Chris Perry, Author

Tag: Imperial court Japan

The Honnoji Incident – Oda Nobunaga. Part Four.

“The enemy is at Honnoji” – Akechi Mitsuhide

By 1582, Oda Nobunaga was the most powerful man in the realm; in fact, it could be argued that he was the most powerful man Japan had seen in centuries. A combination of ruthless political manoeuvring and brutal military campaigns had left him on the verge of finally reuniting the nation and ending the Sengoku Jidai.

Only the Mori Clan still had the strength to stifle Nobunaga’s ambitions, and in May 1582, he announced his intention to march against them with all his might. The catalyst for this next campaign was a message from Hashiba Hideyoshi, who was besieging Takamatsu Castle (in modern-day Okayama). The message read that Mori Terumoto was marching to relieve the siege, presenting Nobunaga with an opportunity to meet the Mori in open battle and crush them.

A scene from the Battle of Takamatsu Castle. Hideyoshi attempted to end the siege by flooding the castle, a tactic that was ultimately unsuccessful.

It is generally accepted by historians that Nobunaga intended not only to defeat the Mori but also subjugate Shikoku and, eventually, Kyushu as well, viewing the campaign against the Mori as part of a wider strategy to bring the entire nation under his command. In preparation for this, he dispatched several generals to support Hideyoshi, most notably Akechi Mitsuhide.

In the days that followed, Nobunaga was seen to be in good spirits and laid on lavish entertainment for those who came to visit him, including Tokugawa Ieyasu, who departed Azuchi on June 21st, embarking on a tour of Kyoto, Osaka, and the surrounding region. On the same day, Nobunaga’s son and heir, Nobutada, arrived in Kyoto for reasons that aren’t entirely clear (some speculate he meant to accompany Ieyasu). Whatever his purpose, his arrival in the capital meant that when Nobunaga himself departed Azuchi for Kyoto on June 29th, father and son would be in the same place, at the same time.

Azuchi Castle, Nobunaga’s base, as it appeared around 1582.

Exactly why Nobunaga went to Kyoto first is debated, with some suggesting he planned to attack Shikoku first, going via Kyoto and the port at Sakai (modern Osaka). Other sources say he went to deal with negotiations at the Imperial Court, and others still suggest he wanted to show off a new tea set he had recently acquired. (This may sound a touch comical to a modern audience, but the tea ceremony was a serious matter in Japan at the time.)

On June 30th, Nobunaga held said tea ceremony, which was followed by a drinking party, during which Nobunaga’s son, Nobutada, arrived, and father and son drank and talked together, little knowing that it would be their last meeting. Sources tell us that the party ended late, and Nobutada returned to his accommodation at nearby Myokakuji Temple, and Nobunaga retired for the night shortly afterwards.

Oda Nobutada, Nobunaga’s son and heir.

Though Honnoji was a temple, as the primary residence of Nobunaga in Kyoto, it wasn’t undefended. Excavations in 2007 found evidence of a moat and some earthworks, suggesting that the site had been partially fortified, though it was far from a fortress, and Nobunaga was protected by only a few dozen servants and his personal entourage.

Nobunaga clearly didn’t expect to be attacked, and why should he have? He was the most powerful man in the realm, in the heart of the capital city, with hundreds of thousands of warriors at his command. His enemies were far away, and even in the unlikely event that the army under Hideyoshi was defeated, he could call on other, just as formidable forces.

Honnoji as it appears today. The current temple is located at a different site from that in 1582; after being rebuilt by Hideyoshi in 1592, it was destroyed by fire in 1788 and 1864, and then underwent further renovation in 1928.
_{^{＋－ – 投稿者自身による著作物, CC 表示-継承 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=107655314による}}

One of these was a force of around 13,000 men under Akechi Mitsuhide. In the afternoon of June 30th, Mitsuhide claimed to have received a message from Nobunaga, instructing him to bring his force to Kyoto for review. The letter, if it existed at all, was certainly a forgery, but by that evening, Mitsuhide had arrived at Kameyama (modern Kameoka), north of Kyoto. By the next morning, they had reached the Katsura River, and at this point, it is unclear if Mitsuhide’s army understood their objective.

Sources from men serving in this force suggest they believed that they were going to attack Tokugawa Ieyasu, nominally on the orders of Nobunaga himself. This is supported by the semi-contemporary “History of Japan”, written by the Jesuit, Luis Frois, which suggests that Mitsuhide’s army believed they were acting under Nobunaga’s secret order, at least initially.

Akechi Mitsuhide, the man behind the Honnoji Incident.

At this point, Mitsuhide is supposed to have uttered the famous phrase “The Enemy is a Honnoji” announcing his rebellious intention (as everyone knew that was Nobunaga’s base.) Unfortunately, as dramatic as that scene might have been, the first source for it doesn’t appear until 1641, nearly 60 years after the event, and there are no contemporary sources that tell us what Mitsuhide might or might not have said.

What we know is that by dawn, Mitsuhides forces had surrounded Honnoji. What followed was a bloody, but ultimately one-sided fight. All sides agree that Nobunaga and his pages fought bravely, but they were hopelessly outnumbered, and the fighting was over by around 8am. We don’t know exactly how Nobunaga died, but the sources agree that he fought with a bow, and then a spear, before suffering some kind of injury (the sources differ) and retreating into the already burning Honnoji, where he presumably committed seppuku.

A 19th-century depiction of Nobunaga’s last stand. Though we don’t know exactly how he died, sources agree he fought bravely until an injury forced him to retreat.

Nobunaga’s son, Nobutada, had, upon hearing that Honnoji was under attack, rushed to help, only to be overwhelmed and forced back to his own accommodations at Myokakuji Temple, where he too was forced to commit seppuku as the temple burned around him, his body consumed by the flames.

Rumours of their survival sprang up almost immediately. Since neither body was ever identified (this being before DNA or dental records), Mitsuhide could not prove the deed was done, and any hope he had of securing support went up in the same smoke that Nobunaga and his son had.

Another 19th-century depiction of Nobunaga’s end. Though heavily stylised, it displays the flames that would ultimately consume Nobunaga’s body.

Whatever his actual motivation (which we’ll look at in a moment), Mitsuhide’s triumph would be short-lived. Though his forces had successfully killed Nobunaga, his son, Nobutada, and most of his inner circle, and secured Kyoto, the same forces that Nobunaga might have called on to defend him were now focused on avenging him.

Mitsuhide swiftly withdrew to Azuchi Castle, from where he tried to rally support, and wrote to the Imperial Court, seeking to legitimise his position. There are no records of any response, and he soon ran out of time. Hashiba Hideyoshi had made peace with the Mori (who were apparently initially unaware of Nobunaga’s death) and was now marching against him.

The site of the Battle of Yamazaki as it appears today, seen from Mt Tenno, from which the battle is sometimes called The Battle of Tennozan.

Mitsuhide was outnumbered two or three to one, and at the Battle of Yamazaki on July 12th, he was decisively defeated. Although losses were similar on both sides (about 3000), Mitsuhide’s army suffered from serious morale problems and disintegrated as the battle went against them, leaving Mitsuhide with just 700 warriors at day’s end.

Mitsuhide himself survived the battle, but he was either killed in the aftermath (possibly by bandits or opportunistic peasants) or else committed suicide due to injuries sustained on the battlefield. Whatever his end, he was definitely dead by the time his head was displayed outside the burned remains of Honnoji Temple, on or around July 17th.

Akechi Mitsuhide’s grave at Saikyoji Temple in Kyoto.

No sooner was Mitsuhide dead than questions were raised about why he had betrayed his lord. Though Samurai overthrowing their overlords was nothing new, Nobunaga was uncommonly powerful, and his death threatened to unravel the fragile peace he had secured, especially in light of Mitushide’s failure to secure support or legitimacy in its aftermath.

Contemporary scholars and modern historians continue to debate exactly why Mitsuhide betrayed Nobunaga. He was certainly mistreated and often humiliated, sometimes even being publicly beaten by Nobunaga himself, so simple revenge is a possible motive. Other sources suggest it was to avenge his mother, who had served as a hostage to secure a truce years earlier, only for Nobunaga to break it, resulting in the poor woman being executed.

Mitsuhide’s mother hangs from a tree in consequence of Nobunaga breaking the truce that her life was the guarantee of.

If public humiliation and the death of his mother weren’t reason enough, some suggest it was pure ambition; Mitsuhide may simply have wanted the power for himself, and he certainly wouldn’t have been the first to try it. Indeed, some historians speculate that if he had been able to prove that Nobunaga was actually dead, he might have gained some support, and the outcome could have been different.

Others suggest that Mitsuhide was a partisan of the Shogun, or possibly the Imperial Court, and overthrew Nobunaga in order to restore one or the other to power, though these ideas only emerged in the 20th century, and there’s little contemporary information to go on.

Nobunaga publicly beats Mitsuhide. Quite why Nobunaga treated him so poorly isn’t clear, but the humiliation almost certainly contributed to his decision to rebel.

There’s also the speculation that Mitsuhide was working with one of Nobunaga’s other vassals. Some historians argue that Hashiba Hideyoshi was able to turn his army against Mitsuhide very quickly, leading to speculation that he knew the attack was coming. Historians have never conclusively dismissed this, though it has been pointed out that only the fastest of Hideyoshi’s troops actually made it to the Battle of Yamazaki, meaning that the quick turnaround might not have been that quick after all.

Other theories blame the Imperial Court, or the Mori Clan, for conspiring against a man who had proven to be an existential threat, as well as the Buddhist Clergy, who had plenty of reason to want vengeance on Nobunaga.

A contemporary depiction of Mass. Though largely dismissed by historians, the possibility that the Jesuits feared Nobunaga would turn on them contributed to the theory that they were involved in his death.

Another possibility is the Jesuits, who are suggested to have feared that Nobunaga might move against them, though there’s little evidence that he intended to (as he valued foreign trade), and Hideyoshi, his ultimate successor, would prove to be a far greater threat to Christianity in Japan.

Ultimately, most of this speculation comes from later sources, and there’s no way to know what Mitsuhide intended, only that his plans fell apart before being decisively ended on the battlefield at Yamazaki.

Hashiba (later Toyotomi) Hideyoshi. His victory at Yamazaki did not make him Nobunaga’s successor, but it did wonders for his prestige.

Hashiba Hideyoshi’s victory did not mean he inherited Nobunaga’s power, however, and the power struggle that followed threatened to undo the Great Lord’s work, but that’s a story for another time.

Sources
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E7%B9%94%E7%94%B0%E4%BF%A1%E9%95%B7
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E6%9C%AC%E8%83%BD%E5%AF%BA%E3%81%AE%E5%A4%89
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E6%95%B5%E3%81%AF%E6%9C%AC%E8%83%BD%E5%AF%BA%E3%81%AB%E3%81%82%E3%82%8A
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E6%A1%82%E5%B7%9D_(%E6%B7%80%E5%B7%9D%E6%B0%B4%E7%B3%BB)
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E4%BA%80%E5%B2%A1%E5%B8%82
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E5%82%99%E4%B8%AD%E9%AB%98%E6%9D%BE%E5%9F%8E%E3%81%AE%E6%88%A6%E3%81%84
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Honn%C5%8D-ji_Incident
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Akechi_Mitsuhide
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E5%B1%B1%E5%B4%8E%E3%81%AE%E6%88%A6%E3%81%84
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E7%B9%94%E7%94%B0%E4%BF%A1%E5%BF%A0

If you are interested, the main source for this and the other posts on Oda Nobunaga is the 2011 translation of the Chronicle of Nobunaga, the Kindle version of which can be found here.

February 6, 2026
The First Unifier – Oda Nobunaga. Part Three.

By 1573, Oda Nobunaga was arguably the strongest warlord of his day, controlling a large territory that dominated central Japan. He had taken control of Kyoto and brought about the end of the Ashikaga Shogunate (though he would never take the title for himself), and with the death of Takeda Shingen, his most dangerous rival had been removed.

Nobunaga’s position is red. Dominant, but not yet unchallenged.
_{^{By Alvin Lee – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=39200929}}

You probably know by now that even a strong position was never completely unchallenged during the Sengoku Jidai, and Nobunaga still had enemies to deal with. In the summer of 1573, he launched a campaign against the Azai-Asakura alliance, whom he had defeated at the Battle of Anegawa in 1570 and now meant to finish off.

Nobunaga’s forces laid siege to the formidable Odani Castle. When Azai-Asakura forces marched to relieve it, they were ambushed and forced to retreat to Ichijodani Castle with Nobunaga in hot pursuit. The Azai-Asakura were then decisively defeated at the Battle of Tonezaka and tried to retreat again; however, a series of defeats, betrayals, and suicides put an end to the alliance and then to the clans themselves.

A modern reconstruction of the castle down around Ichijodani.
_{^{663highland – 投稿者自身による著作物, CC 表示 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=12059706による}}

A side note to these events is the end of the marriage between Nobunaga’s sister, Oichi, and Azai Nagamasa, lord of the Azai Clan. When Nagamasa betrayed Nobunaga, Oichi remained faithful and was by his side as Odani Castle came under siege. Some sources say that Oichi gave birth to her third daughter during the siege (though others disagree). There is also debate over how she escaped, with some saying she was aided by a loyal retainer, and others stating that Nobunaga and Nagamasa agreed to let Oichi and her daughters go, a tale often romanticised as demonstrating the love both men had for her.

Romantic stories aside, with the end of the Azai-Asakura threat, Nobunaga turned his attention to the peasant rebellion in Ise Province (the so-called Nagashima Ikko-Ikki), which had resulted in the death of his younger brother, Nobuoki. The campaign was successful at first, with several outlying forts being taken, but an attempt to secure the rebels’ main fortress at Nagashima failed, and Nobunaga was obliged to fall back after an ambush threatened to cut him off.

A 19th-century depiction of the fighting in Nagashima.

The year would end on a more positive note for him, however, as Ashikaga Yoshiaki, who was still claiming the title of Shogun, was forced to flee Wakae Castle (in modern Osaka) and retreat to Kii Province. In December, Nobunaga’s forces captured the important and wealthy Tamonyama Castle (modern Nara), further securing his territory in central Japan.

1574 would bring new problems, starting with another peasant rebellion (the Echizen Ikko-Ikki) in territory that Nobunaga had only recently taken from the Azai-Asakura. Shortly after that, a renewed attack by the Takeda, now led by Shingen’s son, Katsuyori, invaded Mino Province. Nobunaga marched to meet them, but the border castles fell before he could arrive, and so he withdrew, avoiding a decisive clash with the Takeda for now.

Takeda Katsuyori

With crises in all directions, Nobunaga was stretched to his limit, but it was in moments like this where he showed his brilliance and his brutality. The Ikko-Ikki fortress at Nagashima had been a thorn in his side for years, and he set out to remove it in the summer of 1574, surrounding the fortress from land and sea and starving the defenders into surrender by September.

It is said that some attempted to flee by boat, but Nobunaga stopped them with a volley of gunfire. Suitably provoked, the Ikko-Ikki launched a counterattack that ultimately failed, but killed Nobunaga’s half-brother. In response, Nobunaga had the remaining 20,000 defenders, including women and children, locked up inside the castle, which he then ordered burned.

A memorial to those who were killed during the fall of Nagashima.
_{^{立花左近 – 投稿者自身による著作物, CC 表示-継承 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=20094400による}}

With Nagashima subdued, Nobunaga turned his attention to the Takeda, who had launched a series of relatively small-scale invasions throughout 1574, and by April 1575, were besieging the Tokugawa-controlled fortress at Nagashino. What followed was one of the most heavily mythologised battles of the era, and even today, many of the details are open to debate, but what is not in doubt is that the Battle of Nagashino inflicted a mortal wound on the Takeda. They never again posed a serious strategic threat to Nobunaga’s ambitions.

One of his other long-term enemies was the Temple of Hongan-ji, the spiritual centre of the widespread Ikko-Ikki movement. The movement had been severely weakened by the loss of Nagashima, and in late Summer 1575, Nobunaga crushed the Echizen Ikko-Ikki, further weakening Hongan-ji’s power. This turn of events allowed Nobunaga to establish a short-lived peace in the territory he controlled.

Emperor Ogimachi (r 1557-1586) was Emperor for most of Nobunaga’s rise to power.

In November 1575, Nobunaga was appointed Dainagon, and Ukone no Taisho, Chief Councillor, and General of the Right, respectively, positions in the Imperial court which established his position, and right to rule the country (in the Emperor’s name, of course) Around this time Nobunaga also began distributing territory and other titles to his followers on behalf of the Emperor, and it is from this point that historians generally agree that Nobunaga gave up the pretence of supporting the Ashikaga, and began eyeing the position for himself. In light of this, he officially recognised his son, Nobutada, as his heir and gave orders for the construction of a new fortress at Azuchi.

It couldn’t last, however, and in Spring 1576 Ishiyama Hongan-ji was in arms against him again, supported by a loose coalition of powerful clans, and at least nominally acting on behalf of the exiled Shogun, Yoshiaki. Initial attempts by Oda forces to subdue Hongan-ji failed, but when Nobunaga himself arrived, he won a decisive victory at the Battle of Tennoji, and subsequently laid siege to the vast Ishiyama temple complex.

This modern recreation shows that the Ishiyama Hongan-ji complex was more akin to a fortified town than a temple.

Nobunaga might have hoped to repeat his success at Nagashima, but those hopes were to be dashed when a fleet from the Mori Clan destroyed the Oda blockade at the Battle of Kizugawaguchi in August 1576, ensuring that, for the time being, supplies would continue to flow into Ishiyama, and the siege would drag on.

Meanwhile, in 1577, Nobunaga led an army into Kii Province and forced the surrender of the Saika Clan before withdrawing, only to then have to face a rebellion from the Matsunaga Clan in Ise Province, which was put down in characteristically brutal fashion, with the castle burned, and its occupants forced to commit Seppuku.

This image depicts Matsunaga Hisahide at the moment of his death. The story goes that Nobunaga offered to spare him in exchange for a rare tea kettle. In response, Hisahide is supposed to have smashed the kettle to pieces before killing himself.

From 1578 to 1580, Nobunaga was forced to contend with the powerful Mori Clan and their allies for control of Harima Province. Meanwhile, his vassal, Akechi Mitsuhide, successfully subdued the provinces of Tamba and Tango. In late 1580, Nobunaga forced the surrender of Arioka and Miki Castles, bringing the whole of Harima under his control.

Meanwhile, the Second Battle of Kizugawaguchi in December 1578 reversed the strategic situation in the seas around Ishiyama (Osaka Bay), when the rebuilt Oda navy inflicted a decisive defeat on the Mori fleet, finally cutting Ishiyama off completely. The siege would last until 1580, however, and it would eventually take an Imperial Order to convince the leadership to surrender, in exchange for being allowed to leave.

A semi-contemporary image of Ishiyama Hongan-ji during the siege.

War was never far away, but as 1581 dawned, Nobunaga was stronger than any Daimyo had ever been, and it was seriously possible that if anyone were to bring an end to the Sengoku Jidai and reunite the country, it would be him. However, he still had a few more rivals to overcome first.

The Battle of Nagashino had been a death blow to the Takeda, but as late as 1582, they were still clinging on, and now Nobunaga made the decision to end them once and for all. Gathering a force of some 100,000 and supported by his ally Tokugawa Ieyasu, Nobunaga invaded Takeda territory in early 1582. The campaign was almost too easy, as Takeda resistance crumbled almost immediately, forts often surrendered without a fight, or after only a token display of defiance, and many former Takeda retainers simply switched sides, or else ran away from the advancing Oda.

A heavily stylised (and much later) depiction of the end of Takeda Katsuyori, whose death would signal the end of his clan.

The Takeda eventually stood their ground at the formidable Takato Castle, but, despite its reputation, it was taken quickly, and what remained of the Takeda began to melt away. Eventually, Takeda Katsuyori and his son Nobukatsu were trapped at Tano (modern Tsuru, Yamanashi Prefecture) and forced to commit Seppuku, bringing an end to the Takeda line and any hope of resistance to Nobunaga.

With the Takeda gone, Nobunaga took some time to reorganise the newly conquered territories, and then headed home through the lands of his ally Tokugawa Ieyasu, who laid on entertainments, refreshments, and accommodation, all purpose-built for Nobunaga’s visit.

A reconstruction of Nobunaga’s ‘throne’ at Azuchi.
_{^{日本語版ウィキペディアのMaakunさん – 原版の投稿者自身による著作物, CC 表示-継承 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=115518317による}}

By Spring, Nobunaga was back at his base at Azuchi, from where he made plans to invite the Emperor for a formal visit, and rumours began that the court was about to appoint him Shogun, or else some other senior position. The exact nature of this appointment and Nobunaga’s receptiveness to it are unclear, as the sources don’t agree on whether anything was offered at all, let alone what Nobunaga said about it. The Imperial visit was supposedly arranged for the following year, but again, the sources are scant.

During this brief period of peace, Nobunaga is supposed to have announced his plans to conquer Shikoku from the Chosokabe. One of his retainers, Akechi Mitsuhide, was apparently unhappy about this, as he had previously acted as an intermediary between Nobunaga and the Chosokabe. Mitsuhide was further agrieved when Nobunaga ordered him to provide entertainment for the visiting Tokugawa Ieyasu. The story goes that Nobunaga accused Mitsuhide of doing a poor job (rightly or not) and launched into a public dressing-down of Mitsuhide that ended (according to some sources) with a literal kick in the backside.

A 19th-century imagining of Nobunaga publicly chastising Mitsuhide.

Given the importance of public image in Japan, it is easy to see why Mitsuhide might have felt a genuine grievance over this treatment. There is also a story that Mitsuhide’s mother had once served as a hostage for a truce that Nobunaga had gone on to break, resulting in the poor woman’s death. Whilst some of these stories are poorly sourced at best, what is known is that by the summer of 1582, Akechi Mitsuhide had had enough.

Sources
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E7%B9%94%E7%94%B0%E4%BF%A1%E9%95%B7
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tsuru,_Yamanashi
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E9%AB%98%E9%81%A0%E5%9F%8E
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E7%94%B2%E5%B7%9E%E5%BE%81%E4%BC%90
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E4%B8%89%E6%9C%A8%E5%90%88%E6%88%A6
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E4%BF%A1%E8%B2%B4%E5%B1%B1%E5%9F%8E
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E7%B4%80%E5%B7%9E%E5%BE%81%E4%BC%90
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E5%A4%A9%E7%8E%8B%E5%AF%BA%E3%81%AE%E6%88%A6%E3%81%84_(1576%E5%B9%B4)
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E7%9F%B3%E5%B1%B1%E5%90%88%E6%88%A6
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E7%AC%AC%E4%B8%80%E6%AC%A1%E6%9C%A8%E6%B4%A5%E5%B7%9D%E5%8F%A3%E3%81%AE%E6%88%A6%E3%81%84
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E7%AC%AC%E4%BA%8C%E6%AC%A1%E6%9C%A8%E6%B4%A5%E5%B7%9D%E5%8F%A3%E3%81%AE%E6%88%A6%E3%81%84
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E9%95%B7%E5%B3%B6%E4%B8%80%E5%90%91%E4%B8%80%E6%8F%86

January 30, 2026
Heian IV – The Fujiwara & The beginning of the end.

The formation of the Heian Court was not the story of one family (the Imperial family) asserting its dominance over everyone else. Instead, the Court was made up of several clans, who rose and fell according to the vagaries of fate. You may recall that when the Yamato brought the idea of “Emperor” over from China, they switched the concept of a Mandate of Heaven with that of a literal Son of Heaven. This had the double effect of meaning that the Emperor’s rule was now divinely ordained (handy), and he couldn’t be overthrown and replaced by a new dynasty, as happened relatively frequently in China.

Since the noble families couldn’t take the throne itself, it was controlling the man (or woman) sitting on it that became their objective. There were usually several powerful families at a time, and their rivalries often turned violent, with plots, counter-plots, rebellions, coups, and assassinations all part of the early Imperial political landscape.

By the mid-7th Century, the dominant family were the Soga. Their path to power was fairly typical of the time. Daughters of the clan were married to sons of the Imperial family, and more than one Emperor had a Soga mother. Through these close family ties, the Soga Clan rose to an almost insurmountable position of influence, but it didn’t last.

In 645, during the Isshi Incident, the head of the Soga Clan was quite literally cut off. One of the conspirators was Nakatomi no Kamatari, a close friend of Prince Naka no Oe, who would eventually become Emperor Tenji.

Kamatari would use his close relationship with the future Emperor to amass enormous wealth and influence, and shortly before he died, the newly enthroned Tenji bestowed a new family name on him, Fujiwara, and thus, one of the most influential families in Japanese history got its name.

Fujiwara no Kamatari, the founder of the Fujiwara Clan.

The Fujiwara

The exact origins of the Fujiwara Clan are unclear, but they were originally known as the Nakatomi and claimed descent from the God Ame-no-Koyane, giving them divine origins, although, importantly, of a lesser rank than the Imperial Line.

The Nakatomi appear to have been largely responsible for religious ceremonies in the early Yamato Court, but after the Isshi Incident, the renamed Fujiwara gradually adopted the same position that the Soga had before them.

It was the second head of the clan, Fuhito, who really laid the groundwork for Fujiwara dominance, though. Already the scion of a prominent house, he made one daughter the consort of Emperor Monmu and the other the consort of the next Emperor, Shomu. And no, you’re not imagining it; that second daughter would have been Emperor Shomu’s half-aunt. I guess it was ok because both women had different mothers? Maybe?

Consanguinity notwithstanding, Empress Komyo, as she became known later, was significant; not only was she Fujiwara, but she was the first Empress who was not an offspring of the Imperial house.

Fuhito would further expand his family’s dominance by having four sons, who would go on to each head a cadet branch of the Fujiwara. When we speak of the “Fujiwara”, we’re actually going to be talking about these four houses. To keep things simple, I’ll just refer to them as “Fujiwara” unless it’s important to make the distinction, but for reference, the four cadet branches were:

The Kyoke Fujiwara (Capital Fujiwara)
The Shikike Fujiwara (Ceremonial Fujiwara)
The Hokke Fujiwara (Northern Fujiwara)
The Nanke Fujiwara (Southern Fujiwara)

These four houses would work together, and sometimes in opposition to each other, and the Northern and Southern Fujiwara would eventually split into even more Noble Houses that would continue to influence Japanese politics into the modern era, but more on that later.

With their power secured by sometimes incestuous marriage, the Fujiwara moved into position to dominate the throne. By the end of the 10th Century, Fujiwara control of the position of regent had become effectively hereditary, and through other advantageous marriages, Fujiwara influence was felt in the provinces too, with lower-ranking members of the main families taking up positions as administrators and local governors (that will become really important later.)

The Fujiwara wouldn’t have it all their own way. There were several rival families, the most powerful being the Taira and Minamoto, both descended from sons and grandsons of Emperors, and who will get their own post later. There was also the issue of relatively strong Emperors. Political control of the throne depended on controlling the man sitting on it. Some Emperors, like Daigo, who reigned from 897 to 930, proved to be more than a match for the Fujiwara and retained significant control for themselves.

Despite this, Daigo had Fujiwara consorts, and the clan itself would retain its positions at court. When Daigo died in 930, it wasn’t long before things were back to normal, as far as the Fujiwara and their dominance at court was concerned.

In 986, Emperor Kazan was pressured by Fujiwara no Kaneie into abdicating under somewhat dubious circumstances. The story goes that Kaneie convinced Kazan to become a monk alongside his son Fujiwara no Michikane. However, when Kazan entered the temple, Michikane said he would like to visit his family one more time before taking the tonsure. Kazan agreed and became a monk while he waited, but Michikane never came back, which is a ballsy move.

Fujiwara dominance reached its peak in the late 10th and early 11th century under Fujiwara no Michinaga. Michinaga was the third son of Fujiwara no Kaneie, who was succeeded by his son, Michitaka, and then his second son, Michikane, who was regent for only a week before dying; maybe karma for that stunt with former Emperor Kazan?

A later illustration of Fujiwara no Michinaga.

Michikane’s son, Korechika, had been named heir to the position of regent, but he was opposed by Michinaga and his supporters. Michinaga was already a man of considerable influence and was favoured by the infant Emperor Ichijo’s mother, who happened to be Michinaga’s sister.

Michinaga is said to have played on Korechika’s bad relationship with Emperor Kazan and played a ruse that convinced Korechika that Kazan had been visiting the same mistress as him. The story goes that an enraged Korechika then attempted to shoot Kazan with an arrow, which passed through the former Emperor’s sleeve before the man himself fled.

Korechika was arrested, and though the blame for the attempted shooting fell on servants, he was convicted of having placed a curse on Senshi, Michinaga’s sister and primary supporter. Korechika was exiled to Dazaifu in modern-day Fukuoka, and even though he was pardoned less than a year later and returned to a position in government, his influence was broken, and he was no longer a rival to Michinaga.

Though Michinaga never officially took the title of regent (Kampaku), his position in the government and influence over successive Emperors meant that he effectively ruled the country in all but name. He continued the policy of marrying his daughters to Emperors and the sons of Emperors, and in 1016, he forced Emperor Sanjo (his nephew and son-in-law) to abdicate in favour of his grandson, Go-Ichijo.

Michinaga also made an alliance with the Minamoto Clan and made use of the brothers Yorinobu and Yorimitsu as his chief enforcers, particularly in eastern Japan. Under the pair, the Minamoto would deal with enemies of the court (which meant enemies of the Fujiwara) and were rewarded with significant lands of their own, which would eventually lead to the creation of a Minamoto power base far from Imperial control, but more on that later.

Michinaga would be succeeded by his son, Yorimichi, in 1019, and though they didn’t know it at the time, the Fujiwara were in decline from then on.

Rise of the Samurai

As we’ve talked about previously, until the late 8th Century, the Imperial court relied on a system of conscription in order to supply its army with manpower. By the dawn of the 9th Century, however, that system had almost entirely broken down and been gradually replaced with private armies under the control of regional landowners.

The loss of military power went hand in hand with a decline in economic resources as well. Under the Taika reforms, the land had all technically belonged to the Emperor and was held in his name in return for a percentage of the harvest as tax.

By the Heian period, however, that system had broken down to. Noble families and powerful temples were able to negotiate tax exemptions for themselves, and local peasants came to avoid tax (and the attached military service) by signing their lands over the local lord in exchange for protection and potentially a better deal tax-wise.

The private armies that sprung up in the wake of this Imperial decline were made up of men who either had land of their own or else were rewarded with it. These men used their resources to purchase horses, training, and weapons (mostly bows at this point), clearly setting themselves apart from the poorly armed masses of peasant conscripts that had come before.

We’ve spoken about how families like the Fujiwara would marry into the Imperial line in order to enhance their own prestige and influence, and these newly minted provincial elites would adopt the same strategy on a more local scale.

The Fujiwara, Minamoto, and Taira families had, by the 11th Century, grown into sprawling clans that would require several dedicated posts to make sense of, but the short version is that most of the members of these clans weren’t the ones playing Game of Thrones in Heian-Kyo. They were dispatched to the provinces by their families to take up positions as governors and other administrators and spread their respective clan’s influence.

These new administrators may not have had the wealth of their capital-based cousins, but they still carried the illustrious names, and marrying into these families would, in turn, bestow aristocratic status. These new nobles, born far from the throne, had little reason to be loyal to it.

Initially, military service was on an ‘as needed’ basis, but by the end of the 10th century, as family ties to local districts deepened, the status of this new warrior class would become hereditary. These warriors were not called Samurai at first; the proper term was Bushi (which literally means Warrior), and their families became Buke or warrior families.

The modern word Bushi is generally applied to all warriors, but it originally applied specifically to men for whom war was their profession, especially those who possessed the expensive armour, weapons, and horse required, meaning the business of making war became limited to a specific class.

Despite being known for their famous swords, the earliest Samurai were more associated with bows and horse archery.

By the 10th and 11th Century, the threat of the Emishi had long since passed, and now the powerful regional nobility found themselves with large private armies with no external enemies to fight. So, they asked themselves, what next?

Luckily for them, population growth and diminishing resources gave them the perfect excuse to start fighting amongst themselves. Outbreaks of violence became common, and the Imperial court proved to be incapable of putting a stop to it.

Finding that they could attack their neighbours without any kind of consequences meant that the tenuous loyalty of the regional nobility became no loyalty at all. By the mid-11th Century, even the illusion of Imperial authority was fading, and the Fujiwara, who had seemed unassailable a generation earlier, began to feel the walls closing in.

Sources
_{^{https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heian_period
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fujiwara_no_Kamatari
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fujiwara_clan
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fujiwara_no_Michinaga
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E8%97%A4%E5%8E%9F%E5%AC%89%E5%AD%90
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E8%97%A4%E5%8E%9F%E9%81%93%E9%95%B7#%E5%9B%BD%E5%AE%9D%E3%83%BB%E5%BE%A1%E5%A0%82%E9%96%A2%E7%99%BD%E8%A8%98
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E8%97%A4%E5%8E%9F%E9%81%93%E9%95%B7
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Kazan
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E4%BE%8D}}

June 26, 2025
Heian III – Life, Literature, and Ludicrous Eyebrows

So, in our last two looks at Heian Japan, we discussed the decline of Imperial power in the provinces, as the regional nobility gained control of the military and then economic power, leaving the Imperial court effectively impotent.

So, what was actually going on at court while the power was slipping away? Well, what usually happens when you have an isolated mini-community of hyper-privileged, completely out of touch, trust fund babies?

While trust funds obviously didn’t exist in 9th-century Japan, generational wealth absolutely did. The nobility at court was mostly made up of the descendants of the original Yamato families, those who had been the first to come to power in the area around modern Nara.

After the capital moved permanently to Heian-kyo, the noble families moved permanently, too. Some of these families had direct connections to the Imperial Family itself (real or fictional), which created a fairly insular community of people who busied themselves with court life at the expense of the rest of the nation.

We’ve already discussed the consequences of that, so we’re not going to focus too much on military or economic decline today, but needless to say, by the mid to late Heian Period, the court was completely out of touch with what was going on in the provinces, which eventually led to disaster.

Religion

Buddhism arrived in Japan in the 7th Century, brought in by Chinese and Korean scholars. Like most things imported at that time, Buddhism was largely just a copy of how things were done in China. However, by the Heian Period, a distinct “Japanese” culture was beginning to develop that had an impact on religion too.

Two influential sects emerged around this time, Tendai and Shingon. Though founded by monks who had visited China, both branches integrated aspects of traditional Japanese religion into their philosophy. By the mid-Heian period, these sects had become politically influential, particularly the Tendai Sect, based at Mt Hiei, just outside Heian-kyo. There, monks were trained for up to 12 years, with the most promising being retained by the order and others taking up positions in the government, blurring the lines between religious and political power.

On a cultural level, Buddhism played a role not too dissimilar to that of the Catholic Church in Europe. Fantastic temples were constructed, and art, both in the form of painting and sculpture, flourished, sponsored by courtiers looking to curry favour with the increasingly powerful priesthood.

The Great Lecture Hall at Enryaku-ji, the headquarters of the Tendai Sect. Though this building dates from the 17th Century, it gives some idea of the splendour that the Buddhist sects were capable of._{^{By 663highland – Own work, CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8450046}}

The Imperial Family and the aristocracy became tightly linked to the Buddhist Sects, with members of noble families often becoming high-ranking members of religious orders, and in turn, Monks, Priests, and Abbots became influential within the government. It is perhaps unsurprising, then, with the two sides so closely linked, that the temples would often preach in support of the Emperor and the status quo.

Over time, Buddhist Temples would become powerful political players in their own right, and their close association with the Imperial Court led to the image of Buddhism, or at least the organised Buddhist sects to be the religion of the aristocracy, whilst out in the provinces, more traditional Japanese beliefs held sway, further deepening the divide between the Emperor and his people.

A Novel Idea

Prior to the Heian Period, writing had been the preserve of noblemen and educated priests. The complex Chinese symbols (Kanji) took years to learn, and most people didn’t have access to education anyway. That began to change during this period. Firstly, the rise of wealthy, and more importantly, large temples, increased the number of people (men) with access to learning. Though still limited, these men would become a key part of the Imperial Bureaucracy.

The real trailblazers of Heian Literature weren’t priests and nobles, however, but women. As anyone who has ever tried to learn Japanese can tell you, Kanji are awful. There’s about six million of them, and they all have different pronunciations depend on context, mood, or the position of the stars, or something. The point is, Kanji are hard to learn now, and they were hard to learn back then, too, more so given how few people even had access to a textbook, let alone DuoLingo.

Fortunately, Kanji aren’t the only option when it comes to writing Japanese. Early on, Japanese scholars developed kana, a native script that made it easier to translate certain things into Japanese. As we’ve said, Kanji are hard enough to learn even with dedicated study, and given that women didn’t have dedicated study, the kana (divided into Hiragana and Katakana) were adopted instead.

Like most places before the 20th century, literacy in Heian Japan was extremely limited. Whilst this obviously meant there wasn’t a wide audience for poems and stories and such, it did lead to a highly specialised type of ‘courtly’ writing. Poetry, in particular, was a mark of good breeding, as was the quality of your handwriting.

This probably shouldn’t come as a surprise to us; after all, how often do we see politicians and celebrities mocked for their poor spelling and grammar? And don’t get me started on handwriting. Mine is ok now, in my mid-30s, but you’d have needed a scholar of ancient languages to decipher my writing when I was at school.

I digress; poetry and handwriting were important, is the point.

Poetry was probably the most common form of literature at the time. Poems would be written for all sorts of occasions, and it was said that a person’s poetry skills could make or break their reputation, which seems a bit extreme, but there you are.

Poetry was not the only form of literature available to the Heian Court. Stories in a form we would recognise as novels also appeared at this time, perhaps most famously the Tale of Genji, written sometime in the early 11th Century and attributed to Murasaki Shikibu (not her real name), a lady-in-waiting at the court.

She deserves a post of her own, but the short version is that she is generally accepted as the author of the story, although some scholars also suggest that the last ten chapters or so were written by someone else, possibly her daughter.

A 17th-century depiction of Murasaki Shikibu writing the Tale of Genji. Though scholars agree she is the author, there is some debate about the last few chapters.

Heian Period literature can be a bit impenetrable by today’s standards; courtly culture at the time placed grade emphasis on innuendo, allusion, and almost obtuse vagueness. A great example of this is the fact that the Tale of Genji rarely, if ever, refers to characters by name. Although scholars agree that most of the characters are probably based on real people, it would have been unthinkable for a writer at the time to do something as crass as using a person’s name, even in fiction.

This, and a highly stylised form of writing, means that works like the Tale are often viewed by modern Japanese in the same way that a modern English-speaking person might see the works of Shakespeare, something that is fundamentally intelligible but is full of language that has long since fallen out of use, leaving us with metaphors that are open to interpretation, to say the least.

12 Layers

Fashion and Beauty were as central to the Heian Court as they are to the rich and famous today. Whilst at its core, fashion was about showing off wealth and status (as it is today), the Heian Court had some very unique ideas about what constituted beauty.

First, the clothes. Now, I’m no one’s idea of fashionable, I dress practically and comfortably. This is probably true of most people and has been for as long as we’ve had clothes. High fashion, however, isn’t about being practical or even comfortable, apparently, and the Heian Court is a great example of this.

Men and Women were expected to dress differently but with equal flamboyance and impracticality. For men, there were the Sokutai and Ikan, outfits made up of multiple layers that would vary depending on rank, season, and occupation. For example, military officials would dress differently to civilian ones, and versions with fewer layers and shorter sleeves would be worn during the summer months and visa versa.

Formal wear of a Heian Period military official, photographed in 1990, at the Enthronement Ceremony of Emperor Akihito.
_{^{首相官邸 – https://www.kantei.go.jp/jp/singi/gishikitou_iinkai/dai6/siryou1-1.pdf, CC 表示 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=80965200による}}

Generally, Sokutai was the more formal wear, and Ikan was more of a “work” uniform for courtly officials, although the distinction is not always a clear one, as both sets of clothing were highly elaborate by today’s standards.

Marquis Yoshimaro Yamashina, photographed in 1920, wearing the Ikan style of dress.

Despite its flamboyance, Sokutai is still seen in Japan today. Whilst you’re not likely to catch the average Salaryman wearing it on the morning commute, the Imperial Family still wear it, although usually only at ceremonial functions, like Coronations and Royal Weddings.

The current Emperor, Naruhito, wearing Sokutai at his enthronement ceremony in 2019.
_{^{By 内閣府ホームページ, CC BY 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=89645372}}

Sokutai and Ikan are heavy, impractical clothing options, but that’s kind of the point. Wearing a metric tonne of silk and ornaments is a great way to demonstrate that you’re a world apart from the peasantry who are, by the nature of their lives, required to wear cheaper, more practical and (I suspect) more comfortable clothing.

It was worse for women (surprise, surprise). Whilst male clothing was cumbersome, there were certain practical considerations. Men at the court were generally expected to have some kind of job, which limited how impractical their clothing could be. Court Women, however, unburdened by the expectation of actually doing anything, were consequently expected to dress accordingly.

Introducing the Junihitoe, or Twelve-Layer Robe. Yeah, the name isn’t a red herring; while it is true that there may not have been exactly Twelve Layers, the complexity of the Junihitoe was matched only by the need for appropriate colour coordination.

Heian Court Ladies wearing Junihitoe in a later illustration.

The sheer weight of a Junihitoe ensemble is reflective of attitudes towards women at the time. They weren’t expected to do very much except sit around, being attractive and writing poetry. If you think I’m over-generalising, consider that the full weight of all the robes together could be upwards of 20kgs (44lbs) at a time and place where most people averaged about 5ft tall (152.4cm) and rarely weighed in at heavier than 50 kgs (110lbs). Heian Court Ladies could find themselves wearing half their own body weight in silk and accessories. If you can still manage to look pretty under all that, then you’re a better man than me. Or a better Heian Court Lady, but you get the idea.

If the weight of all that fanciness wasn’t bad enough, fashion dictated that the multiple layers be colour-coordinated according to the season or to other special events. These colours were meant to match the “spirit” of the season, leaning into the Heian Court’s love of symbolism, metaphor, and fancy nonsense.

The layers were supposed to compliment each other, but given the nature of clothing at court, the layers themselves were generally only visible at the sleeves. This might raise the question, why go to all that trouble for multi-coloured sleeves? But when they were done with all that poetry and story writing, what else was there to do but coordinate your sleeves?

It’s all in the eyebrows

So, we’ve already established that Men and Women at the Heian Court were religious, literate, and dressed to impress, but what did they actually look like? More accurately, what did they aspire to look like?

Even today, beauty standards are more about what people think they should look like rather than what they do, and in the era before photographs, most art presented a highly stylised idea of what people actually looked like. (Yes, we still do that with Photoshop, I know.)

Much like the beauty of someone’s handwriting and the sheer weight of silk they could handle, someone’s beauty informed what kind of person they were. Basically, being pretty meant you were a good person, but what did being ‘pretty’ actually mean?

As you can see in the images above, women grew their hair long and typically kept it loose, with dark, shiny hair being preferred. Men, on the other hand, wore their hair up and sported thin moustaches and beards.

A later illustration of a Heian Period court official.

Well, both genders seem to have made use of make-up, usually in the form of skin-whitening powders. This is something that’s come up pretty frequently throughout history: paler skin typically suggests that a person doesn’t spend much time outside. In the pre-modern era, a tan meant working outside, which meant you were a commoner, and if there was one thing the people at the Heian Court would not stand for, is was being thought of as common.

In addition to whitening powders, women also painted their mouths to look red and small. They also practised a grooming technique called Hikimayu in which the eyebrows were shaved and then drawn way up the forehead, and it’s quite the look.

An 1850 photograph of Mikako Tokugawa, wife of the last Shogun, showing Hikimayu in all its glory.

If shaved eyebrows aren’t your thing, how about blackened teeth? Don’t worry, they’re not rotting. Actually, some people speculate that the teeth blackening (Ohaguro) actually contributed to healthy teeth by acting as a kind of sealant, so beauty aside, there’s that.

The exact reasons for the start of Ohaguro aren’t clear, but one theory holds that, in combination with the whitening powder, painted mouths, and shaved eyebrows, blackened teeth contributed to a “mask-like” appearance that made it easier to hide emotion.

Heian style fashion would remain in vogue at court for centuries (as seen by traditional dress at Imperial Family events), and this was partly due to the increasing and eventual near total isolation of the Imperial Court in the years that followed the Heian Period.

We’ve discussed how the rot set in previously, but there is one family who might be more to blame than any other, the Fujiwara, who we’ll talk about next time.

Sources
_{^{https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J%C5%ABnihitoe
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E8%89%B2%E7%9B%AE
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E8%A5%B2%E3%81%AE%E8%89%B2%E7%9B%AE
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hikimayu
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E8%A1%A3%E5%86%A0
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E5%AE%BF%E7%9B%B4
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Enryaku-ji
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ohaguro}}

June 24, 2025