Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan

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**Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan**

Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan is a Japanese history podcast where we will be going through a chronological history of Japan. We will start with prehistory and continue up through the Meiji period. Episodes are released as soon as they are available–working on a monthly release schedule.

Latest Episodes:

All the Other Stuff May 16, 2023

Show notes

The Buddha Comes to Japan May 01, 2023

Show notes

This episode we talk about the first recorded instance of Buddhism--or at least the worship of the Buddha--in Japan, and we look at some of the politics and issues surrounding its adoption, as well as some of the problems in the story we have from the Chronicles. We also look at what legend says happened to the oldest Buddhist image and where you can find it, today. Hint: It is in a place that once hosted the Winter Olympics! For more check out our podcast website: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-85 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 85: The Buddha Comes to Japan. Last couple episodes we've talked about Buddhism. We talked about its origins in the Indian subcontinent, with the teachings of Siddhartha Gautama, aka Shakyamuni, the historical Buddha, and how those teachings spread out from India to Gandhara, and then followed the trade routes across the harsh deserts of the Tarim Basin, through the Gansu corridor, and into the Yellow and Yangzi River Valleys. From there the teachings made it all the way to the Korean peninsula, and to the country of Baekje, Yamato's chief ally on the peninsula. This episode we'll look at how Buddhism came to the archipelago and its initial reception there. For some of this we may need to span several reigns, as we'll be looking at events from early to late 6th century. This is also about more than just religion, and so we may need to dive back into some of the politics we've covered up to this point as well. Hopefully we can bring it all together in the end, but if it is a bit of a bumpy ride, just hang with me for a bit. So let's start with the official account in the Nihon Shoki, which we already mentioned two episodes ago: the first mention of Buddhism in the Chronicles. The year was 552, or the 13th year in the reign of Ame Kunioshi, aka Kimmei Tennou. That winter, during the 10th month—which was probably closer to December or January on a modern calendar—King Seongmyeong of Baekje had a special gift for his counterpart, the sovereign of Yamato. By this time there are numerous accounts of gifts to Yamato, generally in conjunction with the Baekje-Yamato alliance and Baekje's requests for military support in their endeavors on the peninsula, generally framed in the Yamato sources as centering on the situation of the country of Nimna. In this case, the gift was a gilt-bronze image of Shakyamuni Buddha, several flags and umbrellas, and a number of volumes of Buddhist sutras. King Seongmyeong sent a memorial explaining his intent: "This doctrine" (aka Buddhism) "is amongst all doctrines the most excellent. But it is hard to explain, and hard to comprehend. Even the Duke of Zhou and Confucius had not attained to a knowledge of it. This doctrine can create religious merit and retribution with appreciation of the highest wisdom. Imagine a man in possession of treasures to his heart's content, so that he might satisfy all his wishes in proportion as he used them. Thus it is with the treasure of this wonderful doctrine. Every prayer is fulfilled and naught is wanting. Moreover, from distant India it has extended hither to the three Han, where there are none who do not receive it with reverence as it is preached to them. "Thy servant, therefore, Myeong, King of Baekje, has humbly dispatched his retainer, Nuri Sacchi, to transmit it to the Imperial Country, and to diffuse it abroad throughout the home provinces, so as to fulfil the recorded saying of Buddha: 'My law shall spread to the East.' " Upon receiving all of these things and hearing the memorial, we are told that the sovereign, Ame Kunioshi, literally leapt for joy. He thanked the envoys, but then put the question to his ministers as to how they should proceed. Soga no Iname no Sukune, holding the position of Oho-omi, recommended that they should worship the statue of the Buddha. After all, if all of the "Western Frontier lands" were worshipping it, then should Yamato really be left out? On the other side of the argument were Mononobe no Okoshi as well as Nakatomi no Kamako. They argued against stopping the traditional worship of the 180 kami of Heaven and Earth and replacing it with worship of some foreign religion. With this split decision, Ame Kunioshi decided to have Soga no Iname experiment, first. He told him to go ahead and worship the image and see what happens. And so Soga set it up at his house in Oharida, purified it, and, per Buddhist tradition, retired from the world. He had another house, in nearby Mukuhara, purified and made into a temple. Here he began to worship the Buddha. Around that same time, there was a pestilence—a disease—that was in the land. People were getting sick and some were dying. This was likely not unprecedented. Healthcare was not exactly up to our modern standards, and while many good things traveled the trade routes, infection and disease likely used them as pathways as well. So diseases would pop up, on occasion. In this instance, though, Mononobe no Okoshi and Nakatomi no Kamako seized on it as their opportunity. They went to Ame Kunioshi and they blamed Soga no Iname and his worship of the Buddha for the plague. Accordingly, the court removed the statue of the Buddha and tossed it into the canal at Naniwa, and then they burned down Soga no Iname's temple—which, as you may recall, was basically his house. As soon as they did that, though, Ame Kunioshi's own Great Hall burst into flames, seemingly out of nowhere, as it was otherwise a clear day. Little more is said about these events, but that summer there were reports from Kawachi of Buddhist chants booming out of the sea of Chinu near the area of Idzumi. Unate no Atahe was sent to investigate and found an entire log of camphorwood that was quote-unquote "Shining Brightly". So he gave it to the court, where we are told they used it to have two Buddha images made, which later were installed in a temple in Yoshino; presumably at a much later date. And then the Chronicles go quiet for the next couple decades, at least on the subject of Buddhism, but this is the first official account of it coming over, and there is quite a bit to unpack. For one thing, the memorials and speeches once again seem like something that the Chroniclers added because it fit with their understanding of the narrative, including their insistence that Yamato was a fully fledged imperial state, and there is some fairly good evidence that King Seongmyeong's memorial is clearly anachronistic. But there are a few other things, and conflicting records on things such as dates and similar. So first off, let's acknowledge that there are too many things in the main narrative in the Chronicles that are just questionable, such as the sovereign "leaping with joy" at the chance to hear about Buddhism, and the fact that King Seongmyeong's memorial apparently quotes a part of the sutra of the Sovereign Kings of Golden Light, known in Japanese as the Konkoumyou-saishou-ou-kyou, but that translation wasn't done until 703, during the Tang dynasty, by the monk Yijing in the city of Chang'an. While it would have been known to knowledgable monks like Doji, who may have been helping put the narrative together in 720, it is unlikely that it was in use during the 6th century, when the memorial is said to have been written. In addition, there is question about the date that all of this supposedly happened. The Nihon Shoki has this event taking place in 552, well into the reign of Ame Kunioshi. However, there are at least two 8th century sources, roughly contemporary with the writing of the Nihon Shoki, the Gangoji Garan Engi and the Jouguuki, and both of these put the date at 538, a good fourteen years earlier, and in the era of Ame Kunioshi's predecessor, Takewo Hiro Kunioshi, aka Senka Tenno. The first of these, the Gangoji Garan Engi, is a record of the founding of the first permanent temple in Japan, Gangoji, aka Hokoji or, informally, Asukadera, which was founded by Soga no Iname's heir, Soga no Umako. More on the temple itself, later, but for now we want to focus on the historical aspects of this account, which mostly corroborate the story, talking about Soga no Iname's role in receiving the image and enshrining it, as well as the early conflict between the Soga clan and their rivals. The other source, the Joguki, focuses on the life of Shotoku Taishi, aka Prince Umayado, who will become a major subject of our narrative at the end of the 6th and early 7th centuries. Not only is he considered the father of Japanese Buddhism, but he had strong connections to the Soga family. Today, most scholars accept the 538 date over the 552 date when talking about Buddhism's initial arrival into the islands If the Chroniclers did move the event from 538 to 552, one has to wonder why. This isn't a simple matter of being off by 60 years, and thus attributable to a mistake in the calendrical sexagenary zodiac cycle of stems and branches, so there must have been something else. One suggestion is that the date conflicted with the chronology that had already been set for the sovereigns. 538 is during the reign of Takewo no Ohokimi, aka Senka Tenno, but what if succession was not quite as cut and dried as all that? What if Ame Kunioshi no Ohokimi had his own court and was in some way ruling at the same time as his half-brothers, Magari no Ohine and Takewo no Ohokimi? They were from different mothers, and thus different factions at court. Ame Kunioshi was young, so it was possible that there were rival lineages attempting to rule, or even some kind of co-ruler deal hearkening back to more ancient precedent. Some even theorize that Magari no Ohine and Takewo Hiro Kunioshi were simply fictional inserts to help span the period between Wohodo and Ame Kunioshi. Whatever the reason, this theory suggests that it would not have happened in the 13th year of Ame Kunioshi's reign, but that his reign started in 526, rather than 540. An intriguing hypothesis, but one that begs the question of whether everything in the reign would then need to be shifted to account for that. Given that there are a few attributable events noted that fit with outside sources as well, that doesn't seem quite as plausible without some very conscious efforts to change the timeline. Another thought is that the compilers weren't sure exactly when this event happened, but given Ame Kunioshi's reputation and long reign, they chose his reign to place it in because it just fit. I suspect that this happened more than once, with people more likely attributing past events to well-remembered sovereigns. If this is the case, then when searching for a date they may have just chosen one that seemed auspicious. In this case, 552 CE was, in some reckonings, an important year in Buddhist history, as there were those who say it as the beginning of the age of "mappou", the "End of the Law" or perhaps the "Latter days of the Law". This definitely is an intriguing theory, and resonates strongly. For most of Japanese history, the idea that we are in this period of "mappo" has had a strong influence, and to a certain extent it is kind of an apocalyptic view of things. The idea of mappo is that while the Buddha was alive, his teachings were fresh and available to all living things. However, after his death, his teachings had to be remembered and passed on. Even with the advent of writing, the meaning and understanding of his teachings, and thus an understanding of dharma, would also atrophy. Different translations, changes in meaning, and just bits and pieces lost to time would mean that for the first 500 to 1,000 years, the Buddha's disciples would keep things well and the meaning would be protected, but in the next 500 to 1,000 years things would decline, but still be pretty close to the truth. Then – and this is when the period of "mappo" starts - things would really start to decline, until finally, about 5,000 to 10,000 years later—or about 1,000 to 12,000 years after the time of the historical Buddha—things would break down, factions would be fighting one another, and eventually everyone would have forgotten the dharma entirely. It was only then that there would come a new Buddha, Miroku or Maitreya, who would once again teach about the dharma and how to escape suffering, and the whole cycle would start again. The year 552 would have coincided, according to some estimates, with 1,000 years since the time of Siddhartha Gautama, and so it would have had particular significance to the people of that time, particularly if you counted each of the first two Ages as 500 years each, meaning that the word of the Buddha, that his teachings would spread to the East, would have been completed just as we entered the latter days of the Law. Regardless of the time—and, as I said earlier, 538 is the more accepted date—the general events described – the statue, the offer of Soga to experiment, and the resulting events - are usually agreed to, although even here we must pause, slightly and ask a few questions. First off, was this truly the first time that Buddhism had ever shown up in Japan? The answer to that is probably not. There had been many waves of immigrants that had come over to Japan from the peninsula, and even if only a small handful of them had adopted the new religion before coming over it is likely that there were pockets of worshippers. Later, we will see that there are people in Japan who are said to have had prior experience as a monk, or who had their own Buddhist images. These images were probably used by people in their homes—there is no evidence of any particular temples that had been built, privately or otherwise, and so there is no evidence that we have any active monks or nuns in the archipelago, but who knows what was going on in communities outside of the elite core? There were plenty of things that were never commented on if it wasn't directly relevant to the court. Furthermore, with all of the envoys that had been to Baekje, surely some of them had experience with Buddhism. And then there were the envoys *from* Baekje, who no doubt brought Buddhist practices with them. So there was likely some kind of familiarity with the religion's existence, even if it wasn't necessarily fully understood. The second point that many people bring up is the role of the sovereign, Ame Kunioshi, or whomever was in charge at the time that the first image came over. While the Nihon Shoki attempts to portray a strong central government with the sovereign at its head, we've already seen how different households had arisen and taken some measure of power for themselves. At the end of the 5th and into the early 6th century, the Ohotomo and Mononobe houses were preeminent, with Ohotomo Kanamura taking on actions such as negotiating dealings with the continent and even manuevering around the Crown Prince. The Mononobe wielded considerable authority through their military resources, and now, the Soga appeared to ascendant. It is quite possible that the idea of the sovereign giving any sort of permission or order to worship Buddhism is simply a political fig leaf added by the Chroniclers. The Soga may have been much more independent in their views and dealings. To better understand this, let's take a look at the uji family system and the Soga family in particular. Now the Nihon Shoki paints a picture as though these noble uji families were organic, and simply part of the landscape, descending from the kami in the legendary age, with lineages leading down to the present day, although there is some acknowledgment that the earliest ancestors did not necessarily use the family names until a later date. For much of Japanese his…

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The Middle Way Through the Middle Kingdom Apr 16, 2023

Show notes

This episode we look at the transmission of Buddhism through the 1st to 5th centuries from India, to the Kushan Empire, and across the Silk Road to the Han and succeeding dynasties, and even to Baekje, on the Korean peninsula. For more, especially photos, please check out https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-84 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 84: The Middle Way through the Middle Kingdom. First things first, thank you to Bodil, Gabe, and Lauren for donating to support the show on Ko-Fi and Patreon. If you'd like to join them, will have information at the end of the episode. Also an apology—if my voice isn't in tip-top shape, well, it seems that COVID finally found us after 3 years or so, and I'm on the tail end of it. So thank you for your understanding. Last episode we talked about Siddhartha Gautama, aka Shakyamuni, the Historical Buddha, and his teachings, and how they spread, at least through the Indian subcontinent, with the patronage of rulers like Ashoka the Great. The original teachings, initially taught as an oral tradition, was eventually turned into a series of writings, called the Tripitaka. As for how those writings came about, it's worth talking about the languages involved. The native language of Shakyamuni was probably a language known as Maghadi, or something similar. But the Indian subcontinent, including the modern countries of India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Bhutan, Nepal, and Afghanistan, is over three times the size of western Europe. There are at eight south Asian language families, with hundreds of different languages, depending on how you count them. The modern state of India counts 22 official languages, not including English. I mention this to point out that as the Buddha's disciples spread his teachings, they were, by necessity, translating it into different languages. There is a story that a student suggested to the Buddha that they make Sanskrit the official language of Buddhism. Even then, Sanskrit was considered a language of learning and education, much as Greek or Latin was in medieval Europe, but the Buddha rejected this and insisted that his teachings be taught in people's own tongue. This proved great for reaching people, but over time there was a fear that the oral teachings might be lost, and so they were written down. The oldest written Buddhist canon is generally agreed to be texts in Pali, commissioned in Sri Lanka. These are sometimes called the southern Tripitaka—or Tipitaka in Pali—and it is the primary canon for Theravada Buddhists. In the north, however, Sanskrit remained the prominent language of learning, and texts written down and transmitted in the north—particularly those that made it to China and on to Japan—were typically Sanskrit or translations of Sanskrit texts. This is what some refer to as the Northern Tripitaka. Both of these were transcriptions of the oral teachings that Buddhist monks were otherwise memorizing and presenting to the Buddhist community. That oral tradition, in fact, never really went away, and these early texts were more like a reference so that monks could check their memory. Chanting the sutras—and especially chanting from memory—remained a highly prized skill of Buddhist orators. Now, the split between northern and southern texts is convenient, but it isn't necessarily as simple as all that. We have plenty of examples of texts, particularly in the northern traditions, that don't necessarily have an extant Sanskrit counterpart. In fact, the oldest extant sutras of any tradition that we have today are known as the Gandharan sutras, and written in the Ghandari language using a Karosthi script. Gandhara refers to a region centered north and west of the Indus river, in modern Pakistan, stretching to the Kabul river valley in modern Afghanistan and north to the Karakoram mountains, which is one of the interlocking ranges that form the boundary between modern Pakistan and India and modern China and the Tibetan plateau. It is believed to be the namesake of the city of Kandahar, in modern Afghanistan. This area was important, and not just to Buddhism. For thousands of years it has been a crossroads between the Indian subcontinent, the area known as the Middle East, and the inner trade routes of central Eurasia. It was part of the conquest by Alexander the Great in the 4th century BCE, becoming part of his kingdom, but then it was lost in battle to the Mauryan empire, which Ashoka the Great ruled in the 3rd century BCE. The area later fell to Indo-Greek rule from members of the Greco-Bactrian kingdom to the north. The most famous ruler during this period was probably Menander I, who is also remembered as a patron of Buddhism, building more stupas and monasteries in the region. The Hellenic Greco-Bactrians were eventually displaced by tribes of the Yuezhi, who themselves were being displaced by the Xiongnu, in central Eurasia. In this epic game of musical chairs, a branch of the Yuezhi eventually settled in the area, ruling a large territory, including Gandhara, under what is known as the Kushan empire. They had first moved into the area of Bactria and Sogdiana probably around the 1st or 2nd century BCE, and by the 1st century CE they were exerting authority over Gandhara. Around the time the Gandharan sutras were written down, in the 1st or 2nd centuries, Buddhism—especially Mahayana Buddhism—was flourishing in the region, and Kanishka the Great—don't you love how all of these rulers are known as "the Great", by the way?—ruled the Kushan empire, and hence Gandhara, in the early 2nd century. He is said to have been a great patron of Buddhism, although it was one of several religions, including Zoroastrianism, that flourished in the region at this time. The Kushan empire is believed to be the same Yuezhi that we mentioned in episode 79, when we talked about the Han diplomat Zhang Qian, who had trekked through hostile Xiongnu, or Hunna, territory across much of what is now western China in the 2nd century BCE, seeking allies against the Hunna. At that point, the Yuezhi had had enough of war, however, and they declined to fight, preferring to settle where they were and eventually growing into the Kushan empire. That connection with the Han dynasty, however, likely was maintained through trade routes that continued to operate across the vast expanse of central Eurasia. The Han dynasty itself continued to send out diplomatic missions to the various states of central Eurasia, and of course there were trade routes. As the Kushan empire expanded into the Tarim basin, it met once again with the Han, who had defeated the Hunna, and then claimed routes across the oasis towns of the desert regions. While the routes would have high and low periods, often depending on the state of various conflicts, in general it seems that Buddhist missionaries probably made it to the Han dynasty and the Yellow River region, and founded monasteries, as early as the first century CE and certainly by the second century. And, by our best understanding, the folks in these monasteries were already doing a lot of copying and translation of texts – both as a meritorious act, and to spread the word. Since this is around the time the Gandharan texts were written, they were likely a part of this larger tradition of copying and translating that was going on, although many of those early documents did not survive intact to the modern day. One of the earliest records of Buddhism in the Han dynasty is a record dated to 65 CE. Liu Ying, Prince of Chu and son of Emperor Guangwu of Han, sponsored Buddhism—as well as a school of Daoism—in attempts to better understand longevity and immortality. While he was eventually accused of treason, putting something of a damper on his patronage of the religion, it is the first mention we have in the histories of Buddhism, and in some ways it speaks to something else about the initial acceptance of Buddhism. While there were likely those well-versed in Buddhism, particularly in the community of foreigners from the Western Regions, evidence suggests that for many lay people it was just as likely about what people thought that the religion could do for them in this life as anything else. After all, there are many stories of miraculous events, and there was the concept of reincarnation and karma—the idea that by building merit, one could improve their lot in the next life. There was even a belief that by building merit, one could improve their lot in the current life—and apparently extend their life or even, possibly, gain immortality. Sure, there were the more intellectual and philosophical endeavors, but for many people Buddhism was just as much about what it could do for them in the here and now. Stories of monks and other holy men fit in right alongside stories of Daoist immortals. In Han tombs, where Buddhist imagery is found, it is often found with or in place of the Queen Mother of the West—the same image that is found on many of the bronze mirrors that traveled across to the Japanese archipelago around this time. It was likely that many of the early stories that the laypeople heard were probably fragments as much as anything. Even with the Tripitaka written down, much of the transmission was still done orally. Furthermore, it was in translation—and probably a translation of a translation. The earliest stories of Buddhism's transmission—particularly the translation of texts into Sinitic characters, the lingua franca of East Asia—claim that first the Theravada canon, and then later Mahayana texts, were translated in the second century, with foreigners from Parthia and Kushan credited with the early translations. Others would continue the work, and at first it was mostly people from the Western Regions doing the translating. One of the earliest stories of sutras making their way to the Han dynasty comes from the time of Liu Ying, when his brother, Emperor Ming, sat on the throne. The stories claim that the emperor saw an image of a golden Buddha, and that he requested either a statue or temple be erected. So he sent people off to Kushan, where they found two monks who would come back with them in 68 CE, bringing portraits and scripture—specifically the "Sutra of Forty-Two Chapters", which the two monks helped translate into a Sinitic version at Baimasi, or White Horse Temple. As such, this "Sutra of Forty-Two Chapters" has been accorded a status as the first such Buddhist work to be brought to the area that is, today, modern China, and the White Horse Temple, located in Luoyang, is counted as one of the earliest temples in the Yellow River region. That said, there are a lot of questions as to the authenticity of this tale, though it does mirror others about the arrival of Buddhism in the East, even if we cannot verify the actual first temple or work. Although Buddhism arrived during the Han dynasty, it wouldn't really begin to fully develop until after the dynasty's fall in the 3rd century. During the Southern and Northern Dynasties period, the metaphysical and doctrinal beliefs of Buddhism began to penetrate the elite circles in a more tangible way. Much of the philosophical underpinnings blended well with the interest at the time in "Dark Studies" and the school of "Pure Conversation", which we discussed back in episode 72. While Buddhist temples, much like their Daoist brethren, found some sanctuary from the chaos that created this period in the mountains and hills—not to mention a bit of added spiritual cachet—it was really the opportunity to gain greater state patronage that also helped. Monks like Zhi Dun began to reconcile Buddhist thought and doctrine with local beliefs. In some cases, local religious figures—including gods and other spirits—were incorporated into the Buddhist framework, often by their "conversion" to the Buddha's teachings. This was one of the strengths of Buddhism—although it carried with it a framework of Indian religious teachings and thoughts, it was not exclusive in its cosmological outlook. Buddhism was more focused on helping one escape the suffering of this world, which would take you beyond all such things. As the doctrines were meant for all beings—not just humans, but for animals, spirits, gods, and even demons—there was nothing to necessarily exclude other beliefs. This helped some of the ethnic Han dynasties to accept and even promote Buddhism. Meanwhile, some of the non-ethnic Han dynasties patronized Buddhism for either its miraculous powers or just because it was a foreign religion, much like they were foreigners in the Yellow River Basin. In many cases, state-sponsorship was a two way street. Dynasts would set themselves up as holy men, claiming to be Boddhisatvas. They would even appropriate the concept of the Cakravartin, a Buddhist "Golden-Wheel-Turning-King", which had overtones of cosmic overlordship. I can see how that would fit in quite well with local concepts that a sovereign might lay claim to ruling "all under heaven" and be carrying out a "Heavenly mandate". Along the Yangzi River, Buddhist monks gained a certain amount of independence. They were not expected to bow to the sovereign, for example; an acknowledgment of their holy nature. In the northern Wei dynasty, however, it was a different story. There, the ruler was said to be no less than an incarnation of the Buddha, and a Chief Monk was selected to oversee the Sangha and no doubt ensure that the various Buddhist communities were in line with official dogma. At the same time, the government provided captured men and women to work fields to help pay for Buddhist temples and their work. Likewise, people would make merit by donating wealth and land to temples, in hopes of blessings either in this current life or in the next life. For their part, the temples were expected to act as storehouses or granaries—the wealth that poured into them would be used to help alleviate suffering, especially in the case of droughts or floods. It soon became clear, however, that more wealth was going into the temples than was necessarily coming out. There were attempts to reign in this Buddhist establishment, often by limiting the number of temples or even the number of monks, as well as limiting what people could donate. These same edicts were undercut by the elites of the country, however, and often proved less than effectual. Along with sutras and Buddhist teachings, Buddhist images and architecture spread widely. In India and the Western Regions, a key aspect of many temples was the stupa. This was a mound containing a relic of some sort. Originally these relics were said to be remnants of the Buddha, after he had been cremated. Later, it was said that the remnants of the Buddha turned hard, like crystal, and that the original remains were gathered up and distributed to even more stupas. Later they may contain other relics, as well. The stupa was an important part of the Buddhist temple, but over time, its character changed. Instead of a mound like we still see in Southeast Asia, we start to see a building—a tower—which became a ubiquitous symbol of Buddhist temples in East Asia. This multi-level pagoda originally started off with simply three levels, often made of brick and stone, but over time it grew with five or seven levels. These towers were inspired by a description in the Lotus Sutra, a Mahayana text, that described a bejeweled seven-storey tower. Speaking of the Lotus Sutra, this was one of the many teachings that made its way to East Asia, and a hugely influential one. It purports to tell the story of a sermon by the Buddha outside of those mentioned in the Theravada texts. The teachings expounded upon in the Lotus Sutra had a great impact on Mahayana Buddhism and how people viewed the teachings of…

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Shakyamuni, aka the Historical Buddha Apr 01, 2023

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As we begin to talk about the arrival of Buddhism on the Japanese archipelago we start out with a look at the historical Buddha, Shakyamuni, and his teachings. For more, check out our webpage at https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode- Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 83: Shakyamuni, aka the Historical Buddha. First a quick note—it has been brought to my attention that some of the episodes are out of order, particularly the older episodes. I'm going to try to fix that. It probably has to do with a decision I made about a year or so in to not worry about the "season" number, since this isn't exactly a "seasonal" show. But if some episodes are marked as "Season 1" then they likely show up differently. I'll probably see if I can't just remove the "Season" number from all of the episodes and hopefully that will fix it. Last episode we talked about the happenings over on the Korean Peninsula during the reign of Ame Kunioshi, aka Kimmei Tennou, and it wasn't looking very good for Yamato and their allies. Over the course of the last several decades in our story the kingdom of Silla rose to power, brokered a deal with Baekje, and then ended up eating up all of the smaller polities that sat between them, including Nimna, Kara, and whatever else was there. A Baekje-Yamato alliance attempted to put the brakes on Silla's ambitions, but despite some major offensives they were thwarted time and again. Overall, it seems rather a bleak outlook for Yamato, but there were several things going for it. For one thing, with their close relationship with Baekje, Yamato was getting a plethora of new ideas—from how to govern to the subject of our current episode: religion. That's right, if you didn't figure it out from the title, we are finally going to talk about Buddhism. The Buddhist religion and its accompanying institutions have played a huge role in the development of Japan and Japanese culture, and so we are going to want to understand something about this and where it came from, and the journey it took to get to the islands. And to start with, let's go back to the very beginning, of what Buddhism actually is. Now this isn't going to be an in depth history of Buddhism, but I am going to try to hit the high points so that we have some context for things we'll see later on. It should also be noted that, while the core of the religion remained the same, specific beliefs and practices were not always universal across all people and at all times. Also, not everyone believes in exactly the same things, and as an outsider I'm going to do my best, but this will probably be more at the level of a Wiki article than a scholarly treatise. If you are interested in more, I highly recommend looking into what various scholars have written. Also, a lot of what I'm pulling from is Andrew Skilton's book, "A Concise History of Buddhism", mainly because I think it fits what we are trying to outline here, but I recognize that there other teachings and scholarly discussions. Still, I think most of what we talk about will probably be at an even higher level than that book gets into. And that brings me to another thing that's important to say up front: when I say Buddhism, I'm not necessarily talking about Zen, or any particular sect, at least not right now - though Zen is Buddhism, or a school of Buddhism. Likewise you might also hear about Tendai, Shingon, or even Jodo, or Pure Land, Buddhism— those are all sects within Buddhism, and just some of the schools that made it to Japan, although a lot of them don't appear until after the time we're currently in. The differences between these sects could be likened to the differences between Roman Catholicism and various Protestant groups—or even with the Orthodox church. While they have differences, they also have their similarities, and the core beliefs that make them all Buddhist. As to why this is so important—Buddhism had a huge impact on the development of Japan. As we'll talk about in a later episode, the adoption of Buddhism affected not just the philosophical thinking of the Japanese court, but had direct impacts that would bring about the end of what we consider the Kofun era. Furthermore, having at least a cursory understanding of Buddhism is going to be useful in understanding some of the ways people thought about the world they inhabited. Finally: I am probably going to butcher the pronunciation on a lot of Buddhist terms, but I will do my best. Where possible I may preference the Japanese terms, both because they are more familiar to me, but also because that is how most of us will encounter them in the context of Japanese history. Buddhism gets its name from the fact that it promulgates the teachings of the Buddha, the Enlightened One, and while various people are believed to have attained this enlightened state over the course of human history, we usually are referring to the individual known to us as the Historical Buddha, also known to us as Siddartha Gautama. Tradition holds that Siddartha was the son of one of the elites of the Shakya clan—later this would translate into the term "Prince", though some think that term may not be quite accurate. Still he was born into power and privilege, at the height of his society; later this would translate into him being considered a member of the Kshatriya warrior class. His birthplace is thought to be located in "Lumbini", at the foothills of the Himalayan mountains, in modern Tibet, in the 6th century BCE. Some traditions put the year of his birth at about 566 BCE, though there are those that suggest a later date, even into the 5th century. From a young age, we are told that Siddartha was protected from much of the outside world, living a life of luxury, and unaware of the poverty and suffering that went on outside of the palace walls. You see, a seer had predicted that he would be destined to lead an empire—either political or spiritual. And so his father did everything he could to ensure that Siddartha would aspire to the political. Even though his mother had died when he was young, Siddartha was largely insulated from any suffering until his teenage years, and he was even provided a young wife, Yashodhara, by the time he was sixteen years old—which probably wasn't that young, back in those days. It was as a young man, in his late twenties, traveling about the land in a carriage, that Siddhartha saw four sights that suddenly set his mind on a different path. First, he saw an old man, and in asking about him, it occurred to him that old age and infirmity were the inevitable outcome of life; there is no escaping it. Likewise he encountered people suffering from disease and even death, in the form of a dead body. All of this forced him to confront the fact that suffering is a part of life here on the mortal plane. Finally, he encountered a wandering ascetic, which got him to thinking about spiritual matters, and that perhaps there must be a better way—a solution to all of this suffering. As he contemplated what to do, he was suddenly graced with what should have been wonderful news: his wife had just given birth to a son. However, to Siddhartha, he saw this child as simply one more thing that was keeping him from going out and seeking answers to the problems he saw. The comfort of his life, the social obligations, the privileges he had were all metaphorical chains, keeping him from going out really trying to answer the questions he had. And so, at the age of 29, he absconded himself. He left his wife and child. He left the power and prestige and worldly possessions he had inherited from his family, and he went out to seek answers and to find out how to put an end to suffering. To do this, he sought out teachers, one after the other, learned what they had to teach, found himself at the end of what they could give him, and moved on. These teachers provided various meditation techniques, which helped, perhaps, to ease or even forget the pain and suffering of existence, but the pain and suffering were still there, nonetheless. It should be noted that a core belief at this time was in the concept of reincarnation. The idea that, based on your karmic balance, that is the difference between the good and evil that you did, here in the world, you would be reborn after death into a new body and a new life. If you did well, then you would be born higher up the ladder of existence, perhaps into a better caste or more. But if you committed sins and evil acts then you would find yourself born further down the ladder of existence, perhaps even as an animal or an insect. The problem, as Siddartha saw it, was that all of this just meant you kept going back through the same things over and over again, coming back into the world, and once more experiencing suffering. Even stories of the gods themselves tell of their wants and needs, and of their fighting, suffering, and even dying. As long as one stayed on the wheel of life and death, suffering would be inevitable, and you'd always come back around to it. He sought out answers in some of the extreme forms of asceticism. Holding his breath for long periods. Starving himself. These were meant to bring on a state wherein he hoped he would find the answers. Eventually, though, he spurned these techniques as well, claiming they were dangerous and unnecessary. He instead ate food in reasonable quantities, and found a form of meditation that felt natural. In other words, he sought out a path between the extremes of hedonistic overindulgence and severe deprivation—a Middle Way, one might say. Practicing this tempered form of existence, he meditated under a tree, and it was there that Siddartha Gautama achieved an awakening, or enlightenment. He could see the world for what it truly was, and gained profound insight into our condition. This is how he became known as Buddha, or "the one who has awoken", to quote Andrew Skilton. He was only 35 years old—he had been studying for 6 years to this point, when he finally found the answers he was looking for. Quick side note right here: For many, "Buddha" is not a single person or individual. People may talk about the historical Buddha to refer to Siddhartha Gautama, but technically "Buddha" is a title for anyone who has awakened to the truths of the universe. Buddhist traditions would come to define various people who had attained this enlightened state, though Siddhartha Gautama is generally considered the most important for the current era. Siddhartha Gautama spent the next forty-five years or so of his life wandering the land and teaching his Middle Way to anyone who would listen. He initially spent time teaching in the area of the Bodhi Tree, where he had first experienced his revelation, and this area is known to us as Bodh Gaya. He later went to a deer park in the area of Rshipatana, where five of the ascetics whom he used to hang out with were gathered. These ascetics had known Siddhartha when they were all practicing extreme deprivation together. They had come to see him as a teacher, but turned from him when he spurned his own attainments and started on his Middle Path. It took some initial convincing, but Siddhartha was eventually able to convince them and bring them around. From five, Siddhartha's disciples soon grew to 60, and he sent them out across the land to share his teachings with the people. His community of followers—known as his Sangha—continued to grow. As for Siddhartha himself, he seems to have focused much of his time on urban centers, with much of the last 20 to 25 years spent weathering the rainy monsoon seasons in the city of Sravasti. When he was 80 years old, Siddhartha grew seriously ill, possibly from something he ate. Realizing his own state, it is said that he predicted his death in three days, and he passed away among a grove of trees. Seven days later, his remains were cremated, and, much as with holy men everywhere, bone and teeth left over from the cremation were distributed as relics. Tradition holds that ten relics went to ten rulers for burial under stupas, or memorial mounds, as a tribute to Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha. After his death, his disciples continued to grow the community, or Sangha, and spread the word. The life and teachings of the Buddha were written down in various documents and these were copied into different languages. In about the 3rd century BCE, Buddhism gained a powerful patron in the form of Ashoka. No, not the Togruta jedi, Ahsoka Tano, but the Mauryan king, Ashoka the Great. Much of what comes down to us about Ashoka is as likely legend as fact, but we do know some things for certain because Ashoka left his own words carved in stone across his kingdom. Many of these mention Buddhist ideas and concepts and even identify key sites, such as the site of Lumbini, where Siddhartha Gautama was born. At the same time, I would be remiss in not pointing out that it can be difficult to suss out just what Ashoka believed. He certainly patronized Buddhism, much as Constantine patronized Christianity, including calling councils together to help ensure Buddhist orthodoxy, but it also can be read as a form of propaganda, utilizing Buddhist concepts to strengthen his own rule. We'll see how later sovereigns would use similar tactics to lay claim to being a Buddhist sovereign, as well. Whatever his motivations, the pillars and inscriptions left from the 3rd century BCE provide us some of the first instances of the term "Buddha", as well as another name, "Shakyamuni", the "Sage of the Shakyas"; the "Shakyas" being Siddhartha's own people. So with the patronage of Ashoka the Great, the influence of Buddhism spread. But what was it? Well, what we know is what was passed down, first as oral tradition, and later written down. First of all, all things in existence are impermanent. That is they come and go. People live and they die. Even we change, moment from moment, nothing is truly static in this world—even if it were to last for thousands and thousands of years. Then there is suffering—the bane of humankind's existence. However, it is also inescapable, at least in this life. Describing suffering, and his solution to it, Siddhartha, aka Shakyamuni, revealed the Four Noble Truths, which are at the heart of Buddhist teaching. They are, roughly: · Suffering is an innate characteristic of existence. Even the greatest pleasure eventually fades, leaving longing in its wake. No matter how many times you go round the wheel of life and death, you cannot escape it. · Suffering arises because of our desires. From our material wants and needs to simply our desire to not be hungry or cold. · Ending our attachment can help us put an end to suffering. · To put an end to desire, and thus to suffering, one should follow the Eightfold Path. So the four noble truths are something like a diagnosis of the human condition and then a potential solution. By the way, notice the numbers four and eight—just as Christianity tends to find particular value in the number seven (seven deadly sins, seven heavenly virtues, etc.) and 12 (Jesus and the 12 Apostles), Buddhism finds particular significant in the number eight, and, to some degree, the number four, although that would clash in some areas of East Asia, where the word for "four" sounded like the word for death. And that eight is found in Shakyamuni's recipe for how to end suffering: Right understanding Right resolve Right speech Right action Right livelihood Right effort Right mindfulness Right concentration These are all individual actions for someone to strive to achieve, but they are also pretty vague. After all, what is "Right Under…

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The Fate of Nimna Mar 16, 2023

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This episode covers the fate of Nimna, aka Mimana or Imna, and the general destruction and subjugation of the various states on the Korean peninsula between Silla and Baekje, along with the rise of Silla as a a true power. Using references in the Samguk Sagi along with the Nihon Shoki we will try to puzzle out just what was happening in this chaotic but important period. For more, see https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-82 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 82: The Fate of Nimna. Before we get into this episode a few notes. First off, this episode deals with war and with the trauma that brings, to include issues of death, sexual assault, and enslavement. I'll try to be delicate, especially where we don't need it to get the larger story, and perhaps reference some of it more fully in the show notes at SengokuDaimyo.com/podcast, so go there for more information. That said, I don't want to just gloss over it, either—these were violent times and history often deals with subjects we'd rather not talk about. We just don't have to sensationalize it, either. As we discussed last episode, we are into the reign of Ame Kunioshi, aka Kimmei Tennou. According to the dates given in the Nihon Shoki, Ame Kunioshi, the youngest son of Ohohodo no Ohokimi, aka Keitai Tennou, reigned from 539 to his death in 571. Thirty two years is a respectable reign for any sovereign, especially considering that two of his half brothers had taken the throne ahead of him. Add to this the thought that he may have been co-ruling in some capacity even before then and it is little wonder that he has quite the entry in the Chronicles. And yet, most of his entry is taken up with an almost singular focus on one thing: Nimna, the polity on the Korean peninsula that is also known as Mimana in Japanese or Imna in modern Korean. We've talked about Nimna in the past, and it is more than a little controversial. Sometimes it is ignored as a complete fabrication of the Japanese chroniclers, and other times it is equated with the larger Kara confederation. I suspect the truth lies in a complicated middle ground that cannot be fully explained as we only have external accounts regarding its existence. For my part, I think there is enough evidence to suggest that Nimna was a real place, and a place of some import, as it shows up in things like the Gwangaetto Stele, as well as in some of the Sinitic records as well, so it isn't something that the writers completely made up. At the same time, any talk of "Mimana Nihonfu" suggesting direct control by Japan or Yamato is just as likely made up to support Yamato's own causus belli, and may have even been included in some of the earlier documents that the Chroniclers themselves were drawing from. There is also the possibility that the term "Nimna" was no longer in use, but still referenced by Yamato, much as they tended to refer to anything in the Yangtze river basin as Kure, or Wu, referencing an old dynasty that had long since been supplanted by others. A lot of what we read about Nimna comes from the Baekje records that the Chroniclers frequently quoted. Unfortunately, there is no extant copy of this record, and all that we have is the fragments quoted in the Nihon Shoki, where the Chroniclers frequently embellished the accounts. They would often equate, for instance the Wa ethnonym—that is the term "Wa" used to refer to people of ethnic Wa descent—as an automatic reference to actual subjects of Yamato. It is much more likely that there were a variety of ethnic Wa polities—or at least multi-ethnic states with a sizeable Wa population—on the peninsula and the archipelago, outside of those territories directly controlled by Yamato, though by the time the Chroniclers were writing Yamato really was the only "Wa" polity around, at least of any major consequence. At the time, though, Yamato likely held a place of prominence and even immense influence across the various Wa polities on the archipelago and, possibly, on the peninsula, but things weren't as cut and dried as we tend to think of it regarding states and countries today. It is quite possible—even likely—that Nimna was important to Yamato, and most especially to the trade that occurred between Yamato and the rest of the continent. Based on various descriptions, Nimna, or the territory defined as such, bordered both Baekje and Silla, and it may have been made up of smaller polities, possibly with a core polity of Nimna at its head. I could even conceive that there may have been a semi-permanent Yamato embassy set up in Nimna—and possibly with the various other polities as well, though the idea that Yamato was actually controlling these states seems to be too much overreach, to me. Prior to 539, we are told that Nimna had been incorporated into Silla's territory, around 532, and Aston notes that in the Tongkam the name "Nimna" doesn't show up after that date. This is also one of the dates generally accepted for the end of any independence of the Kara confederacy as a whole, and when Geumgwan Kara is said to have submitted to Silla. As for the presence of ethnic Wa people on the peninsula, that does seem fairly well-established, assuming some accuracy to the Baekje record being quoted in the Nihon Shoki. There are several members of various families listed in the accounts that feel as if they are clear references to people of ethnic Wa descent. These are listed alongside other family names—likely of Baekje, Silla, or similar backgrounds. People like Mononobe no Makamu, who is listed as having the Baekje court rank of "Siteok" and who is being sent by Baekje with another envoy, whose name is something like Chinmu Kwimun. There is also a "Ki no Omi" who is listed as a Baekje envoy with the Baekje court rank of "Nasol", who was also sent with other Baekje envoys to the country of Ara, or Alla. There is speculation by a later commentator that Ki no Omi may have been the son of a courtier who had been sent on one of the expeditions from the archipelago, and a Baekje woman. Then there is "Charomato", who apparently was born of a "Korean" mother—likely meaning ethnically from the peninsula, but not of Wa descent. Charo Mato held the title of Ohomuraji, meaning the head of a prestigious family, but also held the rank of Namanye in Silla and went around wearing quote-unquote "foreign dress", and yet the records still identify him as being of Wa descent. While we've discussed the possibility that there were enclaves of Wa in the peninsula since ancient times it is also possible that members of families from the archipelago emigrated to the peninsula for one reason or another. For example, we have Kawachi no Atahe. This individual is noted in the Chronicles as the "Japanese authority" in the country of Ara, sometimes called Alla, which was one of the polities that was apparently lumped into the larger Kara confederacy. At the same time, it looks like Kawachi no Atahe may have been someone who had been exiled from Yamato—or somewhere in the archipelago—suggesting that he wasn't actually a "Japanese authority" but rather that he was probably a local official who happens to be of Wa descent. In the case of a name like "Kawachi no Atahe", that certainly appears to be a locative in the Yamato area, of course, but the whole story leaves me with questions. Now, as I stated, much of this information comes from the Baekje records that the Chroniclers then embellished. For example, the Chroniclers couch almost all of Baekje's interactions as being subservient to Yamato, rather than as those of an independent ally, and so as we look at this account, I'm going to try my best to address what is going on without too much of the Chroniclers' biases coming through. But without independent confirmation from another source, that can be somewhat difficult, as many of the stories here are not found in the remaining records in the Samguk Sagi or Samguk Yusa, for example. Now I'd like to start with something out of the Samguk Sagi, which tells us that in 502 the country of Silla finally came to be known by that name. Up to that point it had been known as Sara or Saro, evolving as it had from a coalition of about six city-states on the eastern edge of the Korean peninsula. As you may recall, during the reign of Ohodo, aka Keitai Tennou, there was discussion of Yamato hosting talks in Ara around 514. In reality, those were probably talks hosted by Ara itself, which seems to have risen to some prominence at this point. We talked about that back in episodes 76 and 77. Later, in 529, Baekje gained access to a port to better facilitate communication with their ally, Yamato. This is presented as a gift by Yamato to Baekje, but apparently the King of Kara had other ideas. They had already been on friendly terms with Silla since at least 527, and it seems that after this they turned even more towards Silla's embrace. Indeed, the Silla annals in the Samguk Sagi tell us that Geumgwan Kara requested a Silla princess around this time, an event that is also recorded in the Nihon Shoki, and would suggest that they were looking for a marriage alliance to cement their position with their powerful Silla neighbor. What began as a marriage alliance, however, quickly turned into outright subjugation by 532. Ara, likewise, seems to have been in Silla's sphere of influence, if not outright subjugated, by that point, at least if the Nihon Shoki is to be believed. Many considered this the point at which the Kara confederacy had been dissolved, though some histories consider that the individual polities retained some level of independence, resisting complete absorption for another generation or two, until about the early 560s. In the current reign, things start out in 540, one year into Ame Kunioshi's rule. King Seong of Baekje brought together a bunch of representatives of the smaller polities, ostensibly to talk about re-establishing Nimna. This is sometimes known as the Sabi conferences, named for the Baekje capital where they likely occurred. Against the backdrop of Silla expansion, Baekje wanted to prop up some of the buffer states in between the two kingdoms. They urged on Nimna at multiple times to re-establish themselves, promising aid, but Ara seems to have balked and suggested a more diplomatic route. This may have been because they were already on the side of Silla—Baekje certainly makes that accusation of Kawachi no Atahe, who held some influence in Ara. The Chronicles claim Baekje did this to carry out the whim of the Yamato court. In fact, however, it is much more likely that they were playing their own chess game with Silla. The extent to which their ally, Yamato, was actually involved is hard to say. Certainly we have examples of Baekje and Silla making their own alliances. For example, in 525, Baekje records that they exchanged gifts of friendship with Silla, though Best, who translated the records, suggests that this may be misplaced, chronologically, as there is no corresponding record in the Silla annals of the Samguk Sagi. Then of course in 530, the Nihon Shoki notes that Silla and Baekje teamed up against a rogue Wa commander, Kena no Omi, but then in 537, we have Yamato supporting Baekje against a supposed Silla-Goguryeo alliance. All of these shifting alliances make the accounts read like two very different stories that have been intertwined. On the one hand is the story of Baekje, trying to help the mighty Yamato restore the innocent country of Nimna, despite the pernicious interference of the irreverent Silla. On the other hand we see friendly—or at least tolerable—relations between Silla, Baekje, and Yamato, each agreeing to meet with each other and even ally with the other as the need arose. Unfortunately, we aren't given many of the deeper thoughts or reasonings, but I lean towards discounting many of the stories that make Silla out to be the bad guy for everything. In fact, it is much more believable that, rather than overarching themes it was a much more complicated and even local situation, where alliances were more matters of convenience and where even during war the various states kept up some kind of dialogue. In addition, we have to remember the biases of Chroniclers who knew what was coming—in the 7th and 8th century it was Silla who was Yamato's rival, and so here we see them, with the benefit of hindsight, building up to that conflict, which may mean an overemphasis on the threat Silla posed at the time. As for ethnic Wa involvement in events on the peninsula, while they were not all the responsibility of Yamato, there may be more than a few that were. After all, there were those from Yamato who had been sent on raiding parties and in warbands for one reason or another over the past couple centuries. Then there were various envoys, who could spend considerable amounts of time in a foreign land and even settle down and have kids. There was also likely another reason for people to move from the archipelago, which was the expansion of Yamato's own power. As Yamato exerted greater and greater centralized control, anyone on the outs with the ruling authorities may have wanted to seek refuge elsewhere, and given the fluid nature of things at this point in time, it doesn't seem unreasonable that they may have moved to Baekje, Silla, or even to some of these states in between. Once there, if they had administrative experience, perhaps they were able to find a place for themselves in their new home's own government structure. The Nihon Shoki records plenty of examples of Baekje, Silla, and even Goguryeo people coming to live in the island chain, so why wouldn't some people go in the other direction? This could also explain Yamato's own somewhat laissez-faire attitude towards Baekje's considerable entreaties to get a handle on the various Wa people on the mainland, given that they probably had no way to actually compel them to return, let alone listen to what they said. This was likely a source of consternation for the peninsula, much as various pirates and similar independent adventurers would be in later centuries, when the central government often could not, or simply would not, rein in the excesses of those on the periphery. The Yamato court may have also endorsed the behavior of these various Wa folks to some extent. There are hints that they were in close contact with Silla as well as Baekje, though the relationship does feel more tense, in general. We have to remember that our Chronicles are largely from either early Japanese sources or from Baekje sources viewed through an early Japanese lens. Meanwhile the Samguk Sagi tends to take a very pro-Silla point of view, while the other entities involved don't get much of a voice at all. Speaking of which, there are three other polities mentioned in the attempt to reestablish Nimna and to allow the various members of the Kara confederation to have their independence back. One of these we know as "Teokkwithan", which we are told lay between Kara and Silla, and so without aid from a powerful neighbor, like Nimna, it was constantly harassed. Then there is South Kara, which was small and weak, and without any real allies that it could call on. While we don't know the exact situation, one assumes it was probably on the coast, again near Kara and Silla. Then there was the state of Chaksyun, which is frankly depicted as evil and double dealing, and thus basically deserving of their eventual fate. I can't help but wonder if, in a way, these aren't just general stand ins for the stories that happened again and again, both in the peninsula but also in th…

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Politics of the Early Yamato Court Mar 01, 2023

Show notes

This episode we start our look at the reign of Ame Kunioshi Hiraki Niha, aka Kinmei Tennō. We'll start off with a look at his ascension to the throne and some of the politics that we can see going on in the court. We'll also discuss some of the theories regarding this reign, particularly its chronological placement in the Chronicles, which may not be exactly as it seems. Still, we are in what many consider to be the historical period, meaning that the records the Chroniclers were working from are assumed to be more accurate—they were likely using more written material, including books we no longer have extant. However, that doesn't mean everything is factual, and it is clear there are still some lacunae in the texts and some additional massaging by the Chroniclers themselves. For more information, check out https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-81 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 81, the Politics of the Early Yamato Court. Last episode, before our Nara tour interlude, we covered the life of Takewo Hiro Kunioshi Tate, aka Senka Tennō. He picked up where his brother, Magari no Ohine, aka Ankan Tennō, had[EB1] left off, and is said to have reigned for about two and a half years, from 536 to 539. During that time we see more of the rise of the family of Soga no Omi but we also see the Ōtomo no Muraji and the Mononobe going quite strong. The sons of Ōtomo no Kanamura ended up involved with the government in Tsukushi, aka Kyuushuu, as well as the war efforts across the straits, mainly focused on Nimna and the surrounding areas. Indeed, as we talked about last episode—episode 80—it is said that Ohtomo no Sadehiko went to Nimna and restored peace there, before lending aid to Baekje[EB2] . This preoccupation with Nimna and events on the Korean peninsula are going to dominate our narrative moving forward, at least initially. Much of the next reign focuses on events on the peninsula, rather than on the archipelago. Oddly, this preoccupation isn't found everywhere. In the Sendai Kuji Hongi—and other copies of the same work—there appears only a brief mention of Nimna, aka Mimana, in the record, which otherwise simply talks about inheritance and similar issues. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Before we dive into all of that, to include all of the peninsular goodness that we have coming our way, let's briefly talk about some of the things a little closer to home. Mainly, let's talk about the succession and who our next sovereign appears to be. So first off, his name is given as Ame Kunioshi Hiraki Hiro Niha, and he is posthumously known to us as Kimmei Tennō. For my part, rather than repeating the whole thing, I'm going to refer to him simply as Ame Kunioshi, though I'm honestly not sure if the best way to parse his name, assuming it isn't just another type of royal title. He is said to have been the son of Wohodo no Ōkimi, aka Keitai Tennō, and his queen, Tashiraga, a sister to Wohatsuse Wakasazaki, aka Buretsu Tennō. This would all seem pretty straightforward if it weren't for the fact that two of his half-brothers had taken the throne before him. Prince Magari and his brother, Takewo, were descended through another line, that of Menoko, daughter of Owari no Muraji no Kusaka. Menoko did not appear to meet the Nihon Shoki's Chroniclers' strict requirements for being named queen—namely, they don't bother to trace her lineage back to the royal line in some way, shape, or form. As such, the Nihon Shoki tries to pass off the reigns of the two brothers as though they were just keeping the seat warm while Ame Kunioshi himself came of age. None of the language used, however, really suggests that they were not considered legitimate in the eyes of their respective courts, and in all aspects they played the part of sovereign, and it is quite likely that if they had reigned long enough, or had valid heirs, themselves, we may be reading a slightly different story. As it is, the Chroniclers likely manipulated the narrative just enough to ensure that things made sense in terms of a linear progression. And that manipulation hardly stopped at his ascension. The account of Ame Kunioshi on the throne is filled with questionable narration. Beyond just the fantastical—accounts of kami and of evil spirits—much of the reign is focused on events on the Korean peninsula, and these are almost always portrayed as actions by the Kingdom of Baekje, one of the three largest kingdoms across the straits, along with Silla and Goguryeo. Baekje, in turn, is portrayed in the Nihon Shoki as a loyal vassal state, constantly looking to the sovereign of Yamato as their liege and attempting to carry out their will. For the most part, this is a blatant attempt by the Chroniclers to place Yamato front and center, and in control of events on the mainland. Taken at face value, it has for a long time fueled nationalist claims to the Korean peninsula, and may have even been designed for that very purpose. Remember, a history like this was written as much for a political purpose as it was record for posterity, and the narration is about as trustworthy as that of a certain fictional radio host in a sleepy desert community. And yet, we want to be careful about throwing the proverbial baby out with the bathwater, here. The Nihon Shoki is a treasure trove of stories about this period and what was happening on the mainland, even if we have to be careful of taking everything at face value. The details given in the text are sometimes more than any other sources we have for this period, and they are certainly closer to the source. Korean sources, such as the Samguk Sagi, the Samguk Yusa, and the Tongkam all have their own gaps in the literature of the time, as well as their own political aims and goals, such that even they are suspect. Sure, the flowery speechification is probably a little too much, but much of the back and forth seems reasonable, and there are numerous times where the Nihon Shoki directly quotes the copy of the Baekje annals that they had at the time—a text that is no longer extant, and which seems to have items that did not make it into later collections. By following the back and forth and the flow of allegiances and deceptions, and looking at who was said to have been involved—both the individuals and the countries—we might be able to draw a picture of this era. And what a picture it will be. I probably won't get to it all today, but there is conflict over Nimna, with Baekje and Yamato typically teaming up against Silla and Goguryeo, but there are other things as well. For one thing, nothing in this era is cut and dried, and while there are overarching themes, alliances were clearly fluid, and could quickly change. Furthermore, all this activity spawned a new level of interaction, particularly between Baekje and Yamato, and we see a new era of Baekje sharing their knowledge with Yamato. For instance, this reign we see the first mention of Yin-Yang Divination studies—the famous Onmyouji—as well as calendrical studies in the archipelago. We also see the arrival of Buddhism to the islands. Well, at least we see the formal introduction of Buddhism; given all of the people in the archipelago who came over from the continent, there were likely more than a few Buddhists already living in the archipelago, but it hadn't grown, yet, to be a State religion, as it would be in later centuries. To try to do this period justice, I'm going to try to break things down a bit so that we can focus on various themes as we move through the stories here. It will probably take us a few episodes to get through. Furthermore, at some point here I want to talk about this new religion, Buddhism, and how it traveled all the way from India to the islands of Japan. But for now, let's focus on the Chronicles. Not all of what is talked about in this reign is focused on the mainland, so I'm going to start us off talking about the stories about this period that are taking place in the islands themselves, starting with how Ame Kunioshi came to the throne. Or rather, with some events just before he came to the throne. The first story about Ame Kunioshi comes when he is simply a prince—it is unclear during which reign this is supposed to have happened, only that it happened before he came to the throne. The Chronicles say that Ame Kunioshi had a dream in which he was told to seek out a man named Hata no Ōtsuchi. We've seen in the past these kinds of oracular dreams, where the gods, or kami, will speak directly to a person—often to the sovereign or someone close to the sovereign. By all accounts, the ability to act as a conduit for the kami was an important aspect of rulership and political power at this time, and we've seen the supposed consequences of not listening to such an oracle as well. And so he sent people out to find this man, who was eventually found in the Kii district of the land of Yamashiro. Now this area is not surprising. It is identified as the area, today, in the modern Fushimi district of Kyoto. In fact, it includes the area of the famous Fushimi Inari Taisha—the Fushimi Inari shrine. That shrine is also connected to the Hata family. For those who don't recall, the Hata family appear to have been descended from weavers who were brought over from the continent. The kanji used for their name is the same as that of the Qin dynasty, from which we get the modern name of China, though the pronunciation is taken from the word "Hata", which appears to refer to a type of cloth, and also resembles the word for banners or flags. We mentioned them some time back in episode 63, when we talked about one of the early heads of the Hata, who was given the name Uzumasa. That name is still used to identify a district in Kyoto to this day. And so here we are, back in the Kyoto area, near Fushimi shrine, which is also, as it happens, connected to the Hata family. That story is found not in the Nihon Shoki, but rather it is attributed to fragments of the Yamashiro no Fudoki. In that account we hear tell of a wealthy man named Irogu, whom we are told is a distant relative of Hata no Nakatsu no Imiki—no doubt a contemporary to the Yamashiro Fudoki, and the reason the story made the cut. Irogu, it seems, had made himself wealthy through rice cultivation. In fact, he had so much rice that he was using mochi—pounded glutinous rice cakes—as targets for his archery practice. As he was shooting at the mochi, suddenly one of them turned into a swan and flew up into the sky, up to the top of a nearby mountain. Where it landed rice, or "ine", began to grow. That mountain is none other than the site of Fushimi Inari Shrine, a shrine that will show up again and again in various stories, as it was quite prominent. Though the shrine was only founded in the 8th century, the story may indicate that there were older rituals, or perhaps that it was a focus of worship much like Mt. Miwa, down in the land of Yamato, to the south, and that shrine buildings were simply added to the mountain at a later date. Fushimi is, of course, the place, and Inari is the name of the god, or kami, worshipped at the shrine. Inari is a god of farming—specifically of rice cultivation—and today small Inari shrines can be found throughout Japan. They are typified by red gates—usually multiple gates, one after the other, often donated by various individuals. In addition, one might see Inari's servants and messengers, foxes, which take the place of the lion-dogs that often guard shrine precincts. Importantly, these foxes are not the kami themselves, but simply the kami's messengers. Still people will often bring gifts of oily, deep fried tofu—abura-age—said to be a favorite of foxes, to help ensure that their prayers—their messages to the kami—are swiftly and properly delivered. I could probably do an entire episode on Fushimi Inari and Inari worship in Japan. There is so much material on the phenomenon on foxes, or kitsune, and fox-spirits, especially with the co-mingling of both continental and insular belief, which is sometimes at odds. For now, however, we can confine ourselves to the fact that Fushimi clearly had connections to the Hata family, who have shown up a few times in the past, but are still largely taking bit roles in things at the moment. Nonetheless, since the Chroniclers were writing from the 8th century, things like this, which were no doubt important to the powerful families of their day, were often included. Getting back to our main story, when Hata no Ōtsuchi came before the prince, Ame Kunioshi, he told a story of how he had been traveling the land, coming back from trading in Ise, when he came upon two wolves, fighting each other on a mountain. The wolves were each covered in blood from their hostilities, and yet, through all of that, Hata no Ōtsuchi recognized them as visible incarnations of kami. Immediately he got off his horse, rinsed his hands and mouth to purify himself, and then made a prayer to the kami. In his prayer he admonished them for delighting in violence. After all, while they were there, attacking each other, what if a hunter came along and, not recognizing their divine nature, took both of them? With his earnest prayer he got them to stop fighting and he then cleaned off the blood and let them both go, thus saving their lives. Hearing such a story, Ame Kunioshi determined that his dream was likely sent by the same kami saved by Ōtsuchi, or perhaps another spirit who had seen his good deed, who was recommending this good Samaritan to the prince. And who was he to deny the kami? So when he came to the throne, Ame Kunioshi put Hata no Ōtsuchi in charge of the Treasury. That would have to wait until he actually ascended the throne, however; an opportunity that preserved itself with the death of his half brother, Takewo no Ōkimi. When Takewo passed away in 539, we are told that the ministers all requested that Ane Kunioshi take the throne, but at first he deferred, suggesting that the wife of his eldest half brother, Magari no Ohine, aka Ankan Tennō, take the throne, instead. This was the former queen, Yamada, daughter of Ōke no Ōkimi, aka Ninken Tennō, so no doubt she had a good sense of how the government should work. Yet she, too, waved off the honor. Her reasoning, though, is a very patriarchal and misogynistic diatribe about how women aren't fit four the duties of running the country. Clearly it is drawn from continental sources, and it always makes me wonder. After all, the Nihon Shoki was being written in the time of rather powerful women controlling the Yamato court – which, I imagine irked some people to no end, especially those learned in classic literature, such as the works of Confucius. So I wonder why this was put in. Did he truly defer to her? Or was this just to demonstrate his magnanimous nature? Was she pushed aside by the politics of the court? I also wonder why they went to her, and not Takewo's wife. It is also interesting to me that the Chroniclers only note her own objections to her rule, and there isn't a peep out of the assembled ministers. There appears to be another possible angle. Some scholars have pointed out inconsistencies with the timeline and events in the reign of Ame Kunioshi that may have actually happened much earlier, including the arrival of Buddhism. They suggest that perhaps there was a period of multiple rulers, possibly rival dynasties, with Magari no Ohine and his brother, Takewo, handling one court and Ame Kunioshi ruling another. If that were the case, then was Yamada the senior person in the other line? At the very least she represents the transfer of power and authority over to Tashiraga's lineage. Moving forward, we're going to want to pay close attention to these kinds of political details. Oft…

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Traveling through the ancient Nara Basin, Part 1 Feb 16, 2023

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Quick bonus episode talking about my own recent travels around the Nara Basin with some suggestions for those interested in ancient Japanese history. For photos, check out: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-nara-part1 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is a special episode: Traveling through the ancient Nara Basin, part 1 First things first, apologies as I had fully intended to jump into the story of Ame Kunioshi Hiraki Hiro Niha, aka Kimmei Tennō. However, I've been recently overcome with a bout of Real Life, which has prevented me from doing the full prep work that such an episode deserves. The entry for Kimmei Tennō in the Nihon Shoki is easily one of the longer entries, and there is a lot to digest, and I don't want to jump in until I've been able to do a bit more research. Instead, I figured I would do something different and introduce you to a little tour of the Nara Basin and all of the wonderful sites that one can go and check out, many of which are still there and quiet accessible. In fact, I recently spent some time there doing *cough* "research", by which I mean traveling around and walking through the ancient landscape to see what remained. Now many people may be familiar with Nara, the city which gave the basin its name. Founded in 710, it was the site of the first long term, permanent continental style capital on the archipelago. Today it is a beautiful city, nestled against the mountains, with ancient temples, shrines, and the occasional kofun, which predate the founding of the ancient capital. It is also home to what we've come to call the Nara attack deer. Within the main historical park area, between Kōfukuji Temple, Tōdaiji Temple, and Kasuga Shrine, hunting is strictly outlawed, and the deer wander boldly throughout the streets. Unafraid of humans, they are generally polite, until they find an easy mark: typically a timid soul who has foolishly purchased a set of Shika Senbei, or deer crackers, hoping to gently feed the deer in an Instagram-worthy video post. The deer, however, often have other ideas, especially the young bucks, who might even use their antlers to prod such people, hoping to startle them into dropping all of the crackers. All joking aside, the deer in Nara are just as much a draw as the rest of the city, which draws thousands of tourists every year, but it is only a small part of a larger area. Today we are going to explore a little bit outside the standard tourist route, in the southeast corner of the basin, between the cities of Tenri and Sakurai. This is the area mentioned in the oldest stories in the Chronicles, from the time of the "first sovereign", Mimaki Iribiko, and his successor, Ikume Iribiko. Archaeological excavations have turned up evidence of people from across the archipelago living here—or at least interacting—since the third century, which we talked about in Episode 28. That's right around the time of Queen Himiko and the emergence of the giant round keyhole shaped tumuli, or Zenpō-kōen Kofun, thought to contain the remains of the kings of ancient Yamato. Today, this area remains relatively rural. Between the cities of Tenri and Sakurai, they still have less than half the population of Nara, their northern neighbor. Urban areas around the train stations quickly give way to rice fields and fruit orchards. The lack of urban development is often a good thing for archaeologists, suggesting that there remain many potential sites under the soil. It can be a bit of a challenge, however, for the modern traveler. While there are trains and local b uses, expect to experience much of the area as the ancient people of Yamato would have: by walking. To start us off, then, let's imagine ourselves traveling down, by train, to Sakurai, and to the ancient shrine of Ōmiwa. As you approach, keep an eye out for the massive Shintō torii gate that towers over the buildings around it, marking the entrance to the omote-sandō, the outer approach, to Ōmiwa and the sacred Mt. Miwa that is the focus of worship, there. Even today, Miwa dominates the landscape. While the large torii are clearly modern—and even the famous triple torii gates at the foot of the mountain are probably a later addition—it nonetheless demonstrates the continued importance of the shrine and the sacred mountain in this region. Fortunately, today, you need not walk the entire approach, as the train station drops you off much closer to the shrine, along the latter part of the omote-sandō. Speaking of which, I should perhaps describe this common feature at many famous shrines and temples. The omote-sandō, or outer approach, is both a part of the shrine and yet not at the same time. It is typically the main road to the shrine, or at least the traditional approach. Unlike the main ground of the shrine, these are public roads with numerous shops lining the sides, typically geared towards those making a pilgrimage to the shrine itself. You can usually find various souvenirs, restaurants, as well as local sweets and delicacies to take back as gifts. These paths may have one belonged to the shrine, especially if it used to be a larger institution that could then use the land rents to help pay for their own upkeep, and you may find auxiliary shrines or temples along the way, but there seems to have always been a kind of symbiotic relationship with places of worship and the merchants catering to the pilgrims visiting them. It is not dissimilar to how restaurants, motels, and gift shops spring up around various attractions anywhere else in the world. Fortunately, at Ōmiwa shrine, as I said the train station is actually well along the outer approach, meaning you don't have to walk the entire thing if you do not wish. As you approach the main shrine, you'll come to a second torii gate, leading you into the forested area of the main shrine grounds, which leads you to the Edo period haiden, or prayer hall. One of the unique things about Ōmiwa shrine is that they never built an actual building to contain the spirit of the kami of the shrine, which in this case is Ōmononushi. Instead, the kami lives on the mountain itself. This is thought to be the older style of worship, where the kami were thought to live in the mountains, close to the sun and the sky. Many stories talk about the kami alighting from the heavens onto mountains, and early depictions of them taking corporal, or visible, form are often as animals—snakes and other such things—living on or near the mountain. There is a teaching, in fact, that as rice cultivation grew in Japan, many communities would create a sacred space in or near the rice fields, designating a pillar and setting up a sacred fence, and call the kami down from the mountain to reside close to the workers, who were growing there rice. At harvest time, the village would celebrate, offering a part of the harvest to the kami, who had helped it grow, and sending the kami back to the mountain. Over time, the pillar was covered with a roof, to avoid the rot and deterioration that comes with being outside throughout most of the year, and eventually that grew into a building, where ceremonies could be conducted. This is one story for how the modern shrine came to be. In most places, even at sacred mountains, they will have an actual shrine building for the key focus of worship, but, as I said, at Ōmiwa they have maintained an older style of worship. Therefore, where most prayer halls are simply placed in front of the main building, where the spirit is enshrined, the haiden of Ōmiwa sits in front of the entrance to the mountain itself. If you find yourself with the time and the inclination, you can hike the trails up Mt. Miwa, though they are clear to indicate that this is a religious place, and not just a hike through the wilderness, and people are expected to treat it appropriately. Regrettably, when I was there I had limited time, and so I didn't get a chance to hike up, but maybe that will be a trip for another day. From Ohomiwa shrine, you have several options. The most scenic is to travel north along the Yamanobe no Michi, the ancient mountain road. This road—though mostly more a walking path—is touted as the oldest road in all of Japan. This designation comes from the fact that it is the first road mentioned in the Nihon Shoki, with various kofun and ancient palaces sited in relation to it over the years. It travels up along the foot of the mountains all the way to Nara city, and takes you through some absolutely beautiful countryside. I was last there in the fall, and people were walking the trail looking for pictures of fall foliage there and in the mountains. It is unclear to me just how stable the route of this Yamanobe no Michi actually has been over the years. Certainly there have been paths along the foothills, but the designation of this particular path seems, perhaps, arbitrary. What I will not dispute is that this path winds through countryside that has a long history, which you can see all around you. Aside from the larger, more obvious kofun of the ancient kings, the landscape is dotted with smaller examples as well. As I walked along the trail, I made something of a sport of "kofun hunting"—looking for mounds in fields and then checking to see if it was a kofun or a natural feature. Of course, more often then not, it was a kofun—even if it is now in the middle of some farmer's persimmon orchard. It was fascinating to see just how many were there—especially when you consider that many mounds may have collapsed or been worn away over the years. Not all of the kofun I wanted to see were along the ancient path ways, however. Specifically, I was on the lookout for one of the oldest of the giant keyhole tomb mounds: Hashihaka kofun. Hashihaka is a bit of a detour from the old Yamanobe no Michi—if you take the train it is about halfway between Miwa and Makimuku JR train stations. Coming up on it, and not knowing anything else, you might dismiss it as little more than a large, tree-covered hill, though the water-filled moat might alert you that something is up. Of course, from up above, or looking at a map, one can clearly make out the keyhole shaped features of the kofun mound. As I said, this is thought to be one of the oldest of the keyhole shaped mounds. It has been dated to the mid to late 3rd century, and many people believe that this must be the resting place of the famous Queen Himiko, or at least someone from around her time. The fact that the Chronicles say that there is a woman buried there who demonstrated shaman-like powers in her interactions with the kami lend a lot of credence to that—something we first discussed back in episode 13, when we talked about the evidence for Queen Himiko. When it was new, of course, the mound would not have been covered in trees. The various levels would have been carefully graded, with clear steps showing the levels up to the top of the mound. It may have started out at its core as a small hill that was then reshaped, or it may have been built from the ground up—I'm not sure if we can tell without more intrusive investigations. The surface would have been covered with small stones, which likely inhibited too much growth, although it still would have required maintenance, and likely some number of households were identified to regularly provide labor and rice for the mound's upkeep. An early kofun like this would not have had the elaborate haniwa of later evolutions. There have been found some haji-ware style pots that have holes drilled into the bottom, thus indicating that they were not likely being used to store anything—or at least not in the way a normal pot would. These were along the squarish front shape of the kofun. Later, we find cylindrical stands, which become the basis for the actual haniwa that cover so many other kofun. Still, even without this, the shape and the material and other such aspects would have called out that this was a special place. Hashihaka kofun sits in the shadow of Mt. Miwa, though it isn't directly oriented towards it. Possibly there is religious significance in its direction, but some of that may have been dictated by other local features at the time, some of which may no longer be evident, including the shape of any original hill or mound used in the kofun's creation. It is clear, however, that it would have been visible for quite some distance, and even today it towers over most of the one-to-two storey buildings that surround it. It would also have been clearly visible from the site of our next stop, at Makimuku JR train station. Makimuku is a small station, and mostly just a stop in the region for those living in the area. Still, when you are in a land as steeped in history as the Nara basin, there is always something around, and at Makimuku it is the remains of an ancient third century palace. Uncovered near the JR train lines and the station, the Makimuku palace is largely indicated by postholes, indicating at least three distinct raised buildings on the site. Numerous excavations have been carried out in the area, indicating habitation through the 3rd and 4th centuries, with a shift closer to the mountains in the latter part of the area's focus. There is indication of trade with people on Korean peninsula, and indication of goods from as far away as Southeast Asia, at least. Many of these excavations are now beneath homes and other buildings that have sprung up over time, but you can still see where the Makimuku palace was, though access is a little strange. From the station, one walks around and through the nearby streets—you actually walk away from the ruins and then eventually back towards them. The actual entrance to the site is more like an empty lot between two buildings, providing access to an area with the location of the main postholes indicated in concrete. There is a small board where someone is ensuring that information about the site is being kept up for any interested travelers. This is definitely a site for someone with a keen interest in history and not necessarily a site that most tourists would likely come to visit. There are no reconstructed buildings—anything that someone did build would simply be conjecture, as it is merely the postholes and some various fragments of pottery and other trade goods that have been found. And yet from there you can get a sense of the size of how large the Makimuku area, at the foot of Mt. Miwa, might have been. From there to Hashihaka kofun is a comfortable walk, and both Hashihaka and the sacred Mt. Miwa would have been clearly visible at the time. Nearby is the Yamato River, to provide another form of early transportation. And all around is flat land that makes for excellent rice farming, which would have spurred on the ancient economy and may explain how Yamato was able to grow so large so quickly. Around the countryside, we have plenty of reminders of this period. Besides Hashihaka kofun, there are numerous others, many of them from the late 3rd to 4th centuries and attributed to some of the figures from the Nihon Shoki, including Mimaki and Ikume Iribiko. Of course, there are also various signposts that detail where tradition states this or that palace was or some other event. Given the lack of detail in the chronicles, it is hard to know how accurate any of this is, but walking around at least gives you some idea of the area and where all of this was taking place. Many of these are just north of Sakurai proper, and in the area of Tenri city, in Nara, but I'm going to hold off on talking about that at this point, as we'll probably make that the focus of a second part of this little travelogue. I do want to point out, though, a few more things in the area. For instance, there is a shrine to sumou, recounting the supposed first sumou match mentioned in the…

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The Asuka Period Begins Feb 01, 2023

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This episode we take a look at the reign of Takewo Hiro Oshikuni Tate, aka Senka Tenno, and we take our first steps into what is referred to as the Asuka Period, due to the large number of rulers who had courts in the region of Asuka in the southern Nara Basin. For more information, check out https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-80 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is Episode 80: The Asuka Period Begins! When last we looked at the Chronicles, we were in the reign of Magari no Ohine, aka Ohoye—though we've gone with Ohine so I'm going to stick with that—aka Ankan Tennou. Assuming the dating in the Chronicles is correct, he was born about 465, and would have come of age in the era of Wakatakiru no Ohokimi, aka Yuuryaku Tennou. When his father, Wohodo no Ohokimi, first took the throne in 507, Ohine would would have been in his early forties—his father only in his mid to late 50s. And so when his father passed away about 25 years later, Ohine was already into his late 60s, himself. It is unclear whether his father reigned for 25 or 28 years; the Chronicles say 25, officially, but then note that there is another source that claims it was 28. It goes on to skip over about three years, during which Ohine himself didn't take the throne, allowing for 28 years to have passed. That discrepancy of three years may not seem like much, but it is still curious. Realistically, though, he had his hand on the tiller of the ship of state for much longer. We see his hand in stories dated to about 513, when he is shown politicking on national issues, taking a royal princess as his wife, and being established as the heir apparent. So he is actively participating in the government, and while it does appear that the long tradition of co-rulership, which we've discussed a few times, may have died out around this period, there seems little doubt as to his influence in the court. And yet, Ohine's reign only lasted two years. He was perhaps 68 or 69 years old when he took the throne, and he would die in the following year. Despite his influence, his father's long reign had kept him off the throne for much of that time, and he was likely considered venerable even as he took the throne. He was succeeded by his maternal brother, the second eldest son of Wohodo no Ohokimi, who full name was Take-wo Hiro Kunioshi Tate. Based on his age and the dating in the Chronicles, he was only about one year younger than his older brother. So everything I said above about Ohine coming to the throne at a late age applies to Takewo as well - he would have also been through almost 7 decades by that point, so he was no spring chicken. It is unclear what Takewo's role was, growing up. He was the second son. His older brother was the heir apparent, and had his elder brother had children, no doubt those children would have been expected to inherit. However, such as not meant to be, as Magari no Ohine died childless. Here I should point out that there were other brothers, since in the stories we've seen so far there has not necessarily been an insistence on the eldest brother taking the throne. One of these brothers was the young Ame Kunioshi Hiraki Hiro Niwa no Mikoto. Born to Wohodo and his formal queen, Tashiraga, he would have been 26 at the time of Magari no Ohine's death. Young, in comparison to Takewo, but not impossibly so, and certainly old enough to have taken the throne. In fact the Chronicles treat it as a forgone conclusion, though that is likely more twenty-twenty hindsight than anything else. Besides, although his mother was queen, that appears to have been a blatantly political marriage, designed to join Wohodo's line with that of the previous sovereigns. Even Ohine had married a royal princess from the previous ruling line, and Takewo would be little different. Still, it seems likely that Takewo and Ohine were likely from the more favored line, at least at the time, and as they took the throne, had they had heirs who could follow after them those heirs would have likely been the new royal lineage. So: both Ohine and his brother came to the throne quite late in their lives, and neither would hold it for very long. That doesn't mean, though, that there aren't some important tidbits for us in their stories. As we've discussed in the last few episodes, a lot happened during Ohine's reign, particularly with the establishment of various royal granaries. His entry in the Nihon Shoki is over twice the length of Takewo's, even though the latter's reign was longer, though not by much—lasting from the twelfth month of 535 to the spring of 539—a little more than three years, all told. Still, Takewo's reign has a few notable events. First such thing is the enthronement ceremony in the twelfth month of 535, as the Ministers of the court delivered up to Takewo the regalia—the sword and the mirror. Notice that there is no mention of the jewel, and neither is their mention of the seal, which was the item given to Takewo's father, Wohodo, on *his* ascension, which we discussed back in Episode 75. This continues something of a trend, where the sword and the mirror are the truly public regalia. Then, they moved the palace, as was customary. The Chronicles say that they set it up in Ihorino, in Hinokuma. This has traditionally been identified as being in the Hinokuma district of Asuka, near Omiashi jinja. Omiashi jinja claims to be the family shrine of the Aya, one of the families that trace their lineage back to the weavers brought over from the Korean peninsula. That family, much like the current dynasty, traced their own lineage back to the time of Homuda Wake, and I wonder if there wasn't some kind of connection that would have made Hinokuma important to the sovereign and the court back in the early 6th century. It is also near the site of the ruins of Hinokuma temple, said to have been established over a century later, in 686. Temples often were their own kind of symbol, and likely spoke to some importance for this area at the time it was founded, though it is likely that was coincidental to the site's use by Takewo and his court, assuming the Chronicles can be trusted on that point. Now some of you, like me, may have picked up on the location of this palace; that is to say, Asuka. As in the Asuka period. This is the period, between the 6th and 7th centuries, when many of the sovereigns based their capitals out of this region south of Kashihara in the Nara Basin, and hence the name. We'll talk more on this periodization—as well as the various dates and what they mean—later on in the episode. For now, just know that this area, which is rich in archaeological evidence for this period, is going to be of particular importance to us—so much so that scholars have named an era after this region. After setting up the palace, we are told that Takewo appointed his ministers. Two of the names are no surprise—Ohotomo no Kanamura and Mononobe no Arakahi were still around, and had continued in positions of power. Two new names join the list, however: Soga no Iname no Sukune was made Oho-omi, and Abe no Ohomaro no Omi was made Daibu. Soga no Iname comes from the famous Soga clan. They claimed descent through none other than the famous Katsuragi no Sotsuhiko, and have popped up now and again. For more on Sotsuhiko, check out episode 47. The last mention appears to be during the reign of Wakatakiru no Ohokimi, when they mentioned Soga no Karako—which looks like it may be talking about someone born on the Korean peninsula. Given their connections to the continent and their eventual connection with Buddhism—as we'll see in later episodes they played a large role in bringing it over and popularizing it in Japan—it seems quite likely that they had ties to the Korean peninsula. Here, we see Soga no Iname being made Ohoomi, the head of the Soga no Omi family, and what appears to be a rank of prime minister, although so far the actual authority of the Oho-omi in State affairs seems a bit hit or miss. Abe no Ohomaro, on the other hand, is being made Daibu. This term is interesting—they are not making Ohomaro the head of the Abe clan, which would also be Ohoomi, one assumes, just like the Ohomuraji of the Ohotomo and Mononobe, though there are a lot of "Omi" ranked families that have been mentioned, but only a handful who have been mentioned as Oho-omi. The term "daibu" has shown up a few times in the Chronicles before, and generally just seems to refer to high ranking court officials, generally, though here it seems to be a specific court title. It would certainly be used that way, later, but it is also possible that, like Omi, it was originally just a more general term for high ranking ministers. The Abe family has shown up here and there. Much like the Mononobe, their family name appears to suggest that they were originally formed as one of the "-Be" corporate family groups, though of course they show up in the Chronicles well before that would seem to have been the case, and have been prominent enough to marry daughters off to various sovereigns, so they at least claim something of a pedigree. They would continue to be important at court, and appear to have been close allies with the Soga clan, at least in this period. There are a host of famous Abe throughout history. From the poet, Abe no Nakamaro, to the famous Onmyoji, or Yin-yang diviner, Abe no Seimei. There was a branch of Abe in the Tohoku region that regularly caused problems for later courts. And of course there is the modern political dynasty, as well, including the late Prime Minister, Abe Shinzo. However, it is somewhat difficult to know just who is actually related. The poet Nakamaro may be named for a village, rather than for his relationship to the court family. There are even different ways of spelling and pronouncing the Abe name, even in the Nihon Shoki itself. The Abe family was large enough that it would not have been difficult for someone to claim a relationship that didn't exist, particularly in some of the more chaotic times. Still, we'll try to keep track of them as best we can, at least as they interact with our narrative. In this case, that means keeping an eye on Abe no Ohomaro and his position at court. Besides affirming the ministers, there was also the appointment of a queen. Here we again see the trend to connect this dynasty with the previous, as Takewo's primary wife was none other than Tachibana no Nakatsu, a daughter of Ohoke no Ohokimi, aka Ninken Tennou. Together they had one son and three daughters, so technically it would appear that he did have an heir when he passed, but as we'll see, that isn't quite how the succession ended up working out. One of the major events of this reign seems rather substantial. That's the creation of a government house—basically an administrative center—in northern Kyushu, specifically in Nanotsu no Kuchi. Ostensibly it was to organize granaries to consolidate and distribute food as necessary. Of course, it can't be forgotten that rice was not just food, but also the basis of the economy. So granaries were just as much a place that taxes could be collected, and that would have given officials there a tidy sum, some of which was no doubt destined for Yamato, but which I imagine was also used to help grease the wheels of local government. We've seen this coming for some time. We see the military subdual of Kyushu in the old stories, and we see various people sent out to bring it to heel or otherwise administer at least the northern areas, which would have been part of the critical trade routes between Yamato and the mainland. Mononobe no Arakahi had been sent down with what we are told was a "battleax" of office to put down the Iwai Rebellion. That was about ten years ago, and we see Arakahi still in the government. Now, however, Yamato seems to be consolidating its hold over the area, instituting economic controls, beyond just the threat of military force. There are also the various areas and families that they drew upon to fund and kickstart this venture. Most of it is from the Yamato region—Mamuta, in Kawachi; Owari, near modern Nagoya; Nihinomi, likely near Ohosaka; and Iga. The families in charge of this include Aso no Kimi, who must have had some leverage in Mamuta; Soga no Iname, who held influence of the Owari no Muraji; Mononobe no Arakahi, who apparently was in charge of the Nihinomi no Muraji; and then the Abe family, who directed the Iga no Omi. Of these, I find the Aso no Kimi most intriguing, as the others are all related to the great ministers of state. Aso no Kimi feels out of place, to me. It may be a reference to Mt. Aso or similar. But I also can't help but notice that we have one Great Minister missing: Ohotomo no Kanamura, though not for long. The rest of the setup of this government house—what sounds suspiciously like the area we'll later come to know as the Dazaifu—included commandments that the local regions of the island of Kyuushuu also provide funds, which is to say rice. They consolidated reserves from Tsukushi, Hi, and Toyo, which is mostly northern Kyushu. This was all in the year 536. Whether that is when it was commanded or that is when it was setup is not quite clear to me. One suspects that it would have fallen to Mononobe no Arakahi to administer things from this new government center, if it weren't for that fact that Arakahi passed away only about a month later. It is unclear who administered this new government house immediately, but in the year following, 537, and with Silla breathing down Nimna's neck, Takewo's government assigned Ohotomo no Kanamura's sons, Iwa and Sadehiko, to assist Nimna. Iwa took charge of the government in Tsukushi, which would have been supplying any adventures on the peninsula, including raising troops and making preparations. Meanwhile his brother, Sadehiko went to Nimna and, we are told, "restored the peace" there, as well as lending aid to Yamato's ally, Baekje. This is rather vague. I don't see anything in the Samguk Sagi that clearly equates to this. In 532, the Silla Annals talk about the King of Keumgwan Kara surrendering to Silla, though Kara would continue to be a going concern for at least another sixty years or so. It is possible that this had something to do with this new expedition around 537, but it isn't clear. Takewo would pass away in 539. His kofun near Mt. Unebi, just a little ways north of his palace at Hinokuma. It is identified as one in modern Toriyacho. It is said that he was buried together with his wife, Tachibana, and one of their children, who died while still quite young. And that's where we might end things, but there are a few other points to note for this period. For one thing, this is a great time to discuss periodization in Japanese history, since some people claim that the Asuka period started during this reign—specifically referencing the date of 538. Periodization of historical eras often seems straightforward, but more often than not it is anything but. Periods may be designated for political reasons or even cultural. Political reasons may include things like a change in government, or even a change in the location of government. Certainly the Nara period, starting in 710, is based quite squarely on the foundation of Heijo-kyo, the continental style capital in modern Nara city. Likewise the Heian and Kamakura eras are often dated from the founding of the governments in those areas. However, just because the government moved does not necessarily mean that things changed overnight, or even much at all. Likewise there were smaller changes that often happened within these periods, so within the Heian and Kamakura periods, you get terms like…

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Ankan's Glass Bowl Jan 16, 2023

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This episode we look at some of the physical evidence from this period. In particular, since we are talking about the sovereign known as Ankan Tenno, we will look at a glass bowl, said to have come from his tomb, which appears to have made its way all the way from Sassanid Persia to Japan between the 5th and 6th centuries CE. Along the way we'll take a brief look at the route that such an item may have taken to travel across the Eurasian continent all the way to Japan. For more on this episode, check out https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-79 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 79: Ankan's Glass Bowl. We are currently in the early part of the 6th century. Last episode was our New Year's wrapup, but just before that we talked about the reign of Magari no Ōye, aka Ohine, aka Ankan Tennō. According to the Chronicles, he was the eldest son of Wohodo, aka Keitai Tennō, coming to the throne in 534. For all of the various Miyake, or Royal Grannaries, that he granted, his reign only lasted about two years, coming to an unfortunate end in the 12th month of 535. The Chronicles claim that Ohine was 70 years old when he died, which would seem to indicate he was born when his father, Wohodo, was only 13 years of age. That seems rather young, but not impossibly so. It is said that Ankan Tennō was buried on the hill of Takaya, in the area of Furuichi. And that is where my personal interest in him and his short reign might end, if not for a glass bowl that caught my eye in the Tokyo National Museum. Specifically, it was the Heiseikan, which is where the Tokyo National Museum hosts special exhibitions, but it also hosts a regular exhibition on Japanese archaeology. In fact, if you ever get the chance, I highly recommend checking it out. I mean, let's be honest, the Tokyo National Museum is one of my favorite places to visit when I'm in Tokyo. I think there is always something new—or at least something old that I find I'm taking a second look at. The Japanese archaeology section of the Heiseikan covers from the earliest stone tools through the Jomon, Yayoi, Kofun, and up to about the Nara period. They have originals or replicas of many items that we've talked about on the podcast, including the gold seal of King Na of Wa, the Suda Hachiman mirror, and the swords from Eta Funayama and Inariyama kofun, which mention Wakatakiru no Ōkimi, generally thought to be the sovereign known as Yuuryaku Tennō. They also have one of the large iron tate, or shields, on loan from Isonokami Shrine, and lots of bronze mirrors and various types of haniwa. Amongst this treasure trove of archaeological artifacts, one thing caught my eye from early on. It is a small, glass bowl, round in shape, impressed throughout with a series of round indentations, almost like a giant golf ball. Dark brown streaks crisscross the bowl, where it has been broken and put back together at some point in the past. According to the placard, this Juuyo Bunkazai, or Important Cultural Property, is dated to about the 6th century, was produced somewhere in West Asia, and it is said to have come from the tomb of none other than Ankan Tennō himself. This has always intrigued me. First and foremost there is the question of provenance—while there are plenty of tombs that have been opened over the years, generally speaking the tombs of the imperial family, especially those identified as belonging to reigning sovereigns, have been off limits to most archaeological investigations. So how is it that we have artifacts identified with the tomb of Ankan Tennō, if that is the case? The second question, which almost trumps the first, is just how did a glass bowl from west Asia make it all the way to Japan in the 6th century? Of course, Japan and northeast Asia in general were not strangers to glassmaking—glass beads have a long history both on the Korean peninsula and in the archipelago, including the molds used to make them. However, it is one thing to melt glass and pour it into molds, similar to working with cast bronze. These bowls, however, appear to be something different. They were definitely foreign, and, as we shall see, they had made quite the journey. So let's take a look and see if we can't answer both of these questions, and maybe learn a little bit more about the world of 6th century Japan along the way. To start with, let's look at the provenance of this glass bowl. Provenance is important—there are numerous stories of famous "finds" that turned out to be fakes, or else items planted by someone who wanted to get their name out there. Archaeology—and its close cousin, paleontology—can get extremely competitive, and if you don't believe me just look up the Bone Wars of the late 19th century. Other names that come to mind: The infamous Piltdown man, the Cardiff Giant, and someone we mentioned in one of our first episodes, Fujimura Shin'ichi, who was accused of salting digs to try to claim human habitation in Japan going back hundreds of thousands of years. This is further complicated by the fact that, in many cases, the situation behind a given find is not necessarily well documented. There are Edo period examples of Jomon pottery, or haniwa, that were found, but whose actual origins have been lost to time. Then there are things like the seal of King Na of Wa, which is said to have been discovered by a farmer, devoid of the context that would help to otherwise clear the questions that continue to surround such an object. On top of this, there are plenty of tombs that have been worn down over the ages—where wind and water have eroded the soil, leaving only the giant stone bones, or perhaps washing burial goods into nearby fields or otherwise displacing them. So what is the story with the tomb of Ankan Tennō, and this glass bowl? To answer this, let's first look at the tomb attributed to Ankan Tennō. The Nihon Shoki tells us in the 8th century that this tomb was located at Takaya, in the area of Furuichi. This claim is later repeated by the Engi Shiki in the 10th century. Theoretically, the compilers of both of these works had some idea of where this was, but in the hundreds of years since then, a lot has happened. Japan has seen numerous governments, as well as war, famine, natural disaster, and more. At one point, members of the royal household were selling off calligraphy just to pay for the upkeep of the court, and while the giant kofun no doubt continued to be prominent features for locals in the surrounding areas, the civilian and military governments of the intervening centuries had little to no budget to spare for their upkeep. Records were lost, as were many details. Towards the end of the Edo period, and into the early Meiji, a resurgence in interest in the royal, or Imperial, family and their ancient mausoleums caused people to investigate the texts and attempt to identify mausoleums for each of the sovereigns, as well as other notable figures, in the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki. Given that many of those figures are likely fictional or legendary individuals, one can see how this may be problematic. And yet, the list that eventually emerged has become the current list of kofun protected by the Imperial Household Agency as imperial mausolea. Based on what we know, today, some of these official associations seem obviously questionable. Some of them, for instance, are not even keyhole shaped tombs—for instance, some are circular, or round tombs, where the claim is often made that the other parts of the tomb were eroded or washed away. Still others engender their own controversy, such as who, exactly, is buried in Daisen-ryō, the largest kofun, claimed to be the resting place of Ōsazaki no Mikoto, aka Nintoku Tennō. Some people, however, claim that it is actually the sovereign Woasatsuma Wakugo, aka Ingyō Tennō, who is buried there, instead. What is the truth? Well, without opening up the main tomb, who is to say, and even then it is possible that any evidence may have already been lost to the acidic soils of the archipelago, which are hardly kind to organic matter. By the way, quick divergence, here—if you look up information on Daisen-ryō, aka Daisen Kofun, you may notice that there are drawings of a grave, including a coffin, associated with it. That might get you thinking, as I did at one point, that Daisen kofun had already been opened, but it turns out that was a grave on the slopes of the square end of the kofun, and not from the main, circular burial mound. Theoretically this may have been an important consort, or perhaps offspring or close relative of the main individual interred in the kofun, but most likely it is not for the person for whom the giant mound was actually erected. So, yes, Daisen kofun remains unopened, at least as far as we know. As for the kofun identified for Ankan Tennō, today that is the tomb known as Furuichi Tsukiyama Kofun, aka Takaya Tsukiyama Kofun. While the connection to Ankan Tennō may be somewhat unclear, the kofun has had its own colorful history, in a way. Now most of the reports I could find, from about '92 up to 2022, place this kofun, which is a keyhole shaped kofun, in the correct time period—about the early to mid-6th century, matching up nicely with a 534 to 535 date for the reign given to Ankan Tennō. But what is fascinating is the history around the 15th to 16th centuries. It was just after the Ounin War, in 1479, when Hatakeyama Yoshihiro decided to build a castle here, placing the honmaru, the main enclosure, around the kofun, apparently incorporating the kofun and its moats into the castle design. The castle, known as Takaya Castle, would eventually fall to Oda Nobunaga's forces in 1575, and most of the surrounding area was burned down in the fighting, bringing the kofun's life as a castle to an end. Some of the old earthworks still exist, however, and excavations in the area have helped determine the shape of the old castle, though there still have not been any fulsome excavations of the mound that I have found. This makes sense as the kofun is designated as belonging to a member of the imperial lineage. There are, however, other keyhole shaped kofun from around the early 6th century that are also found in the same area, which also could be considered royal mausolea, and would seem to fit the bill just as well as this particular tomb. In addition, there are details in the Chronicles, such as the fact that Magari no Ohine, aka Ankan Tennō, was supposedly buried with his wife and his younger sister. This is, however, contradicted by records like the 10th century Engi Shiki, where two tombs are identified, one for Ankan Tennō and one for his wife, Kasuga no Yamada, so either the Chronicles got it wrong, or there were already problems with tomb identification just two centuries later. So we still aren't entirely sure that this is Ankan Tennō's tomb. But at least we know that the glass bowl came from a 6th century kingly tomb, even if that tomb was only later identified as belonging to Ankan Tennō, right? Well, not so fast. The provenance on the bowl is a bit more tricky than that. You see, the bowl itself came to light in 1950, when a private individual in Fuse, Ōsaka invited visiting scholar Ishida Mosaku to take a look. According to his report at the time, the bowl was in a black lacquered box and wrapped in a special cloth, with a written inscription that indicated that the bowl had been donated to a temple in Furuichi named Sairin-ji. There are documents from the late Edo period indicating that various items were donated to Sairin-ji temple between the 16th to the 18th centuries, including quote-unquote "utensils" said to have been washed out of the tomb believed to be that of Ankan Tennō. Ishida Mosaku and other scholars immediately connected this glass bowl with one or more of those accounts. They were encouraged by the fact that there is a similar bowl found in the Shōsōin, an 8th century repository at Tōdai-ji temple, in Nara, which houses numerous artifacts donated on behalf of Shōmu Tennō. Despite the gulf of time between them—two hundred years between the 6th and 8th centuries—this was explained away in the same way that Han dynasty mirrors, made in about the 3rd century, continued to show up in burials for many hundreds of years afterwards, likewise passed down as familial heirlooms. Still, the method of its discovery, the paucity of direct evidence, and the lack of any direct connection with where it came from leaves us wondering—did this bowl really come from the tomb of Ankan Tennō? Even moreso, did it come from a 6th century tomb at all? Could it not have come from some other tomb? We could tie ourselves up in knots around this question, and I would note that if you look carefully at the Tokyo National Museum's own accounting of the object they do mention that it is quote-unquote "possibly" from the tomb of Ankan Tennō. What does seem clear, however, is that its manufacture was not in Japan. Indeed, however it came to our small group of islands on the northeastern edge of the Eurasian continent, it had quite the journey, because it does appear to be genuinely from the Middle East—specifically from around the time of the Sassanian or Sassanid empire, the first Iranian empire, centered on the area of modern Iran. And it isn't the only one. First off, of course, there is the 8th century bowl in the Shousoin I just mentioned, but there are also examples of broken glass found on Okinoshima, an island deep in the middle of the strait between Kyushu and the Korean peninsula, which has a long history as a sacred site, mentioned in the Nihon Shoki, and attached to the Munakata shrine in modern Fukuoka. Both Okinoshima and the Shōsōin—at least as part of the larger Nara cultural area—are on the UNESCO register of World Heritage sites, along with the Mozu-Furuichi kofun group, of which the Takaya Tsukiyama kofun is one.. Okinoshima is a literal treasure trove for archaeologists. However, its location and status have made it difficult to fully explore. The island is still an active sacred site, and so investigations are balanced with respect for local tradition. The lone occupant of the island is a Shinto priest, one of about two dozen who rotate spending 10 days out at the island, tending the sacred site. Women are still not allowed, and for centuries, one day a year they allowed up to 200 men on the island after they had purified themselves in the ocean around the island. Since then, they have also opened up to researchers, as well as military and media, at least in some instances. The island is apparently littered with offerings. Investigations have demonstrated that this island has been in use since at least the 4th century. As a sacred site, guarding the strait between Kyushu and the Korean peninsula, fishermen and sailors of all kinds would make journeys to the island and leave offerings of one kind or another, and many of them are still there: clay vessels, swords, iron ingots, bronze mirrors, and more. The island's location, which really is in the middle of the straits, and not truly convenient to any of the regular trading routes, means that it has never really been much of a strategic site, just a religious one, and one that had various religious taboos, so it hasn't undergone the centuries of farming and building that have occurred elsewhere. Offerings are scattered in various places, often scattered around or under boulders and large rocks that were perhaps seen as particularly worthy of devotion. Since researchers have been allowed in, over 80,000 treasures have been found and catalogued. Among those artifacts that have been brought back is glass, including glass from Sassanid Persia. Pieces of broken glass bowls, like the one said to have come from Ankan's tomb, as we…

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New Year's Recap 2023 Jan 01, 2023

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新年あけましておめでとうございます。 Happy New Year! This brief episode we take some time to recap the past year and look at what is cominng up in the future. In addition, we will talk a little bit about the behind the scenes. Rough Transcript Shinnen akemashite omedetou gozaimasu! Happy New Year! Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is our New Year's Recap Episode for 2023. This year we covered topics from the 5th to the 6th centuries—from the time of Woasatsuma Wakugo no Sukune, aka Ingyou Tennou, back in episode 56, all the way up to Wohodo and his son, Magari no Ohoye, aka Keitai and Ankan Tennou, in episode 78. These are the 19th through 25th and 26th sovereigns, according to the official reckoning, though as we've mentioned there are possibly a few missing—and maybe even a few added. Still, in this time, we've seen the growth of the Yamato state, as well as various changes involving their relations with those on the other side of the continent. So let's take a moment to look back at this and pull up from the individual stories to see how the larger narrative is coming along. Before we get into that, a quick note of thanks for all of our listeners out there. We appreciate you—thank you for staying with us through this journey. It is just so great to know there are others out there who are interested in all of this. Also thanks to those who've reached out with assistance or with suggestions. While not everything fits into the format or what we are currently doing, I have a list of things that I'm looking for ways to do or insert into the narrative at some point. I also thought I'd try to lift the curtain for you all a bit on the production of this little show, to help you understand a bit more about what goes into it. So first off, for those who haven't realized already, we aren't part of a major podcast network and we don't have a crew of people putting this together. For the most part it is me and my wife, both of whom have other jobs and responsibilities, doing our best to put it out there. Typically I'm looking for downtime to do the research and put a given episode together, and after I write my first draft I give it to her for a sanity check and editing. Once she's had time to go over it, I record the podcast, which isn't always smooth, and edit out as many of the mistakes as I can. Then we upload it—we are currently using Libsyn for distribution, and schedule it for release on either the first or the sixteenth of every month. Once the episode is recorded, that's usually where we start working on a blog post for the episode; I'm not sure how much people read the blogposts, vice just listen, since this is an audio medium more than anything else, but that is where I've tried to put up various names and individuals for people to follow along with what is going on, since we have so many different characters. One of the things that takes the most time is searching through and finding the images for the podcast blogs. In some cases, I pull from our own extensive library of photos taken at various times and places, and otherwise I usually am looking for images in the public domain or at least using a license that can be used on the website. Depending on the amount of time all this takes, I try to focus first and foremost on getting the audio out on a consistent and regular basis, and sometimes I have to come back to the blog post later. I am hoping to add into this the transcripts for the show, to make things more accessible, as well as adding content up on YouTube, though that requires turning things into "video" which is all doable, just time consuming, especially with 78 episodes to update. The transcripts should also allow me to add captions on YouTube, but I'm still figuring that out. And of course all of this is done as a labor of love at the moment—I still have a day job that pays the bills for hosting, new research material, etc., though Patreon and Ko-Fi donations are always appreciated. So those are the things that go into making the podcast. If you have thoughts, advice, or questions, please feel free to reach out. Now, looking at the past year, we've spent a lot of time with the family that many scholars know as the Kawachi dynasty. This is a term derived from the fact that early on they are said to have ruled from around the Naniwa area, and the giant keyhole tombs that popped up were largely in the Mozu-Furuichi tumulus group in modern Osaka, in the old land of Kawachi. This includes the largest tumuli ever built, including Daisen-ryou. Daisen-ryou is the largest kofun in Japan and about the largest mausoleum for a single person in the world—on par with tomb of the Qin Shihuangdi, the first emperor of Qin, in modern Xi'an, for sheer size. It is several stories tall, and really is like a man-made mountain. It is also surrounded by numerous other kofun. Compare this to the Great Pyramid, in Egypt. The Pyramids are taller, rising over 140 meters in the air compared to Daisen's 47 meter height, but the pyramid rises from a square base about 53,000 square meters. Daisen's mound, meanwhile, covers about 100,000 square meters, and with the moats, covers approximately 460,000 square meters in total. I finally had the opportunity to visit the Mozu tumulus group in November this past year and it really is impressive. One thing about these tombs is the manpower that was clearly required to build them. They are *massive* and it required an enormous engineering effort. Before all the trees grew up on the mound and the surrounding earthworks—not to mention all of the modern buildings—these tombs would have been clearly viewable from miles around. This ability to mobilize individuals in a single effort is one of the key factors that archaeologists look at to assess the strength of the early state in the archipelago. One other thing about these mounds, and something I'm not quite sure we addressed—recent investigations appear to indicate that most of them were built with solar and lunar considerations. While this might not be entirely obvious when looking at a map—they appear almost to be random at that point—a team out of Italy published an article in the journal, Remote Sensing, in January of this past year, 2022, that used satellite imagery to study the orientation of the major keyhole tombs in the Japanese archipelago. They determined that the orientations were not random, and that there appears to be a connection to both the sun and the moon, so that the main corridor would be illuminated by both throughout the year. Daisen Ryou is even oriented specifically to the summer solstice sunset. Of course, some of these astronomical alignments may be affected by other factors. For example, those kofun near the eastern edge of the Nara basin won't see the sunrise until it crests over the mountains, which may affect their orientation. Others may have also been influenced by things like proximity to sacred sites, like Mt. Miwa. And of course, subsidiary tombs, like the others in the Mozu Kofun group, were oriented in relation to the main tomb. None of this was done willy-nilly; there is still a lot to be considered, and it is also possible that the importance of various directions and points on the calendar changed over the centuries of kofun building and even with differences in local practice. There is still a lot of work to be done here, but it is fascinating to see continued work on this topic, including the use of modern technology, especially with the restrictions placed on modern archaeologists when it comes to excavating these kofun that remain so closely tied to the Japanese imperial family. For all that we don't know, the Mozu and Furuichi kofun groups do leave their mark on this period, which covered much of the last year. Even the Chronicles, as questionable as they may be in their narrative, describe courts at least attached to the Kawachi area, especially Naniwa, generally identified as modern Ohosaka, where the Yodo river empties into the Seto Inland Sea. The first tenno we talked about in 2022 was Woasatsuma Wakugo no Sukune, aka Ingyou Tennou—curious for the apparent use of a courtly title, Sukune, in his name. Woasatsuma was supposedly disabled, although then miraculously healed, I guess? Either way, he wasn't exactly expected to succeed his brothers, and yet he did. Woasatsuma's own death led to the kind of violent succession struggle that we've come to associate with this period. His own son, Anaho, aka Ankou Tennou, took the reins, but immediately went after the Kusaka line, supposedly because of some dastardly deeds by a rogue courtier, named Ne no Omi. After Anaho's forces killed Prince Ohokusaka, it was only later that they found out it was all just a big misunderstanding. However, that's not how Ohokusaka's son, Mayuwaka, saw it, and he, at an extremely young age, took revenge and killed Anaho. This set off yet another bout of bloodletting that saw Anaho's brother, Ohohatsuse Wakatakeru, murder his way through the royal family until he was the only surviving viable heir to the throne. The rise of Wakatakeru, aka Yuuryaku Tennou, would seem to make him out as quite the villain. The Chroniclers certainly spill plenty of ink telling his story, but in hardly the most flattering of terms. And yet, his reign is one of the lengthier and more impactful reigns. He is also the first or second sovereign who appears to be confirmed by contemporary sources. The first might be Woasatsuma Wakugo, though this is questionable – the famous mirror from the Suda Hachiman Shrine has an inscription that can be read in several different ways, but may recall his marriage in one interpretation. For Wakatakeru, however, we have at least two swords from different parts of the archipelago that mention his name. This seems to confirm that there was not only a sovereign named Wakatakeru—or possibly Wakatakiru—around the right time, but they had enough influence that their name was apparently known across the archipelago. This is also the time of the Five Kings of Wa from the Liu Song chronicles. How exactly these sovereigns line up with the Ohokimi of the Chronicles is still unclear—many assume that Bu must be Wakatakeru, since Bu and Takeru use the same character, at least in modern interpretations. A wrench in this theory is that Wakatakeru's name on the two swords, mentioned above, use characters in a phonetic, rather than meaningful, way. So it isn't entirely clear that Wakatakeru used that character during his reign. In fact, it is possible, though seemingly unlikely, that the five kings mentioned could be from another area of the Wa ethnic sphere altogether. Whosoever the Liu Song were interacting with, the discussion of the Wa and their requests give us some interesting detail about their ambitions on the peninsula and the archipelago. Clearly someone on the Wa side was gathering enough support to not only make a trip to the Liu Song capital, situated as it was on the Yangtze river, but they were apparently credibly powerful enough for the Liu Song to take them seriously. It is interesting that they were willing to also grant them titles over groups like Silla, Nimna, and Kara—titles that, arguably, the Liu Song had no authority to actually enforce, let alone grant—and yet they balked at legitimating titles over Baekje's territory. Of course they also continue to refer to the territories of Mahan and Jinhan, which may not have actually been a going concern at the time. They also differentiate between Nimna and Kara, which many later scholars would conflate into a single territory. As such, most of this just brings up more questions for the 5th century than it answers. The archipelago's relationship with the continent in the fifth century is complicated. Men of famous families are listed as having served in wars and fighting over on the continent, and there was certainly influx in the other direction, as well. There is plenty of evidence for Baekje and other groups moving to the continent and making a name of themselves. They seem to have brought with them ideas for expanding Yamato's control over the archipelago. For instance, we see the corporate -Be groups, groups created as a familial unit but geared around production of a specific good or service. Some of these, like the horse keeper's Be, and the Jewel-maker's Be, are based around particular professions, but others are groupings of peasant groups, whose agricultural output was designated for a specific function—either the support of a royal individual or the support of an institution, such as the maintenance of a royal kofun. In particular, those groups created around production of a specific good or service could be made up of individuals throughout the archipelago, who reported, it seems, to a single courtier and their family. This nominally gave the court centralized control over these production groups, and blunted the rights of local lords to make demands of them. It was a truly impressive claim, one that I am hesitant to say was fully enforceable, but which nonetheless spoke to the aspirations of the court to become a central government. An example of this was the Hata family, whose name seems to reference cloth production, something that was sought after on the continent, but who also use the character for the Qin dynasty, often claiming that they came from there, or possibly from "Jin-han" on the Korean peninsula, where a similar story claims the Qin name as the origin of that "Jin" moniker. Hata no Sake, a courtier who had an in with Wakatakeru, was placed in charge of all members of the Hata lineage—so theoretically all of those weaver families who had come over from the continent. In turn, he ensured that they turned out goods as taxes for the central court. The Hata family themselves would build a power base in the area of modern Kyouto, and a district in Kyouto still carries their name: Uzumasa, the name given to Hata no Sake and spelled out with the characters of "Great Hata", or "Ohohata". This is also the era of numerous stories, including the first instance of the story of Urashima Tarou, Japan's very own Rip Van Winkle character, although the story here is only in its infancy. Fact and fiction were still quite clearly interwoven, making it difficult to tell what was actually going on and what are just stories of a time long long ago. Love him or hate him, Wakatakeru's reign largely defines the 5th century. Before his death he placed the Ohotomo and the Mononobe in positions of great authority. Ohotomo no Muruya, and his descendant, Ohotomo no Kanamura, wielded considerable power—arguably more than the sovereigns that followed after Wakatakeru. Of those we saw Wakatakeru's son, aka Seinei Tennou, but then he was followed by two sons—and even the daughter—of Prince Ichinobe, who was, perhaps, a sovereign in his own right. Ihitoyo briefly took the throne—she is remembered as a short-lived regent, but in all honesty was likely a sovereign ruler in her own right—and then her two brothers, Woke and Ohoke—aka Kenzou and Ninken Tennou. They came to the throne through adoption, rather than birth, we are told, having gone into hiding after their father's murder at the hands of Wakatakeru. Their reigns would not be extremely long, however, and eventually the throne passed to Ohatsuse Wakasazaki, aka Buretsu Tennou, the capstone on the Kawachi dynasty, which, despite its name, had theoretically moved back to the area of modern Sakurai, in the southeast corner of the Nara basin. With Wakasazaki's death, the court, under Ohotomo no Kanamura's apparent leadership, sought out a new candidate, and they had to go pretty far afield to do it. They ev…

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