After the disastrous Battle of Mikatagahara in January 1573, contemporaries might have been forgiven for thinking that Tokugawa Ieyasu was finished. His army had been defeated and scattered, several important fortresses had fallen, and Takeda forces were camped deep inside his home province of Mikawa.
The Battle of Mikatagahara was a disaster from which Ieyasu might not have recovered.
Fate, however, was on Ieyasu’s side. Though Mikatagahara had been a catastrophe, the Takeda would prove unable to take advantage of their victory. Not long after the Battle, Takeda Shingen, arguably the most formidable warrior of his day, fell ill (some sources say he was wounded in battle, though later stories of Ninja assassinations are likely mythological).
With their leader bedridden, the Takeda campaign stalled. They tried to keep the full extent of his illness secret, but when Shingen died in May, the once-mighty Takeda army began a full retreat from Mikawa. The Art of War writes that a general should know his enemy, and Ieyasu, student of war that he was, seems to have realised that something was amiss.
An image depicting Shingen’s illness. He was arguably the most formidable warlord of his day, and his death was a huge strategic boon to the Tokugawa.
Under Shingen, the Takeda were aggressive and highly capable, but after his (still secret) death, Ieyasu identified several weaknesses and launched a counter-attack, the success of which effectively confirmed his theory that Shingen was gone. With the momentum swinging back towards the Tokugawa, several clans that had defected to the Takeda switched sides again, and Ieyasu was able to swiftly regain the strength lost at Mikatagahara.
Shingen’s successor, Katsuyori, has been remembered as a poor imitation of his father, though much of what was recorded about him was written by his enemies. In the short term, however, Katsuyori and Ieyasu were fairly evenly matched, and throughout 1574 and into 1575, they traded blows, with the momentum shifting back and forth.
Takeda Katsuyori. Though perhaps unfairly maligned in later writings, he would prove unable to live up to his father’s legacy.
Ieyasu had something that Katsuyori didn’t, however, a powerful ally. The death of Shingen had removed a serious (possibly existential) threat to the ambitions of Oda Nobunaga, and in 1575, he was finally able to dispatch significant forces to support Ieyasu’s ongoing campaign against the Takeda.
In early 1575, Takeda forces once again advanced against Mikawa province, laying siege to the strategically important Nagashino Castle. Sources suggest that the Takeda invested the castle with 15,000 men, whilst the defenders numbered only 500. Despite the disparity in strength, the fortress was situated in terrain that made it difficult for the Takeda to bring their full forces to bear, and for a time, the garrison held out.
The site of Nagashino Castle as it appears today.
The situation changed dramatically, however, when the garrison’s food supplies were burned. In response, a messenger, Torii Suneemon, slipped through Takeda’s lines and made it to a combined Oda-Tokugawa army that was supposed to have numbered some 38,000 men (30,000 Oda and 8,000 Tokugawa, which goes some way to demonstrating the power dynamic in this ‘alliance’.)
Suneemon then tried to return to Nagashino to inform the garrison that help was on the way, but he was instead captured by the Takeda. Katsuyori offered him a deal: if he told the garrison that no help was coming, he’d be set free. Instead, Sunemon shouted that relief was on the way, and the garrison should hold out, for which he was crucified in full view of the walls.
A later (and somewhat dramatised) depiction of Suneemon exhorting the garrison of Nagashino to keep resisting.
When the Oda-Tokugawa forces arrived two days later, the garrison was still holding out, and the Takeda turned to give battle. Although the Battle of Nagashino is one of the most famous and decisive battles of the Sengoku Jidai, scholars disagree on what actually happened. Nagashino has long been famous for Nobunaga’s innovative use of massed firearms, with thousands of foot soldiers firing in a three-rank system that kept up a constant hail of fire that decimated the Takeda’s famous cavalry charge.
The exact number of firearms and the tactics used are still debated, but what is known for sure is that Nagashino represented a blow to the Takeda Clan from which they would never recover. In the aftermath, both Ieyasu and Nobunaga moved to take advantage, extending their control over Suruga and Totomi Provinces, and boxing the Takeda up in their traditional home in Kai and Shinano Province (modern Yamanashi and Nagano prefectures)
An 18th-century depiction of the Battle of Nagashino, with the Oda-Tokugawa forces on the left, and Nagashino Castle on the far right.
Though Ieyasu had been on the winning side, the victory over the Takeda would mark the time when his relationship with Nobunaga ceased to be an alliance of equals. There was no disputing Nobunaga’s power by this point, and the resources at his disposal dwarfed anything Ieyasu could deploy. Consequently, in the aftermath of Nagashino, Ieyasu found himself a vassal to the Great Lord.
Perhaps the best evidence of how far the relationship had shifted came in 1579, when, on Nobunaga’s order, Ieyasu had his wife and eldest son put to death on suspicion of conspiring with the Takeda to arrange Nobunaga’s assassination.
Ieyasu’s first wife, Lady Tsukiyama.
The long-held theory was that Lady Tsukiyama, Ieyasu’s wife, and his eldest son, Nobuyasu, were indeed conspiring with the Takeda. Some sources portray Lady Tsukiyama as a scheming, evil woman who seduced men into joining her plot, whilst Nobuyasu is said to have been a cruel, vindictive psychopath who committed acts such as shooting random peasants dead during festivals for no reason other than that they danced poorly.
The catalyst for their death was apparently Nobunaga’s daughter, Tokuhime, who just so happened to be married to Nobuyasu. It is said that she hated her mother-in-law so much that she concocted the entire plot to have both of them removed.
Ieyasu’s eldest son, Nobuyasu, who was either a traitor, a violent lunatic, the victim of a vindictive wife, or a combination of all three, depending on who you believe.
There is another school of thought that suggests Nobunaga had nothing to do with the incident and that Ieyasu and Nobuyasu were instead engaged in a long-term feud. Nobuyasu, apparently supported by his mother, is said to have defied his father’s orders and even been plotting open rebellion, with or without the support of the Takeda.
Faced with such a direct threat to his authority, Ieyasu sought the advice of his overlord, Nobunaga (who also happened to be Nobuyasu’s father in law), who is said to have instructed that, as the matter was an internal family affair, that Ieyasu should do as he thought best, resulting in the execution of Lady Tsukiyama, and Nobuyasu’s seppuku.
Whether Nobunaga gave the order or Ieyasu acted on his own initiative, this incident highlights the situation Ieyasu faced in the late 1570s. Subordinate to Nobunaga’s power, and insecure at home, despite his successes, there was still no reason to believe that Ieyasu was going to be anything other than a footnote in another man’s story.
The Battle of Okehazama in 1560 saw Tokugawa Ieyasu’s masters, the Imagawa, dealt a serious blow at the hands of Oda Nobunaga. In the aftermath, Ieyasu began asserting his independence, and in 1562, the so-called “Kiyosu Alliance” between Ieyasu and Nobunaga was formalised.
The Imagawa, however, were down, but not out, and Ieyasu’s position was far from secure, despite his new alliance. In 1563, the “Mikawa Ikko-Ikki” Rebellion broke out, and in early 1564, when the Imagawa announced their intention to crush Ieyasu, several of his vassals in Mikawa switched sides, joining the Ikko-Ikki or else rising against Ieyasu in anticipation of an Imagawa attack.
The name “Ikko-Ikki” suggests that the uprising was similar to other religiously motivated risings that occurred throughout Japan during this period. Indeed, the focal point seems to have been several temples in Mikawa; however, some scholars now suggest that the uprising was motivated more by economic reasons, and some even go so far as to say that Ieyasu may have provoked the rising, or at least took advantage of it to cement his control of Mikawa Province.
A later depiction of the Battle of Azukizaka. Ieyasu is the figure on the white horse on the right.
While it’s impossible to know for sure, Ieyasu did much to boost his own reputation in putting down the rebellion. At the Battle of Azukizaka (sometimes called the Battle of Batogahara) in January 1564, Ieyasu led his forces in crushing the rebels, despite ferocious fighting. The story goes that Ieyasu charged the enemy fearlessly, and came under heavy gunfire, with several rounds penetrating his armour, but leaving him uninjured, inspiring his men, and leading some rebels to switch sides.
In the aftermath, Ieyasu banned the Jodo Shinshu sect of Buddhism in Mikawa, only to lift the ban in 1567, just a few years later, lending credence to the argument that the fighting had never been about religious issues but about political control of the province.
The Honshuji Temple, one of the focal points of the rebellion, as it appears today.
Before 1566, Ieyasu’s family name was Matsudaira, but around this time, he petitioned the Emperor to change it to Tokugawa. The exact reasons for this are related to the complex (and often impenetrable) genealogies of the Minamoto and Fujiwara Clans, from whom Ieyasu claimed descent. You may remember that Minamoto and Fujiwara were the names of two of Japan’s most ancient and illustrious families, and it was a big deal to claim descent from them.
This would become much more important later, as only a member of the Minamoto could become Shogun (technically), but that was still decades in the future. At the time, the name change was probably more closely associated with prestige and a desire to assert independence from the Imagawa, with a new name symbolising a new era for the clan.
Takeda Shingen.
In 1567, Ieyasu further strengthened his alliance with Nobunaga by marrying his eldest son to Nobunaga’s daughter. However, they were both just nine years old at the time, so the marriage was a political rather than conjugal union. The next year, Ieyasu dispatched forces to support Nobunaga’s march on Kyoto, and in December, he made an alliance with Takeda Shingen and launched a joint invasion of Imagawa territory.
The attack was a success, but the relationship between Ieyasu and Shingen fell apart almost immediately. According to Tokugawa accounts, it had been agreed that Ieyasu would take Totomi Province, and Shingen would take Suruga. However, it wasn’t long before Takeda forces were also crossing into Totomi, in direct violation of the agreement (which may never have existed to begin with).
Ieyasu then sought the support of the Hojo Clan, and their Lord, Ujiyasu, who had his own ambitions for the former Imagawa territory. Together, they successfully pushed the Takeda forces back, and in 1570, Ieyasu moved his base from Okazaki Castle in Mikawa Province to Hikuma, which he promptly renamed Hamamatsu, in Totomi. Later that year, he would further prove his value as an ally of Oda Nobunaga by supporting his campaign against the Azai-Asakura Alliance, fighting in the rearguard in the defeat at Kanegasaki, and then providing important reinforcements at the victorious Battle of Anegawa in July.
In 1571, the alliance would be sorely tested, as the last Ashikaga Shogun, Yoshiaki, sought to rally forces in opposition to Oda Nobunaga, with the ultimate goal of restoring his family’s position. The Anti-Nobunaga coalition (which was, importantly, not necessarily pro-Ashikaga) included the forces of the Azai-Asakura Alliance, the powerful temple of Ishiyama Honganji, and Takeda Shingen, among others.
Ashikaga Yoshiaki
In the aftermath of the defeat of the Imagawa, Hojo Ujiyasu, who had favoured an alliance with Ieyasu against the Takeda, died and was replaced by his son, Ujimasa, who reversed his clan’s diplomatic position and reestablished the alliance with Shingen. At this point, Yoshikai, seeking to take advantage of the pressure he was now under, sought to gain Ieyasu’s support, offering him the position of Kanrei or deputy Shogun in exchange.
Ieyasu refused this offer and chose to retain his alliance with Nobunaga; in response, Takeda Shingen launched an invasion of the Mikawa and Totomi Provinces in September 1572. Leading 20,000 troops, Shingen crossed the Aokuzure Pass, and with the help of several defections amongst Ieyasu’s retainers, swiftly gained control of northern Totomi.
A later depiction of the Takeda Army advancing into Totomi Province.
Meanwhile, a separate force invaded Nobunaga’s territory in Mino, meaning that when Ieyasu called for aid, none was readily available. Ieyasu was forced into an impossible situation; his forces were heavily outnumbered by the advancing Takeda, and a pitched battle would almost certainly end in defeat. On the other hand, if he retreated or even stayed on the defensive, he faced the prospect of losing support from his retainers, some of whom had already proved they were willing to switch sides.
The Takeda headed towards the strategically important Futamata Castle, and Ieyasu had no choice but to try to head them off. The advance guards of both armies clashed at the Battle of Hitokotozaka, and the Tokugawa were soundly beaten, causing them to retreat to the relative safety of Hamamatsu, and giving the Takeda a clear path to lay siege to Futamata, which fell shortly afterwards.
In the aftermath of this disaster, still more Tokugawa retainers switched sides and joined the Takeda, and it was assumed that Shingen, whose army, strengthened by defections and reinforcements, now stood at around 30,000 men, would march on Hamamatsu. Instead, the Takeda forces bypassed it entirely. It has been suggested that this was a ploy to lure Ieyasu out of the powerful fortress, giving Shingen the opportunity to destroy him in the open.
If that was the plan, it worked, and despite urging from his retainers to remain in Hamamatsu, Ieyasu was emboldened by some long-awaited reinforcements from Nobunaga and decided to march out and intercept the Takeda. The result was the disastrous Battle of Mikatagahara, in which the Tokugawa were decisively defeated, with Ieyasu himself only being saved by the bravery of his retainers, who fought a rearguard action so ferocious that Ieyasu was allowed to escape, and the Takeda were convinced to call off the pursuit.
A later depiction of the Battle of Mikatagahara
The winter of 1572 saw the Takeda forces camping deep inside Tokugawa territory, whilst Ieyasu himself was holed up in Hamamatsu, his army scattered, and his prospects looking very bleak.
A painting of Ieyasu supposedly made after the defeat at Mikatagahara. Traditional history suggests that Ieyasu commissioned the painting as a reminder of the defeat and a warning against future arrogance; however, this account doesn’t appear in any sources before the 20th century and is now generally believed to be apocryphal.
By the late 1580s, Hideyoshi was at the very pinnacle of political and military power in Japan. Jesuit records from the time name him “tyrant” and suggest that he has achieved more power over the realm than any warlord before him.
After the successful conclusion of the Kyushu Campaign, Hideyoshi ordered a new palace built in Kyoto. Called Jurakudai (or Jurakutei in some sources), Toyotomi moved his political base there from Osaka Castle in early 1588, inviting the Emperor Go-Yozei for a feast in April 1588 and obliging powerful Daimyo (such as Tokugawa Ieyasu) to travel there and pay homage to him.
An image of the Emperor visiting Jurakudai.
Having secured personal political power, Hideyoshi then turned his attention to pacifying the realm at large. Through his military campaigns, he had subdued most of the powerful Daimyo in the realm, but there remained the issue of establishing peace at the local level as well.
The Sengoku Jidai exists in the popular imagination as more than a century of conflict, featuring epic clashes between armies of Samurai loyal unto death, and iconic lords like Takeda Shingen, Oda Nobunaga, and Uesugi Kenshin, who were locked in a titanic struggle for ultimate control of the realm.
Uesugi Kenshin and Takeda Shingen engaged in a duel that probably never happened but remains an enduring, if inaccurate, image of the Sengoku-era battlefield.
Whilst there is certainly truth to this image, much like any period of civil war, Japanese society at large had become incredibly violent during the 16th century. At the local level, the decentralised nature of Daimyo rule led to the emergence of Jizamurai, literally “Local Samurai”. These men often started out as armed peasants, usually levied into the armies of some local lord, and sent home again when the campaign ended.
Throughout the 16th century, these Jizamurai gradually achieved military and political influence over their local communities, often being allowed to collect tax revenue on behalf of their lord in exchange for military service, similar to a Knightly Manor in medieval Europe.
This situation worked fine whilst the realm was fractured into dozens of minor domains, but as consolidation followed conquest in the latter half of the 16th century, tensions between “Samurai” and “Jizamurai” became more of an issue. When a lord was defeated, he was usually killed or deprived of his land, meaning that the Jizamurai would often find themselves serving a new lord to whom they had no personal loyalty, leading to frequent conflicts.
Ashigaru on campaign. By the late 16th century, the distinction between Warrior and Peasant was often unclear to the point of being non-existent.
On a societal level, the distinction between Jizamurai and peasants was often academic. Though technically of a higher social status, a Jizamurai usually lived in the village, amongst the peasantry, who would themselves often have access to weaponry and a far greater loyalty to their local Jizamurai than to some powerful Daimyo whom they never saw.
This led to frequent Peasant Uprisings throughout the Sengoku Period, most famously the Ikko-Ikki, who were motivated by religious fervour but were largely made up of peasants and Jizamurai. It wasn’t just political violence; feuds between villages were common and often escalated into violence, as rival communities would quickly resort to the sword to settle disputes over territory, waterways, and other local matters.
In 1587, Hideyoshi passed a law forbidding the use of force to resolve such disputes. Though the exact wording of the law has been lost, by looking at the wording of laws from the later Edo Period, which often referred to ‘precedents’ (i.e., earlier laws), we can infer what Hideyoshi’s decrees may have looked like.
If any villagers or other people in a village engage in a dispute over mountains or waters, using bows, spears, or guns to fight amongst themselves, that entire village shall be punished. – From a decree by Shogun Tokugawa Hidetada -1610
Scholars debate exactly what Hideyoshi intended with this law, with some suggesting that he meant to disarm and pacify the peasants, whilst others say it was more to do with establishing who had weapons, and who had the right to weapons, part of an ongoing centralisation campaign in which a clearer line was to be drawn between Warrior and Peasant.
In 1589, Hideyoshi celebrated the birth of a son, Tsurumatsu, whom he swiftly named as his heir, securing his dynasty for the foreseeable future. The following year, after a series of political slights, he launched a decisive campaign against the Hojo, lords of the Kanto, crushing them in the Odawara Campaign.
A later, heavily stylised depiction of Hideyoshi’s son, Tsurumatsu.
Also in 1590, he crushed the defiant clans of Northern Japan in a swift campaign, and it is at this point that the “Sengoku Jidai” is said to have come to an end. For the first time in more than a century, the country was under the control of one man, and the realm would never again fracture as it once had. Despite this, one decision made by Hideyoshi in the aftermath of the Odawara Campaign had already sown the seeds of his clan’s ultimate downfall.
With the destruction of the Hojo, Hideyoshi offered the five provinces of the Kanto to Tokugawa Ieyasu, in exchange for the three he had originally ruled. At the time, this move was seen as political savvy. It positioned the potentially rebellious Ieyasu farther from Kyoto, and though the five Kanto provinces were nominally richer than the three Ieyasu had given up, they had recently been conquered and were potentially volatile, meaning the move weakened Ieyasu in the short term.
Tokugawa Ieyasu.
Hideyoshi, however, had not considered Ieyasu’s political and economic acumen. His base in the Kanto would eventually serve as a springboard for his own rise to power, demonstrated perhaps most clearly by the fact that Japan’s modern capital, Tokyo, is on the same site as Ieyasu’s was, more than 430 years after he moved there, but we’re getting ahead of ourselves.
The threat from Ieyasu was not Hideyoshi’s only concern, however. In 1591, his brother, Hidenaga, who had proven to be an extremely competent commander and political ally, died in February, followed by his son and heir, the two-year-old Tsurumatsu, in September of the same year.
Toyotomi Hidenaga
Following these deep personal and political blows, Hideyoshi adopted his nephew, Hidetsugu, and then retired, handing control of the clan over to him. As was common at the time, Hideyoshi retained true political power; however, becoming known as the Taiko, a title of respect for former regents.
Also in 1591, with Japan secured, Hideyoshi announced his intention to invade China, launching a brutal invasion of Korea to use it as a base for his main objective. We’ll give the Korean Wars their own post, but for now, we can say that the invasions both highlighted Hideyoshi’s power and brought about political divisions that would ultimately destroy his legacy.
In 1586, the powerful Tensho Earthquake brought about a temporary halt to Hideyoshi’s campaign to subdue the entire realm. In the aftermath, he had made peace with, then accepted the formal submission of Tokugawa Ieyasu, and now turned his attention to Japan’s southern island, Kyushu.
Kyushu.
As we’ve looked at in previous posts, the most powerful clan in Kyushu at this time were the Shimazu, who were on the verge of conquering the entire island, and were putting enormous pressure on their long-term rivals, the Otomo, who reached out to Hideyoshi for help. Hideyoshi responded by issuing a ceasefire order, the sobujirei, though scholars disagree if this was an order issued on a case-by-case basis, or a formal law brought in my Hideyoshi.
Regardless of the legal basis, the Otomo swiftly agreed, but the Shimazu remained defiant, with the head of the clan, Shimazu Yoshihisa, going as far as suggesting that the Shimazu, a clan with its long and proud lineage, would never submit to a peasant ‘upstart’ like Hideyoshi. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Hideyoshi didn’t take kindly to this and so ordered the invasion of Kyushu, officially in support of the Otomo.
A statue of Shimazu Yoshihisa. He was the head of a proud clan and believed he had no reason to fear the ‘upstart’ Hideyoshi. He would be proved wrong. Ginger1192 – 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=24854517による
At first, Hideyoshi seems to have tried to avoid committing his own troops to the invasion, instead relying on forces provided by the Mori, Chosokabe and their vassals to do the bulk of the fighting. This strategy may have been wise from a manpower preservation point of view, but the Shimazu proved more than capable of living up to their lineage, defeating the initial landings and giving Hideyoshi the proverbial bloody nose in the process.
Much like the independent clans of Kii Province and the Chosokabe of Shikoku, however, the Shimazu were about to learn that Hideyoshi was a different kind of ruler, able to marshal resources that even the might of Kyushu could not hope to match. Taking the field himself, Hideyoshi is said to have amassed an army of some 300,000, with all the requisite supplies and resources to support such a massive force.
Ashigaru. Far from the popular image of massed ranks of ferocious samurai, armies in the late Sengoku Period were largely made up of semi-professional troops armed with firearms, spears, and mass-produced swords.
This was possibly the largest army ever assembled in Japan before the modern era (though sources vary), and the Shimazu were swiftly overwhelmed. It is important to note that, despite the overwhelming advantage in numbers, Hideyoshi’s force was not a single, massive bludgeon. He had proven himself a skilled strategist, able to deploy significant force in key areas, using innovative tactics to wear down defenders and capture strategic castles and other territory, rarely relying on brute force to break enemy forces.
The Shimazu, much like the Chosokabe before them, fought bravely, but they were outmatched from the start, and eventually, Yoshihisa, who had claimed his clan would never submit to an ‘upstart’, was forced to seek peace. The terms were harsh; the Shimazu were forced to give up almost all of Kyushu, and were confined to Satsuma Province in the southwest of the island (in the western half of modern Kagoshima Prefecture).
The rest of Kyushu was divided up amongst Hideyoshi’s supporters, with the Otomo (who the invasion had nominally been in support of) receiving some, but not all of their lands back.
It is at this point that Hideyoshi turned his attention to a group that have only been briefly mentioned thus far, but who had a significant presence on Kyushu, the Jesuits. We’ll have a detailed look at Portuguese activities in Japan in their own post, but to summarise, after the first arrival of Portuguese merchants in Japan in 1543, they had slowly, but steadily expanded their influence through commerical interests, and the spread of Christianity, ultimately being based at the port of Nagasaki.
A contemporary depiction of a Portuguese trading ship of a type commonly seen at Nagasaki.
Outside of Kyushu, the attitude of powerful Daimyo towards these Christians seems to have been fairly ambivalent, with most tolerating their presence, but few converting to the foreign religion. Hideyoshi himself issued permits for Christian priests to preach their religion in Osaka, and, according to some sources, he asked Jesuit Priest Gaspar Coelho to assist him in building an armada to be used in the conquest of China once Japan had been unified.
This changed after the subjugation of Kyushu. Sources differ on exactly what occurred, with some blaming the machinations of the native Japanese Buddhist clergy, but the short version is that Hideyoshi became aware of the fact that Nagasaki had effectively been handed over to complete Portuguese control. They had fortified it and were apparently using it as a port through which non-Christian Japanese were sold out of the country as slaves.
A contemporary image of Portuguese at Nagasaki. Though the trade was primarily in silks, spices, and silver, rumours of Japanese slaves being transported out of the country were enough to earn Hideyoshi’s ire.
The issue of Japanese being sold as slaves by Portuguese merchants remains controversial (surprise, surprise), with debates raging over the extent of the practice and how involved the Japanese themselves were. There are contemporary sources which indicate that Japanese slaves could be found across Asia, and the concept of ‘unfree labour’ was already well established in Japan at this time, ranging from effective serfdom to labourers convicted to a term of service as punishment for a crime.
Another issue is that one of the primary sources describing Portuguese involvement in slavery also describes them as a people that skin cows and horses alive, and eat the meat raw with their bare hands, suggesting that the purpose of such ‘records’ was more about demonising the Portuguese than recording actual events.
A contemporary depiction of Portuguese in Japan. Though not all sources paint them in a negative light, the foreign visitors were often looked on as strange and even barbarous by comparison.
Regardless of how extensive the trade was, it provided a convenient enough excuse for Hideyoshi to act. Though highlighting the fortifications at Nagasaki, and the selling of Japanese as slaves, modern historians more generally agree that the move against the Christians was more about consolidating power, as Hideyoshi believed that Christian theology was a direct threat to the traditional Japanese belief in a divine Emperor, from whom Hideyoshi’s power ultimately derived.
Another theory is that Hideyoshi wanted to control trade with the West, believing (erroneously) that the trade was controlled by the Jesuits, when in reality, religious and commercial interests were separate, and often in conflict (the Jesuits, for example, actively opposed enslaving Japanese) This theory suggests that Hideyoshi hoped that removing the priests would allow him to take direct control of the trade.
A contemporary image of a Christian Mass in Japan. Hideyoshi believed that the priests controlled the merchants.
Whether he was motivated by political, religious, or economic reasons (or all three), Hideyoshi issued what became known as the Bateren expulsion order (bateren being the Japanese word for Christian priests, derived from the Latin Patren) in 1587. What followed was a brief campaign of repression against Christianity; the Jesuit base in Kyoto was burned, and territory around Nagasaki was seized.
Ultimately, however, Hideyoshi seems to have largely ignored his own order, keeping several Christian priests as interpreters and scribes, and allowing trade to continue practically unmolested. For now, at least, Hideyoshi had bigger problems than Christian priests.
Despite an ultimately unsuccessful campaign against Tokugawa Ieyasu, by late 1584, Hideyoshi was the most powerful man in the realm. Having secured his position as Oda Nobunaga’s successor, he dominated central Japan and could call on economic and martial resources that dwarfed those of his rivals.
Despite this, he was not yet unchallenged. To the west, the Mori remained undefeated, to the east, was Tokugawa Ieyasu, and further away, the Hojo, who had remained untouched by Nobunaga’s conquests, and to the south, in Kii Province, the locals coalesced around fiercely independent religious and social movements that resisted any attempts to impose central rule.
Meanwhile, Hideyoshi solidified his political power, being elevated to the Third Rank of the nobility in November 1584 and to the Second Rank in March 1585. Around this time, some sources suggest that the Imperial Court even went so far as to offer him the title of Shogun, only for Hideyoshi to refuse, though the exact nature of the offer, if it existed at all, is unclear.
With his position secured, Hideyoshi turned his attention to Kii Province. We’ve spoken about the power of certain religious institutions before, and nowhere was this more apparent than in Kii (sometimes called Kishu). Luis Frois, a well-known Portuguese writer at the time, referred to the area as under the control of five “Great Republics”, which weren’t democracies in the way we’d recognise today, but were strongly independent polities with extensive territories, economic might, and military strength.
In 1570, Nobunaga began what would prove to be a long campaign against the power of the Ikko-Ikki, based at Honganji Temple. The warrior monks of Kii Province were a key ally of the Ikko-Ikki, and in 1576, Nobunaga dispatched an army against them, aiming to reduce their ability to support his enemies elsewhere.
A semi-contemporary depiction of Nobunaga’s attempts to subdue Kii Province.
Despite being defeated on the battlefield, the warriors of Kii engaged in guerrilla warfare, led most famously by the Saika-shu, an organisation made up of local samurai and mercenaries, which was well known for its heavy (and skilful) use of firearms. Nobunaga eventually signed a peace treaty and withdrew, allowing his enemies to claim that they had actually defeated him.
Nobunaga’s death in 1582 put an end to any further campaigning, and for a time, at least, Kii Province was left alone, though no one believed the peace would last. In early spring 1586, Hideyoshi, at the head of an army of some 100,000 men, invaded with the intention of crushing the independent ‘Republics’ for good.
A depiction of Hideyoshi’s attack on Kii Province.
The campaign was a true demonstration of Hideyoshi’s new power. Though the Saika-shu and others fought bravely, they were swiftly overwhelmed. Some scholars speculate that the Saika and their allies underestimated Hideyoshi. In the earlier Sengoku Period, it had often been enough to inflict heavy casualties in an initial battle, which would force the attackers to either negotiate or back off.
These tactics had worked against Nobunaga, who had ultimately been unable to secure decisive control over Kii, for fear of tying down too many men. Hideyoshi had no such hesitation, and even though his losses were heavy, he kept pushing on, and the Saika, who were often hugely outnumbered, were swept aside.
Firearms of the type used effectively, but ultimately unsuccessfully by the Saika-shu.
Hideyoshi was able to secure control of Kii in the short term, but his hold over it was always fragile, and there would be several more outbreaks of rebellion in the coming years. In fact, it wouldn’t be until 1614, long after Hideyoshi had passed away, that Kii could be truly said to have been pacified.
After this, Hideyoshi turned his attention to Shikoku and the powerful Chosokabe Clan. Once allies of Nobunaga, the Chosokabe had fallen foul of his ambitions and had been under threat of invasion at the time of his death at Honnoji.
An army under Nobunaga’s third son, Nobutaka, had been gathered at Sumiyoshi (in modern Osaka) with the purpose of attacking Shikoku; in fact, they had been meant to set out on the same day that Nobunaga was killed, and news of his death demoralised the army, some of which simply went home.
In the aftermath of Nobunaga’s death, the Chosokabe had consolidated control of all of Shikoku and lent support to opponents of Hideyoshi, notably Shibata Katsuie, Tokugawa Ieyasu, and the Saika-shu of Kii Province. None of these enemies had been able to overcome Hideyoshi, however, and it was probably no surprise when he turned his vengeful eye on the Chosokabe themselves.
Chosokabe Motochika, Lord of the Chosokabe at the time of Hideyoshi’s invasion.
There were some attempts at negotiation, but Hideyoshi’s demands that the Chosokabe give up three of the four provinces of Shikoku were unacceptable. The strategic situation for the Chosokabe was made worse when the Mori, one-time antagonists of Hideyoshi, instead made a permanent peace with him. Some sources suggest that it was at this point that the Mori submitted to Hideyoshi outright.
With the support of the Mori and their powerful navy, Hideyoshi launched a three-pronged attack on Shikoku, which the Chosokabe were hard-pressed to oppose. Outnumbered some 3 to 1, the Chosokabe fought bravely, but the campaign was over quickly. From June to August 1585, there was a series of battles and sieges that invariably resulted in Chosokabe defeat.
A 19th-century depiction of the Invasion of Shikoku.
Eventually, despite claiming he would rather fight to the end, Chosokabe Motochika surrendered at the urging of his senior vassals. As punishment for his defiance (or reward for his surrender), Hideyoshi confiscated three of the four Shikoku Provinces, leaving the Chosokabe with their home province of Tosa and an obligation to provide Hideyoshi with up to 3,000 troops for any future campaign and hostages to ensure the peace.
During the Shikoku Campaign, which was led by his brother, Hideyoshi was appointed Kampaku by the Imperial Court. This was a result of a political crisis that had been ongoing since before Nobunaga’s death in 1582. At the time, the Imperial Court had (allegedly) invited Nobunaga to become Shogun, or Kampaku (Regent). Both contemporary and modern scholars disagree on Nobunaga’s response to this offer, but his death in June of that year ultimately rendered it moot.
Emperor Go-Yozei, who was the sovereign during this time.
What followed was a drawn-out political squabble between rival factions at court over who would ultimately take the position of Regent. We’ve spent a lot of time looking at how the Imperial Court was a decorative but ultimately impotent organisation by this point, and any title the Emperor might bestow would be largely symbolic without any external political power to back it up.
Into this silk-clad quagmire stepped Hideyoshi. Traditionally, the position of Regent had rotated amongst five prestigious warrior families, of which Hideyoshi was not a member. To overcome this issue (which was one of tradition, rather than law), he was formally adopted as the son of Konoe Sakahisa (who was less than a year older than him) in July 1585, being named Kampaku shortly afterwards.
There was supposedly an agreement in which the childless Hideyoshi would take the position as a temporary solution to the crisis, before handing it over to the Konoe family’s chosen heir at a later date. Hideyoshi had other ideas, however. In 1586, he petitioned the Emperor for a new family name, which the Emperor duly bestowed. From then on, Hideyoshi would be known as Toyotomi Hideyoshi, the name by which he is best remembered in English sources.
Hideyoshi would then adopt the Emperor’s younger brother, Prince Hachijo, as his son and eventual successor. This was a clear breach of the agreement with the Konoe, but since Hideyoshi was the most powerful man in the realm, and the proposed heir was a member of the Imperial Family, there was nothing anyone could do about it.
Prince Hachijo
Hideyoshi went further, seeking to replace the powerless Imperial aristocracy with a new “Samurai Nobility”. For centuries, the ‘Nobles’ had held all the prestige, but practically none of the actual power, which was in the hands of the Samurai after long years of civil war.
Hideyoshi sought to address this by bestowing titles on some of the other powerful Daimyo, including Tokugawa Ieyasu and Ishida Mitsunari, appointments that would have long-term political repercussions.
Ishida Mitsunari, we haven’t talked about him much, but he’s going to become very important later.
Another attempt was made to force obedience from Ieyasu when Hideyoshi demanded that he hand over hostages to ensure ongoing peace. Ieyasu refused, and Hideyoshi began planning a large-scale military campaign to finally bring Ieyasu to heel. The massive Tensho Earthquake in January 1586 caused severe damage to Hideyoshi’s capital at Osaka and several other castles and staging areas, bringing an end to the plans, and causing Hideyoshi to adopt a more conciliatory policy towards Ieyasu.
A monument at the site of Kaerikumo Castle, which was destroyed in a landslide during the 1586 earthquake. The evidence of the landslide can be seen on the hill in the background.
Later that year, Ieyasu would marry Hideyoshi’s younger sister, Princess Asahi, and he would later travel to Kyoto and swear allegiance to Hideyoshi as Regent. Despite this nominal submission, Hideyoshi had failed to subdue Ieyasu, whose military power remained intact.
Hideyoshi’s victory over Nobunaga’s killer, Akechi Mitsuhide, left him in a strong, but far from unchallenged position. Though Hideyoshi was arguably the strongest of Nobunaga’s remaining supporters, his power was not so great that he could overcome the others on the battlefield.
Instead, a conference was called at Kiyosu Castle on July 16th, 1582. Historians still debate exactly what Nobunaga’s plans had been for his succession, given that his second son, and most obvious heir, Nobutada, had been amongst the dead at the Honnoji Incident. Two camps quickly emerged: Hideyoshi, supporting Nobutada’s son, Hidenobu, and Shibata Katsuie, who supported Nobunaga’s third surviving son, Nobutaka.
The exact course of the meeting isn’t clear, but by the end of it, Hideyoshi’s faction was in the ascendancy, and Hidenobu, at just two years old, was declared Nobunaga’s heir, with Nobutaka officially acting as his guardian. There was an attempt to mollify Katsuie by having him marry Nobunaga’s sister, Oichi, a woman of impeccable rank, but the seeds of conflict had already been sown.
In October 1582, Hideyoshi held Nobunaga’s formal funeral, and played a central, highly visible role in the ceremony, cementing his position as chief amongst Nobunaga’s retainers. Not long after this, Katsuie, supported by Nobutaka, issued letters of impeachment against Hideyoshi, who responded by demanding that Nobutaka, who had custody of the ‘heir’, Hidenobu, return him to Azuchi, as per the Kiyosu Agreement.
Oda Nobutaka
When Nobutaka refused, Hideyoshi used this as justification to renounce the agreement and raise an army against him. Katsuie, trapped in the north by snows and the ongoing war with the Uesugi, was unable to send help, and in a short, sharp campaign, Hideyoshi raised an army of some 50,000, forced Nobutaka to retreat, and eventually surrender, handing over Hidenobu and sending his mother and daughter as hostages to secure the peace.
This victory did not end the war, however, and shortly after the New Year, Takigawa Kazumasu (also known as Sakon) launched successful attacks in Ise Province. Hideyoshi responded with counterattacks against Kuwana and Nagashima Castles, but the attacks failed, and he was forced to withdraw, despite an overall advantage in numbers, leaving northern Ise Province (temporarily) in the hands of his enemies.
The situation got worse for Hideyoshi when Katsuie himself led an army of 30,000 into Omi Province, whilst Nobutaka raised another army at Gifu Castle. Katsuie also made contact with Mori Terumoto, hoping to secure his support in the battle to come. The Mori never outright refused, but instead adopted a ‘wait and see’ approach, as it was not immediately clear which side would win.
Throughout spring and early summer, the two sides clashed in skirmishes in Ise, Mino, and Omi Provinces, and the momentum would swing back and forth for some time until a decisive engagement near the fortress at Shizugatake. Hideyoshi’s forces were aided by the timely arrival of reinforcements from across Lake Biwa, and the betrayal of Maeda Toshiie, one of Katsuie’s most important generals, who switched to Hideyoshi’s side, for reasons that are still debated.
A 19th-century depiction of Hideyoshi on the night before the Battle of Shizugatake.
By all accounts, Katsuie and his army forced tenaciously, but with Toshiie’s betrayal, they were outflanked and outnumbered, and Katsuie was forced to retreat. He got as far as Kitanosho Castle, in modern Fukui, where Hideyoshi’s forces laid siege.
The night before the final assault, Katsuie held a final banquet with his close family and retainers, whilst his wife, Oichi, made arrangements for her three daughters to be protected by Hideyoshi and avoid what was to come. Despite pleas to save herself, Oichi refused to leave her husband’s side.
A later depiction of Shibata Katsuie preparing for battle, with Oichi beside him.
The attack started at dawn, and despite stiff resistance, by midday, the battle was clearly lost, and Katsuie retreated to the main castle, where he and 80 members of his family, including Oichi, killed themselves. Calling it ‘suicide’ is perhaps a bit generous, as the records suggest that a large number of the dead were children. When it was over, Katsuie’s forces ignited a store of gunpowder, blowing the tower apart and bringing a spectacular end to the Shibata Line.
“Katsuie, a martial artist, fought seven times but was unable to defend himself. He climbed to the ninth floor, the highest level of the main tower, and addressed the entire group, loudly proclaiming, “Watch Shuri’s hara-kiri and learn from it.” The samurai, with their hearts in tears, wet their armor sleeves. As everyone fell silent, Katsuie stabbed his wife, children, and others to death, then committed seppuku with 80 others. It was the hour of the tiger (5:00 PM).”
Hideyoshi’s letter to Kobayakawa Takakage dated May 15, 1583,
Just a side note, the actual record of Katsuie’s suicide is pretty harrowing stuff, and it’s always difficult to read about the death of women and children who weren’t guilty of anything other than being related to the losers. This kind of thing was expected, though; even children weren’t generally shown mercy, and though there are notable examples (Oichi’s daughters, for instance), if a child was caught in a siege, they generally died in the same manner as their parents.
With Katsuie crushed, Hideyoshi was able to extend his direct control over the northern provinces of Koto, Noto, and Echizen, and when Nobutaka committed seppuku, and Kazumasu surrendered, Hideyoshi had established himself as the most powerful man in the realm and while Hidenobu (still just an infant) remained as the nominal ‘heir’ there was no no doubt that Hideyoshi was in charge.
An image of Hideyoshi carrying Hidenobu at the time of the Kiyosu Conference.
In 1583, construction began on Osaka Castle, built on the former site of the Ishiyama Hongan-ji Temple complex. It would eventually become Hideyoshi’s base and was widely considered one of Japan’s finest castles. Meanwhile, in the Kanto, a marriage alliance between the Tokugawa and Hojo presented a clear threat to Hideyoshi’s power.
In early 1584, Oda Nobukatsu, another son of Nobunaga, rebelled against Hideyoshi, quickly gaining the support of Tokugawa Ieyasu and Chosokabe Motochika, who raised armies of their own in opposition to Hideyoshi. Despite a huge advantage in manpower (some sources say 3-to-1), Hideyoshi struggled to achieve a decisive victory.
Tokugawa Ieyasu
Some initial success in Ise Province was followed by a defeat at the Battle of Haguro Castle, after which Hideyoshi, who had been waiting at Osaka Castle, took the field himself, meeting Ieyasu near Komaki (near the modern city of the same name). Again, despite a significant manpower imbalance, Ieyasu’s strong position meant that Hideyoshi was unable to force a decisive engagement, and both sides focused on reinforcing castles and constructing new earthworks in anticipation of the fight to come.
The campaign that followed is often called the Battle of Komaki and Nagakute, after its two most decisive engagements, but there were actually a series of sieges, counterattacks, and skirmishes over the summer and early autumn of 1584. The fighting would result in a tactical victory for the Tokugawa, as they would arguably have the best of the fighting. On the other hand, the strategic situation favoured Hideyoshi, and he would ultimately be able to secure control over his new territory and the power that went along with it.
An 18th-Century depiction of the Battle of Komaki and Nagakute.
In the end, both sides had bigger problems. Ieyasu’s domains were under severe economic strain from the war, and a series of floods, combined with the burden of having a large number of peasants away at war, drained his treasury and threatened famine (this was before a serious earthquake in 1586 compounded his problems).
For his part, Hideyoshi’s position was not as strong as it appeared. Though he had the advantage in men, he also had powerful enemies elsewhere, enemies that were arguably more pressing problems than Ieyasu, who had proven he could hold Hideyoshi off, but not that he could mount a serious attack of his own.
Osaka as it appeared around 1650. The city would become Hideyoshi’s base, centred at the castle, which appears in the second screen from the left.
Despite his inability to defeat Ieyasu, by the dawn of 1585, Hideyoshi was effectively the ruler of Japan, already on the verge of surpassing his nominal masters (the Oda), and about to launch the campaigns that would finally bring an end to the centuries of bloodshed.
In 1577, a dispute between Toyotomi Hideyoshi and Shibata Katsuie led to Hideyoshi taking his army home, and leaving Katsuie to battle the mighty Uesugi Kenshin alone, a battle he lost. In the aftermath, Hideyoshi had every reason to fear the wrath of his master, Oda Nobunaga, and he was arguably lucky to keep his head, let alone his position.
A 19th-century depiction of Hideyoshi in Nobunaga’s service.
Nobunaga was well known for his ferocity, but he recognised capable subordinates. Hideyoshi had been reckless, but he had also earned a reputation as a good administrator and leader of men, and it wasn’t long before he was back in the Great Lord’s good books. In late 1577, he was dispatched west to contend with the powerful Mori Clan and by the end of the year, he was in control of Harima Province and advancing into neighbouring Tajima.
During this period, Hideyoshi made the famous Himeji Castle his base and used it as a springboard for a series of successful campaigns against the Mori over the next few years. By late 1578, he had subjugated (either through conquest or submission) Bizen and Mimasaka Provinces, in addition to his earlier conquests, and he was poised to advance further when the Araki Clan, based at Arioka Castle, rebelled, obliging him to redeploy his forces to put them down.
Able to resume his advance in 1580, Hideyoshi secured Tajima Province, bringing the once-mighty Yamana Clan under his control and incorporating many of their former vassals and members of the clan itself into the new administration, a policy widely praised as the reason that Tajima was swiftly pacified.
By 1581, he had advanced into Bitchu Province and secured Awaji Island for his master, utilising slow but effective siege tactics, starving his enemies into submission, a time-consuming but strength-preserving strategy. One disadvantage, though, was that it meant you were easy to find should your enemy have sufficient strength elsewhere.
The area that Hideyoshi either conquered or was fighting in during this period.
In Spring 1582, Hideyoshi led an army of some 30,000 to besiege the mighty fortress at Takamatsu. Strategically vital for control of Bitchu Province, the castle was defended by 3,000 Mori warriors, who quickly called for aid. Mori Terumoto responded and began mustering an army that would eventually number over 50,000. Hideyoshi now faced a problem: already outnumbered, if he tried to take the formidable fortress by storm, he’d deplete his forces further. On the other hand, trying to starve the garrison, who knew help was on the way, would take too long and risk trapping his army between the walls of the fortress and the vengeful spears of the Mori.
Hideyoshi responded in a typically inventive fashion. Unable to take the castle by storm, he ordered a levee built and the nearby river dammed, diverting water into Takamatsu itself, flooding the castle to such an extent that the garrison’s food supplies were almost completely ruined and they were reduced to communicating by boat.
A later depiction of the Siege of Takamatsu Castle. The tower to the left is Hideyoshi’s observation post, and you can see the castle itself flooded in the background.
Despite this, the castle still held out, and when news arrived that Terumoto was on the march, Hideyoshi sent a message to Azuchi, requesting immediate reinforcement from Nobunaga. Sensing an opportunity to catch the powerful Mori clan in open battle, where they could be destroyed, Nobunaga quickly dispatched Akechi Mitsuhide to reinforce Hideyoshi, while he went to Kyoto to make arrangements for a larger force that would be sent to finish the job.
As we already know, Mitsuhide never arrived; instead, he turned his forces around and attacked Nobunaga at his base at Honnoji, killing him and his heir. Hideyoshi was well placed to respond to this betrayal, and he swiftly concluded a peace treaty with the Mori (who were apparently initially unaware of Nobunaga’s death). Some have speculated that his rapid reaction is evidence of his involvement, or at least foreknowledge of the plot, though there’s nothing concrete to suggest that he was anything other than in the right place at the right time.
Funasaka Pass as it appears today. This was one of the narrow routes that Hideyoshi’s army had to contend with during their remarkable march back towards Kyoto. Bakkai – 投稿者自身による著作物, CC 表示 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=92337495による
More to the point, Hideyoshi was far from the only player on the board. Hideyoshi’s former rival, Shibata Katsuie, was to the north, with an army facing the Uesugi, while in the Kanto, Takigawa Kazumasu (sometimes called Sakon) had a large army intended to monitor the Hojo. Nobunaga’s son and heir had been killed during the Honno-ji Incident, but his third son, Nobukatsu, had gathered a force at Sakai (modern Osaka) to conquer Shikoku.
Any one of these forces could have been the one to avenge Nobunaga’s death and put an abrupt end to Akechi Mitsuhide’s ambitions. Even Tokugawa Ieyasu was a potential avenger, making his famed escape from mortal danger with the (supposed) help of the famous Ninja of Iga. Ieyasu would return to his home in Mikawa and gather his forces, but events would move quickly, and though all parties moved against Mitsuhide, it was Hideyoshi who struck first.
Tokugawa Ieyasu as he appeared in later life. He was close to Kyoto during the Honnoji Incident and was forced to make a dramatic escape back to Mikawa. Hideyoshi would prove to be faster, but Ieyasu’s time would come.
In the days following the Honnoji Incident, Mitsuhide moved to consolidate his position. Unfortunately for him, he faced harsh military and political opposition. On the one hand, Nobunaga’s body had not been recovered from the flames, and rumours abounded that he was still alive. Even among those who may have believed Nobunaga was dead, Mitsuhide commanded little respect. He was a traitor, after all, and surrounded by enemies who wished to avenge Nobunaga and take power for themselves.
Militarily, Mitsuhide was too weak to assert effective control over much territory. He had between 13,000 and 15,000 men, but was obliged to capture and garrison several important castles, whittling his already limited forces down still further. Then there was the speed at which Hideyoshi moved. Mitushide arguably did what he could, and with the limited communications and transportation available at the time, it’s hard to see how he could have moved faster, but Hideyoshi was faster still, and on July 2nd, 1582, just 12 days after Honnoji, the two sides clashed at the Battle of Yamazaki, to the south-east of Kyoto.
Akechi Mitsuhide. Historians debate why he decided to betray Nobunaga, but within two weeks of the incident, he’d be dead.
The numbers vary by source, but Hideyoshi is said to have had between 20 and 40,000 men, while Mitsuihides had 10 to 16,000. Despite the long odds, Mitsuhide’s army was well-positioned, and the ground around Yamazaki was boggy, limiting movement and reducing Hideyoshi’s advantage in numbers.
Mitsuhide probably understood that a defensive victory against difficult odds would have greatly enhanced his prestige, and for most of the day, Hideyoshi’s army took heavy losses in vicious frontal assaults. Around 4pm, however, reinforcements arrived for Hideyoshi, outflanking Mitsuhide’s position, and causing his army to fall back. As the battle moved to higher and drier ground, Mitsuhide’s force was gradually surrounded and forced back.
The battlefield of Yamazaki as it appears today. Historians believe the heaviest fighting took place around the bypass that can be seen in the centre.
Later sources suggest that the casualties were about the same (around 3,000 each), but under attack from three sides, the morale of Mitushide’s army broke first, and by sunset, their retreat became a rout. When the battle was over, it is said that Mitsuhide had just 700 men remaining. His exact fate isn’t clear; some say he was wounded and committed seppuku, while others suggest he was killed by vengeful peasants or bandits. Either way, his head was brought to Hideyoshi the day after the battle, and then displayed at Honnoji, a powerful statement confirming Hideyoshi as Nobunaga’s ‘avenger’ and giving an enormous boost to his credibility.
Hideyoshi would spend a few weeks stamping out the last embers of Mitushide’s rebellion, but despite his military successes, he was not unchallenged as Nobunaga’s successor. The other players, who had all been poised to strike, still remained in the field, and each had their own ambition to rule, either directly or through one of Nobunaga’s other sons.
This would result in the Kiyosu Conference, but we’ll cover that and its consequences next time.
This is the 50th post on this blog. Well done for getting this far.
In 1565, Date Harumune retired and handed control of the clan over to his son Terumune. Despite this, Harumune held onto the real power, and it wasn’t until 1570, when Terumune accused several of his father’s supporters of treason and had them removed, that he gained actual power.
Date Terumune
Despite this, Terumune continued most of his father’s policies, especially in diplomacy. The alliance with the Ashina Clan was maintained, and Date diplomats reached out to the Hojo, Oda, and Shibata Clans, establishing friendly relations with several of Japan’s most powerful warlords. The Sengoku in Sengoku Jidai literally means ‘country at war’; however, alongside his diplomatic efforts, Terumune showed he wasn’t afraid to throw his weight around if an opportunity presented itself.
In 1578, the death of Uesugi Kenshin presented just such an opportunity, and Terumune dispatched forces to intervene in the internal struggle that followed. The Date intervention was ultimately unsuccessful, largely due to the military skills of the Shibata Clan, vassals of the Uesugi, who fought off the Date in several engagements.
Frustrated, Terumune withdrew, but the Shibata had apparently expected more generous rewards for their service, and in 1581, when it was clear that they would not beforthcoming, the Shibata rebelled. Terumune dispatched his army once again, this time in support of the Shibata, and the conflict within the Uesugi Clan would drag on for years.
Closer to home, the long war against the nearby Soma Clan continued into Terumune’s reign. The Soma were based in southern Mutsu Province (the area of modern Fukushima Prefecture) and had proven to be tenacious opponents of the Date, with neither side ever able to establish a permanent advantage over the other, despite decades of conflict.
In the period of 1582-84, however, the Date finally managed to overcome the Soma. Although the latter clan was not completely subdued, the strategic situation compelled them to make peace in 1584, with the border between the two clans agreed upon by treaty.
Also in 1584, the long-time allies of the Date, the Ashina Clan, fell prey to an internal power struggle, after their lord, Moritaka, was murdered by a retainer (the official reason is said to be ‘due to sodomy’, so make of that what you will). The new head of the clan was just a month old, and so the Ashina were effectively subordinate to the Date, despite nominally remaining independent.
Shortly after this, Terumune retired, handing leadership over to his son, Masamune. Sources disagree on the exact reason for this, with some suggesting that Terumune planned to make his second son head of the Ashina, only to encounter serious opposition from within the Ashina and his own clan, who then forced him to abandon the idea and retire in disgrace. Other sources say that Terumune learned a lesson from the fate of the Ashina and decided to hand over the leadership of the Date to his son while he was still alive, rather than leave the succession to chance.
Date Masamune
Regardless of the reason, Masamune became head of the clan in 1585, and immediately set out to prove that he was not going to do things the same way as his father had. Whilst Terumune had intended to continue the war against the Uesugi, along with his Ashina and Mogami allies, Masamune made peace, without consulting either clan, leading to a sudden and serious decline in relations.
Masamune would definitively end the alliance shortly afterwards when he invaded Ashina territory, which the Ashina, unsurprisingly, interpreted as a hostile act. The invasion would prove to be a back-and-forth affair, with the Ashina successfully repelling the Date’s first attacks only to be defeated by a second wave, led by Masamune himself.
In late 1585, the Ashina asked for a truce, and a peace was mediated by Terumune and his uncle, Sanemoto. The negotiations would prove to be a ruse, however, as Ashina forces kidnapped Terumune at sword point and tried to escape back to their own territory. What happened next is a matter of debate; some sources state that Terumune, seeing that he couldn’t escape, ordered the pursuing Date forces (his own men) to open fire with their bows, killing the entire party, including Terumune.
Another source suggests that the Ashina, trapped by the Date pursuit, killed Terumune themselves, and were then cut down. A third source (written later) states that Masamune himself was responsible for Terumune’s death, and may have orchestrated the whole thing to get rid of his father. Though the exact circumstances will never be known, Terumune’s death also signalled the end of serious attempts to end the local conflicts through negotiation.
Shortly after his father’s somewhat controversial death, Masamune continued the war. In January 1586, he laid siege to Nihonmatsu Castle (in the city of the same name, in modern Fukushima). At this time, an army led by the Satake Clan, from Hitachi province (to the south), arrived to relieve the castle. The Date were defeated at the Battle of Hitotori Bridge, and Masamune himself was badly wounded before a rearguard action allowed him to escape.
The defeat was evidently not serious, because only a few months later, after the Satake had withdrawn, Masamune tried again, once again besieging Nihonmatsu Castle, forcing its surrender in July. Not long after this, he negotiated a peace with the Satake with the intention of focusing his efforts on finishing off the Ashina. This peace was short-lived, even by the standards of the day, as a succession crisis within the Ashina Clan drew the attention of the Satake, who supported a rival candidate to Masamune’s preferred choice.
Masamune interpreted this as the Satake intending to bring the Ashina under their control, which would have put the Date in an extremely vulnerable situation. In response, he declared his intention to wage a full-scale war against both the Ashina and Satake. In 1587, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, by now acting as regent, issued an order that all private wars should halt, an order that Masamune, for now at least, ignored.
Masamune initially had reason to regret his continued belligerence. In 1588, his old enemies, the Mogami Clan, took advantage of Masamune being distracted elsewhere and invaded Date territory at the same time as the Ashina Clan attacked in the south. After defeats at the Battle of Osaki and then at Koriyama, Masamune was obliged to seek peace with both clans, stabilising the situation in the short term.
In 1589, the peace with the Ashina Clan broke down once again, with Masamune invading the Aizu region (in the west of modern Fukushima). Masamune won a decisive victory at the Battle of Suriagehara in July 1589, causing the Ashina to flee their home castle at Kurokawa (modern Aizuwakamatsu) and seek help from the Satake. The Satake were obeying Hideyoshi’s peace order, however, and no help was forthcoming. Shortly after this, Masamune moved his base to Kurokawa Castle, and when a second order from Hideyoshi arrived, threatening direct intervention, Masamune took the opportunity to make peace.
Fukushima Prefecture, where Aizu is located.
A year later, Hideyoshi ordered the Date to join him in his attack on the Hojo Clan at the siege of Odawara. This put Masamune in a difficult spot, since the rule of his father, Terumune, the Date and Hojo had been nominal allies, and when Hideyoshi’s order arrived, it wasn’t immediately clear which side Masamune would join. Masamune eventually marched in support of Hideyoshi, but the regent wouldn’t forget Date disobedience of his peace order.
Having looked closely at the lives and careers of Takeda Shingen and Uesugi Kenshin, it is impossible not to notice the frequent mention of a place called Kawanakajima, and the series of battles that took place there from 1553 to 1564.
The battles at Kawanakajima were not the only confrontations between the Takeda and Uesugi clans, nor were they the largest or most significant battles in the Sengoku period, but they have been the subject of extensive study, writing, and mythologising, as they seem to symbolise the famous rivalry between Shingen and Kenshin, and so they’re worth a closer look.
The area called Kawanakajima is located in the northern part of Nagano Prefecture, and is the area surrounding where the Chikuma and Sai rivers meet. Now within the modern city of Nagano, in the 16th century the area was in Shinano Province and had long served as a key transportation route from north to south, and as such had frequently been a battleground.
There had been many small, but long-established clans in the area, but by the early 1500s, it was largely under the control of the Murakami Clan, who would come into frequent conflict with the Takeda, from neighbouring Kai Province, who were beginning to expand into Shinano around this time.
Starting in 1542, Takeda Shingen began a concerted effort to bring the province under his control, but he faced resistance of varying degrees of severity during his campaign, and it was the Murakami who proved the sternest test. At the Battle of Uedahara in 1548, the Murakami inflicted a serious defeat on the Takeda, and although Shingen would recover, he suffered a further defeat at the Siege of Toishi Castle in 1550.
Takeda Harunobu, better remembered as Takeda Shingen.
Shingen had what we might call “Bouncebackability”, and in 1551, Toishi Castle fell, leaving the Takeda in control of most of Shinano, with the exception of the area including, and to the north of, Kawanakajima. The clans in this area had previously allied with the Murakami, but with their defeat, they went looking for new friends.
They found them in the Nagao Clan of Echigo, and their lord, Kagetora, better known to history as Uesugi Kenshin, who advanced into northern Shinano to support these local clans and to oppose the Takeda.
The First Battle
In April 1553, Shingen resumed his advance against the remaining clans in northern Shinano, meeting only sporadic resistance and forcing the weakened Murakami to ask for intervention from Kenshin. He responded, and a combined force of around 5000 men counterattacked and defeated the Takeda at the Battle of Yahata in May.
Nagao Kagetora, better known as Uesugi Kenshin.
This success would be short-lived, however, as Shingen would resume his advance that summer, forcing the Murakami back again, until September, when Kenshin himself led a force into Shinano, engaging and defeating the Takeda at the Battle of Fuse, before laying siege to several castles in quick succession. Shingen would seek to outmanoeuvre Kenshin and cut off his retreat, but Kenshin responded with a strategic retreat to a place called Hachimanbara.
Unable to cut off Kenshin’s retreat, Shingen instead retreated to Shioda Castle, entrenching himself there and avoiding direct battle. With neither side apparently up for the fight, both armies gradually disengaged, with Kenshin returning home at the end of September, and Shingen following suit a few weeks later.
The First Battle of Kawanakajima was more of an extended series of engagements than a pitched battle, and both sides achieved some strategic goals. Kenshin was able to stop the Takeda advance into northern Shinano, whereas Shingen was able to consolidate his control in the central and eastern parts of the province, free from outside intervention.
The Second Battle
Through the remainder of 1553 and into 1554, Takeda Shingen continued to expand and consolidate his control of the areas of Shinano south of Kawanakajima. He has also formed an alliance with the Hojo and Imagawa Clans, securing his southern borders and gaining an ally (in the Hojo) against Kenshin’s ambitions in the wider region.
Shingen also sought to keep Kenshin off balance by supporting local rivals and instigating rebellions amongst his vassals. Though Kenshin was often able to swiftly put down these uprisings, in 1555, a previously loyal vassal, Kurita Eiju, who was based near the Zenkoji Temple, defected to the Takeda side. This was significant because Eiju controlled the southern half of the Nagano Basin, of which Kawanakajima was a central part.
Shingen marched north to support his new ally, whilst Kenshin was obliged to dispatch an army to retake the lost territory. Eiju, alongside 3000 Takeda allies, holed up at Asahiyama Castle (in modern Nagano City), a strategically important location that controlled crossings of the Sai River.
Kenshin could have manoeuvred around the strong point, but this would have left an enemy garrison at his rear, so instead, he entrenched his forces at Katsurayama (also in modern Nagano) and constructed a castle there, effectively bottling up the garrison at Asahiyama and neutralising the threat.
Shingen was not idle during all this construction; however, he dispatched an army in support of Kurita Eiju, and it arrived in early July, facing Kenshin’s forces across the Sai River. The only serious engagement of the Second ‘Battle’ was on July 19th, when Kenshin sent forces across the river and engaged in sporadic fighting against the Takeda. Whether this was a serious attempt to force a crossing or just a kind of skirmish isn’t clear, but Kenshin’s forces swiftly withdrew, and both sides spent the next 200 days glaring at each other across the river.
Eventually, events away from Kawanakajima would force a resolution. Shingen was a long way from his home base in Kai and was beginning to struggle to feed his army, whereas Kenshin was facing issues on his western borders from increasing activity from the local Ikko-Ikki, as well as dissatisfaction from his vassals over the months of inactivity.
The Ikko-Ikki proved to be difficult to deal with for many lords. Uesugi Kenshin was no different.
Eventually, both sides agreed to mediation, led by the Imagawa Clan, and a peace was agreed in October. The terms set the border between the rivals as the Sai River, as well as calling for the destruction of Asahiyama Castle, and the complete withdrawal of both armies from the area.
In the immediate aftermath, Kenshin would turn to deal with the Ikko-Ikki, and Shingen would subdue the remaining independent lords in southern Shinano, but neither side was done with Kawanakajima.
The Third Battle
In 1556, Kenshin, apparently suffering from what we might now call ‘burnout’, announced his intention to renounce his lordship and become a monk. His retainers, horrified at the prospect, did everything they could to persuade him to change his mind. They were ultimately successful, and a good thing too, because through the interim period, Shingen had again begun putting pressure on local lords to switch sides, or face conquest.
During the New Year festivities in January 1557, Kenshin, who had by now given up on his idea of becoming a monk (and the restful lifestyle that would have provided him), offered prayers at the Hachimangu Shrine (in Chikuma, Nagano) for the defeat of Takeda Shingen.
Hachiman Shrine as it appears today. It’s now called Takemizuwake Shrine.
Shingen, apparently put out by these attempts at divine intervention, advanced again, taking Katsurayama Castle (the site of the second ‘battle’) in mid-February, then advanced north, defeating the Takanashi Clan, who were allies of Kenshin. Kenshin’s response was delayed by winter snows, but he eventually came south, capturing several Takeda castles and even rebuilding Asahiyama.
Shingen would continue to evade Kenshin’s advance, and both sides continued to dance around each other until an indecisive clash at Uenohara in late August, after which, Kenshin, who had advanced far from his supply bases in Echigo, withdrew. At this point, the Shogun, Ashikaga Yoshiteru, intervened, sending a letter requesting that both sides make peace, apparently in the hope that they would then send forces to aid the Shogunate.
Neither side did, but a truce was agreed upon, which did not last long, as both Kenshin and Shingen would dispatch armies to duke it out in Northern Shinano. Kenshin arguably got the better of it, as the remaining clans in the area, previously just allies, were forced to become effectively his vassals.
The Fourth Battle
In 1559, Kenshin went to Kyoto to ask that the Shogun grant him the position of Kanto Kanrei, which had long been held by the Uesugi clan. Though the power of the Shogun and the prestige of any positions he might bestow were long since diminished, Kenshin was able to combine his appointment as Kanrei with his considerable martial talents to gather a large army and attack the Hojo in the Kanto region.
In 1560, he was apparently able to gather an army of 100,000 men (though this is probably exaggerated) and advance deep into Hojo territory, even besieging their capital at Odawara in March 1561, though he was unable to take the formidable fortress. In response, the Hojo called for help from their ally, Takeda Shingen, who responded by invading Northern Shinano once again.
When news of Shingen’s attack reached Kenshin’s army, many of his supporters returned home, and he was obliged to lift the siege of Odawara and turn to face the Takeda. Beginning in August, the Takeda and Uesugi forces would again seek to gain advantage, advancing and retreating in turn, largely centred on Kaizu Castle, newly constructed at Shingen’s command.
This would continue until late October, when the Takeda devised a strategy to launch a surprise attack against the Uesugi, with a second force positioned nearby to ambush and (hopefully) destroy the Uesugi as they attempted to regroup. Kenshin, however, was made aware of the Takeda’s movements, and, taking advantage of a moonless night, he had his army change position, moving them closer to the main Takeda force.
Just after dawn on October 28th, a thick fog covered the ground around Kawanakajima, obscuring both armies. When the fog cleared, however, the Takeda were confronted with the sight of the entire Uesugi army positioned in front of them. Almost as soon as visibility allowed, Kenshin ordered a furious attack that smashed into the Takeda force and forced them onto the back foot.
The Uesugi made it as far as the Takeda’s main camp, and it is here that one of the most famous tales of the Sengoku period takes place. In the heat of the battle, a warrior wearing a white robe (or towel) around his head charged directly at Takeda Shingen. This warrior slashed three times at Shingen, who was able to parry the blows with his war fan (made of iron, not the usual paper, luckily), before Takeda’s soldiers came to the rescue and forced the white-clad warrior to retreat.
The moment that Uesugi Kenshin and Takeda Shingen are said to have met on the battlefield.
It was later revealed that this warrior was Uesugi Kenshin himself, and the duel became a legendary scene, symbolising the violence of the age, and the particular rivalry between Shingen and Kenshin. Unfortunately, we’re not sure that the duel actually took place. Takeda sources describe it as I’ve written here, whereas the Uesugi say the duel did take place, but that it was either a different attacker, or that it took place, not in the Takeda camp, but nearer the river, where the fighting was fiercest.
Whether the famous duel actually happened or not, the battle itself was a bloody affair. The Uesugi attack was ferocious and drove the Takeda back to their camp, but failed to break them. At the same time, Takeda reinforcements rushing towards the battlefield were held up by a Uesugi rearguard.
The Uesugi army (right) advance against the Takeda (left)
If the battle had been brought to a conclusion that morning, then it’s likely the Uesugi would have won; however, the Takeda reinforcements arrived at around noon, and, fearing encirclement, Kenshin ordered a retreat. Shingen pursued him until around mid-afternoon, but then called it off, bringing an end to the bloodiest of the Battles of Kawanakajima.
Exact death tolls are always tricky, as are the size of the opposing armies, but total numbers of combatants are estimated to have been around 20,000 for the Takeda and 13,000 for the Uesugi. When the fighting was over, the Takeda had suffered 4000 casualties, to the Uesugi’s 3000, and since they remained in control of the field, the battle was arguably a Takeda victory.
The Fourth Battle of Kawanakajima was by far the bloodiest.
That being said, the Uesugi would also claim victory, as they had foiled Takeda’s attempts to trap them, stopped their advance, and, despite a bloody day, their army remained more or less intact. Strategically, the battle was probably a draw, as it ultimately didn’t change much on the ground, neither side was able to secure new territory in the aftermath, and apart from the casualties (who would no doubt be comforted to know they’d died for nothing), both sides remained relatively strong.
The Fifth Battle
The Fifth and Final Battle of Kawanakajima occurred in 1564. In the interim period, Kenshin had continued to send forces into the Kanto, and Shingen had continued to try to expand his control of Shinano and other surrounding provinces.
In Hida Province, a proxy war between a faction backed by the Uesugi and one by the Takeda swiftly drew both clans into direct confrontation once again. Shingen dispatched troops, and Kenshin moved to intercept them. The Takeda would get as far as the southern end of the Nagano Basin, but there would be no serious fighting. The Uesugi were content to limit themselves to blocking Shingen, and Shingen seemed to be content to allow himself to be blocked.
Both sides eventually withdrew after nearly two months of little more than dirty looks, and this would prove to be the last confrontation between the clans at Kawanakajima.
Aftermath
The conflict between the Takeda and Uesugi Clans did not end after the Fifth Battle (such as it was), but both sides had more pressing concerns elsewhere. Kenshin was keen to focus on Etchu Province, the source of frequent Ikko-Ikki attacks, whilst Shingen’s attention was drawn south, and then eventually towards Kyoto as the political situation shifted dramatically.
When Shingen died in 1573, Kenshin is supposed to have wept openly at the loss of his great rival, but the fortunes of both clans would continue to decline. The Takeda would be heavily defeated at the Battle of Nagashino in 1575, and their power would be permanently diminished. Then, in 1578, Kenshin died, and the Uesugi Clan was wracked by a civil war to determine who would succeed him.
The Takeda would eventually be destroyed by Oda Nobunaga in 1582, whereas the Uesugi would survive the Sengoku Period and the centuries to come. In fact, as I mentioned in their brief profile, direct descendants of this famous clan still live in Japan to this day.
Ultimately, the Battles of Kawanakajima became the stuff of myth and legend in the decades following the actual events. This was largely due to the actions of Tokugawa Ieyasu and his descendants, who made concerted efforts to elevate the actions of Takeda Shingen to almost semi-divine status.
A 19th Century artistic representation of the Battle of Kawanakajima.
The reality is that the battles were locally important, but ultimately proved to be fringe events in the course of the enormous bloodshed elsewhere in Japan during this period, as we shall soon see.
“…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.
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.
Chris Perry, Author 