were direct descendants of a previous sovereign—sometimes even siblings to the sovereign who had just passed. It was clearly not a matter of strict patrilineal succession, however, and there are even more than a few women who may have thrown their hat into the ring, with Ihitoyo being one of the most convincing candidates so far. During all of this, we see the rise of the various economic households. Most clearly are the Be—a continental innovation, where various individuals were gathered into a created household for economic purposes. Some of these are groups of similar professions. The Umakai-be, or the horsekeepers, and the Tamazukuri-Be, the Jewel-makers, are examples of these kinds of groups. Members were apparently scattered across various lands, but a single family remained nominally responsible for coordinating them. That family, sitting at the top of such a structure, would have had access to resources that that were produced by the other members, taking a bit off the top, as it were. Other such families were dedicated to simply producing economic wealth, typically in the form of some number of koku of rice, for the upkeep of some person or institution. For instance, the upkeep of the monumental tombs that we see, or some particular family member. We also see the service nobility—families who support the court and the sovereign and the business of the court, and through that maintain an elite status. Early on we see Takeuchi no Sukune and his descendants, who make up the Heguri, who are often the Ohomi, or Great Minister. Similarly there are the Mononobe, who appear to be a constructed -Be style family focusing on the arts of war—Mono-no-fu being another term for warriors—but who claim their own divine lineage through another Heavenly grandchild. Then there are the Ohotomo. They claim descent through Michi no Omi, or at least according to the Chronicles—Michi no Omi theoretically rode with the legendary Iware Biko, aka Jimmu Tennou, when he supposedly invaded Yamato. Later you see Ohotomo no Takemotsu serving in the time of Okinaga Tarashi Hime, aka Jinguu Tennou, and Ohotomo no Muruya, in the time of Wakatake no Ohokimi, aka Yuuryaku Tennou. This is probably the first reliable account of the Ohotomo family in the Chronicles as a powerful member of the court, but we will see their continued presence. In the period of the second dynasty, the service nobility play a large role in running the state and even in helping to select new sovereigns. In the story recounting Wakasazaki, or Buretsu Tennou, Matori, of the Heguri family, appears to be the one in charge at the start, but Ohotomo no Kanamura, presumably the son or descendant of Ohotomo no Muruya, helps Wakasazaki overthrow and destroy Heguri no Matori, gaining his place as Ohomuraji in the process. In some ways, it seems as though the important political story of Wakaszaki's reign at the turn of the 6th century wasn't about him at all, but about the competition between the Heguri and the Ohotomo. When Wakasazaki dies without an heir, it is these same service nobility who seem to be figured prominently in the next part of the story, the selection of the next sovereign. According to the Chronicles, it was Ohotomo no Kanamura who made the pitch that they would need someone to sit on the throne. The Nihon Shoki puts this two weeks after the death of Wakasazaki, Kanamura proposed a candidate—one Yamato Hiko, a fifth generation descendant of Tarashi Nakatsu Hiko, aka Chuai Tennou. This Yamato Hiko was living in Kuhada, in the land of Tanba—modern Hyogo Prefecture. The next part is a little, well, strange. Rather than sending a simple messenger to Yamato Hiko and asking him to come take the throne, they apparently sent what the Nihon Shoki refers to as an "honor guard"—so armed men. Now remember, up to this point, successions were a bloody affair, and when Yamato Hiko saw armed men coming for him, he took to the hills, not wanting to be purged just because he had a connection to an ancient sovereign. The men searched high and low but they could not find him. And so, a few days later, Kanamura and the other nobles started the search anew. They focused on another prince, Prince Wohodo. The Nihon Shoki claims he was the son of another Prince, named Hiko Nushi-bito, and his wife, Furuhime. Although Hiko Nushi-bito lived in Miwo, in the district of Takashima—probably around the area of modern Takashima o nthe shores of Lake Biwa—Wohodo's father passed away and his mother, Furuhime, took him back to her home of Takamuku. This was likely in the area of modern Fukui, in the old province of Echizen, the area of the ancient land of Koshi that was closest to the Kinai region. So that is where they sent the honor guard this time, to the land of Mikuni, to find Wohodo and ask him to take up the throne. When the troops showed up this time, Wohodo remained calm, and sat there with his personal retainers. Still, he wasn't exactly sure what was going on, and so he didn't exactly consent, immediately. However, someone had snuck him a message beforehand to tell him what was going on. That was Kawachi no Umakahi no Obito no Arako, who let him know that this was a force coming to kill him, but rather to escort him back to the court. When everything was finally over, Arako would be well rewarded for his service. Traveling with the honor guard, Wohodo made it down to the Kusuba palace, traditionally identified as being around Kuzuhaoka in Hirakata in modern Osaka. It was there that Ohotomo no Kanamura presented Wohodo with the Mirror, the sword, and the signet, or seal. And let me take a moment and mark this occasion. We've seen discussions of the mirror and the sword before this point, and this seems to indicate the three items of imperial regalia of Japan: The Mirror, the Sword, and the Jewel. And this is the first time we've seen these used as part of the ascension ceremony, at least since they were first brought down to earth in the legend of the Heavenly Grandchild, Ninigi no Mikoto. As you may recall, legends in the Chronicles claim that the Mirror and the Jewel were both hung on the Sakaki tree outside of the Heavenly Rock Cave as part of the ceremony to get Amaterasu to come out into the light. There is even mention of a blemish on the mirror from when it was accidentally knocked against the side of the cave. The sword implies the famous Kusanagi, or grass-cutter, found by Susanowo in the tail of Yamata no Orochi. Of course it could be that it was a different mirror and a different sword, but I think that any reader in the 8th century would have assumed these to be the same as those discussed earlier in the Chronicles. These were described back in episodes 15 and 16, as well as the descent of Ninigi no Mikoto in episode 22. More reliably, it does seem there was a tradition in the archipelago of maintaining and even displaying elite goods, such as mirrors, jewels, and swords, from tree-like structures to announce or welcome royalty. This is, however, the first time we've seen them brought out for an investiture—an enthronement ceremony—and you may have already caught on that there is one thing that is out of place. In the Nihon Shoki we are told that they used the mirror, the sword, and the… seal. Yeah, instead of the jewel—the Yasakani no magatama—we have a royal seal, instead. Is this a seal received from one of the continental courts, confirming the sovereign of Yamato as the "King of Wa"? Or is it referencing the jewel, the magatama, but using a term that, in the classical language of the time, would have been expected in a continental enthronement ceremony? Truth be told, the list of items included as required imperial regalia would vary over the years. Even by the 14th century the regalia was not necessarily firm, as pointed out by Thomas Conlan in his book, "From Sovereign to Symbol", though the sword, mirror, and jewel do appear to be at the heart of it. In fact, Kitabatake Chikafusa, writing his national history, "Jinnou Shoutouki," in the 14th century certainly identifies those three sacred objects as being at the heart of the institution of the sovereign and, by extension, the entire state. They are also mentioned in the Tale of Heike, where it is said that the Sacred Jewel and the Sword were taken up by Taira no Tokiko, widow of Kiyomori and grandmother to the infant Tennou, Antoku, as she leapt into the sea with him at the Battle of Dan-no-ura in the 12th century. Now, just because we see these three regalia, don't expect them to be coming up all the time from here on out. In fact, in 536 we will see only the sword and the mirror once more in the enthronement of the sovereign known as Senka Tennou, and then it seems to disappear from the narrative until the enthronement of the sovereign known as Jitou Tennou, wife of Temmu, in the 7th century, where again we get the sword, the mirror, and the seal. In fact, the sword and mirror seem to be more constant than the jewel. In the 10th century Engi Shiki, or Procedures of the Engi Era, only the Sword and the Mirror are mentioned as part of the enthronement ceremony, or Daijousai. Herman Ooms, in his work in the Temmu Dynasty, "Imperial Politics and Symbolics in Ancient Japan," suggests that the jewel was more of a private matter, passed within the house, perhaps even immediately upon a sovereign's passing, while the sword and mirror were for public ceremonies. Whatever the case, it seems that in the Nihon Shoki, at least, the royal seal is more important. That fits with the general oeuvre of the genre, seeing as how they are doing their best to mimic the style of the continental chronicles, as well as continental systems of governance. And so, Wohodo was raised up as sovereign, becoming the one who would later be called Keitai Tennou. But who was this Wohodo, really? What do we know? What qualities did he possess that made him the rightful heir to the throne? The Nihon Shoki's explanation is somewhat lacking on this front. It is simply mentions that he was a descendant of Homuda Wake, aka Oujin Tennou, in the 6th generation, through his paternal line—his father being the 5th—but it also makes him an 8th generation descendant of Ikume Iribiko, along his maternal line, through Furu Hime. Effectively, they claimed that he was descended from both of the previous dynasties, giving further support to the theory that they are, indeed, separate. The entry for Wohodo in the Kojiki isn't much more help. It does give his descendants—and a brief mention of some conflict in Kyushu. However, there is an odd entry earlier, around the death of Homuda Wake. That covers the lineage of a seemingly unimportant son of Homuda Wake, named Waka Nuke Futamata. It is an odd entry, and might seem to just be lineages of various family lines, as he has a son, Oho-iratsuko, aka Oho-hodo no Miko—that is "Oho-hodo" as opposed to our current "Wo-hodo", but if you see a connection, that does seem to be the intent. We are told he was an ancestor of, among others, the lords of Mikuni—Mikuni no Kimi. And of course, our current sovereign also has connections to Mikuni, according to the Nihon Shoki, though they say it is through his mother. So even the Kojiki is a bit cagey on this subject, and it isn't exactly a fully detailed lineage—there are plenty of gaps large enough that you could drive an ox-cart through. The Sendai Kuji Hongi doesn't seem to be much better. It largely repeats the lineage given in the Nihon Shoki, without further details. In fact, the most detailed lineage comes from somewhere else entirely—from a work called the Jouguuki, the biography of Prince Shotoku Taishi. This is thought to have been written around the 7th century, though unfortunately it only remains in fragments, such as in the Shaku Nihongi, which was written between 1274 and 1301 and contains fragments of many earlier works that are no longer extant as separate documents, including various fudoki, biographies, etc. According to that biography, Wakanuke Futamata was the son of Homutsu Wake and Ote Hime Mawaka, the daughter of Kawamata Nakatsu Hiko. Futamata married Momoshiko Mawaka Nakatsu Hime—in the Kojiki we are told this is Momoshiki Irobe, aka Oto Hime Mawaka Hime no Mikoto. They had a son, Oho-hodo, again just like the the Kojiki. Ohohodo then had a son, Oi, who had a son, Ushi, who married one Hifuri Hime no Mikoto. Prince Oi then becomes the connective tissue between Ohohodo in the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki account, who has Hiko Nushi-bito marrying Furuhime. Assuming that Hiko Nushi Bito might be something like Hiko no Ushi Bito, and Furu Hime is the same as Hifuri Hime, this appears to line things up. They, of course, were the parents of Wohodo. Hifuri Hime's lineage is also taken all the way back to Ikume Iribiko, as well, so that fits. Of course, that doesn't guarantee that any of this is true. After all, the compilers of the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki may have been drawing from the Jouguuki, or vice versa, and if any part of that lineage was constructed wholecloth then it brings everything into question. Kitabatake Chikafusa, in his writings, even suggested that Wohodo was descended from Ōsazaki's rival, Hayabusa Wake. Then again, he could just be misremembering, as it is said his work was written without access to the source material, while he was in exile. Nonetheless, an interesting takeaway. The various lineages of Wohodo do seem to acknowledge two dynasties…

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Yamato and State Formation Oct 16, 2022

Show notes

This episode we step back and take a look at the formation of the Yamato state on the Japanese archipelago. This covers the various reigns up to this point, but takes a look at the larger themes that brought us to this point. For more, check out https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-74 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is episode 74: Yamato and State Formation. We are finally back on the archipelago, after taking a few episodes to look a little more in depth at the continent, particularly at the culture that grew up in the Yellow and Yangzi rivers between the 3rd and late 6th centuries—the same period, generally, as the Mounded Tomb Culture in the Japanese archipelago and the Korean Peninsula. We'll probably be going back there, especially as the 6th century is going to see the arrival of several new things from the continent, including Buddhism and various aspects of material culture. This is going to be a shorter episode, and mostly recap, as we are going to re-ground ourselves in the archipelago and try to set the stage for the rest of the 6th century. To start with, let's look back what we know, so far. A lot of this is going to be things we've covered before, but sometimes it helps to step back and look at the larger picture of what is going on in the story, especially in terms of state formation. This topic – state formation, or in other words, exactly when "Japan" came to be - is something we've touched on, but it is an important point as we try to piece together the history of Japan. Of course, the Chronicles claim that Japan is and always was a state, more or less. They even use the term "Nihon" well before its attested existence, as well as the term "Sumera no Mikoto" for the rulers—something that basically claims the sovereigns were not mere rulers, or kings, but heavenly emperors, equal to those who sat upon the Tang dynasty throne, over on the continent. But states don't just appear out of nothing. Groups of people gather together, create systems by which to govern themselves, and then, at some point, come to see themselves as a nation. When and how this happens is often murky, however, and there is rarely a single moment when one can definitively say that a polity is a state, short of a written document declaring it so—and even that can't always be trusted. In fact, there may be multiple peaks where a polity starts to show the traits of statehood, but then there is the question of whether or not they are sustained beyond just a single strongman and his—or her—ideas and cult of personality. To that end, let's look at what we know of the Kofun period and what evidence we have, besides just what the Chronicles try to tell us. First off, in the 3rd century, we have reference in the chronicles of the Cao Wei dynasty to Himiko, the so-called "Queen of Wa", in Yamateh, the largest of several Wa states—for more on her, go back to Episode 13. From what we know of this period, "Wa" was more an indication of ethnicity than any kind of state, and ethnic Wa people were likely still resident with other ethnic groups on the Korean peninsula at that time. In addition, there are other groups on the archipelago that are mentioned later in the Chronicles, and we know that there were descendants of the Jomon populations still resident in parts of the islands. Whether or not the Kumaso, the Hayato, the Emishi, or Tsuchigumo refer to simply different Wa groups or to individuals of other ethnicities, speaking another language isn't necessarily clear, as the Chronicles seem more focused on their position vis-à-vis Yamato. Still, we see enough evidence that there are both common practices and diversity throughout the archipelago. While we have no direct evidence of Himiko in the islands—or nothing that the scholarly community as a whole can come together around—we do have physical evidence that this was a period of change, and there is a lot to point to Yamato, and specifically to the area at the base of Mt. Miwa. Not only do we have the remains of the palace found at Makimuku, and archaeological traces from around the archipelago, but it is also where we see the first of the monumental keyhole shaped tombs. To be clear, this wasn't the start of the mounded tomb culture. On the archipelago, that goes back to the funkyubo, mounds with multiple burials, which began back around the middle Yayoi period. And we also see mounded tombs on the peninsula as well. For the funkyubo, these were typically communal burials—even if only for a portion of the community. These mounds eventually became tombs for individuals, and the keyhole tombs, with their rounded, circular rear mounds and the trapezoidal front were a particular feature of the Yamato region, at least at first. The existence of these large tombs is generally taken as an indication that the community—and by extension the leader of that community—was able to organize considerable amounts of labor. Many have theorized that the organization of such labor arose from the need for communal agriculture, but once such labor exists it can be used in various ways, from building and expanding agricultural fields, but also for military and other state actions. The expansion of the keyhole shaped tomb mounds is seen as an expansion of the influence of what Gina Barnes refers to as the Miwa Polity, our early Yamato community. Here a lot of people struggle to refer to it as a state. Sure, they can organize labor and make things happen, but what really is a "state"? Typically it consists of government, defined territory, a set of belonging by the people in it, laws, that sort of thing—you know, the sorts of things that don't show up in the archaeological record all that well. Exact definitions of when something becomes a "state" can vary from person to person, depending on whom you talk to, but it is something other than simply a familial or clan structure. The people in the state are connected by something more than kinship. Max Weber described the state as a body that monopolized the use of legitimate physical violence in a given geographic territory. In other words, the state can arrest people, incarcerate them, and even put them to death, and it is generally considered "legitimate". Meanwhile if one person were to try to do that to another—or even one group, or gang—then that is typically considered illegitimate. You can't just go and hit your neighbor, no matter how many "hit-me" pheromones they might be putting off. Unless, of course, you can claim to be part of the state and you have a good reason, like they looked at you funny. Many have built on Max Weber's theories, and there is more nuance than just the person with the biggest club, though many still fall back on his definition as the baseline. The general theory in the archipelago at the time we are looking at it is that we are still working on a more tribal basis, with groups associated through bonds of real or fictional kinship. Earlier scholars linked these bonds with the "uji" structure of groups like the Mononobe and the Ohotomo, but more recently this appears to be a late development. Early authority may have stemmed from spiritual authority, emphasizing the Yamato sovereign's connection to the deity of Mt. Miwa, though it was also likely based on their position in a complex trade network that ran from the continent, through the peninsula, and on to the archipelago. The development of trade networks are one of the theorized mechanisms for how societies get more complex. Here many people point to the mirrors that Himiko has said to have received, and there have been efforts to connect mirrors found at various tombs around the archipelago with common batches that likely came over from the continent at the same time. In effect, the Miwa polity was setting itself up as an authority on not only spiritual matters, but in what made someone "elite". Still, evidence of influence is not the same as evidence of control. Just because mirrors and tombs show up in different areas does not meant that Yamato had direct control over that region like some kind of vassal state. Later on it may have actually been the case that there were regulations on different types of tombs for different individuals, but early on it may have been simply related to how much labor a single group could organize. Early on, many kofun appear to be carved out of the landscape, from existing ridges and hills. This would certainly have cut down on labor costs. Effectively these early tombs, impressive as they are, are little more than a platform, with a standard burial dug into the round back half of the mound, and decorated with a variety of haniwa—circular, terracotta decorations. As we previously mentioned, these haniwa were probably originally pillars for other kinds of vessels, possibly for offerings of some kind, but they morphed into various shapes. From the fourth century we have figures of birds, houses, and various weapons. Then there are the various goods found inside different kofun. While those tombs designated as belonging to ancestors of the current Japanese imperial house have been largely been off-limits to full-on, intrusive excavations, there are others that have been made available, or tombs that have been opened in previous centuries, either officially or otherwise, and the grave goods deposited with individuals have also given us some idea of what life was like. Early on we see bronze mirrors and elite items, as well as beads and jewelry, sometimes from quite far away, indicating extensive trade routes. And in the third to fourth century we also find armor and weapons. Trading—or raiding—for elite goods was likely an important part of the culture, and possibly something that helped encourage groups to work together, particularly when it came to raids on the Korean peninsula. Based on stories in the islands and on the continent, the kinds of attacks that the Wa are said to have launched appear to have required a number of groups to band together. Ishimoda Sho suggested that these attacks were one reason that different groups worked together, and lists it as one of the causes for eventual state formation. In the latter part of the 4th century, things were changing. In the islands we see the arrival of horse equipment showing up in the tombs, and the tombs themselves change. They grow large—the largest that the archipelago will see. This era is associated with Homuda Wake and Ohosazaki no Mikoto, as well as the massive Daisen Kofun—which we generally covered in episodes 40 to 52. From Homuda Wake onward is generally considered the second dynasty, sometimes referred to as the Kawachi court, given that many of them are said to have ruled from Naniwa and their monumental tombs are in the land of Kawachi. The changes during this era have led people like Egami Namio to postulate that there must have been some kind of new rulers that made their way to the Kinki region from Kyushu, or possibly all the way from the peninsula. Proponents of the Horse-rider theory pointed to the new assemblages in the tombs and the connections to Baekje and suggested that a new warrior culture had come in and defeated the existing rulers, setting up their own, paramount state. Stories of conquest from Kyushu certainly are not uncommon. After all, that is the story given for Iware Biko himself, aka Jimmu Tenno, as well as Homuda Wake—or perhaps more appropriately his mother, Okinaga Tarashi-hime. Either way, it does seem that there was a new dynasty in place, and they seem to have been at the height of their power under Ohohatsuse Wakatakeru, aka Yuuryaku Tenno. This dynasty is better attested to than the previous, with actual names on swords and other such things. We also see various changes in the archaeological record, some of which we've mentioned in terms of the placement of the tombs and the horse-riding gear, but there is also an increased presence of people and items from the continent in general. Note that I'm not hawking the horse-rider theory, here. While certainly horses changed the archipelago, that doesn't mean that some Buyeo prince came galloping through on a campaign of conquest. It is just as likely that this was all part of the archipelago's increased contacts with the peninsula. In addition, the build-up is gradual, and so even though we talk about things like a new dynasty and changes in the kofun, this didn't happen overnight. The rate of change that we do see is consistent with a society that is simply more connected with their neighbors, and who were taking on those things—particularly technologies—that were the most beneficial to them. Some of those technologies were not necessarily physical, which makes them hard to verify or track down—at least until the history gets a little more reliable. For example, some of these are religious ideas; Gina Barnes has pointed to the cult of the Queen Mother of the West, popular on the continent during the time of the Cao Wei and Queen Himiko, as one example. Most of the physical evidence for this belief coming into the archipelago is in the form of those bronze mirrors I've already mentioned, that were imported, likely in large batches as part of the diplomatic missions sent by Himiko or someone from the islands. Many of these mirrors contain depictions of the Queen Mother of the West and her counterpart, the King Father of the East. Furthermore, some similarities can be drawn with later Japanese beliefs and religious ideas, but that still isn't solid evidence. We likewise have other evidence of connections in various stories and legends with the Korean peninsula—Susanowo, comes to mind, as do stories of Ame no Hiboko, whom we discussed in episode 16 and episode 30, respectively. Some of these contain details that may date them, such as the descriptions of the underworld that liken it to later kofun styles, with their horizontal entrances rather than vertical shaft burials. It isn't all just stories, however. New techniques for governing large amounts of people also were likely imported into the archipelago, probably along with the ethnic Han scribes that were coming over from places like Baekje. Once again, new tools of statecraft don't necessarily show up clearly in the archaeological record, but we have some evidence for their use. For example, we can see the Wa playing on the world—or at least regional—stage during the Liu Song dynasty. At least five rulers sent missions to the Liu Song court. Previous missions had gone to the Cao Wei and Jin courts from Himiko and Toyo, but most of the concerns seem to have been localized to the archipelago and focused on the goods that were being brought over as part of the missions. However, the missions during the Liu Song seemed more focused on the claims of the Wa to the Korean peninsula in general. Regardless of how realistic such claims may or may not have been, they show a concern, at least, with the type of political structures created in the Yellow River region, and which Han scribes and officials spread to outlying areas along with Sinitic written culture. In fact, it is highly likely that there were descendants of Han bureaucrats who, themselves, were assisting these emerging polities in the finer points of statecraft as they also brought in other ideas from the Sinitic corpus of knowledge. Furthermore, trouble on the Korean peninsula was pushing refugees to the islands, who would likely have further supported these cultural changes. Written culture would not only have opened up the archipelago to ideas about governance, but it also would have helped provide methods to better control large areas of land. While local magnates would still be required, writte…

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Southern and Northern Dynasties Oct 01, 2022

Show notes

Our last look at the continent for a while as we look at what was happening over there, at least in a large sense. We'll get into the story of Wang Dao and his live-in hermit, Guo Wen, and talk about hermits, gardens, and the general chaos that was this period. You can also check out more at https://www.sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-73 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is episode 73: The Southern and Northern Dynasties Thanks for coming back. We only have a little more time that we are going to spend on the continent before we get back to the archipelago, so please bear with me and we'll soon get back to Japan and the rise of the imperial family with the latest dynasty, in the 6th century. This episode, we are going to look at capital cities, gardens, hermits, and finish up with a very brief account of the political changes in the South and in the North. Like the past couple of episodes, this is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a comprehensive history of this period—I'm mainly just hoping to get enough of an outline that we can refer to it as we head back to our main topics. I'd like to say that I'm going to make this period make more sense, but honestly, it is extremely chaotic, so that is not likely. But we will try to hit the major highlights. Given all of that, why are we even talking about it? Well, as we've seen in the Chronicles, there is plenty of contact with the continent at this time, and understanding some of the things that go on here might help us later on as we see things coming to the archipelago. There is also a tendency, in my opinion, to take a look at the continent—and especially the area of modern China—and make assumptions that the Middle Kingdom is the pinnacle of civilization in the Asia at the time. Certainly, at this point, groups around the Yellow River and Yangzi region are utilizing complex instruments of statecraft that far outstrip what we currently see in the archipelago—even on the Korean peninsula. But until the 6th and really the 7th centuries this area is in flux. While dynasties continued to make grandiose claims, which Yamato rulers would piggyback off of—like the Five Kings of Wa and their request for titles from the Liu Song court—their control was tenuous, and fraught. In addition, when Japan does start to adopt more continental culture, it may be helpful to understand just where the roots of that culture came from, even as it sees a particularly insular twist. Finally, this will give us context as we start to see the archipelago ingest other things from outside, particularly as we examine the influx of Buddhism, which arrives in about the 6th century, and other connections to the larger trading routes, generally known as the Silk Road. So, last episode we covered up through the fall of the Han dynasty in the 3rd century and the rise of the three Kingdoms of Shu Han, near modern Chengdu; Cao Wei, up around the Yellow River, and Eastern Wu along the central and lower reaches of the Yangzi. The Cao Wei eventually changed to the Jin dynasty, started with the Sima family, who replaced the Cao family of Cao Wei and then went on to conquer most of the Yangzi as well as the Yellow River region. However, their northern capital at Luoyang was sacked in 317 by a state calling itself the Han. Founded by Liu Yan, this so-called "Han" state claimed the name of the previously highly successful imperial dynasty, despite the fact that they were actually ethnic Xiongnu, one of the main nomadic people who challenged Han hegemony in the north. We'll hear more about Liu Yan and his Han dynasty later. For now I'll just note an interesting tidbit about the Xiongnu—or perhaps something more like the Hong-na or even the Huna, based on the pronunciation of the time. You see, they were a major nomadic empire across the Eurasian steppes from at least the 3rd century BCE, and they appear to be connected to—if not the same group—as the Huns who traveled west in the 5th century to the Volga and eventually invading the Roman Empire. That's right, the same group that was giving the Han dynasty and its successor states so many problems may have been the ancestors to the people that eventually went on to threaten Rome and its allies. With the destruction of Luoyang in 317, the Sima emperors moved the court down to the city of Jiankang on the Yangzi river. With them came much of the ethnic Han northern aristocracy—those who did not or could not stay and find a place in the new Hongna, or Xiongnu, Han kingdom. All told there were probably more than a million people who fled south with the destruction of Luoyang. Now as we've seen throughout history humans have always been accommodating when a large in flux of newcomers shows up and suddenly puts down roots, right? Well, maybe not quite so much. There is plenty of evidence of tension between the northern and southern families, but the newly displaced Northern court found ways to woo the Southerners over—pun intended, as all puns should be—and some of the Northern families even intermarried with the Southerners. The Southern Elites—those who had established themselves in the area of Wu for generations—mostly had their country estates southeast of the capital city, Jiankang, around Lake Tai, near the site of the capital of the old state of Wu, around Suzhou. The northern emigres, on the other hand, settled east of the city, in an area known as Guiji, since the land around Lake Tai had largely been taken generations back. These villas and country estates were often expansive affairs, with various orchards, animals, etc. This can be attributed, in part, to the fact that the landscape of the south, as we've already discussed, was a little different than that of the north. For one thing the city, Jiangkang, was not a walled city, like those in the north—at least not at this time. As I mentioned some time back, the city didn't initially have walls—or, well, not the giant city walls common elsewhere as a necessary security requirement. There were walls around the segregated palace area, a common feature of most capital cities, but the city otherwise relied on the river and surrounding mountains as their main defenses. And so the city, unlike most up to that point, had a natural flow from an urban to rural environment. And this is a pretty big change from cities in the north. While we have limited information on most of these cities—after all, they were built up time and again, usually destroying traces of what came before—we have some idea of their evolution. Early on, the capital was the place where the elite sovereigns conducted their rites—it was basically the site of the sovereign's ancestral temple. Later, it was distinguished as the site of the royal palace, with walls and towers. In the Han dynasty, it became a ritual center conforming—or at least attempting to conform—to a Confucian ideal as laid out in the Zhou-li, the Rites of Zhou, the classic that Confucius lauded and which is said to have been penned by the Duke of Zhou himself, though many things attributed to it may have been later innovations. According to the Zhou-li, the ideal capital city was a square or rectangle, with a walled palace in the center, and three gates on each side. Nine roads would run east to west, and nine roads would run north to south, creating a classic grid pattern. There were other ritual requirements, but this basic pattern was held up as the ideal for an imperial city. More often then not, however, capital cities merely aspired to these dimensions. The palace compound—a walled "inner city" itself, where the sovereign and the courts conducted their business—was typically set not in the center, but in the northern districts, as the throne was expected to face southward. This also had the side effect that maps—at least those where directionality was important—typically placed south at the top, rather than the bottom, as it was assumed that the ruler would view them from a southward facing position. These cities were places for the business of government and for housing the people who made that government run, and were decidedly urban in their characteristics. Rural areas and farmland only existed outside, beyond the walls of the city. In some ways this ideal city plan also matches up with the characteristics of communities along the Yellow River floodplain. While low, flat land made for good farming, villages and communities would often cluster together on higher ground to avoid the inevitable floods that would eventually come when the Yellow River broke through the banks containing it, creating a distinction between the rural fields and living spaces. As violent clashes broke out in the north, many people would seek shelter in walled communities—cities or fortresses—to defend themselves from the raids. And so imagine what it must have been like for the northerners who made their way down to the new capital of Jiankang. Along the Yangzi, farmers were much more likely to live in amongst their fields, not huddled together, and even the city transitioned smoothly from urban to rural in a natural flow. It is little wonder that there was a greater emphasis on the natural environment in the south. Those serving in government offices would have had property in the city. After all, nobody wants a longer commute than necessary. But the Great Families would also have their rural estates, and so people would go back and forth between the rural and urban environment. This led to people incorporating the rural into their own lives. Descriptions of Jiankang suggest that there was a lot more nature in the city than in the northern capitals, often in the form of gardens. There was a preserve for the sovereign and his chosen guests, like a private Central Park, but elites also cultivated their own gardens, sometimes stealing the view beyond the urban environment and incorporating the far mountains. These gardens were carefully crafted and designed, meant to provide myriad views. In the archipelago, we see a similar incorporation by the Japanese aristocracy of gardens into their estates. The Shinden-zukuri style often incorporated a lake and a pond, complete with a fishing pavilion, and "stolen views", where features beyond the owner's own property were incorporated as part of the overall experience. In addition, there were the mountains, right there. Han culture had long attributed to the mountains spiritual significance. They were places of great power, and the idea of immortals or others going off to live in the mountains was already a trope in Han society. With the renewed interest in hermitism, which we talked about last episode, it seems that some people took that quite literally. One example is Guo Wen, who lived in the early 4th century. Guo Wen is really the archtype of the southern mountain hermit. It is said that he went up into the hills and wore clothing made only from animals that had died of natural causes, and he ate only things he found or grew himself. The stories even claim that he had tamed a tiger! Guo Wen's style of hermiting was certainly the extreme end of the scale. It was the Survivorman version, and hard core. Most people were content with more of a Bear Grylls or perhaps even just a David Attenborough approach. A century after Guo Wen, during end of the Eastern Jin and the early Liu Song dynasty, a man named Xie Lingyun, known as the father of poetry on mountain scenery, broke down the different ways people chose to "Dwell in nature", coming up with four different categories. First off there was what he called "cliff-resting", where you went out, hard core, Guo Wen style, and lived off the land, using caves and whatever shelter you could find. It puts me in mind of the later mountain ascetics in Japan, like the yamabushi, although I'm not sure even they went to such lengths. Then there was "dwelling in the mountains", which is what Lingyun himself did. He built himself a house, and not exactly a hut either—it was a full on villa with a garden, orchards, and groves of bamboo. He even had workers landscape the surrounding hillsides to give him a more picturesque view. If that was still a bit much for you, then there was the idea of Hills and Gardens—a country villa, like those around lake Tai and in the Guiji region. Large estates with carefully managed so-called natural surroundings meant to impress and to be a place where the well-off literati could "retire" from government service, but not necessarily from society at large. These were places where powerful families could host scholars, poets, artists, and others, and through their connections and their relatives still influence the workings of the imperial court. Finally there was living "Beside the City Wall"—basically an urban or suburban location, usually referring to gardens that individuals would build within their urban properties. Thus even government officials could spend their time off in a constructed natural setting. One such garden was constructed by one Wang Dao. He was a powerful man in the Sima court of the Eastern Jin dynasty, and one of the forces behind the relocation to Jiankang. He was the one who helped overcome the Southern families' initial objections, plying them with gifts in terms of court honors and appointments, and he maintained a powerful position in the court. In fact, the Sima emperor by this point was, himself, largely a puppet figure, and it was powerful court nobles like Wang Dao who were, in fact, the true power behind the dynasty. Wang Dao's political position meant that he largely would have resided in the capital city, in the city of Jiankang. Whereas many of the elites could retire to their country villas and estates, Wang Dao decided that he would simply build his country villa in the capital, thus cutting his commute drastically. Given his political capital, he apparently had an ability to build quite the garden, one that would start a trend. In so doing, he knew just what his garden needed if he really wanted to impress. It wasn't enough to replicate the orchards and bamboo groves. The rocks of the mountains and the gentle streams and water. No, he needed his own hermit. And not just any hermit would do—you couldn't expect to just hire someone off the street to come and live in your garden, as the English often did for their garden follies in the 18th and 19th centuries. No, Wang Dao needed a real hermit. Someone with experience. And fortunately for him, there was a rather famous one right there. You see, despite warnings by Confucius, who advised against the idea of retiring from life to go live in the mountains, lest you were forgotten by society, the eccentric hermit Guo Wen was apparently something of a celebrity. Word of his extreme hermitism reached Jiankang, and while some of it—such as taming a tiger—was probably a bit of hyperbole, he was exactly the kind of hermit that Wang Dao was looking for. And so Wang Dao enticed Guo Wen to come down from the mountains and to live in his garden, where he could partake of the natural fruits and all that was available there. Wang Dao even attempted to replicate some of Guo Wen's own mountain habitat, to make him feel at home. And this arrangement seems to have worked for a while. Guo Wen continued to do his thing, but now within the confines of Wang Dao's garden, and Wang Dao now had an actual, been-there-done-that hermit that he could show off to his guests during gatherings at his house. However, it wasn't too long before Guo Wen tired of the garden. No doubt it was small, and for all that it had what he might need to live, it was still an urban garden and nowhere near as expansive as the mountains themselves. Guo Wen requested permission…

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The Three Kingdoms Period Sep 16, 2022

Show notes

Continuing with our continental history catch-up, we discuss the Three Kingdoms period and the eventual rise--and fall--of the Jin dynasty. We look at the origins of the nine rank system, as well as cultural phenomena like the Seven Worthies of the Bambboo Grove. For more, see https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-72 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is episode 72: The Three Kingdoms Period Greetings, and welcome back. We are currently still in a pause on the archipelago while we catch up with what has been happening on the continent. Specifically, right now, we are focused on the various dynasties that arose around the Yellow and Yangzi rivers. Last episode we covered the rise of the Qin and then the Han, who ruled for four centuries from the Yellow River region—first in Chang'an, modern Xi'an, and later from Luoyang. These traditional capitals would be used again and again over the centuries. This episode we'll cover turbulent era immediately following the fall of the Han, including the rise of the Three Kingdoms—Shu, Wei, and Wu—and eventual reunification and then dissolution under the Jin. This period sees a lot of changes happening, both in population movements and in cultural phenomena. Our focus is going to be on some of those things that would, in one form or another, eventually be transferred over to the archipelago. Things such as the system of government ranks as well as cultural phenomena, like the famed Seven Worthies of the Bamboo Grove. Our story starts towards the end of the Han dynasty—the Later Han, sometimes known as the Eastern Han, as the capital had moved to Luoyang, east of Chang'an. At this time, there was massive migration south to the jungles and forest of the Yangzi river region. While there had been ethnic Han emigres to the region in the past, it was nothing on the scale of the millions of people who would seek refuge there during the chaotic fall of the Han dynasty. What they did when they got there was partly dependent on just where they settled along the reaches of the Yangzi river. The majority headed to the lower reaches of the Yangzi,. This area must have been both similar to and radically different from the Yellow River Floodplain, where many had come from. The Yellow River floodplain was extremely flat, and the Yellow River was known to regularly overflow its banks, as it was constantly depositing sand and other detritus, which, in turn, raised the bed of the river itself. In fact, there are places today where the Yellow river towers some ten meters—about three stories—above the surrounding countryside due to the constant attempts to pen it in and prevent devastating flooding. When the Yellow River did flood, the flow of the river could shift drastically across the largely flat floodplain. In contrast, the Yangzi river was more easily tamed. While it still had problems with flooding, the mountainous and hilly terrain provide more natural containment for the river, and its headwaters in the rocky, mountain regions bring a lot less sediment downstream. How much? Well, one figure I found suggested that the Yangzi, which is Asia's largest river, has a flow rate of over 30 thousand cubic meters of water every second, and discharges about 480 million tons of sediment every year. Compare that with the Yellow River, which has a flow of only about 2500 cubic meters of water every second, but over a billion tons of sediment. For those trying to do the math in their heads, the Yellow River has a flow rate about ten times less than that of the Yangzi and yet it discharges over twice the amount of sediment every year. So, you can imagine that it was generally a less chaotic area for farming, and indeed, many of the peasants who settled in the lower reaches of the Yangzi became farmers, often working for elite families who had set themselves up in the south. This was the location of the ancient state of Wu, which had had ethnic Han inhabitants since at least the eastern Zhou dynasty, so at least the 3rd century BCE, and whose old capital was around modern Suzhou, on the shores of lake Tai, in the precincts of modern Shanghai, at the mouth of the Yangzi river. Now we've heard of the state of Wu before on this podcast: you may or may not recall that Wu was the state known in Japan as Kure, though where, exactly, that name comes from seems to be a bit of a mystery. Back in Episode 48 we talked about weavers coming to Japan from "Kure" during the reign of Homuda Wake, and then in episode 60 we see envoys from "Kure" coming over in 470, during the reign of Ohohatsuse Wakatake, aka Yuuryaku, though at that time it would have almost certainly referred to the Liu Song dynasty which was still centered on the lower reaches of the Yangzi.Here's where I should probably note that the name "Wu" itself is the modern reading of the character used, which in ancient Sinitic language was probably something more like "Nguo" or even "Ngwa". Even today, this area has its own Sinitic language, called "Wu Language" that is occasionally spoken there, though mostly as a "kitchen language" spoken at home, rather than an official language or dialect…and that leads us to some interesting additional connections between this area and the history of the Japanese language. We know the Japanese archipelago felt the reach of the continent since at least the Qin and Han dynasties - we have the famous seal of King Na of Wa, as well as the Han dynasty mirrors that came over and which the Japanese were keen to replicate – but how much else they took on of the cultural aspects is somewhat hard to say at this point. But looking at the language, one thing we can observe is how the various Japanese on'yomi readings of Sinitic kanji characters connect to pronunciations of different times and places on the continent, suggesting that different periods and locations of contact are reflected in the Japanese language itself. Many kanji have multiple on'yomi readings in different categories – one is the Kan-on, or "Han" reading, while another is the Go-on, or "Wu" reading, "Go" being a reading for the character Wu, likely pulled from the old pronunciation, "Nguo". (And so for instance the same character read as "Mei" could also be read "Myou" or "Ka" could be read as "Ge", or even "Jitsu" as "Nichi".) The Go-on is typically assumed to be the older reading, which likely came over in the 6th century or earlier, while the so-called "Han" reading probably reflected more the Tang dynasty and later. This doesn't necessarily mean that those Go-on readings came from Wu itself or the ancient Wu language, but more likely that they were simply older or regional readings that differed from the northern dialects in vogue in later centuries. And even though Mandarin and Cantonese didn't evolve into their current forms until later, there were distinct regional differences in language between the northern and southern areas as early as the 6th century, as Yan Zhitui noted in his writings. The south had a reputation as more culturally refined, though alternatively that could be seen as lazy and archaic, whereas the north had perhaps a coarser dialect, and was also seen as more hard-working and industrious, though one should note that Zhitui was a native of the north and therefore likely prejudiced in his views. Language differences aside, over time, of course, the people of the original state of Wu were largely absorbed or replaced by the Han people migrating south, especially with the uptick at the end of the Han dynasty. And as I mentioned before, many who settled in this region became farmers, working for elite families, many of whom had set up around Lake Tai, near the old capital. Eventually another city would come to take precedence, however, and that was the city of Jianye, known today as Nanjing, the Southern Capital, and we will see why in a little bit. Before that, though, let's talk about the rest of the Yangzi. While farmers were moving into the relatively flat and fertile areas in the southern reaches, those in the more mountainous regions often had a different experience. While there were certainly farms producing food, many of the communities in the middle reaches had more of a military focus, setting up various fortified communities, often taking advantage of the mountainous terrain. In the mountains, communities had to be relatively self-sufficient. Further upriver is the Min River basin, a relatively flat area, highly suitable for agriculture, but surrounded by mountains. This is the home of the modern city of Chengdu, in modern Sichuan. The relatively flat, fertile land meant that various states could arise here, and many different ones had indeed risen and fallen by this time. There had been a growing Han presence since at least the Qin dynasty, but interactions with others were awkward, requiring the traversal of difficult and mountainous terrain to get out of the river basin. The same things that would allow states to form in this region, often protected by the mountains from outside forces, would also be the things that kept them isolated at the same time, preventing them from expanding and conquering much beyond their own region. So these – the southern reaches, the central mountains, and the Min River or modern-day Sichuan basin – were the three areas of the Yangzi that people were moving to in the Han dynasty. And that migration only increased as the turbulence towards the end of the Han dynasty increased. After the Yellow Turban rebellion, things in the capital region remained uneasy. A regent attempted to bring in a frontier general, Dong Zhuo, to help check the power of the eunuchs, who had a stranglehold on the court, but before the general could arrive, the regent was assassinated. In retaliation, two officers of the newly created capital army seized Luoyang and massacred the eunuchs. This left a power vacuum, and when Dong Zhuo arrived, he captured the emperor, and took power as a military dictator. By this point, military rule was the order of the day, and even though there was still an emperor, the Han dynasty was as much a going concern as a Norwegian blue parrot. Dong Zhuo eventually spirited the boy emperor, Xian, to his home base in Chang'an, while his soldiers burned Luoyang to the ground. This triggered a whole slough of generals to set themselves up as warlords, and for some 30 years, the territories from the Yangzi river north found themselves in various conflicts. The north seems to have seen the lion's share of the fighting, as one of the generals who had opposed Dong Zhuo went on to put down his rivals and unify much of the Yellow River Basin and points north, including the Han commanderies on the Korean peninsula. His name was Cao Cao, and he unified the north under his rule by 207, and then turned his attention to the south. At first, things seemed to be going well for Cao Cao. His initial push into the south met with little resistance, and he even gained more men. However, Cao Cao's sizeable army required food, and it seems his supply lines were drawn out a considerable length, as there are reports of famine, and disease—possibly a result of the subtropical forests that were still considered untamed wilderness, not to mention the many areas of marshy wetlands that had yet to be drained and cultivated. For an army made up of largely northern soldiers, one can imagine how they fared in this humid and unfamiliar terrain. Additionally, fighting in the south was not the same as in the north. Battles in the south had to make use of the Yangzi's extensive river system, meaning that you were looking at a lot of effectively naval warfare. There are many incredible exploits that could be discussed here. About Cao Cao's inadvisable attempts to chain his boats together to provide a more stable platform for northerners who were not used to sleeping on the water like this, to a feigned defector, who instead of coming to Cao Cao's side sent a barrage of fire ships—that is ships that were deliberately set on fire and placed on a collision course with Cao Cao's fleet. Eventually, the fate of Cao Cao's incursion was sealed in the famous Battle of Red Cliffs—an event that has spawned poetry, literature, and not a few movies. There Cao Cao was opposed by rival southern warlords, and he suffered a decisive defeat. It stopped his advance, and provided space for the southern regions to develop. And so there developed an uneasy peace. The north was unified under Cao Cao and his successors, under what would become the Wei kingdom, while the south was split into two regions; Shu, in the west, under the command of Liu Bei, and Wu, in the east, under the command of Sun Quan. Eventually Cao Cao's son, Cao Bi, would set himself up as the emperor of Wei, finally doing away with the charade of the Han dynasty, and Liu Bei and Sun Quan would follow suit. This is the period known as the Three Kingdoms in Chinese history. It was a relatively brief period, all things considered—only about 60 years—but it was memorialized in various ways. First off is the Record of the Three Kingdoms, by Chen Shou, which is where we find the Wei Chronicles, which provides our first glimpse into the Japanese archipelago in the stories about the intriguing Queen Himiko. This was also part of the basis for the more fantastical 14th century novel, the "Romance of the Three Kingdoms", one of the most popular literary works in East Asia, inspiring numerous plays, spin-offs, and even movie and television series. Of course, that is a work of historical fiction, building off of the history, but also incorporating the fantastic and romantic stories that had sprung up around the various characters in those stories. The Three Kingdoms—perhaps "Three Countries" is more appropriate—were the three we've just discussed: Wei, Wu, and Shu, also known as Cao Wei, Shu Han, and the Eastern Wu to distinguish them from the many other states that had those same names throughout history. Of these, Liu Bei's Kingdom of Shu is perhaps the least interest to us, centered as it was on the area of modern Chengdu and the Min River basin. As noted above, the mountains provided him refuge, but also limited the Shu kingdom's ability to truly menace Wu or Wei. In contrast, Sun Quan's Wu held control of the lower reaches of the Yangzi, up into a portion of the middle reaches. Wu's capital was set up at Jianye, modern Nanjing, as we mentioned earlier. Built along a bend in the Yangzi river, it was naturally fortified with the river and mountains around it. In fact, despite being the capital of one of three warring states, the city was built without walls, relying on those natural fortifications. One consequence of this was that the southern capital was more connected with nature, rather than walled off from it - just one example of the different conditions in the south that would drive cultural innovations often separately from those in the north, cultural innovations that would over the next several centuries make their way as seeds to the archipelago: garden layouts, poetry, and more. One such innovation was evolving to the north, in the country known as Wei. As its founder, Cao Cao, pulled together his administration and conquered the surrounding regions, he was determined to correct some of the problems that he saw in the previous Han administration. For one thing, the influence of the Eunuchs at court was broken, but Cao Cao was not about to hand over power to the Great Families and Han dynasty loyalists who might try to restore the Emperor and Imperial power. Cao Cao, perhaps give…

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The Yellow River and the Birth of Han Culture Sep 01, 2022

Show notes

This episode we put a pause on Japan and we take a deeper look at what was happening outside of the archipelago. In particular we'll take a look up through about the 6th or 7th century, and the start of the Tang dynasty, which should prep us for what we will see in the Japanese records. I'll try not to go into the weeds too much, but, well, no promises. This episode we'll look at the rise and fall of the Qin and Han after the Warring States period, including the diaspora that followed. For more, check out https://www.sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-71 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan! My names is Joshua and this is Episode 71: The Yellow River and the Birth of Han Culture. Before we get started a quick shout out to Arnold for donating to support the show. If you would like to join him you can do so over at our Ko-Fi site, that's Ko-Fi.com/Sengokudaimyo, or find us on Patreon. So we've been working our way through the Kiki—the Japanese chronicles—and we've made it through to the very start of the 6th century. In that time we've seen the state of Yamato grow, though in all likelihood its direct influence likely remained contained in the area immediately around the Nara Basin and out to the area of modern Ohosaka. Which isn't to say that they weren't a leader in their confederation, or that their dealings were confined to that area any more than later daimyo would be confined merely to the area of their own domains. It is still a question as to just how much influence Yamato had, but clearly they were a trendsetter, and had connections with the other lands of the archipelago and the continent. And from the continent, the archipelago was receiving new technologies and new ideas. Envoys from Yamato were being sent, all the way to the court of the Liu Song, near modern day Nanjing, along the easternmost reaches of the Yangzi river. And they, as well as continental visitors and immigrants, were bringing back horses, writing, weaving, and more, including ideas of statecraft. Over the coming centuries we'll see more and more of this, as Yamato grows and becomes ever more connected with the mainland. And because of that, I want to once again take a detour away from our islands, and focus for a time on what was happening in the mainland at the beginning of the 6th century, as a lot of this is prelude to what we will see going forward in the archipelago. The governmental systems being used, refined, experimented with, and, some might say, corrupted, on the continent would become the model on which the future Japanese court would base their own system—with some twists of their own. And yet it's important to remember that the continent was not a monolith - it was home to various groups and ethnicities and cultures. However, just as the Roman empire had its impact on the various cultures of Europe, eastern Eurasia was heavily impacted by the culture that arose out of the Yellow River Basin. Speaking of the Yellow River basin, I'd like to start by painting a picture. When we started this whole project, we talked about the islands of Japan and their geography, which impacted the development of Japan and continues to be a factor today. Therefore I figure it is likewise useful to talk somewhat about the geography of the continent. If we start with the Korean peninsula, we see that it is similar to the archipelago—mountainous, with areas of flat land. In fact, like Japan, some 70% of the land is mountainous. This continues into modern China until you hit the Liao River basin in the west and the Amur River to the north. We know this as a home to Tungusic speaking people, as well as Mongols, and the Nivkh on the coast, but there is little enough in the written record, though there has been archaeological research in the area. This is likely where the people of Goguryeo came from, and Amur and West Liao DNA has been seen in the people on the archipelago, so we know there was contact. This may be an area to explore more. Certainly the area played a large role in more recent historical events. But for now, I want to turn south, to the main part of what is known today as China. That name, by the way, is something I've touched on before: "China" is something of an overloaded term, as is the concept of "Chinese". It can be used for just about anything within the bounds of the modern state of China, which includes much of the area from the Amur River in the north all the way down to modern Vietnam in the south and all the way west to modern Kyrgystan and Tajikistan. At the same time, there are clearly differences between the Uighur, Mongol, Tibetan, Han, and many other cultures, as China is a nation with many cultures and ethnicities living within its borders. So I'll try to be specific, and often speak in terms of ethnic Han people and Sinic culture, broadly referring to the ethnic group and cultural norms that grew up largely along the Yellow River, which is one of two main rivers that run through the area of China – the other being the Yangzi, to the south. Looking at a modern map, you can largely divide eastern China into roughly four regions. First, there are the northern region of Inner Mongolia and Manchuria. Second, south of this, there is the Yellow River. The Yellow River starts up in the mountains and flows through the Loess Plateau, the source of the sediment that gives the river its brownish-yellow color—and thus its name. It then passes through a mountainous region and then the lower regions of the Yellow River flow largely through wide, flat land, before the river empties out into the Yellow Sea – likewise named for the color of the sediment that the river disgorges into it. The Yellow Sea opens out past the Shandong peninsula and is bordered on the east by the Korean peninsula until it reaches the East China sea. This Yellow River area was the homeland of the Han ethnic group, and the origins of the Shang and Zhou dynasties—as well as many of the dynasties up to the Han. The third region, south of the Yellow River is the Yangzi River and its surroundings . Compared to the flatlands of the lower Yellow River, the Yangzi tends to be more hilly. In the east it is relatively flat, along its lower section, where it empties into the East China Sea around modern day Shanghai. The central region is more mountainous, and in the west is the Sichuan basin, a largely flat area surrounded by mountains, which proved both a help and a hindrance to people living there. Originally, the Yangzi was populated by numerous ethnic groups, who are often lumped together as the Bai Yue, or Hundred Yue. We will talk more about them, later. Last there is the far south, which is a largely mountainous region that extends to the South China Sea. This was largely considered foreign or frontier region through most of the time we will be talking about, with some outposts and commandries, like those in the Korean peninsula, but for our purposes, right now, we will largely leave them be. And so, let us go back to the Yellow River region. As I noted, the river brings down sediment from the Loess Plateau, and deposits it along the river bed. This was particularly true when the riverwould flood—due to either heavy rains or melting ice in the mountains near the river's source. These floods would inundate the flat lands of the lower Yellow River, and deposit that soil across the land. This made the land incredibly fertile, but the unpredictability of the floods was a constant danger. This, in turn, led to settlement patterns where people built communities on the occasional high ground in an attempt to avoid the floods. Early organization appears to have been built on the idea of taming the waters, and yet it was a constant battle. Dikes would be built and the sides of the river could be built up, but over time the sediment would deposit on the riverbed, raising the riverbed. Without constant dredging and building up of the riverbanks, the river would eventually flood. Sometimes this could change the location of the river—or at least its main branch—by over 400 km or more. In many ways, then, good government in and around the Yellow River basin was, indeed, tied to mitigating natural disasters—or at least flooding. A government that kept up work on the river and ensured that it was properly managed would reduce the damage caused by flooding, while a government that was negligent would eventually allow the precautions to collapse. This is a theme we see early on in Chinese documentation, and it prompted the German philosopher Karl Wittfogel to form a theory called the "hydraulic hypothesis" which says, basically, that people banding together to manage flooding and irrigation was what prompted the formation of complex states. The real explanation is more complex, but it's easy to see where this idea comes from. The Shang and then the Zhou were early, powerful states. Much as with Yamato, the question of just how powerful is still somewhat up in the air, but this does appear to have been the foundation of early Sinic thought, and in particular the Duke of Zhou was often credited with creating the various rites and rituals that were considered at the core of good statesmanship. In some ways, I'd say this was similar to what we see in Yamato, in that there were certain rituals that the sovereign was expected to perform that, along with administrative and military might, helped maintain the state. But the geography of the Yellow River Basin allowed for larger populations and, in some ways, allowed for greater control by the state, at least early on. From what we know about the Zhou, it appears to have been a feudal system, with a social hierarchy. The sovereign sat at the top, with courts of nobles—members of elite families. These families were given control of large territories themselves—they were basically the hegemons of their own states, with Zhou at head of the coalition. And that seems to be part of the Zhou's eventual downfall. While the nobility initially owed their place and lands to the ruling sovereign, over time they amassed their own, independent power. Combined with external threats, the Zhou weakened, and the situation quickly deteriorated. The various families became insular, and each state set against each other. Many of these states would have names that will become all too familiar in later eras—names such as the Song, the Jin, and even the Wu, read in the archipelago as "Kure". This turbulent time led to a certain diversity of thought and ideas. Confucuis, Laozi, Sunzi, and many other famous philosophers came from this period. This is the Warring States Period, from about the 5th to 3rd century BCE—and yes, it is the same name as the period in Japanese history, the Zhanguo Shidai, or Sengoku Jidai. This is no accident, but rather a deliberate call-back by Japanese of that era and later periods to connect their own turmoil with that of China's classical age. This era of conflict and division on the continent would eventually be brought to an end by forced unification under the state of Qin, the westernmost of the various kingdoms, situated around modern Xi'an, along the Wei River, which runs east to the Yellow as it heads out onto the plains of the lower reaches. It was the Qin who unified the warring states through military conquest and instituted a harsh regime. The ruler of Qin took the name of Emperor, or Huangdi, and is still remembered as Qin Shihuangdi, the First Qin Emperor. He instituted a state based on the legalist system that had brought Qin to power, and he did well for himself. After all, his is the tomb of the terracotta army in Xi'an, a tomb on par with that of Daisen kofun in Japan, in size, and even moreso considering everything else in the complex – which is still being actively mapped and excavated, although the main tomb remains undisturbed at this time. The terracotta warriors themselves are truly remarkable, each one with unique features and tremendous detail down to the hobnails in their boots. These statues were originally vividly painted, though the pigments rarely survive long after being exposed to the open air. They provide us an unmatched view of what the Qin army looked like, such that it is suspected that each statue—or at least their head—was likely a depiction of an actual soldier in the army. As I mentioned, the Qin state was organized around Legalist principles. Legalism insisted that all people follow exactly the rules and laws of the state. The theory was that if everyone played their role exactly, then the state would run smoothly. Ideally it eschewed favoritism and familial ties for a strict interpretation of the laws that applied to everyone, equally. It enforced this through draconian punishments. For example, there is a story that the emperor was out one day enjoying himself, and he fell asleep. He had with him two servants, one who was responsible for his cloak, and another who was responsible for his umbrella. As time dragged on, the servant responsible for his umbrella fell asleep as well, and so did not notice that the sun had shifted and the emperor was exposed. The other servant, thinking little of it, simply moved the umbrella so that the emperor remained in the shade. When the emperor woke up and found out what had happened, he had both men punished. The one for falling asleep and not doing his job, but the other for trying to do someone else's job instead of tending just to his own. As one might imagine, this was considered a mite harsh by many, and it tended to rub people the wrong way. Still, Qin Shi Huangdi maintained power over a unified nation for nine years, despite numerous assassination attempts. He was eventually undone not by assassins, but by his own quest for immortality—the same quest that had him send people out looking for the famed Island of the Immortals, which we discussed back in episode 10. He was apparently drinking elixirs made with mercury, which likely poisoned him. After his death in 210 BCE, court ministers tried to hide the news and eventually planned to have his son rule as a puppet sovereign. But this left the court weak, and fighting and rebellion once more broke out. This could easily have devolved back into the Warring States period, which would have made the Qin dynasty simply a blip in the record, if it weren't for a peasant-born commander named Liu Bang. Liu Bang was a local Qin official who was working as a penal officer. We are told that he was taking prisoners to go work on the tomb of Qin Shi Huangdi when some of them escaped. Under the Legalist penal codes of the time, allowing prisoners to escape was considered a dereliction of duty, and punishable by death, and the court was not known to be merciful. With no other options, Liu Bang decided to voluntarily free the rest of the prisoners—after all, it wasn't going to get any worse for him—who were so grateful that they joined him. Together they took up residence in an abandoned fort in Mangdang, where they set up to resist any who might be sent after them. But the death of Qin Shi Huangdi, and the subsequent rebellions that broke out the year after, provided an opening for the ambitious Liu Bang, who fought for the state of Chu, but eventually ended up taking power for himself. Thus Liu Bang, son of a commoner, became Emperor Gaozu of the Han dynasty. The Han dynasty maintained much of the political apparatus of the Qin dynasty, but changed it in subtle, yet significant ways that would keep it in power for the next four centuries—minus a brief interregnum by one Wang Mang. This is one of the reasons why, while the Qin dynasty is the root of the English word for "China", many Asian sources refer to Han—such as Hanzi, or Kanji in Japanese, for Sinitic writing—and it is generally used to r…

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End of an Era Aug 16, 2022

Show notes

This episode we discuss the reign of Ohatsuse Wakasazaki, aka Buretsu (or Muretsu) Tennō. Wakasazki is one of the least popular sovereigns with the Chroniclers, but why was that? Was he really as bad as everyone says? Tune in to find out. You can also check out more information over at https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-70 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. This is episode 70: The End of an Era. Content warning up front: This episode catalogues a lot of senseless and even psychopathic violence, against both men and women, including forced abortions and sexual assault. I will do my best to present the information respectfully, and we'll put most of it at the end of the episode, with a warning so anyone who wants can stop after we cover the more relevant part of the reign. Last episode we talked about Wohatsuse Wakasazaki, aka Buretsu Tennou, and how he came to the throne at an apparently extremely young age. Tradition says he was as young as 10 years old… but we'll talk about that. As I mentioned, this episode will be split into two parts. First, we will cover various events regarding Yamato that are recorded as having happened during the eight years of Wakasazaki's reign, most of them having to do with Yamato's relationship with the Korean peninsula and events happening over there. Then I'll cover the other stories—those outlining his apparent sociopathic tendencies. I'll be blunt: the Chronicles contain some very, very nasty stories about Wakasazaki, and indeed paint him as unredeemably evil. If Wakatake had numerous accounts which didn't show him in a good light, Wakasazaki is something else altogether. And we do have to ask the question of whether these are accurate stories, or whether there were other things going on that led the Chroniclers to paint such a scathing picture. One of the first questions I have, however, is the question of how old Wakasazaki was when he came to the throne, when he died, and what the situation was with the royal lineage at the time. As noted, tradition states he was 10 years old when he came to throne, and if he reigned for about 8 years, as the Nihon Shoki claims, then he would have been about 18 at the end of his reign. On the other hand, the Nihon Shoki at one point says that Wakasazaki was not actually 18 when he died, but instead that he was 57. Kitabatake Chikafusa likely pulled on this when he wrote in the Jinnou Shouki that Wakasazaki died at the age of 58. Chikafusa doesn't talk about any of the other acts that are said to have taken place, but instead focuses on connecting Wakasazaki's evil acts with the downfall of Ohosazaki's lineage—that's right, spoiler alert, Wakasazki would be the last sovereign claiming descent from Ohosazaki—which is why I mentioned last episode how interesting it is to me that they both use "Sazaki" in their names, rather like an overly convenient pair of bookends. We'll talk about this more at the end of the episode as we explore just why the Chroniclers didn't exactly stan Wakasazaki. So keep that in mind as we look at this reign and the scorn that is heaped upon it. One thing to consider as we read through the Nihon Shoki is that the Chroniclers operated under the assumption that all reigns were linear—that there was only ever one sovereign was on the throne at a time. According to Kishimoto's classification of kofun, the secondary line of kofun appears to have died out in the late 5th century, with the kofun he identifies with Wakatake, who supposedly died in 479. The main line of kofun, which share characteristics back to Hashihaka, believed by some, yours truly included, to be the tomb of Himiko herself, continued into the early part of the 6th century, overlapping with a new line, identified with changes in the kofun structure. So it is possible that there was, for a time, members of this older and newer dynasty both alive—and possibly co-ruling—at the same time. I mention this mainly because it is possible that Wakasazaki was around for more than the 8 years given for his reign. What if he did live until his 50s? Or at least longer than age 18. What if he wasn't the son of Ohoke? There are so many what ifs and not enough answers. And I suspect the Chroniclers weren't too concerned with challenging any of that. After all, Wakasazaki being an evil bastard that ended the dynasty of the virtuous Ohosazaki fit nicely into the worldview of the time—and as humans we love simple stories. It is so much easier when things are black and white—right and wrong—good and evil. But enough of that—let's take a look at this reign. So we left off with Wakasazaki calling on Ohotomo no Kanamura to help destroy Heguri no Matori no Oho-omi and his son, Shibi no Omi. He then took his place on the throne, ascending in Namiki, in Hatsuse. That was in 499. In 501, we are told that he had Ohotomo no Muruya call up a levy of laborers in the land of Shinano—modern Nagano prefecture—in order to build a castle, called Kinouhe, in the village of Minomata. As a side note, Aston notes that Ohotomo no Muruya had been made Ohomuraji in the reign of Wakatake, and tasked with assisting Shiraga, so surely he wasn't still alive and they instead meant Kanamura, the current Ohomuraji. And that may be the case. Then again, this entry could be misplaced, especially if the dates for this reign—and Wakasazaki's actual age—aren't exactly correct. But what's more important about this bit is that this appears to be the first time that we've seen any discussion of actual castle building in the archipelago, at least outside of the truly legendary tales. We've seen hastily constructed inaki, or rice castles, a time or two, and there has certainly been discussion of castles on the Korean peninsula, but this appears to be the first record of a permanent castle on the islands. Of course, when we say "castle", we should set some expectations. Japanese castles certainly were never the kind of stone keeps found in Europe, but these early castles were even distinct from those that you might imagine, like Matsumoto or Himeji, which generally date to the Sengoku era or later. Early castles in the archipelago were probably little more than earthen walls, likely built up around natural features, like the sides of a mountain or hill, though it doesn't have to be a mountaintop. They probably would have been based on Baekje—or at least peninsular—traditions. There were a number of Baekje style fortresses built in the 7th century to defend from a supposed invasion from the continent, but what would this one have been built for? Nagano isn't exactly on an invasion route, after all. But then again, it might not have been built anywhere near Nagano. Given that the levy was raised in Shinano, one might assume that is where the work was conducted. However, there appear to be some suggestions that the castle may have instead been built in the Nara Basin, near modern Kawai, but the information is fairly sparse and I wasn't able to find any good reasoning behind it, but it is as good as anything else at the moment. Could this have indicated a desire to strengthen military defenses in Yamato? If so, was there some sort of military threat? Or was it, instead, a projection of more militant authority? Were the fortifications part of some kind of pacification or militarizing effort? Unfortunately, there is not a lot to go on, in terms of actual incidents, but it does nag at me that Wakasazaki was later given the posthumous title of Buretsu, or Martial Merit—perhaps there was more going on than the Chroniclers cared to share. That said, the possible connection to Baekje and the continent, through this potentially Baekje style fortress, is a theme that continues in the account of Wakasazaki's reign, as later that year one Otara—or possibly Itarang—of Baekje died and was buried on Takada Hill. This is not a name I could find earlier in the Chronicles, but if they are referencing him, here, it is likely he was a noble or even a member of the royal family—perhaps a prince, like those who had been sent over in past reigns. If so, then it may have been important because of the events of 502, when the Chronicles tell us that King Donseong of Baekje was deposed and Prince Shima was raised up to be the king known as Muryeong—coincidentally, another ruler from this period whose posthumous title uses the same Bu/Mu character as in Buretsu, meaning brave or martial. This entry is dated a year later than the same events in the Samguk Sagi, but they appear to generally align. Prince Shima—or Syeoma—by the way was mentioned back in episode 62. His mother, one of King Gaero's own consorts, had been sent with Lord Kun to attend the Yamato court, but he was born on the journey, his mother giving birth on Kahara island—hence his name: Shima. This story feels quite apocryphal, to me, once again asserting a Yamato role in internal Baekje politics. The Chronicles then tell us that two years later, in 504, Baekje sent its first emissary to Yamato in some time: possibly since the death of Otara, and possibly earlier. This embassy also was late from the perspective that a new dynasty had come to power and it took them two or more years to reach out to their neighbor and ally. Finally, on top of all that, the emissary they sent, a Lord Mana, was apparently just a regular noble, which was apparently a diplomatic faux pas, as the Yamato Court expected the head of the delegation to be at least someone of royal blood. Yamato decided to hold Mana hostage, and would not let him return until the new King of Baekje went ahead and sent a new envoy, Prince Shika, the following year, in 505. Prince Shika apparently had all the proper bona fides, and it seems that good relations were reestablished. While in Yamato, Shika would have a son, Peopsa, who apparently stayed on in Yamato and became an ancestor of the Yamato no Kimi. The following year, in 506, Wakasazaki died in the Namiki palace. He had no heirs, though he had created the Wohatsuse Toneri as a familial group to ensure some legacy. Still, none of them were of royal blood. And those are the events that probably did happen during this reign, much of them probably coming from the copy of the Baekje annals available to the court, or possibly through family records, such as that of the Yamato no Kimi. The Samguk Sagi, I'd note, doesn't really have any clear evidence of dealings with the Wa at this time, and are much more focused on intra-penninsular conflicts, once more indicating that Yamato's direct influence on the continent appears to have waned. So, after 8 years on the throne, Wakasazaki passed away. We are told that he had no heirs: although the Kojiki makes it sound like he had a brother, that is ignored by our other sources, and in any case all sources agree that there was no heir. The line of Ohosazaki—aka Nintoku Tennou—died out with Wakasazaki, and the royal lineage had to be picked up from somewhere else. We'll get to how that happened when we talk about the next sovereign, but I wanted to mention all of this because it may explain why there is so much that doesn't make sense in this reign, not to mention the bad rap Wakasazaki gets. And maybe it was deserved. After all, if they put a ten year old child on the throne and he was ruling through his teenage years, dying at the age of 18, what would you expect? If a young person really were given the reins of power, and people did whatever they wanted, then there just might have been some pretty grotesque things done. On the other hand, Chikafusa goes with the idea that he is much older—taking the throne when he is 50. He then goes on and doesn't talk about any of the other acts that are said to have taken place, but instead focuses on connecting Wakasazaki's evil acts with the downfall of Ohosazaki's lineage. Before that, though, he quotes from The Spring and Autumn Annals, a classical work, ascribed to Confucius, chronicling the State of Lu from the 8th to 5th century BCE, and often used as a reference to help describe proper statecraft. Chikafusa pulls a quote about how the line of a virtuous sovereign—in this case Ohosazaki, or Nintoku—will last for a hundred generations. And yet, the various histories are replete with examples where lineages and dynasties die out, which is often attributed to a sovereign who lacks virtue. Chikafusa then recalls Buddhist history in India, where the reign of Ashoka—often depicted as the model Buddhist king—eventually gives way, three generations later, to a ruler who loses the Mauryan dynasty, which is again blamed on a lack of virtue. And while Kitabatake is of course writing many centuries later—and much of it from his prodigious memory—he's drawing on the same lessons that the Chroniclers themselves were likely using to judge a sovereign and their virtue. This all hearkens back to the continental concept of the Mandate of Heaven. That is to say that Heaven will bless sovereigns who rule well, but that inept and unjust rulers risk losing the Mandate of Heaven, which will then pass to another dynasty. That political philosophy contains a rather insidious line of thought, not dissimilar to the idea of the prosperity gospel in the West. The idea that good things will happen if someone is good and bad things will happen if someone is bad. It is a comforting thought, and appeals to our sense of justice, but unfortunately history shows that things don't tend to work like that. People are complicated, and bad things happen to good people all the time for no particular reason. Likewise, people can acquire power and wealth through less than scrupulous means and get to die in their sleep—sometimes even praised for what they have accomplished. But to the Chroniclers and later scholars, ideas like the Mandate of Heaven were often seen as a nearly immutable law, and it would not be the first time that facts were tainted through the lens of a supposed universal truth. Of course, the Sinic philosophical construct of the Mandate of Heaven had to be slightly modified for the archipelago, given the assertion, at least in the 8th century, that the sovereign had to be descended from the original Heavenly grandchild, but it still held for various branches of that family. And so we see that very logic here—Wakasazaki ended the Ohosazaki dynasty because he was evil; and we know Wakasazaki was evil because he was the last of the Ohosazaki dynasty. Similarly, whoever followed must be a descendant of the Heavenly grandchild, in one way or another, regardless of whether there was anything firmly connecting them to that birthright. Compare all of this to the way that the Chroniclers depicted Ohohatsuse Wakatake. He is clearly seen as mean and cruel, killing his own siblings based on the flimsiest of excuses, and murdering people because they didn't immediately go along with his suggestions to change things up. And yet, he's not the death of the dynasty and is actually depicted as leaving things in a pretty good state of affairs, all things considered. And so let's keep this all in mind as we go ahead and dive into the depravities that Wakasazaki is said to have committed, though I really do feel like these might be little more than character assassination. They seem to have just been dropped into the records, with not quite one per year. Speaking of which, this concludes much the family friendly part of this episode—and probably the historically relevant part as well. In the next few episodes I'll probably take a pause and survey what has been happening in other areas, outside the archipelago. Also a quick reminder that if this is not your bag, feel free to stop here. None of these episodes really contain anything that you would need for l…

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A Deadly Serious Poetry Battle Aug 01, 2022

Show notes

Normally we don't think of poetry as a particularly dangerous affair, but in the ancient Japanese court it was a serious business, with lives and fortunes often on the line as the elite competed to demonstrate their wit and erudition. For more on this episode, check out https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-69 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 69: A Deadly Serious Poetry Battle. This is going to be a short one. A quick look at the start of the next reign, following up with more next episode. For now we'll introduce this next sovereign and a touch on his somewhat tumultuous rise to power at rather young age. First, though, to recap: in the last couple episodes we've covered the sovereigns who followed Ohohatsuse Wakatake, aka Yuuryaku Tennou. These included Shiraga, aka Seinei Tennou, Woke, aka Kenzou Tennou, and his elder brother, Ohoke, aka Ninken Tennou. After the elder brother, Ohoke's, death, there was apparently only one male heir left: Wohatsuse Wakasazaki, who would eventually be given the monicker of Buretsu—or Muretsu—Tennou. As Crown Prince, he was next in line to the throne, but given the description of his reign, I think he may perhaps be the most maligned sovereign in the Chronicles so far. I mean, sure, the description of Wakatake was hardly complimentary, but much of his capricious violence would not seem out of place for a ruler who was likely heavily involved in martial pursuits. Besides, there is also the method by which he rose to the throne, implying he was quite comfortable with violence. Wakasazaki, on the other hand, is simply depicted as cruel. The account starts with a Chinese passage, lifted directly from an account of Emperor Ming Ti of the Later Han dynasty. As Aston translates it: "When he grew to manhood he was fond of criminal law and well versed in the statutes. He would remain in Court until the sun went down so that hidden wrong was surely penetrated. In deciding cases, he attained to the facts." The record goes on to add that he also "worked much evil" and never accomplished any good thing. This is also attested to in the Sendai Kuji Hongi, where they use the same language, but then the Nihon Shoki takes it one step further and sprinkles accounts of Wakasazaki's atrocities throughout the narrative. John Bentley, in his translation of the Sendai Kuji Hongi suggests that many of these episodes were added in later by the compilers of the Nihon Shoki, likely taken from elsewhere, and possibly borrowing some themes from the rule of a near contemporary in Baekje, King Dongseong, who was eventually overthrown and killed by his own subjects in either 501 or 502. Was Wakasazaki really so bad? We'll take a look and by the end of the next episode, maybe you can decide for yourself. Now, as you may recall from last episode, Wakasazaki's father, Ohoke no Ohokimi, aka Ninken Tennou, died in 498. None of our primary sources mention Ohoke's age, though later sources agree that he was 50 years old when he passed away. We do know that 456 is when his father was killed and he and his younger brother went into exile. That was 42 years earlier, and therefore he would have been about 8 years old at the time if he was 50 when he died, so that seems to line up. His younger brother assumed the throne in 484 and passed away in 487, presumably aged 38, making him about 7 at the time, which seems to fit with everything else. So when was Wakasazaki born, and why do we care? Well, there is no specific date given, but some sources claim that he was 10 years old when came to throne. That seems extremely young, given the stories we have, but not unthinkable—in later centuries there would be even younger children, with crown prince Tokohito invested at the ripe old age of two, becoming known as the unfortunate Antoku Tennou. That was certainly a different time, however. If Wakasazaki was 10 years old, that would put his birth around 488 or 489, just after his father had come to the throne, himself. He was named Crown Prince in 494, when he was six years old. None of this is too unreasonable, assuming other dates are correct. Likewise I figure it is unlikely he was born before 482, when his father and uncle were brought to the court—or if he was there may be some questions as to why his mother, presumably Kasuga no Ohoiratsume, daughter of Wakatake, would have married a servant in Akashi. So if we assume everything else is correct, he must have been between 10 and 16 years of age when he took the throne—probably on the younger side of that. Since he would only reign for eight years, that begs the question about any quote claiming to describe him when he "came of age"—just what age are we talking about? Granted, people in the past often had different ideas of what constituted adulthood, and many people described as adults would have still been in high school or middle school, today. Still, he was probably not considered an adult when his father died, and the country of Yamato therefore fell into a kind of Receivership, with the Prime Minister, or Oho-omi, taking the reigns of government. This Oho-omi we've discussed before. His name was Heguri no Matori. The Heguri family claimed descent through Dzuku no Sukune, son of the legendary Takeuchi no Sukune, the first to take the title of Oho-omi. Heguri no Dzuku no Sukune had helped Izaho Wake, aka Richuu Tennou, escape with his life. Later, Heguri no *Matori* had been made Oho-omi in the reign of Ohohatsuse Wakatake, aka Yuuryaku Tennou, who had also given him charge, along with Ohotomo no Muruya, of helping Wakatake's son, Shiraga, govern the land. See episodes 38, 54, 64, and 65. And so it is not surprising that he would step up to fill in the gap as regent while young Wakasazaki was still coming of age. We've seen regents in the past, though notably in cases where it is a member of the royal family, such as Okinaga Tarashi Hime, aka Jinguu Tennou. Here, however, Matori's motives are called out and he is accused of usurping the throne, using his guardianship of Wakasazaki as an excuse and claiming to do things in his name, such as building Wakasazaki a palace and then using it as his own. And that certainly would not be unheard of throughout history for a regent to take liberties and even do what they could to keep their status, such as forcing them to abdicate in favor of a younger heir to keep the regent in power. But is that what was going on, or was it something else? Well there is definitely a bigger story, and it is almost entirely in the Nihon Shoki. According to that one source the young Wakasazaki—whom I would remind you is traditionally ten years old—decided that he would marry Kage Hime, daughter of Mononobe no Arakahi—a figure we will here more about in the future, as he was quite prominent in the future. Right now, though, it was likely his grandfather, Itabi, and father, Masara, who were leading the Mononobe, a fact I'll come back to in a bit. The problem that Wakasazaki would run into, however, had nothing to do with Kage Hime's parentage, however, and everything to do with the fact that she was already seeing somebody: Shibi no Omi. Or, more properly, Heguri no Sibi no Omi, son of none other than the prime minister himself, Heguri no Matori no Oho-omi. Given that Matori had been a figure in the upper eschelons of the court since at least the end of Wakatake's reign, I wonder how old his son was—but I suspect considerably more than 10 years old. Now the Nihon Shoki claims that this tryst between Kage and Shiba was an illicit affair, though I'm not sure why that would have been except that Wakasazaki desired her. Still, when Wakasazaki sent a middleman to arrange a meeting with her, Kage Hime agreed, apparently too frightened of what might happen if she said no. She agreed to meet with him in a certain street. Wakasazaki requested that Matori prepare horses for him to head out, and Matori agreed, but then did nothing—presumably because he already knew about Kage Hime and his son, Shibi no Omi. Wakasazaki fumed over the delay, but quietly, and he eventually made his way over to the place of assignation on his own. Once there, he joined the poets who were making up poems on the spot, which was sometimes called an "utagaki", or poetry hedge. When Kage Hime showed up, Wakasazaki tugged at the hem of her sleeve to get her attention. He was thinking of nothing in particular—or at least, nothing besides Kage Hime, when someone came between them and pushed young Wakasazaki away. This was none other than Shibi no Omi, son of Matori. Wakasazaki was having none of this, and he apparently recognized Shibi no Omi. He got in Shibi's face and immediately threw down the proverbial gauntlet in true Ancient Japanese/West Side Story fashion by singing out an impromptu piece of poetry, punning on the name "Shibi": しほせのなをりをみればあそびくるしびがはたでにつまたてりみゆ o Of the briny current The breakers as I view, By the fin of the tuna That comes sporting I see my spouse standing. With that, Shibi had little recourse but to respond in kind. They went back and forth, trading verses laced with metaphors, puns, and innuendo. They talked about bamboo fences, representing the bridal chamber, as well as great swords, which I imagine referenced something a bit different. These kinds of poetry competitions were a staple of courtly life from at least the 8th century, and I have no problem believing they go back to at least the 5th, if not earlier. They could simply be friendly games, but they could also make or break a reputation, and in the cutthroat world of courtly politics, reputation was key. Embarassment could severely tarnish one's standing in court. As such, these were battles as much as any physical fight. You were expected to respond to your partner's poems in ways that built on them or even twisted the meaning. There were also well known poetic tropes and memes that one would try to leverage to demonstrate education as well. As such, the poems here went back and forth between Wakasazaki and Shibi no Omi. Much of it does easily translate into English, but eventually, Shibi made it clear that Kage Hime was his: おほきみのみおびのしつはたむすびたれたれやしひともあひおもはなくに o The great Lord's Girdle of Japanese loom Hangs down in a bow. Whosoever it may be-- There is no one (but me) whose love she requires. As realization dawned on Wakasazaki, he realized that the two were already a pair, and he had no more lines. He was at the end of words, so to speak. He blazed out in a rage and left the spot. With that, Wakasazaki started thinking back on all the little moments where Shibi and his father had slighted him in one way or another. He decided to bring an end to it, once and for all. Wakasazaki headed for the house of Ohotomo no Kanamura no Muraji, where he ordered Kanamura to raise troops and punish Shibi no Omi. The troops eventually found him—either at Narayama, or possibly at Kage Hime's house—and put to death the son of possibly the most powerful person in Yamato at that time. As Kage Hime mourned the loss of her lover, the troops regrouped. Kanamura doubtless knew that they couldn't just leave Matori in charge of the court—not after killing his son. And so he convinced Wakasazaki to let his men finish the job. He too his men and they surrounded Matori's house. Once in position, they set fire to it, killing anyone who might try to escape. With Matori dead, Kanamura then insisted that Wakasazaki formally assume the throne. He agreed, and had a ritual platform built at the Namiki palace, in Hatsuse—modern Hase. He then took Kasuga no Iratsume—and not Kage Hime—as his queen. Now there is a lot in here to make me wonder. The first is his age. Perhaps if we assume he is more like 16 years old, this makes a bit more sense—ten seems extremely young, even back then. Also, I wonder if Matori was really that treacherous—it seems more like a jealous rage on Wakasazaki's part that turned deadly, possibly with the help of a rival faction in court, represented by Ohotomo no Kanamura. What really gets me questioning this, though, is that the Kojiki has almost the exact same story. In that case, though, the protagonist was Woke, aka Kenzou Tennou, the youngest of Ichinobe's two sons, and the one most known for his poetic capabilities. His opponent, however, is still the same: Shibi no Omi. Except here he is said to be an ancestor of the Heguri no Omi—his exact parentage is not detailed. Similar to the Nihon Shoki, the two trade poetic barbs over a woman's hand—with many similar verses, though not in the same order. In this case, however, it is the royal prince, Woke, who comes out on top. He shows off his poetic prowess and gets the girl. Shibi was powerful, though—not the kind of person you casually piss off. Every afternoon, presumably when the business of court concluded, all of the courtiers would gather at Shibi's residence, gathering at the gate, probably for a night of drinking, poetry, and who knows what else. Woke and his brother agreed that they would need to strike first, before Shibi could organize against them. So, just as Wakasazaki had done, they gathered troops, surrounded Shibi no Omi's house, and killed him. Now, generally speaking, the Nihon Shoki is considered more reliable than the Kojiki. In this case, however, I have to wonder. In both cases the story has a similar feel. The sovereign-to-be has a crush on a girl, and Shibi no Omi, a powerful courtier, stands in the way. After a poetry battle, the sovereign-to-be resorts to military force, which is, itself, apparently justifiable because of who the protagonist is. So that is the story of the epic poetry battle with Shibi no Omi and its fall-out. Next episode we'll look more into the actual reign as well as the atrocities that were mentioned in the Nihon Shoki. Before we leave, however, a quick note on names. First, there is Wakasazaki's posthumous name of Buretsu or Muretsu Tennou. The reason for the confusion is that the character for "Bu" can be read either as Bu or Mu depending on the word. Buretsu appears to be the more common form. It is also a strange choice, as it seems to translate to something like "martial merit", and yet I'm not sure there is a lot to commend that particular name to this reign, as we'll see next episode. Then there is the name he may have been known by at the time: Wohatsuse Wakasazaki. The first of those recalls the name of his maternal grandfather, Ohohatsuse Wakatake. Wakatake's name starts with "Oho" or "Opo", which means basically "Great" or "Big", and Hatsuse—indicating where his palace was located. Meanwhile, Wakasazaki's name uses "wo", meaning "small", also paired with Hatsuse, where he, too, had his palace. The given name, however, while sharing the "Waka" with his grandfather, also contains "Sazaki", much like "Ohosazaki", aka Nintoku Tennou—his great, great grandfather. That connection is going to be interesting later, as it appears that Wakasazaki might indeed be the last of Ohosazaki's line... and that is going to cause some real questions if he can't father a child before the end of his reign. Which we will get into next episode, hopefully. Until then, thank you for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topi…

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