Chris Perry, Author

Tag: Japanese military history

  • The Honnoji Incident – Oda Nobunaga. Part Four.

    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.

  • Kamakura V – The More things change…

    As we’ve already seen, by the mid-13th century, the Kamakura Shogunate was ruled in all but name by the powerful Hojo Clan, who ruled as shikken or regents for the Shoguns, who were nothing more than puppets.

    In Kyoto, the Emperor, whilst technically being the overlord of everyone as a son of heaven, was also just a figurehead, whose position and finances relied entirely on the goodwill of the Hojo. Successive Emperors accepted this situation with varying degrees of good grace, concluding that comfortable irrelevance was better than uncomfortable exile.

    Hojo power, however, became a double-edged sword; as their power grew, so did their arrogance. They began to rely on an increasingly small pool of retainers to fill powerful positions, and this led to disillusionment amongst other Samurai houses, who saw their path to wealth and influence blocked by entrenched Hojo interests.

    This situation worsened in the aftermath of the Mongol Invasions. Despite successfully defending the country, the cost of mounting the defence had been ruinous to Hojo finances, and the expected rewards of land and titles were not forthcoming (the Samurai didn’t fight for honour, you see.)

    This brewing resentment took time to reach a boiling point, but as the 14th century went on, anger towards the government in Kamakura continued to grow, and the Hojo, in what they believed to be an unassailable position, were practically blind to it.

    In 1318, Emperor Go-Daigo took the throne. His choice of name was significant, as it had been Emperor Daigo (the Go prefix means ‘later’) who had successfully opposed the power of the Fujiwara during the Heian Period, and Go-Daigo intended to emulate his namesake, and overthrow the Shogunate and restore independent Imperial Rule.

    Go-Daigo’s plans were first uncovered during the so-called Shochu Incident in 1324, where comrades of the Emperor were arrested after being accused of plotting against the Shogun. In response, the Emperor sent a letter to the Shogun, ‘ordering’ them to find the real culprits. It is generally believed that the Shogunate were well aware of Go-Daigo’s involvement, but, wanting to avoid a direct conflict with the Court, they played along, and several conspirators were exiled, whilst the Emperor himself remained officially blameless.

    Go-Daigo, though, didn’t learn his lesson, and tried again in 1331; he gathered supporters and retainers, evidently planning to launch a coup against the Shogunate. Once again, his plans were discovered, and the Shogunate dispatched forces to Kyoto to put the planned uprising down. Go-Daigo fled, but was captured shortly afterwards and exiled to the remote Oki Islands (off the coast of modern Shimane Prefecture).

    The Hojo replaced Go-Daigo with Emperor Kogon, but partisans of Go-Daigo, including his son, Prince Morinaga (sometimes called Moriyoshi) and legendary Samurai, Kusunoki Masashige, continued to oppose the Shogun, until 1333, when Go-Daigo escaped from exile.

    Landing in Hoki Province, Go-Daigo made his base at Mt Senjo and gathered a new “Imperial” Army. In April, Go-Daigo won the Battle of Mt Senjo, gaining him support of many powerful warlords in Western Japan, allowing him to march on Kyoto and take the city in June, re-establishing himself as Emperor.

    Hoki Province, where Go-Daigo landed after escaping from exile.
    By Ash_Crow – Own work, based on Image:Provinces of Japan.svg, CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1682393

    The Hojo dispatched Ashikaga Takauji, one of their foremost generals, with orders to crush Go-Daigo and reassert Shogunate power. Takauji marched, but for reasons that are still unclear, he switched sides, turned his army around, and launched an attack on Kamakura. One possible reason for Takauji’s defection is that the Ashikaga Clan were descendants of the Minamoto, the family that had established the Shogunate, and he hoped to be named Shogun himself, but his real reasons will probably never be known for sure.

    Deprived of their main army, the Hojo suffered a series of defeats, culminating with the Siege of Kamakura in July 1333, where the Hojo were surrounded, and would eventually commit mass suicide in a cave behind the Tosho-ji Temple in Kamakura, bringing their power and their family to an end.

    The alleged site of the cave where the Hojo Clan committed mass suicide.

    In the aftermath of Go-Daigo’s victory, he almost seemed to go out of his way to piss away the goodwill he had accumulated in the years leading up to the so-called “Kenmu Restoration”. The problems stemmed from the fact that those who had supported the overthrow of the Shogunate had done so for a variety of reasons, ranging from genuine loyalty to the Emperor to an ambition to replace the Hojo as regents.

    Commoners hoped for land reform, and though there is little evidence of specific goals, it has been speculated that they were hoping for something akin to land redistribution, ending the peasant’s reliance on powerful, and often fickle, landlords.

    The Samurai who had fought for the Emperor sought rewards in land and titles, hoping to replace the governors and administrators put in place by the Shogunate.

    Finally, Imperial Courtiers hope for a true return to Imperial Rule, where the whole nation was under their control, and they could get back to the good old days of poetry, fancy clothes, and absentee landlordism.

    In the end, all three factions were to be disappointed. Go-Daigo, like the proverbial dog chasing a car, didn’t know what to do with power once he’d got it, beyond a vague notion that he should be in charge.

    In the first place, the commoners were never likely to get land reform; the Emperor had relied on the land-owning Samurai to do the fighting for them, and they were (unsurprisingly) likely to get on board with sharing the land that they had come to view as rightfully theirs.

    So what about the land taken from the Hojo and their allies? Well, that might have gone to the Samurai who had fought for the Imperial cause, but instead, Go-Daigo either took it for himself, or else gifted it to courtiers and cronies, alienating the Samurai who had expected a reward for their efforts.

    Finally, we have the Emperor and his courtiers. For whatever reason, they seemed to believe that they could just rule without the Samurai, despite all evidence telling them otherwise. Positions in regional governance, which had been the domain of Samurai for nearly 300 years at this point, went instead to courtiers.

    Quite what he had thought was going to happen isn’t clear, but within two years, the Emperor had managed to alienate just about everyone, so it should come as no surprise that his position soon became extremely precarious.

    Emperor Go-Daigo, who really didn’t know what he was doing.

    Ashikaga Takauji, the man whose defection had proved essential to the ultimate Imperial victory, now emerged as the leader of the Samurai opposition to the Emperor. The problem started when Takauji began appointing governors to Provinces himself, ignoring Imperial instructions.

    This was exactly how the first Shogunate had gotten started, and it wasn’t long before the Imperial court rightly guessed what Takauji was up to. In response, the Emperor named his son, Morinaga, Shogun, a move which further antagonised the already restless Samurai, as the title of Shogun, even before it became a powerful political position, had always been awarded to a member of the military class.

    Takauji doesn’t seem to have considered himself a turncoat in this case; the Ashikaga were descendants of the Minamoto, after all, so he portrayed himself as the redeemer of their power and, by extension, the power of the warrior class, earning himself the respect and loyalty of the disaffected Samurai.

    Prince Morinaga continued to be the leader of the opposition to Takauji, and so Takauji had him arrested on some flimsy pretext and transported to Kamakura. The situation there was tense, with Hojo loyalists launching sporadic, often poorly organised revolts, until the summer of 1335 when the son of the last Hojo regent, Tokiyuki, successfully took control of the city.

    In fleeing the city, Takauji’s brother, Tadayoshi, had Prince Morinaga beheaded, leaving Kamakura to the Hojo rebels. Upon hearing the news of the city’s fall, Takauji asked the Emperor to bestow the title of Shogun on him, to give me the authority to crush the rebellion and restore order. The Emperor refused, guessing correctly what Takauji was up to.

    Takauji raised an army and took Kamakura back anyway, and when he was ‘invited’ to Kyoto to explain himself, he refused. At this point, civil war was inevitable, and both sides ordered all Samurai in the realm to join their side.

    Again, it’s not clear exactly what Go-Daigo thought was going to happen, after all, he’d spent five years pissing off just about everyone, so it should have come as no surprise when the vast majority of warriors, and peasants too, for that matter, joined Takauji.

    Takauji’s forces quickly secured Kyoto in February 1336, only to be driven out in a counter-attack a short while after. Regrouping in the west, he advanced again, defeating the Emperor’s forces at Minatogawa and securing final control of the capital in July.

    The Battle of Minatogawa, where Ashikaga Takauji overcome the forces of Emperor Go-Daigo.

    Not long after, Takauji had the new Emperor, Komyo, declare him Shogun, giving birth to the Ashikaga, or Muromachi Shogunate. Go-Daigo was down, but not out, however, and he would return to plague the new government, but more about that next time.

    Sources
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E5%BB%BA%E6%AD%A6%E3%81%AE%E6%96%B0%E6%94%BF
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E8%AD%B7%E8%89%AF%E8%A6%AA%E7%8E%8B
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E6%A5%A0%E6%9C%A8%E6%AD%A3%E6%88%90
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kusunoki_Masashige
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prince_Moriyoshi
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E6%AD%A3%E4%B8%AD%E3%81%AE%E5%A4%89
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genk%C5%8D_War
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kenmu_Restoration

  • Kamakura IV – You can’t invade Japan…

    “…unless you’re the Mongols…” – John Green, Crash Course World History

    By the 1260s, the Mongol Empire was the most powerful state the world had ever seen. Throughout the 13th century, united under their leader, Genghis Khan and his heirs, the Mongols had conquered everything from China to Poland, sweeping aside any who opposed them, and spreading Mongol law and customs across Asia and into Eastern Europe.

    In 1260, Kublai was elected as Great Khan. The grandson of Genghis, he had established the base at Khanbaliq, in modern Beijing, would go on to declare himself Emperor of China in 1271 (establishing the Yuan Dynasty), and took part in the subjugation of Korea, which had only finally submitted (and even then, as only a vassal) in 1259.

    Kublai Khan, Great Khan, Emperor of China, and would-be conqueror of Japan.

    Though China would not be completely subjugated until 1279, the Mongol position in Asia was strong enough that Kublai could turn his eyes elsewhere in search of new conquests. Japan presented a unique challenge; though Mongol armies were dominant on land, they had relatively little power at sea, and Japan, as an island nation, presented an opportunity to enhance Mongol prestige, but came with considerable risk.

    At first, Kublai tried to get the Japanese to submit without a fight. In 1266, he sent an embassy with a letter inviting the Japanese to send tribute. The embassy was turned away without even delivering its letter. Kublai, apparently not believing that a Mongol embassy would be treated so disrespectfully, sent another mission which met with similar stonewalling.

    In 1269, Kublai sent a third mission, this time to the island of Tsushima, demanding to know why there had been no response to his earlier letters. At this point, the Imperial court in Kyoto got nervous and suggested that it might be better to deal with the Mongols diplomatically. However, the Hojo Regents in Kamakura rejected this approach; a letter was apparently drafted, but evidently never sent.

    The Mongol Cometh.

    Several more attempts at diplomacy were made, but all came to nothing. The Shogunate seems to have taken the threat of invasion seriously as early as 1268, though, and began preparing defences. In China, the first serious preparations weren’t made until 1274, when Kublai and the Mongols(more correctly, the Yuan Dynasty at this point) began the mobilisation of troops, ships and supplies.

    The first invasion force made landfall on the island of Tsushima in November 1274, but it’s not entirely clear how big the opposing forces were. As is common with these things, the numbers vary wildly, with Chinese sources saying the Japanese have over 100,000 warriors, whilst the Japanese claim to have been outnumbered 10 to 1, both of which are clearly exaggerations.

    Most scholars put the total Mongol forces at around 30,000 (including sailors), but what is certain is that they quickly conquered Tsushima and nearby Iki Island, using them as a base for stage two of their plan. Mongol forces (around 6000) landed at Hakata Bay, in modern Fukuoka, on November 19th.

    Here we see the mismatch in fighting styles between the Mongols and Japanese. The Japanese tried to fight in their own way, with individuals announcing themselves and seeking challengers from the opposing side until one side overcame the other. The Mongols, however, fought as units, not individuals, and they made use of early gunpowder weapons, like primitive hand grenades, which terrified the Japanese and their horses and disrupted their tactics.

    “According to our manner of fighting, we must first call out by name someone from the enemy ranks, and then attack in single combat. But they (the Mongols) took no notice at all of such conventions; they rushed forward all together in a mass, grappling with any individuals they could catch and killing them.” – Hachiman Gudokan

    The Japanese fought bravely, but were outmatched by Mongolian tactics and gunpowder weapons.

    The fighting was brief and badly organised, and though the Mongols were able to drive the Japanese back and even burn Hakata, they made no further progress. Overnight, apparently fearing a Japanese counterattack, the Mongols retreated to their ships, and by the next morning, they were gone.

    Japanese sources say that unfavourable winds blew the Mongol fleet back out to sea, whilst Chinese sources make reference to a storm that scattered the fleet either in Hakata Bay or when it was on its way back to Korea.

    Either way, the first Mongol invasion was over. There are no reliable accounts of Japanese losses, though they appear to have been heavy, especially on Tsushima, where the Mongols killed and burned everything before them. As for the Mongols, they may have lost up to half their forces, though again, the sources aren’t entirely clear.

    Scholars disagree about whether this first ‘invasion’ was an actual attempt to conquer territory in Japan, or was instead a reconnaissance in force, designed to test the fighting abilities of the Japanese before a major effort was launched.

    The Empire Strikes Back

    The Japanese at the time certainly believed that the Mongols would be back, and as soon as the last invader disappeared, preparations were made for their return. Potential landing sites in Kyushu were fortified with castles, and stakes were driven into river beds, and at Hakata, a 2-meter wall, the Genko Borui, was built to prevent a second sacking of the city.

    For his part, Kublai made another attempt at diplomacy and dispatched another embassy, which had orders to refuse to leave until an answer was received. They certainly got an answer when the regent of the day, Hojo Tokimune, had them beheaded. Their graves can still be seen at Joryu-ji Temple in Fujisawa.

    The stele marking the graves of the envoys, in Fujisawa.
    By kamakura – Self-photographed, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3082856

    Another embassy was sent in July 1279 and met the same fate, this time at Hakata, and in 1280, Kublai gathered his men, and together they made plans for a second invasion of Japan.

    By this time, China had been fully conquered, and using his newly acquired resources, Kublai was able to amass more than 1500 ships, and 100,000 men, with a further 40,000 in Korea. These numbers are probably exaggerated, but it does go some way towards showing how large the invasion was when compared to the first.

    The Mongol forces were divided into two: the Eastern and the Southern Army. The Eastern Army landed on Tsushima again in June, and once again, the island and nearby Iki Island were quickly conquered. The Eastern Army was supposed to wait for the Southern Army, but its commanders instead attacked Kyushu directly, landing at Hakata and nearby Nagato Province (in modern Yamaguchi Prefecture).

    The attack in Nagato was a failure, and the one at Hakata ran into the wall that had been built for that purpose. The Japanese had learned their lesson; they no longer sought out individual battles with the Mongols, instead remaining behind their defences and driving the invaders back with their bows (the preferred weapon of the Samurai at the time).

    The Mongols landed, but couldn’t overcome determined Japanese defenders, who had learned their lesson.

    Though driven back, the Mongols busied themselves with occupying the abundant islands around northern Kyushu, turning some of them into bases from which they raided the mainland. The Japanese lacked the naval strength to face the Mongol fleet directly, and instead launched night attacks on Mongol ships, inflicting minor damage and proving to be a nuisance rather than a serious strategic threat.

    The situation got worse for the Japanese when the Mongol Southern Fleet finally arrived, and the combined fleets based themselves at Takashima Island, where they made plans to renew the attack on Kyushu.

    At the same time, an army of some 60,000, dispatched by the Shogun to oppose the invasion, was making its way towards Kyushu, but before it reached Chofu, where it intended to cross from Honshu (Japan’s main island) to Kyushu, the weather had intervened.

    And they were scattered.

    In mid-August, the weather took a sudden turn, experienced sailors amongst the Mongol Fleet recognised the signs sought cover in Imari Bay, but it was already too late. On August 15th, a typhoon smashed into the Mongol Fleet, devastating it; those ships not sunk outright were stranded ashore where the Japanese made short work of their crews.

    The few Mongol ships that managed to survive the storm limped back across the sea to Korea, with some Chinese sources claiming that the losses may have been as high as 90%. The Mongol Invasion of Japan had failed, and though there were discussions about mounting a third attempt, they came to nothing, and Japan would remain free of foreign occupation until 1945.

    Despite having seen off the invasion, the Shogunate and the Hojo Regents were in no position to celebrate. Traditionally, warriors, victorious in war, were granted land taken from their defeated enemies, or at least could expect a share of the loot.

    The problem was that there was no land, and precious little loot to be shared out, and this led to growing resentment amongst the men who had actually done the fighting and dying and the popularity and prestige of the Shogunate was badly shaken.

    Another consequence of the failed invasion was a sharp rise in Japanese amongst the Wako, pirates who were a serious problem for coastal Chinese communities for decades afterwards, so much so, that Wako raids were cited as one of the reasons for an eventual Chinese ban on trade with Japan, though that would come long after the Mongol Yuan Dynasty had fallen.

    In Japan, too, the unsuccessful invasion led to some significant changes. Firstly, the belief that Japan was a land with divine protection became widespread, with the Kamikaze (literally, Divine Wind) being cited as the source of the Typhoon that had smashed the Mongol Fleet.

    Military technology was changed too; prior to the invasion, the Samurai had favoured the bow or spear as their primary weapon. When forced to fight up close with the Mongols, their swords were found to be too easily bent or broken, and this led to innovations in sword manufacturing that produced shorter, lighter, but stronger blades, giving birth to the iconic swords we know today.

    The Hojo and their puppet Shoguns would continue to rule Japan for decades after the threat of invasion had passed, but their rule was shaky, and the 14th century would see them face their final challenge, one of their own.

    Sources
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E5%85%83%E5%AF%87
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mongol_invasions_of_Japan
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kublai_Khan

    Not that many this week, eh?

  • The Genpei War

    Oh yes, here we go, a good old-fashioned war post! All those posts about economic and social decline are finally paying off! Let’s get into it!

    So, as we’ve discussed, by the mid-12th Century, the Imperial Court was in a bad way. Over the centuries, the throne had been dominated by one powerful clan after another, who would marry into the Imperial family again and again in order to maintain that domination, at the cost of turning their gene pool into more of a muddy puddle. Luckily, Heian Era Japan didn’t have a concept of genetics, so I’m sure it was fine.

    The first of these families had been the Soga, who had been overthrown by the Fujiwara in the Isshi Incident in 645. The Fujiwara had had more or less complete control until the Emperors started abdicating to become insei, that is, cloistered Emperors, or an Emperor with all the power of the throne and none of the restraints that the Fujiwara had taken advantage of.

    With the Fujiwara weakened, their enemies started circling. The Hogen Rebellion in 1156 marked the end of Fujiwara power, as the rival Taira and Minamoto families teamed up to take them down. In a betrayal that will surprise no one, the Taira then shafted the Minamoto in the post-rebellion settlement, taking most of the power and the influence over the Emperor for themselves.

    The Minamoto were understandably a bit put out by that, so they launched a rebellion of their own in 1160. The so-called Heiji Rebellion failed, and the Minamoto were effectively wiped out, their leadership either killed or banished to the provinces.

    For the next 20 years, the Taira ruled as the Fujiwara had, but the problem with a violent takeover is that once one group does it, everyone wants to have a go. The Taira, like the Fujiwara before them, became overly enamoured with court life and neglected the provinces.

    This was unfortunate because, as I mentioned earlier, it was the provinces to which the Minamoto had been banished, and they weren’t in a forgiving mood when it came to the Taira.

    The Heiji Rebellion in 1160 marked the triumph of the Taira over their Minamoto rivals, at least temporarily.

    The leader of the Taira at this point was Kiyomori. He had led the Taira forces that had overthrown the Fujiwara and then seen off the Minamoto, and he was probably feeling pretty pleased with himself. Using his influence (and presumably the implicit threat of force), he rose through the ranks at court, eventually becoming Daijo-Daijin, which was basically the head of the government and second only to the Emperor (in theory).

    Now, there had obviously been Daijo-Daijin before Kiyomori, but he was significant because he was the first from the buke or warrior families to rise to that rank. Previously, the formal ranks of the Imperial Bureaucracy had been held by members or allies of the Fujiwara, and Kiyomori was an outsider who was seen as having used martial strength to gain his position, which was true, to be fair.

    In 1171, Kiyomori cemented his power at court by having his daughter, Tokuko, marry Emperor Takakura. Now, none of this was particularly new; the Fujiwara had been doing it for centuries, after all, but Kiyomori was different; he was a thug.

    The Fujiwara, for all their faults, had always played the game properly. They knew the rules, understood court etiquette, wrote beautiful poems, all that stuff. Kiyomori wasn’t like that. He’d taken power through military strength, and that was how he intended to keep hold of it. He wasn’t afraid to throw his weight around, and it was a risky business to oppose him.

    In 1177, in response to an alleged coup (the Shishigatani incident), Kiyomori ordered the arrest of dozens of conspirators. That these conspirators were all people who had reason to be offended by Kiyomori was convenient, and some sources speculate that the plot never existed at all, as it appears to have relied entirely on the testimony of a single monk, who Kiyomori had tortured and then beheaded.

    Regardless of whether it was real or not, Kiyomori had reinforced his power. Those who had ‘opposed’ him were dead or exiled, and he filled the vacant posts with family members and allies, further cementing his power and the fury of the opposition against him.

    In 1178, Tokuko gave birth to a son, Antoku, and Kiyomori decided it’d be a good time to remind everyone at court who was really in charge. The so-called Political Crisis of the Third Year of the Jisho Era (which is a bit easier to say in Japanese, I assure you) was basically a military coup d’etat. Kiyomori brought thousands of his warriors from the provinces to the capital and took over.

    There was no longer any pretence, Kiyomori was dictator in all but name, and shortly after the coup, he had Emperor Takakura abdicate in favour of the two-year-old Antoku, who obviously couldn’t rule himself, at which point Kiyomori kindly stepped in as regent.

    You remember what I said about violent takeovers? Well, Kiyomori was about to learn that lesson. The Taira had driven out the Minamoto, but they hadn’t destroyed them, and for twenty years, Kiyomori had ruled in such a way that he alienated just about everyone.

    In 1180, Prince Mochihito, who had been in line for the throne before Kiyomori raised the infant Antoku in his place, raised his banner in rebellion, calling for the opponents of the Taira to gather an army and march on the capital. Unfortunately, for Mochihito, his plan was discovered, and he was forced to flee, eventually arriving at the temple of Mii-Dera in Nara.

    What follows is largely recorded in The Heike Monogatari, which is a pretty epic read, but is largely a fictionalised account of the war, presenting an idealised version of events, in which heroic warriors do heroic things against impossible (and often implausible) odds.

    What we do know is that Mochihito, outnumbered and overwhelmed, was defeated at the Battle of Uji, just outside modern Kyoto, where he was either killed or executed shortly afterwards. Despite his unsuccessful attempts at raising an army, Mochihito’s call to arms did serve to galvanise the opposition to the Taira.

    Prince Mochihito, whose failed rebellion and death at the Battle of Uji served to inspire the opposition to Taira rule.
    ColBase: 国立博物館所蔵品統合検索システム (Integrated Collections Database of the National Museums, Japan), CC 表示 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=92525963による

    It is at this point that Minamoto no Yoritomo enters the stage, he definitely deserves a post of his own, but the short version is that he was 13 in 1160, and the Taira, perhaps feeling pity over his youth, hadn’t executed him, banishing him to the provinces instead.

    Yoritomo, however, had a long memory, and he had spent the last twenty years gaining strength, first over his own clan, and then the surrounding area. His base was the city of Kamakura, in modern-day Kanagawa Prefecture, and it was a relatively long way from the capital.

    When news of Uji reached him, Yoritomo set off looking for a fight. He called for help from the surrounding clans, and although there seems to have been some support, very few actually showed up to fight. In September 1180, Yoritomo had managed to gather just 300 men, and he was attacked by a force ten times that size at the Battle of Ishibashiyama.

    Despite this defeat, Yoritomo was able to escape by sea to Awa Province (in modern Chiba Prefecture), from where he would continue the fight. Meanwhile, the Taira, under Kiyomori, sought to take revenge against the monks who had hidden Prince Mochihito, and attacked and burned the city of Nara.

    Meanwhile, Yoritomo’s uncle was defeated at the Battle of Sunomatagawa in June 1181. The story goes that the Minamoto tried to sneak across a river at night in order to attack the Taira on the other bank. Apparently, their plan failed because Taira sentries were able to distinguish friend from foe by checking who was wet, or not. That seems like remarkable awareness for a battle in the dark, but regardless, the Minamoto failed to surprise the Taira and were defeated.

    Later that year, Yoritomo’s cousin (and sometimes rival) Yoshinaka raised an army in the north and defeated the Taira army sent to stop him, after which, fighting died down for a while.

    Taira no Kiyomori had died earlier in 1181 (the story goes that his fever was so hot anyone who tried to tend him would be burned), and not long after, a famine broke out that would spread across the nation. You can’t fight if you can’t eat, and so what followed was a two-year lull in the fighting, which I imagine wasn’t much comfort to the starving peasants.

    The fighting would resume in 1183, and the Taira would have some initial success, but at the Battle of Kurikara Pass in June of that year, the Taira were decisively defeated, and the momentum shifted to the Minamoto. It was Yoshinaka (Yoritomo’s cousin) and Yukiie (Yoritomo’s Uncle, but not Yoshinaka’s father, I know, it’s confusing) who actually led the Minamoto to the capital.

    As Kiyomori was dead, it fell to his son Munemori to lead the defence of the city. He did this by taking young Emperor Antoku and fleeing west, as you do. It was at this point that the cloistered Emperor, Go-Shirakawa (yeah, he’s still alive at this point!) threw in his lot with Yoshinaka and the Minamoto, calling on them to pursue and destroy the Taira.

    Unfortunately, Yoshinaka had different plans. Fancying himself the rightful leader of the Minamoto, he engaged in a plot against his cousin, Yoritomo, who was by now marching from the East towards the capital. It seems he was initially joined by Yukiie, who then got cold feet and let details of the plot slip.

    Yoshinaka himself became aware that the plot had been discovered and moved first, setting fire to several parts of the capital and taking Go-Shirakawa hostage. It was at this point that Yoritomo’s brothers, Yoshitsune and Noriyori, arrived with a considerable force. They drove Yoshinaka out of the capital, and then killed him at the Second Battle of Uji , bringing an end to the Minamoto Clan’s feuding (for now.)

    A scene from the Second Battle of Uji. The bridge had been pulled up, hence the need to swim.

    After this, the momentum was decisively on the side of the Minamoto. They pursued the Taira, who had originally set up camp at Dazaifu, in Kyushu, and fortifying their positions around the Inland Sea, which were the lands the Taira had originally held.

    The Minamoto went on the offensive and defeated the Taira at the Battle of Ichi-no-Tani, near modern-day Kobe, followed up by another victory at Kojima. These successes allowed the Minamoto to drive the Taira out of their strongholds along the coast of the Inland Sea.

    The Taira, in possession of what was apparently the only navy in Japan at the time, and certainly the strongest, retreated to Shikoku, knowing that the Minamoto couldn’t follow. The Minamoto weren’t going to just let the Taira get away, however, and although it took time, they built up their naval strength before launching an attack at Yashima, in modern-day Takamatsu, that took the Taira fortress there, which had also been used as a makeshift palace for Emperor Antoku.

    Driven out of yet another stronghold, the Taira took to their ships and fled. The Minamoto would catch up to them at Dan-no-Ura, in the Straits of Shimonoseki. If you believe the Heike Monogatari (which you shouldn’t), then the Minamoto had 3000 ships to the Taira’s 1000. According to the Azuma Kagami, which is a biased by slightly more believable source, the forces were actually around 800 to 500, which are still considerable forces, but a bit more plausible.

    Despite being outnumbered, the Taira had home advantage and knew the tides and currents better than their foes. They also had the Emperor with them, which they assumed would give their side more legitimacy and encourage their men to fight harder.

    It was a good idea in theory, but it didn’t work. Though the tides were initially in the Taira’s favour, they turned, as tides do, and one of the Taira’s commanders turned as well, as men often do. Surrounded and attacked from all sides, the Taira began committing suicide en masse. One of those who died was six-year-old Antoku. The story goes that his grandmother, Taira no Kiyomori’s widow, took the boy in her arms and jumped with him into the sea. Neither was seen again.

    The Taira also tried to get rid of the Imperial Regalia, tossing them overboard. However, they apparently only managed to dump the mythical Kusanagi Sword and the Yasakani Jewel. The Yata no Kagami, a sacred bronze mirror, was apparently saved when the woman who tried to throw it overboard was killed when she accidentally looked at it.

    All three items were apparently recovered, either on the day of the battle or later, by divers. They are supposedly housed at the Ise Shrine in Mie Prefecture. The fact that no one has been allowed to see the artefacts since Dan-no-Ura is apparently just a coincidence.

    A later illustration of the Battle of Dan-no-Ura, which brought an end to Taira control of Japan.

    The result of Dan-no-Ura was the end of the Taira as a serious political force. Later that year, the Emperor Go-Shirakawa gave Minamoto no Yoritomo the right to collect taxes and appoint officials, effectively handing control of the state over to him.

    Though it would be some years before Yoritomo would take the formal title, the Genpei War marks the time at which control of Japan shifted from courtiers and Emperors to warriors under a supreme military commander who took a title that had first been used in the earliest days of Imperial rule in Japan, Sei-i Tai Shōgun.

    Cue dramatic music

    Sources
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Dan-no-ura
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Uji_(1184)
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Azuma_Kagami
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E5%B1%8B%E5%B3%B6%E3%81%AE%E6%88%A6%E3%81%84
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Yashima
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E4%B8%80%E3%83%8E%E8%B0%B7%E3%81%AE%E6%88%A6%E3%81%84
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E8%97%A4%E6%88%B8%E3%81%AE%E6%88%A6%E3%81%84
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E6%BA%90%E8%A1%8C%E5%AE%B6
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E5%80%B6%E5%88%A9%E4%BC%BD%E7%BE%85%E5%B3%A0%E3%81%AE%E6%88%A6%E3%81%84
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Kurikara_Pass
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minamoto_no_Yukiie
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minamoto_no_Yoshinaka
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Sunomata-gawa
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Ishibashiyama
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E4%BB%A5%E4%BB%81%E7%8E%8B
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prince_Mochihito
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Takakura
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Antoku
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taira_no_Kiyomori
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Tale_of_the_Heike
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Uji_(1180)
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E6%B2%BB%E6%89%BF%E3%83%BB%E5%AF%BF%E6%B0%B8%E3%81%AE%E4%B9%B1
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E6%B2%BB%E6%89%BF%E4%B8%89%E5%B9%B4%E3%81%AE%E6%94%BF%E5%A4%89
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shishigatani_incident
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E9%B9%BF%E3%82%B1%E8%B0%B7%E3%81%AE%E9%99%B0%E8%AC%80
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genpei_War
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minamoto_no_Yoritomo

  • Heian V – Taira, Minamoto, & Tachibana.

    Last time, we talked at length about the Fujiwara family. We looked at how they rose to power and came to dominate the Imperial Court through a combination of violence, intrigue, and incestuous marriages.

    The Minamoto were far from the only noble family, however. Although there were literally dozens of families, cadet branches and noble upstarts, by the beginning of the Heian Era, there were four main houses: the Fujiwara, Taira, Minamoto, and Tachibana families.

    We’ve already talked at length about the Fujiwara and their origins, but what about the other three? First, a bit of background: Emperors generally had more than one consort, though there was technically only supposed to be one “Empress” This was routinely flouted during the Heian Period, especially by the Fujiwara, and besides official wives, the Emperor would take other noble women as concubines.

    In the days before family planning, this meant that any Emperor could have far more children than he knew what to do with. This would frequently lead to instability at court, as rival factions would form around different heirs, but what about the sons who were born to lower ranked women, or otherwise lacked legitimacy and support?

    Well, that’s where the Taira, Minamoto, and Tachibana come in. Technically, these three families didn’t start out as families at all; instead, the names were bestowed on these “extra” Imperial princes, who were excluded from the throne and would then go off and start houses of their own as part of the nobility.

    The Tachibana were the first (708), followed by the Minamoto (814) and the Taira (825), but things get complicated almost immediately. The problem is that one Emperor might bestow the name Minamoto on his grandson, only for another Emperor a generation later to do the same thing, creating two families that share a name.

    Whilst this isn’t uncommon in the modern world (How many Smiths do you know?), it does make it tricky to keep track of who is who when writing up a history blog. For the purposes of keeping things concise, I will be referring to all branches of each clan by the same name unless it’s important to make a distinction.

    It’s honestly not that bad with the Tachibana, as there were only two main branches. Even the Taira only had four, but the Minamoto had twenty-one, and that’s where it gets silly. It’s even worse when you realise that most, if not all, the later Samurai houses claim descent from at least one of the four major Heian Families, but we’ll get to that later.

    Tachibana

    We’ll start, as they say, at the beginning. Though the Fujiwara would emerge in 668, fifty years before the Tachibana, the latter family are the first of these Imperial “offshoots.” (The Fujiwara were pre-eminent but were not founded by the son of an Emperor).

    The Tachibana initially came into being in 708, when court Lady Agatainukai no Michiyo was given the honorary name “Tachibana” by Empress Genmei. The clan’s name was officially changed to Tachibana in 736, when Michiyo’s sons, Katsuragi and Sai, formally adopted the name; both men were direct descendants of Emperor Bidatsu through their father, Prince Minu.

    Initially, the Tachibana seemed to be on course to be one of the main players in Heian Court politics. Though Sai died early, his brother, Katsuragi (who changed his name to Tachibana no Moroe), would rise to high office in the Imperial Government, securing the family’s influence in the short term.

    Tachibana no Moroe, under whom the Tachibana’s star rose considerably.

    Unfortunately, as is so often the case, the son did not prove the equal of the father. Moroe was succeeded by his son, Tachibana no Naramaro. Though Naramaro was granted high office at first when Emperor Shomu retired and was succeeded by his daughter, Empress Koken, Tachibana’s influence was suddenly under threat.

    Koken is another character who deserves an entire post of her own, but the short version is that she favoured and was supported by the Fujiwara under Fujiwara no Nakamoro. Taking advantage of this, Nakamoro acquired lands, wealth, and titles that increased his wealth and power still further.

    Nakamoro’s rise was not without opposition; however, even amongst his own family, jealous cousins and siblings plotted against him, but it was the Tachibana who had the most to lose by his rise and the most to gain from his potential fall.

    In 755, in response to some drunken slander, Tachibana no Naramoro was forced to retire by Fujiwara no Nakamoro and his supporters at court. When Naramoro’s father, Tachibana no Moroe, died in 757, Naramoro, now in control of the Tachibana Clan, made his move.

    Allying themselves with Nakamoro’s disaffected sibling, Fujiwara no Toyonari, the Tachibana planned to raise troops, storm the capital, and overthrow the Fujiwara and their puppet Emperor, replacing them with Tachibana dominance, and putting a more sympathetic Imperial Prince on the throne.

    Unfortunately for the Tachibana, the conspiracy was uncovered, and the conspirators were arrested. Those of Fujiwara blood were sentenced to exile in Kyushu, but Tachibana no Naramoro was sentenced to death. Despite pleas for clemency, they were executed sometime in 757, although the official records of how Naramoro died have been lost.

    The power of the Tachibana at court would never recover, though they would continue to hold positions in the government. The rise of the Fujiwara proved to be inexorable, and the Tachibana were soon eclipsed. The last ‘hurrah’ of the family appears to have been their role in a rebellion in 939 in support of a different Fujiwara.

    The rebellion was crushed, and those involved were severely punished, but one member of the family, Tachibana no Toyasu, remained loyal to the Emperor and even took part in the execution of the rebel leader. As a reward, he received lands and titles in Iyo Province, where a branch of the family would survive a while longer, but the days of Tachibana influence at court were over.

    Iyo Province, where the Iyo-Tachibana family were granted lands and titles.
    By Ash_Crow – Own work, based on Image:Provinces of Japan.svg, CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1682518

    A final note: there was a Samurai clan called Tachibana based near modern Fukuoka; however, the name is a coincidence, and the later Tachibana were no relation to the Heian Period family.
    Incidentally, this Tachibana family are still there, and they run a ryokan (traditional Japanese inn) based in their ancestor’s former residence.

    Taira

    Much like their contemporaries, the Taira began with grandsons and great-grandsons of several Emperors, and despite the shared name, there were actually four branches of the Taira family that came into being during the 9th Century, and these branches would often split as well. However, for our purposes, it is the line of Taira no Takamochi, founded in 889, that proved to be the most enduring.

    Unlike the Fujiwara and Tachibana, the Taira’s centre of power was not the court at Heian-Kyo but the provinces, specifically the area of the Kanto plain, which includes the area in and around modern Tokyo, far from the Imperial Capital.

    The Kanto Region, centre of Taira strength, and a long way from the Imperial Court.
    By TUBS – This vector image includes elements that have been taken or adapted from this file:, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=16385930

    This distance meant that Taira influence at court was initially weak, but it worked both ways. Whilst the Taira might have been unable to exert much influence on the throne, the throne was equally unable to exert influence on the Taira.

    Consequently, as Imperial control waned in the provinces, the Taira were one of the main beneficiaries, gaining control of vast swathes of farmland and the wealth and power that went along with it. They would also begin to gather large groups of armed men to their service, and by the 10th Century, they were the dominant power in the East.

    The Taira would put this wealth and power to good use, engaging in local feuds without landholders and growing their already considerable resources through the application of force; though some of their opponents would appeal to the Emperor, there was little the Imperial Court could actually do about it, and as long as the Taira focused their efforts on their neighbours, the Court seemed content to turn a blind eye.

    Enter Taira no Masakado. Masakado’s life has been the subject of a lot of dramatisation over the years, so it’s not always possible to figure out exactly who he was or what he did. However, he appears to have gone to Heian-kyo in his late teens, hoping to gain an official position.

    He was out of luck on this score and returned home. There, if the stories are to be believed, he got into a dispute with his uncle over a woman, who may have been his daughter (Masakado’s cousin) or maybe not; again, the sources don’t agree. Another source says that there was a woman, but she was instead the daughter of Minamoto no Mamoru, a powerful local rival to the Taira.

    Still, more sources don’t mention a woman at all, stating that the conflict began as a result of a land dispute, with Masakado’s supposed inheritance being taken by another member of the family.

    While the background reasons are likely to never be known for certain, in early 935, Masakado was ambushed somewhere in Hitachi Province, modern Ibaraki Prefecture, by the sons of Minamoto no Mamoru. Masakado survived the attack, fighting off and killing his attackers, and responded by going on a rampage throughout Hitachi Province, burning the homes of his enemies, including the Uncle who he was in dispute with (either about land or his cousin.)

    Hitachi Province, where Masakado’s rebellion began.
    By Ash_Crow – Own work, based on Image:Provinces of Japan.svg, CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1682357

    The situation spiralled out of control from there, and there was a series of battles in which Masakado generally prevailed. His enemies called in support from nearby provinces, and though they outnumbered Masakado considerably, he won a series of victories and drove his foes back to their residences.

    At this point, Masakado seems to have been worried about official consequences (because the bloodshed so far was fine, I guess.) At this point, Masakado limited himself to lodging a formal complaint, and when he was summoned to the Imperial Court to explain himself, it was declared to have been a local matter, and all involved were pardoned.

    A later illustration depicting Masakado in battle.

    Now, you might think that official censure would be enough to put the matter to rest, but you’d be wrong. It turns out that if you let powerful local landowners build up their own private armies, they tend to be less keen on obeying central authority.

    Almost as soon as Masakado returned to his province, the fighting resumed. Those who Masakado had defeated now sought revenge and attacked him. This time, it seems Masakado was defeated, and several of his holdings were burned.

    Exactly what led up to the events that followed isn’t clear, but by the end of 939, Masakado had gotten into further disputes with local officials, and he went as far as attacking the provincial headquarters, burning it to the ground, and looting the official storehouses.

    Now, the Imperial Court was pretty ineffectual by this point, but this was a direct attack on their authority, and even the decadent Heian Court couldn’t ignore that. The problem was, what to do about it? There was no Imperial Army, so the court had to rely on the very same local landowners that Masakado had been feuding with in the first place.

    Masakado was declared to be in rebellion, and a coalition army led by Fujiwara no Hidesato, Minamoto no Tsunemoto, and Taira no Sadamori (Masakado’s cousin) crushed the rebels in 59 days.

    Despite dealing with the rebellion relatively easily, the outcome was actually highly problematic for the Court. Although the Rebels had been beaten, it had been local leaders who had done the actual fighting, and even though Masakado had been a Taira, it had been Taira who had played a major role in his defeat.

    It would be some years before the full consequences of this would be felt, but the Taira would remain in place in the East, now with the added assurances that their military strength was not only secure but necessary.

    Minamoto

    So, we move on to the third part of our story today. The Minamoto are last, but most certainly not least, when it comes to discussing the major powers of the Heian Court.

    Like the other great families, the Minamoto got their start when sons and grandsons of Emperors were granted their own houses as a way to compensate them for never being able to sit on the throne. Whilst the Fujiwara, Taira, and Tachibana would spread across the Japan, the Minamoto were the proverbial weeds.

    No fewer than 21 separate branches of the family were created, and although a few would die out within a generation or two, others became central to the history of Japan, with one, the Seiwa Branch, proving to be truly significant indeed.

    Given the sheer number of branches of the Minamoto Family, it isn’t possible to write a history of them that would be concise enough to be readable. Given that I don’t expect you to sit there and read for the next three or four months, we’re going to condense a lot of this information, as a lot of overlaps with events we’ve already discussed, and, as you’ll see, the Minamoto will become extremely important in the latter days of the Heian Period.

    Generally, the Minamoto were a family that is closely identified with the decline of Imperial authority in the provinces. Whereas the Fujiwara and Tachibana concerned themselves with court politics, the Minamoto, like the Taira, focused on building their powerbase away from the capital.

    In many ways, the Minamoto best represents the growing shift in the power dynamic. Although the Fujiwara were largely unchallenged at court during this period, they would be forced to call on the Minamoto to use their military resources to deal with problems in the provinces. Indeed, during Masakado’s rebellion that we mentioned earlier, it was Minamoto forces that played a large role in his defeat.

    Later, it was the Minamoto brothers, Yorinobu and Yorimitsu, who were in the service of the Fujiwara, acting as their enforcers in the provinces. Yorinobu’s son, Yoriyoshi, would lead ‘Imperial’ forces against the rebel Abe Clan in northern Japan during the so-called “Nine Years War”, so named despite lasting Eleven Years.

    Such was the prowess of the Yorinobu’s grandson, Yoshiie, that he was nicknamed “Son of the God of War”, and the martial reputation of the Minamoto was secured.

    By the 11th Century, Japan was divided between rival warlords whose power no longer derived from the Imperial court. They would settle their own matters, often with steel, and the 11th Century would see the nadir and eventual end of the Heian Court’s dominance.

    Sources

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minamoto_clan
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minamoto_no_Yorinobu
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minamoto_no_Yorimitsu
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minamoto_no_Yoriyoshi
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minamoto_no_Yoshiie
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Former_Nine_Years%27_War

  • Heian Japan I – War & Peace

    Due to the sheer volume of information I want to share about the Heian Period, these next few posts are going to be a mix of different things; today, we’re going to talk about some of the military aspects of the early Heian Period, which will be important for later, so pay attention.

    Last time, we looked at the Yamato Period, where a recognisable Imperial system emerged from myriad proto-kingdoms and tribal states. By the late 8th century, following a period of extensive reform, power had been (theoretically) centralised in the hands of the reigning Emperor but was, in reality, in the hands of various noble factions who had no qualms about committing acts of violence in the defence of their interests.

    The Isshi Incident, proving that when you play the Game of Thrones, you win, or some guy cuts your head off.

    After the Isshi Incident in 645, which saw the leadership of the formerly dominant Soga Clan eliminated, the Imperial Throne was able to reassert its independence. One of the co-conspirators in the incident was Nakatomi no Kamatari, who was one of the initiators of the Taika Reforms we looked at last time. He was also a close supporter of Prince Naka no Oe, who had also taken a leading role in the Isshi Incident.

    Now, this isn’t some random tangent; when Prince Naka no Oe became Emperor Tenji in 668, Nakatomi rose still higher. On the latter’s deathbed in 669, the Emperor bestowed a new family name on him. From then on, Nakatomi no Kamatari and his descendants would be known as the Fujiwara.

    New Capital, Old Problems

    The Heian Period is named after and started in the new Imperial Capital, Heian-Kyo, which means City of Peace (or tranquillity, if you’re feeling poetic). It was the 50th Emperor, Kanmu, who moved the capital there in 794, and it remained the seat of the Emperors until 1868. It is better known today as Kyoto.

    Although 794 officially marks the beginning of the Heian Period, the seeds for what would come had already been sown in the years prior. Since the arrival of Buddhism in Japan and the victory of the pro-Buddhist factions that we looked at last time, the Buddhist Clergy had become politically powerful, leading to problems between them, the nobility, and the Emperor.

    In 784, Kanmu initially moved the capital from Heijo-kyo (near modern Nara) to Nagaoka-kyo (confusingly, located mostly in modern Muko, Kyoto Prefecture, not the nearby city of Nagaokakyo).

    The move was, at least in part, motivated by a desire to separate the Imperial Capital from the influence of powerful Buddhist temples that had emerged near Nara. However, the move would prove unsuccessful. Political intrigue followed the court, and less than a year after the move was formalised, the primary architect, Fujiwara no Tanetsugu, was assassinated by a rival faction. (There’s that Fujiwara name again.)

    In the aftermath of the killing, numerous court officials and even members of the Imperial Family were arrested. Some were executed, whilst others were exiled, including the Emperor’s brother, Prince Sawara. Unfortunately, Sawara died en route, and in the years that followed, Nagaoka-kyo suffered several disasters, floods, famines, fires, and the deaths of many important people.

    Now, these days, we might put that down to bad luck or to deliberate attempts to undermine the Emperor, but the people back then were a superstitious lot, and when, in 792, the disasters were blamed on Prince Sawara’s vengeful spirit (Onryo in Japanese) the decision was taken to move the capital once again.

    The Emperor would learn, however, that freeing himself from the influence of powerful priests wasn’t going to be the great liberation he had hoped for, but more on that later.

    The Imperial Army

    We’ve not looked at military stuff very much so far, mostly because there is going to be a lot of that later, but a quick look at the Imperial Army and the war with the Emishi is important for what’s coming.

    Decades before the move to Heian-kyo, the Taika Reforms had led to a restructuring of the young nation’s military. Prior to the reforms, military power was in the hands of regional strongmen (politely called ‘nobility’), whose power was usually based around fortified settlements and the surrounding lands.

    With the Taika Reforms, however, the Imperial Government, inspired by Tang Dynasty China, instituted a system of conscription. The idea was that military power would pass from the hands of the nobles into the hands of the Emperor.

    It didn’t really work out that way, though. Firstly, the burden, as it so often does, fell on the poor, as those with sufficient resources could buy or trade their way out of service (corruption may also have been an issue). Since the poor are generally tied to the land, this led to people fleeing their home regions to avoid the army, with the knock-on effect being fewer people in the fields.

    Another issue was that conscription, by its nature, relies on men who don’t actually want to be there. There are examples throughout history of military service being a way out of economic hardship, but that doesn’t seem to have been so here. Men assigned to the frontier were expected to pay for their own equipment and provisions, meaning that the little money they might earn in the army was quickly spent simply being in the army.

    It is perhaps unsurprising then that the Imperial Army was poorly equipped and badly motivated. This wouldn’t have been much of a problem had their role simply been to keep the peace, but the early Emperors were expansionists, so their poorly motivated army was kept busy.

    The Emishi

    Who were the Emishi? Well, as is often the case, there isn’t a definitive answer. The earliest records we have for them are Chinese and date to the 5th Century, where there is mention of “55 Kingdoms” of “Hairy People of the East”. Exactly who these people were isn’t clear, but they are distinct from the “Japanese” kingdoms that are also recorded.

    It is generally believed that the Emishi were linked to the Jomon, who inhabited Japan before the Yayoi (who became the Yamato and so on). It is also accepted that the Ainu are also connected to the Emishi, but the exact relationship is unclear and may never be known for certain.

    What is certain is that the Emishi proved to be an opponent that the Yamato initially struggled to overcome. Whilst the independent peoples in Kyushu were subjugated fairly early on (either through force or diplomacy), the Emishi remained largely independent into the 8th Century.

    The Yamato State in the 4th Century. Although the Kumaso and Hayato people would be absorbed, the Emishi would prove far more durable.
    By Samhanin – Own work, source: Yamato ja.png, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=121731575

    The Emishi would prove to be resistant to traditional military strategy. They relied on horse archery, using speed and guerilla tactics to defy the Yamato. For most of the 7th and 8th centuries, the Yamato would advance slowly, building forts as they went and dealing with individual Emishi tribes, some of whom would agree to enter Imperial service.

    In 774, the so-called Thirty-eight Years War began when the Emishi launched a series of attacks on Yamato forts in Northern Japan. The Emishi would prove to be successful at first; imperial armies were gathered quickly and sent against the Emishi, only for the Emishi themselves to melt away and reappear somewhere else. Forts, Towns, and Villages were burned, and through the 780’s, the situation spiralled out of control.

    The war would go on for 38 years (hence the name), and it would be a combination of diplomacy and a change in strategy that eventually led to Yamato’s victory and dominance of the North.

    Militarily, the Yamato adopted the mounted archery tactics of their enemy. This couldn’t be done with conscripts from the back end of nowhere, but the local nobility, who had been dealing with the Emishi for years already, were quicker to catch on, and these “Emishi-busting” armies were often smaller, faster moving, and, most importantly, loyal to their local communities over the Imperial Court.

    By the 790s, the strain of constant campaigns against the Emishi had led to a breakdown in the system of conscription. The people didn’t want to be sent to fight, and the Imperial Court couldn’t afford to send them, meaning that military strength now rested entirely in the hands of local nobility, but I’m sure that’ll be fine.

    On the diplomatic front, the Yamato reached out to the tribes who might agree to switch sides, and unsurprisingly, many would. The leaders of these tribes were quickly integrated into local nobility, and it is said that several later Clans could trace their ancestry to Emishi progenitors.

    By the dawn of the 9th century, the Emishi were largely dealt with. Those who had submitted were subsumed by Yamato culture, and over the years, they would become indistinguishable from other Japanese. Those who refused to submit, however, were either destroyed or driven north to Hokkaido, where they would play no further part in the Heian story.

    Now what?

    So, the Emishi are beaten, the Empire has won, and all is right in the world. I’m sure that the fact that military power has fallen completely out of imperial hands into the lap of a regionally powerful nobility that controls not only the military but the economic levers of power after the collapse of central taxation led to a system that relies almost entirely on agricultural output to support itself won’t lead to any problems, will it?

    There’s that foreshadowing again.

    Sources

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heian_period
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heian-ky%C5%8D
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Kanmu
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nagaoka-ky%C5%8D
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emishi
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fujiwara_no_Kamatari
    https://fee.org/articles/were-japans-taika-reforms-a-good-idea/