I have a confession, this ended up being quite the rabbit hole. When researching the early stages of the Sengoku Jidai, it’s almost impossible to narrow down who the “major” clans were, without also having read up on the clans who would go on to play the biggest role in the century to come.
I originally thought this’d be a one or two post sideshow, but it quickly became apparent that the sheer volume of information and my inability to focus meant that it risked spiralling out of control.
With that in mind, and with a desire to actually get back on track with the history, the last six clans are not going to get quite the same level of detail, but I can assure you, we will definitely be revisiting clan deep dives in the future.
Kyushu
Kyushu, the southernmost of Japan’s big four islands, and often a law unto itself.
The Shimazu
The mon of the Shimazu Clan
The Shimazu would prove to be one of the most enduring and influential clans in Japanese history. Originating in Satsuma Province in modern Kagoshima Prefecture, they would eventually rise to become masters of the whole of Kyushu, before running into the rise of Toyotomi Hideyoshi.
The Shimazu would also find themselves on the wrong side during the closing stages of the Sengoku Jidai, but their position in Satsuma was so far removed from the capital at Edo (modern Tokyo) that the new government had little influence.
Satsuma Domain would be one of the few that were allowed to continue international trade (through their dominance of Okinawa), and this relatively outward-looking approach meant that they would first fight, and then ally with the British during the mid-19th Century.
A 19th Century photograph of Samurai of the Satsuma Domain
Interesting side note: The Shimazu Clan’s mon, which appears to show a cross, led some scholars to speculate that they were a clan with Christian origins, and one wild theory suggesting that the Shimazu’s real origins lay with one of the Lost Tribes of Israel (this is the Japanese-Jewish origin theory, and it’s pretty racist, in a clumsy, Victorian kind of way.)
The Otomo Clan ruled lands in North-Eastern Kyushu (modern Oita and Fukuoka Prefectures) and would become one of the major beneficiaries of Portuguese Trade in Japan during the 16th Century, with many of the clan’s more powerful members even converting to Christianity, some say our of genuine faith, whilst others suggest it was more to do with keeping the Catholic Portuguese on side.
These lucrative trade links didn’t do much to protect them from their powerful neighbours. With the Shimazu to the south, and the Mori across the sea to the East, the Otomo were hemmed in by powerful rivals, and they were ultimately obliged to seek alliance with the Mori.
This proved to be the wrong course, as the Mori would be punished for picking the wrong side at the end of the Sengoku Period, and they and their allies saw their lands reduced. The Otomo wouldn’t have to suffer for long, however, as the main line of the clan would die out in 1619.
Otomo Yoshimune, the last head of the Otomo to rule any serious territory. He would die in internal exile after 1600.
The Otomo name would endure, however, as a cousin was allowed to adopt the name shortly afterwards, and during the Meiji Restoration, this branch of the Otomo was raised to the peerage, and would go on to play a role in the new Meiji government.
Northern Japan
Northern Japan during the 15th Century didn’t include Hokkaido, and was often viewed as the furthest fringes of civilisation.
Much like the Shimazu in the south, the Nanbu would prove to be one of the most enduring Clans during this period. They would rule most of what is the modern Tohoku region for close to 700 years, and by the dawn of the Sengoku Period, they were firmly entrenched in their home region, which became one of the most famous areas for the breeding of war horses, in face, the “Nanbu” Breed was one of the best regarded breeds during that era, although they would become extinct around 1940.
Unlike the Shimazu, however, the Nanbu would choose the winning side at the end of the Sengoku era, and would serve as one of the leading clans in the North during the following Edo Period.
Their illustrious position would come to an end in the 1860s, however, as their loyalty to the Shogun led them to oppose the forces of the Meiji Restoration. The Imperial forces would win the Boshin War, and the Nanbu Clan suffered a sharp decrease in property.
During the period of reconciliation after the restoration, the Nanbu would be ennobled, and the family would go on to play a significant role in the Meiji Period and beyond, remaining prominent in the Tohoku Region into the modern day.
The Date
The mon of the Date Clan
The Date (pronounced Da-Tay) were the other long-lasting clan in the north. They benefited from a position that was far enough away to make attacking them a relatively unattractive prospect. The Date were not idle, however; they were the dominant clan in the region for a reason, with strength and resources comparable to many of the clans further south.
The Date’s lands were reduced by Toyotomi Hideyoshi, but their support for Tokugawa Ieyasu meant that the clan would eventually become one of Japan’s wealthiest, controlling the Sendai Domain.
The clan would not survive the Edo Period unscathed, however. In the 1660s, the lord of the clan was arrested in the capital for drunkenness, and his rivals within the wider Date Clan took advantage, seeking his removal. This led to nearly 10 years of conflict within the Date Clan, eventually leading to a bloody showdown in 1671, which has been the subject of considerable mythologising in Japanese popular culture ever since (they love a bloody story).
The clan would endure, however, and although, like the Nanbu, they were much reduced due to their opposition to the Meiji Restoration, the head of the clan would join the ranks of the new Imperial aristocracy.
At the end of the 15th Century, the Ouchi Clan were one of the strongest in Japan. Based at Yamaguchi, in the furthest west of ‘The West’, they were in an enviable position. Their centre of power was far enough away from Kyoto that they were often spared the worst of the destruction, and the city of Yamaguchi, positioned as it was, near the coast, was a prime location for getting involved in the trade with China and Korea.
These close links to mainland Asia go back into the mists of time. Unlike many other clans, the Ouchi did not claim descent from one of the ‘Imperial’ Clans (Fujiwara, Minamoto, or Taira). Instead, they claimed as their ancestor a Korean prince, Prince Imseong, although the long years involved make a definitive link impossible to prove.
During the Nanbokucho Period, the Ouchi proved to be staunch supporters of the Northern Court and the Ashikaga Shoguns, earning them rich rewards, and by the time of the Onin War, they had extended their control into Northern Kyushu, officially on behalf of the Shogun, but effectively ruling their little empire independently.
During the Onin War, the Ouchi sided with the Yamana Clan and the Western Army. In fact, after the decline of the Yamana during the war, it was the Ouchi who stepped forward and played the leading role in securing Western military victories in the West. When the war ended, the Ouchi regained control of their former territories in northern Kyushu, and would continue to be one of the leading powers at the dawn of the 16th Century.
Their links to international trade continued during this period as well, in fact, during the mid-16th Century, they would prove to be one of the key clans in what became called “Nanban trade”, literally the “Southern Barbarian Trade”, the ‘Barbarians’ in this case, being the Portuguese, who arrived in Japan in the 1540s.
Despite their wealth and power, the Ouchi would eventually become overstretched. Facing powerful clans in Kyushu and nearer to home, they would initially see success, crushing the Shoni Clan of Kyushu in 1536, and facing the Amago Clan of Izumo Province in 1541. An initial victory over the Amago was followed by a serious defeat in which the Ouchi clan’s heir was killed.
Ouchi Yoshitaka, who oversaw the decline of his clan.
After this, the head of clan, Yoshitaka, began neglecting affairs of government, and the Ouchi would enter a period of steep decline. In 1551, Yoshitaka was killed in a rebellion, and over the next five years, the Ouchi’s once expansive domains were chipped away, as rivals took advantage of the chaos, and even formerly loyal vassals (most notably the Mori Clan) went their own way, often violently.
The Ouchi would enter terminal decline from this point. There was a brief attempt at a restoration in 1569, but it was crushed by the Mori, and the original Ouchi Clan ceased to exist. A supposed branch of the family, the Yamaguchi Clan, would survive as rulers of the Ushiku Domain, in modern Ibaraki Prefecture, but they appear to have died out in the male line in 1991.
Like the Hojo in the Kanto Region, the Mori were arguably the most successful clan based in Western Japan. Despite this, the origins of the clan are actually in Sagami Province, close to the modern city of Atsugi in Kanagawa Prefecture. From there, the clan would branch off (as they always seem to) into several different ‘Mori’ Clans, but the one we are focusing on here is the ‘Aki Mori’ Clan, which came to be based in Aki Province in what is today Hiroshima Prefecture.
During the period of the Kamakura Shogunate, the Mori clan remained largely aloof, and when the Emperor Go-Daigo overthrew the Kamakura, the Mori did not get involved. This actually worked against them as Go-Daigo adopted a “With me or against me” approach, and the Mori temporarily saw their territories forfeit.
This backfired pretty spectacularly when, just three years into the “Kenmu Restoration”, Emperor Go-Daigo himself was overthrown by the Ashikaga Family, leading to the establishment of the eponymous Shogunate, and the Mori (who had helped the Ashikaga) being restored to their lands.
Much like every other major Samurai family, the Mori broke up into several branch families that would often end up fighting each other. Their situation in the mid-15th Century was further weakened by the presence of the powerful Ouchi and Amago Clans in the region.
Through the late 15th Century, the Mori would find themselves caught between these two powers, but in the 16th Century, several savvy political marriages and a few adoptions improved their position considerably, and they would eventually rise to eclipse their former masters, the Ouchi, entirely.
Mori Motonari, the man who would lead his clan to the height of their power.
Throughout the Sengoku Period, the Mori would become the power in the West in the same way the Hojo were the power in the East. When Oda Nobunaga (him again!) drove the last Ashikaga Shogun out of Kyoto in 1576, he sought protection from the Mori, who would remain Nobunaga’s chief rivals in the West until his death (spoilers) in 1582.
The Mori would make peace with Nobunaga’s successor, Toyotomi Hideyoshi and remain a major power, eventually establishing their base at Hiroshima. However, the final battles of the Sengoku period would see the Mori choose the losing side, and they were eventually reduced to just two provinces, which became known as the Choshu Domain.
There they would remain, implacably opposed to the new government, but far enough away from the capital to be too much trouble to get rid of. During the Meiji Restoration in the 19th Century, it was Choshu, and the Mori clan, who would play a leading role in the modernisation of Japan, but that’s a story for another time.
The Mori family continued through this period and into the modern era, with the current head being Mori Motohide, who works for Hitachi Steel Works, and became the family head in 2020.
The Amago
The mon of the Amago Clan
The Amago were a branch of another clan, the Kyogoku, who were themselves descended from the Sasaki Clan, whose progenitor was a son of the Emperor Uda, who ruled in the late 9th century.
Emperor Uda, who ruled from 887-897. The Amago claimed him as their illustrious ancestor.
The Amago Clan themselves were a relative latecomer; their direct ancestor (the ‘first’ Lord Amago) was Takahisa, who took the name Amago for the area (near Kyoto) where he had his manor. In the early 15th Century, he was appointed as the deputy governor (shugo-dai) of Izumo Province (in modern Shimane Prefecture) on behalf of the Kyogoku Clan, who were obliged to reside in Kyoto.
We’ve discussed in previous posts how the Shogun’s policy of demanding that Shugo reside in Kyoto led to the rise of independently minded deputies; well, the Amago are one of them. Although officially only deputies, the Amago would take advantage of the chaos of the Onin War to consolidate their power, and by the time the war ended, they were in effective control.
When the Kyogoku line became extinct in 1514, with the death of the last lord, the Amago graduated from de facto to actual lords of Izumo, and it would be there that they based their power. The rise of the Amago was initially opposed by the Ouchi, and throughout the early 16th Century, they would engage in something of a hostile coexistence, neither side quite able to overcome the other, with the Ouchi focusing on the west, whilst the Amago had their eyes to the east.
The Amago would eventually rise to be the masters of eight provinces in the region, but in the 1540s, the rise of the Mori clan would lead to the decline of the Ouchi and directly threaten the Amago. The conflict between these clans would drag on for nearly 40 years, but the Mori would eventually prevail, with the surviving members of the Amago family serving as retainers for the Mori throughout the Edo Period.
The family itself would survive until 1940, when the last head of the clan passed away without an heir.
Unlike many of the other clans we’ve been looking at, the Akamatsu Clan were a family that peaked early, and then never really recovered. The exact origins of the clan are disputed, with some sources suggesting they descended from the Minamoto Clan, whilst others refute this, leading to some confusion.
What is not disputed is that the Akamatsu Clan originally supported the Emperor Go-Daigo during the short-lived Kenmu Restoration, earning Harima Province for their trouble, only for the province to be forfeited shortly afterwards during Go-Daigo’s controversial “Alienate everyone as quickly as possible” policy, which saw him overthrown by the Ashikaga Shogunate after just three years.
The Akamatsu, thoroughly alienated as they were, sided with the Ashikaga and had Harima Province restored to them after their victory, and the clan would be steadfast loyalists of the new Shogunate, at least for a while. The Akamatsu remained faithful, but in 1429, a serious peasant revolt in their home province badly weakened them, and not long after that, the Shogun, Yoshinori, came to the throne and proved to be an effective, but extremely paranoid ruler.
The exact reasons for the so-called Kakitsu Rebellion are unclear, but members of the Akamatsu Clan assassinated the Shogun in 1441, after which they raised an army only to be crushed by the Shogunate army shortly afterwards.
Branches of the family would survive, and after conspicuous service during the Onin War, the Akamatsu were actually restored to control of Harima Province. For a while, things were looking up. By 1488, the head of the clan, Masanori, had established control of three provinces, and there was every indication that the Akamatsu would enter the 15th century as one of the major players.
You’ve probably already guessed that that isn’t what happened, though, and you’d be right, good on you for paying attention. Masanori died suddenly in 1496, and his heir was just four years old, meaning that the clan fell into the hands of so-called ‘Elders’ who were supposed to rule until the little lord came of age.
Akamatsu Masanori, who might have held things together for his clan, if he’d lived.
This might have worked in more peaceful times, but in the early days of the Sengoku Jidai, it led to chaos. Before long, different factions of the clan were fighting each other, and the Akamatsu entered a period of steady decline. Even after the lord, Yoshimura, came of age, he couldn’t change the situation.
It got so bad that Yoshimura was first forced to abdicate in 1521 and was then assassinated shortly afterwards. His son, Harumasa, was young and easier to control, which might be why the ‘elders’ favoured him as ruler.
There was a brief resurgence in 1531, when Harumasa managed to establish his own rule, but years of infighting had effectively bled the Akamatsu dry, and in 1537, the neighbouring Amago Clan invaded and conquered the Akamatsu’s home province of Harima.
The Akamatsu would return to Harima, but they were never able to establish control of the whole province ever again, and throughout the 16th century, their power was gradually eroded away, until 1568, when they made the somewhat short-sighted decision to resist Oda Nobunaga, who promptly crushed them and took Harima for himself.
Branches of the family would survive in one form or another, but they never ruled large territories again. In the modern era, a descendant of the clan, Akamatsu Yoshinori, served in several high positions in the Imperial Navy, eventually being granted the title of Baron. His descendants are still going today, although there’s not a lot of information available online.
We’ve spent a lot of time talking about the breakdown of Shogunate power during the 15th Century. We’ve also discussed the three most powerful clans that were located closest to Kyoto during the Onin War. The Hosokawa, Yamana, and Hatakeyama Clans all played leading roles in the fighting, and in the aftermath, all three were seriously weakened.
But what about the provinces? We’ve only spoken in very broad terms about what was going on out there, mostly because, to focus on it would require posts that resemble small novels, and keeping track of all those names and places is a task that is beyond most of us.
In the interests of keeping things moving, then, I have generally neglected to go into much detail; however, since we’re now at the beginning of the Sengoku Jidai, a period of civil war lasting 120 years, we need to take a moment to look at who the main players are now that the Onin War is over.
Central Japan
Central Japan, corresponding mostly to the modern Kansai region, was the political and cultural heart of the nation.
We’ve spent a lot of time looking at this region recently, so this is just a quick overview of who is still on the field in this part of Japan.
The Hatakeyama Clan had been one of the main players, but a serious succession dispute fractured the clan and eventually led to the Onin War, as the Hosokawa and Yamana Clans supported rival claimants in a feud that would spiral out of control.
By the end of the 15th Century, the Hosokawa remained largely in control of Kyoto, but they were already in decline. They would remain powerful, but a succession dispute (yes, another one) would divide the clan in the early 16th Century, and they’d never recover.
The Yamana Clan had been badly mauled by the Onin War, and from a position as one of Japan’s mightiest clans, they’d eventually lose everything but a single province, which they’d manage to hold until the end of the 16th century, when some poor political decisions would see them forfeit even that.
The Hatakeyama, for their part, were fragmented repeatedly throughout the late 15th Century, and they’d never recover their former power. However, some descendants would hold positions of power in Kyoto until the 1580s, when they’d run afoul of Oda Nobunaga, a name you should remember.
Eastern Japan
Eastern Japan, centred on the Kanto. Although home to Tokyo today, in the 15th Century it was Kamakura that was the centre of power in the region.
The power in Eastern Japan was centred mostly around the Kanto Plain, with the political capital at Kamakura. In the period preceding the Ashikaga Shogunate, Kamakura had been the de facto capital of Japan, and even after the new Shogunate relocated to Kyoto, Kamakura remained the regional capital, and holding it was a prize in itself.
The Kanto region was the source of a lot of trouble for the Ashikaga Shoguns, as there was the legacy of the previous Shogunate to contend with, and the strong, often semi-independent Kamakura Kubo to contend with. The kubo was the head of the local government, and they often openly defied the Shogun, who had to rely on the fickle loyalty of other powerful clans in the region to enforce his will.
The dominant power in the Kanto in the 15th Century was arguably the Uesugi Clan. Like many others, the clan claimed descent from the illustrious Fujiwara Clan, and various members of the family would become shugo in and around the Kanto. Their most important role, however, was that of Kanto Kanrei, the Shogun’s deputy in the Kanto, a position that was supposed to complement that of the kubo, but in reality, often served as a check on Kamakura’s power, and frequently, a direct rival.
Like most clans at this time, the Uesugi were divided into branches, three in this case, that were just as likely to fight as support each other. This infighting predated the Onin War, but the outbreak of general civil war saw the destruction of one branch, and the serious weakening of the other two, so much so that, in the early 16th Century, the Uesugi would lose their position in the Kanto to another rising power, the Hojo.
The Uesugi would survive, however, and continue to play a major role in the Sengoku Jidai. The clan’s most famous son is arguably Uesugi Kenshin, who would engage in a rivalry with fellow warlord Takeda Shingen that became the stuff of legend. Mythology aside, Kenshin would die without heirs, and a succession crisis would severely weaken the clan.
Uesugi Kenshin became a Samurai legend, but his death would leave the Uesugi in a weak position.
Although they would survive, they chose the losing side in the final battles of the Sengoku Jidai and would end up in Yonezawa Domain, in modern Yamagata Prefecture, where they would actually prosper until the abolition of the Domains in the 19th Century.
The clan endured into the modern day. The current head is Uesugi Kuninori, who was a professor at the Institute of Space and Astronautical Science until he retired in 2006.
The Hojo
The Mon of the Hojo Clan, and the later Hojo clan, who took the name and emblem for their own. By Mukai – No machine-readable source provided. Own work assumed (based on copyright claims)., CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=9416600
The Hojo Clan, or more accurately the Go-Hojo, or Later Hojo, were relative latecomers to the scene. Although they would lay claim to illustrious ancestry (which was the style at the time), their progenitor was Ise Sozui (better known as Hojo Soun), who, despite being revered as the ancestor of the clan, never used the name Hojo himself. Traditionally, Soun was believed to have been a Ronin (masterless samurai) who rose to power seemingly out of nowhere in the aftermath of the Onin War.
More recent scholarship, however, seems to indicate that Soun’s family, the Ise Clan, had a much longer history and would serve in the Shogun’s government in Kyoto before relocating to the Kanto later.
Soun arguably deserves a post of his own, but the short version is that, he was originally in the service of the Imagawa Clan, another power in the region, before raising an army of his own and taking Izu Province for himself, establishing his base at Odawara Castle, which he took in 1494, some say, after tricking the previous owners, convincing them to leave on a hunting trip, and arranging their murders.
It was his son, Ujitsuna, who renamed the clan to Hojo. You may remember that it was the Hojo Clan who acted as regents for the Kamakura Shoguns, rising to such power that they were effectively masters of Japan, before being overthrown by the Ashikaga.
This new Hojo Clan was no relation to these regents, hence why they are referred to as the “Later” Hojo. Ujitsuna, apparently attempting to add some prestige to his family, adopted the name and mon (family crest) of the former Hojo, and everyone just went with it.
Hojo Ujitsuna, who understood that there was power in a recognisable name.
Ujitsuna wasn’t just savvy with brand recognition, however. Throughout the first half of the 16th century, he would guide the Hojo to become the predominant power in the Kanto. He would challenge and eventually drive out the Uesugi, taking control of their castle at Edo, which would eventually become the Imperial Palace in modern Tokyo.
Throughout the Sengoku Period, the Hojo would continue to be masters of the Kanto, eventually becoming one of the greatest powers in the late 16th century, before they were eventually defeated by Toyotomi Hideyoshi in 1590. A branch of the family would survive as the lord of Sayama Domain (near modern Osaka) until the 19th century, and members of this family would continue playing a role in Japanese politics into the 20th century.
The Takeda
The Mon of the Takeda
The Takeda also claimed descent from the Minamoto Clan, and from the earliest days of the Kamakura Shogunate in the 12th Century, they had established their power base in Kai Province (modern day Yamanashi Prefecture). Though they were a relatively minor player (one amongst many, you might say), the Takeda would develop a difficult relationship with the Uesugi Clan.
When the Uesugi rose up against the Kamakura Kubo in 1416 (the Zenshu Rebellion), some members of the Takeda sided with the Uesugi, whilst others remained loyal to the government. The Uesugi were eventually defeated, but there was now bad blood between the Takeda and Uesugi that would last for another 120 years.
The best known Takeda was certainly Takeda Harunobu, better known to history as Takeda Shingen. He is widely regarded as one of the best leaders of the Sengoku Period; indeed, some scholars have speculated that, had it not been for his sudden death in 1573, we might now be talking about Shingen as one of the great unifiers of Japan.
Takeda Harunobu, better known as Shingen. Arguably one of the Sengoku Period’s best leaders, his sudden death brought an end to his ambition and seriously weakened the Takeda Clan.
Alas, it wasn’t to be. Shingen was succeeded by his far less capable son, Katsuyori, who would lead the Takeda to disaster at the Battle of Nagashino in 1575, and the clan would cease to have any meaningful power after a final campaign led by Oda Nobunaga in 1582.
Much like other major clans of the era, the Takeda Clan would live on in much reduced straits, eventually becoming direct vassals of the Tokugawa Shoguns, receiving a stipend of just 500 Koku a year. For reference, a Daimyo (great lord) could only claim that rank if he controlled lands worth 10,000 Koku a year or more. The Takeda had once controlled lands that were estimated to produce 1.2 million Koku, which gives you some idea of how far they had fallen.
The Rest
There are still several other regions to cover, and many more clans, but we’ll cover them next time.
As we discussed last time, Japan in the 1460s was a chaotic place. Rival clans engaged in bloody feuds with each other, and it wasn’t uncommon for members of the same families to take up arms against each other in disputes over who was really in charge, taking sibling rivalry to a whole new level.
By this time, endemic warfare was just a part of life in Japan.
In the centre of this chaos was a Shogun who was so weak he might as well not have existed, and when the violence inevitably reached Kyoto, there was little he could do to stop it.
The exact origins of the Onin War are disputed, but the main rivals were the Yamana and Hosokawa Clans, arguably the two most powerful clans of their day, with both playing key roles in the government and having control of vast swathes of land, and the wealth, manpower, and allegiances that went along with it.
Throughout the 1450s and 60s, the Yamana and Hosokawa Clans had been engaged in something of a ‘Cold War’ in which they supported rival factions in numerous proxy wars around Japan, most importantly, the ongoing civil war within the Hatakeyama Clan.
In January 1467, Yamana supported Hatakeyama forces attacked those of the Hosokawa at the Battle of Goryo Shrine (sometimes just called the Battle of Goryo). Though the battle resulted in a Yamana victory, the intervention of the Shogun brought an end to the immediate hostilities, and both Yamana and Hosokawa partisans remained in the capital.
The marker at Kamigoryo Shrine in Kyoto, showing the spot where the Onin War broke out.
It has been speculated that both side were willing to let the Shogun mediate because neither of them was ready for all out war, because through early Spring, forces gathered in and around Kyoto, until May of that year, when it is said in some (probably exaggerated) sources that there were more than 270,000 warriors present, with the Hosokawa having a significant advantage in numbers (160,000-110,000).
Though the Yamana had secured an advantage after Goryo and controlled the Shogun, the Hosokawa did not sit idly by. Their leaders issued orders and summons of their own, and set about raiding Yamana/Shogunate supply lines, and literally burning bridges.
Due to the location of their relative bases in Kyoto, the Hosokawa and their allies became known as the Eastern Army, and the Yamana and theirs were called the Western Army, and it is by these names that we’ll refer to them going forward.
Tensions finally boiled over in late May 1467, when forces of the Eastern Army launched a dawn attack against the Western forces around the Shogun’s palace, driving them away, occupying the palace, and bringing the Shogun under their control.
A scene from later in the war, depicting just how chaotic the battlefield could be.
Shortly after this victory, Ashikaga Yoshimi (the Shogun’s brother, and still heir) was declared commander in chief, and the Shogun himself handed over an official banner to the Eastern Army, proclaiming them to be the official army of the Shogun, effectively branding the Western army rebels.
Despite their setback, the Western forces regrouped and attacked Kyoto in August, driving Yoshimi and his supporters out of the city and establishing control for themselves. It is at this point that the Western Army stopped deferring to any Shogunate officials and instead began issuing orders signed by a ‘junta’ of their most senior generals.
Further attempts by the Western army to press their advantage failed, and several battles throughout September and October ended in bloody stalemate. In December, the Emperor issued a decree stripping all Western generals of their formal Imperial titles in an attempt to further delegitimise their cause; however, it had no practical effect, and as 1467 came to an end, the Western Army was in control of Kyoto, but the war was a stalemate.
Throughout early 1468, there were sporadic outbursts of fighting in and around Kyoto, leaving large areas of the city in ruins, with the two sides gaining and losing ground in return, until the capital they had been so eagerly fighting over was no longer a prize worth having.
In the summer of that year, Yoshimi, who had been in hiding away from Kyoto, was persuaded to return to the capital by his brother, the Shogun. This reconciliation was short-lived, however, as it was becoming clear that the Shogun now supported his (still infant) son, Yoshihisa, as heir. The key leaders of the Eastern Army, too, were behind Yoshihisa, and so Yoshimi fled to Mt Hiei, where, in November, messengers arrived from the Western Army, declaring him to be the ‘new Shogun’. From then on, Western Forces began issuing formal declarations from the ‘Shogun’, Yoshimi, although in reality, the generals remained in control, and Yoshimi was effectively isolated on Mt Hiei.
By early 1469, the conflict had spread to Kyushu and the Kanto as well, where nominally Western and Eastern forces would fight it out in localised episodes of the wider conflict. In reality, however, the complete breakdown in central authority meant that these forces had no loyalty to anyone but themselves, and this fighting is often considered to be the start of the Sengoku Jidai or “Age of the Country at War.”
As 1469 dragged on, the main forces around Kyoto were exhausted. The capital was a ruin, and the Shogunate’s power, already tenuous, had ceased to exist entirely. There had been many reasons for the outbreak of war, but the main one had been control of the Shogunate; now that there was no real Shogunate to control, neither side had much motivation to continue fighting.
As Machiavelli said, though “Wars begin when you will, but they do not end when you please,” and the Eastern and Western forces were now discovering how true that was. Although superficially a conflict over the Shogunate, by 1470, factions on both sides had begun working for themselves. There were numerous internal conflicts, feuds, and defections, and by 1471, there were several clans that had switched sides, and some that had done so more than once.
In 1472, there was a serious effort to make peace, with the leaders of the Yamana and Hosokawa clans (the originators of the feud) agreeing, in principle, to return to the antebellum situation. These terms were unpopular with other factions, however, many of whom had gained significant territories as a result of the war. The head of the Yamana Clan even went so far as to attempt suicide, in a move that historians have suggested shows the extent of his desire to find a settlement, but it did no good, and the fighting dragged on.
“The affairs of the nation were being handled, the maids were planning (all the politics of the nation were being planned by Tomiko, a woman), the Shogun (Yoshimasa) was drinking sake, and the feudal lords were wearing dog hats (a reference to a kind of hat worn during mounted archery displays) . It was as if the world was at peace.”
This quote gives us the impression of a court completely out of touch with the wider world, and indeed, other sources state that Yoshimasa’s drinking was no mere social tipple; he would drink to excess, and it was said that the Emperor got into the habit of joining him, further eroding the respect and prestige of whatever government remained.
In March and May 1473, first the Yamana, then the Hosokawa Clan heads died, and a new generation took their place. Also in that year, Shogun Yoshimasa retired as Shogun, handing the title over to his nine-year-old son, Yoshihisa, whilst keeping the actual power for himself.
Peace was finally agreed between the two main protagonists in April 1473, but the war didn’t come to an immediate end; defections and skirmishing continued, and it wasn’t until 1477 that the Western Army was formally disbanded. In November of that year, the Shogunate held a formal celebration, announcing the restoration of peace.
Despite eleven years of Civil War, very little had actually been achieved. Yoshimasa had remained Shogun and handed the title to his son, Yoshihisa. The rival claimant, Yoshimi, had fled into exile but was formally pardoned in 1478, along with most of those who had supported him.
Early in the war, the Eastern forces had been granted a banner from the Shogunate, effectively declaring themselves the legitimate party, whilst their Western enemies were branded rebels. In the wake of their victory, then, you might have expected the Eastern leadership to seek ‘justice’ (or more likely, revenge) against the Westerners.
So why didn’t it happen?
The answer is fairly simple: the Eastern Army, now just the Shogunate, was too weak. Eleven years of Civil War had resulted in nothing but fatally weakening both sides, and even though they were victorious, no one amongst the Shogun’s supporters had the strength to mete out any kind of justice.
Ashikaga Yoshihisa, nominally Shogun at this point, but far too weak to actually exercise his power.
This weakness is best seen in the fact that, despite a formal peace agreement, the fighting didn’t end. Kyoto was a blackened ruin, and the formerly great clans were exhausted, but in the provinces, the war went on, and on, and on.
Though it would not be called the Sengoku Jidai until much later, the Onin War brought about a period of anarchy that would last for more than 120 years, and the Ashikaga Shoguns would never hold any real authority outside of Kyoto, despite some brief resurgences in the late 15th century.
It wasn’t just the Shogunate that was weakened; however, many of the shugo, regional lords, had committed considerable resources to the fighting, expending blood and treasure in pursuit of their goals, only to find themselves with little to show for it. In the 1480s, the system of shugo-in, the policy of requiring the lords to remain in Kyoto, formally broke down, and the shugo returned to their provinces, where some were able to restore their wealth and power, but many others became the first victims of gekokujo, (lit. lower rules/overthrows high) in which deputies of nominally lower rank were able to overthrow their masters, a phenomenon that would become common in the century ahead.
Kyoto itself was also left as a practical ruin by the end of the fighting. The expense of restoring the city and the fact that the Shogun and his wife (Tomiko) were seen as embezzling huge sums of money led to outbreaks of rebellion in the 1480s and only served to further erode what little remained of the Shogun’s authority and prestige.
The Onin War also foreshadowed several developments of the Sengoku Jidai, especially the end of the reliance on Samurai-only armies. The Samurai as a class had once monopolised war, but they were too few to man the much larger armies required in the 15th Century and later. This led to the rise of the Ashigaru, or Foot Soldiers. Originally peasant levies, the Ashigaru would evolve into something that could be recognised as professional soldiery, and they would play a key role in the wars to come, with one of their number, a man who would eventually be known as Toyotomi Hideyoshi, rising to a position of supreme power a century later.
By the mid-15th Century, Japan was in trouble. That might not come as a surprise for anyone who has read any of my previous posts (or even cast a curious eye over Japanese history to this point), but even by the admittedly tumultuous standards of Shogunate rule, things were bad.
We’ve focused a lot on the Ashikaga Shogunate and its ongoing efforts to stamp permanent authority on the country, but if we zoom out for a moment, the chaos is evident in microcosm almost everywhere we look.
There are multiple, long-term reasons for this, but here are several immediate causes: First, the Shogun’s policy of insisting that shugo (provincial lords) permanently reside in Kyoto. Whilst this kept the highest rank of the nobility under close supervision, it also meant that governance of the provinces was left in the hands of deputies, and over the years, these deputies began to operate more or less independently, and not always (if ever) in the interests of their nominal lords in Kyoto, leading to centralisation on paper, but fragmentation in reality.
Secondly, the nature of Samurai families meant that there was no clear rule of succession. Whilst a lord could be succeeded by his eldest son, in reality, when a lord died, it wasn’t uncommon for any of his relatives who could muster support to stake a claim, leading to frequent outbreaks of serious violence that sometimes lasted for years, and led to even more fragments forming.
Thirdly, the Ashikaga Shoguns themselves were weak. Since the beginning of their Shogunate, they had relied almost entirely on the support and goodwill of powerful clans. The reasons for this are fairly straightforward. In Japan, as in most feudal societies, power was derived from wealth and manpower, and those were derived from the control of land.
The Ashikaga, despite being the pre-eminent family, controlled very little land of their own, and therefore had relatively few independent resources that they could call on, meaning that, when it came to everything from collecting taxes to raising armies, they relied heavily on the powerful clans around Kyoto.
This system was always unstable, but it kind of worked when there was a strong-willed, capable Shogun at the head of things. But what happened when the seat of power was occupied by a weakling, or worse, a child?
In 1441, that question was foremost in the minds of Japan’s leaders. In June of that year, the Shogun, Ashikaga Yoshinori, was assassinated. Yoshinori has arguably become a paranoid despot by this point, but he was undeniably a leader strong enough to hold the whole system together.
Ashikaga Yoshinori, arguably a tyrant, but strong enough to keep the whole thing together.
The impact of his sudden death was compounded by the fact that he had no adult heirs. Now, as I mentioned earlier, the idea that a lord would be succeeded by his eldest wasn’t enshrined in law, but the heir, generally, was expected to at least be grown up. What remained of the Shogunate was now facing not only rebellion but a succession crisis as well.
The crisis was faced by the Kanrei, or Shogun’s Deputy, Hosokawa Mochiyuki. You might remember hearing the Hosokawa name before. They were a powerful family, and although their fortunes waxed and waned, they had remained central to the Shogun’s government.
Mochiyuki put Yoshikatsu, the previous Shogun’s son, on the throne, and for a short while, at least, the initial crisis passed. Emphasis on the short , however, within a year, first Mochiyuki, and then Yoshikatsu (at just nine years old) were dead.
Hosokawa Mochiyuki, the man who held the centre after Yoshinori’s death, but then, like so many great men, died himself not long after.
Mochiyuki was replaced as kanrei by Hatakeyama Mochikuni, a member of the Hatakeyama Clan (hence the name). The Hatakeyama had been particularly harmed by the tyrannical rule of Ashikaga Yoshinori, and Mochiyuki sought to use his position to undo some of that harm. His intention was to restore certain lands and titles that had been taken from himself and his relatives, which I suppose he thought would serve to redress the balance of power.
In this, however, he was opposed by the Hosokawa Clan, who had actually done quite well under Shogun Yoshinori and saw no reason to upset the new status quo. What followed was something of a ‘Cold War’ situation in which the Hosokawa and Hatakeyama would seek influence and advantage by engaging in politicking and proxy wars.
The most visible example of this is how they involved themselves in family disputes. As I mentioned, succession was not a clear-cut thing, and when violent disputes inevitably broke out, the Hosokawa and Hatakeyama would swoop in to offer support for either side.
From 1455 to 1460, the Hatakeyama themselves fell into civil war over who would be the next leader of the clan. The Shogun threw his support behind his favoured candidate, but it did little good.
A strong Shogun might have been able to reassert control, but Yoshimasa was not that, and Shogunate support, which might have once been a decisive factor in deciding these disputes, instead became an irrelevance.
Ashikaga Yoshimasa, another weak Shogun.
One of the more serious outbreaks was in the Kanto (again), and when the Shogun ordered the Shiba Clan to dispatch an army to put it down, the Shiba instead collapsed into chaotic infighting over who would be the next head of the clan. The Shogun attempted to impose a new clan head, but this just made things worse. The Shiba were now too embroiled in their own fighting to be much use, and the rebellion in the Kanto went on unopposed.
By late 1464, then, Japan was in serious crisis. This sense of anxiety was only worsened by the fact that, at age 29 (middle-aged by the standards of the day), Yoshimasa had no children who could serve as his heir (he had two daughters, but no one thought a woman could be Shogun). In November of that year, he solved this problem by calling his brother, Yoshimi, who was a monk, back to secular life and named him his heir.
With Yoshimi safely back in Kyoto, the question of succession was resolved for now, and the Shogunate could focus on bringing the rest of the country back under control, or so they probably thought.
In November 1465, just a year later, and to the surprise of many (though hopefully not Yoshimasa), a son and heir, Yoshihisa, was born. I’ve made this point already, but a son didn’t necessarily inherit from his father, and Yoshihisa didn’t automatically become the heir.
This is where Yoshihisa’s mother, Hino Tomiko, enters the scene. She had actually been Yoshimasa’s wife for a decade at that point, and had given birth to a son in 1459, although the child had only lived for a day. Two daughters followed in 1462 and 1463, and then in 1465, Yoshihisa arrived.
Like many historical women, Tomiko has been the victim of some seriously unflattering portrayals in contemporary sources, and what followed is possibly an example of that. The Oninki, a source for the origins of what was to come, say that Tomiko was a manipulative woman who saw in her son an opportunity to take power. She secured the support of the Yamana Clan and sought to promote her son as heir, whilst she would take control as regent until he came of age (which was expected to be a long time).
Her alliance with the Yamana and her attempts to promote her son as heir over the Shogun’s brother were, for centuries, believed to have been the spark that led to the so-called Onin War.
The problem with this is that the Oninki is literally the only source that places the blame for the war on Tomiko and her scheming. That’s not to say that she didn’t play a part, and the factions that formed in the late 1460s were certainly motivated at least nominally by support for one candidate or another, but Tomiko herself seems to have become a genuinely unpopular figure by the late 15th century (fairly or not) and so the Oninki which is usually believed to have been authored around the late 15th or early 16th centuries may have just been playing on what was, by then, a popular trope.
Outside of Kyoto, the situation continued to deteriorate. In July 1466, the Shogun attempted to intervene in the Shiba clan’s succession crisis. This time, however, he encountered serious pushback, with several powerful shugo, including the Hosokawa, refusing orders to intervene, and some even stating they would fight for the Shiba against the Shogun.
In September of that year, rumours abounded that Yoshimi (still officially the heir at this point) was going to be assassinated. Exactly how complicit the Shogun was is unclear, but Yoshimi was sufficiently scared for his life to flee to the protection of the Hosokawa.
At this point, the Hosokawa and the Yamana cooperated to protect Yoshimi and oppose the Shogun. Facing the combined might of these two clans, the Shogun had little choice but to back down. The allies went further when they demanded that the lords who were closest to the Shogun (and were publicly blamed for his decisions) be removed. Several previously powerful supporters of the Shogun were either forced to commit suicide or sent into exile, seriously weakening the ability of the Shogun to run the government, and effectively leaving him in the hands of the Hosokawa-Yamana alliance.
This alliance of convenience quickly became inconvenient, however. It goes back to the Hatakeyama Clan’s internal dispute that I mentioned earlier. The Hosokawa and Yamana supported rival factions, and when this dispute spilt over into Kyoto, a proverbial line in the sand was drawn.
The actual combatants were made up of various members of different clans, and it gets very messy, so for ease of use, we’ll just talk about the Hosokawa and Yamana factions, but just know that’s not strictly how it went. For example, there were Hatakeyama, Shiba, and numerous other clans on both sides, which gives you some idea of how chaotic it got.
At New Year 1467, the Shogun, breaking with tradition, visited the Yamana faction for the celebrations, which was about as clear a statement of support as you can imagine short of openly declaring himself. In response, Hosokawa forces surrounded the Shogun’s palace and attempted to intimidate him into issuing orders against the Yamana faction.
This attempt failed, however, and the Shogun then issued orders that private feuds should not be settled in Kyoto. The Hosokawa faction seems to have followed these orders, but the Yamana and their supporters did not. As a result, the Hosokawa faction’s allies were forced to retreat to the Kamigoryo Shrine, on the outskirts of Kyoto.
There, on the evening of January 18th, 1467, they were attacked by allies of the Yamana faction and defeated. At the time, the Shogun intervened swiftly, and there was hope that what became called the Battle of Kamigoryo Shrine would be the end of it.
Neither side was going to let it lie, however, and throughout early spring, both sides gathered more forces in and around Kyoto, and by May, they were on a collision course.
As we discussed last time, the relationship between the central government in Kyoto and the Kamakura Kubo, the regional military governor, was often quite strained. The decentralised nature of political power in Japan meant that, whilst the Kubo was nominally subordinate to the Shogun, they often acted as semi-independent rulers.
The power of the kubo was, in theory, checked by the Kanto Kanrei, the Shogun’s direct deputy in the Kanto Region, who had, for decades by this point, been a member of the Uesugi Clan.
Like most Samurai families, the Uesugi weren’t a single family, but a loose affiliation of siblings, cousins, and other relatives that shared a name and some common ancestry, but little else, with different branches of the Clan cooperating and opposing each other as the situation demanded.
The strongest branch of the family at this point, and the one holding the position of Kanrei, was the Yamanouchi Uesugi, so named because of their residence in an area of Kamakura called, you guessed it, Yamanouchi. This particular branch of the family actually took over the position from the branch which had risen in rebellion in 1416 and been defeated.
The Kanrei in the 1430s was Uesugi Norizane. He found himself in a fairly unenviable position. Although the kanrei was officially the subordinate of the Kamakura Kubo, the Shogun in Kyoto had the final say over who would actually hold the position, meaning that, in practice, the kanrei often found himself beholden to the will of the Shogun over that of his direct superior.
This was probably fine at a time when Kamakura and Kyoto were in agreement, but by now, this was definitely not the case. As we talked about briefly last time, the Kamakura Kubo, Ashikaga Mochiuji, often followed an independent path, and this defiance led to a serious breakdown in his relationship with the Shogun.
In 1429, the accession of a new Emperor called for a change in the Era name. This was (and arguably still is) a big deal in Japanese culture; whenever a new Emperor ascends the throne, the Era name is changed. It can also be changed after significant or otherwise tragic events, as those in power seek to figuratively draw a line under the past.
Emperor Go-Hanazono, whose accession brought about the Era name changed that provoked the showdown between Mochiuji and the Shogun.
A change of era is often an administrative formality for most, but this time, Mochiuji, being the independent-minded fellow that he was, apparently refused to adopt the new era name. This might seem like a petty decision to us, but it was, in effect, Mochiuji announcing to the world that he didn’t recognise the new era, and by extension, the new Emperor.
Things got worse following the death of Shogun Yoshimochi in 1431. Mochiuji had expected to be called upon to be the next Shogun, as Yoshimochi had died without heirs. When Ashikaga Yoshinori, a monk, was selected instead, Mochiuji was angry enough to consider marching on Kyoto.
This is where Uesugi Norizane rejoins our story. He dissuaded his hot-headed master, and no force was sent. In addition, he arranged for formal apologies regarding the Era change and even went so far as to return lands that had been confiscated by Mochiuji to the Shogun.
Norizane is also recorded as having sent expensive gifts to Kyoto in an attempt to smooth over the considerable animosity that had built up towards Mochiuji there. Norizane was evidently trying to steer a moderate course; he owed his position to the Shogun, but he was nominally subordinate to the Kubo. When these two masters were in opposition, Norizane found himself caught in the middle.
In 1436, his position got even worse. That year, fighting broke out in Shinano Province between rival factions seeking control of the province. One side called on Mochiuji for help, and he was eager to go, but Norizane intervened, pointing out that Shinano was not one of the provinces that were under the authority of the Kamakura Kubo. Thus, no forces were sent.
The warlord who had requested Mochiuji’s help was defeated, and in 1437, Mochiuji planned to raise an army and march into Shinano anyway, presumably to avenge his fallen comrade. This time, however, rumours spread that the army was actually to be sent against Norizane.
Things quickly got out of control after that. Although there was some attempt to negotiate, Norizane fled the Kanto entirely, retreating to the Uesugi stronghold in Echigo Province. There was a brief reconciliation in 1438, but things broke down again quickly afterwards, with Norizane resigning as kanrei.
This time, Norizane fled to Kozuke Province, and Mochiuji sent an army after him. In response, Norizane called for help from the Shogun, and Yoshinori, who had been waiting for an excuse to deal with the troublesome kubo, readily agreed.
A coalition of Kanto warlords loyal to the Shogun was assembled, and the Shogun used his influence at court to have an Imperial Banner issued to the army, effectively turning it into an Imperial army, and all those who opposed it into rebels against not only the Shogun but the Emperor himself.
An example of an Imperial Banner (this one from the 19th Century)
What impact this had on the morale of Mochiuji and his men isn’t clear, but throughout September and October 1438, their forces were repeatedly defeated, until eventually Mochiuji surrendered and attempted to become.
Uesugi Norizane, continuing his policy of moderation, pleaded for Mochiuji’s life, and for his son to be allowed to take the position of Kubo. Shogun Yoshinori, however, was in no mood. Mochiuji had been a thorn in his side for decades, and he would not pass up the opportunity to deal with him.
Mochiuji and his son were forced to commit suicide, and the position of Kamakura Kubo was temporarily abolished. That wouldn’t last long, though, and in 1440, Yoshinori attempted to have his own son appointed as the new kubo.
Mochiuji (top) commiting suicide after his failed uprising.
This didn’t sit well with former loyalists of Mochiuji, and a rebellion, led by the Yuki Clan, broke out in the same year, with the stated aim of restoring one of Mochiuji’s sons to their late father’s position.
In April 1441, the rebellion was defeated, and Mochuji’s surviving children were brought to Kyoto. Yoshinori continued his plans to appoint his son as kubo, but then fate took a turn, as it so often does.
In June 1441, Yoshinori was invited to a banquet at the residence of the Akamatsu Clan, officially to celebrate the Shogun’s recent victory. When he arrived, the gates were locked, and he was set upon by a band of armed men and cut down.
The immediate motive of his killer appears to have been either revenge for the confiscation of family property earlier in his reign or the fear of being politically purged. Historians speculate that Yoshinori was becoming increasingly paranoid, with the Imperial Nobility and Samurai class becoming fearful of the possibility of being denounced and facing exile or execution.
A phrase used by contemporaries to describe this period of Yoshinori’s reign is ‘万人恐怖’ Bannin Kyofu, or Universal Fear, which gives you a good idea of the mood.
In the immediate aftermath of the killing, rumours of a wider conspiracy abounded, but it soon became clear that the Akamatsu Clan had acted alone; the government’s attention focused on who would be the next Shogun. The most appropriate choice was Yoshinori’s son, Yoshikatsu, but he was just a boy, and it wasn’t until November 1442, 18 months after his father’s death, that Yoshikatsu was elevated to Shogun, despite being just nine.
With Yoshinori’s death and his replacement by a boy, the strong, often dictatorial power of the Shogun was significantly reduced. Yoshikatsu would rely on a council of powerful lords to handle the realm until he came of age, but that didn’t happen, as Yoshikatsu fell in and died in July 1443, only eight months into his reign. His sudden death led to the spread of several rumours, from a fall from a horse to assassination, but historians generally believe he died of illness, possibly dysentery.
Yoshikatsu was replaced by his brother, Yoshimasa, who was even younger, and he wouldn’t be officially declared Shogun until 1449, by which time real power had shifted from the Shogunate to several powerful clans.
Though no one knew it then, the Ashikaga Shogunate had begun what would prove to be a terminal decline.
At the end of the last post, we covered an outbreak of rebellion led by the Uesugi Clan in the Kanto Region. This rebellion was put down, and the Uesugi were badly mauled, but the consequences of it would be long-reaching indeed.
We haven’t spent a lot of time talking about the Kanto recently; most of the events of the preceding Nanbokucho Period happened in and around Kyoto, so this seems like a good opportunity to update you on what was happening in the area, which is now mostly modern Tokyo and its surroundings.
You may remember that the government, prior to the Ashikaga Shogunate, had been the Kamakura Shogunate, based in the town of the same name. Kamakura itself is in the Kanto and was, at the time, a major population centre.
When the Kamakura Shogunate was overthrown, the Ashikaga based themselves in Kyoto, but didn’t lose sight of their position in the Kanto. With power in Kyoto confirmed, the first Ashikaga Shogun, Takauji, sent his second son to Kamakura to oversee things there.
The position of Kamakura Kubo was initially a solely military post, with the mission being to keep order in the provinces. However, within a few decades, it had transformed into a political and administrative position as well, with the kubo being the effective governor of a large area of eastern Japan.
The other major power in the region was the Kanto Kanrei, the Shogunate Deputy in the Kanto region. Originally an administrative position, subject to appointment and dismissal by the Shogun, by the late 14th Century, the position had become the hereditary title of the Uesugi Clan, who used it to become the dominant power in the region.
Officially, the Kubo was a military position, whilst Kanrei was an administrative one, but the reality was that there was considerable overlap between both positions. The Kanrei was supposed to be subordinate to the Kubo, but the situation on the ground meant that the Kanrei often controlled more land and men than the Kubo.
There were several clashes between both positions, and the government in Kyoto, but one of the most serious was the Uesugi Rebellion in 1416, which we talked about last time. Although the rebellion was crushed, the situation in the Kanto remained tense in the aftermath.
Firstly, the Kubo at the time was Ashikaga Mochiuji, who had an unfortunate habit of ignoring instructions from Kyoto that didn’t suit him. In the aftermath of the rebellion, the Shogun, Yoshimochi, had wanted to pursue a policy of reconciliation, similar to that of his father.
Mochiuji, however, wanted revenge; he saw the powerful clans in the Kanto as a direct threat to his rule and was determined to crush them once and for all. He began taking direct action against families that had joined the rebellion, and despite issuing orders for him to stop, the government in Kyoto proved powerless to curb his violent tendencies.
Yoshimochi wasn’t idle, however. Although the position of Kamakura Kubo was a powerful one, and Mochiuji had many supporters, there were others who remained opposed to him. Yoshimochi took advantage of this, extending direct vassalage to several important families in the Kanto region and elsewhere. Though these families technically owed allegiance to Kamakura, they were now direct vassals of the Shogun.
Though this policy may have seemed like a good idea at the time, it would backfire. In 1422, the Oguri Clan, with the implied support of the Shogun, rose in rebellion against Kamakura and Mochiuji. Whether or not the Oguri expected support from Kyoto, it didn’t come, and Mochiuji personally led the army that put the rebels down.
In response, the Shogun gave serious consideration to military action, but it was eventually decided to do nothing but demand a formal apology from Mochiuji, which he quickly agreed to, bringing an end to the immediate crisis.
Things jump ahead a little bit here. In 1423, Shogun Yoshimochi retired and officially handed over the title (but not the power) of Shogun to his son, Yoshikazu. This arrangement didn’t last long; Yoshikazu died within two years (apparently from alcohol-related issues).
The position of Shogun was then left vacant, but since Yoshimochi held the actual power, the government kept going regardless. This changed in 1428, when Yoshimochi himself died, seriously impeding his ability to run the state.
Yoshimochi had no more sons, so a new Shogun was sought from amongst his brothers. Apparently, they did this by a lottery, and the name drawn was Yoshinori. The problem with that was that Yoshinori (who was also called Yoshinobu for a time) had become a monk during his youth.
Ashikaga Yoshinori, an unlikely choice for Shogun.
There was plenty of precedent for important officials to retire and become monks, but there was none for it happening the other way. At first, the selection of Yoshinori was opposed; he was a monk, for starters, and there were rumours that Mochiuji, the Kamakura Kubo, would be declared Shogun instead.
Several tense months followed, including the death of one Emperor and the accession of another. It was this new Emperor, Go-Hanazono, who would name Yoshinori Shogun in March 1429. Yoshinori seems to have tried to model himself on his father, the great Yoshimitsu. He attempted to centralise power in Kyoto and curb the influence of powerful local deputies (Kanrei), and he even restarted the trade with China.
However, Yoshinori was not Yoshimitsu, and the situation for the Shogunate was not as it had been 30 years earlier. Yoshinori would have some success initially, bringing restive lords in Kyushu back in line, and moving to end the Shogun’s reliance on the military strength of the Shugo (governors) as his predecessors had been forced to.
Trouble was never very far away, however, and in 1433, ongoing conflicts between rival temples in and around Kyoto flared up again. Now, Yoshinori had been a monk of the Tendai Sect, specifically at the Shoren-in Temple.
Now, the intricacies of temple politics in this era are complex to say the least, but the short version is that there were various sects of Buddhism prominent in Japan at this time. These sects were then often further subdivided, and, in keeping with the style of the time, these factions would often engage in vicious and sometimes violent rivalries with each other.
At this time, one of the most violent disputes was between the Jimon (Temple Gate) and Sanmon (Mountain Gate) branches of the Enryaku-ji Temple on Mt Hiei, near Kyoto. Yes, you read that right, they were rivals from the same temple complex.
In July 1433, the monks of the Sanmon Faction submitted a petition of 12 complaints to the Shogun, making allegations of misconduct against the Shogunate officials in charge of religious affairs.
The Shogun took a conciliatory approach to this, accepted the petition and then apparently dismissed the officials in question. The Sanmon Monks, apparently getting a bit full of themselves, celebrated by burning down Onjo-ji (sometimes known as Mii-Dera), the headquarters of the Jimon Faction.
Now, the Shogun was understandably annoyed by this. Apparently, the monks of Onjo-ji had refused to join the Sanmon Faction’s petition, but that wasn’t a good enough excuse, and Yoshinori dispatched troops to Mt Hiei, demanding that the monks of Enryaku-ji surrender.
This they did, but the peace didn’t last long. Within a few months, rumours began spreading that the Monks were conspiring with Ashikaga Mochiuji, apparently trying to curse the Shogun, and general praying for his downfall, which in a superstitious age was a big deal.
In response, the Shogun confiscated property belonging to the temple and sent troops to surround the temple, effectively putting Enryaku-ji under siege. From July to December 1434, no one could get in or out of Mt Hiei, and the monks were eventually compelled to seek terms of surrender.
Shogun Yoshinori was in a far less forgiving mood this time, and he was initially reluctant to accept terms. However, under pressure from his own government, he accepted the surrender, and the previously confiscated property was returned.
This was apparently just a ruse, however, and in February 1435, Yoshinori had four Enryaku-ji monks arrested and beheaded. The monks on Mt Hiei were outraged by this and set fire to their own temple, with 24 of them meeting their ends (more or less willingly) in the flames.
Mt Hiei is easily visible from Kyoto, and the sight of the temple in flames caused outrage in the city. Yoshinori responded by issuing an edict sentencing anyone who complained about the situation to death, which apparently worked wonders in keeping the population quiet.
With the Sanmon Faction subjugated, Yoshinori then turned his eyes back to the Kanto. All he needed was a pretext, and luckily for him, one would not be long in coming.
By the end of the 14th Century, the Ashikaga Shogunate might have been forgiven for thinking it was in a strong position. Under Shogun Yoshimitsu, Kyushu had been pacified, the power of the mighty clans close to the capital had been curtailed, and in 1392, a reconciliation had been arranged between the Northern and Southern Imperial Courts, bringing an end to the Nanbokucho Period.
In 1395, Yoshimitsu officially retired from the Shogunate to become a monk, and although he retained actual power, the succession of his son, Yoshimochi, was secure. Then, in 1399, the Ouchi Clan rose in rebellion in Kyushu, and in crushing them, the Ashikaga Shoguns no longer faced any serious opposition in the South or West of the realm.
Around this time, Yoshimitsu sought recognition as “King of Japan” from the Ming Emperor of China, as he had long been an admirer of Chinese culture and politics. Initially, the Chinese refused to recognise him, because, as Shogun, Yoshimitsu was (technically) a servant of the Emperor, whom the Chinese were more inclined to recognise as King.
When Yoshimitsu retired as Shogun, however, he retained all the power of his position, but was now free of his position as a subordinate of the Emperor. This, combined with a promise to suppress the often serious problem of piracy (wako) in the waters around Korea, persuaded the Chinese to formally recognise Yoshimitsu as “King” and restart trade between Japan and China, in exchange for regular Japanese tribute as ‘subordinates’ to the Ming.
This trade was not as we might imagine it, where merchants buy and sell according to the laws of supply and demand. Instead, as the Chinese viewed themselves as the centre of the world, they viewed trade as being based on tribute to their Emperor, with gifts being bestowed in return.
The Yongle Emperor, who all were expected to bow to, especially if they wanted to trade with China.
This worldview, combined with the Chinese desire to show off their wealth, meant that Japanese trade missions would often end up with such quantities of goods that they were able to secure enormous profits. One example comes from the merchant, Kusuba Sainin, who claimed that thread purchased for 250 mon in China could easily be sold for 5000 mon back in Japan.
(The mon is a Japanese unit of currency that wasn’t very well formalised before the Edo Period, making modern purchasing power hard to figure out, but the fact that this represents around 2000% profit gives you an idea of how lucrative this trade could be.)
These ships were only sent relatively infrequently; in fact, between 1404 and 1547, only 17 trade missions (made up of 84 ships in total) were sent, but the influx of Chinese material and cultural goods, and the Shogunate’s 10% levy on all goods arriving in Japan, meant that it was a major source of revenue and prestige.
The trade was politically unpopular, however. The Chinese required tribute and acknowledgement of China’s supreme position in the world. Though Yoshimitsu likely viewed this as a diplomatic nicety rather than an actual submission, it didn’t sit right with the prideful Samurai or the Imperial Court, who held that their Emperor was a literal son of heaven, whereas the Chinese Emperor held a mandate that could be lost.
While Yoshimitsu was alive and politically active, these concerns were largely kept private, but the discontent remained, and Yoshimitsu, it may surprise you to learn, wasn’t going to live forever.
While he lived, however, Yoshimitsu invested this newfound wealth and power in what became known as Kitayama Culture. A unique blend of Imperial, Samurai, and Chinese aesthetics, it gave birth to many famous aspects of Japanese culture that are still recognisable, such as Noh Theatre and even Origami (which began as a much more formalised system than what we may be used to today).
Like many before and after him, Yoshimitsu also invested heavily in architecture, aiming to promote the glory and prestige of his family through buildings that were more spectacular than any that came before. Most famously, the Golden Pavilion Temple, Kinkaku-ji, a landmark so famous that the actual name for the temple, the pavilion, is in (Rokuon-ji), is often forgotten.
As we discussed last time, Yoshimitsu had an unusually close relationship with the Imperial Court, taking up several positions in the Imperial Government, and running things in such a way that it often became unclear exactly when Imperial orders weren’t simply Shogunate ones.
This came to something of a logical conclusion in 1404 when Yoshimitsu began lobbying for the position of Retired Emperor. You may recall that, in the days before the Shoguns, Emperors would retire to become insei, or Cloistered Emperors, retaining all the actual power, whilst no longer being constrained by the often burdensome nature of an Emperor’s religious responsibilities.
In the midst of this politicking, in April 1408, Yoshimitsu became ill, dying at the age of 51 in May of the same year. A few days after his passing, the Imperial Court offered to bestow the title of Retired Emperor on him posthumously; however, the new Shogun, Yoshimochi, declined. It has been speculated that this was agreed to previously, as a way to definitely end the Shogunate’s pretensions to the title.
Either way, Yoshimitsu was dead, and things began to unravel quite quickly. Though Yoshimochi had been named Shogun in 1394, when his father had ‘retired’, his actual accession to the title didn’t go unchallenged. Some suggested that Yoshimitsu had actually preferred his younger son for the role, but had died before updating his will.
Because of this, the Shogun’s Deputy (kanrei), Shiba Yoshimasa (of the once powerful, and now resurgent Shiba Clan), pushed to have Yoshimochi recognised as Shogun, and in the short term, a crisis was avoided.
Shiba Yoshimasa had been a powerful figure in the Shogunate for decades, and he had a huge influence over the new Shogun. However, by the time Yoshimochi actually gained power, Yoshimasa was an old man, and in August 1409, he handed the position of Kanrei over to his grandson. The fact that he was a boy of 11 was apparently not a problem, given that Yoshimasa intended to keep real power anyway.
Whether or not he meant to groom his grandson for the role is unclear, because less than a year later, Yoshimasa was dead and the power of the Shiba Clan at the centre of government was at an end.
Ashikaga Yoshimochi, the Fourth Shogun, and very much not his father’s son.
Unfortunately for the Ashikaga, Yoshimochi turned out not to be his father’s son. No longer under Yoshimasa’s influence, he ended the Chinese trade in 1411 (it would be reinstated later), and in 1415, he faced a serious uprising from loyalists of the former Southern Court, showing that that particular problem had not been resolved.
More seriously, in 1416, a major rebellion broke out in the Kanto Region, when the locally powerful Uesugi Clan rose up against the Kamakura Kubo, the semi-autonomous military governor in the region.
Now, this is a bit complex, so pay attention. The Kamakura Kubo had, since the formation of the Ashikaga Shogunate, been in the hands of a branch of the Ashikaga Family, descended from one of the sons of the first Ashikaga Shogun, Takauji. Therefore, as with a lot of Japanese history it was possible to have Ashikaga on both sides of any conflict, going forwards I’ll make sure to be clear which branch of the family I’m talking about, but it’s a bit of headache.
Confused genealogy aside, the Kubo was, much like their cousins in Kyoto, surrounded by Samurai Clans who were often stronger than the local government. In the Kanto, the most powerful family was the aforementioned Uesugi, and they’d been a real thorn in the side of the Kamakura Ashikaga from the start.
The Uesugi had often held the title of Kanto Kanrei, which is basically the Shogun’s Deputy in the Kanto Region, in which Kamakura lies. Unsurprisingly, the Kamakura Ashikaga and the Uesugi spent most of their time butting heads, and in 1415, a particularly serious disagreement led to the Uesugi being stripped of the kanrei position.
You can probably guess what happened next. The Uesugi refused to accept that, and one thing led to another until in late 1416, they rose in rebellion, taking Kamakura in October. Confused reports reached Kyoto later in the month, some of which suggested that the Kamakura Kubo, Mochiuji, was already dead.
When it became clear that he was, in fact, alive, the Shogun dispatched an army made up of loyal clans to the Kanto to put the rebellion down. This they did, and the Uesugi forces were decisively defeated at the Battle of Seyahara in January 1417, after which their power was severely curtailed.
In the aftermath, Shogun Yoshimochi accused his brother, Yoshitsugu (who had been that potential rival to the throne we mentioned earlier), of being complicit in, or even behind the rebellion. Yoshitsugu pleaded his innocence (as you do), but, fearing for his life, fled the capital and became a monk.
Ashikaga Yoshitsugu, who was accused of plotting rebellion by his brother, and killed in 1418.
That didn’t save him, and in 1418, he either committed suicide or was murdered on his brother’s orders. The man accused of his assassination was later denounced for apparently having an affair with one of the Shogun’s concubines and killed himself, which is just one of those salacious side stories that make studying history such a joy.
The seeds of more trouble in the Kanto were sown when Mochiuji pursued a policy of revenge against those who had rebelled, despite the Shogun’s official desire for reconciliation. Direct conflict would be a while in coming, but the increasingly defiant Kanto Lords could not be ignored forever.
The Nanbokucho Period is named the Northern and Southern Courts Period in English because that is what it was. The division of the rival Imperial Courts was reflected across Japan during this period. There were few, if any, periods of extended peace, and rival factions would swear allegiance to one court or another, and then use that as an excuse to attack their local rivals.
In many cases, of course, these rival warlords didn’t even bother with the formality of declaring allegiances; they settled their disputes through force because they could. They had the men, and there was no central government strong enough to stop them.
That began to change with the third Ashikaga Shogun, Yoshimitsu. As we talked about last time, he was no idle ruler, nor was he simply the first amongst equals when it came to the brutish thuggery of this early Samurai period. Yoshimitsu played rival clans off each other to increase the military power and prestige of the Shogunate, but he also ingratiated himself with Imperial loyalists by taking a position in the government of the Northern Court, so much so that it began to appear that the Emperor’s orders, and those of the Shogun were one and the same.
Yoshimitsu wasn’t just a political animal, though; he understood the nature of the conflicts around Japan came from the largely independent nature of the Shugo (regional lords), in which even fairly loyal Clans were left to handle their own affairs. Yoshimitsu’s solution to this was an enforced residence policy.
Basically, the Shugo lords were required to live in Kyoto (with the exception of those based in the Kanto and on Kyushu). Once there, they were forbidden from leaving the capital without the (rarely granted) permission of the Shogun. Leaving Kyoto without this permission was seen as an act of rebellion, and, having seen what had befallen the Yamana and Toki Clans, most Shugo fell in line.
The Flower Palace in Kyoto. Although the residence of the Shogun, it is an example of the new level of opulence that came to Kyoto with the enforced residence of the Shugo.
In the short term, this went a long way to curbing their often violent independence, but long-term, it proved to be a disastrous policy. Whilst the first generation of lords to take residence in Kyoto left trusted relatives in charge, within a few decades, their descendants had become the real power in the provinces. Much like the Imperial Court in the 8th and 9th centuries, the Shugo grew to become out of touch with the nominally subordinate provincial officials, once again leading to a catastrophic decentralisation of power, and laying the foundations for what would eventually become the Sengoku Jidai, the Age of the Country at War.
With this policy also came a shift in the economic and cultural centre of gravity in Japan. With the majority of the wealthiest Shugo now required to live permanently in Kyoto, the wealth that had previously been dispersed in the provinces now became centred on the capital.
During previous eras, wealth had primarily been derived from land, but under Yoshimitsu, a new urban middle class formed from the moneylenders, traders, and other commercial agents that benefited directly from the sudden influx of wealthy, image-conscious nobles in their midst.
Throughout the late 14th century, Kyoto flourished as a centre of wealth and culture, with some modern icons of Japanese culture, such as Renga Poetry and Noh Theatre, emerging during this time.
A modern performance of Noh Theatre, which originated during this period in Kyoto. By Yoshiyuki Ito – Imported from 500px (archived version) by the Archive Team. (detail page), CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=71346350
It was, however, also a period where ‘traditional’ social norms were challenged. The Samurai, who had emerged primarily as a rural class, were a rough and ready sort, fond of extravagant living, flashy clothes, and frequent outbursts of violence.
This lifestyle, often called Basara in contemporary sources, was at odds with the more formal, rigid, and genteel lifestyle of the ‘old’ families in and around Kyoto, who associated art and culture with the more traditional styles of the Imperial Court.
Whilst the Shogun was relatively strong and capable (as Yoshimitsu was), these tensions could be managed, but the seeds of further trouble were already being sown, even as the Shogun appeared to be bringing an end to the chaos.
The Meitoku Treaty
Throughout the late 1380s and into the 1390s, Shogun Yoshimitsu either provoked or took advantage of chaos in several powerful clans, asserting his power and weakening any serious support for the Southern Court. In 1392, after having decisively broken the power of the Yamana Clan, he turned his attention to the Southern Court and its remaining allies.
Northern Forces attacked Chihaya Castle in early 1392, and after it fell, the Southern Court was effectively defenceless. At this point, however, Yoshimitsu took on the role of peacemaker; instead of attacking the Southern Court, he opened negotiations.
The Southern Court, for their part, seem to have seen the writing on the wall, and faced with a peaceful outcome or the prospect of annihilation, they chose peace. In November 1392, Emperor Go-Kameyama (Southern Court) travelled to Kyoto and handed over the three Imperial Treasures to Emperor Go-Komatsu (Northern Court).
In exchange, it was agreed that, going forward, the line of the Northern Emperors and the Southern Emperors would alternate on the throne, with Go-Komatsu (Northern) being succeeded by a Southern Emperor, and so on.
Emperor Go-Komatsu, who wasn’t happy about the Meitoku Treaty, but also didn’t have much of a choice.
As a side note, the Northern Court were apparently strongly opposed to the treaty, as they considered themselves the only legitimate line and didn’t wish to alternate with the ‘illegitimate’ Southern Line. It is perhaps a testament to just how powerful the Shogunate had become then, when the treaty was agreed to, with both sides evidently being mutually dissatisfied, but compelled to agree due to the overwhelming strength of the Shogun.
So, peace came to Japan at last. A strong Shogun, a cowed Imperial Court, and a capital that had become a wealthy, bustling centre of commerce, art, and culture. All was right in the world, except, of course, it wasn’t.
Yoshimitsu was an impressive leader, and through his personal drive, energy, and acumen, he ensured that everything went the Shogunate’s way. Bringing an end to the Nanbokucho Period was no mean feat, and we shouldn’t understate it, but unfortunately for Japan, Yoshimitsu, like most people, was mortal.
Yoshimitsu would retired in 1394, but he kept hold of the real power.
Though Yoshimitsu would formally retire as Shogun and become a monk in 1394, he continued to hold onto real power until his death in 1408, after which things began to unravel pretty quickly.
By the 1380s, the Northern and Southern Court Period (Nanbokucho Jidai in Japanese) had been dragging on for nearly 50 years. This was a period of frequent conflict, and the instability had only served to weaken the power of the central government in Kyoto.
In 1368, Ashikaga Yoshimitsu became the third Ashikaga Shogun. As he was still a minor at the time, the government was initially in the hands of his Kanrei (Deputy) Hosokawa Yoriyuki, whom we talked about last time.
Ashikaga Yoshimitsu, the third Ashikaga Shogun. This image is from after he became a monk in later life.
In 1378, Yoshimitsu assumed power in his own right. He also moved the official Shogunate residence to the Hana-no-Gosho, or Flower Palace, in the Muromachi area of Kyoto. Because of this, the Ashikaga Shogunate is sometimes called the Muromachi Shogunate, though we’ll keep calling them Ashikaga for now, to avoid any more confusion.
When Yoriyuki was forced to resign by his enemies during the Koryaku Coup, he was replaced by Shiba Yoshimasa, and the wider Shiba Clan saw their fortunes improve further still as Yoshimasa moved to fill several government positions with his family and retainers.
If you imagine that the Koryaku Coup was a matter of the Shiba Clan replacing the Hosokawa, then you’d be wrong. In fact, after 1379 (the year of the coup), the power of the Shogunate increased considerably, with the centralisation of government put in place by Yoriyuki falling not into the hands of the Shiba, but the Shogun himself.
Some historians have speculated that Yoshimitsu actually worked to engineer the conflict between the Hosokawa and Shiba Clans, playing both factions off each other in order to increase his own power. Whilst there are no clear records of any such plan, Yoshimitsu took advantage of the chaos to ensure that no one clan would be in a position to challenge him again.
The Flower Palace in Kyoto. Yoshimitsu paid close attention to the image of the Shogunate.
Imperial Politics
During the 1380s, Yoshimitsu worked to tighten the bonds between the Shogunate and the Imperial Northern Court, whilst ensuring that one was clearly superior to the other.
The exact relationship between the Imperial and Shogunate government at this time is a bit complicated, but officially, the Shogun served as the Supreme Military commander nominally at the Emperor’s service.
In reality, of course, the Shogun was a military dictator, ruling the nation in all but name, but formally the Emperor ruled, while the Shogun merely served. To get around this legal technicality, Shoguns were often granted formal rank in the Imperial hierarchy and would often take up positions in the ‘Imperial’ government, further cementing their legitimacy.
We won’t go into the exact nature of the Imperial hierarchy, but in short, there were nine ranks, with the top three being divided further divided into Senior and Junior levels, whilst ranks four to nine (also called ‘initial rank’) were further divided into four levels (Upper Senior, Lower Senior, Upper Junior, and Lower Junior) for a total of thirty ranks.
By the 14th Century, Imperial Rank no longer granted very much in the way of actual political power, but it was a mark of prestige, and continues to be so today, although the ranks were reorganised during the 19th Century Meiji Restoration.
Yoshimitsu was not the first, or last, Shogun to take on Imperial Rank and title, but he did so at a time when the formalities of the Imperial Throne were more important than they would eventually become. By 1382, he had been granted Junior First Rank and took the position of Minister of the Left, effectively Prime Minister.
In his position as Minister of the Left, he began using the Imperial bureaucracy to issue orders and instructions, effectively turning Shogunate orders into Imperial ones, increasing their weight considerably, and obliging many troublesome lords to fall in line. It was one thing to oppose the Shogun, but another entirely to go against the Son of Heaven.
Controlling the Imperial Government relied on harnessing the reflected prestige of the Emperor’s Divine heritage, but being Shogun was, and remained, a primarily military position. Whilst Imperial decrees brought a lot of minor lords into line, there were still several powerful clans in Japan who would not bow to anything other than force.
Yoshimitsu the Warrior
Fortunately for the Shogunate, Yoshimitsu proved himself adept at playing this role too. You may remember that the Koryaku Coup in 1379 had been led by three clans, the Shiba, Toki, and Yamana; however, it is the Toki and Yamana Clans who are important for this next bit.
By the late 1380s, the Toki Clan ruled three provinces, whilst the Yamana (through various family members) controlled eleven. These power blocs were far too strong for the Shogun to take on directly; however, in 1388, the head of the Toki Clan died. Instead of allowing the heir, Yasuyuki, to inherit all three provinces (Mino, Ise, and Owari), the Shogun declared he’d only get two (Mino and Ise), whilst the third (Owari) would go to his brother, Mitsutada.
It should come as little surprise that Yasuyuki and Mitsutada, despite being brothers, didn’t get along, and it wasn’t long before Mitsutada, who by all accounts was an ambitious sort, began plotting against his brother. Although the details are a bit murky, forces loyal to Yasuyuki attacked Mitsutada and forced him to flee to safety in Kyoto.
This act of near fratricide was exactly what the Shogun wanted. Mitsutada had been appointed as Shugo (military governor) of Owari Province, and Yasuyuki had committed an act of rebellion in throwing him out.
Shogun Yoshimitsu declared Yasuyuki a traitor and ordered loyal forces (led by other members of the Toki Clan, which just highlights how complex family relations were amongst Samurai) to bring him to justice. Yasuyuki was defeated by this coalition, and in the aftermath, the Toki Clan were deprived of Ise Province, whilst the family was split into two branches, one ruling Owari, the other Mino.
Yasuyuki would survive this episode and would actually return to favour under the Shogunate less than a year later during the Meitoku Rebellion (which we’ll talk about in a minute). Yasuyuki would regain control of Ise Province in 1391, whilst his treacherous brother, Mitsutada, would be deprived of Owari in the same year, apparently due to cowardice and mismanagement.
This whole episode shows that Shogun Yoshimitsu understood the nature of power politics in this period. Rather than destroy the Toki Clan outright, he weakened just enough to remove them as a threat to the Shogunate, but not so much that they could no longer govern what remained of their territories effectively.
After dealing with the Toki, Yoshimitsu turned his attention to the Yamana. As we discussed earlier, at this point, the Yamana Clan controlled eleven provinces in Eastern Japan. However, it should be noted that, much like the Toki, the Yamana Clan were not a single, united family. Instead, there were four brothers who were apparently united in name only.
Good Policy, or Good Fortune?
Yoshimitsu took advantage of this and pitted the brothers against each other. Some historians claim this was a deliberate policy of the Shogun, whilst others counter that strife within the Yamana family was nothing new, and Yoshimitsu simply grasped an opportunity.
Throughout 1391, Yoshimitsu had strengthened his position, defeating the Yamana Clan and dismissing his Shiba Kanrei, replacing him with Hosokawa Yoritomo, son of Hosokawa Yoriyuki, who had been overthrown during the Koryaku Coup back in 1379.
This is often cited as evidence that Yoshimitsu was moving against all three clans. He had engineered the downfall of the Toki, removed Shiba members of his government, and gone out of his way to take advantage of the Yamana’s division, whilst attempting to provoke them into doing something rash.
In November 1391, one of the Yamana brothers, Mitsuyuki, seized Yokota Manor in Kyoto. The exact circumstances aren’t clear. It is certain that Mitsuyuki took control of the Manor, but it’s not clear if his doing so was actually illegal. The Manor had been an Imperial property, but had come into the hands of the Yamana Family some years earlier; therefore, it’s possible that Mitsuyuki believed he was simply claiming a property that belonged to his family.
The Shogun and Northern Imperial Court didn’t agree, however. They argued that the property was owned by the head of the Yamana Clan, not Mitsuyuki himself. It is possible that Mitsuyuki was genuinely mistaken, but he had violated the peace, and so the Shogunate confiscated his province (Izumo) as a result.
Now, if you’ve been paying any kind of attention so far (and I hope you have) then you’re probably aware that Samurai aren’t the type to take this sort of thing on the chin, and Mitsuyuki began agitating amongst his relatives, claiming that the Shogun was planning to do to the Yamana what he had done to the Toki, which, to be fair, was probably true.
Having successfully raised an army, Mitsuyuki and the Yamana marched on Kyoto, where they were met by Shogunate forces led by Yoshimitsu himself. Outnumbered 2-1, the Yamana were defeated, their leaders were killed, captured, or put to flight, and the so-called ‘Meitoku Rebellion’ was brought to a swift conclusion.
Mitsuyuki himself would escape, and there would be further uprisings of Yamana loyalists until his capture and execution in 1395, but for all intents and purposes, the Yamana were broken. In the direct aftermath of their rebellion, they were reduced from eleven provinces to just three, and although the Yamana Clan would survive, they could no longer challenge the Shogun.
There would be a similar rebellion in 1399, when the next powerful clan, the Ouchi, would have to be dealt with, but their conflict with the Shogun ended much the same as the other two, with defeat, a reduction in land, but the overall survival of the clan.
Ashikaga Yoshimitsu could arguably be considered the best of the Ashikaga Shoguns, but his most enduring legacy is not found on the battlefield, but in dynastic politics, which we’ll talk about next time.
Chris Perry, Author 